I don't know why I feel guilty about being "late" posting this, considering late Sunday/early Monday was when I used to update all of the time, but you all seemed so sparkly and happy when I updated a few hours sooner. So I'm sorry. It's been a bit of a long day. Almost five years ago I started at my very first job, and tonight was my last day at that job. Instead of rushing home to post this I sat on a rock outside and reminisced for a while. The whole evening was rather bittersweet. If you feel up to it, I know reviews would help make me feel better. And if that's not a good enough reason, Elphie's back. :)

Elphaba materialized in a plume of smoke and embers in the middle of the North Tower's penthouse, and as soon as her feet touched the ground she collapsed in a coughing, shaking heap. A wave of nausea hit her and she dry-heaved, but her stomach continued twisting and lurching. Despite her discomfort, she was grateful that she hadn't eaten anything in nearly two days' time, if just for the carpet's sake.

It wasn't the first time she had teleported, but it was such a difficult, strenuous, and risky spell (one from the Grimmerie, of course) that she had always avoided it at all costs. Transporting herself entailed numerous illogical and excruciating contradictions. The moment the hex took affect her body felt stretched and shrunk instantaneously and simultaneously; she was ripped from the ground, and the forces of gravity and momentum forced her form in different directions; the seconds between realities were filled will blinding lights and limitless darkness. When she finally arrived, she was greeted by burning hot flashes and cold sweats, which were the worst only because the feeling lasted so agonizingly and annoyingly long.

It took a while until she could get up.

Elphaba, after pushing away her heavy black hood, blinked away the haze and looked around the room she was in. She had undeniably arrived in Glinda's residence. The walls were pink, but not too pink thankfully, and ivory linens and gold adornments decorated the room. There was a traditional, timeless grace to the space as to make it worthy of the Good Witch of the North.

She reserved a moment in the silence to sigh in relief at her success and her newly required security. The spell required a bunch of guesswork, and since she had never been in Glinda's home before, she had hoped that her brief view of the spire would have been enough. Clearly and fortunately, it was. And she managed not to turn up in a wall or midair a couple hundred feet away! She was rather pleased with herself.

Glinda and Fiyero hadn't arrived yet – she had said she probably wouldn't be able to until she was able to "tidy up the bedlam" they would create downstairs – so Elphaba wrapped an arm behind herself and pulled out the broomstick she had hidden away, leaning it against a wall nearby. She slid off her cumbersome messenger's bag and her heavy cloak, took a breath and shook herself loose, trying to remove the tension and tightness from her tired muscles that seemed to immediately lift without these things weighing her down.

She walked slowly around the large quarters, learning and absorbing everything she saw. Thinking back to the time that they were roommates, the apartment was different from the other side of their shared dormitory, she quickly noted. Far different.

Foremost dissimilarities that stood out to Elphaba were the collection of books and the fancy writing desk along one wall. Elphaba wasn't surprised about the books exactly, but more so of the vast number and of their lackluster nature. (Young Glinda, or Galinda, she supposed, was bright but easily bored.) These texts were filled with chronicles and recipes of magic, histories of religion, deliberation of philosophy and records of economics. She lost track of time perusing the volumes, absorbed in their content. They were the kinds of things that a young green-skinned girl she once knew spent lonely hours buried in, not the fashionable socialite.

After pulling herself from her reverie, she returned the tomes she had been leafing through and continued her examination of the room. She skipped over the desk, feeling uneasy with shuffling through her friend's personal work. Across the large space was a beautiful four-poster bed, the sheer curtains of which were tied. If she didn't know that the blonde flailed in her sleep, she would have questioned the sheer size of the mattress in comparison to her tininess. But Elphaba remembered the many mornings she woke up to see her roommate sprawled completely over her bedspread, taking up as much room as possible, and she smirked lightly in recollection.

Something on the bedside table caught her eye, and as she approached it and was able to see it better, her brow furrowed. It was a picture with Glinda, Fiyero, Boq, Nessarose, and herself from years back. It was taken the night before she and Glinda went to the Emerald City, and the small group of friends all went out to the local pub to celebrate. Everyone was genuinely laughing as they talked to one another, and no one, except perhaps Glinda who had glanced at the camera, seemed at all aware that someone stood nearby, capturing the moment.

Elphaba slowly reached out and picked up the frame, brushing her other hand over the young and innocent faces immortalized under the glass. Nessarose, so tragically beautiful, was rosy-cheeked and most likely tipsy. Her hand was placed fondly on little Boq's shoulder. He had a kind smile as he spoke to her, most likely telling her a funny story.

Oh, how she used to enjoy young little Boq and his bigheartedness. It was a shame the misfortunes he endured in the years following this picture. She doubted he would have ever suffered so if she had only stayed to take care of her sister instead of disappearing as she did…

Just on the other side of the young Munchkin boy was a young, healthy and green Elphaba Thropp. She supposed it wasn't a bad picture of her at all – not that she was very good at judging them – but she seemed happy and at ease. In her thin, emerald fingers, she clutched a glass mug in front of her and was laughing gaily without a care in the world.

Elphaba knew that moments like this one depicted were rare in her life, regrettably but truthfully. For once, everything seemed to have been going right for her and she was genuinely content at that point in time. If only that young woman knew what would happen to her in only about a turn of the clock, she wouldn't possibly been able to smile.

Next to Elphaba in the shot was Glinda, of course, in all her dazzling beauty and delightful youthfulness, gesturing theatrically as she entertained the green girl that she was facing and the handsome prince on her other side. Neither of her audience members seemed to notice the wily glance away from them at the camera the moment the shot was taken.

Part of that would probably be due to the fact that dashing young Fiyero's gaze seemed to be fixated in another place. At first, it appeared he was looking at Glinda – and why would anyone question that when his hand was placed on her back the way it was? – but upon closer inspection, Elphaba was knocked for six to realize that Fiyero was captivated by her.

Every time Fiyero looked at her now, after he ran away from his job and flawless, ideal life, she still held disbelief that it could all be true. 'How could anyone, especially someone as amazing as him, ever love someone like you?' that cynical voice in the back of her head kept asking. The fact that he claimed to have felt affection for her all those years ago was even more preposterous to her. That skeptical part of her never accepted it to be true.

But, she thought, touching Fiyero's image in wonderment, this wasn't an accidental glance. Everything he was doing he was in total control: the way he was balancing on two legs of his chair; how an arm was draped over his one leg that was folded up near him while the other was hung over the top of Glinda's chair with his hand flat against her upper-back; the smile he had resting on his lips. With that in mind, it was hard to keep convincing herself that the way he was looking at her, with such intensity, focus and veneration, was just coincidental timing.

She couldn't do it because that was the way she kept catching him looking at her during their flight from Oz.

Elphaba put the frame back in its place, feeling almost contented but also overwhelmed with the assurance the photograph provided. There were times that she wished she or Fiyero had been brave enough all those years ago to be honest with one another about how they felt. Maybe things would have been altered. Maybe she would have stayed at Shiz and wouldn't have seen the Wizard. Maybe they would have had the chance to live an ordinary life with a regular relationship with him…

But no, she didn't think it would have been that easy. They were so young; she was too ambitious and blindly optimistic and he was too egotistical and carefree. In their years apart, they both grew up. Fiyero told her right before he left the Emerald Palace with her that he changed, and it went without saying that she had too, so very much.

Glinda had mellowed too; she shuddered to imagine how young Galinda would have handled her two friends running off with one another. Oh, the temper tantrums, the fighting that would have ensued…

Elphaba heard the door click and turned as her old roommate and Fiyero entered. Glinda stayed by the door, closing it softly behind them, but he rushed over to her and hugged her immediately. She couldn't help a laugh at his uncharacteristic entrance, nor could help but melt in his arms.

Despite their struggles, in the end everything seemed to work out all right, she considered.

She wanted to hold him close, but because of fear for his injuries, she settled with wrapping her arms around him lightly and resting her head on his shoulder. He was so solid, so strong, and so real. He was breathtaking.

Elphaba was so in love with him it drove her crazy; something which she was sure had affected her judgment at least once in the past few days. If anything had been different, such as if she had never cast that desperate spell meaning she wouldn't have been sidetracked by her own mortality and degreenifacation, she feared for what would have come about. With nothing to lose, what would the Wicked Witch of the West have done? What could have happened to Oz?

She felt him kiss the top of her head and her heart fluttered. Not only did he have the ability to potentially turn her into an unstable sociopath, everything about him from the way he looked at her to the way he touched her made her excitable, romantic, and starry-eyed as well. But that was her secret, and she wasn't planning on telling anyone anytime soon.

And she knew better than to go off into her own little Elphaba-and-Fiyero world, especially when her best friend was watching them from the other side of the room. Elphaba moved her head up so it rested instead on the crook of Fiyero's neck and locked gazes with Glinda.

Her expression was hard and inscrutable. No doubt she was furious at the sight in front of her, but she covered it well, Elphaba thought. Taking into account that the last times they had all been together Fiyero had broken his engagement with her friend rather tactlessly to be with her, then she had rubbed Fiyero's decision in Glinda's face and he had held his ex at gunpoint to allow his rebel lover to escape, Elphaba could not continue their display of affection in front of her.

But however the Good Witch felt, she seemed to set it aside and instead smiled amiably as Elphaba gently pushed Fiyero away. She immediately missed his warmth.

"You two are a sore sight for eyes," Glinda said to them in a surprisingly fond voice.

"Don't you mean, 'a sight for sore eyes'?"

"No."

Her friend probably had a point if she looked even half as bad as Fiyero did. And judging from her reflection on a nearby mirror (with this being Glinda's bedroom, there were a few around to say the least), she had to agree. She certainly felt horribly aching, exhausted, and to add to that, ill from her sorcery, but her appearance was filthy and worn enough she could have passed for someone that had been sleeping on the streets. Well, minus the having gotten sleep part. That showed quite noticeably: dark circles were starting to appear below her eyes, and her pale face seemed somewhat gaunt in the mid-morning light. Her hair was stringy, still somewhat damp from the rain, and knotted from having been whipped by the wind for hours on end. She had faded reddish-brown streaks on her face from where she anxiously ran her bloody and muddy hands earlier, and though they were hardly noticeable, they hadn't been completely washed away by the rainfall. One look down reminded her that her skirt and boots were caked in crusty muck (which was once again fortunate for the carpeting).

But, other than being physically shabby and hurt, she felt good. And Fiyero seemed the same way as he smiled down warmly. One corner of his mouth quirked up in a mischievous way as he brushed his hand against hers, tempting her fingers to wrap around his as if knowing how much of an inner battle she was facing in trying to keep herself from him in front of Glinda. She glanced away to keep either of them from seeing the shy smile that crept to her face or the blush she forced herself not to appear on her cheeks. Elphaba forced her gaze back to Fiyero with as fierce of a look as she could muster in her slightly flustered state in return for him teasing her so.

"I have to say, I don't think that could have gone any better if we planned it ourselves," Glinda added calmly as she walked around, picking out clothes and a bathrobe from drawers nearby before dropping it onto her bed for Elphaba. With a self-satisfied smile, she threw in, "Oh, wait a clock-tick! We did!"

"Why didn't you tell me you two had a plan?" Fiyero asked Elphaba, his cute grin dripping down as his gaze bounced between both witches. "You confused and scared me more than I'd like to admit. What happened down there?"

"It was just a bit of trick magic on my part," Glinda explained, giving her wand a little flourish.

"And some dangerous magic on mine," the other witch added, her features shadowing as she frowned. She still felt queasy from it.

"I still don't understand when you cooked this up," Fiyero said, his eyebrows nearly lost in his stringy bangs.

Glinda just smiled up to him while Elphaba told him simply, "It's a long story."

"I've got time!" Fiyero said, his voice cracking slightly. Even Elphaba laughed quietly at him.

"No Fiyero, you don't," Glinda corrected, and he gaped at her, confused. "You need to come with me and so we can repossess your belongings. I have no doubt that they've already been packed and are ready to be shipped off to your family with a note of condolences. Don't look at me like that! Do you want to deal with your parents if they receive the personal effects of their dead prince?"

"I don't want to deal with them when they know I'm alive."

"Well then, let's go clear up the Wizard's pronouncement of your passing then, shall we?"

"But…but all those stairs!" Fiyero complained, pointing to the door in reference to the enormous spiral staircase they must have climbed to get to the top of the tower.

"Oh, what a baby! I figured seeing Elphie would be worth an extra trip up and down the steps…"

"Of course it was, but do I have to go?" Fiyero asked, looking for Elphaba for support.

"Yes!" Glinda retorted. "You're my proof that you're not dead!"

"This is just ridiculous."

"Quit whining. I've got plenty of other things I need to do besides listen to you and save your precious royal possessions…"