A/N: Yeah, I haven't updated this either. Yeah, I know I suck. No, I don't care. Here you are then. Go on, read it, and don't forget to review or face the wrath of ME! Another note: NOT Gelphie. Friends can have their sentimental moments, come on now. Sadly, this is the end. I may decide otherwise later, but for now, it is.
Disclaimer: It may be my wrath, but Wicked isn't mine. Some of the later dialogue is taken from the play, one phrase from the book (see if you can find it!) and one from a song in the play.
The guards exchange looks, I can tell they're not sure how to handle this. After all, Fiyero was one of their own, their leader, in fact. But the one who has taken his place as captain gets a hard look on his face and grips my arm the tighter.
"You heard me," says Fiyero. "Let her go."
"No, you traitor!" yells the new captain.
"Can I please have my blood circulation back?" I query, but get no response.
Fiyero leaps from the rope, yelling like a maniac, and pulls out a sword. The guards start fighting him, leaving just the captain holding my arm.
"Hello, witch," he says.
"Why that pleases you I don't know, it rather ought to alarm you," I say. "But nevertheless, I'm the one holding all the cards here."
"What?" he asks. I smile sweetly and kick him hard in the groin with my heavy boot. You know, I'm getting more and more thankful that I didn't get my sister's shoes.
"Oof!" he bends reflexively and releases me.
"You'd think they'd be wise to that trick by now," I say, and shrug.
"You little bitch," he growls.
"Ooh, we've graduated to rhyming now, is that it?" I taunt. "I'm not the one howling in pain here." I kick him again for good measure.
"Elphie! Some help? How's today work for you?" yells Fiyero.
I nick the guard's sword and run to help.
Who knew swordsmanship was so…awkward? I find myself nearly dropping the benighted thing at every turn. Nonetheless, my lack of proficiency and grace makes me a loose cannon of sorts, and so the guards all back away from me, apparently lacking the desire to be beheaded by an accidental (or not) freak twist of my wrist. Unfortunately, Fiyero has to back away too, and they grab him.
"Fiyero, no!" I cry, and hurl the sword over my shoulder. I ignore the shrieks from the guards and Glinda behind me, running to dodge it.
"Elphaba, go!" yells Fiyero, "Go now! There's nothing you can do if they catch you, too!" That makes sense. I don't want it to.
"I love you!" I scream, and then I run. Dash grab broom don't stop run into the cover of the forest on the broom upwards and westwards.
How does Fiyero expect me to find his damn castle? I wonder, just as I pass a sign reading, Kiamo Ko, This Way, Two Miles.
Oh. That's how. Thought the Vinkus was further than this, but I'm sure not looking a gift horse in the mouth.
You should, that's how Troy fell. WHAT?
Honestly, I don't know what goes on in my head half the time.
When at last I arrive, I leap off of my broom and run inside. I see none of the sentries Fiyero was talking about, which is probably for the best. Time is of the essence, and explaining what the devil a green fugitive witch is doing here is not on my top ten list of things to do right at this moment.
Through the doors, up some stairs- I need to find a private alcove, where I won't be interrupted- pulling the Grimmerie out as I go, praying, begging anyone who's listening all the while to please not let them hurt him, please. I find an isolated stairwell and sink down to my knees and search desperately through the Grimmerie, half of which I can't even read, desperately hoping against hope I'll find what I need- and recognize it if I do. There!
Nunquam intereo, reads the top of the spell. I close my eyes. Somehow, I know it means "Never die."
"Eleka nahmen nahmen ah tum ah tum eleka nahmen!" I let the rich, full, words spill quickly, urgently, over my tongue, mentally adding my own fervent prayers- Let his flesh not be torn, let his blood leave no stain. Though they beat him, let him feel no pain! Let his bones never break and however they try to destroy him, let him never die! "Please," I murmur, "let him never die."
I recite the foreign words of the spell once again, doubt and hope commingling in my heart.
"Oh, what good can this possibly do?" I sob, casting the book aside. "This might not even be the right spell- God only knows what mess I've created now! Nothing I ever do, no matter how noble my intentions, ever comes out right! All I ever wanted to do was help," I cry, tears pouring down my face, "but all I ever do is cause more pain!" Sobbing hard, I collapse into a broken heap.
A few hours later, I awaken. I cannot believe I fell asleep! My husband is probably dead, all because of me, and if he's not, I'm his only chance for survival (he's doomed) and I fall asleep? What kind of a person am I?
Suddenly, I hear noise from downstairs.
"Hullo? Is anyone here? I'm supposed to find the Wicked Witch of the West-"
"Could you not say that?" asks a voice that sounds just like Fiyero's. No. I'm hallucinatory with grief, that's it.
"Why?" asks the first voice, a young girl's.
"Just humor a straw idiot, would you?" says the Fiyero-voice.
"All right, Scarecrow, I suppose."
"I- I'm terrified of witches, Dorothy," warbles a third voice.
"You're scared of everything!" another faintly familiar voice. Not like Fiyero's, this one, but who?
"And you're heartless!" cries the scared voice.
"Oh, Lion, it's all right," the girl's voice answers. "Go on over there and wait, all of you. If I'm not back in a moment- come and rescue me, or what's left- and Toto, save him too if you can!"
Oh, please. That's just sickening, as if I could kill anyone if I wanted to. And I don't even know this girl, whyever is she afraid of me?
The Wizard, damn him. Glinda? Her, too? Morrible?
I pull myself out of my broken muddle of self-pity and stand; I can play the coldhearted, haughty viper when it's required of me, after all, I was a student of Madame Morrible's once. The girl steps into the room, and I recognize her: The girl from the woods. Dorothy, they called her. And that means Boq, his was the other voice I recognized. Maybe that one, that straw man, really did sound like Fiyero…no, Elphaba! You can't think about that now, focus on the moment or you'll break down again!
I've found one snatch of happiness again, and again the Wizard has snatched it away. But now. Dorothy.
Clear-eyed and straight-spined, she stares at me.
"I'm sorry about your sister," she says.
"Oh, please, you are not. You probably want to kill me, too," I reply.
"No- well, I was told to, but-"
"By the Wizard, I presume? Not content with killing Nessarose and Fiyero and destroying my happiness for the second time, he's got to kill me, too? Well, did he at least give you a reason, or are you really so dull as to go around killing anyone the first minute someone says to?"
Dorothy looks bewildered. She has got no idea what I'm talking about. Of course, I don't either.
"He said," she stammers, "he said that you're wicked."
This bothers me not at all.
"From his point of view," I reply. This, too, appears to confuse the girl somewhat. She must be used to terms of black and white, rather than moral ambiguities.
"All I want is to go home," she says tearfully, then begins to cry. Oh, brilliant.
"Well, give me back those shoes, then," I improvise- maybe if I put them on and say the spell, I can save Fiyero!- "And I'll try-"
"I can't! They don't come off!" she cries.
Glinda. Sometimes, I swear…
"I just want," she sobs, "to see my Auntie Em and-" another sob- "Uncle Henry again!"
"Well then, just- just- go over there and get the damn shoes off, or something!" I yell, pointing to a corner. I cannot deal with this right now. She does so, still sobbing, but at least now it's slightly muffled. I run my hands through my hair, knock off my hat. I grab it and shove it firmly back on my head.
"Well, this is a fine kettle of fish," I mutter. Dorothy's sobs are getting louder and even more annoying, if that's even possible!
"Oh, for Oz's sake, stop crying!" I yell. "I cannot listen to it anymore! You want to see your Auntie Em and Uncle What's-his-face again, get those shoes the hell off of your feet!" The crying subsides, at last. My annoyance, however, has only grown. "Little brat," I mutter, growing progressively, irrationally, more irritated. "Takes a dead woman's shoes…must have been raised in a barn!" Suddenly, I remember, we sent the monkeys here.
"Chistery," I call, "oh, Chistery, there you are." I add as he appears. "Where are the others?" I ask, hoping to coax him to speak, but he only points. "Please, Chistery, if you don't at least try to keep speaking, you'll never-" I trail off as I catch a flash of glitter out of the corner of my eye. I turn. Glinda.
"They're coming for you," she says quietly. I suppose she means an angry mob out to kill me, if Dorothy can't manage it. Well, I don't care; Fiyero's gone, I'm better off dead. At least then the Wizard won't have the satisfaction of snatching my happiness away anymore.
"Go away," I tell Glinda bitterly. Oh, I miss her, miss our friendship- how can I have let this rift grow so deep?
"Let the little girl go, and that poor little dog…Dodo," says Glinda. She always did get names wrong.
I didn't realize that thing in the girl's basket was a dog, to be honest. It looked more like a rodent or something. I make a pfut noise in response to Glinda. The girl came here herself, and she's welcome to leave, at least then I could hear myself think!
"I know you don't want to hear this," Glinda says. Then don't tell me, I think. "But someone has to say it. You're out of control! I mean, come on! They're just shoes, let it go! Elphaba," she says, sincerely, "you can't go on like this."
She's right, which pisses me off even more. Maybe I have PMS.
"I can do whatever I want," I say obstinately. "I'm the Wicked Witch of the freaking West!"
Another monkey approaches, bearing a letter. Oh, so that's where he went.
"At last," I grumble, glad for an excuse to ignore Glinda for the moment, "what took you so long?" It's probably news of Fiyero's death…"Why are you bothering me with this?" I cry, near tears, as I tear it open and read it quickly.
Oh, thank Oz, thank God, thank everything and everyone!
It's from Fiyero.
Dear Elphaba,
I haven't much time. I'm alive. I think you did a spell? You saved me. I'm here, in the castle. I'm 'the Scarecrow', I'll explain later. But the others- Boq, and the Lion cub we saved at Shiz- are going to want to 'save' Dorothy from you soon. There's a fireplace, it should be lit if I remember. When we get up there, get the broom lit on fire and 'threaten' me with it- but DO be careful!- and I'll get it to light your dress. Dorothy will dump water on you (she's the worst murderer in history, trust me) and if she doesn't, I will. Stand over the trapdoor, it's in the exact center of the room- six feet from the window. You see the tiny switch? Trip it with your boot heel when she dumps the water. I'll get you when it's safe.
Love, Fiyero
I screw up my expression into one of grief.
"What is it?" asks Glinda, worried. "What's wrong? It's Fiyero, isn't it? Is he…"
My mind works furiously. I don't want to lie to her. "We've seen his face for the last time," I finally say. He's a Scarecrow, after all, I see how the spell could have worked that way. I only pray I'll be able to fix it!
"Oh, no!" cries Glinda. Oh, dear, I feel awful. She'll think I'm dead, think we're both dead…no one deserves that. I'll find a way to let her know. I will.
"You're right," I say slowly. "It's time I surrender."
I spot a bucket of water in the corner, pick it up, and place it conveniently beside the trap door.
Glinda knows me too well; she hears something in my voice, or reads my thoughts.
"Elphie," she says, "Elphie, what is it?"
If only I could tell her. My heart is breaking, but I have to go on with the plan.
"You can't be found here," I tell her urgently, "you've got to hide."
"No," says Glinda firmly. Damn, she's stubborn.
"You must leave," I plead.
"No, Elphie. I'll tell them everything." If only. If only it were that easy. They're giddy with hatred, swooning with anger. They won't believe even Glinda the Good.
"They'll only turn against you," I say the truth, sadly.
"I don't care!" yells Glinda, her hysteria building. Two hysterical girls, and me, too. Why is nothing in this life easy?
"I do!" I am equally insistent. "Promise me," I say, grabbing her wrists and forcing her to focus on me, "promise me you won't try to clear my name." She says nothing. I shake her wrists. "Promise!"
"Alright! I promise…but I don't understand," she relents.
"Glinda," I tell her, my own tears building up, "It's all up to you now. Everything I never accomplished, you can."
"Elphie, please, don't talk like that!" she cries.
"Here," I say, holding out the Grimmerie. "Go on, take it."
"Elphie…you know I can't read that…Elphie, you aren't…"
"You'll have to learn to read it, then," I say firmly, pressing it into her hands. "You're the only friend I've ever had," I tell her, the tears spilling over. "And you are the only real friend I've ever had," Glinda replies, crying now too.
"You'll- have to hide," I tell her through my tears. Please put the pieces together, Glinda, I'm crying, don't you see, water doesn't really hurt me- "No one can know you were here! Hide!"
She starts to go, turns back, hugs me tightly, and then runs off.
"Goodbye, Glinda," I say softly.
I hear them coming. The mob, in the distance, but closer, already in the room, Glinda gone just in time, Tinman Boq, the Lion we saved (who saved us, in a way, too) Fiyero the Scarecrow, and the girl Dorothy, standing and joining them. I light the broom. Fiyero, half-smiling, extends his arm, I bring the broom near it, but it gets shoved back- my dress is on fire- Dorothy pours the water- my scream is real, it's cold- I trip the door and fall- but I see only Glinda's stricken face.
It is a very long time of dark aloneness before I hear the faintest pounding above me, so light it's barely audible, but then, it is silent as death down here. The hatch opens.
"It worked!" Fiyero cries jubilantly as I pull myself out.
"Fiyero! I thought you'd never get here," I say, and then see the full extent of the spell for the first time. I slowly reach out towards his sack face. "Oh," I breathe.
"Go ahead, touch," he says, "I don't mind."
He sees the distress, the guilt, in my eyes, and rushes to reassure me.
"Ah, you did the best you could," he tells me gently. "You saved my life."
I touch him softly.
"You're still beautiful," I say, and he is. Right now, in fact, he is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
"You don't have to lie to me," he says, turning away. I turn his chin back towards me, echo his own words, "It's not lying, it's looking at things another way."
And then we are kissing, even though he is straw, and it's still wonderful, beautiful, amazing. And I will find a way to let Glinda know, and we will find somewhere to call home, and it will all be all right.
Then I realize- I don't need to find a home. I'm already there. And there's no place like it.