I discovered something really interesting. Not sure how many others may have already caught this. We all know Gregory Maguire spells Magick with a 'k' in Wicked, but I discovered this week that 'Magick' is actually the way practicing Wiccans refer to their craft, to distinguish it from false illusion. Magick is also supposed to be used entirely for good, because using it for evil will cause evil to returned, magnified, upon the user. Interesting...

All the world is a stage,
And everyone has their part,
But how was I to know which way the story'd go,
How was I to know you'd break,
You'd break my heart?

I've always been in love with you,
Guess you've always known,
You took my love for granted, why oh why?
The show is over, say good-bye.

Take A Bow, Madonna

Chapter 8

It was three more days before Elphaba could get out of bed. Galinda thought her roommate would go stir-crazy from being confined to the room. Elphaba, however, was unusually subdued. She poured over several large books she'd had Galinda fetch from the library, and tackled the assignments Galinda brought to her that Monday. The nurse had given Elphaba an official notice to allow her to miss some classes. However, Elphaba was up and dressed Tuesday morning, determined to go to class.

"Are you sure?" Galinda asked.

"Yes. It will do me no good to sulk in here. I'm here for an education. And I have much to do," Elphaba set her face in a determined expression and gingerly picked up her books.

Deciding not to argue, Galinda walked Elphaba as far as she could, and then watched her disappear into the History building. She stood there for a few minutes, hoping that whatever had harmed Elphie was not lurking somewhere nearby. She still had not been able to shake the idea that her roommate's injuries were inflicted by someone, and not something. Elphaba generally moved with a strangely cat-like grace. It would have been out of character for her to fall. However, if she'd been clamoring around, trying to get into some inaccessible place, it was possible…

The soft, stinging moisture of snowflakes startled Galinda from her reverie. The snow that had been threatening to fall for days had finally come. She pulled her cloak tighter around her body and turned to make her ways towards her own classes.

From across the open square, she caught sight of Fiyero and Avaric. They were arguing, although she was too far away to make out what they were saying. Galinda felt a sudden rush of anger at the realization that neither had inquired about Elphaba's condition over the past four days. Although she could not say for certain, she was convinced one or both of them had something to do with her friend's injuries. Galinda approached them, driven by a strange, new courage. Both Fiyero and Avaric went silent when she got close.

"Is something wrong Master Tigelaar? Master Tenmeadows?" she asked, with a bite in her voice.

"No Miss Upland, everything is peachy," Avaric sneered, throwing a menacing glance at Fiyero.

Fiyero looked as though he could use some sleep. Galinda noted his usually clean-shaven face was covered in stubble, and he'd allowed his wiry hair to go a little more wild than usual. For a moment, she almost felt badly for him. Then, she remembered Elphaba's battered body.

"I thought you'd like to know, gentlemen, since it's no secret between us that you're relationship with Miss Elphaba is quite friendly, that she's been in bed for four days," Galinda trembled a little, because she was not as brave as she sounded.

"That's a shame," Avaric offered carelessly, "Tell her we hope she's well soon. Perhaps she can make it to the café this Friday. There's a sinful new desert that I think she would appreciate."

Fiyero shot Avaric a hard glare, but said nothing. Finally, when Galinda fixed her gaze on Fiyero and refused to leave, he added weakly, "Tell her I'm sorry she's ill."

"She's not ill," Galinda said through clenched teeth.

"Then why are you still here, Miss Upland?" Avaric's tone was annoyed.

"She has three broken ribs," Galinda told them softly. She glanced down at her shoes, afraid to accuse them directly. They were, after all, men who were much larger than she.

Fiyero's face fell for a moment, revealing a hint of sadness behind the hard façade.

"That sounds painful. However did that happen?" Avaric asked innocently, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Perhaps someone threw her across the room," Fiyero choked out through clenched teeth. He stared hard at Avaric, and for a moment, no one spoke.

Galinda's heart pounded in her chest. She had never cared much for Avaric, but now she was quite terrified. She tried to conceal her shock at what Fiyero had revealed.

When she finally spoke, Galinda's voice sounded tiny and strained, "Whatever happened to her…was very serious."

Avaric looked as though he might punch Fiyero, but thought better of it with Galinda standing there. Instead, he said, "As much as I'd love to stand around and discuss the health of the green girl, I have class. Fiyero, perhaps we'll finish our discussion later?"

Fiyero's eyes flashed, but he kept quiet. He nodded curtly, and Avaric strode away with his books tucked under his arm. Left alone with Fiyero, Galinda felt somewhat less anxious.

Her voice was soft and poignant when she spoke, "She's in a lot of pain, Fiyero…"

"She's not the only one," Fiyero choked out, his voice deep and saturated with bitter emotion.

"You could at least—" Galinda started.

"Leave it alone, Galinda," Fiyero interjected, "Elphaba's a big girl. I'm certain she can take care of herself."

He walked away then, leaving Galinda standing open-mouthed and shocked at his lack of concern. She was torn between feeling terribly for Elphie, and wondering what could have possibly transpired to make Fiyero so angry. He had never struck her as the vindictive type before. Galinda had always thought Fiyero to be somewhat feckless, but not one who would cause harm to anyone else. She was baffled, and still somewhat frustrated that she had been pulled into this circle of insanity by her roommate.

This is why proper courting is so important. Look what a mess is woven when one breaks convention, she thought.

Galinda went to class then, feeling more confused than when she'd started out that morning.

Fiyero skipped class that morning, deciding his emotions were running far too high to sit still and listen to a droning professor. He wandered aimlessly, finally landing on one of the benches amidst a grove of trees. They were evergreens, with soft, furry boughs that provided a measure of privacy. Fiyero watched the tiny flakes of snow fall, wondering how long it would take to pick up into a true snowstorm. He was somewhat shielded by the trees, though, and managed to stay mostly dry.

Fiyero's thoughts ran rampant, and he tried to find some measure of calm. He was so angry, and he had spent most of the last few nights tossing and turning. When he managed to sleep, he was haunted by images of Elphaba carrying on with Avaric while he was forced to watch. It made him physically sick to think about what he had seen. And he knew, underneath all the anger, he was horribly, bitterly wounded.

This is why father told me to stay away from women, he thought, wishing now that he had taken the advice.

I know many of the other young men are taking a far more modern approach to courting, his father had said, I know it is mostly overlooked. But you are different. You are heir to a throne. You need your heart to belong to your bride. Don't taint that.

Fiyero understood now what his father had meant. He was connected to Elphaba, bound to her by a bond that he feared could never be broken. He had taken his first steps into manhood with her. He had exposed himself to her, body and soul, and gave her everything he had. She was the first to touch his heart, to touch his flesh. She would always be first. And because it had not been a casual encounter, she could never be replaced. His future bride could never have the same place in his heart.

It made him shake with anger to think that Elphaba surely must have known how he felt. It seemed impossible that she could not have realized how he hung on her every word, how he melted before her. He had contemplated mutiny against the government with her. He had, for once, thought of something other than his self. She had to have known that he wouldn't have shared her for anything in the world. She must have sensed he would have said no, if he had known that 'whatever it takes' meant sleeping with Avaric. Fiyero never would have allowed himself to be caught up in this circle of selfish, using of one another. To him, that price was too high. To Fiyero, it was equivalent of righting one wrong with another, equally heinous one.

He began to pick up pine cones, which littered the grassy floor, and throw them haphazardly at the trees. He watched them splinter and fall, yet feeling no real relief. He happened to glance toward the History building, where he caught a glimpse of Elphaba making her way down the stairs. She was close enough that he could have called to her, but he kept quiet. She struggled down the steps, her right arm wrapped carefully around her left side. She winced with each step and, thinking she was alone, did not conceal the pain and turmoil etched onto her face.

Fiyero's heart twisted, as he watched her struggle. Still, he just watched. He was not ready to face her. He wasn't sure that he ever would be. He could not bring himself to forgive her, and he hurt too badly to be willing to help her. He didn't know that he could ever trust her, could ever see her and not picture her with his vile and repugnant roommate. So he turned away, and pretended not to see her.

Elphaba was close to tears again when she finally made it back to her room that evening. She was angry at herself, for feeling so weak and pathetic. Her classes felt like a blur, and she could only hope the notes she had taken would help her remember the material covered. She was due to meet with Madame Morrible and Galinda in barely an hour for their Sorcery seminar. The very idea of it drained her. She was also certain that the headmistress would inquire about her injuries, and she hoped both she and Galinda could keep up a convincing front.

There was something else plaguing her as well. Fiyero had been suspiciously absent that day, and Elphaba hoped it was simply a coincidence. She hoped he was not avoiding her.

I still need him, she thought desperately, this whole plan is ruined without him.

She knew what she'd done was considered to be a horrible betrayal. She knew that, in most cases, she could be called all sorts of things, including a liar and a whore. Still, she believed, this was not just any case. She and Fiyero were not just anybody.

I only did what I had to do, to get what I thought Avaric had. It was not a selfish love affair. And I told Fiyero I had to do whatever it takes…

Still, in the back of her mind, she wondered why she hadn't told him outright what Avaric wanted from her. She was afraid of the answers. Elphaba was terrified of why she'd kept the whole thing from him. She was desperately afraid of this sick ache she had in her chest. So she fought past it, determined that she could not give in to her own, self-centered emotions if she wanted to change the world.

She focused instead on how angry she was at Avaric. Just the briefest memory of his smug, self-centered smile made her want to vomit. He truly disgusted her, not just because he had blackmailed her, but because he was despicable enough to refuse to deliver on his end of the bargain. It sickened her to think of how he'd just taken from her, all while knowing he had no intention of giving her what she wanted.

Still, Elphaba supposed she should get used to the fact that people could be so very vile. Surely, if she intended to confront the Wizard, to stand up for right among wrong, she would be faced with far worse tasks than sleeping with Avaric. She was certain she might also endure far worse injuries than three broken ribs. As much as she wanted to maul Avaric with her bare hands, she knew she had to find a way to swallow the feeling and move on with what had to be done. She also had to find a way to focus on something other than the memory of Fiyero's devastated face.

It's not about me. It's about the cause. I don't have the luxury of feelings. It gets in the way. Surely, Fiyero can come to understand that…

Elphaba swallowed over the lump in her throat and forced herself to prepare for her Sorcery seminar. It was too risky to think any further on the matter now. She ran the risk of coming to some sort of realization about the nature of her relationship with Fiyero. She decided it was better not to know how she felt. It was better not to wonder why she'd lied to him, because even if she might've loved him, she couldn't.

Fiyero returned to his room after dinner that evening, praying that Avaric had found some activity to occupy his time elsewhere. He was granted about a half hour of peace before the door opened and his roommate sauntered inside. Fiyero glanced upward from his position on the sitting room sofa, and then purposely averted his gaze.

"Don't worry," Avaric called out as he crossed into the bedroom, "I won't be here long. I have a rendezvous with a young lady this evening."

Something flared up inside Fiyero, in spite of his anger towards Elphaba. He stood up and slapped his book shut. He strode through the bedroom door to find Avaric changing his shirt.

"A rendezvous? Has it even been a week since…since…" Fiyero could not get out the words to describe what he had walked in on just a few days prior.

"What? You expect me to sit in here and sulk? Like you?" Avaric exclaimed.

"Doesn't it even bother you a little that you used her? Do you have absolutely no moral compass?" Fiyero argued.

"I have no interest in having this fight with you again, Winkie boy. Like I told you this morning, she knew what she was doing. I didn't ply her with wine and love stories."

"But you lied to her about something that mattered a great deal to her!"

"Are you angry that she slept with me, or that she lied to you?" Avaric proposed, "Or are you really just angry because she used you?"

"She didn't use me!" Fiyero was shouting now, and hoped his tone did not reveal how hard he was trying to convince himself.

"Fiyero, let's take a large of dose of reality here. Elphaba Thropp knows what she wants, and she'll forsake all of us for it. I didn't see it in her, at first, and maybe now that's part of what's so blame attractive about her. She's not shy, demure, or sensitive. She gives and takes from some deep, raw, pit of selfish determinism."

"Are you making a point?" Fiyero looked ready to explode.

Avaric sighed, running his hand through his tousled hair, "You're not angry with me because I slept with her."

"I think that's exactly why I'm angry with you!" Fiyero clenched his fists.

"No," Avaric's tone was even, "you're angry because she did it willingly. She knew exactly what she was doing. She's more like me than you want to admit. You're so angry, because you know she doesn't love either one of us."

Rage boiled up inside of Fiyero and mixed with the agony of a bitterly broken heart. He couldn't restrain himself, and he coiled back and punched Avaric squarely in the jaw.

Avaric reeled for a moment, and then touched his lip, where a trickle of blood flowed. He narrowed his eyes and stepped up to Fiyero, so they were almost eye to eye. In a low, growling voice he said, "She's good in bed, isn't she? You were right, you know, she does know what she's doing. And that last time…damn."

Fiyero could see in Avaric's face how vividly he remembered it. He felt frozen in place, with so much pent up anger, as his roommate grabbed a dinner jacket and strode out of the room with a slam of the door. Fiyero collapsed onto the bed then, wanting to scream and punch the walls. He had no idea how he was supposed to endure this. Not only did he have this disgusting memory of Elphaba quite literally straddling Avaric, but he had to live with him. He had to lie down in the same room, knowing Avaric was probably fantasizing about Elphaba and all that she'd done to him. And beneath it all, he was angry because he knew Avaric was right. What ripped him apart the most was knowing she'd actually believed she was doing the right thing. She had willing done for Avaric everything she'd done with him, because to her, nothing was sacred. Her heart was untouchable. Her cause came before him and everyone else.

Eventually, Fiyero got up, crossed to the washroom, and shut the door tightly. He sat down on the stool and cried till he was hoarse, hoping to the Unnamed God that Avaric would not return to witness it.