A/N: You'll notice I've condensed and consolidated some of the chapters, but I promise, it's all still there! I'd greatly appreciate a review if you're enjoying the story so far.
Doctor Dillamond was dead.
The whole campus was buzzing with the news the next morning. Elphaba found it difficult to concentrate on anything else, and in a rare moment of desperation, skipped her classes and curled up in the back of the library.
She didn't cry. She felt numb. Disoriented. She'd just been talking with him last night, and now…
Whispers abounded that he'd been murdered. Killed. Slain, whatever they wanted to call it. Had he been killed because of her? The thought ran through her head unbidden, yet the rational part of her knew she wasn't that important. He had been killed because of his work, because of his research…
What was being done with his research?
She had to know. Had to make sure it was safe, it was being protected, because otherwise she knew Morrible would destroy it the second she could, if she hadn't already. She pushed back from the table she'd set herself up at, collected the books she'd barely glanced at all morning. Made her way quietly out of the library, not even bothering to glance back. Elphaba clutched her books to her chest, kept her head down as she walked, nearly colliding with another student.
"Must you make it a habit to knock me off my feet?" a sharp voice said.
Elphaba looked up—well, down—at the figure sprawled before her. "I'm sorry, Boq," she said. "I'm… I don't know."
"It's dreadful about Dillamond," Boq said, not acknowledging her apology. She bent down to help him with his books, setting her own on the stone walkway, noticing how he wouldn't let his hand touch hers.
"I'm not made of poison, Master Boq," she said coldly. "I won't harm you through skin contact."
Boq looked her in the eyes. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "I got the distinct impression you didn't like to be touched."
Elphaba softened. "I… thank you. For respecting that." She handed him a book and his finger brushed hers as they stood, and she gathered her own, tucking them under one arm, and she even offered him a small smile.
"Are you… all right?" he finally ventured after what felt like ages. "You were close with Dillamond. And I know this won't alleviate it, but you know, my offer to get you into Briscoe still stands."
"It's odd, isn't it?" she said, not answering his question. "His death. Everyone is grieving and mourning like they knew him, but no one cares to find out how he died. Not really."
"You think he was killed, don't you?" Boq asked.
She wouldn't meet his gaze. "I need something from you," she said abruptly, lifting her head, and Boq saw in her eyes the same fire that had been burning previously. Her voice was tight, her refusal to give him a direct answer on anything a telltale sign, at least to Boq, if how upset she really was. "Please, Boq. Dillamond's research. I don't… I'm worried Morrible may destroy it, if she hasn't already."
"And you want me to get it," he said sourly. "Your debt to me keeps growing, Elphaba."
"Come now Boq, I'm asking as a friend," she said, not unkindly. "Hell and Oz, I'll arrange a private date between you and Miss Galinda if you wish. But I…" she swallowed. "I need your help. You wanted to be involved with his research? Now's your chance," she said.
She stepped back from him, allowed him his space. Boq watched her, the way her hand fidgeted at her side, how she wouldn't stand still.
"What makes you think you can fix it?" he asked her.
"Fix what?"
"What Dillamond was trying to fix. The Banns. The…" he swallowed, "the Wizard. All of it."
"I don't," she said simply. "But I owe it to Dillamond to try, don't I? We all do."
Boq nodded thoughtfully. For a second Elphaba was afraid he'd say no, leave her in the dust. But there was a gleam in his eye she'd seen the last time she mentioned Dillamond to him.
"I have some friends," Boq said slowly. "Crope and Tibbett. And that new prince, Fiyero? They'd be willing to help. Crops and Tibbett are exceptionally good at that sort of trickery, and Fiyero… well. If we need someone to handle to social graces side of things—something you aren't particularly well-versed in," he said, eyeing her.
"Do watch your tongue, Master Boq. I may not be a sorceress but I've been known to curse men who wrong me," she said, in a tone that made him unsure of whether or not she was joking.
He shifted nervously from foot to foot, unconsciously mirroring her movements. "After I gather the information… then what?"
"I need you to get me into Briscoe Hall. Or get the information in there for me, once we figure out what we need."
Boq nodded solemnly. "We're really doing this, then?"
"I suppose we must."
"And what of Miss Galinda?"
"What of her?" Elphaba snapped, perhaps too harshly. She felt heat crawling into her face and desperately wished Boq didn't see it.
"Won't she notice if you're disappearing all the time?"
Elphaba sighed and took her glasses off, polishing them as she stalled for time. "I don't think Miss Galinda really wants me around her at the moment," she said softly.
"You're not fighting again, are you? I thought the two of you were beyond that."
"I don't know what we are, Boq," she said.
Before he could stop himself, he reached out and touched her on the arm, almost affectionately. He recognized something of himself in Elphaba then, though he knew she'd deny it, a mirror of his own feelings.
"You don't have to introduce me to her if you don't want to, Elphaba," Boq said.
She looked at him, offering him a small smile. "No, I will. Even if as friends, since that's all she seems interested in at the moment."
Boq's hand left her arm, but she surprised herself then by reaching down and squeezing his hand.
"Meet tomorrow?" she asked. "Not at the student union; that'll be too crowded. I know a place. Bring Crope and Tibbett and Fiyero, if you wish. I'll talk to Galinda, I suppose, though I'd wish to keep her away from all of this."
"It may be a bit too late for that," Boq said.
Elphaba sucked in air through her teeth, but she didn't disagree. Didn't say anything.
"I'll see you tomorrow, then?" Boq asked. "At… wherever?"
"We'll meet here," Elphaba said. She hoisted her satchel higher up on her shoulder. "You can follow me. See you then, Boq," she said, and before he could say anything else, she turned on her heel and was gone.
Galinda was sitting at Elphaba's desk when Elphaba finally entered the room, sketchpad open, hands blackened with charcoal. She glanced up when Elphaba came through the door.
"Are you all right?" Galinda asked, pushing back from the desk and heading towards Elphaba, reaching out to her. Her hand brushed Elphaba's and Elphaba's instinct was to flinch at the contact, but she kept her ground, not wishing to hurt Galinda any further. "I heard about Doctor Dillamond."
"I'm fine," Elphaba said. Galinda frowned and bit her lip.
"Don't do that," she said softly. "Elphaba, please. We're still friends, aren't we?"
Elphaba nodded. "I'm sorry," she said, surprising herself. "For everything."
"For kissing me?" Galinda asked.
Elphaba took her hands. Glinda's hands were softer and fuller than hers, though still slender. Her nails were a pale pink, contrasting with the moss of Elphaba's own skin. Without a word, Glinda took her hands, brushed her lips across Elphaba's bony knuckles. The feeling sent warmth flooding through Elphaba, and she was surprised to find her eyes filling with tears.
"Not that," Elphaba said. "Never for that. I'm sorry… I'm sorry it can't work out, Galinda. Not now."
"Glinda," she said. "Just Glinda. For… for Doctor Dillamond. When he mispronounced my name at the Quells."
Elphaba smiled. "Glinda, then. I… Oz. I want you," she said fiercely. "I want to be with you, I—"
"But it's not safe," Glinda finished. "I know. Then… then let me help. With the cause. I know you can't do it alone."
"I'm not. Boq's offered to help."
"You trust him over me?"
"He's expendable," Elphaba said. "If… if something happened to you I couldn't live with myself."
Glinda breathed in, gripped Elphaba's hands.
"You can't stop me, Elphaba Thropp," she said, and when her eyes met Elphaba's they were a stormy blue, almost gray. "I'm not fragile, I'm not a little airheaded girl in need of protection. I'm as bothered by what's happening as you are, and I'm going to help you."
Elphaba sighed. She wanted to wrap the smaller girl in her arms, kiss her, shield her from every bad thing in Oz. But Glinda was right. She had changed. She was no longer the airheaded girl she had been when Elphaba first knew her. She was capable, and when it came to it, she was as stubborn as Elphaba herself.
"We're meeting Boq tomorrow, with some of his friends and formulating a plan."
Glinda nodded, pulling back from Elphaba and rewarding her with one of those rare, sincere smiles. "Then I guess I'd better plan my outfit now, yes?"
Elphaba found herself laughing, and Glinda joined in. Elphaba walked over to her bed, watched as Glinda made her way back to the desk.
"What're you drawing, Glinda?" Elphaba asked. "I didn't peg you for the art type."
"Didn't you? My makeup is its own form of art—colors and the like," Glinda said, turning back to her. "And I've been in the library, researching the architecture of the Emerald City. It's quite fascinating, the various pagan and Unionist influences. Look," she said, and held her sketchbook out to Elphaba.
Glinda's sketches were beautiful, smudged lines and a clear eye for detail Elphaba hadn't noticed before. She took the sketchbook from her roommate gingerly, careful not to disturb any of the drawing, staring at the rounded dome of the city's main library, the way Glinda had captured the motion of everyone outside.
"Do you like it?" Glinda asked, nervousness in her voice, like she was almost asking for Elphaba's approval.
"It's beautiful. I didn't know," Elphaba said.
"Yes, well, I suppose there's a lot we still don't know about each other," Glinda said.
And this time, the smile she fixed her roommate with was tinged with sadness, and Elphaba found herself wishing, again, that things could be different, that she could be with this smart, fierce, talented girl whom she loved.
But it was not meant to be.
