Disclaimer: I own nothing but the pillow I'm about to use.
A/N: I'm so sorry about the long blank, guys, but here's a new chapter. I love Cardboard to death for saving me with this chapter. Ha. Anyway, to tired to write anymore, so I hope you all enjoy.
Chapter 5
At first, Fiyero paused, as though he has to survey the situation, then swiftly retaliated and grabbed a green arm. "Elphaba, I can't let you just walk away."
"You could," Elphaba met his eyes, a slight deviation in her own, trying to make sense of how it felt so surreal. "It's about… obligation."
"No, it's not." The Winkie Prince dug his straw feet into the ground, trying to hold his own as Elphaba tugged at her arm. Physically, at least, he would not let her leave him. So long as he had the might, and it showed in his determined expression. "Between the both of us, so much has happened."
"And how much of anything have we been able to make a normal conversation?" retorted the green witch, regretting it immediately. She sighed tiredly, reminding herself that this was not about she and Fiyero; in fact, this had nothing to do with the straw man.
"You haven't been concentrating lately," Fiyero said defensively, and Elphaba struggled to leave again. "Elphaba- would you... listen to me a minute!"
The green witch attempted to shrug him off, taking a few small steps when an ominous ripping sound silenced both of them. Elphaba paused to turn, while Fiyero glanced down mournfully at his fallen limb, detached from his empty shoulder. It was oddly ironic to look at, the empty socket that once held an arm, torn at the stitching, once could not be deterred. Much like he could keep hold of Elphaba uncannily.
"Damn," he swore under his breath at last, reaching down with his other hand to pick up the pack of straw. "I'll have to re-sew it again."
Elphaba smiled weakly, succumbing to him by reaching out to clasp where his shoulder met the now detached arm. It was more of an apology, one that needn't be verbalized to be accepted. She began again, quieter, calmer.
"Fiyero, if you love me as much as you say," she said, devoid of guilt, though it was much to ask, "then you'll let me go."
"Let you go, as in, leave where we are now, or leave me?" He asked, giving the green witch a steady look.
"I suppose," she said, not truly answering the question. Fiyero glanced down at the limb supposed to be attached to his body, gripped in his free hand.
"I know," he started slowly, "that you care for Glinda. It happens. I care for her, too. You want nothing more than to save her, to speak to her again, and I wish her nothing but good things. But we made a pact, Elphaba, one out of love. That we couldn't return for reasons that were beyond us."
"Beyond us then, but this overrides what we were faced with," argued Elphaba stubbornly, almost childishly. "The Wizard is gone. And now this… wilderness," she indicated their surroundings. "You couldn't just stand around when it was me, Fiyero, try to understand."
"But as it stands, you need her more than she needs you."
Elphaba truly mulled over that theory, looked up at Fiyero to give him an intense look, one he misinterpreted as question, instead of searching. Perhaps his eyes would say more than his mouth, she figured. Instead, she found that his mouth said more, smiling slightly with his teeth. "I love you more than to just let you walk out to your death."
"Not necessarily to my death," she replied. "Into danger, but I'm willing enough. Fiyero, I know you love me, and I love you."
It was an incomplete sentence. She didn't know if Fiyero knew it, but her thin fingers left his shoulder affectionately one by one, like a ghost trying to leave behind a message. It wasn't exactly the most vulnerable state that Fiyero had, but his childhood suggested a way of persuasion for those who loved him. Elphaba found herself easily becoming jaded towards it, and ever since she had left… Well, Glinda was alone in the world. Of that she knew. She knew it well, because she felt the same.
The green witch pulled her lover into a tight hug, resting her pointed nose against his relaxed jaw. He smelt of straw, but the straw felt like flesh. "I won't leave you, Fiyero," she whispered in his ear softly. Not yet.
…………..
Elphaba sat up softly, her back protesting from the comfortable lying she was doing before. She had been waiting, unable to sleep, her lover snoring soundly beside her but providing no more consolation than before. She swung her legs over the bed, feet making contact with the cold, wooden floorboards. She willed the not to creak, Fiyero's calm expression remaining a signal of slumber.
She took slow, careful steps, aware of how sneakily she went. She back away enough so that if Fiyero were to awake, neither could see the other in the darkened room. Her eyes had been open for the better part of the night, never quite getting used to the black surroundings, but adapt enough to figure out what was where.
How she would get the Emerald City, Elphaba did not know. Getting to Oz as the primary problem for now, through forests and crowds of people, all knowing her face and abnormality. Getting past the guards was easy, a thieves trick, something she was used to by now, but the civilians would prove troublesome.
And then, there was handsome, wistful Fiyero, who would wake up the next morning to find he had been lied to, and would remain alone in this foreign place for the remainder of his life, unless he scuttled out from hiding, as well. The guilt, burdening and hollowing all at once, made Elphaba feel as though she hadn't any lungs.
Her stomach churned uncomfortably, as though she had yet to make up her mind. There were two things she had to choose between that made up the entirety of love in her life; the man who'd stolen her heart, or her best friend, who had brought so much to the green witch, and needed her more than ever. If this wasn't about what was right, then it was as she'd said that evening about obligation.
Her backpack was waiting for her, beckoning the green witch forth to go forth with her plans. This would hurt Fiyero, and in a sense, it felt as though she was leaving half of herself there. This had become her life, but so easily she had decided to slip away. Was it that she and Fiyero had simply lost the urgency that brought them together, or that she was antsy, and needed freedom? Or, was did it come down to Glinda, who, Elphaba figured, stole something from her before the Winkie Prince?
Did Elphaba want her heart back?
With that last thought, Elphaba quietly found her way out of the room, looking one last time at Fiyero, wanting nothing more then to lay a hand on his forehead, to observe his face and press her lips to his own, but that would only complicate the matter.
She dashed out of the house, tripping occasionally over bare roots of trees, potholes, and dirtying her boots with mounds of muck. Her stomach did twists and turns, protesting against her brain. It was not a reckless descent, so much as her nerves were reminding that this was unsafe – to be out in the pitch black night, welcoming moon concealed by vast trees interlocking their branches.
Figuring she had gone far enough, the green witch hiked up her skirt and leaned against a tree, sucking air into her lungs and attempting to calm her breathing. She closed her eyes and reviewed what she was to do, what words she had to take special care of while pronouncing in the spells…
The decision was hard, yes, and apart of her screamed of injustice, but it was far too late to turn back. Perhaps Fiyero had heard the door slam, and was searching for her. She loved him dearly, but was it with her heart? Was it still in Oz?
Opening her eyes to continue on, something came down on the side of her head. Vision swimming with different shades of black, the darkened sky shrouded by darkened pine green, her own skin color seeming grey and cold against the nighttime air. She couldn't see if anyone was there, watching as she almost decided to fall forwards, but it was so dark that Elphaba figured she might as well lose consciousness. Numbness spread through her body, and then, she did.
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