Come stop your crying,
It will be all right.
Just take my hand, hold it tight.
I will protect you, from all around you.
I will be here, don't you cry.

For one so small, you seem so strong.
My arms will hold you,
keep you safe and warm.
This bond between us, can't be broken.
I will be here,
Don't you cry.

You'll Be In My Heart, Phil Collins

Chapter 17

Elphaba sat there, holding the tiny bundle of baby until it began to whimper. It flailed its tiny arms out of its blanket in the uncontrolled, jerking way of newborns. She stared at it, and realized that she couldn't do it. Although the greater part of her said she would be sparing this child a lifetime of heartbreak, she couldn't drown it. It felt a bit like killing herself, and she'd never been able to do that, either.

Elphaba carefully sat back on the soft bank of the river. She studied the child's face, looking for answers. She tried to determine who might have fathered it, and then wondered if it mattered now. She looked at its fingers, which were long and expressive, like her own. She marveled at the way its skin matched hers perfectly, which was something no other person had ever achieved. Suddenly, Elphaba realized she had yet to answer the most important question. She peeled back the ragged blankets and untied the makeshift diaper Matvei had fashioned. She peered between its tiny legs, trying to focus in the dark.

It was a girl.

Elphaba's emotions reeled, and she wondered if Melena had felt this way some twenty years previous. She wondered if her mother had ever felt any connection to her, or if she'd been able to cast her away from the moment she saw her. Elphaba wondered how different her life might have been, had Melena loved her. If she'd been accepted by one person, would she have grown up with such a persistent feeling of alienation? Elphaba couldn't answer the questions, and she had no idea if she was capable of treating this child any differently. However, she could not tear her eyes away from her tiny daughter. It was as if there was an invisible thread, thin yet unbreakable, between them.

The little thing began to wail from being unwrapped in the chill of night, and Elphaba swaddled her once again. She tucked the warm, little body beneath her cloak, and took a long, heavy breath. She knew she was about to complicate her life terribly. She knew that everything she'd hoped to accomplish would now be much more difficult. Elphaba realized she would never be going back to Shiz, but she also knew the choice had been made. She gathered herself up and tried to stand.

Then, she realized how very tired and weak she was. She had come nearly two miles from Matvei's restaurant, and she wasn't sure she had the strength to return. She also asked herself if she wanted to return. Matvei would realize what she had done, and he would certainly be angry at her intentions. Would he even take her back, knowing she had the potential for such cruelty?

Elphaba wandered for some time, as dawn broke over the city. She made her way past the docks and the fish markets, as they prepared to open for the day. She shuffled slowly through the meat-packing district, and then wrapped herself more tightly in her cloak as she made her way through the wealthier theater district. She was tired, and her body ached from walking so much after having given birth. Elphaba realized she was moving terribly slowly, and that the sun was rising to its highest point in the sky. It was warm, which kept the infant quiet, but Elphaba's head began to spin. Feeling a touch desperate, she made her way towards Matvei's restaurant, in spite of her trepidation. She could think of no better option, and she was afraid of being found unconscious in the streets if she didn't find a place to rest soon.

When she finally stumbled through the side door of the restaurant, Elphaba was exhausted and nauseous. She stood there, just inside the door, for a long time, holding onto the stair rail for support. Matvei appeared after a few long moments, having heard the door open.

"Fae!" he looked startled, afraid, and then angry, "Where have you been? And where is…"

Elphaba stopped him by pulling the infant out from under her cloak.

Matvei took it, and she whispered, "I couldn't do it," before collapsing onto the floor.

Some time later, Elphaba woke to find herself on Matvei's sofa, wrapped in a soft blanket. She sat up slightly, and realized her clothes had been changed.

She must have looked alarmed, because Matvei threw out from across the room, "Taia changed your clothes. You were out pretty solidly, and there was blood…"

Elphaba looked away, embarrassed.

Matvei made them both tea, even though the weather was warm, and placed the steaming cup in Elphaba's hands. She realized she was trembling from pushing her body so hard after having lost so much blood. Matvei sat in the adjacent chair and they stayed that way for a while, staring at the embers of an unnecessary fire.

After some time, the infant began to wail, and Matvei started to go to her. Elphaba stopped him, however, and crossed to the bureau drawer herself. She lifted the baby carefully, still amazed at how small she was.

Elphaba turned, and Matvei threw out, "She's hungry."

"I thought as much," Elphaba shot back, knowing he was challenging her, to see if she was capable of meeting the needs of an infant.

Elphaba took the baby upstairs to her room, shrugging off Matvei's offers of help. She had been the one to birth this thing, and the burden of its life fell on her. Certainly, she could manage to feed it. She took it over to her bed and unswaddled it once again. She pulled her nightdress down and, after several frustrating attempts, she managed to get the child to latch onto her breast.

It was bizarre, even disconcerting, to have this little life drawing its nourishment from her. Although Elphaba had always been one to value life, she'd never been this intimately connected to another creature's raw and basic need to survive. For all the time she'd spent trying to understand and fight for Animals' rights, she'd never had the livelihood of a living thing placed solely in her hands. She'd never imagined she would be a mother, never believed she was even capable of reproducing. Still, here was this infant, looking so much like her and needing her and her alone.

So Elphaba did what she knew. She kept it alive. One day at a time she fed and diapered, and slept when she could. She chose to see the whole thing as an extension of what she'd spent so much time studying. She had asked, after all, if every living thing was the same at birth. She had wondered at what point a sentient being begins to be able to communicate. So it was easier to look at the whole process of mothering as research, as something she could use in the future. It made it simpler to pretend she didn't love the thing, to pretend the wide-eyed infant was just a subject she was required to stare at for hours on end.

Matvei caught her like that one evening, when they'd both had weary days. He came up the stairs after scrubbing the kitchen clean and found her curled up on his sofa. Elphaba held the sleeping baby, who was now about three weeks old, in her arms. She knew she looked tired and that her hair was in quite a disarray, but she made no excuse. Matvei stripped off his work apron and crossed to sit beside her.

They'd said very little to each other in the past three weeks, and there were a great number of questions still unanswered.

"Everything ok?" Matvei offered softly.

Elphaba nodded slowly. They sat quietly for a few minutes, surrounded by so many things they'd yet to say.

Finally, Elphaba spoke up, "I can never repay you, for how you've let me stay here, like this."

Matvei looked thoughtful for a moment, "Yes you can," he finally answered.

"How?" Elphaba raised an eyebrow.

"Name her."

"What?"

"Name her," Matvei insisted, "so I have some measure of peace that you won't try to get rid of her again."

There was a long silence. Then, Elphaba softly said, "I already did."

"When?" Matvei looked genuinely shocked.

"Somewhere along the way. It just made sense…"

"So…what do you call her?" he looked expectant.

"Mia," she whispered.

"Why?" Matvei asked, not unkindly.

"Because, it's the only thing I know for certain about her. It's an old, Gillikinese name that means mine. And that's all I know for sure, that's she's mine…"

Matvei stared at the two of them for some time, taking in both woman and baby. He looked caught between relief and pain, perhaps reliving his own memories. Elphaba dared not ask where his thoughts ran.

After some time, Matvei finally asked, "Could you have done it? Could you have just left her somewhere?"

"Yes," was Elphaba's immediate reply.

He looked taken aback.

"But I wasn't going to leave her," Elphaba continued, "I was going to drown her."

Matvei looked horror-stricken, and he appeared to have no answer. Finally, he choked out, "Why?"

"Because she's green. You cannot possibly understand what life is like, for someone so hideously colored. It seemed the most merciful choice…"

Without thinking, Matvei said, "But it's a beautiful color…"

Elphaba caught his eyes and shook her head, "Don't do that. Just because I sleep upstairs, doesn't mean I'm just a few steps from joining you in your bed."

Matvei looked genuinely wounded when he answered, "Only if you don't do that."

Elphaba looked perplexed.

"I'm not a young suitor trying to woo the first young girl I find, Fae. I'm nearly thirty-three. I've loved and lost. I've married and cared for a child. I'm a fairly simple person, and maybe I'm wrong, but that's how I tend to see things. You stumbled into my restaurant and I just couldn't see sending you back out into that hateful world alone. Maybe I'm soft…maybe I'm sentimental, but the one thing I know for sure is that I do not play games with the heart. I care about you. I want you to be whatever it is you want to be, with that baby. But I am not asking you into my bed. I suppose it's just nice, to have company, because it's been very quiet around here for the past eight years…"

Elphaba was quiet then, obviously somewhat remorseful about what she'd implied. Matvei stood to make them some tea, and when he returned, she said softly, "I'm sorry."

Matvei nodded, and took the baby so Elphaba could drink. He placed the infant in the basket beside the sofa. They stared at her silently for some time, watching her tiny chest move as she slept.

At some point, Matvei said, "Mia?"

Elphaba nodded, certain.

Matvei smiled, wordlessly, and in spite of herself, Elphaba was glad he approved.

The days continued to pass in sequence, becoming weeks and then months in time. Before either of them realized it, the season of Lurelinemas was upon the city again. For Elphaba, it was a shock to realize that it had now been nearly a year since she'd left Shiz. She struggled, because she had hoped to have accomplished so much more in a year's time. However, Mia's birth had also made her realize how very young she was. When she looked at her daughter, she recognized that it had been a very short time since she'd been a screaming infant herself. It gave her patience, which is something Elphaba had never had in great measure before.

She was still ambitious as ever, but somehow, she found she had a greater perspective on what she hoped to accomplish. Elphaba spent her days working amongst the patrons at the restaurant, hearing snatches of their conversation and occasionally bantering with them. They had stopped staring, now that she was no longer pregnant, and the regulars ceased to notice her coloring at all. From them, she heard news from across Oz. She was both pleased and concerned to hear that the Wizard had relaxed some of his restrictions on the Animals.

Elphaba was certain it had nothing to do with a change in his heart, and more to do with strengthening his political alliances before he banished the Animals altogether. She often wondered if he had figured out, as she had, how valuable an alliance with the west might be. She wondered if he might be working on those ties before proceeding with the rest of his agenda.

Knowing she would never be able to rise up the political ladder as a graduate of Shiz University, Elphaba determined she would have to start a grass roots revolution of her own. Based on what she often heard in the restaurant, there was more than enough opposition to the Wizard to justify such a movement. So she once again pulled out her books and began to work, with Mia often sleeping next to her.

Elphaba also allowed herself the privilege of venturing out into the city a bit. Mostly, she went to the center city library, but she occasionally explored the neighborhoods around Matvei's restaurant. She saw first-hand the way the Animals that were left struggled to make a living while complying with the Wizard's restrictions. Elphaba realized how lucky Taia was, to still have a job at the hospital. It pained her, to see the Animals crammed into dirty, tenement housing.

As the weather grew colder, Elphaba had taken to bringing her books downstairs into Matvei's room, so she could read by the fire. Mia had grown round and fat, which Elphaba took as good sign in babies, and she was content to lie next to her mother. She would coo and gurgle, and grasp at the colorful strands of cloth tied to her bassinet while Elphaba worked.

On just such a night, just a few days shy of Lurelinemas, Elphaba let her thoughts wander, having mostly exhausted the text before her. Mia slept soundly, because it had gotten quite late. Elphaba thought back to one year previous, when she'd been alone with Galinda at Shiz. She had still been unaware of her pregnancy, and she and her roommate had become so close that week. The memory of Galinda was, strangely, the thing that hurt the most about the past year. Elphaba was still not sure how to put her life back on track, or how to accomplish what she wanted most, but she had gained enough perspective to believe it could be done. She had even begun to question the usefulness of Shiz. Still, she hated that she'd left Galinda alone. Elphaba had truly believed that she would return and absolve Galinda's fears. She could only imagine her friend's confusion and hurt when she'd never come back.

"You look sad…" Matvei's gentle voice broke into her thoughts.

Elphaba looked up, trying to pull herself out of her reverie, "I suppose I was just…thinking."

"About anything in particular?" Matvei pressed gently.

"I was remembering a friend…mostly because, I believe she was my only real friend," Elphaba confessed.

"Someone you can't see anymore?"

"I can't see any of them anymore," Elphaba said, more forcefully than she intended.

Matvei sighed and rubbed his eyes, "Fae…you've been here what, a year? And every time we talk, you put up a wall. How long will it take before you believe that I really am your friend? That I just want to know something about you? I've seen you every day for a year. We work together. I was there when you birthed this baby, and yet we're strangers. Why?"

Elphaba chewed her lip, fighting with herself. She knew she owed him something. He'd been nothing but kind, and she knew she could have stumbled into a far worse situation in the city. Still, to tell him her story made the choice to stay here permanent. Elphaba knew she could not disappear once he knew where she'd come from. But then, perhaps it was time.

She took a heavy breath and offered, "I came from Shiz. Shiz University. I was a student studying both Life Sciences and Sorcery. I left when I realized I was pregnant..."

Matvei furrowed his brow, "You just, left?"

Elphaba nodded, "I came to the city with a friend, and I sent her back alone."

"So...what of your family?"

Elphaba snorted, "I'm sure they were upset, at the inconvenience of having to look for me, but I'm no great loss."

"To them, perhaps," Matvei said softly.

Elphaba looked away and continued, "There's no significant story to tell. I was at school for a year and a half. I got pregnant and left, and I had just one friend whom I truly miss…"

"And your family…you don't feel they deserve to know where you are?

Elphaba considered it, imagining what would happen if she wrote to Frex and Nessa, telling them she was alive. Finally, she answered, "No. They aren't capable of understanding. It would hurt them less to think I've been abducted, murdered even. They'll perhaps grieve, and go on. If they saw this child, they would die of shame."

"That's horrible," Matvei said, looking genuinely upset.

"We all have our scars," Elphaba offered.

Matvei nodded, understanding. After a moment, he asked, "So what now? You must have greater ambitions than this," he indicated his home, "I see the books you read. I know you're smart. Smarter than most anyone I've met. What do you do now?"

Elphaba closed her eyes, remembering a time when Galinda has asked the same question. The memory hurt, causing an ache in her chest. She took a breath, and tried to answer, "I want to challenge the Wizard. I believe there is enough support for a campaign to remove him as ruler. He has segregated and desecrated our land, he has nearly plunged us into civil war, he has promoted genocide against the Animals, and he seeks to alienate every race except his own. It must stop."

Matvei stared at her, shocked. Certainly, he had not expected such an answer. After a few minutes, he finally spoke, "The Wizard? The Wizard? You want to challenge the Wizard…by yourself?"

Elphaba smirked a little, "No. I want to start a movement to challenge the Wizard. I already tried once by myself, without much success."

Matvei shook his head and laughed a little, "I suppose I should have guessed. For all I don't know about you, I am familiar with your raw nerve."

Elphaba laughed a little, in spite of herself, and it was nice, because it had been so long since she'd found anything funny. Then, she turned and watched the fire for a few moments. She broke the silence to ask, "And what about you? What's in your future?"

Matvei looked thoughtful before answering, "This, I suppose. I have my work, and I enjoy it. I like the people. Occasionally, I like to think I make a difference for someone," he looked pointedly at her.

Elphaba turned away, because he was right, "I suppose I could have done worse," she finally tossed out.

Matvei chuckled and moved to stoke the fire before preparing for bed. Elphaba watched him, fighting with something within herself. After a few minutes, she called out, "Matvei?"

He turned to look at her.

"My name is Elphaba," she said quietly.

He raised a brow, but said nothing.

"I couldn't tell you my name, at first. I didn't think you should know…"

"Elphaba?" Matvei questioned.

She nodded, "Fae is a name I once imagined I'd use if I managed to start some sort of secret revolution…"

Matvei studied her, and Elphaba tried to decide if he was angry.

"I like Fae. I suits you. But I appreciate your honesty."

Elphaba nodded, and gathered up her books. She left Mia to sleep near the warmth of the fire, knowing she wouldn't disturb Matvei in the night any longer. She climbed the steps to her room and stacked the books by her bed. Then, Elphaba stood there for some time, shivering.

She'd lost a bit of her edge over the past year, that she knew. She liked to believe it helped her to focus. Still, she also realized how alone she was. Having allowed her thoughts to wander earlier, she understood how very much she missed Galinda. Her last memories were of her friend curled next to her in their bed, keeping each other warm and less afraid. Elphaba wondered who slept in the bed next to her friend now, and if Galinda could care for another roommate in the same way. Of all the things that had gone askew in her life, that was perhaps the only thing Elphaba truly wished she could change. If she could've spared Galinda the hurt, she would change that. It made her ache, and Elphaba wrapped her arms around herself in the dark.

After a few more moments, she crept back down the stairs. Matvei was in bed already, and the room was lit only by the fire. She crossed over to the bed and sat down on the quilts, startling Matvei.

He sat up and asked, "Fae? Is something wrong?"

She studied her hands, wringing them together in her own way, "Do you think," she started uncertainly, "that I could sleep here, and it be nothing more than that? There's not romance between us, I believe we both know that. But…I think we both miss there being someone else on the other side of the bed…"

Matvei looked at her, and Elphaba could see the sadness in him. She knew he was lonely and a bit lost in his life. And she trusted him, more than she'd trusted her own father.

When Matvei answered, his voice cracked a little, "I would be honored."

So she crawled under the covers and they lay there in the silence, thinking. After some time, Matvei asked into the darkness, "Do you think you'll ever be able to tell me…who Mia's father is?"

Elphaba bristled and said, "She has no father."

Matvei said no more.

That night, Elphaba fell asleep imagining that it was Galinda who lay next to her, ready to hold her hand through whatever might come. Strangely, though, her dreams were filled with images of Fiyero and Avaric, entwined in a montage of pleasant and painful scenes. Troubled, she woke while it was still dark, trying to shake off the dreams.

Checking on Mia, she told herself over and over, She has no father. She has no father…