Disclaimer: How many times do I have to say "not mine" for me to prove my point? Not mine. Not mine. NOT. MINE.
A/N: Well, this came out late. Sorry! You can blame life for that. Anyway, writing this chapter was a blast! I had a lot of fun making the dialogues for some reason. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!
If one were to look into the minds of the Goat and Tiger doctors walking down one of the many long corridors of the village clinic, they would see chaos.
Will she be ok? This would be much more than just a simple question of curiosity. This question would be one that echoed in their minds at every passing moment, born out of pure fear and concern. It would bounce off the ridges of their brains in an eternal torrent, eating away at them until it was answered. And sometimes, it would become too much for them to contain, and they would be practically forced to voice it. And as such, they found themselves having the discussion that they had already had several times over.
"Who knows?" came the distant reply from the Tiger, his mind focused on much more than that at the moment. The Goat looked at him.
"Do you not care for her safety, Aulis?" Now the Tiger looked at the Goat, but he did so differently. His look was one that held confusion and surprise, as if the Goat had just grown another head.
"Of course I do. I just…" he sighed, trying to find the right words. "I just have other things on my mind," he managed to say.
"Like what?" the Goat prodded, earning him a glare from Aulis.
"Like how to save her," he answered, effectively silencing the Goat. The two continued on for a few seconds more before coming to a door, preparing themselves once again for one of their routine nightly visits to their newest patient. Silently, Aulis opened the door cautiously, as he was not quite yet accustomed to looking at her in the condition that she was in.
The sight before them never ceased to catch them off-guard. The patient had arrived just a few days prior at around noon. She had been dragged through the doors by a few Monkeys, which had been odd enough, but what had gotten the staff's attention the most were the giant wings sprouted on their backs. The sight had caused a feeling of dread to sweep throughout the building, and upon seeing the patient, their suspicions had been confirmed.
She was a young woman—in her early twenties, based on her appearance (excluding the cause of her visit, of course)—wearing a heavy black and purple gown darkened by the presence of some liquid; it was soon discovered that the liquid was warm to the touch. It was also very sticky… and very red. It was a miracle that she was alive, but just barely. Her breaths were dangerously shallow, and her heart was beating quickly. Her skin was very clammy and pale, but it was also something else: green. That was the observation that made everyone stop in their tracks. That was the confirmation of the fact that lying before them, on the shoulders of those strange Monkeys and desperately fighting to keep her life, was indeed the one and only Wicked Witch of the West.
Now here these two doctors were, standing in front of the recovering green girl, figuring out the best way to get her healthy again as quickly as possible. They were in the middle of discussing a possible treatment option when they heard a voice from behind them.
"So the rumors are true, then," it said, startling the two. They turned around to see a large Lion standing in the doorway, his arms crossed and his eyes looking darkly at the patient. His mouth was twisted into a mild scowl, his nose scrunched up in a distasteful manner.
"Oh, hello, sir," the Goat said, registering the fact that the voice belonged to the leader of the village. The Lion glanced up at him for a short moment.
"Hello," he said distantly, making it clear that he wasn't really paying attention to the doctor; he just alternated his gaze from the green girl to the floor and back, appearing to be lost in thought. It was a rather awkward silence that passed between the three Animals, the only sound being the occasional breath from the Witch that just happened to have been loud enough to hear. After a few long minutes, however, the leader spoke once again.
"How long do you suspect she'll stay like this?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious. The doctors looked at each other before looking back and shrugging.
"We can't say for certain, sir," Aulis said. "We don't even know she won't stay like this. Right now, she's stable, but she's still in very bad condition." The leader simply nodded as he continued to stare at the unconscious form on the mattress. Based on the conversation, it seemed as though he was the only one who noticed the faint shimmer on her skin constantly coming and going in waves.
"Well, just keep an eye on her, and tell me if she improves. Call it wishful thinking if you want, but I have a suspicion that she'll recover sooner than you think." At that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving the others in a state of confusion at his rather cryptic statement.
On the way back to his house, the leader thought about the current situation that he had found himself in. Unwanted memories cropped up in his mind whenever he thought about the Witch, and it bothered him to no end. Would it be too much to ask to forget about his past and start over? That's why he had moved out to this Animal encampment by the Vinkus River, anyway: to start a new life. And yet, no matter how hard he had tried to get rid of those memories, they had come back to haunt him in the end. And it was all because of that Witch, he thought bitterly, eyeing the scars strewn across his body. By this point, he had already come to his house near the middle of the village. He unlocked the door and slipped inside, mulling over what he should do next.
Suddenly, an idea struck him. He looked over to the parchment and quill sitting on his small desk on one side of the smallish room, pondering over whether or not he should carry it out. I couldn't, he chided himself, but the paper looked so much more appealing in that moment. Could I? He walked over to the desk, his gaze fixated on the flickering orange-red light emanating from the wax candle beside the paper and quill.
No, you fool! His mind shouted at him. You'll put the entire village in danger. That was true, but if he moved far enough away…
With one final thought, he picked up the quill and began to write, having had enough practice in his six months of being the village leader to do so. Don't forget why you're here. Don't ever forget…
The past five days had been hell for Fiyero and Galinda. Not only had they been made to act all "nice and oh, so, cheery!" (as Galinda had put it) now that the Witch—no, Elphaba—had died, but internally, their minds had been clouded by grief and torment. Galinda had it pretty bad, but Fiyero…. Galinda's pain had been nothing compared to his. Sure, he managed to get through the day, albeit barely, but if anyone were to see him "after hours", they would see a broken man.
Sometimes, if Galinda was lucky, he would cry or scream or do something, but for the most part, he sat in the corner, neither doing nor saying anything. He would sit motionlessly with blank, dull eyes, unwilling to do anything. On the third day, he was a bit more active, so Galinda took the opportunity to have an actual conversation with him.
"Fiyero?" the blonde asked, looking over to the couch that he was sitting on.
"Hmm?" he offered as a response.
"Fiyero, I know it's hard, and I'm not asking you to do anything right now…" The Captain glanced in her direction, eyeing her cautiously. She gulped and let out a deep sigh, preparing herself for what might happen. "Elphie wouldn't have wanted you to do this to yourself," she said quietly, timidly, already putting up her guard. As she had expected, he reacted angrily. His eyes narrowed, glaring daggers at the young woman. His voice dropped dangerously low.
"And how would you know that?" he questioned. "You weren't there when she died. You should've seen the pain on her face. How do you think it makes me feel to know that, in her last moments, all that pain, all that agony that she must've felt was caused by me?!" He was on his feet shouting by this point, yet Galinda stood strong, knowing that he needed this. "How do you think it makes me feel to have to go through my day acting all happy, like there's absolutely nothing wrong?!" His voice cracked slightly on the last word, and his eyes were tearing up. "I have to act like she was my worst enemy! I have to spend every hour of my day surrounded by these imbeciles who throw her 'name' around so Oz-damned casually, like she was nothing but an insignificant bug on the window that would fly away at any moment!"
"And you think that I don't have to live with that?!" Galinda shouted, feeling a surge of anger pass through her. Fiyero stopped dead in his tracks for just a moment before his eyes darkened.
"Not the way that I do." His voice was steady and cold, yet it was also surprisingly calm and quiet. He looked away, leaving Galinda stunned at his unexpected comment. She tried to find her voice again, but being unable to do so, she stalked off into the bedroom instead, blinking away her unshed tears.
The two hadn't spoken much in the two days since, so it was no surprise that Galinda was sitting on their lavish couch while Fiyero sat in his usual spot, neither saying nor doing anything. The petite blonde stared up at the ceiling, wondering how long this would last. Suddenly, she heard knocking at the door.
"Who is it?" she said, trying (but failing) to sound like her happy and cheerful self.
"Pardon the disturbance, Lady Galinda, but we've received a letter addressed to you and Master Fiyero," came a man's voice from the other side of the door. She sighed exasperatedly, but she conceded to the request nonetheless.
"Send it in," she commanded as both she and Fiyero prepared for the newcomers. The door opened, and in walked a Gale Forcer, a folded piece of parchment in his hand.
"The letter has been looked through, milady, and we believe it is of the utmost importance that you read it as soon as possible," the soldier informed, making Galinda's brow crease in confusion. The man left as quickly as he came, closing the door behind him. She wondered what could possibly be so important as she opened the letter, but that thought was quickly replaced by many more as she read it.
Lady Galinda the Good and Master Fiyero, our great Captain of the Guard,
A thousand pardons, but I have grave news to tell you. I have information regarding the recently-deceased Wicked Witch of the West: to be specific, information regarding her current status as "deceased". She has been spotted near the Vinkus River… alive and well. I cannot tell you much more, as I am fearful of the Witch discovering me. I'm afraid that I can't even disclose my name, but I will take a risk and tell you this: if you wish to discover more information, meet me in three days' time at dusk at the northwestern edge of the small forest between the Vinkus River and the Emerald City. I understand if you feel that this is a joke, but I promise you: I'm telling the truth. Bring some Gale Forcers to accompany you, I don't mind, but I can guarantee that it will be worth it. I hope this letter makes it to you safely. Best regards to you both.
The paper fell slowly to the floor as Galinda's grip slackened in shock. Fiyero noticed this, and he got up (which was a miracle in and of itself), walking towards the letter. Mildly confused, he picked it up and began to read it. He did the same thing as Galinda did when he finished as well. The two stood there for a long moment, neither one of them being able to speak. It was Fiyero to break the silence first.
"This… this can't be real," he said, though every part of him was hoping that it was.
"But what if it is?" Galinda replied in the same awestruck tone as Fiyero. Fiyero looked at Galinda, doubtfully yet hopefully.
"What if it isn't?" he said, his pessimistic side getting the better of him. Galinda sighed.
"If it isn't… well, we'll have some Gale Forcers to protect us, right?"
"I suppose," he agreed, a bit crestfallen at the possibility. There was silence for a few seconds before Galinda spoke.
"Fiyero?" He looked at her.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry… for what I said the other day. I shouldn't have pushed you." Fiyero looked surprised at this.
"No, Glin… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have exploded like that," he apologized, looking sad at the memory.
"But you had every right to do so." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"Even so…." he trailed off, uncertain of what to say after that.
"Do you remember what I said, though? About Elphie not wanting you to blame yourself?" He nodded solemnly, tears forming in his eyes. "I was serious about that, Fiyero. No matter what happens, you shouldn't blame yourself anymore." He looked up at her, genuinely shocked.
"But-"
"It wasn't your fault. It was Elphaba's decision to cast… that spell..." She choked a little on the last word. "Any way you put it, she knew what she was getting herself into, and even if she is dead, she doesn't blame you, I'm sure. Never forget that, okay? Never forget that…." Fiyero could only nod.
I promise, Glin, he thought, feeling strangely at peace. I won't. Not now. Not later. Not ever.
So, there's a bit of fluff for you at the end. Does that make up for the time I've been gone? ...Yeah, I didn't think so, either. Let me know what you thought! See you next chapter, and thanks for reviewing!