AN: I have a few notes for my reviewers. Bear with me. -P
Palm Tree 101 - In answer to your question, I definitely encourage you to read one of my other Wicked fics, 'No One Mourns the Wicked - But What about the Good?' These two sister fics are the prequel, they join together in the next one.
sweetsaturn - I'm glad you're reading again. I can always count on you to really tell me what you think, and if certain things had the impact I hoped they would. 'Happy ending'? What means this 'happy ending'-P
Everyone else, I really appreciate your reviews, too. Thank you!
And just a small warning to tell you all that this chapter is going in a dark direction. Some of you might not like it.
"There's a kind of a, sort of a cost."
The next few days pass in a blur for Elphaba. She slips in and out of feverish sleep, and develops a deep, chest cough. Fiyero anxiously attends her. The rains continue, and the exposure to such an environment without the protection of a decent shelter takes a toll on the straw man. He is bedraggled, mud-spattered, tattered and frayed. His body is heavy with the moisture it absorbs.
Fiyero had journeyed in his straw body before, but his trip down the yellow brick road had been with three other companions, enough company to protect each other from their various weak points - and indeed, the elements were not kind to Fiyero. Any weather pattern, in excess, could damage his straw self. Perhaps even beyond repair. As he pauses against the canvas wall of the tent for a moment, he recalls his moment of transformation.
-
"Now! GO!" Fiyero shouted, the barrel of his gun trained on Glinda. He didn't risk a glance over his shoulder at Elphaba. He kept his gaze on the gun, pointed at Glinda. He wasn't even sure he knew the pretty blonde woman any more. She had changed from the soft schoolgirl that she was. They all had changed.
"Do it." He heard Glinda say. Her voice, though trembling, carried an undertone of command. Perhaps she would make a good public figure, after all. She didn't seem to have a problem saving her own skin. Fiyero heard the sounds of Elphaba fleeing, but he didn't look behind him. He knew there was an impossible number of soldiers, armed, waiting for him. Instead, he raised his eyes and for a moment, he gazed at Glinda's face.
The confident, cool schoolgirl was still there, underneath it all - maturity had just tempered the silliness with a real, though fledgeling, leadership ability. Her spine was straight, and though she was facing down the barrel of a gun, she didn't cower. Her eyes were gazing down the path Elphaba had taken, but a moment later, they flicked back to meet his. It was then that his gun wavered.
Glinda hadn't been concerned with saving her own skin. She had cared about Elphaba, too. She wanted Elphaba to get away. As his eyes gazed into hers, he could see the depth of feeling she still had for him. With a pang of regret, he recalled how he had stood her up at their engagement party. How he had run off with Elphaba, right in front of her.
Fiyero lowered the gun. He was dimly aware of Glinda shouting protests as the soldiers swarmed him. They roughly pinned him in place with sticks, and hoisted him above them. Glinda managed to harangue them into a pause for a moment. He hung in the soldiers' grip, aware of Glinda's presence beside him.
"He was never going to harm me. He... loves her." Finally, Glinda's voice trembled and broke, and Fiyero raised his gaze to her.
"Glinda, I'm so sorry." He replied, but the soldiers, seizing Glinda's moment of weakness, were already hoisting him up again.
"No! Don't hurt him. Please, don't hurt him!" Glinda's anguished voice floated to him as he was carried away, and the wind picked up. It seemed to carry a moan... it almost sounded like his name.
The soldiers stuck him up in a field. The commander stepped forward, holding the butt of his gun at the ready. "Where did the witch go?" He asked, his glaring eyes boring into Fiyero. Fiyero returned the gaze steadily, saying nothing. "You will tell me." The commander spat, raising the butt of his gun. Fiyero cringed slightly, anticipating the blow, but when it came, it felt surprisingly light. Dull, even. It didn't really feel like a blow at all. He opened his eyes. The soldiers were staring at him, in shock.
"Witchcraft." The commander hissed, bringing his gun to bear. He fired a shot, directly through Fiyero's heart. Or, directly where Fiyero's heart should have been. The bullet passed harmlessly through the cloth and straw body, landing in the field beyond. The commander was visibly shaken.
"Never mind, men. He can't get down off those poles." The commander said, clearly wanting to get away from the supernatural sight. "If we don't find the witch on our own, we'll come back. With torches."
-
As the grey morning dawns, Fiyero enters the tiny tent. To his relief, Elphaba is awake and alert.
As Elphaba wakes, to her it is like climbing out of a hole. Though she is weak and tired, she feels better. Her head has cleared.
As soon as Fiyero appears in the doorway, illuminated by the dawn, it feels as if a cold hand has taken hold of her chest. She stares at him in shock, wondering for a moment if she is still feverish. Though she has had only a short time to get accustomed to his new appearance, the apparition in front of her now is barely recognizeable.
The scarecrow's cloth is badly stained, covered in dark brown mud. Straw has worn through many parts of the body, his cloth hangs in soggy tatters. One arm dangles, ripped and empty. One eye is missing, straw ends poking through a large rip in his face.
"Fiyero..." Shock reduces Elphaba's voice to a whisper. She pushes herself up into a sitting position. Fiyero squeezes into the small tent, settling into the area her legs had previously occupied.
"It's been raining for days." The scarecrow explains, softly. "It turns out I can't handle it well, either. The wetter I get, the easier I tear."
Elphaba stares for a moment. "We'll dry you out. I'll fix you."
"The damage has been done, Elphaba." A crash of thunder precedes a flash of lightening that sounds frighteningly close by. "The rain isn't going to stop. Scarecrows don't last forever." He says, a slight bitter note in his voice.
"But.. your hay. You've survived without your hay before."
"At that time, my cloth was undamaged."
Elphaba grows both annoyed and desperate by the calm acceptance in Fiyero's voice. "I'll fix you." She repeats. "Something... the Grimmerie..." She clenches her fists, recalling how she had left the Grimmerie with Glinda. "I'll find something. I'll patch you up. I'll give you my own clothes!" As her tone grows more desperate, a small coughing fit overtakes her. Fiyero seizes the moment, standing up.
"You're in no condition to do that, Elphaba. What happens, happens. I want to make sure you're all right." He turns, and exits the tent. Elphaba quickly gets to her feet, and after taking a moment to regain her balance, she follows him out into the storm.
"Fiyero!" She calls, and he stops and faces her again. "Why are you like this? I... can't lose you."
"You already did." He replies, his tone harsh. Looking at her face though, he softens. "Elphaba, these past few days have been hard. I'm not the same as I was. I don't feel the same. When we were travelling, I didn't realize how tired you were getting. I didn't feel it. It's like I've lost touch with what it was like to be made of flesh and blood. I kept pushing you, because I could keep going. And I pushed you too far. I can't put you in danger like that. You'd be better off without me."
"Fiyero, I don't want to be without you. I don't care if you're different. I know different. Can't you see that?"
Fiyero smiles, a cold expression that twitches up the corner of his mouth. "This time, you don't understand what it's like. I'm not like you any more. And I can't explain it." He turns again. "I need to get some firewood. Stay here."
"No. I'm coming with you." Elphaba says, her tone just as steely.
"Don't be stupid. You've been running a fever for three days. Get back inside." Fiyero begins to head towards a stand of trees, with some fallen branches around the base.
Elphaba, fuming, stays where she is for a moment, as a great forked branch of lightening splits the sky above. She watches Fiyero move towards the trees, her arms folded. A movement above catches her eye, and it only takes her a split second to register what it is.
"Fiyero!" She screams.
The falling branch, loosed from the tree by the bolt of lightening, falls toward the ground. Its pronged tip catches the scarecrow in the face, poking gaping holes in the burlap. As the momentum carries the branch, it tears jagged strips straight down the scarecrow's soaking body. Soggy straw explodes over the ground, and the torn rags collapse in pieces.
Stunned, Elphaba dashes over to the pile. She fishes a few pieces of burlap from the rags. What should have been Fiyero's face is clear of any features. All she holds in her hands are a few strips of blank burlap.
Elphaba stares at the cloth for a long time, as the thunder crashes over her head.
AN: I'm not going to say much here. Except this was the longest chapter I've ever written. And don't hate me too much. I'll remind you that this is the prequel to my other Elphaba/Glinda fic, and in that fic I already established that Fiyero was gone. So to keep up consistency, it had to happen.
Thanks for reading.
Love,
B