AN: I know, a really BAD time to leave you guys hanging, of course. But this chapter was difficult, though I wrote it about a week ago. My two pre-readers (IAmTheWitch) and (elphabareincarnated) read it, but IAmTheWitch is quite busy and she wasn't able to until recently, and for this chapter, especially, I wanted her approval. And the next. Yes, two chapters posted. And still we don't know about certain people's lives. But you'll get to that... I'm sorry, guys, I don't know when I'll be able to post next. I've got a summer program where I'm living in a dorm for the next two weeks, and I don't know about internet access, though I will have this computer. With the questionable internet access, and my dire need for my two pre-readers to approve, updates for this may come slowly. I'm sorry.

Chapter Forty-Five: Unanswered

She fixed the popped button on her blouse so it didn't show before stepping into the Palace. It was almost dinnertime; she could smell something cooking, something like pasta. Shaking her head, she snapped out of her hungry mind-set and realized there were other, more important things to be thinking about. Heading to the stairs, she passed the living room, and Fiyero's parents.

"Where's Fiyero?" She asked quietly.

"Oh, there you are! He went out about an hour ago and came home within fifteen minutes, not looking too good. He said he was going to lie down and that it was best he didn't come for you at the schoolhouse today, anyway, because you two had some sort of tiff this morning… or something?" Fiyero's mother waved her arms, not really sure what was going on. "He said to send someone up for him when it was time for dinner."

Elphaba closed her eyes and opened them again, slowly, bringing the room into focus. "Okay."

"Are you all right? Do you need to talk?"

"I'm fine, thank you. I'll just go upstairs now." The only thoughts running through her head were prayers begging Kumbricia that it was nothing more than what Fiyero's mother had said. Somehow, she sensed there was more to it than that. When she stepped into the bedroom, she knew. "Fiyero?"

He looked like he was asleep, and the empty bottle of sleeping drought on the bedside table should only serve as proof. But he'd gotten that from their medicine cabinet, and she knew it was only a few spoonfuls for twelve hours. She tore the covers from the bed and shook him, voice finally breaking with fear.

"Fiyero, damn it!" She fought back dread and checked his pulse. It was faint, but still there. But for how long? With no other ideas, Elphaba rushed to the doorway, called out for his parents and servants and backed away against the desk.

In the resulting commotion, she didn't have time to think. There was a doctor who traveled around to the three tribes throughout the year, and he was headed from the Arjiki to the Scrow, having taken off with his apprentice early that afternoon. A servant could've been sent after him, but Elphaba needed to do something, so she went. As soon as the man heard it was the Crown Prince, he turned around, grabbing a few supplies and leaving his apprentice to bring the rest on the wagon.

They took him out of the bedroom and into the sick room downstairs. Elphaba paced outside the doors as Fiyero's parents sat nervously. She couldn't sit still, then she'd have to think, and that was too much. When the doctor came out, they were told he had overdosed on sleeping draught and that the doctor had gotten as much of it out of his system as possible. Fiyero was still unconscious. He would either wake in a matter of a few days like from a deep sleep, or he would never wake, and die from lack of water and food. Elphaba was not yet allowed in.

She returned to the bedroom, finally deciding she had to allow herself the time for thought. Had he seen something? He hadn't stayed to watch, no. Because then at least he would've seen her stop everything, and she knew, hopeless romantic that Fiyero could be, seeing her stop herself from being unfaithful would at least have given him hope that he could make things better. So, if he had seen, he hadn't stayed. Well, who could blame him? Why in Oz would he want to stay? But why didn't he come in? Say something? Maybe he hadn't been there… she didn't know, and trembled at the thought that she may never know.

Impulsively, she rushed to the desk, finding that something had changed in the room in the past hours. She couldn't name it all, but there were definitely several things missing: from her small, almost untouched emergency sewing kit, the scissors and needles were gone. Slamming the first drawer shut, she opened another, rummaging through it to again find missing items: the somewhat pointy glass paperweight she kept, her secret stash of extra headache pills.

"I did it myself. I didn't want the servants going through your things; I thought it might be easier if I did it myself. Then again, I do wish I'd left a servant to go through the bedside table." Fiyero's mother was in the doorway, biting her lip. "You act like you're much stronger than him, like you need less than him, but I see you with him, sometimes. You need him just as much as he needs you. And I thought it possible you'd resort to…"

"What?" Elphaba turned to the woman, eyes wide. "I am not stupid."

"Are you saying Fiyero is?"

She looked at the ground. "No, he may have had different reasons."

"Did he?" The woman stepped into the room and closed the door carefully. "I can't understand this. But what I do know is that he's attached to you, so something there had to go wrong."

Elphaba shuddered. "We had a fight this morning. He said something and I reacted badly, probably overreacted. What he said made me feel guilty, and I hated that. I never thought that he'd do this."

"There's got to be more than that," Fiyero's mother pressed, "if you had the fight this morning, why did he do it in the late afternoon?"

She wasn't going to explain the rest of her day; after all, she couldn't be sure he'd seen or heard or anything. "I don't know. But I know what you mean, and I probably did cause this. It's my fault," she said softly, "and I am so sorry." It had to be. She was guilty for this, which could kill him, and she knew, in turn, kill something of her, if not all, too. Elphaba choked on a sob. "I don't want to lose him."

"Shhh," Fiyero's mother wrapped Elphaba in her arms, whispering to her like a child. "It's okay. I don't blame you. Shhh."

But you should blame me. Everything is my fault. This is all me. "I don't know what to do with myself," she admitted through tears.

"In a few minutes, you can go see him. There's an extra cot in the sickroom so you can sleep in there and be the first one to know if he wakes up. The doctor's gone. He said he'd done all he could and the rest would happen without him the same way it would happen if he stayed. Just promise me, if… when he wakes up, you'll tell us right away."

"I will. Thank you." She knew Fiyero's mother or father could've taken the cot and not allowed her to be alone in the room with him. This was almost too much; it was her fault, she was to blame, after all. "I'm sorry."

"Don't keep saying that." The woman clutched Elphaba's hands. "Are you sure you don't know what happened? Why he'd do this? He didn't leave some sort of note?"

Elphaba shook her head. "He's not the type to leave a note; he's too rash to do that. When he did this, he was already too caught up in something to think about writing notes or anything or anyone else."

"Except you."

"I didn't mean to… I love him… I'm so sorry."

"I told you not to keep saying that. I told you I don't think it was your fault, I'm only asking because I just want to know why he'd do this."

"So do I." Elphaba said softly.

She didn't sleep that night, in the sickroom. It wasn't that the cot was uncomfortable. For a few precious minutes, she thought she might be drifting off, but she kept rolling over, falling off, leaning into things… or arms… that weren't there. Could it be that she was just as pathetic as he was? Was she really unable to sleep without him beside her, too? In the end, she'd crawled into the bed that his unconscious form was lying in, knowing she could do no harm since it was as if he was sleeping, and wrapped her arms around him, tears flowing freely, but no sobs coming. "I love you and I'm sorry. Please don't do this. I can't lose you. I never meant anything hurtful I said or did. I do love you as much as I said, I'm just afraid."

Once, he'd said that she'd never know the anguish he'd gone through when she had been so incredibly ill. Now she did. And she was starting to understand why he didn't want to let her go after it, too. But it may well be too late for understanding.

In the morning, she heard voices outside the door. She got up, gently kissing Fiyero's cheek and checking his pulse to assure he hadn't gotten worse, and moved towards the door.

"We very well can't send her home! They invited her out here, and by the time all of this happened, there wasn't a way to tell her not to come out. She was already on her way. Besides, maybe she'll be of some help, comfort-wise." It was Fiyero's mother.

"If you insist. So, do we tell the girl?" Fiyero's father's deep voice rumbled.

"Would you stop calling her that? She is married to our son; she is not a girl; she is a woman as much as I am. And yes, of course we tell her."

Elphaba rushed back to the cot and pretended to be half-asleep as the doorknob opened.

"Elphaba, honey?"

No way in Oz would I ever put up with being called "honey" in any other circumstance, she thought. Blinking and moving as if wiping sleep from her eyes, she murmured, "What?"

"You're friend is here. The one you and Fiyero invited out for the summer. I think it's best if she stayed. We'll stay in here for a few minutes while you go greet her and help her get settled."

Elphaba nodded and left the room. The familiar sight of blonde curls did not ease her pain, but merely brought her to tears again.

"Elphie?" Glinda stood there, being hugged quite fiercely by Elphaba, which was a change, more than a little confused. "What's wrong? Elphie, what's going on? Everything's so quiet around here."

Elphaba opened her mouth, and almost repeated that she was sorry, but she didn't think that was the right thing. "I… Fiyero… Come on, I'll explain it to you as you unpack," she decided, gathering her wits slightly.

"Um, okay."

On their way up the stairs, Elphaba turned around once and said, "You'll never know how happy I am to see you."