As if she could have guessed that their time was over, her surroundings blurred and she found herself in the air once more. It didn't take long for her to reach her next destination, though the territory was definitely unfamiliar. She had never been here before, but she had a feeling she knew who she would find.

By now the sun had fully set and it was dark. Elphaba tilted her head upward toward the night sky and frowned a little at the incredible lack of stars. Too many bright lights. She found footing outside of a relatively large house, which did not surprise her in the least, and walked up to the front gate. The names on the post box confirmed her suspicions.

Sir Chuffrey and Lady Glinda

She kicked at a small stone in front of her foot before walking up to the front door. Just as though she were on cue, Glinda opened the door to let out a grey and white patched cat. Elphaba slipped herself inside just as the door was closing and looked at her old friend. It was plainly obvious that the blonde had been crying – her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks looked raw, but still she tried to cover it with caked on makeup and a smile.

Elphaba followed Glinda (who was shockingly underdressed – a pink silk floor-length nightgown, a flowy robe and pink slippers) through the mansion. She eyed decorative items as they passed them, an expensive looking painting here and there along the walls, some sort of statue in the corner, etcetera. Her journey led her up a flight of marble stairs and to a door on the left. Glinda entered first with Elphaba on her tail, and nearly gagged when she saw the sight of the bedroom. It reminded her too much of the other witch's decorative ways back at Shiz. Frills, lace and lots of pastels. How did Sir Chuffrey handle this?

It took a moment for Elphaba to get over the looks of the room, and her attention fell on the blonde once more who was walking over to the window. Glinda struck a match and protected the flame with her hand as she lit a white candle, just as she had done for the past three evenings.

Glinda watched the flame dim and then grow higher, burning brightly, a sad look in her eyes. She couldn't get over the feeling she'd gotten three evenings prior, the one that had caused her to light the candle in the first place. A gut instinct that had come out of no where. The following morning she received news of Elphaba's death and the Wizard's departure, both within a half hour of each other. Oz was completely 'wicked witch' and leader free now.

The pain was unbearable, especially knowing she and Elphie had departed on bad terms. Damn those shoes. Glinda hunched over and put her face in her hand, a sob cracking through the air like some sort of whip. The other Witch stood there, watching her old friend cry, feeling absolutely helpless. There was nothing Elphaba could do. She was a ghost of some sort, a spirit. She couldn't talk to anyone, she couldn't touch anyone, and she couldn't show herself to anyone. All she could do was watch. Watch their pain and suffering. But why were they suffering over her of all people? None of them had ever seemed to care that much before, why now?

Elphaba walked over and sat on the edge of Glinda's bed, her hands folding neatly in her lap, the sounds of the other woman's crying in her ear. If they had cared so much, why didn't they show it when she had been alive? Or maybe they had tried to show it, but in their own ways, and Elphaba had never been one to show emotion or even let it in.

She lifted her gaze to look at the blonde who was sniffling and wiping her face before murmuring a quick prayer to the Unnamed God. Elphaba couldn't help rolling her eyes.

Glinda turned and walked over to the bed, which caused Elphaba to stand quickly and back away toward the door. The blonde's head was turned toward the window, her eyes giving an odd sparkle from the candlelight and tears.

"I miss you, Elphie."

She continued staring at the candle before settling down under the covers, leaving the other side of the bed empty for her husband, whenever he came home.

Elphaba stood near the door and watched Glinda drift off into an uneasy sleep, a frown firmly planted on her lips. Why did whatever was doing this to her insist on doing it? Had she really deserved to be tortured in death because being tortured in life hadn't been enough?

Her head turned toward the window and she gazed at the candle, the fire burning brighter than ever. Elphaba huffed and walked over to it, crouching down to gaze intently into the flame.

"Let me go," she murmured to the burning candle. "Let me be already. I deserve a peaceful death!"

She reached out to take the candle, to throw it out the window, but something grabbed her wrist. She struggled against the invincible hold and groaned, the flame growing brighter, the light nearly blinding her.

"Stop! Let me go!"

"I will not," came an unfamiliar voice.

Elphaba used her free hand and struck out into the light, a wave of shock running through her as she hit something solid. Something she had not intended to be there.