This Romeo is bleedin'
But you can't see his blood.
It's nothing but some feelings,
That this old dog kicked up.

It's been rainin' since you left me,
Now I'm drownin' in the flood.
You see I've always been a fighter,
But without you, I'll give up.

I can't sing a love song,
Like the way it's meant to be.
I guess I'm not that good anymore,
But that's just me.

I will love you,
Always.
And I'll be there forever and a day,
Always.

Always, Bon Jovi

Chapter 26

Avaric went for Matvei, and found him sitting in the dimly lit suite on the third floor. He was watching Mia sleep, his face set in a faraway expression. Avaric cleared his throat softly. Matvei stood quickly, his expression painfully hopeful.

Avaric couldn't find any words, so he just shook his head, and then dropped his chin to his chest.

Matvei said nothing for a long time, and then stood up stiffly and silently left the room. Avaric stepped aside as he carefully shut the door, as not to wake Mia. He watched as Matvei walked down the hall, clenching his fists and shaking his head. Suddenly, he stopped, perhaps ten yards from Avaric. Matvei seized one of the decorative statues on an ornate pedestal, and heaved it against the far wall. He let out a wail, and then dropped to his knees. He put his face in his hands and sobbed, and Avaric was at a complete loss.

For the thousandth time, Avaric wished he'd stayed at home. He wished he'd stayed away from Fiyero and Elphaba and this whole disaster. He had never been comfortable with grief and suffering, and now he was drowning in it. Here was a man he barely knew, crumpled on the floor in front him, devastated. He had no words. So Avaric turned and leaned against the wall, wanting to flee the whole situation, but having grown up too much to act on the impulse. He just stood there, twisting his hands together, until Matvei could compose himself.

When Matvei finally stood and trudged somberly back down the hallway, Avaric cleared his throat again. Unwillingly cast into the role of realist, he said, "We have to tell her…Mia…she has to know."

Matvei's eyes were red and swollen, his hair disheveled and his face etched with grief. Still, he nodded. He stood outside the door for several moments, and then drew a deep breath before slipping quietly inside.

I don't envy him…telling a child she's motherless… Avaric thought. He stared at the closed door for some time, wanting to leave, and yet too caught up in the web of grief to move.

Some time later, they all stood in the room where Elphaba lay, trying to be strong for a five year-old child. The doctor had retired to his quarters for some much needed sleep, and Galinda still sat beside the bed. She had covered Elphaba with a thick blanket, to hide the wounds, and she had lit the room with only a few guttering candles. It was her own sort of memorial, and it made Elphaba's appearance less shocking for the little girl.

Matvei held tightly to Mia's hand as they crossed the room to the bed. Mia's face was splotchy from crying, and she tugged nervously at her hair. The little girl climbed into the chair opposite Galinda and sat on her knees, staring and saying nothing. They all held their breath and cursed the reality of the situation as Mia touched her mother's face. She stroked Elphaba's hair and wound it through her fingers, still saying nothing.

Finally, she whimpered a little and asked Matvei, "But why did she die?"

"She was trying to stop bad things. She was trying to make Oz a better place," Matvei tried to explain.

Mia chewed her lip, and then argued, "But it's not. I hate this place…if she's gone!"

Galinda looked away then, and Matvei echoed, "I do too, a little bit…"

There was a long, tangible silence, with Mia twisting her mother's hair around her fingers. Suddenly, out of the silence, Mia began to sing. Her voice was small and shaking, but as sweet and beautiful as it had always been.

Baby mine, don't you cry.
Baby mine, dry your eyes.
Rest your head close to my heart,
never to part, baby of mine.

It was Elphaba's song for her, Matvei realized. It was the only lullaby Elphaba had ever sung, and she would always stop when Matvei entered the room. It was something that only she and Mia shared, and it calmed the little girl, even now.

They all stayed there until after noon, watching Mia and trying to find their own goodbye. However, closure was not easily found in such tragedy, and they eventually retired to the sitting room down the hall. All of the rooms in this part of the palace were generally used for the servants and for meetings with the staff. However, given their current situation, none of them cared for formalities. They all still wore the clothes from the previous day, and no one cared enough to suggest they change. The remaining staff moved around them quietly, trying to maintain order in the palace and meet the needs of their new leader, Lady Glinda.

When she would finally leave her mother, Mia shuffled quietly to the sitting room. She curled up next to Matvei and said nothing. She held tightly to his arm, and continued to twirl her hair around her fingers, as though there were some sort of lasting connection to Elphaba in the locks. After some time, she closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep. It was no surprise, since she'd spent a sleepless night, and had been grieving for her mother all morning.

Avaric leaned against the back of a chair, trying to decide how he could most tactfully leave. The atmosphere was so heavy and sad he felt like he was choking. He desperately needed some fresh air and a break from the blood, the crying, and the grief.

"I believe I should get back to my flat, for now at least. I don't think there's anything further I can do…" he stated.

Galinda turned slowly, trying to focus on him. She looked as though she were trying to sort through a fog of thoughts to find what she wanted to say. Avaric had just turned toward the door when she said, "Wait."

Avaric turned back, confused.

"There's something you should know," Galinda continued.

Avaric was caught off guard by the sudden sharpness in her tone. She looked more alert than she had in a day, so he sat down in one of the chairs, concerned.

Galinda sat up straighter and looked him in the eyes, "I know you want to run from this, Avaric. You've become a fairly decent man, I'll give you that. But this is still a bit much for your carefree spirit. You're grieving with us, but you want to walk way and put it behind you," she took a breath, "But before you do, I think you should know that you're more a part of this than you realize."

Avaric just looked confused.

"Avaric…Mia is yours. She's your daughter."

He sat there, absolutely stunned.

Galinda continued, "It's your daughter who's just lost her mother. It's your flesh and blood who's grieving."

Avaric had no words. For several minutes, he choked on everything he started to say. He looked at the little green girl, who was sleeping somberly. He'd known this was a possibility. He'd known since he first saw Mia at the restaurant that she could be his. Still, it had been an abstract idea, not rooted in anything concrete. Avaric had looked past it, convincing himself she was Fiyero's. Now, the abstract had become very real. She was his. Flesh and blood. Green skin and dark eyes. Slender fingers and unruly hair. Her contagious smile and the mischievous spark in her eye, they were his. Mia was his.

He finally choked out, "How do you know?"

Galinda sighed, "Elphie told me."

"But how…?"

"Something to do with the milk. Mia can't have milk. It seemed so silly, but somehow…" Galinda looked far away.

Avaric understood, then. He thought back several weeks, vaguely remembering rejecting the milk. It seemed ludicrous, that such a small thing had revealed so much. He could only imagine how shocked Elphaba had been. It certainly explained her reaction, though. And now, here they were, with Elphaba gone and Mia clinging to Matvei.

Avaric watched the little girl for a few minutes, feeling very conflicted. Was he supposed to love her? What was his role now? He had never before had such a tangible reminder of a decision he'd chosen to make in the past. He had many regrets, many things he wished he could change or handle differently. This, however, was not an intangible consequence. This was a child. Mia would be his child forever. Whether or not he chose to marry or settle down, she would always have part of him in her. He could not take this back. Still, he wondered what, if anything, she would want from him.

The questions kept coming, and he asked himself if this whole situation was, in fact, his fault. Had he somehow set all of this in motion when he'd leered at Elphaba that day as she lay naked in Fiyero's bed? Had his selfish lust sent their lives spiraling to this point? And if so, what was to be done now? Avaric understood that fathering a child did not make one a parent. As Mia clung to Matvei, he was conflicted.

Finally, Avaric shook his head and said, "I think I'll go outside for some air…I believe…I need to think…"

Galinda nodded as he left.

Matvei looked absolutely shocked at the revelation, and Galinda whispered, "I thought he should know."

Matvei nodded, "Yes…I suppose. It would be wrong to keep it from him. But…do you think he wants her?"

Galinda looked at her hands, and then answered, "I don't think Avaric's ever wanted a child. He's very different than he was, but still…"

"What?"

"I don't think he'd deny that she loves you. You're the only father she's ever known." Galinda finished.

Matvei calmed a little, "I know it's ludicrous for me to want to claim her…because she's not mine. Her mother wasn't my lover, but…they're my family. Mia's all I have…"

Galinda grimaced, "She's all any of us have…of Elphie…"

"I know…I think I'm just…I feel like I'm losing them again. I feel like I'm burying Katya again and…" Matvei couldn't finish.

There was a long, pregnant pause.

"Who was she?" Galinda asked softly.

"My wife," he finally answered, "She's been gone more than ten years now. And my little girl…Brinn."

Galinda really looked at him then, and her face softened into lines of compassion, "What happened to them?"

"They died when the last great plague swept through, when the city lost so many…" Matvei explained.

"I'm so sorry…" Galinda said. She paused for a moment and then asked, "Is that why…why you and Elphie were never…romantic?"

Matvei looked around the room, considering, "Perhaps. Although I don't think either of us ever wanted anything more than friendship. I've always felt as though it were up to me to protect her. It really felt like fate, or something else beyond us, that brought her into my restaurant that day…"

"Did she know…about your family?"

"Yes. Eventually, we kept very few secrets," Matvei explained, "Fae knew about Katya, and she knew that I had no interest in finding anyone to replace her."

"Why the name…Fae?" Galinda asked.

"That's what she called herself when I first saw her. It took quite some time before she finally gave me her real name and by then, it had stuck," Matvei said.

Galinda looked far away when she said, "I called her Elphie...I was the first…"

Matvei could appreciate the sentiment, "I think what made our situation work is that Fae had been burned by love or lust, whatever it might've been. And I have never been able to imagine myself with anyone other than Katya. I made a promise to my wife, and I still love her…it might be ridiculous, to love someone you can never have again, but I still do…"

Galinda felt a strange connection, as she realized she knew exactly how he felt. After a moment, she said, "I understand what it is, to love someone you cannot have…"

They sat there for a long time, neither speaking, each lost in their memories. Eventually, Matvei offered, "You look quite like her…like Katya. I think it's the hair…I haven't seen hair that shines like that since…her. It must be the Gillikinese blood…"

Galinda cocked her head, appreciating that he trusted her with such an admission, "Perhaps…" she mused, "And what of Mia? Does she remind you of…Brinn?"

Matvei shook his head, "No. Brinn was fair and golden, and quite shy. No…Mia is no one but Mia."

Galinda nodded, glad to know that Matvei's love for both Elphaba and Mia was not simply tied to his loss. She studied him, realizing there were very few genuinely good men, such as him, in all of Oz. It was good, she decided, that he was in their lives. Neither spoke for some time, as they lost themselves in memories and their present grief.

Finally, Matvei adjusted Mia on the sofa and said, "Did you know that Fiyero was there…at the restaurant…the night before all of this?"

Galinda's head snapped up, "No!"

Matvei twisted his hands together, "He came in wanting to talk with Fae, and she took him upstairs. I wanted to throw him out, but she insisted. I was shocked, because instead of fighting they were…intimate…"

"What?" Galinda screeched, "Intimate? With Fiyero?"

Matvei nodded.

"Then where in Oz is he?!"

Avaric had come back into the room just then, and he looked both shocked and concerned about what he had overheard.

Matvei looked at both of them, and then explained, "He left her. Apparently, he had some horrendous plan to…to sleep with her, and then leave her alone. He left an awful note…something to the effect of 'this is how it feels'…"

Avaric rubbed his temples and sighed, "Oh…sweet Oz…Fiyero…why now, would you become the master of revenge…"

"She wouldn't talk to me about it. She was horribly upset, but she took off in a rage…yesterday morning…" Matvei finished.

Galinda stood, clenching her fists while her voice rose, "That sick, hateful, horrendable man! And she loved him! She actually said she loved him!"

"Galinda…" Matvei tried to calm her.

"That's why she wasn't in the service hallway! That's why she was the one who shot the Wizard!" Galinda was screeching and crying now, "It's his fault! It was because of Fiyero!"

Avaric crossed the room and tried to take her hands, to get her to stop shrieking. She threw him off though, and shouted, "She didn't have to die, Avaric! She wasn't supposed to die!"

Mia woke then, rubbing her eyes. She was clearly startled by the screaming. Matvei put his arms around her, to calm her.

She looked around frantically, still disoriented from sleep, and said, "Mama? Mama?"

Matvei tried to quiet her, and they all saw the little girl realize once again that her mother was gone. She began to cry quietly, burying her face in Matvei's shirt. It was heartbreaking, and both Galinda and Avaric were quiet.

After a few minutes, Matvei said, "Why don't we all find a change of clothes? Then, maybe we should try to eat. It has to be done, and this won't be getting any easier…"

Galinda reluctantly nodded and said, "I hope you'll both stay at the palace…until we can have a suitable funeral…it would help me, if nothing else…"

Both men nodded, not willing to deny her that request.

Avaric stared at Mia as Matvei carried her from the room. Even in this situation, he couldn't help wondering about his place in her life. He'd found no easy answers, but he knew there would be a place. He knew it when he'd decided to come back into the room, instead of fleeing the palace altogether. He was in this for good, come what may.

It took Fiyero most of the day to get back into the Emerald City. By the time he reached the palace, it was well after dark and the night guards had already taken their posts. He paid the carriage driver well and then approached the front gate.

Fiyero bowed properly to the guards and asked, "Is there any way I could see Lady Glinda?"

The guards looked him over, and one answered, "No. The palace is under strict security measures. No one goes in except by special request of the Press Secretary."

"Please," Fiyero tried again, "I'm an old friend. I'm certain she would speak with me."

"No," the guard barked.

"Please! I've traveled all day and—"

The guard leveled his musket at Fiyero and said, "Come back tomorrow and make an appointment. If you're such a good friend, she will see you."

Fiyero backed away then, defeated. His shoulders slumped and he sulked around to the side of palace wall. Collapsing on a bench, he put his head in his hands and sighed. He'd been running on adrenaline all day, and now he was simply exhausted. He knew he should rent a room and get some sleep, but he couldn't make himself walk away from the palace. This was his mission, and he was determined to have it over with.

Fiyero leaned back against the bench and closed his eyes. He vowed to be up at the first light of dawn to make an appointment with Galinda. He wouldn't leave the palace until this was done. He'd come this far, and he wouldn't truly rest until he made peace his peace with Elphaba.

The following morning, Fiyero woke to pigeons pecking at his arms, hoping for breadcrumbs. The sun was incredibly bright, and it seemed that spring might finally be trying to take hold of the city. Fiyero blinked several times, trying to determine the time. It was later than he'd intended, but still too early for pedestrians to be eyeing him. He rose and straightened his clothes, trying to look like he hadn't slept on a bench. It was mostly fruitless, though, and he approached the main palace gate again.

There had been a change in the guards, and Fiyero asked again, "Please, is there any way I can see Lady Glinda?"

"No. You must make an appointment," the guard pointed him in the direction of a small hut near the palace wall.

There was clearly no one inside, and Fiyero begged, "Please! I must see her! I mean no harm!"

"No," the guard armed his musket.

Desperate, Fiyero cut around behind him and tried to scale the gate before they could reach him. He was unsuccessful, however, and the guards drug him down and wrenched his arms behind his back. He wrestled with them as two other guards unbarred the gate and forced him through. Then, they proceeded to drag him across the outer courtyard.

"Take him into the cellar, until Lady Glinda decides what to do with him," the third guard called after them.

Fiyero fought with all his might as they drug him into a side entrance and down a dark corridor. They passed the servants' quarters and rounded the corner into a large atrium. In a sudden, impossible twist of the arm of fate, Galinda happened to be making her way through the atrium at that very moment.

Fiyero saw her and called out, "Galinda!"

She turned suddenly, and froze, "Fiyero?" she squeaked, and waved an arm to stop the guards.

"Galinda!" he called out again when the guards had stopped dragging him. They still restrained him, and he said, "Please, I just want to talk to you for a moment!"

She looked torn, as Matvei and Avaric walked in behind her. Both men quickly surveyed the situation, and both recognized Fiyero. Matvei's eyes lit up with rage, and he crossed the room quickly. Before anyone could stop him, he pulled his fist back and punched Fiyero squarely in the jaw. Fiyero reeled, surprised at the power behind Matvei's fist.

Before he could respond, Matvei spat at him and yelled, "How dare you come back here! You disgust me! I don't care what Fae once did to you! You manipulated her, and treated her like…yesterday's garbage! Your hate and malice are disgusting!"

Matvei raised his arm, ready to strike Fiyero again, but Avaric was suddenly there, holding him back.

"Let's not have any more violence," he begged Matvei.

"Galinda!" Fiyero called out again.

She looked at him, her eyes filled with anger and pain, "Fiyero…." she whispered, "how could you? And why would you come back here? Haven't you caused enough suffering, with your well-planned revenge?"

Fiyero looked somewhat defeated.

"This is your fault Fiyero! What's happened to her…it's your fault!" she choked out.

"Galinda, please!" Fiyero begged, "I just want to see her! What I did was horrible, I know that. It was deliberately, terribly wrong. And it solved nothing, and I know that even more certainly. I just…want to apologize, and then I'll be out of your lives forever…"

Galinda studied him, trying to decide if he was sincere. She looked deep into his eyes, as though she was trying to find the boy she once knew. They were all still, with Matvei clenching his fists and the guards ready to remove him Fiyero.

Finally, Galinda whispered, "She's gone Fiyero. She's dead…so I'm afraid they'll be no apologizing."

Fiyero reeled, and he felt as though he'd been punched again. This is what he had feared. This was the ending he'd begged the Unnamed God he wouldn't have to face.

She died with the pain of what you did to her. And there's no undoing it. There's no apologizing and making peace with her. She's gone, Fiyero realized. The regret was much worse than he'd imagined.

Everyone was very still for a long moment, until Galinda spoke, "There's nothing more to be said, Fiyero. You should go."

To his own surprise, Fiyero whispered, "Can I see her?"

"No," Galinda answered, "You don't deserve that."

"I know," Fiyero said with defeat, "I just…I wanted to make it right. To move on with our lives…finally."

Galinda just looked at him, her face still full of hurt for her friend.

"Please?" Fiyero tried again, "Galinda…it's me…it's just Fiyero…"

She was still unconvinced, when Avaric laid a hand on her shoulder, "Galinda…he's right. Let's make peace with all this. Let Elphaba go in peace. And it's him…this is him. This is the Fiyero you remember."

Galinda caught the meaning in his last statement, and she gave in. Fiyero looked as devastated as the rest of them, and he was clearly both sober and remorseful. She gave Matvei a long look and said to the guards, "Release him. Fiyero…come with me."

The guards released their grip and backed away, and Fiyero started to follow Galinda.

Matvei stopped him though, with a twist of his arm, "If it were my decision, I would throw you from this palace this moment. If you try anything…if your intentions are anything but honorable, I will kill you. Do you understand that?"

Fiyero nodded, convinced that Matvei might actually follow through with the threat. Galinda led the way back down the hallway towards the servants' quarters, winding through the corridors until she came to a closed door. Her hands trembled and she took a deep breath as she turned the handle. She slipped inside and carefully lit the candles once more. Then, she motioned for Fiyero to enter.

"Avaric will be outside the door with one of my guards. If anything is amiss in this room, you will be imprisoned and hung. Do you understand?" Galinda instructed.

Fiyero was disturbed at the hardness in her voice. She was so far from the soft, frilly girl he remembered, that he barely recognized her. He just nodded, though, because he had no argument. Galinda walked away then, pulling Matvei with her. He unwillingly left, and Avaric gave Fiyero a troubled look before slipping out the door.

Alone, Fiyero turned toward the figure lying on one of the beds. He walked slowly, feeling a weight in his chest he hadn't expected. He stopped beside the bed and stared at her.

Elphaba.

She was covered by a thick blanket, but Fiyero could see the blood-stained bandages wrapped around her chest. Her right arm lay outside the blanket beside her body. She was absolutely still, with her eyes closed and her dark eyelashes splayed across her cheeks. She was ghostly pale and the flickering candlelight cast her in a strange, amber glow. Still, she was Elphaba. Her features were still strong and angular. Her skin was still uniquely green, if somewhat faded looking. Her hair, scattered across the bed, was still beautiful.

Beautiful.

The floodgates of Fiyero's emotions suddenly burst, and a choking knot of realization formed in his throat. She was still beautiful to him. In spite of all the hurt, betrayal, and wasted years, she was beautiful to him. He never imaged he would feel that again. Fiyero hadn't wanted to feel it. He'd spent years turning love into hate. However, in the moment, he felt as though all of his memories were assaulting him simultaneously.

He remembered when he'd first seen her at Shiz, and she'd been all snarky comments and withering glances. He remembered making love to her in front of the glassy pond and wanting to freeze the moment forever. He remembered listening to her for hours as she described her plans and dreams. He remembered blatantly ignoring her denial that she loved him. He remembered how she could drive him wild with just the intensity in her smoldering eyes. And he remembered the nauseating disgust he'd felt when he'd found her with Avaric.

Fiyero thought about how long it had taken him to truly hate her. He vividly remembered how he had made love to her just a day ago, and had felt nothing but malice. But now, he had let go of the hate. He had let it go, and left himself open to feeling what was beneath. Seeing Elphaba again now, he realized he'd never stopped loving her. He'd never been able to take a wife or live more than a day without potent liquor because, just beneath the hate, had been unrequited, undeniable love. It was what had made the hate so strong and everything else so unappealing. It was what had made him want to scream and lash out the moment he'd seen her, because she had a part of his heart he would never get back.

And now here she lay, lifeless before him, and there was no chance for apologies. There would be no tearful confession with the hope of forgiveness. She was gone, and Fiyero was left with just his memories and gut-wrenching regret.

He dropped his head onto the bed and couldn't hold back the sobs that shook his shoulders. He hadn't cried in quite some time. He hadn't cried since he'd left Shiz and stopped locking himself in the washroom to nurse his wounds. Fiyero gave in to it now, though, and cried until his throat was raw. Then, when there were no more tears, he sat there, hollow. He ran a hand over Elphaba's arm and wound his fingers through her more delicate ones. He touched her cheek and brushed his hand against her soft hair.

He pressed his eyes closed and silently said, Elphaba, forgive me. We've made our share of mistakes…but I love you…always…

When Fiyero opened his eyes, he caught a flicker of movement in the room. He looked around, and noticed that the only other light came from one of the windows, which was open a few inches. The other shades were drawn, but this one had been raised slightly. Looking around, Fiyero couldn't find the source of the movement until it was in front of him.

It was a butterfly, and it had come to rest on one of Elphaba's slender fingers. Fiyero just stared at it, not sure that he'd ever seen such an appropriate, impossible example of symbolism.

Like the brush of a butterfly's wings…

Fiyero remembered the statement Elphaba had once made as he stared at the beautiful insect. It moved its black and yellow wings carefully, as though testing the air around itself. He was careful not to move, for fear of ruining the moment. Suddenly, there was another flicker of movement, and Fiyero was certain it was the butterfly as it took to flight once more. Then, to his absolute and utter disbelief, Elphaba's finger twitched again.

Fiyero had seen a lot of death in his lifetime. His father had been a hunter, and his tribe had always been very open with burial. He had seen the dead buried and cremated. He had paid respect to many corpses. Never once had he seen one twitch like this. He slowly ran his hand over Elphaba's again, and then jumped when her finger moved once again.

Then, with his heart racing, Fiyero placed his face very close to Elphaba's. He hovered there for some time, waiting. After several, painstaking minutes, he felt the slightest breath on his cheek. It was barely warm enough to register, but it was breath all the same. She was breathing, however faintly. She made no other movement, no other stirring. Fiyero couldn't be sure if the next breath would truly be her last. Still, she was alive. Somehow, she was alive.

Fiyero knew he should run for someone, but he hesitated. Before he went screaming into the hallway, before he proclaimed that Elphaba was somehow breathing, before Galinda started sobbing and the doctor began examining her, he wanted a moment. He pressed his forehead against hers, waiting anxiously for another soft breath. When he finally felt it, Fiyero closed his eyes and let it all go. He let go of the past, the anger, the pain, and all the horrible regret. He cast it onto the wings of the butterfly, to be carried to the farthest reaches of the wind.