A/N - It's been hot. I got sick again. My sister's been a whore...blah blah blah. All the usual pathetic excuses. But ah-ha! I'm back. And I don't quite know where this is going...
Disclaimer: Not mine. Duh. And I quoted Gene Pitney, too. Brownie points to anyone who can find where!
A million words, a thousand days….
How long had he been here? He wasn't sure he wanted to know -- he would only be devastated by the answer. What had become of his wife? his kids? Elphaba? Fiyero's thoughts were disturbed as a wave of painful nausea seared through his stomach. He estimated that it had been near three days since he had had a lick of food. Actually, now that he thought about it, it had been nearly that long since he'd seen any living soul at all.
It was quiet here now. The room was too dark to see, so Fiyero wasn't sure if the prison had other inhabitants. He wasn't even sure if he cared. He'd been here for so long, he couldn't even tell if he still had his eyesight or whether he would be completely blind. The only thing the 'prince' knew was the smell of rotting flesh and molding gruel. This was prison. This was life.
Candles were lit down the way, and Fiyero groaned as purple spots clouded his vision. He heard his cell door clang open and a pair of rough hands grabbed Fiyero's shoulders. He tried to resist, of course, through reflex, but he was too weak….
As always, he woke as he was just being pushed out into the aisle between the lines of cells. His eyes opened wide, once again filled with tears. It was a strange feeling, waking up and having tears staining his face. It had never happened before -- at least, not before he had been to prison.
Fiyero could never remember what happened after that. Maybe it was a blessing, maybe it was something that would come back to haunt him, like it was doing now. He had blacked out, and a secret part of him, in the depths of his mind, he wanted to know. He had never known what it was like to wake up, crying for no reason, not able to remember something that may just be his lifeline. Why did everything in Oz have to be so fucked up?
Looking around, he again realized where he was. He smiled. He was with Elphaba. Fiyero clutched her thin frame against him, wanting the warmth of her body pressed against his. He breathed her scent in, realizing that he was safe now. It was almost hard to believe that his life could change so quick. It was always her who did it, too. Always her.
She groaned and stretched like a cat. "Go back to sleep, Yero," she murmured. "It's too damn early." Elphaba rolled over, but then rolled back, curling back up into Fiyero's arms. "This feels nice, though."
"I know," he said tiredly.
"How come you're so tired? We've slept at least half the day."
"This coming from the woman who told me that it was too damn early and to go back to bed," Fiyero replied, laughing. "But really, I keep having incredibly strange dreams. Nightmares, maybe. How do we even tell the difference?"
"Nightmares are terrifying dreams; dreams in which our worst fears are brought to life in fully convincing detail. Whatever horrors you personally believe to be the worst things that could happen—these are the most likely subjects of your nightmares. All people, in every age and culture have suffered from these terrors of the night. People's understanding of the origins of nightmares has varied as much as their understanding of dreams. To some cultures, nightmares were the true experiences of the soul as it wandered another world as the body slept. To others, they were the result of the visitation of demons. Of course, Fiyero," replied Elphaba, matter-of-factly.
Fiyero groaned and threw his head down. "And what makes you the master of dreams, Fae? Hmm?"
"I used to study them a lot, Yero. I studied philosophy, politics, and everything else. Why not psychology and dreams, too?" Elphaba replied, sitting up. "Tell me about it. I want to psychoanalyze it."
"How old are we?" he asked uncomfortably. "You're acting like an eighteen-year-old. Really."
"Oh, no I'm not. I'm naked, remember?" She blushed and went to cover herself up.
Same old Elphaba. Afraid to show herself in front of him. He almost didn't understand her discomfort. He loved her, and she thought she was beautiful -- no matter what she or anyone else said. She was Elphaba and that was all that really mattered to him. He was disappointed that she still didn't trust him enough.
"So, tell me. Come on. I want to know."
He groaned. He didn't want to tell her. Because then she'd ask about prison. And about how he escaped. She'd wanted to know earlier, she'd want to know now. "Elphaba, please--"
"What? You don't trust me enough? Look, Yero my hero, you're an idiot and I love you, but you're incredibly difficult to deal with at times. Times like these, actually. You're calling me immature, but you don't want to tell me your nightmare slash dream? What, were you being chased by a cupcake or some other exceedingly terrifying baked good?"
There was a moment of silence, and Elphaba bit her lip. "It's funny how that now, after I'm dead, I can admit that I overreact, that I'm too demanding. You know, if you think about it, we have it all. I have no reason to be demanding. It's pathetic that now I can do and say things that I never could when I was alive. What a fool I am. I'm so incredibly different now…." she looked away.
"I know." Fiyero pulled her into him.
Elphaba didn't answer him. Whether she hadn't heard him, lost in her own thoughts, or maybe she had no answer.
"When do we leave?" she asked after a moment, quietly. "I've never realized how much I've needed to get out of this shit-hole. Well, everyone needs to get out of this shit-hole -- it has negative moral value."
"That's incredibly kind of you to say so, Fae-Fae."
"Fiyero, are you going to tell me, or not?"
"Tell you what?" He was only playing dumb now.
She glared at him. "You know." Then softer, "Nightmares are always caused by something, whether you know it or not. People experience nightmares after they have suffered a traumatic event, Yero my hero…" Elphaba let the sentence hang in the air.
"I know that, Elphaba. Fine. You really want to know?"
"I asked, didn't I?"
"Yes. Alright then. I keep…remembering. Remembering…prison. Through dreams, or nightmares, or whatever! I'm always sitting in this…prison cell. I'm always hungry, and I can always smell the stench of rotting flesh and the molding 'food' we had. I keep asking myself all of these questions, I'm going crazy or something, and then these candles are lit and somebody roughly grabs me and pushes me out into the hall. And then….I don't remember anymore. I guess I blacked out. But when I don't wake up at the part, I'm always back where I started. Hungry, alone, and completely confused." He paused. "I want to remember. I need to remember."
"Why would you want to?" Elphaba asked quietly.
"I don't know why! That's the problem!" Fiyero quickly pulled on his clothes and walked over to the big window. Looking out, he sighed. "I need out of here, too. It's amazing what Oz can do to you."
"Oh, how kind of you to say so."
"You said it yourself: it does stuff to people. Just look at the Wizard--"
Elphaba cut him off. "I can't, he's gone. Remember?"
Fiyero looked at her. "Oh, thanks for that news flash. But, what I meant was: he must've been normalish when he first came here, right? Well, right. But I'll be damned if he's not dead by now. Probably a morphine addict or something. Pain killers for the pain causers. That's the way it works," he concluded.
"Karma doesn't exist. Never has. It's just a sick joke played on all of us weirdos. Well, weirdos like me anyway."
"Tonight," Fiyero said, suddenly.
"Tonight, what?"
"Tonight we leave! Of course, Fae-Fae."
"Why can't we just pack our shit up and leave now? I don't even have that much shit. I could be packed in five minutes. Tops." Elphaba smiled weakly, then frowned. "Ew."
"We can't leave now, it's broad daylight. We'll be beheaded and eaten by a bunch of barbarians."
Elphaba went and stood next to Fiyero, trying to study what he was studying. "As if we aren't walking contradictions enough. Damn." Elphaba turned around and looked around her makeshift kitchen. "Are you hungry?" she asked.
"No," Fiyero muttered.
"Good, because I don't have any food."
He gave her a funny look. "Then why'd you ask?"
Elphaba shrugged. "I didn't want to be rude." She gave a funny look around. "I don't want to be rude? What the hell is that about?"
"I have no idea, but it's strange. Stop it."
"Don't worry about that, Fiyero. But--"
"But, what?"
"Yero…..What happened while you were supposedly dead? I want to know. I need to know."
"I knew you'd ask. I just knew you would."
"Then why'd you try to hide it?" she asked.
"I don't know. A vain attempt to hide it from myself. It's just…Argh, I don't know. Look, it was no accident….The Gale Force wanted you, no doubt, but I got in their way, I think. I don't think they were planning on finding me -- much less anyone else -- there. I don't think they wanted to kill me. Even when the Wiz's superiority complex, killing me would have been a crime. I don't quite remember what happened then, really, except for an excruciating headache and…blood. I woke up in a cell."
"They didn't want to kill you? I would've expected him to kill you the moment he found out about…Oh, never mind. Go on." Elphaba waved him on.
"It was like….being in a coma. I can very little of my life there. It's nothing but a daze -- or maybe that's just what it feels like after a million days of sitting in a dark cell and wondering whether or not you'll 'eat' that day. It's tiresome after a while, so maybe I blocked it out of my mind…."
"Well, remember!" Elphaba cried.
Fiyero closed his eyes and thought. This time, though, he wanted to remember.
A door slammed at the end of the hall and Fiyero's body tensed up. It was always hard to tell what would be coming. He only hoped it wasn't a whipping again. He ran his fingers lightly over his back, his tender skin tingling and burning at his touch. Anything but a whipping.
It wasn't a whipping. Fiyero heard the cell door next to his creak open, and a thump as something hit one of the walls…and then a groan. A groan! So he wasn't alone. Candles hadn't been lit, so he couldn't tell for sure whether it was a man or woman, but the soft, muffling crying sounds made it seem like a woman. Either that or Fiyero was just sexually deprived.
Standing, Fiyero could feel his muscles protest and heard his bones crack into their predetermined shape. "Hello," he said. "Is anyone there?"
"Yes," came a muffled, pitiful voice. A woman's voice.
"Finally."
"Oh, finally, maybe," the woman said, her voice raising with anger, "but not for long."
"Not for long? You're really going to attempt to break out of here?" Fiyero laughed, his voice cracking, too. "That's a daft idea, lady. I can't tell you how many people I've heard being murdered here. There's surveillance everywhere."
"I don't need you telling me whether my ideas are wise or not. I'm here, aren't I? I might as well be dead. Agreed?" she asked.
Fiyero thought a moment, then reluctantly said, "Agreed."
He could feel her smiling. I can feel her smiling? What the fuck? It's true, though! She's smiling. I don't like her smiling. But she's right. I'd rather be dead than spend another day in this hell. Or would I? Elphaba may already be dead, you dot! But what if she isn't? What if she's waiting for you? Elphaba waits for no one! Fiyero shook his head, trying to stop his mental arguing.
"How long you been here, hun? I'll count you as a alumni if ya been here long enough."
She was still smiling.
"I have no idea, lady. It's dark. There's no sun."
"Oh, come now, don't tell me that your internal clock has gone all screwy. Ya can't be but so old."
Fiyero's frowned deepend. "I don't even know how old I am."
The woman in the next to his sounded surprised. "That long, huh? Such a pity."
"You're telling me? I don't need your pity," Fiyero scoffed.
"Oh, you don't? When these little minds tear you in two, what a town without pity can do," she stated.
"Maybe so. But it's too late for pity. At least for me."
"Nah, it's never too late for pity. You, sonny, just count on my as your way out."
He could feel her smiling again -- it was a chilling feeling that started in his teeth and went all the way down to his feet. Fiyero wanted to trust her; mainly because he wanted out, he wanted out so badly, but she didn't sound like….Oh, hell, who was he kidding? Take everything you can get, trust no one to get it for you. He was going to find a way out. With her help or not…..
Fiyero opened his eyes when Elphaba laid her hand on his shoulder. "You alright?" she asked. "You look kind of pale. Which is weird."
"I'm fine. Really. I'm fine," he said, more of an assurance to himself than her.
"You sure? I may still have some hard liquor in the cabinet…" she offered.
"I'm fine."
Fiyero looked off into the distance, towards to palace, where he had been kept in incarceration. He sighed. He needed out, even more so than Elphaba. It was almost unhealthy to stay here. He didn't want to do anymore remembering. He didn't want anymore dreams.
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