A Storybook Romance
The Goddess of gifts the last, reaching in among flame and water,
cradling her, crooning something, but the words remain unclear.
-Wicked, p. 515
The scattered starlight of a cold autumn evening found Elphaba walking quietly along the frozen footpaths of the Shiz campus grounds; back towards Crage Hall and the warmth of her own bedroom. The performance at Fellian Hall had begun mere moments ago, but it would have been impossible for her to spend another minute there in the company of her friends, particularly after what had transpired between her and Boq.
He had gotten to her, there was no mistaking that. In another time or another place, she might even have respected him for it. But with regards to the here and now, there was only resentment, coupled with her habitual irritation with him. Every carefully constructed criticism he'd leveled at her tore at her conscience, prompting her to do the unthinkable by leaving early to seek Glinda out. It was, as always, one of the hastiest, most ill-considered decisions she'd ever made, but Glinda invariably had a way of persuading Elphaba to do the impossible. So she'd left without telling anyone, neither knowing nor caring how they would react. She would have Nessarose to answer to in the morning, undoubtedly, but even that was strangely irrelevant to her, so focused she was on her own supposed shortcomings.
The large doors of Crage Hall loomed before her more quickly than she had anticipated, inviting a kind of tranquil menace in with them. Elphaba clenched her jaw and stepped through the soft-lit entrance, trying to calm her nerves as best she could. Hardly any sound could be heard in the building; it seemed as though everyone had gone to the performance that evening. All the better, she said to herself. It wouldn't do to try and talk to Glinda with a lot of noisy distractions pressing down on them.
As she began climbing the stairs one-by-one, Elphaba wondered for the hundredth time that night whether or not she was making a terrible mistake. She'd had plenty of time to reconsider on the journey back, of course, but stubbornness kept her moving forward. If she didn't do this now, she might lose her nerve altogether. Better just to get things over with and hope that Boq wasn't wrong.
After making her way to the second floor, she started quietly down the corridor to their room, watching the gaslights flicker and fade along the walls around her. Upon reaching the door, she found that it was locked, and fumbled around in her pocket for the key. Glinda must have gone out after all, or maybe she was just edgy about being there by herself. Elphaba unlocked the door and stepped into the room, noting her roommate's absence almost immediately.
"Glinda?" she called.
There was no answer. She could hear the sounds of running water coming from the washroom, however, indicating that Glinda was obviously taking a bath.
Elphaba let out a weary sigh as she slipped her cap off of her head. Now that she was standing in the middle of their room, she felt all the foolishness of dashing back here with such melodramatic haste as would be befitting some theatrical production. What did she think she was going to do—come crashing through the doorway to boldly grab her roommate and demand the truth out of her? How could she even have contemplated something so utterly ridiculous?
Damn Boq. Damn him and all of his four-foot idiocy. This was his fault, if anything. He had turned her into some overly-anxious train-wreck.
Elphaba wandered over to her side of the room and sat down heavily on her mattress, running her hands behind her neck with a long, drawn out breath. Maybe it was good that Glinda hadn't been here to greet her. It would give her time to think, or time to prepare whatever she had come back to say in the first place.
I apologize for returning early in this ridiculously maudlin fashion, but I felt pressed to voice my concerns over your well-being, as I've noticed that you've been emotionally remiss for quite some time…
Hell and Oz, it even sounded stupid in her head.
Rubbing the back of her neck with cool fingers, she briefly considered heading down to the kitchens for tea while Glinda had her bath. Her gaze wandered over to her roommate's bed where she noted the creased blankets and goose down pillows stacked unevenly against the headboard. There was a book resting on Glinda's comforter, a cracked and filthy looking tome that had no business at all being anywhere near her roommate's personal belongings. Elphaba studied it for a moment, eyebrows furrowed, then eventually stood up to get a better look at it.
The book was laying face down, half-buried beneath the tangle of blankets and pillows. She picked it up, surprised by its weight, and turned it over in her hands. Handmaids of the Fire Serpent was printed along the cover above a faded illustration of a toothless dragon. A peculiar reference for a second-year sorcery student Elphaba thought, and she flipped through the pages with mild curiosity. Images of deformed women and gruesome looking Animals were spread across the interior, accompanied by bold texts in two different languages. Her frown deepened the further on she read, specifically when the subject matter grew considerably more graphic. Serpents feasting on the eyes of a child... a demon fornicating with a headless girl. A portrait of a village consumed by fire, and a young maiden dancing within the flames. What on earth would Glinda be doing with a book like this? What was she hoping to learn?
It could have been instinctive, or an unsettling premonition, but whatever the case might have been, a sudden uneasiness crept over Elphaba. She could still hear the sounds of running water coming from the washroom, but something seemed strangely off to her.
Wrong.
"Glinda?" she called, suddenly needing to hear her roommate's voice.
Glinda didn't answer.
Elphaba closed the book and set it back down on the mattress, feeling her unease starting to sink in further.
"Glinda?" she called again.
Still no response.
Elphaba stood there for a moment, listening intently, then crossed over to the washroom door and knocked on it sharply.
"Glinda," she said more firmly this time. "Glinda, answer me. I need to talk to you." She waited in earnest for a response from her companion, though none seemed to be forthcoming.
She was just about to knock again, when abruptly, Elphaba looked down and noticed water seeping under the door. She took a step back in reflexive alarm, watching as it soaked into the rug near her boots. She looked back up at the door, feeling a cold wave of horror wash over her, and quickly began to pound on it with her fist.
"Glinda, open this door right now!" she yelled, and even tried the handle.
It was a relief to find it unlocked.
She quickly stepped into the darkness, splashing in small pools of water that covered the entire floor. The faint hint of sulfur hung in the air, combined with the metallic scent of the water. She reached up to turn the gaslights on, permitting white light to flood the entire room. The sight that greeted Elphaba was a lot for her to process at first, though she took it all in within a number of soul-shattering seconds.
Water was pouring out of the faucet. The tub had flooded over. And in the middle of the room lay Glinda's pale and lifeless body, crumpled awkwardly in a heap on the floor.
Time itself seemed to stop in that moment; or was it merely Elphaba's heart? It was impossible to describe the emotions running through her, and Elphaba scarcely had time to comprehend them herself. She rushed forward without thinking, reaching for Glinda and drawing back with a sharp hiss when her hands came into contact with wet skin. She clenched her fists and breathed deeply, trying to ignore the pain as she hunched down near her roommate in a panic.
"Glinda," she gasped, prodding the girl's face and shoulders with both of her hands. Glinda's head slumped backwards at Elphaba's pressing, revealing a ghastly display of claw-marks along her neck. Elphaba shrank back in horror, but wouldn't allow herself to feel the weight of it all just yet. The skin she touched was deathly cold, and the pulse at Glinda's throat was faint.
No…not like this. Not here… not now… Good hell, the bruises are all over her!
"Glinda," she breathed, holding her friend's face in her hands. "Glinda darling, wake up. Do you hear me? Wake up! You can't do this to me now… don't do this to me!"
A rough moan escaped Glinda's throat. Elphaba's breath quickened at the sound, and she even managed a brief smile when she saw her roommate slowly stirring to life.
"My sweet… my sweet… can you hear me?" said Elphaba, leaning forward.
The response was muffled, as Glinda hadn't quite regained consciousness yet.
Elphaba ran shaking fingers over her brow and frantically looked around the room. She had to get Glinda out of here; that was her first priority. She stood and stepped carefully over to the basin, reaching to turn the faucet off while avoiding the stream of water. The handles were freezing, so she could only guess how cold the water was. A few quick turns, and it trickled to a stop. Elphaba then began searching the room for a nearby towel and spotted the pair that Glinda had undoubtedly brought in with her. As she moved to yank them off the rack, she could see that Glinda was slowly becoming more aware of her surroundings and had started to violently shiver.
"Elphie?" Glinda whispered as her eyes fluttered open.
"Hush, dear," Elphaba murmured, hunching down next to Glinda and placing the towels over her. "We have to move you, and I'm going to need your help." She took hold of Glinda's hand and dried it with the towel before sliding it over her shoulder. "Can you put your arm around me and hold onto me tightly? Yes, just like that. Grab a hold of my coat if you have to, but don't let go. Now... lean up, right against me… I can't reach down into the water, dearest, you have to lean closer. Just a little higher up… there's a girl. Remember to keep a firm hold on me. I have to get you somewhere dry."
Elphaba slid her hands underneath and around Glinda's body, resting them on the towels that covered her slender frame. With a deep breath, she lifted her into her arms, feeling the strain on her back as well as the burn of the water seeping through. Glinda's head rolled back as she was lifted into the air, but she managed to lean forward as Elphaba finally steadied them. She unconsciously pressed her face into Elphaba's shoulder, and Elphaba tried not to wince when water started to seep through her coat. She was thankful, at least, that she'd kept it on when she'd returned to their room.
She carried Glinda out as quickly as she could manage, worried that she might lose her balance and slip on the wet floor. It had been a while since she'd tried to carry anyone like this, but Glinda thankfully weighed much less than Nessarose; proof of her roommate's withering health. The arm around her neck was appreciated as well, even if Glinda had little strength to offer her. Elphaba brought her close to the fire where she carefully set her on the chaise lounge that Glinda had added to their room last year.
"Here," she said, lowering her onto the seat and quickly scooting it near the fire. "Just lean back for a moment and I'll get you a blanket. Can you sit up for me? Good." Elphaba rushed over to grab her thickest blanket off of her bed and brought it back to wrap around Glinda's shoulders. The dark bruises along Glinda's arms and torso looked even more ghastly in the firelight, and Elphaba had to repress a shudder as she folded the blanket over her friend.
"Fire's too low," she muttered distractedly, and grabbed the poker to begin stoking the flames. "Keep rubbing your arms and your chest for me. We have to get you warm."
Once the fire was high and blazing, Elphaba turned to Glinda again and took her face in her hands. She gently pressed her eyelids open, looking for signs of dilation. "Does your head hurt? Is your vision blurry?"
"N-no…" said Glinda, tilting her head back slightly. "My head feels—I can't…"
"What happened?" said Elphaba, running her fingers around Glinda's skull. "Do you remember how you fell?"
Her friend seemed to shudder at the question. "I… I must have fainted…"
Elphaba nodded, then quickly stood up again. "I have to go get one of the heads of house. I'm no doctor, and I can't be sure if any serious damage has been done. We need to get you to the infirmary."
"No, you can't!" cried Glinda, suddenly horrified.
"I'll be back as soon as I can, dear, I promise. Just stay close to the fire and try not to fall asleep—"
"Elphie, no!" Glinda breathed, suddenly clutching her arm in a vice-like grip. "You can't tell anyone—they mustn't see me like this!"
"Glinda…"
"Please," she begged. "Please don't leave me again tonight! I can't be here alone. Just… just stay here with me—please Elphie. I promise you I'm alright."
Elphaba stared at her intently, watching the firelight gleam and flicker in the startled reflection of Glinda's gaze. She pursed her lips together in silent deliberation, warring once again with her own better judgment.
"I'll trust you then, shall I Glinda?" she said softly. "I wonder, though, if you could trust me in return. If I asked you, for example, to start being honest with me, would you tell me what I wanted to hear?"
Glinda seemed to understand what she was asking, as she was no longer capable of looking at her. She lowered her head in shameful guilt, but didn't let go of Elphaba's arm.
It was all the answer that Elphaba needed, and it made her more furious with Boq than before.
"No… of course you wouldn't," said Elphaba with a slight edge to her voice. She slid out of Glinda's grip and stalked over to her dresser, where she opened a drawer and began sifting through her belongings in frustration. "And why should you? It's not as if I've been standing here for the past two months—watching you kill yourself without being able to do a damn thing about it."
She managed to locate two small bottles with a roll of gauze, and pulled them out of her dresser drawer. She uncapped one of the bottles and poured its contents into her hand, expertly applying it to the burns on her palms. The ointment helped to numb the pain, but it couldn't soothe it completely.
"You don't eat," she continued, "you don't speak… you hide what are clearly signs of abuse, and all I can do is watch it happen… pretending that I don't care."
She rolled the gauze over her hands, tearing off pieces with a force that wasn't wholly necessary. "Boq is fed up, Morrible's been trying to wring answers out of me, and when I finally manage to work up the nerve to ask you about it, no explanation is forthcoming. I come home to find you lying unconscious in the bathroom, which may have been the longest most sickening moments of my life, and though I fear the worst has happened to you, you're still able to look me in the eye and tell me that nothing is wrong. It's incredible, really. This friendship has become the perfect farce."
Elphaba angrily shrugged off her coat and flung it on the ground before kicking her boots off and tossing them aside. She grabbed the other bottle and walked back towards Glinda, kneeling down in front of her to begin applying ointment to the angry-looking scars around her neck. She could see the fresh tears falling down Glinda's cheek, which only compounded her anger further; less with Glinda than with herself. A few moments passed of tense silence, with only the crackling fire to disturb them.
"If I told you," said Glinda slowly, "that I was responsible for Ama Clutch's illness, or even Dr. Dillamond's murder … what would you say to me? Would you believe me?"
Elphaba stopped and looked up at her companion, more startled to hear her speak than the meaning behind her words. "I'd say that your talents were being wasted here," she quipped as she continued massaging ointment into Glinda's skin. "Spreading diseases of the mind and committing murder? You'd do well working for the Wizard."
"Elphaba, please," Glinda pleaded, suddenly taking a hold of the green hand on her neck. "I'm being serious— if I told you that I was responsible, what would you say?"
Elphaba studied Glinda carefully, not quite sure where she was going with this. "Well," she said more thoughtfully, "knowing me, I suppose I'd want to know how and when it was done before moving on to the whys. Why, for example, would a charmingly naïve young girl from Gillikin want to slit her biology professor's throat in cold blood?"
Her friend leveled her with a cold, glassy stare. "I'm not naïve, Elphaba," she said quietly, almost cynically. "That's the first mistake you make. You only see this made-up little shell; never really guessing what secretly lies within."
Her roommate turned her gaze towards the fire as if searching for solace among the flames. The tired yet graceful slope of her profile reminded Elphaba of the Appleruian statues surrounding her great-grandfather's estate: broken, beautiful, and carved into lifelike portraits of grief. The dark rings under her eyes did nothing to diminish their perfect luster, nor could the slight hollow to her cheeks render her anything but elegant and refined. Even now, with damp hair clinging to her shoulders and fierce red marks along her neck, Glinda was beautiful.
What, indeed, lay beneath it all?
"Glinda," said, Elphaba, taking a hold of her roommate's battered hands. "You need to tell me what's wrong. We can't keep doing this to each other. I can't turn away this time and pretend as if I don't know what's going on; nor do I want to. I'm asking you to confide in me, because I sincerely want to help. You're confused—afraid. I understand this. What I don't understand is why you insist on holding back, particularly from me, of all people."
"But don't you?" cried Glinda, wiping the tears from her eyes in frustration. "Is it really so difficult to see? Just look at me, Elphaba! It's written across my skin; it's twisted itself around my heart. There's evil inside of me—something darker than you could ever imagine. Do you understand what it's like to know what I know, and to have to endure it alone?"
She shook her head and wept bitterly, clearly trying to sort through her emotions. Elphaba watched her, uncomprehending, but kept Glinda's hands in hers.
"Elphie," Glinda whimpered, entwining their fingers together, "you're the single most important person in the world to me; the only source of comfort I have left. Can you begrudge me my silence when the truth would only sicken you? Could you forgive me for that, if nothing else, because I so desperately need you?"
She reached up and touched Elphaba's face, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear with cold, quivering fingers. "I couldn't bear the thought of losing you. Just thinking about it terrifies me even now."
Elphaba didn't know what to say. Her blanketed cynicism usually made these sorts of declarations little more than laughable to her, but there was a frightening honesty in her friend's countenance that made her heart flutter; a sensation that she wasn't entirely used to.
"Then you should know how I feel," she said quietly, "because I don't want to lose you either."
Glinda closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, obviously trying to summon the courage to speak. "Do you promise me," she whispered, "that when I tell you the truth, you won't think ill of me, or refuse to speak to me again?"
"I think you already have enough self-loathing and guilt to blanket all of Oz, my dear. But if it helps, then yes. You have my word."
Glinda took a shuddering breath, then calmly met Elphaba's gaze. "Are you acquainted with the stories of the Familiar of Kumbricia?"
Elphaba arched an eyebrow. She had prepared herself to hear Glinda say any number of things, but that definitely wasn't one of them. "Vaguely," she said a bit warily. "They're a bit more obscure than traditional Ozian folklore, but that doesn't mean much of anything. You are referring to those sordid tales of the mainland women who went insane?"
"Not just insane," said Glinda darkly. "They were women who spread death and destruction; powerful enough to alter the elements, and bend the fates to their will. Women who could rewrite the course of history through sacrifice and fire—"
"—as they were supposedly all half-dragon, or some other such rot. Yes, I remember the stories now. What of them?"
Glinda's gaze never wavered. "What would you say if I told you that I thought I may be one of them?"
Elphaba stared openly at her companion, then burst into incredulous laughter.
"You don't believe me?" said Glinda, looking both angry and hurt.
"Well, I am beginning to think that you've gone insane," said Elphaba, "but what that has to do with some ridiculous old wives' tale is beyond me. The Kumbric Witch is nothing more than a myth, Glinda—and that includes all of her Familiars. Ozians were full of primitive superstitions during the turn of the century; it explains quite a lot of our folklore. When some mad woman sets fire to a village in Fanarra and kills over half of its inhabitants, people suddenly conjure up stories about how she must be the Kumbric Witch's pet. It's nonsense, my dear, and poorly moralized at that. How could you ever take it seriously?"
"How can you be so sure that it isn't true?" said Glinda earnestly. "How can you assign truth to something that has no shape or form?"
She thrust out her arms in front of Elphaba, exposing the violent marks along her skin. "Tell me…how do you explain these bruises all over my body? Do you think some silly lover did this to me? Do you imagine I did it myself? Because I can assure you, Miss Elphaba, that the truth is far more unsettling, no matter what those fools have been saying about me. I wake screaming in the middle of the night; feeling the hands of phantom demons upon me. Nightmares crawl faceless towards me into the dawn, twisting their fingers deep in my flesh while drawing blood to the surface. I can't understand it; I don't even know what it means! Am I being tormented by the living dead, or has an ancient madness consumed me as well? You're clever, Elphie, but there are things in this world that even you can't explain. These stories… these myths, however exaggerated they may be, they're based in some form of truth. You've said as much yourself. I may not know the reasoning behind it; all I know is that it's real."
They sat like that for a moment in silence. Elphaba looked down at the arms her roommate held in front of her, examining the marks more carefully. What Glinda had told her seemed more than a little fantastical, but she had to concede that the bruises looked too deep—too evenly formed for Glinda to have done them herself.
"This happens to you when you're asleep?" she asked.
"Asleep… awake… they've been bleeding together for weeks now," said Glinda despairingly.
Elphaba bit her bottom lip as she ran her fingers along Glinda's arm. "You shouldn't have hid these from me, Glinda. Imagined or not, something has clearly been hurting you."
"Or warning me," she said evenly, "that further harm is to come."
Elphaba raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"We've talked of sorcery before," said Glinda, adjusting the blanket around her again. "About its imperfections, and how our understanding of it is limited at best. We… conjure things with a few chosen words, or shift matter with a series of thoughts. Well, what if we had no control over it? What if some… some darker power within us was capable of bending the world to our will, as it did in these stories of the Familiars?"
Elphaba was more confused than she was before. "You're asking me if I believe if a person is capable of altering the world around them without knowing how they're doing it, or where the power is coming from?"
Glinda nodded.
"I'd say that was absurd, or bordering on religious; not that I've ever placed much distinction between the two. Magick isn't a rational discipline, but even sorcery has its own set of rules and limitations. We aren't just walking vessels of dark, incomprehensible powers."
"Really?" said Glinda. "Is that why Ama Clutch is suffering from an illness that I invented; a stupid disease that I completely made up?"
Elphaba blinked, now lost entirely. "What?"
"I made it up Elphie!" cried Glinda with a false laugh. "I said that she was mad and had a proclivity for speaking to inanimate objects… just to secure a room outside of the dormitories! It was the most ludicrous thing I could think of, yet there she lies in the infirmary, talking to nails and dying in her bed. How is that a coincidence? What other explanation can there be for it, other than I somehow willed her to be sick?"
"It's a bit odd, I'll give you that," said Elphaba thoughtfully. "I'd always wondered how you managed to trick Morrible into getting you out of the dorms. Fine, then. You're convinced that you hexed your Ama because you made-up some illness that she's now suffering from. Is that all there is to it?"
"No…" Glinda started, then suddenly lost her nerve. "It was more than that. It… it was something she'd said to me at the infirmary…that day we went to visit her. Something she would have known nothing about, or at least I'm certain she wouldn't have..."
"What?" Elphaba asked. "Startling family secrets? A past indiscretion of yours?"
"A memory," said Glinda blankly, "from my childhood. One that I've never told anyone before."
The crackling fire gave shape to the silence that surrounded them, filling the room with everything left unsaid. Glinda appeared to sink further within herself, but Elphaba was there to take her hands, unwilling to be shut out again.
"When… when I was younger," she began timidly, "there was a… boy. A young boy that lived with his grandfather on the far end of our family's estate. Rich in title; poor in wealth and affluence. His name… his name was Temen."
She faltered here, as if even the sound of his name was capable of causing her anguish. Elphaba brushed her thumbs over Glinda's fingers in silent encouragement, and Glinda slowly entwined them through Elphaba's, hoping to find her courage there.
"We spent every waking moment together," she continued, "chasing each other in the forest and inventing games as children are wont to do. We were sweethearts of a kind, I guess. Temen used to laugh and tell me that we would be married someday; how we would live in a castle and keep large white dragons for pets. He was my world back then. I loved him more than anything."
There was genuine sorrow in Glinda's voice, and a faraway look of wonder glistening in her eyes. It was so unguarded and beautifully sincere, that Elphaba was touched in spite of herself. Over the past year they had spent together, there were few moments where Elphaba witnessed a genuine thought or feeling expressed by her companion, whose sentiments were often as tailored as the dresses she wore. But those few moments of sincerity were always a revelation to her, and reminded her why she adored this girl so fervently.
Glinda closed her eyes suddenly, struggling to find the words to go on. "We… happened upon a path one day, when we were out chasing each other through the woods. Feeling adventurous, we decided to follow it, and stumbled across an abandoned old wood-mill that time seemed to have forgotten. The thing was a wreck, and horribly unsafe, but to two young children, it was the perfect playground for our imaginations. We decided that it was going to be our secret castle, hidden away from everyone and known only to ourselves.
"Well, one night in late highsummer, during the Solstice Festival, Temen convinced me to meet him there, thinking it would be fun to spend the evening telling ghost stories to each other. We took a lantern and wandered into the woods, hand in hand, to our enchanted broken castle. There had been a full moon that night, so it was easy to find our way. Once there, Temen insisted on a game of hide-and-seek, and I consented to be the one to find him."
Glinda stopped speaking. Her hands clenched Elphaba's as if she were in pain, little realizing the pain she was bestowing on a pair of recently burned ones. Elphaba chose to ignore it, however, concerned as she was at seeing Glinda so distressed.
"I… don't remember how it happened…" she said in a shaky voice, "which one of us had hung the lantern too precariously on the nail fastened to the wall. But when I managed to climb the stairs to the balcony railing in search of him, the lantern mysteriously fell and shattered, igniting in almost an instant."
Her hands started to shake again, and Elphaba pressed them more tightly than before.
"It was terrifying…" she whispered in horror, "terrifying to see how fast the flames could spread. It started at the foot of the stairway, trapping me from escape. The windows on the upper levels were all boarded up, you see, and there was no way out. So I started screaming, hoping that Temen would hear me, as smoke began to fill my lungs.
"There was… a small closet on the main floor; where Temen had hidden himself. The door must have locked on itself somehow, because when he heard me screaming, he started pounding on it with his fists. He yelled my name again and again, either in fear or in pain. The fire was spreading so quickly, you see, and we both appeared to be trapped. I lost my voice after some time, but Temen kept banging on the door, screaming my name like a lunatic."
Glinda took a deep breath, struggling to say what was obviously making her sick. "I don't know if it was the screams, or from smoke billowing up from the trees, but we managed to draw the attention of a passing farmer, who somehow forced his way into the building. He didn't see me at first; I was so high up, and I had no voice to call to him. Maybe I was in shock; it's difficult to say at this point. I just stood there watching, as if I'd lost control of my own body. But he heard Temen, and immediately headed over to the small closet, struggling to see through the smoke. Just as he was about to reach him, a portion of the roof caved in overhead, and the door was sealed by the wreckage. Temen was completely trapped in the closet. There was no way that the farmer could get to him."
Glinda sat there, unmoving, though Elphaba could see the pulsing veins beneath her skin. It was disturbing to see her so calm—so poised, as she took on the appearance of death itself.
"After that," Glinda continued, "and for no apparent reason, the farmer looked up and saw me staring at him from the balcony, huddled on the floor amidst the flames. He ran over and yelled for me to jump, even as the flames were pressing down on me. With whatever strength was left in my body, I jumped from the railing and into his arms, grasping him as tightly as I could. He ran out of the wood mill, holding me firmly, and a moment later, the whole building caved in on itself."
Firelight illuminated the soft contours of Glinda's face, making her appear more haunted and ethereal than she had before. "I watched it burn," she whispered softly as another small tear ran down her cheek. "The building… and Temen with it. His screams died with the last of the flames, and they've haunted me ever since. I don't remember much about what happened after that. I vaguely recall sitting in the farmer's home, wrapped tightly in a blanket and listening to him speaking to his wife in the next room. Most of their conversation was lost on me, but there was something I did manage to hear, and something I never forgot. 'Only one survived,' he'd said to her, 'but the other one burned.'"
The tears fell more freely down Glinda's face now, leaving damp streaks along her cheeks. "Ever since that day, I was convinced that somehow, by some unearthly means, I was the one responsible for killing him. That by dark powers unknown to me, I willed that roof to collapse, and I willed that farmer to see me— all so I could be the one to make it out of there alive. It's why I've never told anyone what happened that night, and why I was so shocked to hear Ama Clutch whisper those very words to me on her sick bed. She had no way of knowing, Elphie. How could she know it, unless there was some sinister truth to this power I possess?"
She turned to stare back into the fire, and a shadow crossed over her features. "I'm evil, Elphaba," she said emotionlessly. "This darkness in me is real. God or Hell is punishing me for it now, or preparing me for something even worse. It nearly killed me tonight, whatever it is, and I'm convinced that I'll continue to suffer until I'm finally dead."
The silence that followed her confession was almost deafening. Elphaba had scarcely allowed herself to move or breathe as Glinda narrated her horrific tale, but this disturbing revelation of her mistaken self-hatred was even more horrific for Elphaba to hear.
"Glinda," said Elphaba softly, "misplaced guilt and malicious intent are two very different things. I see what it is you're feeling, and I can only imagine what it must have been like to watch someone you love die at such a young age. But you didn't kill that boy, Glinda, and you certainly didn't trap him in that room. Sometimes fate is just cruel. We can't control everything."
"You don't know that," said Glinda, darkly. "You weren't there to see it."
"Well, I know that you didn't want him to burn to death. Why shouldn't that be enough to console you?"
"Because I didn't care!" sobbed Glinda miserably. "Don't you see, Elphie? The sin is my own wretched selfishness! I didn't care if that farmer could only get one of us out alive; I just wanted it to be me! I didn't want to die. When the roof gave out… when the farmer saw me above him… there was joy in my heart. Joy and elation, and the thought that I would survive. It wasn't until we had fled the mill that I felt the true horror of what had happened. I willed Temen's death, Elphaba, that's all there is to it. I was sure of it then, and I'm sure of it now. These living nightmares are proof of it."
"You're not looking at this objectively," said Elphaba firmly. "For goodness sake, Glinda, how can you fault a child for expressing an instinctual fear? We are born with a will to live and survive; it's as common to us as breathing. You cannot assume responsibility for someone's death simply because your conscience demands that you do so. Terrible things happen, both to good people and bad, and surviving that fire doesn't make you evil, nor does it mean you're gifted with dark powers like in some twisted fairytale. "
"But how can you be so sure?" said Glinda, suddenly leaning forward. "I hated Dr. Dillamond when I arrived here. I wished him nothing but ill-will. Isn't it possible that his murder may have had something to do with that? What if I willed someone to kill him; however sickening the thought may be?"
"If hating someone was all that it took to kill them, dearest, you would have had me murdered long ago," said Elphaba wryly.
"Well, what of Ama Clutch, then? How do you explain this illness of hers?"
"You invented it, Glinda… you didn't assign it to her. You never committed it to her, or her to it."
"And my dreams? My nightmares?" she went on. "How can they physically hurt me? Why must I see Temen night after night, burned and mangled beyond recognition? Why is there always a Woman who waits and watches from a distance; a creature that resembles the festering remains of the Kumbric Witch herself? What if these stories—these myths are real? No Elphaba, I mean it! Pretend for a minute that everything I've told you could be true! About the Familiars… about Ama Clutch… about everything! Put all of your reasoning and rationality aside and just pretend that this darkness inside me exists!"
She shook her head and turned away from Elphaba, suddenly unwilling to meet her gaze. "You once asked me what evil was, or what I thought it could be. But what if it's something real—something tangible? What if this evil is me?"
There was something so tragic in the way that she said it; so utterly and crushingly heartbreaking, that all Elphaba could do was kneel before her, silently contemplating this damaged young woman who had stolen her way into her heart. Glinda was so convinced—so blindly and utterly convinced of her own guilt that it was destroying her from the inside out. Even Elphaba, who was guilty of every conceivable transgression a father could think of, had never felt anything close to it.
"The nature of evil is difficult to define," said Elphaba quietly, "but I'd like to think that I've seen enough of it in my lifetime to recognize it for what it is. I've seen bodies of murdered women and children stretched across the badlands of Quadling Country, and I've watched a crowd of angry villagers beat an innocent man to death. I'd call that evil, as most others would, because there is an inherent wrongness I feel when I stare into its countenance for too long. But I don't see that it in you, Glinda, no matter how convinced you are that you're incapable of being good. The fact that you feel this pain so keenly is proof that it isn't—that it can't be real."
Glinda sighed, and wiped the tears off her face. "I don't know," she whispered. "There's just so much that I don't know. The dreams continue, our Ama still suffers, and I don't know how to stop any of it."
Elphaba drew in a deep breath and leaned back on her heels, wincing slightly as her sore muscles flexed in her back. The fire was starting to get low again, so she turned and placed another log on top of it. "Well, as far as illnesses go, it is something a bit out of the ordinary. I'm not convinced that you've hexed her just yet, but I suppose it's something we could look into in those sorcery textbooks of yours."
"You're determined to be logical about this," said Glinda, half disapproving, half affectionate.
"It's as much of a curse as my green skin," Elphaba replied with a smirk. "But I do wish you would have told me about this sooner, Glinda. Those idiot friends of yours should have been more forthcoming as well. Weren't Pfannee and Shenshen just as shocked as you were when they discovered what happened to Ama Clutch?"
"I never told anyone else about it," said Glinda, timidly. "Only Madame Morrible."
Elphaba turned to her with an inquisitive stare. "You only mentioned the illness to Morrible?"
Glinda nodded.
Elphaba stared down at her hands, momentarily lost in thought. "That night…" she began, "when Ama Clutch told us that she had seen something going on in Dillamond's lab, she never did tell us what it was. Could she have seen the murder, or possibly how it was done?"
A light suddenly clicked on in Elphaba's head. Possibilities and probabilities were spinning through her mind, forming a picture with all of this newfound knowledge her friend had given her.
"Morrible has been asking about you very specifically," she continued, standing up and beginning to pace the floor. "She asked me about you earlier this afternoon, wanting to know the nature of your symptoms and pressing me when she didn't agree with my answers…" She stopped right in front of the fire and looked down at her companion, who was staring at her in obvious confusion. "Glinda," she said suddenly, "is it possible that there are spells and incantations that could induce visions, or physically harm another person?"
Her friend stared at her. "It would be a bit more advanced than the spells I'm used to, but sure, I don't see why not."
Elphaba quickly knelt down in front of Glinda again, and took her hands in hers. "Then what would you say if I told you that I believed these nightmares that have been haunting you have nothing to do with books or fairytales, but someone who is decidedly mortal?"
Glinda looked skeptical. "I'm not sure I understand. Why would anyone wish to harm me, or go through all of this effort to do it?"
"Why indeed?" said Elphaba evenly. "Consider this: Ama Clutch was stricken with madness the morning after Dillamond's body was found. She was unable to reveal anything she had seen that night, nor could any of the nurses explain what had happened to her. Only two people were aware of the false nature of this illness, and if one of those people wanted the information kept secret, the easiest way of doing that would be to ensure the silence of the other; possibly by making her believe she'd gone insane."
Glinda suddenly leaned back. "No, Elphie! You can't possibly think that—"
"Why not?" said Elphaba. "The Headmistress of this university is a vile and conniving monster; a villain straight to her hideous core. You're damn well right I think she's behind this, and I'm convinced that she's placed one or both of you under a spell. Think about it, Glinda... when did these dreams of yours start? Why have these evil forces waited this long to start tormenting you? Do you think it's a coincidence that Ama Clutch wound up a bed-ridden lunatic the morning after the Goat's murder—suffering from an illness that only you and Morrible knew about? Well I don't believe in coincidences, my dear, and I think there's more to this than we're aware of. She saw something that night, Glinda; you know it and I know it. And if anyone had the power to silence her, it would be Madame Morrible."
Glinda was trying to process everything that Elphaba had told her, and shuddered beneath her blanket. "But… what good would that do me, either?" she said nervously. "I mean… if you're right, Elphaba, and she has cursed us, what could I possibly do to stop it?"
"I'm not sure," said Elphaba pensively. "But we'll find that out together."
"No," Glinda stammered. "I won't have you getting involved in this, Elphaba. Morrible could be dangerous— no, I know that she's dangerous. If she finds out that you know the truth, she might—"
"Glinda," said Elphaba, pressing a green hand against her cheek, "we do this together. I don't know what Morrible has planned for you, and I don't know what else you're going to have to face. But I can promise you that I am going to move heaven and hell to try and stop it. You don't have to do this alone anymore."
She reached down and took hold of Glinda's hands again, grateful to find them warm. Her friend looked back at her with an expression troubled between fear, uncertainty, and even guarded hope. Glinda knew she was fighting a losing battle with Elphaba, and it was evident that she was unsure if it was a battle worth fighting in the first place. She looked down at their hands joined together and traced Elphaba's palm with her fingertips, almost as if she'd suddenly realized what had happened to them.
"Your hands…" she whispered.
"It looks worse than it is, I assure you," said Elphaba off-handedly. "You're lucky, though; drenching yourself in water isn't the best way to endear yourself to me. I had half a mind to leave you there on the floor. So the next time you feel like fainting, I suggest you do it on drier ground, otherwise I'll be sending Boq in to rescue you."
Glinda seemed to miss the gentle humor in Elphaba's voice. She continued to lightly trace around the bandages, studying them with a pained intensity that tore at Elphaba's heart. Then, very slowly, she lifted Elphaba's hand in hers and pressed her lips softly against the exposed skin of Elphaba's left palm. She lingered there for what seemed like an eternity, captured in the smallest breadth of only a few passing seconds.
Elphaba had suddenly stopped breathing. The slight pressure of her friend's lips on her skin touched every wakening nerve in her body, causing a dryness in her throat that had nothing to do with a thirst for wine. The pain from her burns briefly softened to a tingling numbness, beginning and ending where Glinda's kiss met her palm. It left her feeling lost. Drained, even.
And strangely very warm.
When Glinda drew back, Elphaba placed her hand on her cheek again, watching attentively as her friend leaned into it.
"We'll survive this," said Elphaba quietly. "We'll find a way, come hell or high water."
She felt Glinda begin to tremble beneath her hand; finally surrendering every fear that had consumed her for the past two months. Elphaba reached for her at the same moment a pair of bruised arms wrapped themselves tightly around her neck. It was impossible to say who had initiated the embrace, and it didn't seem to matter. Elphaba simply held her, willing whatever there was of her own strength into the quivering girl in her arms. How long they sat there clinging to each other was uncertain, as neither seemed anxious to break this new and fragile contact.
Slowly, eventually, Glinda began to calm, and her body ceased its trembling.
"Thank you," she whispered, her lips pressed lightly against Elphaba's neck.
The words made Elphaba shiver, combined with the feel of those lips on her skin again. A sudden and unexpected awareness of her proximity to Glinda's partially-exposed flesh crept over her, making Elphaba's pulse quicken. In all of the panic that had ensued when she'd returned to their rooms that night, she hadn't had much time to contemplate the event of seeing Glinda in a state of undress, much less having to touch her. It wasn't as though Elphaba was embarrassed by it; growing up with a physically dependent younger sister had deprived her of any modesty. But with Glinda, it was a different experience altogether; something Elphaba noted as her hand trailed softly down the smooth, uncovered skin of her roommate's back. Gradually, she became more and more conscious of the form that held her; the arcs and curves pressed so innocently against her own. It brought on a surge of feeling more powerful and dangerous than before, and it made her prodigiously uncomfortable.
Awkwardly, and very unwillingly, she slid out of Glinda's embrace, making sure to direct her gaze elsewhere while her friend rearranged the blanket again.
"It's getting late," said Elphaba thickly, turning towards the fire. "I think we should let this die down for the night, unless you're still cold?"
"I'm fine, thank you," said Glinda shyly. "I think I'm sore more than anything else."
"We should go to bed," said Elphaba, then blushed quickly. "Or… that is… you should really get some rest."
"Oh no," said Glinda, shaking her head. "I can't do that, Elphie. That's impossible."
"Darling, look at me," said Elphaba. "Look at me. It's been far too long since you've had a decent night's sleep, and I'm not going to let you stay up half the night, driving yourself crazy."
"But—"
"Do you trust me?" said Elphaba evenly.
Glinda sighed. "Of course I trust you."
"Then trust me when I tell you that I'm not going to let anything happen to you tonight." She held out her hand, waiting for Glinda to take it, and pulled the girl up from the small chair. Elphaba directed her over to her own unmade bed, and sat Glinda down on the sagging mattress.
"I want you to sleep here tonight; see if that makes a difference," she said. Elphaba quickly walked over to her roommate's side of the room, where she opened one of Glinda's drawers to find a warm nightgown. "And if you're still concerned," she continued, pulling the nightgown out and bringing it over, "I'm going to stay up for the rest of the night in this chair, watching you like a hawk. The minute anything comes close to hurting you, I promise to wake you up. Does that sound fair?"
Glinda seemed doubtful, but slowly nodded her head.
"Here," said Elphaba, holding out the nightgown. "You might want to put this on."
Her roommate bit her lip anxiously. "Could you… would you help me with it? My left side is a bit more sore than I thought. I think my ribs may be bruised."
Elphaba stiffened, a bit unprepared for the request, and felt the same dryness in her throat again. "Lift up your arm," she said in a voice that didn't sound anything like her own.
Glinda quietly obeyed, letting the blanket fall down her shoulders as she lifted an arm above her head. Elphaba bunched the material of the nightgown up and over her, gently sliding her arms through the fabric while desperately trying not to stare at anything for too long.
"There," she said quietly. "Now get under the covers before you freeze again. We'll have to see about getting one of the maintenance workers in here tomorrow to mop up the bathroom." She pulled the blankets more neatly over Glinda as her friend stretched out under the covers. Once satisfied that she was comfortable, Elphaba turned to get some towels out of the linen basket, when Glinda suddenly grabbed her arm.
"Sleep with me tonight," she whispered, clutching Elphaba tightly.
Elphaba looked down at her, now more terrified than ever. "You don't trust me to stay awake?"
"No… it's just that…" Glinda took a deep breath. "If the nightmares return… if I wake in the darkness and there are hands on me… I want to know… it would be nice to know that they're yours."
Nice. That was an interesting word for it.
Elphaba sighed, and gently squeezed her hand. "Alright, then."
Glinda smiled in apparent thanks before letting go of her, then pulled Elphaba's blankets more tightly around her frame.
Elphaba headed towards the towels in the linen basket, grabbing everything that was left. She then made her way over to the washroom entrance where she began laying them carefully on the floor. She hoped this would soak up some of the water, though the tub would have to stay full for the night. After spreading out the last of them, she switched off the gaslights and quietly returned to the bedroom. There, Elphaba changed into her nightgown, feeling more self-conscious than she'd ever felt before.
Once she was dressed, Elphaba took a deep, calming breath and climbed into bed next to her companion. The candle was snuffed out with a short wisp of breath, then Elphaba leaned back on her pillow. She'd thought to keep a respectable distance at first, not quite sure what sleeping position would be appropriate. But Glinda obviously had other ideas as she turned and wrapped her arms around her, giving Elphaba what was undoubtedly her fifth heart-attack that night.
"Wake me if they come," she whispered so faintly that Elphaba had to strain to hear her.
"I will," Elphaba whispered back, wrapping her arm more comfortably around Glinda. "Sleep for now. We'll see each other in the morning."
"Goodnight, Elphie," said Glinda softly.
"Goodnight, Glinda," she replied.
After only a short period of time, the soft sounds of Glinda's breathing fell into the steady rhythm of slumber, which Elphaba was extremely grateful for. Noisy laughter and heavy footfalls filled the corridors outside their room, where the chattering residents of Crage Hall had obviously returned home for the evening. But Glinda remained sleeping, pressed so closely against her, and Elphaba gently ran her fingers through Glinda's hair, firmly adamant that she wasn't going to sleep a wink that night.
And in the darkness, with her friend's arms around her, Elphaba had to concede that this was nothing like holding Nessarose.
It was nothing like it at all.
A/N: Well, now that the big ol' chapter of doom and exposition is over and done with, permit me to take a time-out to send some holiday wishes and extra love to all of my readers and reviewers who have been following along with this story. I rarely imbibe, so forgive me for the self-indulgence.
Reviewers: You guys are AWESOME. Thank you so much for taking the time to leave me a little feedback and letting me know how you're digging the crazy thus far. I'm glad you seem to be enjoying this as much as I am, and I hope that future updates will be just as amusing and/or horrifying to you. =D
Readers: Glad to have you along for the ride, and I'd love to hear your thoughts! Criticisms are every bit as appreciated as the compliments, as my goal here is to become a better writer. So if you have the time, do let me know what you think! I actually do respond to comments, as I love chatting with readers. =)
We still have a ways to go with this, but the fun is just beginning. (Did that sound ominous enough?) In the meantime, I hope you all have some happy holidays and enjoy yourselves this weekend!