A/N: Thank you all for your patience! I can't believe how long it took to get this uploaded. I'm sorry! Please forgive me. This is my solemn promise that Chapter 14 will be up quicker.

This story is really miserable... I feel like I'm just realising that. And yet you've all been nice enough to stay with it! That means a lot more than I can say. I promise Elphaba will get the happy ending we all know she deserves.

EvearnPinkandGreenForGood: Mareem's accent is... I'm not completely sure haha. It's just what I imagine her to sound like in my head. But it's probably a combination of Scottish, North of England and a little Republic of Ireland for good measure.

Mareem had to leave. He was making her leave.

He had spent the last hour in his office, talking to Mareem in a low voice. Elphaba paced nervously outside the room, her hands twisting like vines. When the door opened, Mareem's face was solemn, and she met Elphaba's gaze with a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry," was all she said.

"Move, woman!" The harsh voice of her father followed Mareem, then he appeared behind her like a looming tower.

Elphaba stood up straight, her eyes begging Mareem's for answers. Her friend smiled wearily, but it didn't calm Elphaba one bit.

"Elphaba," barked Frex. "Get back to work."

She shrank a little, but her feet refused to follow his orders. "Mareem, where are you going?" she asked instead.

"I said back to work!" Frex repeated, now propelling Mareem forward roughly.

"Mareem, where are you going?" Elphaba's voice rose in pitch, edging on panic.

"Don't worry about me, love," she answered soothingly.

When Elphaba made to move forward in protest, it was Fiyero who discretely grasped her arm gently but firmly, careful to stay unnoticed by Frex, pulling her back. Elphaba hadn't even noticed him approach. When had he arrived? She must have been too lost in her own thoughts to realise what was happening around her, or to think of anything other than what was transpiring in the office with Father and Mareem. Elphaba whirled around on him, her eyes begging him for answers, as if he knew any more than she did, but his gaze was heavy with warning. He minutely shook his head, compelling her not to draw attention to themselves. Normally Elphaba would be the one trying to keep their growing friendship hidden – now, however, she was too emotionally charged to help herself.

She had enough sense left to follow his unspoken lead, though. She pulled away from Fiyero, stumbling after Mareem. "Tell me where you're going!" she begged, stubbornly.

"Mareem is no longer in our employ," Frex answered coldly. "Back to work, witch!"

Elphaba began to tremble, but she could no longer speak. Mareem couldn't go. She couldn't! In a blind panic, she grasped Mareem's apron, clutching tightly. Suddenly, she felt like she was three years old again, on the eve of her mother's death. Seemingly having had enough, Frex pushed himself over to Elphaba and viciously pried open her death grip.

Before Elphaba realised what she was doing, her magic responded to her despair as she struggled to get free of Frex's hold. A fine porcelain vase came flying at her from some unknown direction. Narrowly, she ducked to avoid being hit.

The vase crashed into Frex's head.

For one slow, horrible moment, Frex's face froze in an expression of shock and anger. He began to sway, and Elphaba almost thought he was going to reach out and grab her. Then he collapsed at Elphaba's feet, out cold.

Elphaba stood still in horror and sick relief, gulping in ragged breaths of air. What had she just done?

Whatever it was she had done, the result was sickeningly clear. Frex's body now lay splayed out on the floor. Still. So still. His form was like that of a drugged beast. She hardly dared to believe that he wouldn't get to his feet at any moment.

Mareem, face pale and drawn, cautiously tiptoed towards the ugly shards of pottery now splattered like blood over the floor. She picked up one of the ceramic pieces, turning to Elphaba solemnly but not unkindly. "Ye need t' try an' control those powers, my sweet," she said softly. "One day, they might get ye int' a lot o' trouble."

Alarmingly, the room started to spin, and Elphaba was just aware of Fiyero catching her as she began to fall. Tenderly, he sat her down on the floor, propped up against the wall. "Place your head between your knees," he instructed calmly and authoritatively. That tone again. He had only used that tone with her once before. It was that tone that confused her so much, and yet she was beginning to crave it.

Mareem's and Fiyero's voices became rather faded, as though she were listening to them through an ocean.

"Does this kind of thing happen often? With her powers?"

"Quite often. Since she were a child."

"She could hurt herself."

"Very easily. They respond to 'er emotions. Not a very ideal situation, if ye ask me."

"And Governor Thropp..." the voices lowered, becoming more difficult to hear.

"...a rough relationship..."

"...abusive..."

"...tried t' 'elp..."

Elphaba squeezed her eyes shut, blocking them out. Eventually, the world restored some equilibrium, and she felt brave enough to look up. They were still talking softly with one another, not looking at her. Finally, Mareem nodded decisively, and looked back in her direction with something like mournfulness in her eyes. Slowly, she bent down to grasp her young friend's hand gently, squeezing it to gain her attention. Elphaba returned her look questioningly.

"We'll have to deal with yer Father," she began. "Get 'im up t' bed."

Elphaba nodded.

A sad smile stretched across Mareem's face. "Then I'll have t' go, my sweet. But don't worry about me, an' don't be frightened. This is a good thing."

Elphaba's eyes widened. How could this be a good thing? "No, Mareem," she begged brokenly. "Please don't go. I need you."

Mareem smiled but shook her head. "No, ye don't. Listen," she squeezed her hand tighter. "All these years, I've made life bearable for ye. And that's been what ye've needed, while ye've been a child with no other options. But ye're eighteen now. Ye have options."

Elphaba furrowed her brow in confusion as her muddled brain tried to make sense of what Mareem was saying. It didn't make any sense.

"Ye have options," Mareem continued, as if to drum it into Elphaba's brain, as though she expected her to know what it meant. "Ye don't need me," she glanced at Fiyero. "Ye jus' need love. From whoever will give it t' ye. Ye're not alone, Elphaba."

Tears filled Elphaba's eyes. "I've always been alone, Mareem. You know that."

"Maybe that was true once. But there are people in the world who will 'elp ye. Promise me ye won't shut yer eyes t' them, or try t' push 'em away." Mareem looked like she was trying to communicate something very important just then, but Elphaba felt as if she was missing it entirely.

"You help me!" Elphaba tried to protest.

"I 'ave 'elped ye," Mareem agreed. "An' I've been glad t' do it. But ye need somethin' more than someone jus' to help ye' get through the day. I've never met anyone quite like ye, Elphaba Thropp. The world's waiting fer ye."

Elphaba could hardly see for her tears. She could hardly breathe. All she could comprehend was that Mareem was leaving her. And irrational as it was, the feeling of abandonment left a coldness in her chest.

Here, Fiyero stepped in, lifting Elphaba from the ground by the arm. "Elphaba, we need to get your Father off the floor. Mareem and I will need to lift him together. Can you guide us up to his chamber?"

In her bewilderment, Elphaba simply nodded, unconsciously wrapping her arms around her waist listlessly while Fiyero and Mareem shared a glance. She didn't much notice how they got Frex off the floor. They each placed one of his large arms around their shoulders, propelling him slowly up the stairs. By the time they reached Frex's chamber, the body of her father fell like a sack of potatoes onto the bed, as Mareem and Fiyero drew in deep breaths. "Your father is heavy, Elphaba," Fiyero remarked ironically. It didn't make her laugh though.

Quietly, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led them both back down to the hallway, Mareem following close behind.

"Where will you go, Mareem?" Fiyero asked, concern laced through his voice.

Mareem shrugged. "T' my daughter's in Quox, I s'ppose. 'Tis a long journey, but old Mareem will make it. Ye can be certain o' that."

Fiyero nodded. "Is there any way we can help you?"

Mareem grinned a little weakly. "Well, some bread and cheese from t' kitchen would go a long way." Then she turned to Elphaba, seriously. "And this." She dug her hand into her apron pocket, and pulled out a small, slightly dog-eared piece of paper. She handed it to Elphaba.

Puzzled, Elphaba turned it over in her hand. Then her breath hitched. It was a miniature, hastily drawn but clearly done with love. Her own face stared back at her, and she looked up at Mareem in amazement.

Mareem explained, "It's a sketch of you, love. Bet ye didn't know that yer old friend could draw, now, did ye?"

A sudden lump forming in her throat, Elphaba shook her head.

Mareem tapped her nose. "I kept it a secret pretty well. But I want ye t' know that I drew this a year ago, and I've kept it with me ever since. Ye're very precious t' me. An' this sketch will stay with me fer as long as I live."

Sobbing, Elphaba launched herself at Mareem, throwing her arms around her neck tightly. "You really love me?" she managed to get out through her tears. They were no longer just tears of sadness, but a singular mix of joy, release and heavy grief.

"I really do," Mareem assured her softly in her ear. The old woman rubbed her back gently.

It was almost too much for Elphaba to comprehend. She'd never been loved in her life. But somehow, in that moment, she knew for certain that if her Father had never loved her then Mareem did.

"I'll get that bread and cheese for you," Fiyero spoke quietly, so as not to interrupt their moment.

Mareem looked briefly over Elphaba's shoulder to nod at him, smiling. "Thank you, yer 'ignness."

"It's just Fiyero," he returned back.

Mareem hummed in acknowledgement, then Fiyero left to collect the supplies.

Gently, Mareem pulled back, wiping Elphaba's tears away. "Now, my sweet. I 'ave the sketch t' keep me company. I'd like you t' 'ave somethin'as well."

Puzzled, Elphaba allowed Mareem to lead her by the hand out to the garden. They were heading for Mama's flower beds, she realised. They had been kept flourishing since her death. Mareem idly grazed her finger against the petals of a rose bush, looking more serious than Elphaba had ever seen her. "Ye like these bushes, don't ye?" Mareem asked her.

Elphaba nodded mutely. She bit her lip. "Nessa gets one of these roses every year when they bloom, as a gift from Father."

She wasn't sure what possessed her to say it, but Mareem nodded, as if this was what she had expected her to say. "P'rhaps it's time for ye to have one."

Astonishment seized her, and she stood up straight, quickly retracting her hand from where she'd been unconsciously caressing one of the roses – a deep red coloured one. "But-" she stammered.

"Now, now," Mareem admonished her. "I won't 'ear it." With that, she produced a small knife from her pocket and worked away at the rose, careful to avoid the thorns. Succeeding, the rose fell back into her hand, and she handed it to Elphaba.

Elphaba took it, mainly because she didn't know what else to do. "But-" she tried again. "Only Nessa gets these roses."

"An' why is that?" Mareem prodded.

Elphaba looked down, suddenly ashamed. She buried her hands in her dress so she wouldn't have to see the hideous green. The rose, though, she carefully kept out, pinching its stem through the fabric of her frock. "She just does," she answered quietly. "Everyone gives roses to Nessa. Because they remind people of her."

Mareem hummed. "I know what ye're sayin', lass. Nessarose is gentle an' delicate, like a rose. It's in 'er name. Am I right?"

Elphaba looked away. "Yes. And... she's beautiful like a rose."

Firmly, Mareem clasped her hand, drawing it out from beneath her dress. "Look, Elphaba. Look at yer hand."

Reluctantly, Elphaba did so. She wasn't met with anything other than what she expected. The green was as awful as ever.

"It's unusual," Mareem continued, cradling Elphaba's hand in her own. "But not ugly. Do ye know what a deep red rose stands fer?"

Elphaba shook her head.

"Unconscious beauty," Mareem answered, with strange emphasis. "What about a green rose. Do ye know what that means?"

"Green roses don't exist."

Mareem snorted. "They do indeed. They're unusual, but exist they do."

That caused Elphaba to sit up. She hadn't known that.

Mareem smiled knowingly. "A green rose means life. Renewal of energy and spirit."

Elphaba's brow furrowed in confusion, and Mareem laughed.

"Don't look so perplexed, love. Here's what I'm tryin' to say. People may associate a traditional rose with Nessarose. But there's far more to 'em roses than what most people see. An' there's far more to Elphaba Thropp than what most people see. So if ye ever find a green rose, I want ye t' keep it. It's yours. Do ye understand?"

She wasn't sure that she did, but she nodded anyway.

Mareem smiled at something over Elphaba's head. "Ah, 'ere comes my bread an' cheese."

Elphaba turned around, and sure enough, Fiyero was jogging towards them, a parcel wrapped in a kitchen towel. He handed it to Mareem and she took it with a grin. "Knew you were worth yer salt," she remarked to Fiyero.

Fiyero snorted in something like disbelief. "Don't know about that, but you're welcome."

A rustle met all of their ears from somewhere amongst the bushes, and Elphaba's eyes snapped towards the sound. "Was that..." she began. She didn't get to finish her sentence however, as a familiar face poked out fearfully from amongst the greenery.

Elphaba gasped. "Bir!"

Fiyero's jaw dropped. "What are you doing here?" he demanded. "In broad daylight?"

Bir's eyes glinted in a mixture of acknowledgement and fear. He didn't come any further from the bushes, for which Elphaba and Fiyero were both grateful. "I'll explain later," he answered cryptically. "Dr Dillamond... never mind. We had reason to think you might need us, Miss Elphaba." He turned his gaze to her, silently entreating her understanding.

"But it's not safe!" she ejaculated, remembering at the last to lower her voice into a whisper, should someone overhear. "What if someone sees you?"

"I won't stay long," Bir whispered back. "But you do need us, don't you?"

Elphaba frowned. "I..."

Mareem had been silent up until this point, but now she chuckled throatily. "Ye're one o' the Animals my young friend's been 'elping, aren't ye?"

Bir lowered his head shamefully.

Elphaba spun her head to look at Mareem in shock. "You know?" she exclaimed.

Mareem simply nodded, as if that should have been obvious. "An', do ye 'ave a safe place to stay?" she asked Bir, head tilted in sudden interest.

Bir nodded. "We do... um..."

Mareem nodded decisively. "Good. Would ye object to 'aving a human join yer ranks?"

…

It hadn't been what anyone was expecting. Elphaba should have been grateful that Mareem wouldn't have to go all the way to Quox after all. She supposed she was grateful. At least this way, she would get to see her again.

Everything had moved swiftly from there. Once Bir had been convinced that they had nothing to fear from Mareem – realising that Elphaba trusted her did most of the work – the two left together. Elphaba thought she had no more tears left to cry. It seemed though that that wasn't the case.

Fiyero hastily led her to the library – the one place in the mansion they were unlikely to be disturbed. As soon as they closed the door, Elphaba's tears fell once more. She couldn't help it. A combination of all that had happened, and everything she'd lost, seemed about to push her to the edge. The explosion. Her father's beatings. Delaya. Mareem. She didn't want to fall apart in front of Fiyero. Really, she didn't. But it didn't really seem as though her frayed emotions were giving her much of a choice at the moment.

And really, all things considered, it wasn't all that bad. She found herself cocooned in Fiyero's arms as she cried, and even though her heart ached, she was comforted by the rhythmic movements of his hands across her shoulders and down her back. This was something that was happening more and more often, she was finding. Herself in Fiyero's arms. It was probably to do with the awful set of events that had been set in action since he had arrived. But secretly, she wondered whether she would have become so attached had it been anyone else that had come to visit them. If it had been anyone else, wouldn't she have retreated into herself, and let her pillow be the only one to witness her tears?

Yes, she was becoming very attached to Fiyero.

As her tears began to calm, Elphaba became aware that she was now almost in Fiyero's lap on the sofa, his arms still around her, although only his thumb continued the tender stroking movement. She had nestled her head in the crook of his neck, and... could she surely be imagining the closeness of his lips to her forehead? She couldn't move an inch. She didn't want to.

"Mareem was right, you know," Fiyero began. It was the first time either of them had spoken in a while.

Elphaba looked up at him with a frown. "Right about what?"

He smiled softly. "You have options. I'm guessing you haven't really done much in your life, other than serve your father and care for Nessa. Have you even been to school?"

Elphaba pursed her lips. "Not really. I mean, I taught myself to read, but..."

She yelped as Fiyero suddenly sat up straighter, taking her with him. "Wait..." he sounded stunned. "You taught yourself to read?"

Elphaba's frown deepened. "Yes. It's not like anyone would have taught me."

"But..." he stammered. "But... how?"

Elphaba chuckled weakly. "I found some of Nessa's teaching resources that her tutor used. The tutor just left them lying in the school room."

Fiyero looked amused. "So naturally, you had to take them."

"I didn't take them. I never took them out of the room. I just snuck in when no one was looking."

Fiyero rolled his eyes. "Of course. So what were the resources, and how come you could use them without being directly taught?"

Elphaba shrugged. "Initially they were just pictures of different objects, with the beginning letter next to the picture. I figured out how the two were connected, and then I could take it from there." She looked up, only just realising that Fiyero was blinking at her in astonishment. She had to laugh at him. "You're looking at me like I just said I'm secretly a contortionist who ran away from the circus."

He sniggered. "Aren't you?"

It was amazing. Already, she felt so much lighter than she had twenty minutes ago. And the way Fiyero was looking at her right now was... unfamiliar. And kind of wonderful. She felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She was about to respond, when suddenly the door to the library opened, and the two leapt away from one another as Nessa rolled in.

"Fabala," she started, her voice thick with perplexity. "What happened to Father? He's in his chamber, and I can't wake him up." At once, it seemed to dawn on her that Elphaba was not alone in the room. Her eyebrows lowered in further confusion, and her pretty face flushed. "Elphaba..."

"Nessa!" Elphaba stood up hurriedly, her head spinning with the sudden movement. "Father is, um..."

Nessa interrupted, rolling further into the room. "What are you doing? Have you been crying?"She seemed to peer into Elphaba's face in a way that was intrusive and unsettling.

"I'm fine," Elphaba rushed to say, turning away slightly to avoid her sister's piercing eyes. Curse her tears and the havoc they must have wreaked on her face.

"Miss Nessarose," Fiyero stepped forward, inclining his head in acknowledgement. "Allow me to assure you that your sister is alright."

Nessa's eyes snapped to Fiyero's, and then they narrowed. "Why are you two in here alone, if I may ask?"

Elphaba's breathing sped up, and she felt her face heat almost unpleasantly. It suddenly occurred to her that it perhaps wasn't completely appropriate for her to be alone with the man her sister may very soon be engaged to. How had this thought never troubled her before? How could she possibly have bypassed it?

And then another thought struck her. It was the thought of how much she hated the very idea of Fiyero and Nessa becoming engaged. That was even more worrying. What was wrong with her?

Once again, Fiyero was the one to speak. Which was just as well, because for once, Elphaba was lost for words. "Governor Thropp is indisposed. You may be aware that Mareem has just left us?"

Nessa paused, then nodded.

Elphaba felt any remnant of peace vanish at the reminder.

"I'm afraid that leaves just you and I, and Elphaba. I know it isn't exactly proper, but surely you see that the situation is less than ideal?"

Elphaba had just a second to marvel at how smoothly Fiyero had defended their position when Nessa interjected rather sharply.

"You could have asked for me."

Elphaba took an unsteady breath. "Yes, we probably should have." Her words came in a rush. She hurried over to Nessa's side, kneeling down before her. "I'm sorry. We weren't thinking."

Nessa seemed in that moment to see right through her, and for the first time in all the time she'd been with her sister, Elphaba felt... exposed.

"And then," Nessa continued, "there's the matter of Father's indisposal. What in the name of Oz happened?"

Fiyero walked over and placed a hand on Nessa's shoulder. Elphaba resisted the sudden, fervent urge to shove his hand off. "We'll discuss it. I'm afraid there was an accident."

"An accident?" Nessa's eyes flashed. "What sort of accident?"

Elphaba noticed Fiyero bite his lip. "Perhaps we had better find somewhere else to talk about it?"

"I'd like to talk for a moment with my sister, if you don't mind."

Both Elphaba and Fiyero were silent for several seconds. It was clear to both that what Nessa had just said was an order, and not a request.

"Of course, Miss Nessarose," Fiyero answered, although this time, he sounded far less sure.

Elphaba reached over to try and squeeze Nessa's hand, but Nessa quickly drew it away. Her stomach dropped, and her heart suddenly hurt. Never had Nessa refused a gesture of affection from her.

How much had she noticed, exactly, when she entered the library?