NOTE: This will be an EXTREMELY hard chapter for anyone to read. Please take care of yourself. It's intended to be a torturous as the characters' isolation, and there's no reprieve. Not until the next chapter (which I've posted for your therapy).

Trigger Warnings: Very disturbing groping/leadup to rape, aftermath of rape, and implied death/murder.

Glinda heard the quickly-approaching footsteps begin all the way down the hall, but she still found herself startled by the Wizard when he stormed through the door.

"Oh, Miss Glinda, I just heard the most disturbing thing about how you were treated!" bellowed the Wizard. It was Glinda's full intention to curtsy, to call him Your Ozness, and to smile, but she was so quickly taken aback by his intensity that she physically retreated just a step. He was in front of her before the step had a chance to even make a difference, taking her hands in his own. Glinda winced as he gripped the fingers that Morrible had stepped on. "And what's this? Oh no!" He kissed the bruise and the barely broken skin. "Oh, Miss Glinda, I hope you know that this was uncalled for. Unwarranted. Completely. Every part of this. I blame myself and I deeply apologize."

The Wizard suddenly noticed Chistery standing in the corner of the room and dropped Glinda's hands to approach the Monkey. "What're you–Oz, Chistery, Miss Glinda is a guest, not a prisoner! Get out of this young woman's room and park yourself outside the door - a lady doesn't need a babysitter." While shooing Chistery from the room, the Wizard pointed at the Monkey and made a performative face of irritation at Glinda. "These guys…no manners."

Glinda didn't even have time to process a word that the Wizard was saying, between his waving hands and animated expressions and the way he seemed to tapdance about the room. But something in her stomach dropped when he locked the door behind Chistery.

The Wizard turned back to her from the other side of the room, and once again closed the space between them before she could think. He pointed at the waist of her jacket with a gasp, and as if she hadn't already noticed it - she definitely had - Glinda looked down to where one of the Monkeys had made a tear that only went as far as the fabric's inner lining. The Wizard's point turned into a snap.

"We have people that can fix that, you know." He winked at her. "Why don't you hand that on over to me. It would be a shame if such a beautiful thing were ruined."

Glinda put a hand to the center of her chest, as if to hold the jacket on.

"Actually, Your Ozness, I–"

"Oh, Miss Glinda, I insist! It's the least we can do. The least I can do." And he motioned for her to turn while he reached for the shoulders of the garment.

Against everything she wanted to do, Glinda found herself turning around and unfastening her jacket. She loved her little jacket. She loved that she'd slept on Elphie's shoulder on the train with it - that they'd gallivanted through the Emerald City arm and arm with it - and that when they saw themselves in passing windows, even though the colors were different, her and Elphie had matching silhouettes. And here she was slipping the safety of that off her shoulders and handing it to the Wizard. She felt the chill as comfort left her arms.

"I've been told you're little miss popular at school," he prattled on, taking her jacket and setting it right beside them on the dresser. Glinda looked sadly upon it, wondering why he even made her take it off now in the first place, if he was just going to set it right there. Before she could even turn back around to face him, his hand was around her waist, pulling her hip against his. "You know, Miss Glinda, that has its place in politics. More than politics, really, the things we do here. Connecting with people. Those people right out there." He pointed to the Emerald City Square out the window. "And everyone all over Oz. Hope. Positivity." He waved two hands with open fingers in her face. "Magic! Give 'em a show! As we say back where I'm from - the show must go on!"

Glinda became aware of his closeness to her hair, and of the fact that she'd have some difficulty stepping away from him right now if she tried, even though she wasn't quite sure what she wanted to do.

"And our Madame Morrible put on quite the show, didn't she," continued the Wizard. "Common enemy. Poor Miss Elphaba. What's done is done and what's said is said, but we have things we can do to fix that."

"Really?" Finally, Glinda heard something she could latch onto. She looked up and tried not to startle back when his face was so close.

Somehow, he neared her face even more. Glinda smiled in a way that didn't reach her eyes and pondered raising a hand to his chest to give them some distance, but the second her hand came up, he took it and held it to his chest on his own.

"A new show, I think. Scratch the enemy. Bring in something good. An up-and-coming young sorceress who everyone will adore." He pointedly peered down at her with dark eyes. "That's you, Miss Glinda."

"Sorceress? I–I'm trying. I mean, I'd absolutely be thrilled for that, Your Ozness, but I–"

"You'll keep working on it," the Wizard finished on her behalf. "Until then, we got all the bells and whistles. And they'll love you anyway." And he took her cheek in his hand in a way that was far too close. "Who wouldn't with that face? Those eyes." He lingered on her eyes uncomfortably long, somehow looking at them without looking at Glinda herself.

The blonde's smile faltered, and she found herself breathing faster. Both of his hands held her in place now. She couldn't move even if she wanted to. Everything inside of her wanted to, but the words he said conflicted her. If there was a way to take back what they said about Elphaba - a way for her to be able to come back safe - didn't she have to try? And the things the Wizard said weren't unappealing.

"Beacon of hope, our little blonde angel - get you some dresses and a crown like a princess."

"A crown?"

"Absolutely! Get Morrible out of the picture - old news anyway," the Wizard leaned into her face, close enough for him to smell his breath, and twisted his lips like he was muttering a secret. "And not a face for press, between you and me. That's where you come in! We'll give you all you've ever wanted, you'll have a home here, just like I was promising you and Miss Elphaba before."

"Will Elphaba be able to stay here, too, when we fix things?" Glinda asked abruptly, trying to get a word in before he barrelled over her. "If she wants to?"

"Oh, look at that!" the Wizard exclaimed, pointing out the window and practically carrying her to it. "I heard this one's for you, look out there, Miss Glinda."

If her voice had breath in that moment, Glinda would have called out to Fiyero. Her Prince. The sight of something familiar in all this cold and confusion almost brought tears to her eyes. And without even truly knowing if she was in danger or not despite the pound of her heart, she found herself thinking,

He's come to save me.

She was distracted enough for a hand to travel to the side of her neck without her noticing, and for another to start fiddling with the collar of her dress. The Wizard brought his lips to her ear.

"And we'll kill him."

Glinda stopped breathing. She turned to look at the Wizard, not sure if she heard correctly, but he grabbed her face and turned it forcibly towards the window. His voice, however, remained the same showboat candor, almost playfully light.

"We'll kill him. If you don't do as you're told. As long as you say what we want you to say, you can have all you ever wanted. You can put on a show, right? I've heard you can." The Wizard started to unfasten the top of her dress, and with tears starting to fall and shock forming into terror, Glinda tried to stop him. He grabbed her hand and planted it against the window, snaking his other arm around her to continue his work on the buttons. "So I'll make you a deal, Miss Glinda. Listening?"

Glinda dropped her head, feeling his nose in her hair, sobbing.

"You can have him here. We'll invite him right in. He can be yours, if he wants you. And I can't imagine a world where he won't." His hands found places no one had touched, dry and aggressive, and Glinda watched Fiyero get pushed to the ground in the square. Guards with muskets emerged and pointed them at him.

"No!" Glinda cried out, moving her hand off the glass and tried to turn towards the Wizard. "Please, don't let them kill him, please…"

"They're for show - not even loaded." He grabbed her hand back and slammed it against the window one more time, causing Glinda to cry out with a pop of her wrist. He gave it another push once it was there, as if it needed to stick. The Wizard's lips found her ear again, the hairs of his moustache sending a chill down her neck. "Keep that hand there, Miss Glinda. Say hi to your Prince."

And with an impatient rip of fabric at her shoulder, Glinda watched Fiyero look up.

Please… she wished. Save me…

"Play the part…" His lips kissed her neck. "Don't let him catch on…" A kiss on her ear. His tone dropped to a whisper there. "Let me have you first…" Once again, the Wizard made sure she was looking out the window at her Prince. "And you'll be making good."

The Wizard's cheek met with hers, almost adhered to her tears, as they both looked out the window at Fiyero standing and being escorted from the square by the guard.

"They'll bring him back if I ask," he whispered, a hand in her hair, slowly turning his face to him. "To kill him, or to bring him in here all for you - your choice. All I need is an agreement to the terms. Let's put on a show, Miss Glinda. Can I get a yes?"

Her mind conjured image after image before her eyes. A pink flower being put in her hair. An arm around her in class. Winkie blue eyes. Dancing. Even in the distance they'd felt the past few weeks, he was her Fiyero. He was her prince. He wasn't perfect, but she wanted him. She may have even loved him.

And with a hope soon to be suffocated out of her, she still thought, maybe, he'd see her enough to save her. This was a nightmare, but he'd get her out. He'd get both of them out.

She felt the Wizard's eyes, like a dagger to her throat, waiting for their answer.

And in the frigid air of the emerald room, as if she wasn't even truly there, Glinda heard herself say yes.

The Wizard staggered out of the room, disheveled, almost laughing lightly to himself, wiping a sweaty lip and brow with his forearm. Chistery kept his eyes forward, but his head gave a slight bow of acknowledgement. With the smell of his elixir on his breath, The Wizard nudged the Monkey.

"Look at that, huh, Chistery?" he said, gesturing towards a form of disheveled blonde hair on the bed. "They don't make 'em much prettier than that little picture right there. And those big baby doll eyes? Whew…"

Chistery didn't react. The Wizard elbowed him again.

"There's, uh, a little bit to clean up in there, if you wouldn't mind." The Wizard pointed to a broken bottle of green elixir on the rug. He started leaving down the hall, making dizzy turns as he added: "Now you can take a look, Chis," and he stumbled into a door frame, "But paws off!" With a laugh higher and more airy than one would expect of a man so tall, the Wizard disappeared around the corner, but his voice remained a moment, addressing the servants.

"Bring the Prince in, get him a meal and a stiff drink. Tell him he'll see Miss Glinda tomorrow. And, uh…someone get her cleaned up, eventually. New clothes. Something pink. She'll like that."

Chistery entered the room. He picked the glass shards from the carpet, as instructed, placing them into a handkerchief while he heard quiet, stifled cries from the bed behind him. He stood, and saw the pink jacket discarded next to the dresser, as if it had fallen off there. He picked it up, initially to replace it on the surface. Chistery paused. Did Miss Glinda need it? Slowly and with care for what she might not want him to see, the Monkey picked up the jacket, holding it by the sleeves.

The Wizard had left no care for her modesty. Out of respect for Miss Glinda, he used the jacket to keep his eyes off the torn pink dress. He placed the jacket atop her trembling shoulders, then pulled silk emerald covers up to her chin. Chistery looked briefly at Miss Glinda's face, at her eyes, but they remained on the ceiling, glistening damp while she softly cried.

"I want to go home," she said in a small, pained voice. Chistery suspected she was not even speaking to him, just speaking the words aloud. Miss Glinda's eyes closed, dropping more tears into her hair. She tried to shift but winced, and Chistery found himself wincing, too. She began to cry harder. She seemed to break with the mere effort of speaking. "I want...home…Momsie…"

Though Miss Glinda didn't look back at him, Chistery stayed.

He remembered the stories his grandfather told him of their home. Stories that had passed through the Azuracaque - the Blue Monkeys, as humans called them - for generations. Tales of a home they once had, free in the forests. Where they protected its sanctity and magic, back when they had more of it. Where the arms of ten Monkeys still couldn't wrap completely around the trees. Where the leaves were azure blue.

He wondered what was home for Miss Glinda.

And Chistery wondered how he, too, could miss home when he'd never even known his.

He made sure Miss Glinda was not alone.

Glinda counted the bricklay of Emerald rectangles on the ceiling. Three hundred seventy-four, seventy-five, seventy-six… Elphie would have done the thing where you count one side, then the other, and do something with that to get the answer. But even if Glinda thought she could keep the numbers in her head long enough, this was fine. This passed time. They said she could see Fiyero in the morning. Three hundred ninety-eight, three hundred ninety-nine… She could use the smudge on that one as a stopping point, but it bothered her that she stopped so close to an even four hundred.

Chistery still sat in the corner. The emerald and amber eyes in the darkness were strangely comforting now. He'd left when the servants came to bathe her and change her like a doll, and she was in no place to protest. It hurt less after the bath, but it still hurt. They put her in a nightgown. More silk. Absolutely freezing. Glinda wondered why she wasn't shaking anymore. She should have been - she was cold enough - but she couldn't even move for that. She wanted her jacket, even if it was torn. And Elphie. What she wouldn't give to have a veridian hand reaching out to her again.

"Get on the train! You're gonna miss it!"

Glinda should have pulled Elphie off the train instead of jumping on with her. What was so wrong about just staying at school? Why did they need to be ambitious? They had their whole lives to make something of themselves. Why did they - her and Elphie, both - try so hard to get and keep the approval of people like Madame Morrible and the Wizard when they could have spent every day like that sunset on the poppy field?

Glinda kept her place on the bricklay - four hundred fifty, two rows past the brick with the smudge - she could remember that.

Four hundred fifty. Two rows past.

Chistery was standing up. Maybe he'd have her jacket again. No, the servants had taken it. And her dress. But she didn't want that dress anymore. Just the jacket. Chistery came to the bed. She already had the ice silk up to her forearms, but he brought it to her chin and tucked it under her shoulders.

He stood and stared. Glinda stared back.

Chistery grunted, pinched his eyes shut a moment, and cleared his throat.

"I. HAD. WIFE." A C-shape of one hand, coming down from his chin to cup with his other hand. Wife. Chistery's brow pitched in sorrow. "I. HAD." He looked down into his own arms that mimicked cradling a baby. "DAUGHTER." From the cradling sign, he raised an open palm from knee-level up, growing, then gestured towards Glinda as if to say like you.

And then he signed a word she now knew, so he left it unspoken. Forehead to his hand. Believe.

"W'ZARD. WILL. KILL." A pointed finger driving past Chistery's open palm. Kill.

Glinda's chin trembled. The tears were depleted hours ago but they somehow made their way through dehydrated reserves.

"They killed your…?" she gulped. Chistery nodded solemnly. Glinda started to shake her head. "He'll see what's happening," she whispered hoarsely. "Fiyero will. He'll get us away."

Chistery lowered his head in a grumble, shaking it slightly.

"NO. AWAY. HERE."

"I don't want to talk anymore," Glinda choked. She rolled over, wincing, and pulled the ineffective sheets back up to her shoulder. She pinched her eyes shut, but heard the simian footsteps cross to the other side of the bed. Begrudgingly, sensing his stare, Glinda opened her eyes. Chistery crossed an X formation at closed fists.

"PRO…TECTOR." He tapped his chest with an open hand. Then he reached to tap Glinda's shoulder. She let him. He repeated the word. "PROTECTOR."

"Who's my protector?" Glinda asked. "You?" Chistery shook his head.

"MY. BROTHERS. LIVE." Two fists with the thumbs up, raising at his chest. "W'ZARD. WOULD. KILL." Slash through the palm. "I. STAY HERE. OBEY." He rapped his chest again. "FOR BROTHERS. PROTECTOR." Gently, Chistery touched her shoulder once more. "YOU. FOR…" The Monkey either tried to form his lips around the prince's name or was trying to remember it. But by then, Glinda understood.

"For Fiyero."

Chistery nodded. Made the sign again. Pointed to Glinda.

Protector.