CHAPTER NINE: NO MOTHER OF MINE
Liir was well traveled. Glinda had made sure of that.
He'd lived most of his life in The Emerald City, attended boarding school in Gillikin, and had accompanied Glinda on her business travels to nearly every inhabited corner of Oz. However, he had never traveled quite so far. He doubted many Ozians had or ever would.
Liir's broom, though he'd been the one to create it, seemed to possess a mind of its own. It would buck as if to judge his technique, surge him high in the air with no warning, and steer him this way and that as if following a pre-charted course.
He tried to not to second guess the broom's inner compass. For all he knew…it could indeed know more than him.
At the first sight of the desert, Liir's jaw dropped over how jarringly the terrain changed from lush to barren. The wasteland stretched as far into the distance as Liir could squint, and then even further than that.
All I know is…they left Oz. Anything could have happened after that.
Liir shook his head and his cloak rippled as he leaned forward to accelerate. He couldn't let such thoughts enter his head. They were out there. He could feel it. He had to trust that his intuition, or at the very least his broom, was guiding him in the right direction.
Hours passed, at least that's what Liir assumed. It was difficult to tell at night. His sense of time righted itself once the sun began to rise, but the daylight brought new problems. The air began to get thin…and hot.
Time to time he would land. Sometimes to rest, sometimes to eat and drink from the provisions Glinda packed, and sometimes to simply to ease his overwhelm. He'd yet to see anything but cracked earth expanding in all directions around him.
Everyone had been right. There was nothing out here. There was really nothing beyond Oz. Nothing but the beating sun and dirt.
But later, with a hopeful lurch, Liir at last spotted something. If he blinked he may have missed it, but sure enough he could see a collection of crude buildings dotting the ground beneath his dangling feet! He eagerly attempted to steer his broom in the direction of the assumed outpost…but the broom kept wrenching him back towards its forward course.
"Come on," Liir gritted his teeth. "Land, damn you."
The broom, blatantly disobeying him, lifted higher and accelerated so fast that Liir had no other option but to watch the tiny settlement fade in the distance behind him.
"That must not have been it…that must have not been it," Liir mumbled to himself, attempting to resuscitate his hopes. There must have been a good reason for his broom to steer clear of it…right? "If there's one town there's got to be more. We've just got to keep going."
After some time the broom 'allowed' Liir to land by an old dead tree. Liir coughed up a cloud of dust as he staggered to the ground in a clumsy landing. Frustrated and weary, he drank deeply from his water supply and sat down against the tree.
Why was he doing this?
Why was he really doing this?
It wasn't as if he had many survival skills. Glinda had never signed him up for scouting…not that he'd expressed much interest. He had never been much for the outdoors, feeling much more at home in a city. After all, he was brought up by Glinda the Good who was notably fond of her creature comforts.
Why then was he brainlessly going out on his own to…what? Find the people who'd been content to leave him behind?
Liir swiped an arm over his sweaty forehead. He'd never known what to picture when he thought of his parents. Now, after finding out who they were, he knew what to expect even less. How would he react to seeing them? How would they react to seeing him?
This was assuming, of course, Liir could even find them at all.
His broom rolled against his leg as if anxious to resume their journey. Liir got to his feet, woozy from the heat, and mounted his broom for another hopeless stretch of the same.
Time began to lapse unnaturally. Goosebumps pricked at Liir's arms as his eyes struggled to stay open and alert. In a particularly dazed moment, Liir mused that perhaps he wasn't making progress at all. Perhaps he was merely traversing the same ground on a torturous conveyor belt. Churning over and over…and over…again…
Liir's chin suddenly slammed into his chest and he felt the toe of his boots drag roughly against the ground. Gasping awake, Liir yanked the handle upward but the overcorrection sent him spiraling. The sun was drastically lower in the sky than it had been a moment ago—or what felt like a moment ago.
The handle veered into a spiraling nosedive and before Liir could pull himself out of the spin his left shoulder scraped against some thick, sharp grass which jutted from the ground in disorganized clumps. His cloak snagged on a gnarled bush and ripped off of him. Liir felt a sensation akin to rug burn as his body slid against the dirt, leaving a long ditch behind him as he crashed sideways along the ground.
When Liir finally stopped skidding his broom was abandoned far behind him. He couldn't open his eyelids, dust caking his lashes, but he coughed miserably on the dirt he'd inhaled. He tried to lift his hand but felt it feebly fall to his side.
It wasn't much of a surprise, Liir mused as he succumbed to his exhaustion, that he hadn't succeeded in finding his parents. He so rarely succeeded at anything.
A hand shook his shoulder.
Liir frowned in delirium, pestered by the mirage.
"Hey…" it said.
The hallucinatory hand shook him harder. Liir grunted and coughed weakly.
"Hey!"
Couldn't Liir just die in the desert in peace?
A sudden deluge of tepid water spilled over Liir's head and soaked through his clothes. With a startled gasp, his eyes flew open. Water and dirt stung his pupils but Liir could just barely make out the silhouette of an adult man kneeling beside him against the backdrop of the setting sun.
"There we go! That's more like it," the man said approvingly. "Don't worry, kid. You're not dead yet."
Liir's coughed and sputtered trying to wipe the dirt out of his eyes so he could see better. As his senses returned, he couldn't decide what was a bigger shock. The watery wake up call or the fact that the man speaking to him actually appeared to be real.
"Sheesh, you look terrible," the man remarked. "Can you stand?"
Before Liir could answer he was being hoisted to his feet. He was sore and disoriented but was pleased when his legs supported his weight. The man who'd helped him up was taller than Liir. He might have been mid to late forties. He had warm, tan skin, graying dark brown hair, and had enough stubble to remark upon though not quite a beard.
Liir staggered slightly and the man offered him his shoulder which he gladly took.
"Where the hell did you come from anyway?"
"What's going on?" a woman's voice called from an unseen distance away. "Where are you?"
"Down here, Fae!" the man called back. "There's a kid out here!"
"A what?"
"Some kid just came in from the desert!" he shouted. "Fetch some more water!"
The man began guiding Liir up a small hill and he felt a rush of relief as he saw the slanting, tin roofs of a miniscule village come into view. The title of village, however, was much too kind. A scattering of poorly constructed shacks squatting on a marginally more inhabitable stretch of land was a much more accurate description. But after a near day of nothingness, Liir found the shantytown more beautiful than the Emerald City skyline.
This was made all the more true as Liir spotted a tiny, agrestic well stationed ahead on the outskirts of the outpost. A woman, presumably 'Fae', stood at the well with her back to them as she threw the bucket over the side of the basin. She was skinny and sported a long, unkempt black braid.
"He just showed up," the man explained to Fae. "Out of nowhere."
The bucket hit the bottom of the well with a thick splash.
"Where did you come from, kid?"
"Oz," Liir wheezed.
The man gave Liir a stunned look.
"What? But we're…"
The metal mechanism at the top of the pulley squeaked as the woman worked to pull the bucket back to the surface.
"You came from Oz? Alone?"
"Yes—"
"How the hell did you survive? Fae…he came from Oz!"
Water sloshed as the woman urgently retrieved the returned bucket.
"What's your name?"
"I'm—"
The woman turned and let out a great shriek. A clang and splash followed as the bucket of water slipped from her hands.
"Liir!"
Liir had not been the one to offer his own name.
It was her.
The woman stood with her back to the well, one hand grasping the stone rim as the other clutched her heart. Her gray dress was soaked with well water from the bucket she'd just dropped. She stared at Liir with bulging eyes, mouth agape, pure shock paling her otherwise green face.
"You…" Liir breathed in recognition. "You…you're…"
Liir had spent many a night awake imagining what he might say should he ever, by some twist of fate, meet his parents. However, now that the impossible was happening, all of the words he'd daydreamed were stuck squarely in his throat. So, in a moment too surreal for speech, Liir did no more than stand in perfect silence as he looked upon his mother's face for the first time.
"Wait…" the man spoke, hardly above a whisper. "Liir?"
Liir looked over at him with fresh eyes.
He was older, he was thinner, and he was dressed in far humbler clothes than The Captain's uniform he'd been photographed in long ago. But his skin, his eyes, Liir realized, were deeply familiar. Not only from Glinda's newspaper clipping…but from Liir's own reflection. His stomach flipped as it dawned on him that the man who had helped him moments before was none other than his very own father.
Fiyero Tigelaar, however, was not looking at Liir.
"Elphaba…"
Fiyero's eyes were fixed on Elphaba's whose eyes were fixed on Liir whose eyes were still fixed on Fiyero, forming a complete triangle of paralysis.
"Elphaba," Fiyero pressed. "Is it—is it really? Liir? Our Liir?"
Fiyero's eyes turned back upon Liir and his expression changed as he, as Liir had, fully registered the resemblance between them.
"You're Liir?"
"Yes…" Liir croaked, clearing his dry throat. "Yes…I'm Liir."
Liir hardly had time to blink before Fiyero rushed towards him and, without thinking, crushed him in a bracing hug. Liir gasped, unprepared, and clumsily hugged him back. After a moment Fiyero pulled away and grabbed Liir's shoulders, shaking his head in disbelief.
"I don't believe it," he muttered. He released Liir and turned to look at Elphaba. "I don't believe this."
Elphaba still said nothing. Instead she lifted her arm and frantically darted her eyes towards her wrist upon which she wore a slim watch.
"Fae—this…" Fiyero said, crossing to Elphaba who remained braced against the well. "This doesn't feel real. He's here. He's here! Our—"
"What are you doing here?!"
Liir flinched and stumbled back at Elphaba's sudden, cutting tone.
"W-what?"
Elphaba, unbound from her previous stiffness, swiftly advanced towards Liir—but not to embrace him as Fiyero had. She met him toe to toe in a towering stance, peering down her nose at him with a severe and suspicious glare.
"How did you find us?" Elphaba hissed in Liir's face. "Who sent you here?!"
"Fae!"
Liir swallowed as he looked up at her, her height exceeding his by a noteworthy amount.
"I—I—" he stammered.
"Go on," Elphaba prodded. "Tell me. Tell me who sent you!"
Fiyero approached Elphaba and turned her by the shoulders to face him.
"What are you doing?"
"Think about it, Fiyero! This must be part of some sort of plot!" she gestured wildly. "Why else would he be here?!"
"Who cares why he's here?!" Fiyero exclaimed. "He's here!"
"Well he can't stay," Elphaba said. She snapped her head towards Liir. "You cannot stay. You cannot stay!"
Liir felt his body go numb.
"You don't mean that," Fiyero argued. "What are we supposed to do, send him back out there?!"
"You're falling for it, Yero. Don't fall for it."
"Fall for what?! I mean—look at him!" Fiyero gestured towards Liir. Liir couldn't help but feel a bit pathetic, short statured and shivering from the douse of water he'd gotten. "He was hanging by a thread when I found him!"
"He looks fine to me," Elphaba shrugged. "Walking. Talking. Suspiciously well, in fact, after a supposed desert journey."
"But—"
Elphaba turned towards Liir.
"Hey. You," Elphaba snapped to get Liir's attention before gesturing between herself and Fiyero. "I take it you know who we are?"
"Yes," Liir mumbled.
"And you know who we are to you."
"…yes."
"How?" Elphaba asked. "How in the land of Oz do you know who we are?"
Liir swallowed scratchily.
"I didn't know. I-I mean for a long time I didn't know…" Liir stammered. "But then Glinda—"
Elphaba's face darkened and Liir immediately shut his mouth.
"Glinda?" Elphaba said in a low tone. "Glinda?"
"Well—"
"This is Glinda's doing?!" Elphaba shouted.
"Elphaba—"
Fiyero crossed to her and touched her shoulder but Elphaba jerked away from him.
"I gave her specific instructions—very specific instructions!"
"She—" Liir began.
"Fae, calm down—"
"No!" Elphaba's head snapped towards Fiyero. "She promised me, Yero! She promised us that—"
"She—"
"How could she? How could she?!"
"She didn't mean to break her promise!" Liir blurted out.
Elphaba and Fiyero looked at him. Despite her tension, Elphaba looked vaguely surprised that Liir had managed to speak up.
"Come again?"
"She swore me to secrecy," Liir said. "And she's never told anybody else."
"According to you," Elphaba scoffed. "You could easily be lying to us. Or she could have easily lied to you. I mean, what a ploy! For her to go out of her way to find you—!"
"Huh?"
"I don't think—" Fiyero began.
"Honestly Yero, use your brain! He has clearly been sent here to track us down. Not a soul has arrived from Oz since we did and suddenly our—" Elphaba cleared her throat. "And suddenly he of all people shows up out of nowhere? They could be trying to lure us back. Or they sent him as a spy. For all we know Glinda may have turned and—"
"How could you even think that?" Fiyero protested.
"Well she did break her promise!"
Elphaba closed her eyes, shaking her head.
"He cannot stay," Elphaba muttered again, as if to herself. "He is not staying with us."
"You can't be serious, Fae."
"I am serious."
"We can't just—"
"We can just!"
"He's our son!"
Elphaba bristled at the word, her eyes piercing Fiyero's as if betrayed. Dirt swirled at their feet and for a moment nobody said anything.
"Hang on…" Liir softly spoke up. "How did you know?"
Elphaba looked over at him.
"Know what?"
Liir's eyebrows knitted in confusion as he recalled Elphaba's reaction to him.
"How…did you know it was me?"
Elphaba went still. She crossed her arms and opened her mouth before closing it without answering. Fiyero frowned as well and looked at Elphaba questioningly.
"Elphaba…how did—"
"I don't see why I should have to answer your question when you've yet to answer any of mine," Elphaba muttered. "Now quit stalling and tell me. How did you get here?"
"I flew."
Elphaba and Fiyero paused, sparing a glance towards each other before looking back at Liir.
"You…flew."
"On a broom," Liir explained.
Elphaba stared at him before cracking an earsplitting cackle that made Liir jump.
"Oh, Oz in heaven. Did you hear that, Yero? He flew," she clutched at her chest. "Father was right. The Unnamed God is real and I'm being punished at last. At least He has a sense of humor."
"Okay, then how did you make it through the desert?" Liir asked Elphaba.
"It's a blur," she returned flatly. "And that still doesn't explain how you found the exact right place."
"I don't know how, okay?" Liir huffed. "I just knew I needed to find you and then I knew where to go."
"But why?!" Elphaba said. "Why did you 'need' to find us?"
"I—" Liir struggled to make words. "I—"
"Do speak up," Elphaba condescended.
"I have magic!" Liir blurted out.
Elphaba went very still.
"What?" Elphaba said. She swallowed. "You…you have—"
"Magic, yes. I always have. It's how I charmed the broom."
"No kidding…" Fiyero said.
"And I don't exactly have the best control on things. I came here because…" Liir looked at Elphaba. "Because I need a teacher."
"There are plenty of sorcery teachers in Oz."
"Not like this. My magic isn't like theirs. It's different," Liir said before pausing. "I'm…different."
Elphaba's frown twitched.
"Well, even if I wanted to help you I'm afraid I can't," Elphaba said, crossing her arms. "I don't use magic anymore."
Fiyero snorted.
"What?" Elphaba frowned at Fiyero.
"You're such a liar."
"What are you talking about?" Elphaba said, narrowing her eyes.
"How do you explain our garden?"
"We tend to that garden every day."
"Yes, and I suppose our year-round perfect tomatoes in the desert are all natural?"
"Well—"
"Two words, Fae. Storm bell."
"When it comes to matters of safety I—"
"Oh, safety. Sure! And I suppose that's why our dishes dry themselves too. For safety."
Elphaba pinched her lips shut.
"It saves time," Elphaba muttered. She took a deep breath through her nose and sized Liir up. "Regardless of my day-to-day tricks I have largely," Elphaba shot a look towards Fiyero, "renounced magic. I cannot help you."
Liir stared at her.
"Won't."
"I beg your pardon?" Elphaba asked.
"I said won't. You won't help me," Liir corrected her, starting to raise his voice. "You can but you won't."
"I don't much like your tone."
Liir blinked.
"My tone?" Liir said with a baffled expression. "My tone? A few days ago I found out that everything I've been told about the world isn't true! That I've been lied to my whole life! That my parents are alive and abandoned me—"
"Hey, whoa, whoa—" Fiyero interjected.
"And oh yeah!" Liir carried on. "I found out that my mother is none other than the Wicked Witch of the freaking West!"
Elphaba turned her back to him and rubbed her temples.
"I crossed a desert to get here. I am tired, I am dehydrated, and I am standing here asking you for help and you're saying that you will not help me."
"That's right," Elphaba turned.
Liir gaped. "That's right?!"
"Yes that's right, you little brat," Elphaba snarled, storming towards Liir. "Because we left you in Oz for a reason!"
An angry lump started growing in Liir's throat and he cursed every fate there was that he was so quick to tears. No. No. Not now. He clenched his fists and teeth refusing to let them surface. He was not going to give her the satisfaction.
"Well I didn't come here to meet you!" Liir exploded. "I didn't come here for some sort of—some sort of relationship, okay?!"
"Let's just—" Fiyero attempted, but Liir pressed on.
"I didn't want any of this either, you know! I didn't ask to be born, I didn't ask to be left behind—!"
"Hey—" Fiyero said.
"And I certainly didn't ask to inherit your horrendible, wicked magic!" Liir shouted with a wild gesture.
A great tremor rumbled beneath their feet and a deep, unnatural crack began splitting the dry earth between Liir and Elphaba. They both stumbled back and watched the split grow until the ground finally settled and ceased its shaking.
"Sweet Oz…" Fiyero said faintly.
Elphaba straightened up and looked at Liir in silence, admittedly stunned by his display of power.
"See?" Liir gestured to the tear in the earth. "I was right. And people are starting to notice too. There have been incidents."
"Incidents?" Fiyero asked.
Liir nodded.
"They're starting to ask questions. About me. And everything is only getting stronger. The destruction, the dreams…"
"Dreams?" Elphaba furrowed her brow.
"They're going to think something's wrong with me…" Liir muttered. "They're going to think I'm wicked."
"How awful that would be," Elphaba deadpanned.
Liir narrowed his eyes.
"Look—if you won't do it for me then do it for yourselves," Liir bargained. "This endangers the both of you as well. Unless you help me get this under control people are going to connect the dots eventually. They'll learn the truth. They'll come after you." Liir looked between Elphaba and Fiyero. "After all of us."
Elphaba and Fiyero glanced at each other and their eyes met for an extended moment.
"Fine," Elphaba said at last.
Liir raised his eyebrows. "Fine?"
"Yes, fine. You will stay with us and I'll teach you what I can," Elphaba said evenly. "You will not take up space, you will not ask too many questions, and when we're through you will return to Oz where you belong."
"Okay," Liir agreed.
"Let's get him to the house," Fiyero told Elphaba. "He obviously needs rest."
Fiyero moved and collected the spilled bucket to replenish it with water. Elphaba and Liir stayed put on either side of the divide, stubbornly sizing each other up, both slightly shivering from their damp clothing.
"There's one more thing for you to understand," Elphaba said to Liir in a low tone once Fiyero was out of earshot. "I may have given birth to you…but I am not your mother. Have I made myself clear?"
Liir looked upon the features of the woman who had birthed him. She had black hair like his own though with a few telltale streaks of silver. A layer of dark freckles speckled her cheekbones. She had no claws, her teeth were not pointed, and her pupils were not scarlet but instead a natural brown. Despite her uncannily green skin, which had been reported on correctly, Elphaba by all accounts appeared to be a normal human woman. All the same, even as the bucket water on her dress served as proof positive of Oz's misinformation, it didn't take a wild stretch of imagination for Liir to see where their horror stories had stemmed from.
After the reception he'd received, Liir found it far harder to fathom that the stone hearted witch before him had ever been the laughing young woman he saw in Glinda's photograph.
Yes, Elphaba had made herself abundantly clear.
She was no mother of his.
Dusk was setting as Elphaba and Fiyero guided Liir around the outskirts of the village to avoid weaving through the cramped alley ways that made up the town.
"Where exactly…are we?" Liir asked.
"Not Oz."
Liir noticed Fiyero tighten his jaw over Elphaba's unhelpful response. Liir decided not to ask anymore questions. For right then, anyway.
They came upon a shack on the outer edge of the village. A clumsily cobbled waist high wall skirted around the property, providing a barrier for a cliffside in the back. To the left of their house was a shockingly thriving vegetable garden.
"This one's ours," Elphaba muttered.
She pushed the flimsy door open and it squeaked as they passed through it.
"There's no heat. There's no air. There's no running water. Facilities are out back. That room is ours," Elphaba pointed to a closed door behind the sofa. "Don't go in it. You saw the garden on your way in. Don't go in it."
Liir felt like he should be taking notes.
"We ration our food. What you get is what you get. And do not go into town alone."
"Why?" Liir dared to ask.
"Who do you suppose populates towns such as this?" Elphaba raised a brow. "Outlaws."
Liir gulped. His eyes shifted to a sunken, patched up couch.
"Yours," Elphaba confirmed.
Liir dropped his bag onto it. In any other scenario he'd be afraid of getting dirt on the furniture but judging by the cloud of dust that floated up as his bag landed, it seemed like a moot point.
A mere glance was sufficient to cover the grand tour of Elphaba and Fiyero's home. Besides the sofa, there was an armchair, a modest bookshelf, an end table, and precious little else. Cracks splintered up their largely bare walls and wind rattled noisily against a pair of filthy windows in the main room. The kitchen, which was squished in with no delineation from the living room, consisted of a wood burning stove, a counter, and a set of pantry shelves with a variety of jarred goods. A tiny dining table was pushed against the wall near the door. It was notably ornamented with two rickety chairs.
It was a step up from a shed and a step below a cottage. The hut seemed to be about as basic as two people could live.
"Don't expect us to wait on you, either," Elphaba continued, moving to stand behind their kitchen counter. "We all pitch in. You'll do your part as well."
"It's fine, I'm used to it," Liir said, straightening up a bit. "I…live on my own."
He left out the part about how he'd just moved in. Also the laundry service Glinda paid for.
Fiyero made an impressed sound.
"Hear that, Fae? He lives on his own. I think he'll do just fine."
"So long as he minds us," Elphaba said coldly, as if Liir were not there.
Fiyero took a breath.
"Elphaba, could I have a word with you?" he said in a forced calm.
Liir felt his neck flush, suddenly wishing there was anywhere else in their home he could go.
"Go on," Elphaba gestured to Fiyero to speak.
"I mean alone? Could I have a word alone?" Fiyero hinted.
"We're in our own home, Fiyero. Where else could you speak more freely?"
"I could—" Liir gestured to the door but Fiyero shook his head.
"No, Liir. You don't have to leave," he said.
"I have to make dinner. Remember dinner?" Elphaba said. "It's not as if the child is going to prepare it."
Liir bristled, resenting her choice of words. Fiyero glanced at Liir.
"Have you eaten?"
"Not for a while…" Liir admitted.
"See?" Elphaba gestured to him.
Liir was admittedly hungry. Fiyero held up his hands and gestured to Elphaba to go about her work, commencing a very awkward evening. Fiyero leant Liir some dry clothes and set his old ones out on the line to dry. They were a little long on him but fit well enough. Fiyero was friendly towards Liir—certainly more welcoming than Elphaba, but he still struck Liir as a little quiet, like his brain couldn't think up the right words to say.
Liir couldn't think of them either.
Elphaba skirted around Liir as if he did not exist, which was impressive for a dwelling of their size. Things were clearly tense between her and Fiyero, but they pretended that they weren't. Liir had no clue why they were doing it for his sake, as a screaming match would have been more comfortable to witness than the pinched remarks and passive aggressive pot clanging.
Elphaba prepared and served them a thin stew. As there weren't enough chairs for the three of them, Liir sat on the couch. When Elphaba handed him a bowl it became clear that they'd prepared food rations for two and divided it so that there was enough for three. Liir felt a gnaw of guilt.
"I'm actually not that hungry…" Liir began to lie, deciding he could get by. "If you two want my share—"
"Taking pity on our poverty?" Elphaba said. "How awfully good of you."
"Elphaba," Fiyero warned.
"Go on then, eat," Elphaba prompted Liir. "Or are you waiting to pray over the meal? You're clearly charitable. Are you religious?"
"Elphaba."
"Is curiosity a crime, Yero?" she retorted as she sat at the table with Fiyero. She looked back to Liir. "So which is it? Unionist? Lurlinist?"
"I'm not really religious…" Liir said. "But if you are I could—"
"We're not," she said flatly.
Fiyero sighed and Liir shrunk a little further into the sofa. The only thing he was praying for was for dinner to be over quickly.
When the three of them had finished their meal, Liir returned his bowl to Elphaba. She took it without looking him in the eye.
"Thank you," Liir told her. "For sharing your dinner with me."
Elphaba didn't respond, merely turning her back to Liir as she collected the other dishes. Liir blinked and glanced at Fiyero whose eyes were narrowed at Elphaba.
"Fiyero, would you—" Elphaba began.
She was cut off when Fiyero abruptly stood and stormed towards the front door. She looked after him with a bewildered expression.
"Fiyero!"
The door fell closed behind him. Elphaba froze for a moment before wordlessly following Fiyero outside. Liir stood awkwardly on the spot, unsure of what to do next as Elphaba and Fiyero's muffled voices began filtering through their paper-thin walls.
Now remember, Liir. Eavesdropping is rude! Liir recalled a life lesson from his Auntie Glinda. So be careful that you don't get caught.
"Would you keep your voice down!" Liir heard Elphaba complain.
Ironically, hers was the voice coming through the clearest.
Liir crept towards the window in the main room and peeked through to see the pair's obscured silhouette's through the dirty glass. He deftly cracked open the pane before ducking to sit on the floor beneath the window.
"What has gotten into you?" Fiyero said agitatedly. "Why are you acting like this?"
"And how am I acting, Fiyero?" Elphaba challenged.
"You're snapping at every little thing he says!"
"Oh like he's been so pleasant."
"He was until you jumped down his throat!" Fiyero exclaimed. "You're treating him like he's one of those teenage scraps in town!"
"I loathe those boys."
"Exactly! But him? Liir? Why are you being so—so—"
"What, Yero?"
"So mean!"
"Because I am mean!" Elphaba blurted out. "I've always been mean! You know that, Yero. You even said you liked that about me."
"No. This is not like you."
"Well excuse me for being out of sorts!" Elphaba snapped. "Am I not allowed to feel a little caught off guard, Yero? A little blindsided? I mean—after all this time he just saunters into our lives? Out of nowhere?!"
"You're saying that like it's such a bad thing."
"It is a bad thing, Yero! When we decided to do what we decided to do this was not part of the bargain. This was not part of the plan," Elphaba emphasized.
"Well apparently the plan has changed!"
"You don't understand," Elphaba said. "I have spent years trying to put this all behind me—"
"Sweet Oz, Elphaba!" Fiyero blurted out.
"What?"
"We! We have spent years trying to put this behind us! We both have! Both of us!" Fiyero snapped. "You're saying I don't understand? Are you serious?! You—you—"
Fiyero groaned in frustration. Elphaba's words had clearly been his final straw.
"We've been having this same conversation for almost twenty years, Fae. What is it going to take?!" Fiyero pleaded. "What is it going to take for us to stop going through this over and over and over again?"
"Well I'm not feeling particularly united right now," Elphaba said tersely. "The way you're carrying on with him. The two of you buddying up against me."
"Against you? You think I'm against you? When have I ever been against you, Elphaba?! I am desperately trying to get on the same page with you but you won't let me!"
Elphaba said nothing and Fiyero issued a long sigh.
"We are in this together," Fiyero said in a calmer tone. "Let me in, Fae. I won't let—"
"It isn't the same," Elphaba cut him off.
"Yes it is."
"No—"
"He's our son, Elphaba," Fiyero said. "Yours and mine. Our son…our boy—!"
"Stop saying that!" Elphaba shouted. "Stop saying that, stop saying that, stop saying that!"
They crashed into quiet and Liir listened hard, his heart thudding as he listened for potential footsteps. The last thing he wanted was to be caught listening by Elphaba. Still, their conversation was too intriguing for him to stop. He'd waited all his life for answers, he wasn't going to waste the chance for details out of a simple matter of manners.
Any other orphan would have done the same.
"Elphaba…" Fiyero spoke up at last. "How did you know?"
His voice was calm but the tension between them remained.
"How did I know what?"
"You never answered when he asked," Fiyero said. "How did you know it was him?"
Elphaba said nothing.
"Because I didn't. I had no clue who he was when I found him out there…" Fiyero said. "But you did. You knew it in—in an instant."
"Fiyero…"
Elphaba's voice had a pleading quality to it, as if she were begging him to stop asking her.
"Come to think of it…" Fiyero said slowly, another thought occurring to him. "I have another question."
"And what is that?"
"Elphaba…" Fiyero said in an unsettled, suspicious tone. "How did you know his name?"
A brief but unbearably bitter silence stretched between them. Then, rather than answering Fiyero's question, Elphaba responded with an icy accusation of her own.
"How did you?"