Sorry for the delayed update! I just finished a huge (brain AND back-breaking) project, and I'm celebrating here!

Welcome to all the new readers! And thank you to everyone's reviews *raining hearts*

This chapter is heavily influenced by a NY Times article I read not so long ago. It's entitled "He Couldn't Remember That We Broke Up". It's really nice and I got teary-eyed reading it. You guys can look it up if you're interested.

Also, Painting Fields got nominated? THANK YOU SO MUCH!

We're officially halfway through the story! :)

Day 500

August 2019

The air felt dense, and the ground beneath her felt like it was tilting on an unusual axis. And suddenly she felt dizzy.

Fiyero.

St. Satalin's Hospital.

Looking for you.

Those were the only words she remembered from the phone call she just had. It was Fiyero's number, but it was his mother who spoke. She didn't know if his mother knew that they were no longer together. But still, the news shook her. Fiyero's in the hospital, looking for her. Why her? They hadn't been in contact for the past three months. Why her? Why now? What happened? Her mind was in chaos.

She quickly excused herself from the office and sped to the elevator and out of the building. It was a good thing his mother called right before lunch break. She wouldn't be able to bear having to wait for an opportunity to leave work. Though, she was sure Mr. Strumpet would've let her go if she said there was an emergency. Her stomach growled. But nevermind that.

St. Satalin's hospital was on the other side of the city. If she wanted to get to the hospital right away, she would have to get on a train before the lunch rushers swarmed in. To her luck—and as if time was on her side—people were only starting to leave their offices and it took her just a few minutes to get on the train going South.

She stood by the door, with one hand holding her suitcase and another on a pole grip. She was facing the window and she watched the reflection on the dark glass. But she couldn't see herself. As if the glass suddenly turned into a projection of her thoughts, the scenes in front of her were all the moments they shared: a night at the karaoke bar; a picnic in a tree; a stroll through the weekend bazaar; a snowy Lurlinemas Eve; an argument in an apartment; the slamming of a door. It played in front of her like a portal to her mind—like magic. But as soon as it did, it disappeared. And the train pulled over at St. Satalin's station.

The doors slid open and she hastily climbed out of the vehicle. Speeding through the crowd in the underground station, she tried to remember the details Fiyero's mother had told her when she called. But she couldn't. And her mind scraped through empty fields of thought. The outside air slapped her face and she struggled to swat away the strands of hair that clung to her cheek. The trees that lined the sidewalks already showed hints of the new season setting in. But as much as she adored autumn, her mind was elsewhere. Her eyes darted through the passersby and the streets as she briskly made her way to the hospital.

St. Satalin's Hospital, the large metal letters over the entrance loomed at her. She nodded, and with a strong push, she entered through the main doors. The stale scent of sanitary products and sterilized equipment engulfed her.

"I'm looking for Mr. Fiyero Tiggular?" she told the nurse manning the reception desk.

The older woman was slightly taken aback, but quickly and quietly typed something on her computer—making sure they had as little eye contact as possible.

"Room 500," she said, her eyes fixed on her computer screen. "He just moved in from Intensive Care."

Elphaba ignored the behavior and mumbled a quick 'thank you' before dashing to the elevator. She tried to calm her nerves as she navigated through the white corridors and checked each door's number.

Room 500 turned out to be located at the end of the West Wing, and she stared at the metal numbers stuck to the mahogany door as she waited for someone to open it.

"Get yourself together," she whispered to herself. She didn't know why she was so affected. They haven't been in contact for a long time. It was obvious he didn't want to see her anymore. So why did it matter?

Just then, a nurse dressed in white scrubs opened the door and was slightly startled by her.

"I'm Elphaba Thropp," she replied to the unuttered question. "Amelia called me?"

"Yes, uhm," the nurse started uneasily. "Please come in." She opened the door wider and gestured for Elphaba to enter. "Mr. Tiggular is still asleep," she told her.

Elphaba slowly stepped into the room and quietly observed her surroundings. It was a private room—one of the more expensive ones, she noticed. The walls had a white matte finish while the floor was made of large beige-colored ceramic tiles. There was a big window at the end, with a cushioned bench for guests. Everything was in light neutral colors—birchwood tables, cream cushioned chairs, warm cove-lighting. But the curtains were drawn and the room was dim.

She walked further until the center of the room was visible. Then, she saw Fiyero weakly lying on the big hospital bed. His head, including his eyes, was covered by a thick white bandage and his arm and leg were raised on a swing-like mechanism, also heavily bandaged. "What happened?", her mind whispered. There was a sinking feeling at the bottom of her stomach.

The woman beside the bed looked up at the sound of Elphaba's footsteps. It was Amelia, Fiyero's mother.

"Elphaba," she cried. The older woman stood from her seat and rushed to hug the green girl.

"What happened?" Elphaba asked.

"He had an accident last week," Amelia replied. "I only got the news when he was rushed to the emergency room," she continued, teary-eyed. "The nurse said a bystander reported Yero to the hospital after seeing him lying unconscious on the grounds of Goldhaven Park. They said he fell 25 feet from a tree and landed on the pavers below."

Elphaba remembered how they climbed a tree together on one of their dates before. They had a picnic, while their feet dangled below them. It was one of her happiest memories. Now, he could most probably never climb again.

"How is he?" Elphaba asked.

"Broken limbs and a severe concussion. The doctors had to induce a coma to prevent his swollen brain from causing a hemorrhage. They also said they suspect him to have Amnesia," she choked. "He couldn't remember why he was at the park…or what he was doing here…" she couldn't continue anymore.

Amelia burst into tears, as she hugged the green girl tightly. Elphaba rubbed the older woman's back soothingly, her eyes transfixed on the sleeping man on the bed.

After a while, the room quieted and the two of them sat in silence—Amelia back to the chair beside the bed and Elphaba on the bench beside the window. The green girl texted her boss that she might not be back at the office until the next day because of an emergency; Mr. Strumpet—thank Lurline for his kind nature—permitted the absence with no questions asked.

Amnesia, Elphaba kept thinking. Fiyero might have Amnesia. What did that mean for her? What were his latest memories? Did he even remember her? But Amelia said he'd been asking for her. Why?

"He's been asking for you since he woke up the other night," Amelia confirmed, breaking the silence. "At first, we didn't know who he was calling. Fae, he said—and repeated it over and over. It took a while before we figured out it was you."

"That was his nickname for me when we were in Shiz," she replied. "I guess it stuck through the years."

Amelia nodded in understanding.

Silence.

"Do you know how far he remembers?" Elphaba asked, softly.

The older woman sadly shook her head. "No," she said. "The doctors said he would need to recover from the physical trauma a bit more… before we started interviewing him about his memories."

The green girl nodded, her eyes transfixed on her fidgeting hands. "Should I tell Galinda and the others? Maybe they could help when the time comes?"

Amelia gratefully agreed, and Elphaba made a mental note that she would be calling the blonde later that night.

A pause.

"Would you mind staying for a while?" Amelia said, suddenly slightly flustered. "I think—I'll just… go out for some fresh air."

Elphaba faintly smiled and nodded, and it was only then that she noticed how much the woman aged. She noticed how her eyes drooped and how the wrinkles on her forehead had deepened since the last time they met, just a few months ago at their manor in the province on Lurlinemas Eve. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Both their smiles were more genuine then. So much has happened since.

The older woman quickly thanked her and hastily retreated. Elphaba wondered how long his mother had been here alone, just watching her frail son. She wondered how the older woman felt. Then, she wondered what this all meant. For her. And for him. She shifted to sit on the chair Amelia vacated and stared at the sleeping man in front of her.

Fiyero, Amnesia, her mind whispered again.

Just then, the man weakly stirred on his bed, but the bandage covered his eyes and Elphaba couldn't see if they were open.

"Fae?" he softly called out. His voice was weak and it sounded as if he almost choked on his saliva. His uninjured hand weakly reached for something in the space in front of them. "Fae?" he called out again, slightly louder this time.

"I'm here, Yero," Elphaba said. And she gently touched the tips of his fingers. They were as cold as ice.

"Fae!" he suddenly cried out, clutching her hand. "You're here!" he repeated. "My Fae. Elphaba," he said, as he weakly intertwined his fingers with hers.

"I'm here, Yero. Everything's going to be alright," she said and a tear slipped down her cheek. With her free hand, she rubbed the back of his hand soothingly.

Elphaba noticed how many tubes he was attached to and all the metalwork bonding his bones. But she tried to see past all the equipment; he was facing her even if he couldn't see her through the bandage.

He tightened his grip on her hand and whispered, "I don't know what I'm doing here?"

"You were in an accident," she said. "But you're safe now. Everything's going to be alright." She repeated. And his lips turned as he rested his head back on the pillow, suddenly relaxed. He didn't let go of her hand.

A few minutes later he asked again. And it shook her to witness the bouts of amnesia right away. The head trauma had caused short-term memory loss—a visiting nurse explained—significant enough that Fiyero tried to get out of bed in confusion several times. His mind would restart every few minutes, causing a stream of kaleidoscopic ramblings. But he was still charming in his incoherence as if he was trying to talk his way out of the abyss. He greeted the visiting nurses like they were just there for a snack or a cup of tea.

She stayed for a few hours, watching over him and answering his repetitive questions with patience. After a while, Amelia came back but settled on the bench by the window. Fiyero never let go of her hand the entire time, and Elphaba was comforted by the fact that it had already become warmer. As the sun began to set, she slowly prepared him for a farewell.

"Can I see you?" he asked.

"No, Yero," she replied, her eyes shifting to the white cloth over his face. "The bandages…We can't take them off—"

"But I want to see you. I can't…" he trailed off. And he seemed to struggle for words. "I can't remember what you look like," he finished, deflating. His grip loosened, and silence wrapped around them as tightly as the bandages over his body.

For a moment, time seemed to stop; yet the clock continued to tick. And for the first time in a long, long time, like a stream of water bursting through the cracks of a battered wall, Elphaba cried—slowly, silently, painfully, with increasing intensity. She shifted her face away from the other occupants of the room, but it was no use. Amelia silently stood to give Elphaba's shoulder a soft pat before gesturing for the nurse to vacate the room with her. The green girl silently thanked the older woman for the privacy as she quietly wept.

Each person's life has its destination. And when two people meet, they are at the point where their timelines walk along the same path—for a moment, a minute, a month, or longer. Regardless of the length of time they spent together, they create a world specifically for them—a landscape in time where flowers of moments bloom and trees of shared experiences grow. They share that world until their timelines part, and they create another world with other people in their new paths. But even when they part, the world they created still exists, behind their eyes, deep in their chests—in their memories. And no matter how far they've gone from that point in their life, they can always revisit the world they created. And the joy they shared.

She realized that since the day they decided they would no longer be together, she'd still been living in the landscape of their collective past. If Fiyero couldn't remember the times they spent together, then he couldn't remember the joy. And if he couldn't remember the joy, it may as well have never happened.

What happens when the person you created a world with no longer remembers?

You are left alone.

Elphaba was alone.

Since we're already at the halfway point, I just wanted to clear some things up. Some of you may have already noticed, but I'll just go ahead and explain for those who might've missed it.

There's a pattern with how the story is told: Elphaba goes backward, Fiyero goes forward, and their perspectives alternate per chapter (this is the bit influenced by The Last Five Years). If you'll also notice, all of Elphaba's chapters so far are all odd-numbered (except Day 1000 and 500), while Fiyero's are even-numbered (except Day 1). I did that because the numbers represent how they generally feel in that season of their lives. You'll notice a change as we go on to the second half of the story, but I won't tell you why ;)

Any thoughts on the story so far? :)