Chapter 16.

A/N I really am sorry. I have, unfortunately, started working on my dissertation and that must, in the end, come first. I will try to make it up to you by posting the next chapter Sunday at the latest, but I better not make any promises.

To the reviewers: THANK YOU!

It was the first thing that had entered her mind when she'd felt that stupid, stupid, damned bullet hit her.

That he was in that cabin, waiting for her. And if she didn't go back, if she died, that he would never know...where she was, what had happened, that she loved him too.

That she wanted to belong with him, even if she still didn't believe she did.

That she belonged to him, though, and always would.

If the soldier boy thought he was going to win this, he was in for a surprise, Glinda thought, as she took a seat in the windowsill and stared at him. He knew things that she didn't and damned if she was going let it stay that way.

What he knew wouldn't hurt her. It didn't have that power any more. She'd lost. She already knew that. But it was her own fault for staying in a game with a losing hand. She should have left the table years ago. She'd stayed. And now she had finally paid the price.

Her (officially still but not really so therefore ex-)boyfriend, ex-soon to be fiance, was now, more than likely, where he'd wanted to be for years: in the arms of her former (but not really because she'd never allow for that to change so therefore current) best friend.

She noticed with a small surge of surprise that she didn't have to fight nausea at that thought, that her head didn't hurt either and that no tears welled up. It was done. It had been over years ago, but both of them, all of them, had lacked the courage to acknowledge it. She didn't have that problem any longer. It was what it was. She'd known, she'd seen it with her own eyes all those years ago; They belonged together.

Fiyero and Elphaba.

And she could be angry about it. She supposed she had the right to be. He'd stayed with her, he'd never told her the truth about how he felt. He'd lied. So yes, she should probably be angry. Furious. But she'd felt all that anger and resentment years before, and she simply couldn't find it in her now. And she knew he hadn't meant to deceive her. He hadn't meant to hurt her. He'd simply been...lost. He'd been lost without Elphaba and as much as she had hoped, had kept hoping, that she could get him back on the right path. As much as she had hoped that one day she would be enough... She couldn't and she wouldn't be.

He'd loved her. She didn't doubt that.

He just hadn't loved her enough.

He loved Elphaba more. That hurt, but there was no anger. There was no point to it and it wouldn't be fair. Because as much as it stung, even now, that he loved Elphaba more than her, she also had to acknowledge that Elphaba loved him more than she did. She'd hoped to marry him. She'd wanted to be with him. She loved him. But not enough to risk it all. Not enough to give up everything else. So, it was easier than she'd thought. After three days of wanting to throw plates at the wall, she knew it was better this way.

So no, there was no anger.

Which was a good thing, because she couldn't exactly do anything about it. She couldn't take it out on them; They were nowhere to be found. She couldn't tell anyone about it, because nobody knew the truth and nobody was supposed to. And nothing would change.

They simply belonged together. Even after all these years. If he had searched this relentlessly for this long...If she had let him find her... if both had been willing to risk everything...Then they belonged together.

That wouldn't change. Whether they were arrested today and hanged tomorrow, or living on the run together, or even if they lived a picket-fence life somewhere with kids and a puppy.

It wouldn't change anything. It didn't matter.

And if it didn't matter, then all that mattered was that they were alive and safe.

So, here she was. In the room with the young soldier that had lied to them all. Here she was, to make sure he would keep doing just that. Except to her, of course.

She was Glinda the friggin' Good.

She would make Good.

And she would start by intimidating soldier boy here into telling her the truth.

She'd managed to stay on her broom, because they'd only managed to shoot her once, and it was in the leg. So, the flying part wasn't really the issue.

The issue was that she had needed to get back to the cabin but couldn't run the risk of giving anything away. She'd had to land and make her way on foot, as she always did. Which really was a bit of an issue, since the idiots had shot her in the leg. Frustration, anger and residual grief over everything she'd lost ,or had never had, at Colwen Grounds had built up inside of her and by the time she'd gotten back to the cabin (and no, it was not anything remotely close to a home) it was all she could do not to shout, swear, cry and collapse. She couldn't. She was here. She'd made it.

Now, she needed to get into the bathroom. She needed to see how bad it was before Fiyero could see it. He'd probably panic and make a big fuss next time she wanted to anywhere alone. He'd never let her go without him.

The damned fool cared about her and it did no one any damned favors.

She smashed through the front door, ignored his relieved exclamation of her name and stumbled into the bathroom, locking the door behind her as well as she could.

She fumbled with the buttons of her dress but managed to unhook enough off them to wriggle the thing down to her waist, after which she let herself sink, stumble, fall to the floor.

How bad could it be, really? It hurt like hell, but she'd been hurt before. It would need healing, but she'd always healed before. This one might take longer, though. She wasn't sure. She'd never actually been shot. She'd been shot at more times than she could count, but she'd never been hit. That's what she got for being so stupidly distracted! Why on earth, why, did she ever think it was a good idea that Fiyero come with her? Why hadn't she sent him straight back to his cushy palace?

Why?

This is what she got, dammit, for not doing what she should have done.

Oz-dammit!

Unfortunately being able to do magic didn't mean that a healing spell could cure every and all ailments. Spells demanded focus and energy and she was too drained to pull it off. Besides, she'd be unconscious for hours afterward and she had a feeling that the man on the other side of the door would not take kindly to being kept outside for hours. He'd barge in and see her unconscious and panic.

Damned fool.

Alright. She ripped the side of her slip and hissed as she gingerly touched the edges of the wound.

Time to get down to business.

She winced as she got up on her good knee to search for something she could use to get the bullet out. Then, she'd clean it and bandage it and...and...and Fiyero... was saying something. Yelling at her through the door. Or, at least, she thought he might be yelling, but she couldn't hear him very clearly. She could hear his voice, though, like a murmur in the background, as all thoughts faded and darkness took over.

Where was she?

Scratch that.

He knew where she was now. The more pressing question was why wasn't she coming out of the bathroom? She was hurt, he'd seen that much before she'd slammed the door in his face.

"Elphaba?"

She didn't answer. In Oz name...how could one woman be that stubborn? What was she willing to do to avoid him?

"Elphaba? Please just come out. I need to at least see you're okay."

Still no answer.

"Alright. I'm giving you one chance to show me you're okay before I remove this door."

He struggled to keep his voice light and even. Anything too dramatic would only work against him.

"Elphaba? I'm seconds away from breaking down this door, Miss Thropp. You've left me no choice, so if you don't want me to invade your bathroom privacy, open the door."

He didn't bother to give her a chance.

It didn't take much more than a push to open the door, and one glance was enough to see she'd been hurt much more than she'd let on.

She was on the floor, her dress at her feet, clad only in her slip, that she'd ripped apart at the side to reveal a wound.

A gun shot wound.

His eyes widened and for a moment he swore he could feel his heart stop.

She'd been shot. Shot.

He ran and slid down the floor in a ridiculous stumble, as he grabbed her wrist to check her heart-rate and turned her face towards his. She was unconscious. That was for the better, probably. He picked her up and marveled at the lack of weight.

He put her on the bed and went to work.

Being a Prince of the Arjiki, a trained hunter and a soldier in the Gale Force meant, thank Oz, that he knew if , when and how to retract bullets and dress wounds. However, he did need supplies for that. Which he had no clue where to find and he was damned if her left her alone for even a second. She didn't seem hurt anywhere else and this wound wasn't fatal, but it was enough to hurt like the blazes when she woke up and any wound needed to be cleaned to prevent infections.

She stirred, her eyes opening. She looked at him, past him really, and gazed up at him through troubled and heavy-lidded eyes.

"Fiyero..."

He tried to smile at her, but he couldn't make it convincing. He wanted to tell her a million things, but he couldn't find the words.

"Fiyero. I should..."

"What?" She didn't respond. "Elphaba! Tell me what."

But she was gone again.

He sighed. Whatever she had to say could wait. She needed to heal first. He took a breath and grabbed the scissors to cut open her slip. She might kill him for this later, but at least she'd be healthy enough to do so.

A few hours later, Elphaba had gone from unconsciousness to sleep and Fiyero was exhausted. He'd done all that he was able to do, but he knew it wasn't likely to be enough. It was only in the leg, so it wouldn't kill her, but only if she would recover from it without any complications. Complications such as infections. Complications such as lack of sleep, food, medicine. And complications such as the victim of the gunshot being the absolute most stubborn person on the planet.

She wouldn't listen. She never did. They couldn't go to a hospital, due to very obvious reasons and there was no way he'd go out now to find the supplies they'd need. He was not going to leave her. Even if he would have been prepared to do that, he had not one inkling of where to go.

They needed help, but he knew she wouldn't allow him to go get any. Again, not that he knew where to go.

Except for Glinda. He'd be willing to try that, he'd be willing to try anything. But that would mean getting into the palace unseen, and, again, he was not willing to leave her side. And, he kept telling himself, maybe it wouldn't be necessary. Maybe, she'd be fine. She'd rest and eat and recover and be back to her infuriating, wonderful, beautiful, vibrant self. He kept telling himself that, as he leaned his head back against the wall and felt his eyes drifting closed.

It was still dark. One would think that, after so much darkness, opening one's eyes would bring light. Clarity. Something.

There was nothing. Only blackness.

Oh.

She didn't actually have her eyes open.

Her head hurt though and her throat was dry. She was cold, too and her leg throbbed. Why was her leg throbbing? And why was she so cold?

She opened her eyes, for real this time, and tried to glance down without moving. She wasn't wearing her dress and her slip was cut nearly in half. That would explain why she was cold.

So why did her leg throb?

Oh.

Right.

That.

She'd been shot.

Stupid Gale Force.

She frowned, or tried to, but found it pulled at her hair and that made her head hurt more.

Sweet Lurline, what had happened to her? If this was what gunshot wounds did, she was definitely never getting shot again.

She rolled her head slightly to the side, and found Fiyero sprawled a chair across the room, his legs spread out in front of him, his head lolled to the side. He was sleeping, or he looked to be, but his jaws were locked and his brow was furrowed and he looked paler than she'd ever seen him. He didn't look relaxed at all. This wasn't how he usually slept. For a tiny second then, she marveled at the fact that she could now say that. Because she knew what he looked like when he slept. Because she'd been sleeping beside him every night. Her heart jumped a little, and that made her head hurt too, but this time the pain made her smile.

Oz, she was home.

Fiyero.

"I love you."

She says the words out loud and the moment they leave her mouth, she wants to take them back. She shuts her eyes for a moment of undiluted panic and opens them again. She looks at him and his eyes are open now too, wide open, and though he'd been asleep, seemed asleep, moments before, he is definitely awake now.

He doesn't say anything though. Doesn't question her or ask her to repeat it.

"I love you too."

She smiles and looks down. It's incredible, what four little words can do.

She glances up again and he's still staring at her. It makes her want to hide. He's got so much power over her now.

He's always had that power, she admonishes herself. He just didn't know it.

But he wouldn't use it against her. She knows that. Even as she feels the fear and anguish over what she's done creep around her stomach, she knows that. She forces herself to take a breath, to calm down. She's unsure what to do with herself now. Now that he knows. How to proceed. What to say.

As he's always done, he saves her from her torment.

"Hungry?"

Her voice is rough and ragged as she answers.

"Yeah."

She's not. But she should eat, and it breaks the ice.

He leaves the room and returns with a bowl of fruit. She reaches out to take it from him, but he ignores her and sits down on the bed, next to her and he holds out the bowl. He's willing to give her some respite, but he's not willing to break the connection.

As always; Thank you for reading and I hope you will leave a review.