­Notes: I've been horrible about posting this chapter, even though I finished writing it over a week ago. I thought of chucking it entirely, since there's little to it but conversation and I wanted to progress beyond that. But, here it is all the same. It looks like this fic is going to be insanely long unless I can get a handle on my overenthusiastic verbosity.

Stripped of its normal pigmentation, her complexion was pale—although Glinda reasoned it might well be white with fury—and less rosy than Glinda's own save an agitated spot of color flaring on either cheek where there had once only been a faint yellowish undertone. On the whole, it was an impressive transformation, but Glinda was tactful enough not to admire her handiwork. There were more pressing matters to attend to.

It was hard for her to believe all her efforts had come to nothing. Glinda swiftly recalled the copious notes stored under her bed, the hours spent barricaded in the library, the giddiness she had felt at the prospect of being able to give her roommate one of the few things she honestly wanted. The way she had carefully recited the correct words with practiced inflection over and over while Elphaba slept, finally collapsing into bed when she was sure she must have achieved something. The way she had restrained herself from peeling back Elphaba's tangle of blankets to see if the change had been immediate. ­­In hindsight, it was evident she had been so enthusiastic about her latest project that she had never considered Elphaba might be anything other than overjoyed at its result. Now, she could only hope the girl would come to her senses.

At the moment, it didn't seem likely. Elphaba was withdrawing into herself, more awkward than usual in her unfamiliar skin: limbs folding inward, shoulders hunching, hair hanging. One pale spider of a hand shot out to claim a quilt.

Numbly, Glinda sat down and waited for Elphaba to speak. After counting the minutes, watching the sun rise, and pretending to read, she resigned herself to the fact that, if one of them were to break the silence, it wasn't going to be Elphaba. That knowledge somehow failed to improve the situation. As impressive as Glinda's societal training had been, it had never taught her how to make conversation at such a time, and she had a feeling that piping, "Terribly sorry about that little spell, dear, care for some tea?" was not going to get her back in Elphaba's good graces. Just to be sure the other girl hadn't imploded from excessive anger and shock, Glinda even held her breath a few times to make sure she could hear Elphaba breathing. It was the least she could do, all things considered.

Fortunately, the sun was climbing higher in the sky and she had an excuse to busy herself elsewhere. Cautiously tiptoeing around her unmoving roommate, Glinda began readying herself for the day.

"You'd better get dressed," she ventured upon returning from the lavatory and finding Elphaba in the same position as before.

"I'm not going out there." The crisp answer was so unexpected it made Glinda jump.

"You've got class, Elphie."

"I can't go out there. Tell everyone I'm sick." Her dark eyes flashed feverishly from within the folds of the quilt and Glinda realized with a start that it could actually be true.

"I'll be back soon," she said tentatively. Elphaba made no reply.

When Glinda returned, Elphaba had emerged from the quilt and was hunched in a chair, still in her nightgown, poring over one of Glinda's schoolbooks. "I don't see anything in here on changing skin color," she noted casually, not so much as glancing up.

Glinda pursed her lips. "Won't you at least look at yourself?"

"I don't need to look." Elphaba's grip on the book tightened almost imperceptibly. "I know what you did to me. You took away a part of my self."

Bravely, Glinda moved a few steps closer. "You know I wasn't being malicious. I thought I could help you, since I'm studying sorcery and all."

"If you're so intent on using your powers to help others, then help those who need it the most. Help the Quadlings. Help Animals. Would you do that?"

Glinda hesitated. "If they asked me to and if I wouldn't be going against the law, then yes."

Elphaba's lips twitched ironically. "Key words: 'if they asked'. You never asked me. And then there's the matter of the law. Surely there's legislature against casting spells on people who don't ask for them."

Glinda had never considered that either. "Elphie, you wouldn't turn me in!" she blurted, more to convince herself than Elphaba. "I…I just really thought you'd like it," she mumbled, unable to dredge up a more eloquent explanation.

"You didn't think at all," snapped Elphaba. "Don't forget, the most well-meaning gestures can turn on you."

If she pursued this conversation, there was a good chance it would turn into one of Elphaba's tirades on good and evil. Desperate to avoid just that, Glinda opted for a non sequitur. "What were you carrying oil for?"

Elphaba sighed and threw down the book. "I use it for bathing, you twit. If you were going to change me in some way, you might at least have done something about water. It'd have been a lot more functional."

"That's too complex," Glinda admitted. "I'm nowhere near that skilled. You need to know about advanced sorcery and biology and all sorts of things in order to meddle around with things like that. Too much could have gone wrong it I'd tried, and I did think about it. But changing skin color wasn't too bad—there are all sorts of easy spells for turning things different colors; we've practiced with some in class. I just wrote my own, using those for a base, and applied it to a human instead. And it wasn't half as easy as I thought, since it works differently if you're not inanimate, but I did so much research to make sure nothing would go wrong."

For the first time, Elphaba met her eyes. "If you're so good at it, then change me back."

"Er." Glinda gulped. "I never exactly practiced that."

Elphaba exploded. "Oh, hell."She jumped to her feet and crossed to the smaller girl in two quick strides. "Isn't that one of the first rules of magic? Be able to undo anything you do? Glinda!"

­"But," Glinda added quickly, "if you really want it back, I promise to see what can be done. I'll read more, I'll try to figure out a reverse spell, I'll talk to Miss Greyling, I'll ask at the infirmary, I'll ask Madame Morrible if I have to."

"And have word get out about what you did to me? That's nice."

"Then what, pray tell, do you want me to do?"

Elphaba made no reply. Glinda took a deep breath and continued. "Listen, I'm meeting everyone for dinner later on. Will you please come? Maybe we can come up with something. If you won't trust professionals, you can at least trust your friends."

Elphaba shook her head violently.

"Oh, excuse me, I forgot: you don't trust anyone," Glinda minced sarcastically, throwing caution to the winds. "Wear a hood if you like, but let them know you're all right; everyone asked after you earlier and you should at least see Nessarose. And maybe the boys will be able to find some good information in their library. Of course, it would help if you told them yourself, or just showed them the, uh, problem. You really can't stay in here forever."

Elphaba muttered something that sounded like, "Oh, yes, I can."

Glinda assumed her most angelic expression. "Elphie, think about it," she wheedled in the honeyed voice that had never failed to extricate her from trouble. "I know we'll figure something out, together. Please?"