Glinda Upland clutched the balcony railing until her knuckles were as white as her pearlescent heels. She willed the cold air to wake her, or at the very least to make her look more awake. Her shoulders rolled forward in a bout of lightheadedness. She pinched her eyes shut, fighting it, willing energy into her from whatever fragmented reserves she had left.
"We couldn't be happier…" she muttered. Glinda straightened, her voice coming out with a crack that wanted to be a cough, and she forced a smile to an invisible crowd. "We couldn't be happier. We couldn't be–"
Glinda coughed into the crook of her arm. First she tried to be subtle and quiet about it, turning slightly to see if anyone was near - but her lungs demanded release. The incessant hacking took her breath away, and the fever robbed her of any semblance of focus. With one hand on the banister, she felt her vision start to black out. Glinda swayed, almost fell, but her arm was caught by Madame Morrible.
Half moon fingernails dug into Glinda's wrist. She straightened, trying not to give the Press Secretary the satisfaction of seeing her flinch. The blonde tried unsuccessfully to pull away from her, but the sorceress tightened her grip.
Before Glinda could say anything, something in the darkness of the rooftop caught her eye - a pointed shadow that appeared to be moving behind a chimney - but the drainage that threatened to leak from her nose sent her pawing at her pockets for a handkerchief. Morrible released her with a look of disgust. Glinda blew her nose, which brought on another short coughing fit. When she opened her eyes again, the dose she was trying to avoid was being held out in front of her.
White powder on a ceramic stick with the smallest spoon-like divot.
"Clearly you're useless without it," Morrible sneered. Even in the gesture of trying to refuse, Glinda found herself off balance. She could almost feel the color slipping from her face.
Morrible steadied her, but promptly offered the dose yet again. Not a request. In one desperate last attempt, Glinda widened her brown eyes at the sorceress.
"Please…"
Morrible refused to react, simply holding the dose out in front of her. Glinda became acutely aware of the Emerald Guards by the door. Of their eyes. Of their knowledge of what was happening, and their refusal to move from where they stood. And with a seething in her heart that was quite unbecoming for Miss Glinda the Good, a look that would never come clear on her face, she knew they wanted her to take it just as much as Morrible did. And she knew why. And she hated them just as much as she hated her.
Glinda wouldn't give them the satisfaction of being asked to hold her down for it. Not this time. She steeled herself, blocked up one nostril with her finger, and leaned forward to inhale the dose.
The force of the poison's entrance threw Glinda's head back. It crawled into her head and shocked the brain waves like Morrible's lightning, igniting electricity into every muscle and bone that vibrated and throbbed. Her hands seized up at her sides, out of her control. Her exhausted shell of a body took on the puppeteer. The whitewake.
And she was the puppet.
"And lastly, we couldn't be happier," Glinda said evenly. "We continue to be free of the wicked things that have caused so much strife–"
"The Witch!" cried the crowd. "The Wicked Witch!"
Glinda clutched her hands in front of her, forcing a giggle at the unnecessary audience participation.
"–and my dearest fiance - our Captain of the Emerald Guard, Fiyero Tigelaar - has bravely sought to personally extinguish the threats in the west."
Glinda the Good stepped back and Press Secretary Madame Morrible replaced her at the microphone. The stage was bright, but unsteadily so. Throbbing. Or was that her head? The feedback from the microphone rang in her ear.
Stay awake… Glinda begged herself.
The hands of an Emerald Guard gripped the back of her corset when she began to sway, supporting for appearances and not out of any genuine care. Morrible glanced back at her, though the sorceress' words didn't compute in Glinda's head.
The light throbbed again. Now, the sound did, too. Glinda tried to grip the banister behind her, then everything went black.
"Give her some space–Pfannee, back off!" The sound of Elphaba's voice came in as if a figure through fog. "Everyone, back up!" The screech of chairs across flooring, gasps, and Fiyero's voice.
"Did she hit her head?"
"No, I caught her. She's waking up. Galinda?"
Galinda's eyes fluttered open, and the green of Elphie's face came into view, her long braid falling against Galinda's cheek. Then Fiyero's face. Then Doctor Dillamond's classroom, with all of the chairs knocked over. Two of the chairs pinned Pfannee and ShenShen to the wall.
"Is she alright, Miss Elphaba?" asked Doctor Dillamond with great concern. Only when Galinda managed to sit up on her own did Elphaba allow Fiyero to take over.
"She was feeling ill this morning and thought it would pass," Elphaba explained. She exchanged a look with Fiyero, and Galinda felt herself being lifted by the prince. "Master Fiyero will help me get her back to our room, if that's alright, Doctor Dillamond."
Galinda tried to steady herself, but her color must have dropped from her face because both Elphaba and Fiyero readied to catch her. A green hand came into her field of view and was placed on her forehead.
"She's burning up."
"I've got her." Fiyero scooped her up into a bridal carry, and Galinda wished her head would stop swimming for just enough of a moment to relish it. She heard Doctor Dillamond trotting near.
"Perhaps the infirmary, Miss Elphaba?"
At the same time, Elphaba and Galinda said:
"She'd rather die."
"I'd rather die!"
This time, there wasn't such a welcome face to wake up to, but there was plenty of green. The uniforms. Glinda pushed herself upright and realized she was back at her suite, in her bed. A wave of uneasiness hit as she felt the guard's eyes upon her and the odd places of loose and tight fabric around her - that uncomfortable feeling of someone else having handled her clothing while she was in it. She looked down and saw her sheer domed skirt was removed but the slip beneath it remained, teal and sequined. Understandable, for the purposes of laying her down, but no less unsettling.
"Excuse me," she said, waving away the varying levels of actual concern in their glances, and rising to a stand. Her temple ached and her vision blurred, but she fought it.
Stay awake…look awake…
She reached for the pitcher of water on the nightstand, only to brush past air and realize that was a different memory. She made eye contact with one of the younger guards. "Some water, if you please?"
"Leave us."
Madame Morrible's voice delivered even more of a chill than the fever. The Emerald Guard left and she was once again alone with her mentor. Morrible neared, and Glinda found herself sidestepping the bed so she could back away from those black eyes.
"It'll pass, whatever this is," Glinda said quickly. "I had this same thing at school once - a few days of lightheadedness where I could barely stand, but then the following few days were nothing but congestion. Not remotely becoming - we should cancel a few days - but it passed then, and it will pass now."
"I'm disgustifying."
"You're beautiful."
Glinda steeled her face, lest it be affected by memories. She felt Morrible near her, the air becoming somehow less breathable as the sorceress came closer.
"It has been more than a few days, Miss Glinda."
A glass smile rose on Glinda's face. She willed it not to crack.
"Well, I haven't exactly been able to rest. Not in weeks. If I had even just two days, I wouldn't need—" Glinda cut herself off, not wanting to put the idea in Morrible's head.
"That won't do. You couldn't keep the Captain, so now you have rumors to quell." Morrible pulled out the vial again, and Glinda began to shiver as if her body knew what was coming. Yet another night coming down off a drug that surely kept you awake, but then made it impossible to truly rest.
"Please, Madame Morrible," Glinda begged, retreating to the west side of the room. Morrible pursued. "Four times in one day? Surely… Please, my heart's already pounding into my chest and I can't keep my hands–" She lifted her trembling hands and accidentally knocked the dose to the ground.
Morrible's hand struck her across the face, a ring catching skin. The impact burned like fire. Before Glinda could even recover, Morrible was holding her head from behind and again trying to dose her. The silver crown clattered to the carpet. The sorceress' fingers pulled at the top of her blonde hair to tilt her head up. Glinda tried to hold her breath through choking sobs, feeling the cold glass of the whole brown vial against her upper lip, feeling a small amount of the drug lift into her nasal cavity and swim up to her brain like a worm planting nightmares, and then -
CRACK!
Madame Morrible fell to the floor.
A root-mangled broom floated behind her mid air, its softer vines dented slightly from the impact of Morrible's head.
Time slowed. Glinda's hands moved from her head like molasses.
She heard her name, but she was afraid to turn. Afraid to look up. The voice had to be a dream. A fever. Don't wish…don't start…
But then the wish was kneeling in front of her, green hands with long, delicate fingernails on either side of Glinda's face, then smoothing the top of her hair. The touch of soft lips on her forehead, with whispered somethings that swirled around her ears but didn't quite make purchase in whatever part of her brain could process a word in this moment. Glinda's eyes lifted to Elphaba's.
"Elphie…?" Her own voice sounded like someone else. The tears fell and Elphaba wiped them away. Memories of the Ozdust… Glinda tried to say something else, but sniffled and coughed instead. The witch took her face into her hands and echoed the comfort that Glinda - then, Galinda - offered her all those years ago.
"It's alright."
The words dropped like snowfall, soft and cooling to her feverish cheeks. Glinda collapsed into Elphaba - sobbing, coughing, balling her quivering hands into fists that gripped the black cloak she once tied around the witch's shoulders and could never imagine letting go. Elphie held her with a strength that actually hurt, but Glinda didn't care.
A groan from Madame Morrible elicited Glinda to open her eyes. The Press Secretary was still unconscious, but perhaps not for long.
"Don't leave me here, Elphie."
"Never," Elphaba promised. "But we have to go. Right now. Are you coming?" Glinda coughed. With some effort, Elphie pried her from her coat and squared Glinda's shoulders in front of her, needing to make sure she was understood. Elphaba asked again. "Glinda, are you coming?"
All Glinda could manage was a nod before falling into a coughing fit that made her lightheaded, and distracted both of them enough to miss the opening door.
"Um…Miss Glinda?"
Elphaba and Glinda's heads both turned towards the suite entrance, where one guard stood with a glass of water, his mouth agape at the sight of the Wicked Witch of the West clutching Glinda the Good before him.
Before he could even call out, Glinda was swept off the ground by Elphaba's broomstick.