~~Elphaba~~

Glinda was both quiet and not, on the train to the Emerald City - she didn't make a sound, but she somehow managed to be rather loud anyway. Her silent fidgeting and occasional nail-biting rose to the intensity of a thunderstorm in Elphaba's mind, and the silence began to buzz in her ears loudly enough to drown out the clacking of the train wheels and the hissing vibrations of the engine. She managed, just, not to tell Glinda to please please sit still, but by the time they were an hour out of Shiz she absolutely had to lay a hand on Glinda's thigh and firmly stop its motion.

"Sorry," Glinda almost whispered. It had been so long since either of them had spoken that her voice had to slide its way through the palpable buzzing silence to reach Elphaba's ear. Elphaba cleared her throat.

"Nervous?" she asked.

"Of course." Glinda sighed and one hand lifted to her mouth, one perfectly shaped fingernail finding its way briefly between her teeth. Glinda never really bit her nails, of course, but sometimes she simply nibbled at them as if the less-damaging act were equally soothing to her nerves. "I wonder if . . ."

There had been a lot of half-finished sentences lately. Elphaba raised an eyebrow. "You wonder what?"

"I think - I think maybe there's something I should tell you before we get there. But I'm not sure."

Elphaba's heart raced so suddenly that she felt certain Glinda would be able to see it practically leaping from her chest. "What is it?"

"It's about Morrible." Glinda frowned down at her lap. "I think. I think it's just Morrible."

Well of course it was Morrible. "What about her?"

"I think - she, well . . ." Glinda looked up at Elphaba and her frown deepened. "No, I think I must be wrong. Never mind."

"No - Glinda." Elphaba hesitated with her hand half-extended, not sure if it would help or hurt for her to touch Glinda right now. "You don't have to be sure, to tell me about it. You know that - we've made a lot of guesses since this all started. If you've thought of something, or - if Morrible - said something, or told you something that I don't know about - you have to tell me, we have to help each other or . . ." Or. There was no "or," at least not one that she was willing to say out loud.

"This is different." Glinda's eyes had fallen to her lap again.

"How?" Glinda didn't reply, and Elphaba tried a different tack, trying and failing to keep a note of fear out of her voice. "Something about us? Something she wants you to do? Something about the people they have working for them at school? What?"

"None of that - nothing like that. I don't think." She didn't lift her eyes, but her expression and her tone both became slightly reproachful. "I would tell you something like that, right away."

"Then what?" Elphaba couldn't think of much that Glinda would be afraid to tell her, anything that she would hesitate to say to Elphaba. Unless she had done something that Elphaba would disapprove of, and even then it would have to be bad.

"It's something about me - she's confused about something, about me, she . . ." Glinda reached over and took Elphaba's hand, and Elphaba tried not feel as if she were being deliberately distracted. "It's nothing really, it's just a feeling I have. I just - if it turns out I'm right, or if it seems to be important, I swear I'll tell you."

"You can't tell me now?" Elphaba asked quietly.

"It would - it might -" Glinda bit her lip and looked away, out the window. "It's something that might change things, if I told you. I don't know what you would think, or - do."

"And you don't think I should have the right to decide?"

Her tone had been too sharp; Glinda turned to meet her gaze with wide, frightened eyes. "I - it's - I don't -"

"Never mind." She laced her fingers carefully through Glinda's. "I'm sorry."

"No. It's all right." Glinda slid her fingers back and forth lightly, which had the effect of stroking Elphaba's between them. "It's not really about you, you see, it's - I think it's a secret."

"A secret between you and Morrible?"

"No. A secret of just mine. Or she thinks there is, she thinks she knows a secret of mine. Something I might not ordinarily have told you anyway, understand? but she thinks she can use it. Or - that's my guess. So if I have to, I'll tell you about it, but if I don't have to - because you see, the secret itself doesn't really have anything to do with us or the Wizard or politics or Morrible or anything. Just me."

A feeling of guilt was beginning to eat slowly at Elphaba. This was something she hadn't contemplated while she was wondering whether Glinda might have been enlisted to Morrible's side in some way, whether she was keeping a secret relevant to their plight - that Morrible might in fact just be blackmailing her, or trying to, with a personal secret. She hadn't been doing it overtly if Glinda wasn't yet certain of what was happening, but still, it was something Elphaba should have thought of before she started suspecting Glinda.

On the other hand, did she have any real guarantee that Glinda was immune to blackmail? It was something, she supposed, that Glinda had promised to tell her everything if it became important.

"So," she said slowly, "if she tries - if you think she's trying to use this, to get you to do something or -"

"I'll tell you. I promise."

"I wish -" Elphaba bit back the rest of her sentence.

"You wish what?"

"Nothing. That we didn't have to worry about any of this, that's all." It wasn't true - she had been about to say that she wished Glinda felt she could tell her the whole truth. It wasn't so long ago that Glinda had been talking about best friends sharing secrets and insisting that she wouldn't keep anything from Elphaba.

By now they were both almost used to their escort of guards - although Glinda took Elphaba's hand when the guards appeared, and Elphaba didn't think it was for Glinda's comfort - and the rest of the routine was becoming unfortunately familiar. The hotel was the same. The room wasn't, but the one enormous bed was a recurring feature. Between Morrible and the damned bed, in fact, Elphaba was beginning to wonder how it was possible that Glinda hadn't yet guessed, hadn't figured out what Morrible and the Wizard believed about their relationship. Really, and the Wizard said Elphaba wasn't subtle. Perhaps subtlety was more valued in witches than in press secretaries.

Apparently by now they were trusted to show up; no one demanded to see them at the Palace that very night. They were left to their own devices until the following morning. Given that they knew more or less what to expect, the politics and secrets and conspiracies aside, and that nothing truly terrible had happened to them on their last visit, they were both calm enough at least to venture from the hotel and to manage to eat. Glinda had even stopped mentioning that she was thoroughly tired of green, although that might just have been tact on her part (Elphaba did notice that she managed to order exclusively non-green vegetables in the restaurant).

Spring came sooner to the Emerald City than to Shiz, and all around them people were outside enjoying the mild evening - quite a difference from their very first trip, when the streets had been all but deserted at this hour. They ate at a restaurant that seated them outdoors, and even Glinda's nervous fidgeting was almost stilled by the time they'd finished a glass of wine each. "I haven't forgotten my promise, you know," she said, running her fingers over the tablecloth and kicking Elphaba gently under the table, "to invite you to Gillikin this summer."

"What made you think of that?"

"The wine."

"Oh."

Glinda looked at her across the table with an expression that was both soft and also somewhat sad. "You know," she said, "I - missed you."

Elphaba didn't have to ask what she meant. She nodded slightly and said, "I'm sorry."

"I know. I wish -" She laughed and picked up her fork delicately. "I like watching all these people, who aren't stuck in the middle of a political strategy. Must be nice."

"They are stuck in it," Elphaba said. "They just don't know about it."

"Maybe. But even so." Glinda's leg began to move idly and Elphaba once again fought the urge to still it. "I keep thinking of the first time we came here, when we talked about living together in the City after school . . ."

"I'm fairly sure we will be," Elphaba pointed out.

"And yet." Glinda's expression was dreamy as she stared out into the sea of green. "It's just a bit tainted, isn't it? I was thinking it would be nice not to know that."

"It was nice not to know that. I remember enjoying it."

"Do you ever wish -"

"I think I've made a personal vow to stop wishing," Elphaba said before Glinda could finish. "It doesn't seem to have gotten me very far."

"Hmm," Glinda said.

Glinda was in bed before Elphaba, and Elphaba had to school herself all over again not to feel awkward. She and Glinda had by now shared a bed so many times since their first trip to the City together, but that was before all of the suspicion in Elphaba's mind and Glinda's strange distance and her secrets that she couldn't share, back when Glinda pounced on her at least once a day and thought nothing of kissing her goodnight, back when they actually finished more than half of their sentences and answered each other's questions. Elphaba slid into the bed and felt rather cold when Glinda didn't move closer to her.

~~Glinda~~

Elphaba had gone off somewhere with the Wizard. Glinda had stopped worrying very much about her when this happened, since Elphaba had told her after their last visit that he had mostly wanted just to talk with her - about slightly strange things sometimes, but nevertheless. She wasn't certain, however, whether she should be warmed or offended by the look of abject fear that had come over Elphaba's face when they were told that Glinda would be spending her day alone with Madame Morrible - was Elphaba afraid for Glinda, or afraid that Glinda would do something stupid?

At any rate, Madame Morrible didn't seem terribly interested in conducting a sorcery class today. She spent the first several minutes of their time together pacing in a circle around Glinda, seemingly studying her, although to what end Glinda couldn't think. Finally she asked, "Glinda, dear, are you entirely certain that this is the life you would choose for yourself?"

Glinda had to twist around and look over her shoulder in order to frown at Morrible; the woman's orbit had her still somewhere behind Glinda. "Excuse me?"

Morrible kept walking; Glinda had to switch to the other shoulder in order to keep looking at her. "It's just that it doesn't seem entirely suited to you, you know, all this mess - politics and all." The hard c in "politics" was so very harsh that Glinda's teeth hurt.

"Last time," she said, "you told me I was perfect for it."

"Perfectly suited to be a spokesperson, yes, you are that. Provided you know what to say." Morrible had come around in front of Glinda again; she pressed one finger to her lips and stared thoughtfully somewhere in the region of Glinda's feet. "But are you quite certain that you wouldn't prefer a more peaceful existence?"

"I'm not sure I know what you mean." Glinda fought the urge to fidget.

"Well." Morrible looked as if she had just had a revelation. Glinda suspected that was not the case. "Marriage, for one thing. Haven't you thought about it?"

Now Glinda was truly confused, and a little bit concerned. "Are you saying that I can't ever get married if I -"

"Oh, no, of course not, my dear. But you know, many girls of your age are looking forward to marrying as soon as possible - I'm sure that some of your friends back at home are married already."

"Yes, they are. But -"

"And you do have such an eligible potential partner, do you not?"

"I do?"

"Well of course, Prince Fiyero -"

"Oh." Glinda allowed herself the luxury, at least, of shifting from one foot to the other. "No, Madame Morrible. We're not - er - you're mistaken, I'm afraid."

Morrible's painted eyebrows lifted. "No? You've changed your mind about him?"

She hesitated for only a breath. "He changed his mind about me."

"Pity. Still, a pretty girl like yourself, and you still have two years of school left."

Glinda planted herself firmly on both feet. "Madame, I don't understand. I thought everything was all settled here. I don't want to go off and get married instead." That was entirely true - while she wasn't confident that she could handle any of this, and she was still rather frightened of most of it, and a lot of it seemed extremely unpleasant, she couldn't say that the idea of pledging herself to the first man who came along was a much pleasanter prospect.

Morrible smiled, but slowly. "Just making absolutely certain, my dear. That you know exactly what you're getting into, and that you do have other alternatives."

Glinda could only imagine what they would do if she chose one of those "other alternatives" - spell her back into last autumn so she'd forget everything she'd seen, probably. "I'm certain," she said.

"Good. Because, you know, it's not an unrewarding life."

"I - didn't think it was."

"No. Not like Miss Elphaba, eh - always so serious, that girl. You'd think everything was meant to be a trial."

Now Glinda had really no idea of what Morrible meant by any of this. "Well," she said, "she's had more trials than most."

"Oh, I know how loyal to her you are, and it's a credit to you. But she doesn't understand your particular trials, does she?"

"My trials?"

"Can you honestly say that you think she understands the things that concern you, the things that make you unhappy?"

Glinda looked down, twisted her fingers together. "Sometimes," she said. "Not all of them I suppose. But we're different. I don't understand all the things that concern her, either."

"Of course not. Different people can provide each other with different things."

Glinda wrinkled her nose. "Sorry?"

"Why don't you come along with me, and I'll see if I can show you what I mean." Morrible gestured for Glinda to walk ahead of her out of the room, and after a moment's hesitation Glinda did. "You see," Morrible continued as they started down the marble hallway, "I want for you to realize that by joining us here, you will have access to such an enormous variety of . . . resources. Things you might never experience outside of this palace."

All of this sounded both ominous and reasonable. Obviously she would have access to greater resources living in the palace than outside it, so Morrible must have had some specific reason for pointing this out. But what?

At the end of the hallway they walked through a set of garden doors and stepped onto a marble-and-emerald balcony, high above the main square that sat in front of the palace. A light breeze ruffled Glinda's hair as she stepped closer to the rail to look down on the City.

"This, of course," Morrible said, "is where official proclamations are made. You'll be spending quite a bit of time here, with all of the Emerald City - all of Oz, even - gazing up at you." She was leaning against the rail at the other end of the balcony, watching Glinda.

After a moment, Glinda turned. "Why are you showing this to me?" she asked.

"Because you've been working so hard. To show you the rewards that wait if you continue to do as we ask - that's all."

Glinda looked out over the City again. The sun was bright at this time of day; she could feel the top of her head beginning to warm. Its light refracted in brilliant rainbow patterns off the sparkling emerald of the buildings around her and her eyes swirled with the patterns. She began to feel a bit dizzy with the height and the colors and the heat. Her hands tightened their grip on the railing. "And Elphaba?" she asked.

"What about her?"

"I will be with her, won't I? I mean - you haven't said much about her, in all this." Your dreams, Glinda, she told herself firmly, although her head was beginning to swim. Remember that Elphaba wasn't there.

"Of course you will," Morrible said, and Glinda turned and looked into her eyes to try to detect any trace of duplicity. The blinding light all around her made it difficult. "I just want to make sure you remember that she isn't the only one on your side, you see. You can have all you could ever possibly want, my dear, it's all within your reach."

"Of course," Glinda murmured without conscious thought. "I understand." Mostly she wanted Morrible to stop talking and let her think; she was feeling so terribly foggy. It wasn't unlike the time she and Elphaba had drunk their way through a bottle of wine, actually - she felt the same warmth, the same pleasant lightheadedness, the same delicate thrumming of sensation. She wondered if she might be getting sunstroke. "I'm sorry," she said, "but I think I'd better go back inside. The sun . . ."

"Of course."

The guards in the hallway stood up straighter as they walked past, and Glinda noticed this time how really handsome they all were - she wondered if it were some sort of requisite for joining the Guards, or at least for serving in the formal parts of the palace? That sense of power, of energy pulsing through her body increased; she caught her lower lip between her teeth as she looked at them, and one of them blushed. Morrible was talking quietly beside her, saying something about the merits of being unattached in a city such as this, the power of Glinda's imminent position, the access, the pleasures of the City, the interest that all these things might hold for a young woman who knew her own mind . . . Glinda didn't understand much of it, but she was having a hard time concentrating on Morrible's words anyway. Her head was spinning so terribly - she wasn't sure whether she liked it or not . . .

At some point Morrible dismissed her, she supposed, because she was leaving the palace and no one was stopping her. The sun was going low, it was early evening, Elphaba would be returning to the hotel as well, the air should have been cooler but around Glinda it was all so warm, even the slightest breeze was so noticeable in all this heat that it felt like a caress. The guards were all looking at her as she walked past and images filled her head, images that should have made her blush especially considering her reaction even to Fiyero's rather chaste attentions, but this was different, she was mature and sophisticated, it was teeth scraping lightly against her throat, hands twisted and tangled in her hair, fingers nimbly freeing her from her elegant gown, the soft-rough rasp of a tongue against her skin . . .

The looks on the faces of the gate guards as she passed made her weak in the knees, but somehow she managed to walk. Down the half-block, toward the hotel, amid the throngs of people all looking at her, all adoring, any one dying to . . . the doorman at the hotel offered a hand to help her inside and she shuddered as the touch passed through her entire body, her mind full, filled with hands cupping her breasts, finding delicate flesh and stroking it into responsiveness, hard muscles against her stomach, the scrape of fresh beard-stubble against her skin, hair brushing against her inner thighs, a tongue stirring her into fire, into pure need, into agony, power . . .

She managed to open the door and stood gasping, eyes finding Elphaba across the room as the door shut behind her. She must have been back for a while already, Glinda's muddled, sex-fogged brain told her - she must have been worried, she was frowning in concern, she had already bathed, her hair hung long and damp over her bare shoulders and wetted the front of her shift, making it cling to her body - Glinda suddenly wondered with a morbid, throbbing curiosity what would happen if Elphaba touched her while she had gotten herself into such a state -

But of course when Glinda was looking like this, flushed and disheveled and breathing hard, there was no chance Elphaba would not touch her - she wouldn't understand, she was worried, she was coming over now, stretching out a hand - of course she would touch her, unless Glinda told her not to - she should tell her not to -

Elphaba's outstretched hand brushed against the inside of Glinda's elbow, went to take hold of her arm - the throbbing soaring fire and power spread throughout Glinda's body - she heard herself cry out - and the world went black.