Happy New Year everyone! Hopefully 2012 is treating you better than 2011, and hopefully 2011 was pretty good all-in-all as well. :)
This chapter is dedicated to those who wanted to kill me for having Elphaba leap out of a very tall building and fly off with no explanation for her thought process. I had some help from the book in order to get to that dark place that Elphaba's been living, so big Maguire fans might recognize a sentence here and there, including Elphaba's new mantra.
Enjoy, if possible.
I am not a slave to my emotions, Elphaba thought to herself forcefully. I am not a slave to my emotions.
But she was and she knew it. It was why she began her retreat from the tower, for the heated arguing had left her agitated and wearied long before Glinda's news and appeal. With everyone's eyes on her expectantly, she needed escapism. The pressure was incapacitating, limiting her ability to process and think. It was making it impossible to quell the storm that was building inside her.
She was feet from the open window before Fiyero pulled her back.
"Everything you've been fighting for years is gone."
Fiyero's words echoed in her mind, empty and wonderful, and she wished they were true. He saw it simply, as she never could, that if Morrible and the Wizard – the causes of everything – disappeared then she would be cured of all of her distress. But the problem was they were like the trigger of a disease and years later she was still suffering from all of the debilitating side effects. Dorothy and the Uplands were observable symptoms and the ones that couldn't be seen were lingering and exhausting and, as Elphaba saw it, incurable.
But most importantly in that moment, she was still fighting her feelings for Fiyero for the sake of Glinda and herself, just as she had been doing these last few years. Now her struggle was intensified for she had allowed him to make love to her, but other than having memories of his touch nothing else had changed. The ache of reality was even more painful than the passing pangs at Shiz. Then, she had wanted him but wouldn't allow herself to believe she could have him; now, she had him but knew she shouldn't.
There was no way that they could be together that would end well for him. Without her, he could go back to this comfortable life in the city where he and Glinda would be safe and not subjected to her undeniable toxicity anymore. With her, they would struggle every day. She could hardly manage that by herself; how could she allow him to suffer with her? How could a relationship survive that? Choosing to be with her was a mistake she wouldn't allow him to make.
She knew that if she lied and told him she didn't have feelings for him, contradicting what she had already imprudently revealed to him, that he would see right through her and she would risk any advantage she had; he would know that it was all a farce and she was as stupidly in love with him as he clearly was with her. She could not reason with him, for he would change her mind with his cute smile and his kind heart. So she did the worst thing she could think of: she viciously blamed him for things for which she honestly did not hold against him.
If she could go back in time days before to that leaky shack and read any page from the Grimmerie, she would find the Relinquishment spell every time, for she knew that it would be enough to breathe life back into his body. She was ready to die there so he could live. Die she did, but now that she was alive once again she was lost, confused, and unstable, like her new life was an unnatural accident of fate that left her in a world in which she was no longer meant to belong—which, of course, it was. And what was worst: she was drawn to Fiyero more intensely than ever. None of that was his fault, unless she chose to fault him for being too attractive, inside and out.
It was agonizing for her to watch as her harsh words stabbed at him like those Gale Soldier's spears had, as though they also killed him with each one she uttered. But she was sure she had succeeded in setting him free. She could leave Oz or disappear into some inconsequential corner of it and leave him to live a fulfilled life without the burden of his commitment.
But then, despite it all, he stepped forward and wouldn't let her go without him. He was ready to leap out of this tower and give up everything for her once more, even though she had hurt him so deeply. His handsome face was heartrending as he waited for her to accept him again, his wonderful lips were trembling as he sucked in an apprehensive breath at the chance of her touch and his crystalline blue eyes were begging for her acceptance.
That was when she felt herself shatter inside, when all of the built-up emotions from years of unhappiness had begun to rip through the surface and pour out of her like a violently erupting volcano. She wanted to scream at him, to point at Glinda's parents hate to show him that was what lay outside that tower for them and to gesture to Glinda to show what pain they caused if they stayed within it. She couldn't scorn him though, because she needed him and she was selfish enough that for a second she would live with either consequence in order to taste his lips again. With her dependence unbearably palpable, her façade began to fall as she fell even harder for him and she became unquestionably grounded to this world again.
She ran before she made the mistake of touching him. She ran before he could see the truth and tears in her eyes.
She leapt into the sky with a practiced grace and shot upwards, but beyond the first few feet she couldn't will her broom up. Spiraling around the tower, she barely missed Glinda's overhanging patio as she forced her stubborn broom up the last few feet.
She couldn't convince her broom that she wanted to leave because she didn't.
It stopped ascending as the emotions burst inside of her, and she cried out in frustration as she began to plummet down. All she could see was a mass of green before she slammed into it, her bare skin burning as it rubbed against the smooth jeweled surface, gravity wrenching her down the top of the spire. She clutched desperately at it with her toes and the fingers of the hand not tightly gripping to the wooden broom handle, pulling herself up and crawling across the rounded surface until she knew it was flat enough she wouldn't slip off and plunge a thousand feet to her death.
With the last of her strength sapped and the adrenaline leaving every inch of her trembling, she collapsed forward against the emerald and sobbed uncontrollably, her wet face sticking against the stone surface. In all of her experiences in all of the years of distress she had lived, she could not remember ever experiencing anything like this: feeling as though all the organs inside of her chest were missing and all that was left was deep aching and reverberating of her pulsing, pounding heart. She was like a fleshy version of the Tin Man, but she had the one thing he naively wanted. He might envy her for it, but she would give anything for his condition: Having a heart was not worth this pain.
If only she could magic spell her own away.
The simultaneous pain and emptiness within her were worse than anything she had experienced before— and she had always suffered from caring too much. This time was worse; she had been a fool to think that she had actually rid herself of any burdens of love, and now she was suffering the horrible consequences.
She sucked in a snotty breath and wiped angrily at her face, irritated that she felt this way. Getting to her feet, she stumbled a few more steps up the rounded top of the tower until it was flat enough for her to pace it, her dress and hair whipping around her as she and the wind changed directions. With her broom clutched in a death grip in her left hand, she felt no vertigo or fear of heights, especially as she regained some semblance of equilibrium on the slick stone.
Had she not left her glasses behind, she knew she would be able to see the mist of the fading clouds that hovered just feet above her or the way they swirled with the intermittent drafts of air in the gray sky. But her vision was flawed by nature and at the moment blurred by tears so she only felt the frigid gusts hitting her face and freezing the trails left behind on her cheeks. Behind the moisture, her eyes scanned down at the world below her and listened to the faint hustle and bustle of hundreds of thousands of Ozians as they lived their uncomplicated lives.
She exhaled bitterly as she stared down at them, the complexity of her emotions causing a twinge of nausea that she was tempted to dispel on them. But she wouldn't, because despite her resentment she had never learned to stop caring too much.
There was too much to hate in this world, and too much to love.
The entirety of the Emerald City sprawled beneath her feet, spreading far and wide in all directions. The sun was nearing the horizon, casting the metropolis into contrast— green and black, like it was made for her and she for it. She used to think she belonged here, amongst the emerald and the chaos. Back then she had such dreams for the future: She was to be adored, respected, and appreciated at the Wizard's side. Upon meeting, the faceless but impressive man would embrace her fearlessly and would see within her the good and worthiness she alone seemed to realize existed. They would sit down and discuss philosophy and politics and he would value her opinions rather than tolerate them. He would see her for what she was and facilitate the greatness they both knew she could achieve.
She remembered the way he promised her everything she wanted and charmed her when she finally met him; in hindsight, she realized he really did see her for what she was, but instead of building her up, he spotted her weaknesses and tore her down. He condemned her and years later humiliated her by luring her in again by that same fatal flaw: her silly dreams of a better future.
She grew up imagining that she would prove herself to the Wizard, be his charge and live happily ever after. But as soon as those horrid wings began sprouting out of the backs of those poor monkeys, she stopped romanticizing life and began simply trying to survive. Thinking about tomorrow became useless when there were no guarantees that she would last the day. Even as she kissed Fiyero after their escape from the palace she was living in the moment, an idea he embraced. She had no expectations for a future between them—how could she? What future could possibly exist for the Wicked Witch of the West?
She stopped knowing what would come next the moment she and Glinda ran from the Wizard's throne room with the Grimmerie so long ago. If Glinda asked her where she was going, there would be no need for lies because she had not decided, only that Glinda could look westward where the savage lands would protect her from the Wizard.
But now, suddenly, the Wizard was gone. She did not know why. For all she knew it was a trick, a spell cast on Glinda by Madame Morrible to make her finally lower her guard, and she and the Wizard were crouching in their throne room waiting for her to walk with Glinda there. By being Glinda's vizier, as she refused to be for the Wizard, she could finally be in a position to be Morrible's adept, or worse, assassinated on the spot.
But Glinda had asked if Elphaba trusted her and she said yes; these notions all were under the assumption that Glinda's proposition was untrustworthy, by her will or not. It wasn't fair of her to think that way, only precautious. As the old cliché jests, it's not paranoia if they're really out to get you, and she had a lot of experience that caused her to fear for the worst.
Thanks to Glinda, whom she could tell genuinely meant well and was unlikely spellbound, she was being offered the life she had once imagined for herself. But she wasn't that naïve girl anymore. She had long ago stopped being Elphaba Thropp, the girl whose head was in the clouds whenever it wasn't buried in a book. Since that time, virtually every campaign she'd set out for herself ended in failure. She had lost all faith in herself and had only one goal left: Do no more harm. That's all she wanted— to do no harm.
She had spent her whole life up until now putting everything she had into something and failing every time. She failed her sister, Dr. Dillamond and herself. Before long she would fail Glinda and Fiyero too. Glinda's parents already saw that – their instincts immediately put them on guard like a dog anticipating danger – so why didn't they?
Even if Glinda succeeded in changing her parent's minds about her and she was claimed as their kin, the idea of the life of attention and influence was not a pleasurable one anymore but rather a threatening one. She had been an ill fit for the life of diamonds and pearls and light long before her fall from grace and at present, thanks to the Wizard, a single mistake on any of their parts would amount to death for them all. And given her history of misbehavior, it was all too likely.
She had given up everything once following an offer for that life. She wouldn't allow Glinda and Fiyero to do the same.
The best choice she could make was the hardest one: she would take herself out of the equation. She would leave Oz. Maybe she would pass through the encampments of Animals like the one in the Pine Barren on her journey out of Oz. She could collect supplies from them and in turn apologize for her failures. She would tolerate one of the so-called Impassible Great Desert Barriers of Oz and explore the places she had only read about in books. Perhaps, if she went west, she could travel to the Land of Ev, see the underground lands and river within it before entering Rinkitink, a country that bordered the fabled Nonestic Ocean. Or she could reach the ocean by traveling to the lands to the south that the Quadlings used to talk about, like Boboland and The Valley of Mo. If she went east, maybe she could find out if the Isle of Yew truly exists. She could experience the cultures of these lands that were merely mysteries to Ozians. In all of these places, it wouldn't matter what her name was or what she ever looked like. She would be free.
She had made up her mind long before the time the sun vanished behind the horizon. Hours passed as she thought about memories of childhood, Shiz, Nessarose, Glinda and Fiyero, of the Wizard and Morrible, of Ozians and Animals; she thought about potential futures, about those in Oz that might contain a short period happiness before inevitable catastrophe and the less fulfilling ones that existed beyond its borders; and she thought about the state of the world and if there was any redemption for it or for herself. It all reinforced her certainty that she didn't belong here: That despite the color of the Emerald City, she never did.
She shouldn't stay up here much longer. She could feel her head spinning from fatigue. If she passed out, she feared she would either fall or be blown off of the North Tower to be found by Glinda's guards as shattered as her sister had been under Dorothy's farmhouse.
She knew she needed to use her remaining consciousness to make her escape once and for all. The city was nearing silence below her, only liquor-fueled pockets of it rowdy at this time of night, and undoubtedly the Uplands and Dorothy would have been found places to rest by now. Even Glinda and Fiyero were likely to be asleep. But she couldn't bring herself to leave without at least leaving a note farewell and snatching up some essentials, such as the knife Glinda had promised to leave on the dresser for her, warmer clothes including her thick cloak (how she wished she had it now against this bitter, biting cold!) and her mother's bottle. She would sneak in to Glinda's guest quarters and retrieve what she would need, and then she could take off into the night in whatever direction the wind took her fastest, leaving her only friends for good and for the better.
She took a deep breath and leapt off the tower.
I am not a slave to my emotions.
Reviewing might be enough to cause Elphaba to effectively defy gravity once more. Good reviews could even cause her to consider staying. Just sayin'.