Chapter 10

She has lived alone in that cell for several years now. She didn't really care. It was lonely sometimes, and she had too much time to think. She regretted nothing. Did she, indeed? Would she act differently if she had known the truth?

Once in a while she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the broken looking glass in the prison's bathroom. The woman who looked back at her was old and tired; her expression broken and desperate. Her hair became silver; her skin got wrinkled. She sighed and wondered when that desperate woman had taken possession, body and soul, on the elegant, authoritative figure, who was once herself.

Madam Morrible sat quietly on the uncomfortable bed in the tiny cell, and mourned the disappearance of her previous life. How could she do this to her, was a question that constantly crossed her mind. How could that insolent, silly young woman do this to her after everything she had done for her?

Her reverie was cut off abruptly, though, by the unmistakable sound of footsteps in the distance. Visitors, possibly. She didn't have much of those in the past years. She has seen the Witch once after her surprising return. This was also the last time she had seen the ungrateful Glinda. Since then, Boq or Fiyero were the only people who came to check up on her from time to time, in the Witches' request. Their visits were rare as well. No, as the footsteps sounded closer, obviously on their way to her cell, she couldn't help but wonder who it was, more out of curiosity than of excitement.

A man was led along the hall by two guards. Once they got to her cell the guards left, and the man stood there in front of her cell among the shadows. She glanced at him from behind the heavy metal bars but couldn't see his face. She was about to enquire who he was, when he spoke.

"Hello, mother."

She gasped. He couldn't possibly be him… could it? "Move into the light so I'll be able to see you," she softly commanded. He silently complied. Sweet Oz, it was him! She took one long look at him before saying, "Well, well, long time no see. What brings you to the Emerald City? I'm sure you didn't miss you old mother that much, or you would have come sooner," she said cynically.

"I didn't realize how bad things were, sooner," he replied. "You look good, though," he managed to add. She snorted. They both knew that he was lying. The truth was that he was shocked to see the damage that was done to her by her continuous staying behind the bars.

She gave him a serious, no-nonsense look. "Why are you here?"

"To revenge," was his simple, yet terrifying reply.

She looked at him suspiciously. "Revenge," she echoed, her eyebrow raised in silent question.

"To revenge your imprisonment. To capture and kill the one responsible for this," said the man who was her son.

She couldn't do much, but stare. "You surely don't mean Elph…" her voice trailed off as the meaning of it quickly sank in. Thoughts raced through her mind. Kill her? He couldn't, he shouldn't; not him!

"I mean the Wicked Witch of the West," he corrected coldly, then snorted. "Catchy name, isn't it?"

"You can't do that."

He gave her a look, caught somewhat off-guard. He wasn't expecting any protest. "Oh? And I thought you will be thrilled to know that there are people who work for your freedom."

"People? Are there others?"

"Why of course. I can't possibly do this alone, mother."

"Luke, listen to me," she said in a frightened tone that was unlike her. "You have never listened to me but this time you must. You cannot harm Elphaba. Don't come near her, don't hurt her, and don't even consider killing her, do you hear me?"

The mockery on Luke's face was clear. "Mother, I am very much disappointed at you," he scolded. "I thought it would make you happy that I'm following your steps at last. After all, you were the one who tried to kill her once, if I'm not mistaken."

"That was before I knew…" her voice trailed off. She didn't feel strong enough to deal with the consequences of the truth. Besides, she knew, he wouldn't listen. He never did. "Luke, you must promise me not to have any contact with this woman. I mean any contact, especially not physical-"

"Why mother, what are you implying?" asked Luke, amused. It was obvious that he didn't take her seriously, at all. "I did find her amazingly beautiful and extremely attractive when we first met, especially this peculiar emerald skin of hers, but she is too married for it. And though the temptation is enormous, I rather kill her than be killed by her husband." He ignored her sigh of relief. "I have to go. I'm already late for a meeting. You won't stay here for long, mother, I can assure you that."

"Luke, wait," she said desperately, in one last attempt to make him listen to her. "Just… promise you'll do as I said. Promise you won't hurt her… or touch her… ever."

"Yes, mother," Luke replied in faked obedience, and left.

Madam Morrible sat back on the bed. A desperate sigh escaped her lips. Unexpected tears of frustration blinded her vision. She knew that he was mocking her. "Luke, don't hurt Elphaba… you can't possibly hurt her… she is your sister…" she murmured, but no one was there to listen to her in the cold, lonely, tiny cell.