A/N: Booksical Gelphie again. This one's a bit of an angst parade, but emo seems to go very well with pink and green. Even though I don't own these characters, they beg for me to write about them, so read and review if you please.
XXXXX
She takes in the flecks of blood seeping into the scuffed floor, and what looks like a chipped piece of horn beneath Doctor Dillamond's desk. The room smells like vinegar, like the cleaning solution the Gale Force uses to keep bayonets shiny, and the scent makes Elphaba scowl in disgust.
Everything must have happened just like Morrible wanted. They stormed in, boots crashing, perhaps carrying a black bag and rope. Maybe they didn't even bother. They might have bashed his head once with the butt of a rifle, and no one in the halls would have bothered to report the sound of a breaking skull.
"Not heard," Elphaba says, crouching to pick up the scattered notes beneath her.
The papers have the Doctor's neat, tiny script written in rows across the page, detailing his latest research into a Crow from the Vinkus. The Crow had kindly volunteered to be the subject of his upcoming article Birdsong: A Scientific Interview with the Singing Crow of Herku. It contained a small story of the Crow's past with her parents, her turmoil at the death of her father, her popularity with the local children when she would sing to them. She was a young bird, unmarried, and fearful of the Wizard's new Animal laws. She wanted to see a change in the world before her own existence became a crime.
As Elphaba continues reading, she realizes that Dillamond had abandoned this particular experiment. The article became vague, almost an outline, as if the author had tried to piece together information from a secondhand source.
The words abruptly stop, and in slightly crooked letters he'd written "subject terminated" at the bottom of the page. There is only blankness beneath it.
The Crow is dead, she thinks.
And then she stores the packet of papers in her bag, trying to stop her shaking hands. Elphaba feels her chest constrict, locking up her throat, as she lets her body drop onto Dillamond's oak stool. She pushes her palms into her eyes and the tears drip down her wrists.
So many are dead.
She will never see her favorite professor again. There will be no more questions to ask, no notes to take, no jokes to tell when they're too tired to read the ancient texts in the dim lights of his laboratory.
Her flesh chills, and a racking gasp fills her lungs. Elphaba lays her braided head against his desk, wishing to be held against a warm body that could shush away her fears. She wishes Dillamond wouldn't die. She wishes she had stopped the guards from taking him, from killing him. She convinces herself that it was something she could've prevented.
A curse, she thinks. I'll cast a curse to stop their hearts. All of them will fall.
After a moment she clears her thoughts, pushing back her hasty violence with a sharp reprimand, knowing that one magical slip up like that would get her killed.
Elphaba doesn't like what she is becoming in Dillamond's destroyed classroom. She wants to be gentle; she wants to stop hating the brutal Gale Force guards. Elphaba hugs herself tighter, pretending someone else is there to comfort her in the darkness of the late night.
I have to get out of here.
The thought makes her rise. She wipes her eyes to return to her waiting bed, walking away from the graveyard room and moving toward the crackling fire she prays is warming the dormitory. Hopefully, Galin- Glinda will be awake, she says to herself. Hopefully, she'll want to hug me like earlier. Maybe she'll even be crying, too.
She's lost in her thoughts of Glinda, no longer the Crow and Dillamond, and it is enough to make the tears dry against her cheeks.
XXXX
The red apple on Elphaba's nightstand is turning blotchy and brown, but Glinda is afraid to throw it away, just in case Elphie wants to eat it when she comes back from wherever she is.
She wasn't in the library or the park. Not in her corner of the cafeteria, not at the wrought-iron bench by the canal. Even though the hours will soon slip past midnight, the blonde paces her shared room with a sense of uneasiness. Glinda had searched all of Elphaba's favorite spots and come up with nothing, and the room seems incomplete without Elphaba there reading or writing or commenting on something silly Glinda insists is true.
The rotten fruit sits atop a pile of books, next to one fragile scroll that Elphaba managed to procure from the depths of the valuable collections in the library basement.
Glinda chuckles, It's a wonder the girl can see at all with the amount she reads. The stem of the apple twists between her fingers, spinning slowly until she sets it down again.
Honestly, she's not sure why she wants her roommate to come back home. Glinda is still trying to convince herself that they don't really get along, and she should really be mad at Elphaba for pulling away so roughly when she hugged her this morning. But it doesn't matter.
She's just sad that Doctor Dillamond has mysteriously vanished and Elphaba misses him so much already that she'll probably go pick some flowers to put in his classroom because she's sweeter than anybody knows.
Of course, she shakes her head. Glinda grabs a jacket and dashes out the door.
It's cold outside, not bitterly so, but enough to keep people indoors. Glinda hears the echo of her footsteps against the sidewalk as she approaches the science building. It seems that Shiz is dead this late on a Tuesday night, and it makes her uncomfortable that Elphaba is still alone.
Her pace quickens when she suddenly realizes that she is alone too, prancing around campus like a fawn in a forest full of wolves. The air haunts across her face, but Glinda forces herself to remain calm. The last thing she needs is a panic attack in the middle of the school night when she's hunting for her green roommate around the classroom of her missing teacher.
Bundling herself tighter, Glinda wonders where Dillamond has gone. She knows he wasn't the kind of man- animal- Animal- that would run off for no good reason, but she is beginning to think his absence is forced. In the back of her mind, Glinda is afraid that Doctor Dillamond was kidnapped.
Her expression is taut, and she tries to ignore the sorrow she feels. She never liked his classes. She would doodle or talk or sleep during most of his lectures, and her last test grade had been far below average. On top of that, Dillamond was a goat- Goat- as Elphaba corrected her many times, and she had never been fond of staff members of the fur-variety at school.
Still, she'd changed her name in his honor. Because he could never pronounce it right, and now he was gone… or something far worse.
Even Glinda wouldn't deny that her name change had been a cheap ploy for attention and, above all, to be put in a good light with her peers. But when Elphaba removed that extra syllable for the first time, Glinda thought she'd made the right decision, even if it was for the wrong reason.
The clock tower peals loudly and Glinda jumps. The noise startles her back into the waking world, and she sees that the door of the science building is propped open slightly, as if someone is inside already. There are no lights on in Dillamond's second-story room, and a terror envelops Glinda's roaming mind.
What if someone is already in here with Elphie?
She rushes in headlong, cursing herself for taking so long to find her friend.
XXXXX
They collide in the doorframe between the stairs and hallway, and while Elphaba steadies herself with the handrail, Glinda catches the strap of her roomie's satchel, and they half-fall, half-sink into the tile wall. The girls land with a thud and several muffled moans.
They are side by side, not really touching, and it seems strange that they haven't started yelling at each other yet.
"Sorry I ran into you," says Glinda.
"I wasn't watching," says Elphaba at the same time.
They simultaneously reply, "Oh."
Silence comes between them again, and Glinda resettles into a more comfortable position, curling her legs up. She turns to face Elphaba and asks, "Were you in his classroom?"
"Yes," Elphaba says.
Her lips form a flat line, almost a frown, and Glinda says, "I'm sorry I tried to hug you earlier."
"I'm sorry I didn't let you."
Elphaba is staring straight ahead at the dirty wall, and she is praying her eyes aren't still bloodshot. The Crow notes are mostly on the floor again, and Glinda is reorganizing them now, putting Elphaba's bag back in order.
The blonde says, "Like I'd let you stop me."
Glinda smiles and Elphaba smiles, and they still aren't touching because the bag is between them. Elphaba asks lowly, "Did you come looking for me?"
"Yes," Glinda says.
Her blue eyes are truthful and open, and Elphaba feels a fragment of warmth return to her bones. She says, "Well, here I am." The words come out bitter and solitary. It isn't what she means, but that's how it sounds.
The bag is scooted away, and Glinda wraps her arms around Elphaba very tightly, whispering past her ear, "I hope he's all right, Elphie. Really I do."
Don't be naïve, Elphaba wants to say. He's dead. They've killed him. But no matter how hard she tries to spit out such venom, all she whispers back is "me too." Her arms circle around, and it feels nice to have someone touch her when so many others are disgusted by her skin. It might be the best hug Elphaba's ever received.
She clears her throat. "We should go home," the tall girl says. "It's late."
"It is. And it's cold, so put your hat on." Glinda stands up first, extending her tiny hand down to the seated Elphaba. As she pulls her up, she says, "Elphie, can we get some flowers tomorrow? We can put them on Doctor Dillamond's desk every day until he comes back."
Elphaba's hand tightens painfully around Glinda's for a second, but it loosens immediately after. She holds her hand like a lifeline.
"How about we just get him flowers for tomorrow? I don't think he'll… he wouldn't want us to waste flowers when he can't eat them." Elphaba forces a smile out, and Glinda hugs her again, much softer this time. She pulls back, but does not release Elphaba's hand, and starts the journey back to the dorm with her classmate in tow.
"Just for tomorrow then," Glinda says. "And speaking of food, you have a rotten apple on your nightstand that I just can't stand to look at anymore. Eat it or put it in the rubbish, Elphie. It's gross."
Elphaba laughs, "I was saving it for a still-life."
"Really?"
"No."
Glinda throws her hands into the air, still clutching the green girl's, and says, "I will break this arm off and use it as a wall decoration, Miss Elphaba. Mocking me with art jokes. Hmph!"
An icy breeze blows between them, a forceful reminder of the cold night.
Elphaba pulls her own cap down tighter, and wraps her black scarf around Glinda's neck. "I know it doesn't match," she says. "But wear it anyway. Your jacket is too light to cover anything."
The gesture makes Glinda warm, whether from the fabric or fingers against her skin she is unsure.
XXXXX
Elphaba has flown into a rage of the likes Glinda has never seen. She's not stoic, not reserved or clever anymore. Elphaba has thrown herself into the center of a firestorm, and she's screaming at the top of her lungs in the little room they share.
"Morrible, that bitch!" she roars. "I hate her, I'll kill her, I'll tear her head from her body!" Elphaba flips her book-laden nightstand. "She has no idea what I can do!"
A pillow is ripped in two. "How dare she speak of him that way? How DARE she?" She punches the wall, smashing her knuckles against the wooden post behind it. She wordlessly screams again.
Glinda is weeping, horrified. Her whole body is shaking.
Elphie could hurt herself, she thinks. Hurt me.
Like a mantra, Elphaba repeats, "I'll kill her." It sounds true to both of them.
Glinda's crying is transforming into a body-racking sob. She flies between Elphaba's tensed arms and pushes her quivering form to the witch. Her hands are wet with tears as she glides them across every part of her roommate she can reach. Elphaba could rip out her throat at this range, but Glinda closes the gap between them without hesitation.
"D-Don't, Elphie, please. You're scaring me, please, don't."
Their hearts thunder together, broken only by Glinda's sniffling. A deep breath is released, and Elphaba tilts her head to the ceiling. She speaks straight up.
"I hate her, Glinda."
The smaller girl nods, brushing her cheek against Elphaba's neck. "I hate her, too."
It takes a moment for Glinda to realize that she is not the only one crying, and Elphaba, who always seems to be on a higher plane of thought, is suddenly not detached from her surroundings. She misses her teacher, her friend, and she hates to hear him slandered by people unworthy to clean his hooves.
She looks down, hugging Glinda tighter, resting her head on the purple bow in her roommate's hair. Her tiny shudders run through both of them.
Elphaba takes hold of Glinda's chin, giving her a kiss that lets their lips linger together. It is her first kiss, and she has no idea how she can feel like dancing and dying at the same time.
"I scare you," Elphaba murmurs breathlessly. Glinda kisses her back harder, gripping her clothes and trying not to cry again.
Her pink lip gloss looks like a stain on Elphaba's mouth, far too slick and foreign to ever belong on an untainted surface. "Only when you're sad," says Glinda when she looks up. She wipes the fallen tears away very slowly.
"Would you miss me like this if I left?" she asks the green girl.
It is an unexpected question, but Elphaba answers, "Yes, only more." She furrows her brow, as if surprised by her own response.
When Glinda kisses her again, she can't help but let another tear fall against her porcelain skin. Elphaba thinks she would miss her terribly.
XXXXX
They lay lilies on his desk just once, and it feels to them like a funeral should feel.
Elphaba says no words, none are needed, and Glinda takes her hand at some point during the ringing silence. Tomorrow they will go to the Emerald City.
In several hours time they will part ways, one flying off into the sunset and one mournfully descending a stone staircase with the guards of the palace. They will both cry until there is not a drop of spare liquid in their eyes, puffy from stress and lack of sleep.
Glinda will return to Shiz with half-hearted answers and long nights of wishing. When she pulls her roommate's pillow to her body she will not find any comfort in the cotton. Her tailored life is set now, all obstacles have been removed, but she wants no part of her new, fake world.
Elphaba will hear the rumors, the lies, the hateful screams that follow her, and she will wonder how many of them are true. Her shoulders will tense when she reads of the Emerald City, and she will bite her cheek until it bleeds when she learns that Glinda has returned to the Wizard.
But for now they look at Dillamond's lilies, hand in hand, and say nothing.
XXXXX