An Article of Faith
"This is why you shouldn't fall in love, it blinds you.
Love is wicked distraction."
-Wicked, 253
The search for Glinda had gone on for the better part of the night. It had been, for all intents and purposes, one of the lengthiest, most misguided investigations ever conducted by a group of people who claimed to know anything regarding law enforcement. Though the rain had made it impossible to discern any semblance of a trail, much of the delay was solely to be blamed on the ineptitude of campus officials.
It was only at Nanny's most vocal pressing that a few grounds staff were dispatched to investigate her charge's sudden disappearance. Reluctant as they were to jump at the old woman's hysterics, it was suggested that the girl was mentally unwell and could pose a danger to herself or others if she wasn't immediately discovered. An hour later they started their search, mumbling curses and making quips about the ripe little chit who was "getting it off" somewhere in the dormitories of Briscoe Hall. Unhappily, the affair became far more serious when they happened upon a ladder propped up in the vegetable garden near one of the sheds. It bore the torn hem of a nightdress, soaked with rain and possibly blood though the stains were too washed-out to tell. An alert was sounded, security was dispatched, and a runner was sent to the Headmistress' quarters to notify her of the situation.
A cursory investigation had already begun, though little could be seen or discovered under the pouring sheets of rain. By the time the storm had trickled into a mist, any evidence of the girl's whereabouts had long since washed away.
The resident police force was eventually contacted near five o' clock in the morning, and what began was another lengthy examination of the evening's convoluted particulars. Was this supposed to be a kidnapping charge? What of the particulars? Could her roommate account for her previous whereabouts at such-and-such a time? And what of the girl's mental condition? Could Nanny describe the nature of her malady? Details were drilled over and beaten to death as the sergeant-at-arms sipped blithely from his coffee.
Nanny was furious, but she calmed down considerably when he assured her a group of seasoned officers would be dispatched with lanterns and bloodhounds to search the surrounding area. A few would also be sent to Crage Hall to question the roommate and any remaining witnesses. His assurances, unfortunately, were effected much more smoothly than the investigation itself. It was at least another hour by the time the officers arrived near the Shiz campus grounds.
The process had been slow and maddeningly ineffectual. Little had been accomplished in the five or six hours since the officials had first been notified. And when they eventually found Glinda's body in the frozen hours of dawn, she was lying in a ditch some miles outside of the campus grounds, half-dead from exposure.
News of the incident spread like wildfire across the Shiz campus. Word was that a girl from Crage Hall was being brought to the infirmary after a mysterious disappearance sometime in the middle of the night. What had happened to her? Was she still alive? How had the officers found her? Details were scarce, though the one thing that was unequivocally confirmed was that the victim in question was Miss Glinda Arduenna.
A crowd of spectators had already gathered outside of the Felque Infirmary, wearing coats and hand-knit scarves to ward off the blustery weather. All at once, the murmur of the crowd rose to an uneasy volume as they watched a cart roll forward carrying the bundled body of Miss Glinda. Whispers and rumors carried excitedly over the inquiring assembly with every suggestion indicating that they believed the girl was a stark-raving lunatic.
"Can you believe it?" came one of the voices somewhere in the throng. "It's the girl who had a fit in Professor Syft's classroom. Lurline, she looks like she's dead!"
"Miss Glinda Arduenna? The girl that attacked that boy from Briscoe Hall?"
"That's the one. She's friends with the Thropp girls if that tells you anything. Look! The green one's standing over there! Beside the building… look!"
"They said she was covered in a filthy blanket, all torn up in the mud."
"Gracious... the poor thing's probably been violated, if not something worse. Whatever was she doing in the rain? Some demented pagan ritual?"
"Miss Pfannee told us that Miss Glinda's gone crazy—that she's been hurting herself."
"Well I heard that Madame Morrible has been talking to the staff about her behavior. The girl is wild. Apparently she's been having violent fits in class."
"It's all a sad cry for attention... nothing more than that. Apparently she was scorned by the little Munchkin boy when she tried to seduce him over their summer holidays."
"The staff should definitely have her committed. She's obviously worse than we suspect."
"You're assuming, of course, that she's going to live through this. If you ask me, she's already dead..."
The chatter continued, frivolous as it was, as officials filed in and out of the building.
At the crowd's edge and close to the entrance, Elphaba stood behind a line of officers casually positioned at the scene. Few people were actually paying any attention to her, which was something of a marvel in-of itself. A cloak and hat helped to disguise the green, but she'd forgotten to bring her gloves. When they brought Glinda's body out and carried it into the building, her hands curled up in severe agitation, practically going white at the wrist.
Everyone was right. Glinda looked dead. What visible skin that Elphaba could see had turned a ghastly blue. Her heart collapsed just at the sight of it, and she fought to keep her legs from giving out on her.
"Clear back," shouted one of the officials. "Leave some room for these gentlemen!"
The press of workers, spectators and students shifted at his command.
A matronly member of staff from the infirmary was speaking to Madame Morrible. Nanny was still shouting at one of the officers who was trying his best to calm her. Information was infuriatingly scarce, and nobody was telling Elphaba anything. It was all she could do to stop herself from breaking through to find out what was happening.
A warm hand suddenly pressed against her own. Elphaba turned and saw Fiyero standing there beside her. The look on his face was exceedingly grim, and she imagined it must have mirrored her own. But he wasn't here to ask her questions; he was here because he knew. She tightened her hand fiercely around his as they turned their gaze back towards the building.
Beneath the garish rays of sunlight, Elphaba managed to catch Morrible's eye rather unintentionally. There was a glint—a gleam— like the fine point of a razor scraping finely against her skin. She watched as her mouth curled up at the corner— almost but not quite a smile. It sliced brutally into Elphaba's flesh like the serrated edge of a knife.
It was the moment that everything fell beneath animosity's veil. The meaning was clear for Elphaba to hear…
Why yes, dear girl. You failed.
It would be some time before Elphaba was given the opportunity to see her roommate. All visitations had been marked off limits for the remainder of the day. Glinda's condition was described as critical, and the infirmary staff couldn't be bothered to handle distractions from overly fussing peers. In any event, most of the commotion had subsided once Glinda had been admitted.
While the nurses had managed to bring her temperature back to a healthier, more stable level, an intense fever was starting to set in that left Glinda practically comatose. She was taken to a room on the second story level that was sparsely occupied with patients. Elphaba was permitted to hover near the door, watching quietly as the staff attended her in a cool, dispassionate manner. Glinda's body would twitch and tremble with every irregular breath. They placed cool towels neatly on her forehead while effectively treating her wounds.
The extent of the damage Glinda had sustained was of considerable note: torn skin, a twisted ankle, and shallow cuts all over her. Between the severe hypothermia and fever that wracked through her feeble body, it was nothing short of a perfect miracle that Glinda was even alive. Bandages had been wrapped on her hands and arms as well as both of her legs. The nurses would often have to redress them when they became soaked with perspiration.
Elphaba watched with slight disbelief as the staff continued their treatments— the way they touched her with so little feeling, or how their gaze would pass over her. She didn't think it was humanly possible for anyone to be so aloof. Didn't those cold and callous hands realize who they were mending?
At some point after the sky had grown dark and the orderlies had all cleared out, one of the remaining nurses on call permitted Elphaba to see her. Though they weren't normally in the habit of breaking orders under the headmistress' mandate, the nurse had built up something of a rapport with Elphaba during her visits to Ama Clutch over the past few months. It was clear she had taken pity on her, even if she couldn't comprehend a fraction of what Elphaba was feeling. All she asked was that Elphaba remained quiet and tried not to disturb the other patients.
When Elphaba slowly approached her bed, it was not without some difficulty. The closer she came to that feverish body, the more completely she felt the weight of her guilt crushing all of the life out of her. What a fool she was. How could she have been so maddeningly naïve? Did she honestly believe they could match wits with Morrible and come out of the battle unscathed? She had tried so hard… she had worked for so long… yet here, Glinda lay dying. A frightening stillness had taken hold of her body in the earlier hours of the night.
Elphaba quietly took a seat on the chair beside her bed. The faint glow of a burning candle reflected the pallid features of her friend. It allowed Elphaba the opportunity to study her more closely than the morning had allowed. Her hand reached up and settled softly over Glinda's beating heart.
It felt so faint; where was the pulse that had fervently matched her own? A finger slowly traced the rise of Glinda's neck and slipped over a mark near her throat. It was just a little bruise to the skin, hardly noticeable to anyone. But Elphaba knew it intimately as she pressed it beneath her fingertips—fingers that once had custody over Glinda's softest skin.
She remembered something her father had said to her on an evening back in the Kells. They'd been sitting together on their porch near the swampland, watching the sun lazily setting beyond the western hills. Love isn't blind, my little Fabala, he'd spoken warmly to her. It sees every imperfection and every beauty, and accepts them with equal measure.
She'd never been certain what he was talking about, though it obviously hadn't been her. He could have been referring to the primal sunset, blazing over the rose-colored clouds with a rich ochre hue. Or perhaps he had been referring to little Nessarose, who had been laughing cheerfully at a tiny frog she'd discovered hopping in the mud.
Still… his words had touched something in her that meant more than any of his godly proverbs. It was the idea that love was meant to be imperfect, even if our hearts might convince us otherwise. You don't watch the world with an expectation for something that doesn't exist; you simply hold out the hope that someone could love you in spite of yourself.
Elphaba observed the cuts and bruises fixed along Glinda's skin; her golden hair slicked back on her head, soaked with feverish sweat. She had never looked more sickly and unkempt than she did at that very moment; a far cry from the Frottican beauty who stole the breath out of every fool who dared to cross her path. To Elphaba, however, she had never looked more beautiful, if only because Elphaba was watching her through the eyes of a girl in love. She saw every imperfection as clearly as that sunset she had shared that night with her father. All she wanted was to embrace those imperfections from every moment onward. That she couldn't hold Glinda now, so far away from their room, wounded her beyond comprehension.
Faint sounds of rustling fabric could be heard in the surrounding silence. Elphaba guessed it was the attending nurse coming back to check Glinda's vitals. She lowered her hand and pressed it firmly against Glinda's own. When she turned to look up, she beheld a figure standing beside her in a weathered cloak. Elphaba didn't have much time to be alarmed, for the hood was pulled back to reveal the disheveled features of her erstwhile friend, Master Boq. His hair was rumpled, his glasses were off, and he looked as though he had downed a cask of poisoned Kellswater from the lake.
His eyes found Glinda first and foremost with a fixed and consuming intensity. His complexion paled in the dim light of the candle, and his throat tightened visibly beneath the skin. He sat down wordlessly in the chair beside her as he seemed further unable to stand. Elphaba briefly regarded the boy with a numb, almost foreign expression. She hadn't really had time to prepare herself for his inevitable justified scolding. But if Boq had come with a superior 'I told you so'hanging on his lips, he'd lost heart the minute he'd entered the room and observed Glinda's countenance.
He could have said anything. He could have blamed Elphaba for this even happening in the first place. Didn't I tell you? Didn't I say she was unwell? Why didn't you listen to me when you had the chance?
But Boq chose to say nothing at all, contrary to every expectation. He preferred, instead, to place his hand on Elphaba's that was still pressed warmly against Glinda's. It wasn't surrender, and it wasn't forgiveness; it was simply everything he had left in him. Right or wrongs didn't matter when dealing with a reality that was beyond their power to change. Broken hearts were broken hearts, no matter their size or shape.
Elphaba brought her other hand up and placed it on top of his. It wasn't surrender, and it wasn't forgiveness; it was simple, imperfect love.
They sat there together for quite some time, leaning quietly against each other as the night grew darker still. It was, perhaps, the first time in their lives that Elphaba and Boq completely understood what the other was feeling.
Time passed in the infirmary wing with little to no sign of improvement. Glinda's fever had firmly settled in, and it left her in a state of delirium.
Physicians and nurses would occasionally file in, keeping notes, examining her vitals, and intermittently changing her dressings. Madame Morrible would often consult with them while checking on Glinda's condition. It was poor news for the select few who were clinging anxiously to any hope of improvement— hope that their friend, their charge, and companion would live to see another dawn.
Elphaba kept an earnest vigil beside Glinda's bedside. She had disregarded her classes entirely as well as her regular sleep and eating habits. No one seemed to object to her presence, and even if they did, good luck trying to move her. When Morrible visited, both of them visibly went out of their way to avoid contact with each other.
Nanny would visit whenever she could, though Nessarose preoccupied much of her time and had obviously refused to see Glinda. Elphaba wasn't going to complain, and in truth, she preferred the seclusion. It gave her time to think on things and contemplate her failures. The constant self-punishment was rather cathartic when it wasn't destroying her.
She'd promised Glinda that she would save her—where had it all gone wrong? Perhaps Nessarose was right after all, though Elphaba was loathe to admit it. She had obviously taken on too much to handle, and had destroyed Glinda in the process. She could live with the knowledge that she had been wrong if Glinda wasn't suffering for it. They were some of the blackest moments in her life, and indeed, among the most painful, but within those hours of darkest despair, Elphaba was not alone. Her charmed circle of close companions had embraced her with warmth and love, and Elphaba knew, in light of the situation, it was more than she deserved.
They had gathered together near Glinda's bedside on a cold and rainy morning, anxious to share their grief with each other in the hopes of finding some comfort. Crope and Tibbett flanked either side of Elphaba, each with a reassuring arm wrapped around her. Boq was seated on the opposite side of the bed, and Avaric stood behind him with a comforting hand on his shoulder. Fiyero sat pensively near the foot of the bed, his hands clasped in front of his chin, his elbows resting on the bed frame. It was the first time the boys had been allowed to visit the infirmary without having to sneak in after hours.
If sheer will could have brought Glinda back, they each of them would have healed her. They had come together in the face of this tragedy and had proven themselves noble men. Crope pressed Elphaba tightly against him. Tibbett did the same. Every face had adopted a similar and painfully somber expression.
Voices drifted down the hall, headed in their direction. The chatter was familiar and could only be coming from the female contingent of their friends.
"This building is disgusting," came one of the voices; most distinctly Pfannee's. "I swear to you I'm not entering that room if there's a horrid smell."
"Goodness gracious… would you keep your voice down? They're sick, you ninny— they're not deaf!"
"Tell that to the troll in the corner over there who's drooling into her porridge."
When the girls eventually came through the doorway, they were surprised to see all of their friends there. "Boq!" said Milla with some astonishment. "We didn't know you'd be here."
"Well isn't this a perfect picture!" said Pfannee, smiling brightly. "I can't believe you boys came calling and didn't think to invite us! I suppose we shall just have to be offended unless you can offer an apology. We might have arrived earlier and joined you for breakfast in the arts foyer."
No one moved or said anything. Elphaba hadn't even turned. Boq eventually stood up from his chair and said resolutely, "Get out."
Pfannee stepped back in utter shock. "I beg your pardon?"
"Are you going deaf?" said Crope brusquely. "He just told you to get the hell out."
"How dare you?" she shouted with perfect incredulity. "Could you speak more coarsely to a lady?"
"I certainly can, and I definitely will, so I suggest you leave before I'm forced to remove you from this room myself."
All eyes were turned in Pfannee's direction with the sole exception of Elphaba's. Pfannee was reeling from the insult leveled at her and placed a hand on her breast. "You wouldn't dare," she said, aghast. "You're a rake for even suggesting it. Why, you're even less of a gentleman than you are a man by nature, Crope!"
"Oh, go and fuck your self-righteous airs," said Tibbett, getting to his feet. "This isn't a social gathering, you pig—Glinda is close to dying. So if you're here to soak up the news for your homely little chums at Crage Hall, you can turn around now before you embarrass yourself further. I'm not above shoving you out the door."
The room fell into awkward silence as Pfannee opened and closed her mouth in perfect, scandalized horror. Her gaze traveled over everyone in the room, though Elphaba still kept her back to her. Even Avaric watched her with indifference, preferring to say nothing on the subject. He was there for Boq if not for Glinda, and he wasn't interested in much else.
Pfannee turned and left the room with less composure than she might have liked. Shenshen stood helpless as she watched her leave, seemingly uncertain about whether to follow her. As she turned to make a self-conscious exit, Milla roughly grabbed her arm, holding her firmly in place.
"Your friend is sick," she said evenly. "That's enough, Shenshen. We're staying."
She glanced at Boq with an earnest expression, obviously seeking his permission. He held out his hand and beckoned them over to come and sit beside him. Milla joined him with a trembling Shenshen practically on the verge of tears. Seeing Glinda in such a gruesome state had evidently confirmed both of their fears.
They remained together for the rest of the hour as they watched over their ailing friend. Very little was whispered or spoken as if a spell had cast them into silence. Indeed, their charmed circle of companions had never seemed so defeated. But there was love enough between them all to keep their spirits alive.
Little was left in the advent of dawn that offered any assurance of hope. Everything had all but fallen to ruin when Glinda took a turn for the worst that night.
It started with a delirious fit that caused her to thrash and cry out. Several able-bodied nurses were summoned to come in and hold her down. Her fever had reached a deadly high and her body was starting to convulse. The spasms continued with mounting violence before quieting down into a deathly stupor several hours before sunrise. Her condition was such that the physicians professed that nothing more could be done for her. They had seen this before. They knew what was coming.
It was only a matter of time.
The school sent out a communication to Frottica via the early post as her parents were to be notified as soon as possible of their daughter's failing condition. Everyone said her fate now rested in the hands of the Unnamed God, and to some, a swift death would be considered a blessing from the divine hand of providence.
In all of this, Elphaba scarcely left the bedside of her ailing friend. She hardly moved. She hardly breathed. The hours passed by without notice. Her hand clutched Glinda's as if it were an anchor to what little remained of her sanity. Visitors occasionally came and went, but Elphaba said nothing to them.
Boq came as often as he was permitted and occasionally when he wasn't. Both he and Fiyero had joined her that morning at the beginning of regular visiting hours. The pair talked in low, solemn voices so as not to disturb Elphaba, though neither was sure if she was even aware that they were sitting on either side of her.
When the sound of footsteps was heard down the hall, both of them turned and looked up. Nanny hastily entered the room, followed closely by Nessarose. The gentlemen stood as the ladies approached and offered them polite greetings. Nanny was unfazed by the presence of either of them. Elphaba still remained seated.
"Oh Lurline," said Nanny with a sob as she stared down helplessly at Glinda. "The poor dear looks even worse than before! Is she taking fluids at all?"
"She's been unresponsive," said Fiyero softly, "but the nurse should return again soon."
"It's simply ghastly. She shouldn't be here. She should be resting with her family at home."
"Master Boq?" said Nessa, interrupting. "Master Fiyero? Could you excuse us for a moment?"
The two exchanged looks and glanced down at Elphaba before kindly nodding their heads. "Certainly, Nessa. We'll be out in the hall should you or Elphie need us."
"And you too, Nanny," said Nessa firmly. "I'd like to speak to Elphaba alone."
Nanny looked like she wanted to argue, but there was little use in arguing with Nessa when she used that tone of voice. More than likely she was aware that the sisters had probably quarreled recently. "I'll just pop out and get you some food then," she said with a weary nod. Patting Nessa on the back, she turned and followed Boq and Fiyero as they all exited the room.
Nessa looked down in startling diffidence before taking the chair next to her sister. She kept a careful distance from Elphaba while sitting as close as she dared. Elphaba made no move to acknowledge her, but kept her eyes trained forward. The two remained seated in awkward silence before Nessa cleared her throat.
"I've been thinking about things for the past few days," she began after a few minutes had passed. "Ruminating on much of you what you said to me, and the implications that lie therein. I won't pretend that your words didn't hurt me, or that I've thought kindly of you since you've left. I felt that you had done me wrong, Elphaba, and I've spent much of my time in devout meditation —asking the Unnamed God for guidance and wisdom in this matter. For hours I've prayed and waited for a sign, hoping that divine enlightenment might come upon me. A spiritual experience or manifestation that could calm and strengthen me."
Nessa paused, then sighed deeply, possibly for dramatic effect.
"There was no answer to my prayers, Elphaba," she finally spoke, her expression turning grim. "No heavenly manifestation that made its presence known; no enlightenment that enriched my senses. I was confused and disappointed, though it should be said that unanswered prayers are often more meaningful than those that God seems to hear. And He heard mine, I know that well enough, but I didn't know why I was unable to be comforted. The longer I prayed, and the longer I waited, the more certain I became that the Unnamed God was displeased with me for some reason.
"And then last night, while I waited in bed for sleep to come upon me, a distant memory crept into my mind of a place I had long forgotten."
Her tone was actually lighter now—somewhat other-worldly. Her eyes were fixed on a far- away place that caused them almost to shimmer. "There was an old oakhair tree that grew on the side of the sloping redrock cliffs. I think you might remember it… out on the eastern part of the Kells. The Quadling children would always climb it as high up as it would go. I used to wonder what it must have been like… to view everything in God's creation from so spectacular a height. But I had no arms to climb the tree, and father would never have taken me up there. It was much too dangerous—much too high."
Elphaba could hear the tears in her voice, though she still had yet to move. Nessa didn't appear to be waiting for her to do anything different.
"You must have seen me, or known what I was thinking; how I longed to ascend to the clouds. You picked me up and strapped me to your back. 'We're going to climb the tree,' you'd said. And climb the tree you did. I can't image the time you must have had trying to carry me up there. But you managed it all branch by branch, even when it seemed like we wouldn't make it. And when we made it to the top of the tree, it was more wonderful than anything. We shared an apple and listened to the birds—I felt like we were near heaven."
Nessa looked up and stared at the ceiling, as if she could see straight through it. Was she looking up at those familiar heavens, or merely contemplating their nature?
"Father took us to the river that night where the Quadling children were playing," she continued. "The water was cool and refreshing to sit in, but I couldn't bear to be in it. I couldn't take my eyes off you—you were sitting up on the bank. I guess I'd never thought much about you, watching us play in the water. It was something that you could never be a part of, no matter how much you'd longed for it.
"So I said to myself, I'll find a way to carry her into the water with me. I wanted it more than I ever wanted to climb that stupid tree."
Her tears were far more noticeable now, as was her tightness of breath. She took a moment to compose herself before she began again.
"I don't suppose I'll ever convert you, Elphie, and I doubt I'll ever find a way to bring you into the water. You may never discover the worth of the soul, and it's highly unlikely you'll ever see me standing alone by myself. But I'm willing to try, Elphaba… I can promise you that. I'm willing to try for you. If perfection is unattainable in this life, maybe love will just have to do."
Nessa leaned over the tiniest bit and rested her head on her shoulder. "We're not so different, you and I, and it's what I love about you the most. I would suffer a lifetime of your blasphemies and anger as long as I had you close. You won't need to hold or carry me up, and you won't have to take care of me. Just promise you'll stand beside me, Elphie. We just might save each other yet."
Nessa lingered a little bit longer before lifting her head off of Elphaba's shoulder. It was awkward and clumsy the way she wriggled to get up out of her chair. She warily leaned forward to gain her balance, then carefully straightened her body. Elphaba didn't move a muscle while her sister got to her feet.
Nessa carefully walked past Elphaba over to the other side of the bed. Her movements were stiff and slightly inelegant as she was devoid of her favorite shoes. She looked down at Glinda with saintly resolve and a surprising depth of compassion. Then, in an act of immense concentration, she slowly leaned over her dying figure and placed a kiss on her forehead.
Her eyes were closed and her breath was unsteady, but still she held her pose.
"Our beloved creator who hath no name, this hour we beseech thee," she prayed. "We come in meekness and with broken hearts to pray for thy righteous blessing. Grant our friend the strength to endure with thy perfect healing hand. Give her hope—give her comfort—and the will to be made whole again. Our strength and faith endures forever, of this we firmly pray…"
When Nessa leaned up again, her stance was firmer and effected much more gracefully. She imparted Elphaba with a final glance before walking out of the room—shakily, but on her own.
Elphaba remained seated near Glinda's bed, her expression still the same. But when she heard Nessa finally leave the room, Elphaba whispered, "Amen."
Whether God heard Nessa's prayer that night remains, to this day, uncertain. Perhaps it was Elphaba's finishing refrain that had opened the heart of the heavens. But whether it was providence, fortune, or fate that roused Glinda from her feverish slumber, the truth may never fully be determined or its mysteries entirely uncovered.
The morning was cold and lifelessly dull for the infirmary's beleaguered inhabitants. Nanny had half-dragged Elphaba out of the room, insisting that she get some sleep and a little nourishment if possible. There had been protests, arguments, and a fiercely unenthusiastic compromise that Elphaba would try and take a short nap on one of the couches in the main reception area.
Though Elphaba fought off the lure of sleep admirably, everyone could see she was close to exhaustion. Boq assured her that he'd stay and keep watch while Elphaba attempted to sleep. He was grateful that Nanny had been the one to challenge her, because Boq didn't have the stomach for it. Forcing Elphaba to do anything against her will was like trying to shift a boulder off of a mountain. And with Glinda at the center of her every concern, you may as well try shifting the mountain itself.
Weak sunlight had managed to creep in through the room's frosted windows, softening the hard, clinical character of the white-washed walls surrounding them. Faint noise could be heard in the halls outside or coming from the other occupied beds. Boq tried reading from his agricultural studies and failed to notice the slight stirring of the hand on the bed-sheets beside him.
The softest of sighs escaped her lips; her eyes slowly opened.
Oblivious to her movements or her quiet breath of consciousness, Boq remained seated and bent over his textbook, close to dozing off. It must have taken Glinda a moment to focus on the tired young man beside her, for when he was nearly on the verge of sleep, a faint whisper of his name was heard in her tired, trembling voice. "Boq?"
Boq's eyes suddenly snapped open. He turned his head and looked up. When he saw Glinda staring at him with a weary yet lucid expression, it was as though his heart had suddenly learned how to beat again.
He scraped his chair up close to her bed in a swift and fluid movement, quickly catching her hand in his with an earnest, rapturous expression. "Glinda," he said with a glowing smile, unable to contain his joy. He felt as if he could laugh and cry, so strong were his emotions. "Hey! Nice to see you again."
It was amazing how brilliantly her eyes could sparkle in spite of the fever that had plagued her. A faint smile graced her bloodless lips, and Boq's heart fluttered all over again. He lifted a hand to rest on her forehead, smoothing her hair with his fingertips. It was an intimacy he had never dared to attempt since their long forgotten afternoon together, somewhere on the shores of Neverdale.
"You look tired," she said in a rasping whisper, weakly pressing his hand. "Dearest Boq… have you been here long?"
He smiled at her, in love as he was, and slowly shook his head. "Not long," he said with earnest affection. "Not very long at all. How are you feeling?"
"Wonderful," she said with a brighter smile, "and probably much better than I look."
Boq gave a short and quiet laugh that made him look utterly handsome. "Oh now, Miss Glinda, when have you ever ceased to be anything other than perfectly beautiful?"
A hint of sadness touched her features. "I wasn't when I hurt you."
Her confession was overly unexpected, and left him at a loss for words. He looked down and noticed her fingers were pressing on the scars where his stitches had been. A well of love rose up in his breast so painful that he almost couldn't bear it. He looked at her again with a sad expression. There was so much honesty and genuine concern in the timid blue of her eyes.
"Don't worry about that," he said sincerely. "I'm a Munchkinlander through and through; we're built of sturdy stuff."
"Even so," she softly replied, "could you forgive me just the same?"
Boq didn't need to say the words. His eyes said everything for him. He pressed a kiss against her hand where his tears had already fallen.
The pair cherished this moment together, bereft of anything else. They stared at each other with mutual affection and something close to gratitude. Even if his love was forever unrequited, it was sweet and valued all the same. A clear ray of sunlight touched on the bed and lit up their clasping hands.
Glinda eventually brought her hand up and pressed it against Boq's cheek. Her thumb grazed the slope of his chin, and she whispered, "Where is Elphaba?"
Boq was about to motion to the door when he looked up and saw Elphaba standing there. Had she heard them talking, or did Elphie instinctively realize that life was brought back to her friend?
Glinda turned and saw her waiting fretfully near the door. Their eyes met from across the room, and in them were all things unspoken. To say what either could possibly have felt is most assuredly unknown. But at that moment, comparable to any other, Glinda was finally whole.