AN: Yes, it was too easy. No, it's not over yet :P.

PocketSevens: Because you know me by now? (Also - you said "they're alive and free" and now I keep singing that to the tune of "Yes, I'm alone, but I'm alone and free" from Frozen.)

SnowQueen: Yes, I'm really doing a fic about Elphaba's death... but I promise it somehow has a happy ending. I don't know yet what I'll be doing after that one.

18.

They wandered through the forest for hours, eventually stopping when it became too dark for them to see anything. The wind had picked up, making them fear that a blizzard really was on its way. Fiyero's knee ached, even though he had mostly been limping; and Elphaba was pale and quiet, her bullet wound throbbing, even though she refused to say anything about it. Every time Fiyero asked her how she was doing, she said she was fine, but he knew better. He said he wanted to stop because his knee hurt – which was true, but he thought she needed to stop at least as badly as he did.

He found a spot underneath a tree that was mostly clear of snow and they sat down there, their backs leaning against the tree trunk.

"Let me have a look at your side," he said, but she shook her head.

"It's too dark," she said. "You can't see anything, anyway. I'm fine, don't worry." She chewed the inside of her cheek. "We shouldn't stay out here all night."

"What else do you want to do?"

"I don't know." She leant her head back against the tree trunk, closing her eyes. Fiyero scooted closer to her. When he felt her shivering, he put his arm around her carefully and tucked her into his side, guiding her head to rest on his shoulder. She curled into him and they stayed like that for a while, neither of them saying anything.

"It's because it's my fault," Elphaba suddenly whispered, so quietly he almost didn't hear her over the howling wind. "That I take care of Nessa the way I do."

It was completely dark around them and she kept her head on his shoulder, which meant he could not see her face. He listened to her voice instead as she talked about the day her sister had been born; how her parents had been afraid she would be born with the same skin colour as Elphaba and how Frexspar had made his wife chew milk flowers in order to prevent that. A light snow started to fall, blown around by the cold wind, and Fiyero put both of his arms around his wife in an attempt to try to keep her warm as she kept on talking. Her voice soft but steady, she told him that Nessarose had come too early, her legs paralysed, and that Melena Thropp had never awakened again.

"That's it," she said. He combed his fingers through her hair and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She sighed, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "Now you know. Me taking care of her... it's my way of trying to redeem myself. To make things right. Even though I will never be able to do that," she said sadly, "because Nessie will never walk and she will never know her mother, all because of me."

"Fae..." He shook his head in disbelief. It didn't make any sense that she was believing this, and yet it also explained so much about her behaviour.

He cupped the side of her face and turned it towards him, even though he could barely see her in the dark. He rested his forehead against hers.

"Nessa's condition," he said, "and your mother's death... it's horrible. It is. But it's not your fault, Elphaba. You have no reason to try and redeem yourself, because you didn't do anything wrong. Surely you realise that?"

She sighed again. "I guess I do... on a rational level," she admitted. "But it doesn't feel that way. All I know is that my parents were so desperate to keep my sibling from being born green that they were willing to take the risk of a disability – of my mother's death – in order to keep that from happening. What does that say about me?"

"About you? Nothing," he said firmly. "It would say a lot about your parents if they really thought that way, but I doubt they did, Fae. I don't think they knew the risks of those milk flowers. If they'd known, they probably wouldn't have done it." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "And maybe... maybe they didn't do it because they didn't want a green child," he said softly. "Maybe they did it because they saw that you were already having a hard time at such a young age, being different, and they did not want that for another child of theirs. They're your parents, Fae. They – or, your mother, at least," he amended, "probably only wanted what was best for their children."

"Father does hate my skin colour," she said. "I know that. He just didn't want another green child because it would be embarrassing for him – another disgrace. But..." She seemed a little dazed as she thought about it. "Do you really think my mother could maybe have agreed to taking the milk flowers because... because she didn't want this new baby to be treated the same way I was? By the other Munchkins, but also by Father?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I don't know your father very well and obviously, I didn't know your mum... but I think it's a possibility. Elphaba... I really do think your mother loved you. I do." He cocked his head a little to the side. "How about you ask your father about it, next time he visits?" he asked suddenly.

"Ask my father whether or not my mother loved me?" Elphaba sounded sceptical. "That..." She faltered as she thought about it. "I mean..."

Fiyero grinned in the dark. "See? I don't always have stupid ideas."

"Before, I wouldn't even have dared to try. But now... he has been behaving more decently towards me lately," she said in wonder. "I could ask him." She bit her lip. "I'm just not sure whether I'll like the answer."

Fiyero kissed her temple. "We'll deal with it then, okay? But I'm sure of it, Fae." His reasoning behind that certainty was that if both her parents had hated her from the moment she was born because of her skin colour, they would never have kept her to take care of her; they would probably have left her somewhere, at an orphanage or a mauntery, maybe... or worse. He didn't tell her that, though. It wasn't a very cheerful thought, anyway, and if she hadn't thought of it herself yet, then he didn't want to put the idea into her head.

She shivered and he took off his coat, draping it around her shoulders instead. She protested, saying he would be cold, but he brushed her off.

"You know me," he said, grinning at her. "I'm always hot."

She chuckled, then gasped and let out a soft whimper.

"What's wrong?" Fiyero asked in alarm.

"Nothing," she said a bit difficultly. "Laughing just doesn't feel very pleasant after being shot."

Fiyero's heart ached for her, but he had no idea what he could do. They couldn't keep going in the dark – they could fall into a ravine if they didn't see it in time. It was too dangerous. They'd just have to stay here and wait out the night. He hoped she was right and that she wasn't hurt too badly. He didn't even want to think about what could happen if her wound kept bleeding and they had to spend the entire night here.

"Maybe..." Elphaba's teeth were chattering, even though she tried to stop it. "Maybe I could... warm us up somehow."

"We can't make a fire," Fiyero murmured, rubbing her arm and huddling in the coat with her to try to warm them both up. "I don't know where those men went, but they could spot us from far away if we made a fire."

Elphaba nodded. "I wasn't talking about a fire."

"No," he said immediately. "Don't use your magic. You're weak enough as it is."

Even in the dark, he could see her eyes flash and he knew he'd made a mistake. "Did you just call me weak?"

"Fae, I meant –"

"I am not, under any circumstances, weak," she hissed at him. "And I'll prove it to you, too." She mumbled words that were incomprehensible to him and suddenly, Fiyero's coat, which was wrapped around both their shoulders, glowed up in a golden colour. After that, the night went completely dark again; but Fiyero could feel the warmth the coat emitted now, like it was a furnace.

He could also feel the way Elphaba sagged against him, her energy drained, but he was wise enough not to say "I told you so". Instead he heaved a sigh of relief and leant back against the tree. "That's much better."

"Told you," she mumbled, half asleep, and he nuzzled her hair. It was only a few minutes before he could hear her breathing evening out and he knew she was asleep.

Somehow, they both must have slept mostly through the night; because when Fiyero opened his eyes again, the sky in the east was exploding in colours and the forest seemed more grey than black. He blinked, yawned, and stretched carefully, wincing when a stab of pain shot through his knee. He looked to his side. Elphaba was still snuggled into him, with the still warmth-radiating coat wrapped around her.

He stroked her hair. "Fae?"

She stirred, a grimace flashing across her face as she moved. "Hmm?" She slowly opened her eyes. When she saw that it was growing lighter, she sat up instantly, cringing at the pain that sudden movement caused her, but she ignored it otherwise.

She looked at him. "We made it."

He grinned back at her. "We made it." He leant in to kiss her gently. When he pulled away, he saw something dark on the snow and he frowned. "What's that?"

"What?"

He squinted, and then he realised with a shock that it was blood. His head whipped around and he stared at Elphaba.

She sighed. "Don't look at me like that," she said wearily. "I haven't been bleeding out all night, Yero. It's just a graze. It's either blood from last night or I just ripped it open again when I sat up too quickly just now." She carefully inspected her side and grumbled something under her breath. "It's the latter, apparently."

"I still want you to see a physician as soon as possible," he insisted, making her roll her eyes.

"Only if you come with me for that knee," she retorted.

He nodded. "Deal." He helped her up and then rose to his feet, favouring his bad knee. "Come on. Let's go home."