:singsong voice: I'm baaa-ack! Didja miss me? lol The word sorry doesn't even begin to cover how evil i feel for making you wait so long. If anyone can get their hands on the little monster, someone please kill Liir for me. He's made the writing of this chapter very difficult. According to a good friend of mine, thisinstallment has been 2 months,1 week, and 2 days in the making or something of the like, and I still don't really like it. I hope the characterization isn't too off...if it is, pleasepleaseplease tell me so i can fix it! When i'm through with the ending I'm putting it through major overhaul to patch up the many many little holes all over it, so anything you can give me to make it better is highly appreciated. R&R, dearies!
Thank you all very much for putting up with my rambling,
-Linz-

Chapter 44

A week later, I hadn't yet spoken a word to Liir. He hadn't been trying to avoid me as adamantly as he'd used to, but instead he had taken to shooting venomous glances in my direction and bitching constantly to Dorothy about my 'wickedness'. Dorothy, wanting desperately to keep the fragile peace, yessed him to death but would often send pleading glances in my direction to try and make me understand why she did so. I resented it all with a fiery passion. Needless to say, I wasn't on very good terms with anyone. And Fiyero, every chance he got he would badger me about apologies. I insisted that I wouldn't waste any more breath on words that would go unheard. He would not see my logic. He did not know the boy, or the extent of what I'd done to make him hate me, and make me deserve such hate. He'd soon pushed my buttons one too many times, and I'd ended up barking at him to get the hell off my case for five minutes. Both of us stubbornly refused to speak to each other as we tried to salvage whatever scraps of pride we'd managed to preserve in ourselves. But as we both well knew, if there was to be love, there could be no room for pride. I was just too closed off right then to acknowledge it.

I'd taken to keeping myself shut up in Fiyero's and my room. The less contact I had with everyone else, the better. If no one was around, I couldn't do any more damage. Fiyero generally gave me my space, letting me battle my demons on my own. I spent an entire day curled up on the bed, my arms around my stomach, wondering darkly how, exactly, I was going to manage raising two children when I'd done such a wonderful job of screwing the first one up. It haunted me; I was not predisposed to motherly instincts. I guess I'd spent so long avoiding people and being avoided myself, I'd trained myself to believe once Fiyero had "died" that any wild impossible hopes of ever being a mother that I'd foolishly indulged myself with had died along with him. After that I'd dismissed children as things belonging to other people and of no concern to me. I never once considered children after I lost Fiyero, so I'd never really cared about them, or rather I tried to force myself not to care if they lived or died. After all, it was a group of children that had kept me from doing my job back fifteen-odd years ago; I couldn't bring myself to kill them just because they happened to be in the way. It had been those children who caused my first real failure in life. Later on I'd felt no icy slivers of guilt or remorse after Manek's death, at least not until I had to tell Fiyero the causes of his children's deaths, so why had I cared so much about Irji and Nor when I found them gone when I'd returned from visiting with Nessarose? I'd never really paid them much concern until it dawned on me that they would die if I didn't try something to get them out of whatever predicaments they'd been forced into. And why did I suddenly care about Liir now when I'd never done so before?

:Your perspective changes when you realize you can't afford to make the same mistakes again. You're worried about your own twins.:

:What do you want, Glinda: I sighed.

:To check up on you.:

:Oh, really.: I practically oozed sarcasm.

:We haven't spoken for a while.:

:And these impromptu conversations of yours are precisely the cause of that. Cut to the chase, Glinda, why are you here:

:Apologize to Liir or you'll never be able to get your sorry carcass out of Oz.:

:No.:

:I'm serious, Elphaba, I know that's what you've wanted for so long, to leave this place. And I know for a fact that Dorothy won't do one thing to help you, no matter how unbiased she's trying to be, until you reconcile yourself with Liir. She cares for him immensely, and won't let you get away with doing him further injustice. I worked with her as a teacher and a friend for long enough to figure out what makes her tick. Just make amends with the boy and you'll finally be able to reach the destination you've never been able to come close to before.:

:Why couldn't you have just let me leave that boy back in the Palace dungeons? It would've made my life so much easier.:

:I knew you would never forgive yourself if you had. It would've further complicated the already delicate state of order your mind is in with extra loads of guilt.:

:Well, now I regret getting him out of there with me. I seem to have such an uncanny knack for making people turn against me, don't I: I replied dryly.

:If you try to reconcile, maybe he'll come around enough to realize that you got him out of there for a reason, that your spell must've missed him for a reason.:

:Or maybe he'll close himself off like I'm sure he will and refuse to listen to even one syllable out of my mouth.:

:You are impossible.: she said, growing quite annoyed with me and my stubbornness.

:Thank you. I do my best.: I could practically see her pout and fold her arms, and hear that injured huff I knew so well.

:That oh-so-destructive spell of yours did miss him because buried way back somewhere in your cluttered wreck of a mind you truly meant for it to happen that way.:

:I can't imagine why.:

:Forget Liir, now you're the one closing yourself off. Elphaba, you know he's an innocent. You couldn't have made that spell include him even if he was the one you'd aimed it at and put all your strength behind it.:

:He's an innocent, I won't deny that, but an innocent ruined because of me, and just one more person in the hundredscores of those who hate me. And I'm sick of it. I want out.:

:Elphie, I know you are and I know you want to just forget that he ever existed but you can't, you know that as well as I do, and as well as Fiyero does. It's your awn fault Liir is the way he is and it will be your fault for the rest of your miserable life if you don't try to make things at least bearable between the two of you: She was exasperated now.

:Damn it all, Glinda, what makes you think he'll come around? What in Oz makes you think that I can just say I'm sorry and make it all vanish? Apologies can't erase the scars on a person's mind or on their heart! Apologies can't do away with all that I've done: I cried, before pausing for a moment in stiff silence. I forced my mental voice under control again, and croaked out, :I want you to go. Now. This discussion is closed.:

She rushed to cut in and add her last remarks on the subject, doing all that was within her power to make me listen. :But you'll have done all you can to right whatever wrongs you've committed to Liir! Doesn't that mean anything? What is so terrible about an apology? Are you afraid of him? Or is whatever pride you've got left keeping you from doing what you've know you have to and have meant to do ever since you learned he was yours:

:I have learned through more experience than I care to remember that no one listens to or believes anything said by someone the likes of me: I shouted, but by the time I finished speaking she'd already gone, tearing away faster than she'd ever done, and leaving me with even more inner demons to contend with.

That night when Fiyero slid into bed beside me, I hadn't moved any since Glinda had done her best to bend me into doing what I knew had to be done. He carefully maneuvered around me, thinking me asleep until his shadow left my face, the moonlight from the one window catching on the wetness that had collected in the corners of my near closed eyes. I was just too good at finding more reasons to hate myself. Between glaring daggers at anyone and everyone for the last few days, pushing away the one I loved the most, and as good as screaming bloody murder at a friend who'd only tried to help the one I'd refused to, my head was not exactly in the best condition. Then there was the heavy realization that all these problems I faced now I'd been taking ages in the making; first Liir, the fact that I couldn't do the transportation magics on my own, my having kept so many things from Fiyero for so long. And then, most prominently, letting myself become so consumed with hatred that I'd taken on the miserably flawed scheme that had eventually gotten Glinda killed, and how through hatred again I was now ruining Fiyero's and my last possible hope of finding something better than the wreckage that had been our lives in Oz. I'd been heedlessly giving up any compassion I'd once had to spread the hate I'd so long been a victim of, when I hadn't any shred of validation whatsoever to do so.

What was wrong with me?

The door creaked as Fiyero swung it shut. I felt gentle fingers stroke my face and his lips brush against my forehead.

"Elphaba, why do you do this to yourself?" he sighed. "Must you always choose to do things the hard way?"

I felt a bit better, thankful that his anger always cooled off much faster than my own, and comforted in knowing that there was at least one person in this world who didn't think I was something to be reviled. He laid himself beside me, passing an arm around my shoulders, and finally, curled against his side and eased by his warmth, I forced myself to let it go for now and sleep. Mercifully, I did not dream.

"Fabala?" I heard him murmur, his mouth against my hair. I buried my face closer into his chest and away from the light shaft that was falling across me. I did not want to get up. Every day just melded together, one fresh hell after another.

"Fabala, it's late." he repeated.

"To hell with it." I replied, squeezing my eyes tighter shut. I hadn't slept well in any sense of the term.

"They're out."

"Thank Oz." I breathed, still not ready to face Liir, Dorothy, or the apology I'd eventually have to give. I would do it today and not give myself any more time to drown in guilt and hate. Maybe it would finally clear my conscience.

"Hey," he said, taking my cheek in his hand and tilting my head so our eyes met, "do you feel alright? Look, your face..." I brought my hand up and fingered the thin inflamed streaks falling from my eyes. It must've happened while I'd been asleep.

"Oh...I'm alright." I said, grudgingly pushing myself up and fumbling around for the oil.

"What happened?"

"Guilt, I guess." He needed no other explanation. I found the bottle, opened the stopper and rubbed the stuff into the burns; I wasn't expecting it to sting, and I winced at the contact, continuing more gingerly. Once done, I closed the bottle and turned back to face Fiyero.

"Speaking of which, how's your arm feeling?" I asked; I'd been worried about him, no matter how much it'd seemed otherwise lately.

"It's not 'feeling' at all. Hasn't been for days. Most of it's been numb since I woke up. By now I doubt I'll really be able to get feeling back in it, ever." he said, seemingly resigned to it.

"I don't like the sound of that." I said, "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Why had I wanted him to? It wasn't as if I could've done anything about it anyway. Ruefully I wished I knew how to use healing magic. But I wasn't brave enough to practice on anything alive for fear of killing it, and Fiyero was the last person on which I'd be willing to practice - and most likely screw up.

"You have enough to deal with already. I think you can at least leave this thing to me, alright?" He seemed touchy about it, and I felt terrible, like the whole thing was still all my fault, which it probably was anyway. I wouldn't say so, of course; the last thing we needed was another catfight.

He sighed and rubbed the twisted scar running from his right shoulder to his elbow. "I can't even tell that I'm touching it at all. It's like the arm's not even there."

I didn't know what to tell him. I kissed his cheek, circling an arm around his neck and pulling him into a tight squeeze. "I'm sorry, love." I whispered in his ear. My eyes closed themselves, unable to bear the sight of my destructive handiwork anymore. His good arm wrapped itself around my back, and he made no other movement but breathing out into my hair, releasing his hurt without words. We didn't let go for a long time, silent and seeking solace from each other. When we finally did release each other, I still didn't know if we'd found that much-needed peace.

I spent much of the day hunched over my Grimmerie; the huge, familiar tome, being the nasty mysterious thing it was, decided to give me as hard a time as it ever had in trying to locate the instructions to a particular sort of magic. I attacked the book with a will, meaning to finish off everything I'd had hanging over my head since I got here. The silver writing swam into and out of intelligible words, making my head spin. Pages turned furiously, more often than not because I was quickly growing sick of staring at words I couldn't understand. I knew the right spell was here somewhere, I knew I'd seen it before on the many occasions I'd had to tear through the volume, and I was going to find it. I needed to live up to my word to Dorothy…and if luck decided to turn her face in my direction, the thing just might be able to help me right two wrongs in one go. The Tiger strolled over to sit at my feet, the first time I'd seen him at his full size in a while. His reptilian tail swished itself back and forth as the large cat amused himself watching the movement of a certain small sunbeam across the floor. Absently I reached down to stroke its ears, slowing in my feverish search through the volume; a page had caught my eye, it's elaborate illustration grabbing my attention. The silver letters ebbed and flowed over the illuminated drawing of a small house being carried by swirling winds. It was just what I needed.

"They're back." the Tiger said eventually, breaking the silence in the room. I looked up from my work momentarily to glance at the Animal. "You have about two minutes before they actually open the door." He was now calmly concentrating his attentions on a single speck of dust floating in the air, yet still managed, in whatever strange supernatural way, to shift back to housecat size without losing his focus on the dust.

"Lovely." I said, not exactly relishing the fact that I had my work cut out for me. Fiyero, standing behind me, squeezed my shoulder and kissed my ear before scooping up the little Tiger to retreat back into our room. He knew enough to let me deal with this on my own. Sure enough, once the two of them had left, Liir and Dorothy returned. Dorothy gave me a lukewarm smile, the same I'd been getting from her since I'd been here, picked up Chistery from the table and retreated into her own room – she'd seemed of late to prefer the company of the little menace to the other actual humans in this place. I could hardly blame her. She couldn't take the fighting anymore, either.

So there I was, sitting on the threadbare sofa, pointedly staring out the window and away from my son, who'd lowered himself into the other chair. He watched me, a vision of disdain personified. I wasn't going to leave the room; I'd been there first, after all. But apparently, Liir wasn't going to leave, either. Leaving the room for him would mean admitting that I intimidated him. I'd realized of late that if there was one thing he'd inherited from me, if nothing else, it was his pride. It may have taken years to emerge, but my own stubborn pride was definitely there, manifesting itself on his face, in his eyes. I didn't know what to think. Should I have been happy that something of my own had finally shown itself in him? Should I have felt he would've been better off without any remote resemblance to me at all?

But I was sure as ever, though, that both of us would've been better off if the boy had never been conceived in the first place. No, that wasn't right. I didn't hate Liir enough to think that. Keenly dislike, yes. Hate, no. I, of all people, had no right to hate. The boy was half my fault to begin with…more than half, actually, if you count the fact that I'd caused him to become the way he is. I owed Liir more than an apology, but there was no possible way I'd ever be able to make up for all I'd done wrong.

Not that I would've tried even if there had been a way.

Pride dies hard.

:Just get it over with.:

Anger bubbled up inside. :Glinda, I swear, you intrude again and I will hunt you down in whatever obscure afterlife you're inhabiting and I will kill you again.: She retreated after I'd voiced the empty threat, but I sensed a smug presence still lurking somewhere beyond my thoughts, and I swore that if I could see her, she'd have been giving me the most self-satisfied, I-told-you-so look I'd ever been given.

Liir noticed the way I breathed slowly, trying to keep the visible humiliation to a minimum. Quickly though, he turned away, realizing that I'd caught him staring. What, had it just registered in his mind exactly what I looked like? I straightened a little; I may have gotten used to feeling powerless lately, but still, I didn't need to look like the whipped dog I was in front of someone a fraction of my age. I turned to stare past the boy, focusing my eyes on nothing in particular.

The room remained in a tense, silent face-off for Oz knows how long while I battled with myself to just give in and get it over with. And eventually, I opened my mouth.

"I'm sorry, you know." The words sounded foreign, heavy and quiet. His face took a moment to register what he'd heard.

"Excuse me?" he said derisively. He wanted no part of what I had to say, no surprise there. But I'd finally gotten started on this damn thing, and I was going to say what I had to whether he liked it or not.

"Much of why I'm here is my own damn fault, and I'm sorry I've been imposing myself on you unwanted."

"Like I had a choice but to let you in." he spat, glancing towards the door to Dorothy's room and back to me, taking care not to meet my eyes. For the whole duration I'd been here, he'd never once brought himself to full on meet my eyes.

"Look, if I could've helped it, I would be anywhere else but here right now. I don't like it any more than you do. Any halfwit could figure that out for himself - " For my own good, I cut that remark off right there. "But that deviates from what I mean to say."

"Not like I care." he said. I chose to ignore it, though heat had begun to creep through my blood.

"The last thing I want is to push you further than I already have. I've been years in ruining your life and looking back now I regret most everything I've ever done in that respect." He snorted contemptuously, but let me continue. This wasn't what he'd expected to come out of my mouth. And I think that somehow, perversely, he now wanted to hear what I had to say.

"Your…your perspective changes when you realize…that you can't afford to make the same mistakes twice." I hated to admit it, especially out loud, but Glinda was right. Again. :Are you quite happy now: my mind voice shot at her, incensed. She laughed, and the sound and her presence faded away from my thoughts.

"I don't know what you want me to do, but I can't rescue you from everything. If I could start my life over – " wouldn't that would be wonderful, to just wipe it all away – "I wouldn't choose to put you through the shit I did. Yes, boy, I do have some sense of morality in me, don't look so shocked, dammit. I treated you like I'd been treated my whole life – nothing could ever justify that, least of all coming from me."

Liir seemed neither to have heard nor felt anything in regards to what I'd just said. He was expressionless, posture stiff, and eyes cold and hard. Then, as I searched his face for a reaction, I realized just how similar the boy really was to the girl I used to be.