Chapter 19

Elphaba threw herself into her work, pouring over the spell book she had been given, determined to master the instructed spell. She worked into the wee hours of the night, and found herself bedraggled and nauseous each morning. She was all but useless during the day, often falling asleep where she stood and then snapping awake muttering snatches of spells.

She knew Fiyero must sense she was involved in something overwhelming. Elphaba found herself holding him tighter, more fiercely, and then subsequently pushing him away. Her mood swings were erratic, and she would long for his company and then hurry him out the door as her mind became consumed with a frustrating piece of her spell.

For Elphaba, this assignment was a turning point. It was a chance to prove that she was a worthy sorceress, and a vital member of the Resistance. It was a chance to pay back both wrongs done to her and the Animals. This mission had real outcomes for her, as it would ensure that Morrible could no longer lie, twist, and manipulate the truth to further the Wizard's agenda. Elphaba wanted this to work with an intensity that burned beneath her skin.

Finally, when she felt she was finally grasping the key elements of her spell, she allowed Fiyero to return after several days absence. She had spent most of the day asleep on the bedroll out of pure exhaustion. So that night, she held him fiercely, desperately even, as though taking him in filled her with courage and strength. Then they slept, huddled under blankets in the moonlight.

The following morning, Elphaba woke him early, while it was still dark. She rose and boiled water for coffee over the stove, being careful not to splash. Fiyero watched her sleepily, and then rose when the aroma of the warm coffee wafted over him. Elphaba watched him steal a little of Malky's milk, and the Cat hissed for good measure. She could see the corner of Malky's mouth twitch in a smile, and she knew he was only playing at being feline.

Elphaba then sat with the blanket wrapped protectively around her, and reached for the coconut oil. She worked some into her hands and rubbed her shoulders slowly, working out the knots that had formed endless hours of leaning over ancient books. She took a deep breath, knowing Fiyero would argue with her next request.

"A fortnight, my dear. My pet, as my father used to say. I need a fortnight of privacy now." She made an attempt at a playful tone, hoping the pet name would soften his argument.

"No! That's not on, Fae-Fae. It's not all right, it's too long." Fiyero protested shamelessly, seeming all the more desperate to hold onto her.

She tried to argue with him, tried to offer a measure of the importance of her mission. Yet he pressed harder this time, refusing to be content with just a vague explanation as to what her mission entailed. She talked around and about her plans and their importance, trying her best to make him see that his striving to protect her life did little for the greater moral good. Then he struck a nerve, when he suggested the unthinkable.

"Fae," He started, "Elphaba. Do you really not know who is pulling the strings that make you move? How do you know you're not being manipulated by the Wizard?"

She bristled at this, her claws bared and her anger flaring as she snuffed out the possibility that she could be a pawn for the despicable leader of Oz. Elphaba told him exactly how wrong he was, and finished her tirade by spitting out, "Give me the credit for having spent some years at this, Fiyero."

"You can't tell me for sure who is or isn't the boss," He threw the words out coldly, his eyes dark and full of concern.

Elphaba tried a different tactic. She allowed the blanket to fall from her shoulders as she worked more oil over her skin. She moved slowly, giving him a sultry view of her working the smooth liquid over her bare skin.

"Papa didn't know the name of his Unnamed God," She nearly purred, "It never is the who, is it? It's always the why."

"How do you hear?" Fiyero's tone lost some of its sharpness, as he couldn't help but watch her work with the oil, "How do they tell you what to do?"

"Look, you know I can't say," She dropped her voice to a lower, more sensual volume and caught his eye over her shimmering, green shoulder.

"I know you can," He still would not give in.

She turned, panicked at being unable to deter him from this questioning, and threw out, "Oil my breasts, will you?" She had tried to sound casual, but her voice shook with uncertainty.

Fiyero looked at her, amazed, concerned, and somewhat shocked all in the same moment. She had never allowed him this privilege before, and she could see he wanted it. He was smart enough to see the motive, though. "I'm not that stupidly male, Elphaba," He defended, even though deep down he was, with her.

"Yes you are," She laughed awkwardly, but was pleased that it was working, "Come on…" She held out the bottle.

He came to her, then, finally losing the will to argue. She was that stubborn, that hard, and it made him adore her.

Elphaba lay back carefully, unsure of exactly what she had gotten herself into. She realized that their time together had softened her, pulled down her guard and opened her heart to new things. She still would not look at her own reflection, but in the moment she realized how much she trusted him. As Fiyero took the oil in his hands and smoothed it over the curves and angles of her body, she relaxed. She allowed her eyes to close. She even wondered why she had not allowed this sooner, how she had lived without the feeling of him working his strong hands over her fatigued body like her own great healer. She trusted him enough that, in the moment, she had forgotten about the stove, which cast a warm, flickering light over the room.

Fiyero worked the oil over her abdomen, over the curve of her hip. Subconsciously, her legs fell open as he smoothed the oil over her leg to the inside of her thigh. And then he gasped, and in a second she registered what he had seen.

"Sweet Oz! Elphie…what in the name of…?" He wasn't able to finish the question as she lunged from the bed as if he were the predator and she the prey. She took the blanket with her, clutching it tightly over herself.

Such was the state of her panic that she shrieked, "No! You weren't supposed to…I mean you can't…I told you never to…you must go!" She pointed a trembling finger toward the door, "Go, now! Get out! You've ruined it now, and you must go!"

"Elphie…" Fiyero reached for her, extending his arms toward her as one would toward a small, frightened animal.

"Go! Please, just leave me!" She was screaming, caution abandoned in her frantic state.

"Elphaba, I never meant to sound so alarmed! It was just shock, not anger or disgust…" He tried to reason.

"Just get out!" She would not budge.

"Fae…" He dropped his arms, "I can't leave you…I love you."

Something snapped in her, and she felt the tears rushing behind her eyes. So she screamed louder, knowing it was the only way to keep the tears from falling. "You can't love me! I mean you can't, and you can't! I will not allow you to put that much value on my insignificant life! I should never have let you in, never should have selfishly taken from you. It's all such selfishness…and what I thought made me stronger has made you weaker and has you grasping at my life as though it were something to be saved! I am a tool, Fiyero! I perform a service, I meet a need! I am marked for the service I provide. I'm a whore, Fiyero!" Her voice dropped to barely a whisper, "And nothing you can do can take it away, or make me more than that."

Fiyero stood, stunned, and said nothing. His heart wrenched, but he could make no words come out.

"Just go," She had turned from him, as though she couldn't bear to see him as he left her behind.

He put the pieces together, suddenly able to fill in the gaps. There was her refusal to allow him to see her, to explore all of her body, her sometimes irrational fear of him, and the anger and indifference she used to cover it. He thought of her pitifully poor opinion of herself and her worth. Even her paroxysm now seemed clearly tied to some horrific event in her past. It all made sense. It made horrible, execrable, nauseating sense. Suddenly, he was angry that someone had dared to defile this beautiful, unique, emerald goddess in the way he had seen on the insides of her thighs.

"Who did this, Elphie? I swear to Lurline, I will kill them myself! I'm a hunter, and I do not miss…"

"You think it's that easy?" She was pacing erratically, trembling and shrieking, "You think that would make it better? Do you honestly think that would change who I am? Would it really ever make you see me differently?"

"I don't see you differently now!" He tried to protest.

"Oh please!" She spat, "I can see it in your face! Disgust is not easy to hide!"

"If it's disgust, it's toward him! Elphie I could never-" She cut him off.

"Are you ready to murder scores of men? Because that is what it would take!" Elphaba threw out details without restraint now, hoping to disgust him enough to make him leave quickly, and leave her with her shame. "Besides," She hissed, "the one who marked me is already dead."

Fiyero moved toward her and tried stop her frantic movement. She pulled from him, and he tried again. This time, she shoved him, flailing about as she tried to keep the blanket around herself and assault him at the same time.

"No, no!" She screamed as he half-chased her around the room, "Go, go! Because you can't…you won't…you couldn't…"

He seized her, and his size worked in his favor. He lifted her and carried her to the bedroll. Fiyero wrapped his arms around her so she could not flee as she wailed illogically, "I am a whore…a whore…an aberration…I am the aberration!"

He held her until she was quiet, and he was quite afraid she'd completely given herself over to insanity. Yet, as goes the heart of one so deeply in love, he would not leave her. Not if she lost her senses and ran shrieking naked through the streets. He loved her that much.

Fiyero looked at her, so still and quiet and tormented, and he could see tears pooling in her eyes. He could see her swallowing savagely to keep them from flowing. And suddenly, he had nothing less than a revelation.

She never cries, It struck him hard, as he remembered Galinda's description of their last moments together, It's the water…she has no release other than this madness…

So he took a risk, not knowing if she would slap him and run from him, or curse him and disappear forever. All Fiyero knew is that he could not watch this suffering any longer. He kissed her, long and full on her unresponsive mouth, and dashed across the room to rifle through his belongings. He had taken to leaving things here, as he often spent several nights in a row. At the bottom of the supplies he had purchased for his trip back to the Vinkus, he found what he was looking for. He crossed the room and sat beside her again, and turned her face toward him.

Elphaba shoved his hands away, her eyes stormy.

Fiyero tried again. "In the Vinkus, we often hunt in the rain, when necessary," He tried to make his voice soothing, "The weather can be harsh, from blazing sun to blinding rain and searing snowfalls. It's as extreme as the jagged landscape. When it rains as such, we have to protect our weapons, lest they rust and become useless. On one of our trips to the city, we ran across a peddler who'd discovered a compound that seemed quite useless," Fiyero carefully unscrewed the top to the canister in his hands, "Yet what was useless to him was invaluable to us," He carefully dipped his finger in the colorless, smooth paste and spread it gently over her cheek. She jerked backward, but his eyes held her and she stilled.

"It repels water," He continued as he worked the stuff over her face with the same tenderness as he had spread the oil, "and it wipes clean. It's very effective, and our weapons are never ruined."

There was a long, thick silence as she stared at him, searching his eyes. Elphaba herself wasn't sure what she was looking for. Motive? Sincerity? Hope? Or did it matter? She reached up and delicately touched her face, unsure. She finally looked at him, and he could see the tears within her.

"Cry Elphie," He whispered, "You've earned it."

Fiyero held his breath as she let two wet droplets fall and work their way over her face, and he saw the realization that they did not burn her. Her saw her façade crack as she let the tears flow, spilling them onto the blanket as a lifetime of anger, sorrow and wrongdoing burst from her.

Elphaba collapsed onto the floor, bent over so that the great torrents of tears fell to the floorboards. Her shoulders heaved and shook as the sobs overtook her. She had never felt such great release as she allowed so much pain to flow through her and from her. It hurt. It hurt so bad she wailed and cried out, and yet the agony poured from her instead of festering within. She cried for the father who stoically used her as an example of sin. She cried for the mother she lost too soon. She cried for Galinda, whom she loved so much, and for the friends she'd left behind. She cried for the Animals, and the loss of so many nameless innocents who did not deserve their fate. And she wailed for the loss of her own innocence, for the way she'd been so harshly used and tossed out.

Fiyero wrapped his arms around her for minutes, hours, whatever it took.

Finally, from the wracking sobs, she sputtered in a hoarse whisper, "He raped me, Fiyero. They raped me. Two hundred and twelve times," She wouldn't look at him, and he sensed her confession was not just meant for him.

Fiyero's heart broke for her, as he finally understood so much.

How could they? He asked himself useless questions, How could anyone…

And he held her close, as the sobs overtook her again.

**************************************************

Elphaba lost track of how many times she'd given herself over to sobbing. Each time it seemed she'd run out of tears, her heart would find another pocket of stored, festering grief. Finally, she collapsed into Fiyero, her head spinning and aching. Her throat was raw, her eyes burned, and she was trembling. Her breath came in racking wheezes as she tried to calm herself. Fiyero took a cloth and wiped her face clean, taking the tears and the glorious film of paste away. Then he wrapped his arms around her as she lay against him and stared at the ceiling.

When her breathing had calmed somewhat, Elphaba turned suddenly and pressed her lips to his in a long, slow kiss. It was not so much sensual as it was loving and reassuring, as though she needed to compensate for having assaulted him earlier. When she pulled away, he looked at her, taking her in. He lifted his hands and traced the sharp line of her jaw. He lovingly ran a finger over her expressive mouth and then across the angles of her nose and cheeks. Then his hands found her hair, and he pulled them through it, twining it around his fingers. It fell to her waist now, and Fiyero found it held the scent of the oils, a scent he could identify anywhere as simply Elphaba.

Suddenly, she pulled herself in to him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and circled her arms around his shoulders. She still clutched the blanket around her, and it enveloped them. Fiyero was startled at first, yet he quickly realized the significance of what she had done. Elphaba was holding tight to him, like a life preserver in a vicious storm. He wrapped his arms tightly around her small frame and held her, wordlessly, understanding the tenuous nature of the moment. Fiyero knew that Elphaba was not one to lean on others, to ask for help or admit any kind of weakness. Her need for love or kindness, or perhaps simply touch, must be incredibly great for her to have made herself this vulnerable. The events of the morning gripped him, and he found tears in his own eyes. Fiyero understood that he was incredibly privileged to witness this Elphaba. To be this way with her sexually was one thing, but for her to wrap herself around him in this incredibly needy, child-like way was very different. He knew, without a shadow of doubt, that he was the only person who would ever hold her this way, who would ever know her this way. It was overwhelming, for someone who was usually so lackadaisical about things.

So they stayed that way for a long time, with their heartbeats close and falling into rhythm. Fiyero had never managed to get his shirt back on, and the heat of skin pressed against skin warmed them, like a healing cocoon beneath the blanket. Some time later, when the sun began to crest over the horizon and cast the room in a soft, cerulean glow, Elphaba pulled back. She pulled the blanket over the bare skin of her chest and moved her mouth as though to speak, but no words came out. She stared over his shoulder, as though deeply considering something.

"Fae?" He finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper.

"I wish," She started, her voice low and gravelly, "I wish…that I were beautiful. Not for me, for you, because that's what you deserve…"

"Fae..." Fiyero interrupted, but she cut him off.

"Don't lie to me. We are what we are. You are a beautiful, Arjiki prince, and I am cursed with this verdigris…" She looked down at her hands, studying their color in the soft light. Fiyero raised her face gently and pushed her hair back, as if to see her better.

"Fae…Elphaba, do you know what verdigris is?" He asked.

She rolled her eyes, some of the hardness returning to her features. "Of course I know what it is! I've lived with it my entire life." She looked cross, as though he had broken a spell.

Fiyero took her hands, "Not as it applies to you, sweet Fae. Verdigris in nature."

She looked at him, both perplexed and wary at the same time.

Fiyero allowed himself a tiny smile. "Verdigris is what happens to copper when it's exposed to weather."

Elphaba looked at him as though he might have lost his mind. She pulled away from him and sat on the edge of the bedroll. She found herself slightly annoyed, that he was choosing to ramble on about such nonsense.

Fiyero sensed her agitation and tried again. "Copper is incredibly soft, for a metal. It's malleable and easily shaped, but it's not very strong. It can't withstand much on its own. When it's exposed to rain and wind and such, its chemical makeup changes, and it forms what is called verdigris. It is very hard, very strong, and very enduring. It is also very green."

Elphaba cocked on eyebrow up, still uncertain. Yet there was a glimmer in her eyes that was new.

"Elphie, if anything, verdigris is a sign of strength. It is what happens when something has been through a storm, and changes itself to come out better and stronger, rather than giving in. You are not an aberration, you are strength itself."

She looked at him, considering his words and their subsequent meaning.

"I don't feel strong today," She finally answered him, her voice unusually soft.

"Sometimes what we feel doesn't change who we are," Fiyero seemed shocked at his own wisdom, as though he had never made the effort to think this deeply about things before.

To Elphaba, it was endearing. She hesitated before speaking, considering her words carefully. Confession did not come naturally to her. "I have often wondered, even dreamed, of a place where there is no color, perhaps beyond the rainbow. It was somewhat of a childhood fancy, imagining a place where color faded to black and white. In such a place, my skin color would cease to matter. I dreamed of it once, and do you know what?"

It was Fiyero's turn to look curious.

"I was still green. In a world completely devoid of color, this pigment prevailed. It seemed like a sign, of the strength of my unusual nature, or of my sins." She trailed off, as if both remembering and contemplating in the same moment.

"Maybe it's just a sign of your strength. Period," Fiyero suggested quietly.

"Maybe I'm truly not meant for this world," She threw out.

"Then I'll leave it behind, because this world is nothing without you in it."

Elphaba turned from him to hide her deep blush of embarrassment. She gasped, when he seized her hand and pulled her to her feet. He pulled her over to the one window, which had been boarded over from the outside. As Elphaba knew quite well, it reflected almost as clearly as a mirror. Fiyero pointed to her reflection and nearly pleaded with her.

"Elphie, try to see what I see…" He didn't realize the significance of what he had done, and Elphaba found herself too shocked to look away. "I see a woman," He continued, "I see your strong sexuality, as any man would, and I see your strong will, as everyone should. I see skin that makes me want to touch and a heart that makes me want to love harder than I thought I could. I see the face of the woman I love, and I see this hair, which is so rich and wonderful it makes me want to wrap myself in it. I see my Elphie, my Fae. And she is beautiful."

Elphaba's breath caught, and she thought she might cry again. She held back though, as she allowed herself to look at her reflection. Carefully, almost fearfully, she dropped the blanket from where she clutched it around her waist, so that she stood naked. He had no reason to lie to her, nothing to gain by showering her with such compliments. In fact, he stood to lose the most in this affair. So she tried to look through his eyes, tried to see things a different way. It might have been the light, or the way she straightened up with just a little confidence, or the spark of hope in her eyes, but she saw it. She saw that she was beautiful, in her way. And she was quite surprised.

Elphaba looked at the reflection of both of them, green against deep brown, speckled with blue diamonds. Suddenly she was filled with something warm and strong and wonderful. In the beautiful collage of their bodies, she did not see her scars.

She pulled away from him and moved to sit on the bedroll. Dropping her reticence like the blanket, she reached for the oil again and held out her hands to him, inviting him to finish what he had begun. Just as she lay back against her makeshift pillow, the sun crested over the horizon and filled the exchange with a warm, brilliant light. It poured over Elphaba's body, giving her a golden, green glow.

He had never seen her like this, and Fiyero was surprised at the strength of his desire for her. It was as though it was their first time again, or as though he were a nervous bridegroom seeing his bride for the first time. She reached for him, and he went to her, pressing himself against her as he took some oil in his hand. Fiyero pulled her up from the bedroll and worked the oil over her shoulders to her breasts, studying the curves and lines of her in this new light. He buried his face in her hair and took in the scent of her as he worked the oil over her back. He allowed his hands to slide down over her buttocks to the place where her thighs pressed together.

Elphaba made a noise in the back of her throat, a sort of moan, and gripped him tightly. He stopped and looked in her eyes, as if to seek permission, and she simply pulled him close, wrapping her arms around his neck. So Fiyero allowed his hands to continue past the curve of her buttocks to the folds between her legs. He explored her, felt her, and gently caressed her, forgetting about the hideous scars she had tried so desperately to hide.

She suddenly pulled back, as it became too much for her. "I have four companions," Her words spilled out as she tried to cover her uncertainty with the distraction of confession, "Oh heart, I have four comrades; they don't know who our cell leader is, it's all done in the dark, with a masking spell to shadow the voice and distort the features. If I knew more, the Gale Force could catch me and torture it out of me, don't you see?"

Fiyero looked into her eyes, and she could tell he knew she was confessing only as a means of distracting his hands. He brought them back up to her face. "We have a lifetime…" He kissed her, and she wondered at his exact meaning, yet she did not ask.

"What is your object?" Fiyero asked as he loosened his trousers.

"Kill the wizard," She breathed into his ear.

Elphaba wrapped her legs around him and pulled him down onto the bedroll. She poured out the rest of the coconut oil and worked it over his body. She felt alive and charged and full of a new spark, a drive she could barely contain. She wanted him with a force that overwhelmed her and made her ache. She felt free and strong, as though she had cast off some invisible shackles and could feel more purely than before. She could see that it scared Fiyero a little, yet he tipped his head back and moaned at her touch as she explored his body with wild abandon. She clutched her fingers in his hair as he worked his hands over her stomach and between her thighs to drive her body into an aching frenzy. They tumbled together, their bodies glistening from the oil and the sweat from the heat of their passion. And then she took him in, deep and full and without restraint. They rocked together, moving and holding each other in a tumultuous maelstrom of touch. Elphaba felt him harden within her, felt herself slip over that glorious chasm of pleasure that racked her body, this time without hesitation.

Fiyero trembled, and she could feel his chest heaving. This time, she did not push him away, did not curl up beneath the blanket to hide. She looked in his eyes and felt what he had meant with regard to verdigris. She felt strong and powerful and very female. She felt like a woman and revolutionary. She felt colorful and wild and free.

She was ready.