The Effects of Gravity 1/?, by ainsleyaisling
Title: The Effects of Gravity 1/?
Author: ainsleyaisling
Rating: PG
'Verse: Musical AU
Pairings: Glinda/Fiyero, Elphaba/Fiyero, Glinda/Elphaba
Summary: Panicked at the thought of being left alone, Glinda manages to convince Elphaba not to fly off the handle - but at what cost?
Disclaimer: Wicked belongs mostly to Gregory Maguire, and musicalverse belongs to Stephen Schwartz, Winnie Holzman, and possibly Universal.
Notes: Prologue can be found here.
~~Glinda~~
Glinda let herself wake up slowly at first that morning. She was in an enormous, warm, surprisingly comfortable bed with her feet perfectly tangled in the bedclothes and her head resting against the side of Elphaba's arm (not her shoulder - Glinda had learned the hard way that Elphaba's shoulders were sharper than her temper). More surprisingly, Elphaba herself was asleep. If it had been Glinda's meeting with the Wizard that afternoon, she didn't think she'd still be sleeping at -
Wait. The Wizard. The Emerald City. She suddenly felt wide awake. This was their morning for sightseeing, for shopping, for . . . her brain started its own circular internal dialogue. All that green. But shopping and palaces and things. But the green. But cafes and shopping. Glinda sighed. A person could live with the green for one day, she supposed. With a bit of reluctance that had more to do with waking Elphaba than with the color of the streets outside, she gently ran the backs of her fingers up and down her friend's arm.
"Elphie," she said softly, rubbing her knuckles against Elphaba's arm with slightly increased urgency. "Come on, Elphie. Morning."
Elphaba drifted back to awareness slowly, her eyelids fluttering. At this unaccustomed proximity Glinda noticed something she had never seen before, and it made her smile fondly - Elphaba had tiny, almost invisible freckles near the corners of her eyes. "Hey," she whispered, letting that fondness seep into her tone. She turned her hand over and scratched lightly at Elphaba's arm with her fingernails. "Wake up, I'm getting lonely here."
Elphaba's eyes opened and focused on Glinda's face for a long moment; then she pulled away and sat up with an awkward haste. "All right," she said, looking down at her lap. "I'm awake. Sorry."
Glinda was confused and, if she admitted it, the tiniest bit hurt by Elphaba's sudden need for distance, but she forced a smile and said, "It's all right, we should just get out and enjoy the day. Right?"
Elphaba lifted her head at a slight angle and offered an apologetic smile in return. "Right."
"Good." Glinda reached out and brushed aside the curtain of dark hair that nearly covered one side of Elphaba's face. "Let's go."
When they finally reached the streets, both girls stood blinking into the bright sunshine for an uncertain moment, staring at a transformed city. The buildings were all still green, of course, but in the rush of the morning they were accompanied by bustling citizens and draped with unfurled banners, signs, and shop awnings in varying shades. Green streamers blended with pale yellow, blue, and pink ones, and ordinary goods such as bread and fish filled the stalls with their normal, beautiful, not-green colors.
"This is . . . not so bad," Elphaba said.
"No - it's kind of pretty." Glinda took a deep breath of Emerald City air, which suddenly seemed full of promise. From their position on the corner outside the hotel she could see the spires and domes of almost the entire city, buildings full of important people doing important, interesting, exciting things. The few tired souls they had seen on the streets the night before had been transformed into elegant crowds looking wise and sophisticated and moving as if they had somewhere fascinating to go. She tugged on Elphaba's hand and pulled her into the bustle, needing to feel that crowd moving around her instead of past her.
By the time they stopped for lunch Glinda could sense that somewhere deep inside herself she was probably exhausted, but the exhilaration of the day was keeping her afloat. Even Elphaba had a look of wonder on her face that Glinda had never seen before. Excitement and affection flooded through her, and she spontaneously took hold of Elphaba's hand over their table and said, "Let's live here."
Elphaba blinked at her as if emerging from a waking dream. "What?"
"Let's live here, when we're done with school. You and me."
"Together?"
The uncertainty in Elphaba's tone made Glinda tighten her hold on her friend's hand. "Of course together. You don't like being my roommate?"
Elphaba didn't smile exactly, but the emotion showed in her eyes. "Of course I do."
"Well then." Glinda released her hand and picked up her own fork, but she looked earnestly at Elphaba instead of at her plate. "Can't you imagine us let loose on this place?"
Elphaba laughed then. "Yes, I can."
"You're my best friend, you know, Elphie."
"You're mine, too." The words were spoken softly, but then Elphaba coughed and added, in something closer to her normal tone, "And not only because you're basically my only friend."
"I feel so very loved," Glinda replied with a grin.
***********
Glinda wasn't sure how so much could have gone so wrong so very quickly. One moment the Wizard's terrifying gold head had been booming questions at them and she had been instinctively trying to hide behind Elphaba, taking some little comfort in the feeling of Elphaba's arms around her waist; the next moment she had been caught between awe and nausea as she saw for the first time the real extent of her best friend's power; and now she was clutching Elphaba tightly while somewhere below them their trusted teacher told the world that Elphie was twisted, dangerous, wicked.
It would have been horrid for anyone else to have done, Glinda thought, but for their headmistress - the one who had encouraged and fussed over and petted Elphaba since the day she arrived - for her to dare to say the one thing that would hurt Elphaba more than anything else - to use her skin color against her - to call her monstrous, unnatural - sent an unfamiliar white-hot rage through Glinda's entire body. She felt that if Madame Morrible had come into this room with them right at this moment, she could cheerfully have killed the woman on the spot.
And then quite all of a sudden Glinda had bigger things to worry about. Like the momentary look of rejection on Elphaba's face, and the way she was climbing onto the windowsill with apparently every intention of flying off.
Up until this moment, Glinda had really thought she could continue to be the strong one. She had been able to swallow her further objections, able to smile, albeit weakly, able to wrap that old cloak around Elphaba's shoulders and try to offer her some comfort. She had been able to keep from throwing herself into Elphaba's arms, because she understood what Elphie was doing and why she had to do it, and she understood that she shouldn't make it more difficult for her to leave. Even though at the beginning of this wonderful terrible day she couldn't have imagined that she would be saying goodbye to Elphaba at the end of it, she had almost been able to do it. She had almost been able to kiss her goodbye and step away - until she actually saw Elphaba's hand reaching for the window latch.
Then her heart raced to match the insistent pounding of the guards' bayonets on the door, and she understood completely what she would be facing. Not just life without Elphaba. Not just school without her, not just having to explain to Nessa what had happened to her sister, not just facing their dormitory room alone. Not just facing the future they had so gaily planned, alone. Not just going back to being Galinda Upland, adored by all and really loved by none. It would be returning to the Wizard and to Madame Morrible alone, finding out what they had planned for her now that she knew too many uncomfortable truths. It would be returning to that den of manipulation and treachery and trying to navigate its traps and pitfalls, alone. And if there was one thing Glinda understood very well, it was that she was not cut out for that.
"No, don't!" The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she clapped a hand over her mouth in horror.
Elphaba paused with her hand still raised. "What, what's wrong?" she asked.
The nervous tremble in Elphaba's voice spread somehow to Glinda's entire body; she shook with panic and desperately cried out, "Couldn't there maybe be another way? Do you really have to -?"
Although her voice was still unsteady, Elphaba's expression of stern resolve softened and she said gently but firmly, "You know I can't stay, Glinda, you know I can't go along with what they have planned for me, I can't."
"Then don't," Glinda said, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "Don't do what they want, but don't - don't go."
"You're not making sense," Elphaba said. Her voice was still gentler than her words, but her eyes glanced nervously at the door, which had begun to shake fiercely under the pressure of the guards' attack.
Necessity made Glinda clever; anything she had ever heard about politics raced through her brain and she blurted, "Do it from inside, Elphie, don't you understand? Do what you want, do everything you want, but take the Wizard's offer, let him set you up in his government, and then -"
"Stage a coup?" Elphaba asked a little harshly.
"Well, who's he going to listen to, you, or Morrible? You have all the power, Elphie, you know she doesn't have half as much, you can do so much, but you don't have to do it as a fugitive, you don't, you don't -"
Elphaba closed her eyes briefly, effectively cutting off Glinda's desperate torrent of words. "Galinda, I can't -"
It was the sound of her given name on Elphaba's lips that finally broke Glinda - with an audible sob in her voice she gasped, "Please, Elphie, please!" She could feel the tears streaming down her face and didn't bother to wipe them away.
Elphaba hesitated for just a moment too long. It was long enough for Glinda to reach out and take her hand, and at the touch Elphaba's face crumpled as though her heart were breaking. She took one half-step down from the windowsill onto a nearby crate - and with a creaking smash of splintering wood, the Wizard's guards burst through the door and surrounded them.
"Stop it!" Glinda shouted wildly as four of them reached for Elphaba. "I told the Wizard I would fetch her back and I am - she's coming, don't touch her!"
Two of the guards took hold of Glinda's arms as well, and one of them jeered, "Well, if she's coming anyway, then there's no harm in us escorting you both back, is there? Just to make sure you don't get lost on the way."
Tears of fear and anger continued to flow down her face as Glinda tried to catch Elphaba's eye, but the guards were already dragging her out the door and down the stairs. As Glinda's guards followed, Glinda could see to her horror that the guards were taking no pains to be gentle with Elphaba, despite the fact that the girl was not struggling or fighting back. They prodded her with the ends of their bayonets as if teasing a wild animal, but she remained subdued, walking among them with her head bowed. Waves of shame and nausea washed over Glinda and she felt as though she might never stop crying.
When at long last they reached the door to the throne room, one of the few guards who had remained on watch there thrust out his bayonet to halt his fellows. "Just her," he said, gesturing to Elphaba. "They want her by herself."
"No!" Glinda cried out helplessly. Secure in their capture, the guards loosened their formation around both girls and Glinda was able to move next to Elphaba and take her hand. What awful things could they do to Elphaba in there alone, what could they not want Glinda to see? It didn't bear thinking about. "No, I'll go with her, please!"
"Just her," the guard repeated. He was speaking to the other guards, not to Glinda.
Elphaba turned. Her jaw was set and her eyes were dry. "It's all right," she said to Glinda. "I knew what could happen."
Glinda tightened her hold on Elphaba's hand. "But -"
Elphaba's hand tightened in hers as well, and her expression silenced Glinda. In those few minutes Elphaba had ceased to be a schoolgirl of eighteen - she was a woman grown, mature, stern, sad - and, if Glinda were honest with herself, she looked every bit a witch. "It's all right," she repeated, her eyes holding Glinda's.
Completely at a loss for anything she could possibly say at this moment, Glinda stretched up on her toes and pressed a quick, firm kiss to Elphaba's lips. When she had pulled away, Elphaba closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and turned to walk into the throne room.
~~Elphaba~~
With the heat of Glinda's kiss still burning on her lips, Elphaba strode with a confidence she didn't feel up to the Wizard's throne. She willed herself not to flinch as the giant head boomed, "Bring the witch to me! Bring her here!" At least none of the poor maimed monkeys were in sight - she felt the weight of her crime heavily enough without having them before her.
When the guards had bowed, with much banging of bayonets, and departed, the Wizard emerged from behind the head and said, "So you're back."
Elphaba breathed hard through her nose, trying to force some control into her shaking limbs, and shrugged. "I'm back."
"Did you reconsider, or were you caught?"
Thankfully, the Wizard's smarmy grin irritated her into a sort of calm. "I reconsidered," she said. "Though the hospitality of my reception left something to be desired."
"Decided you'd rather have the power and the glory after all?"
She shrugged again. "Maybe."
"Or maybe you were afraid."
"Or maybe I just realized Glinda was hopeless without me," Elphaba said, hoping he hadn't noticed the tremble in her voice when she pronounced her friend's name. "You got your claws well and truly into her, didn't you? I don't want to think about what she could do if she were unsupervised."
The Wizard crossed his arms and sat down comfortably on the steps in front of the giant throne. "Your esteemed headmistress led me to believe you were the only one with any talent - for sorcery, anyway. She seemed to think that Miss Galinda's talents were of the more . . . ornamental variety."
Elphaba hesitated, calculating. Was Madame Morrible here somewhere? Hiding behind the throne? And more importantly - what did the Wizard want most to hear? That Glinda was an empty-headed but rather pretty idiot whose blind loyalty might be enough to keep the otherwise unloved and unwanted Elphaba in line? Or that he could have two formidable witches for the price of one? She swallowed against the sick feeling in her stomach and casually draped herself onto the steps beside the Wizard.
"Maybe," she said quietly, "we don't tell our esteemed headmistress everything."
The Wizard's eyebrows lifted. "All right," he said. "I'm curious."
Elphaba dropped her voice even lower, so that he had to lean closer to hear her. "Madame Morrible has never liked Glinda, not from the first. Glinda was too much of a rival, even as a student."
"And you weren't?" the Wizard asked, matching her tone.
Elphaba laughed harshly, real bitterness giving it an authentic flavor. "Look at me," she replied. "But a sorceress who looks like Glinda . . ." She shook her head. "You can see the danger. At first Morrible refused to teach her, but I insisted . . ."
"Yes, this she told me."
"Glinda hasn't been doing very well in class, but you should see the kind of classes we've been having. With that kind of discouragement . . . anyway, we've been practicing together in our room and I can assure you, Madame Morrible has no idea what Glinda's capable of." Neither had Elphaba, or Glinda for that matter, but if this worked they could worry about the details later. Elphaba's entire body throbbed with one urgent need: Get Glinda out of the palace free and unharmed.
The Wizard's bloodshot green eyes looked intensely into hers. "So she can . . . perform, for you?"
For her? There was a slight, faint undertone of some kind of innuendo in his words - Elphaba grasped at it, but couldn't quite make it out. She nodded slowly, feeling her brow contract unwillingly in confusion. "- yes."
"And your agreement is her agreement?" He lifted his chin, held her gaze. "I was fairly certain from her behavior earlier, but she'll - she'll do what's necessary, to be with you?"
Oh. Elphaba couldn't keep her eyes from widening at the realization of what he believed, nor could she keep the muscles of her neck and jaw from tightening - but luckily, he would take that as surprise that he had guessed correctly. Her slight gasp was met with a knowing smile from the Wizard, so she nodded and forced the words past her lips. "Yes, she'll -she'll do anything I ask her to." Oz help her and Glinda both, that part at least might even be true.
The Wizard nodded. "That's what I needed to know." He pushed himself to his feet, looking down at her. "I don't mean to offend, but she's too weak for me to trust her constancy. I think she'll go any way she's pushed. I don't trust you either, but I trust your intelligence. I trust you know what's sensible. And if you're the one pushing her, then I can trust her, too." He disappeared behind the throne, leaving Elphaba suddenly boneless and feeling deeply unclean.
"Guards!" the Wizard's false voice boomed. "Bring in the other witch!" Elphaba thought that only she could have caught the slight hesitation before he said, "the other witch." But if that was what he believed Glinda truly was . . . well, that seemed to be enough to keep her safe for now.
That, and that he thinks she's your - Elphaba shoved that thought down, to be dealt with once they were out of here. She got herself shakily to her feet and waited for Glinda to be brought in.
Glinda entered the throne room with her eyes half-squinted and a look of trepidation plain on her tear-streaked face. Her sudden gasping relief when she caught sight of Elphaba made clear that she had expected to find Elphaba missing or possibly dead before her. She made to push past her guards, and the Wizard's voice boomed out, "Let her go!"
Unrestrained, Glinda dashed the rest of the way across the throne room and threw herself onto Elphaba. "Thank Oz," she murmured into Elphaba's shoulder. Her breath hitched and she sniffled quietly. "I was so worried, Elphie, are you all right?"
Warring emotions confronted Elphaba; she was profoundly grateful that the Wizard had not wanted Glinda in the room while he discussed her relationship to Elphaba, and yet shame washed over her for telling such a lie even outside of Glinda's knowledge. She forced herself to take a deep breath and groped for a sense of calm, of sternness, of something like blankness. Stiffly she raised her arms and embraced Glinda, but not tightly. "I'm fine," she said in a steady voice. "Stop crying now, everything's fine."
She could feel Glinda's chest heave against her as the smaller girl struggled to control her breathing. "I will," Glinda said very quietly. "I'm all right."
Firmly but gently, Elphaba put Glinda away from her. "I think we can leave now." She raised her voice and called out to the floating head above them. "Can't we?"
"You may return to your university," the head boomed. "Instructions will be sent."
"Th-" The words stuck in her throat, but Elphaba forced them out. This day was making quite the politician of her, she thought bitterly. "Thank you, Your Ozness." She placed a hand on Glinda's waist to turn her and steer her toward the door. The columns of guards watched them suspiciously, but they were not stopped.
They walked in silence. At the gate of the palace Elphaba realized she had been holding her breath; she drew in a gasping lungful of air, but didn't speak. Glinda walked beside her quieter than she had ever been. Elphaba's head pounded, not with pain but with pressure, power restrained, the blood throbbing through her veins. She could feel it all gathering like an invisible weight around her and on her, like the pressing of deep water over her head: despair, something too profound to be called disappointment, disillusionment, injured pride, lost freedom, fear, guilt, and the almost unbearable weight of the love that had kept her here. These emotions thickened the air and made it difficult for her to draw breath, she had to fight against them like an opposing current as she walked. Get back to the hotel, she told herself firmly. Just get back to the hotel. It became her new mantra, a safe point of focus.
As soon as the door of their room had closed behind them, Elphaba fell onto the bed and sobbed tearlessly, pressure closing her throat and choking her. Her world went black; she remained awake, but incapable of opening her eyes. The release of tension, the loss of adrenaline, the sudden freedom from any need to be strong, allowed her despair to break through and take control. The bed shifted and warmth enveloped her - Glinda, curling up behind Elphaba's prone body and holding her with all the strength she could muster. Her words forced their way into Elphaba's hearing through the roaring that had taken over her ears: "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Elphie."
Then there was a firm hand grasping her chin, another hand stroking insistently over her face, smoothing back her hair, trying to open her eyes. "Look at me, Elphie," Glinda chanted as if it were a spell she were trying to master, "look at me, open your eyes, come on Elphie, look at me, please."
Perhaps it was a spell, or perhaps Glinda's charm had its own magic after all, but Elphaba found herself unwillingly blinking, looking up into her friend's eyes. Glinda's face was set in determination - it seemed that Elphaba's weakness had the power to make Glinda strong. "Are you very angry with me, Elphie?" she asked.
Elphaba reached deep into herself, but she could find no anger. She understood that Glinda had been weak, that Glinda had pleaded with her to stay because she was not strong on her own, and that without Glinda's interference she would be flying away, a fugitive but free. But there was no anger. "Why should I be angry with you?" she said finally. The rough, raspy quality of her own voice surprised even herself. "You - you were right. You knew the smart thing to do."
Right was not the same thing as forgiven, and Glinda clearly knew it. "Do you hate me?" she whispered. "For getting us into this?"
After this afternoon Elphaba wouldn't have thought there was anything left of her heart to break, but the look on Glinda's face proved to her that a heart could indeed be broken twice. She slowly shook her head and rasped, "I'll never hate you. I couldn't." She sighed. "Anyway you didn't get us into this. I did, it was me."
Glinda bent to kiss her forehead, and Elphaba reached for the sense of emptiness she had almost achieved in the Wizard's throne room. It was a relief when she felt herself beginning to go cold.
Glinda sat up again, and Elphaba noted with detachment that the marks of tears still showed on her face. "Come on," Glinda said gently. "Let's get ready for bed." Obediently Elphaba let herself be raised to a sitting position, and she sat impassive as Glinda unbuttoned her dress and tugged it off her shoulders. Glinda hissed sharply as the dress fell away, and exclaimed, "Oh, Elphie, you should have said. Doesn't it hurt?"
"Doesn't what hurt?"
Ignoring her modesty, Glinda also undid the fastenings of the shift Elphaba wore under her dress and parted it to run her hands over bare skin. "These bruises, Elphie - is this what the guards did to you?"
Elphaba twisted to look over her shoulder - on her shoulder itself, and at the small of her back she could see purplish-blue bruises on the exposed green skin that looked as though they ran onto the rest of her back and sides as well. "I suppose they'll hurt later." She didn't want to tell Glinda about the sense of numbness, however welcome, that was spreading through her body.
Glinda's hands pushed her down onto the bed so that she could slide Elphaba's dress entirely off, and then gentle fingers did up the back of her shift again. "Try to sleep," she urged, stroking Elphaba's hair back from her face. "We'll get out of here tomorrow."
The thought of Shiz - Morrible's school - broke through Elphaba's carefully achieved emptiness, and she shuddered. When she spoke, her voice felt disembodied, as if it belonged to someone else. "I can't go back yet," she said matter-of-factly. "I even know Morrible won't be there, that someone else will have taken over, but I can't do it."
"All right," Glinda said without hesitation. "We'll . . . we'll write to Nessa in the morning, and send it by express. Fiyero too. They'll smooth it over with . . . whoever. I imagine you can afford to miss a few classes, and if you'll help me, I can too."
We've been practicing together in our room. Elphaba fought down a wave of nausea and nodded. "Thank you," she whispered.
"What are friends for?" Glinda replied. There was an unfamiliar note of irony in her voice that Elphaba didn't like, but she refrained from commenting. Glinda didn't say another word as she drew the curtains against the fading afternoon light, undressed in the dark, and slipped into the bed with her arm draped over Elphaba's waist.
*****
In the next section: Glinda and Elphaba return to Shiz, and learn that word travels a little too fast for comfort.
Author: ainsleyaisling
Rating: PG
'Verse: Musical AU
Pairings: Glinda/Fiyero, Elphaba/Fiyero, Glinda/Elphaba
Summary: Panicked at the thought of being left alone, Glinda manages to convince Elphaba not to fly off the handle - but at what cost?
Disclaimer: Wicked belongs mostly to Gregory Maguire, and musicalverse belongs to Stephen Schwartz, Winnie Holzman, and possibly Universal.
Notes: Prologue can be found here.
~~Glinda~~
Glinda let herself wake up slowly at first that morning. She was in an enormous, warm, surprisingly comfortable bed with her feet perfectly tangled in the bedclothes and her head resting against the side of Elphaba's arm (not her shoulder - Glinda had learned the hard way that Elphaba's shoulders were sharper than her temper). More surprisingly, Elphaba herself was asleep. If it had been Glinda's meeting with the Wizard that afternoon, she didn't think she'd still be sleeping at -
Wait. The Wizard. The Emerald City. She suddenly felt wide awake. This was their morning for sightseeing, for shopping, for . . . her brain started its own circular internal dialogue. All that green. But shopping and palaces and things. But the green. But cafes and shopping. Glinda sighed. A person could live with the green for one day, she supposed. With a bit of reluctance that had more to do with waking Elphaba than with the color of the streets outside, she gently ran the backs of her fingers up and down her friend's arm.
"Elphie," she said softly, rubbing her knuckles against Elphaba's arm with slightly increased urgency. "Come on, Elphie. Morning."
Elphaba drifted back to awareness slowly, her eyelids fluttering. At this unaccustomed proximity Glinda noticed something she had never seen before, and it made her smile fondly - Elphaba had tiny, almost invisible freckles near the corners of her eyes. "Hey," she whispered, letting that fondness seep into her tone. She turned her hand over and scratched lightly at Elphaba's arm with her fingernails. "Wake up, I'm getting lonely here."
Elphaba's eyes opened and focused on Glinda's face for a long moment; then she pulled away and sat up with an awkward haste. "All right," she said, looking down at her lap. "I'm awake. Sorry."
Glinda was confused and, if she admitted it, the tiniest bit hurt by Elphaba's sudden need for distance, but she forced a smile and said, "It's all right, we should just get out and enjoy the day. Right?"
Elphaba lifted her head at a slight angle and offered an apologetic smile in return. "Right."
"Good." Glinda reached out and brushed aside the curtain of dark hair that nearly covered one side of Elphaba's face. "Let's go."
When they finally reached the streets, both girls stood blinking into the bright sunshine for an uncertain moment, staring at a transformed city. The buildings were all still green, of course, but in the rush of the morning they were accompanied by bustling citizens and draped with unfurled banners, signs, and shop awnings in varying shades. Green streamers blended with pale yellow, blue, and pink ones, and ordinary goods such as bread and fish filled the stalls with their normal, beautiful, not-green colors.
"This is . . . not so bad," Elphaba said.
"No - it's kind of pretty." Glinda took a deep breath of Emerald City air, which suddenly seemed full of promise. From their position on the corner outside the hotel she could see the spires and domes of almost the entire city, buildings full of important people doing important, interesting, exciting things. The few tired souls they had seen on the streets the night before had been transformed into elegant crowds looking wise and sophisticated and moving as if they had somewhere fascinating to go. She tugged on Elphaba's hand and pulled her into the bustle, needing to feel that crowd moving around her instead of past her.
By the time they stopped for lunch Glinda could sense that somewhere deep inside herself she was probably exhausted, but the exhilaration of the day was keeping her afloat. Even Elphaba had a look of wonder on her face that Glinda had never seen before. Excitement and affection flooded through her, and she spontaneously took hold of Elphaba's hand over their table and said, "Let's live here."
Elphaba blinked at her as if emerging from a waking dream. "What?"
"Let's live here, when we're done with school. You and me."
"Together?"
The uncertainty in Elphaba's tone made Glinda tighten her hold on her friend's hand. "Of course together. You don't like being my roommate?"
Elphaba didn't smile exactly, but the emotion showed in her eyes. "Of course I do."
"Well then." Glinda released her hand and picked up her own fork, but she looked earnestly at Elphaba instead of at her plate. "Can't you imagine us let loose on this place?"
Elphaba laughed then. "Yes, I can."
"You're my best friend, you know, Elphie."
"You're mine, too." The words were spoken softly, but then Elphaba coughed and added, in something closer to her normal tone, "And not only because you're basically my only friend."
"I feel so very loved," Glinda replied with a grin.
***********
Glinda wasn't sure how so much could have gone so wrong so very quickly. One moment the Wizard's terrifying gold head had been booming questions at them and she had been instinctively trying to hide behind Elphaba, taking some little comfort in the feeling of Elphaba's arms around her waist; the next moment she had been caught between awe and nausea as she saw for the first time the real extent of her best friend's power; and now she was clutching Elphaba tightly while somewhere below them their trusted teacher told the world that Elphie was twisted, dangerous, wicked.
It would have been horrid for anyone else to have done, Glinda thought, but for their headmistress - the one who had encouraged and fussed over and petted Elphaba since the day she arrived - for her to dare to say the one thing that would hurt Elphaba more than anything else - to use her skin color against her - to call her monstrous, unnatural - sent an unfamiliar white-hot rage through Glinda's entire body. She felt that if Madame Morrible had come into this room with them right at this moment, she could cheerfully have killed the woman on the spot.
And then quite all of a sudden Glinda had bigger things to worry about. Like the momentary look of rejection on Elphaba's face, and the way she was climbing onto the windowsill with apparently every intention of flying off.
Up until this moment, Glinda had really thought she could continue to be the strong one. She had been able to swallow her further objections, able to smile, albeit weakly, able to wrap that old cloak around Elphaba's shoulders and try to offer her some comfort. She had been able to keep from throwing herself into Elphaba's arms, because she understood what Elphie was doing and why she had to do it, and she understood that she shouldn't make it more difficult for her to leave. Even though at the beginning of this wonderful terrible day she couldn't have imagined that she would be saying goodbye to Elphaba at the end of it, she had almost been able to do it. She had almost been able to kiss her goodbye and step away - until she actually saw Elphaba's hand reaching for the window latch.
Then her heart raced to match the insistent pounding of the guards' bayonets on the door, and she understood completely what she would be facing. Not just life without Elphaba. Not just school without her, not just having to explain to Nessa what had happened to her sister, not just facing their dormitory room alone. Not just facing the future they had so gaily planned, alone. Not just going back to being Galinda Upland, adored by all and really loved by none. It would be returning to the Wizard and to Madame Morrible alone, finding out what they had planned for her now that she knew too many uncomfortable truths. It would be returning to that den of manipulation and treachery and trying to navigate its traps and pitfalls, alone. And if there was one thing Glinda understood very well, it was that she was not cut out for that.
"No, don't!" The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she clapped a hand over her mouth in horror.
Elphaba paused with her hand still raised. "What, what's wrong?" she asked.
The nervous tremble in Elphaba's voice spread somehow to Glinda's entire body; she shook with panic and desperately cried out, "Couldn't there maybe be another way? Do you really have to -?"
Although her voice was still unsteady, Elphaba's expression of stern resolve softened and she said gently but firmly, "You know I can't stay, Glinda, you know I can't go along with what they have planned for me, I can't."
"Then don't," Glinda said, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "Don't do what they want, but don't - don't go."
"You're not making sense," Elphaba said. Her voice was still gentler than her words, but her eyes glanced nervously at the door, which had begun to shake fiercely under the pressure of the guards' attack.
Necessity made Glinda clever; anything she had ever heard about politics raced through her brain and she blurted, "Do it from inside, Elphie, don't you understand? Do what you want, do everything you want, but take the Wizard's offer, let him set you up in his government, and then -"
"Stage a coup?" Elphaba asked a little harshly.
"Well, who's he going to listen to, you, or Morrible? You have all the power, Elphie, you know she doesn't have half as much, you can do so much, but you don't have to do it as a fugitive, you don't, you don't -"
Elphaba closed her eyes briefly, effectively cutting off Glinda's desperate torrent of words. "Galinda, I can't -"
It was the sound of her given name on Elphaba's lips that finally broke Glinda - with an audible sob in her voice she gasped, "Please, Elphie, please!" She could feel the tears streaming down her face and didn't bother to wipe them away.
Elphaba hesitated for just a moment too long. It was long enough for Glinda to reach out and take her hand, and at the touch Elphaba's face crumpled as though her heart were breaking. She took one half-step down from the windowsill onto a nearby crate - and with a creaking smash of splintering wood, the Wizard's guards burst through the door and surrounded them.
"Stop it!" Glinda shouted wildly as four of them reached for Elphaba. "I told the Wizard I would fetch her back and I am - she's coming, don't touch her!"
Two of the guards took hold of Glinda's arms as well, and one of them jeered, "Well, if she's coming anyway, then there's no harm in us escorting you both back, is there? Just to make sure you don't get lost on the way."
Tears of fear and anger continued to flow down her face as Glinda tried to catch Elphaba's eye, but the guards were already dragging her out the door and down the stairs. As Glinda's guards followed, Glinda could see to her horror that the guards were taking no pains to be gentle with Elphaba, despite the fact that the girl was not struggling or fighting back. They prodded her with the ends of their bayonets as if teasing a wild animal, but she remained subdued, walking among them with her head bowed. Waves of shame and nausea washed over Glinda and she felt as though she might never stop crying.
When at long last they reached the door to the throne room, one of the few guards who had remained on watch there thrust out his bayonet to halt his fellows. "Just her," he said, gesturing to Elphaba. "They want her by herself."
"No!" Glinda cried out helplessly. Secure in their capture, the guards loosened their formation around both girls and Glinda was able to move next to Elphaba and take her hand. What awful things could they do to Elphaba in there alone, what could they not want Glinda to see? It didn't bear thinking about. "No, I'll go with her, please!"
"Just her," the guard repeated. He was speaking to the other guards, not to Glinda.
Elphaba turned. Her jaw was set and her eyes were dry. "It's all right," she said to Glinda. "I knew what could happen."
Glinda tightened her hold on Elphaba's hand. "But -"
Elphaba's hand tightened in hers as well, and her expression silenced Glinda. In those few minutes Elphaba had ceased to be a schoolgirl of eighteen - she was a woman grown, mature, stern, sad - and, if Glinda were honest with herself, she looked every bit a witch. "It's all right," she repeated, her eyes holding Glinda's.
Completely at a loss for anything she could possibly say at this moment, Glinda stretched up on her toes and pressed a quick, firm kiss to Elphaba's lips. When she had pulled away, Elphaba closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and turned to walk into the throne room.
~~Elphaba~~
With the heat of Glinda's kiss still burning on her lips, Elphaba strode with a confidence she didn't feel up to the Wizard's throne. She willed herself not to flinch as the giant head boomed, "Bring the witch to me! Bring her here!" At least none of the poor maimed monkeys were in sight - she felt the weight of her crime heavily enough without having them before her.
When the guards had bowed, with much banging of bayonets, and departed, the Wizard emerged from behind the head and said, "So you're back."
Elphaba breathed hard through her nose, trying to force some control into her shaking limbs, and shrugged. "I'm back."
"Did you reconsider, or were you caught?"
Thankfully, the Wizard's smarmy grin irritated her into a sort of calm. "I reconsidered," she said. "Though the hospitality of my reception left something to be desired."
"Decided you'd rather have the power and the glory after all?"
She shrugged again. "Maybe."
"Or maybe you were afraid."
"Or maybe I just realized Glinda was hopeless without me," Elphaba said, hoping he hadn't noticed the tremble in her voice when she pronounced her friend's name. "You got your claws well and truly into her, didn't you? I don't want to think about what she could do if she were unsupervised."
The Wizard crossed his arms and sat down comfortably on the steps in front of the giant throne. "Your esteemed headmistress led me to believe you were the only one with any talent - for sorcery, anyway. She seemed to think that Miss Galinda's talents were of the more . . . ornamental variety."
Elphaba hesitated, calculating. Was Madame Morrible here somewhere? Hiding behind the throne? And more importantly - what did the Wizard want most to hear? That Glinda was an empty-headed but rather pretty idiot whose blind loyalty might be enough to keep the otherwise unloved and unwanted Elphaba in line? Or that he could have two formidable witches for the price of one? She swallowed against the sick feeling in her stomach and casually draped herself onto the steps beside the Wizard.
"Maybe," she said quietly, "we don't tell our esteemed headmistress everything."
The Wizard's eyebrows lifted. "All right," he said. "I'm curious."
Elphaba dropped her voice even lower, so that he had to lean closer to hear her. "Madame Morrible has never liked Glinda, not from the first. Glinda was too much of a rival, even as a student."
"And you weren't?" the Wizard asked, matching her tone.
Elphaba laughed harshly, real bitterness giving it an authentic flavor. "Look at me," she replied. "But a sorceress who looks like Glinda . . ." She shook her head. "You can see the danger. At first Morrible refused to teach her, but I insisted . . ."
"Yes, this she told me."
"Glinda hasn't been doing very well in class, but you should see the kind of classes we've been having. With that kind of discouragement . . . anyway, we've been practicing together in our room and I can assure you, Madame Morrible has no idea what Glinda's capable of." Neither had Elphaba, or Glinda for that matter, but if this worked they could worry about the details later. Elphaba's entire body throbbed with one urgent need: Get Glinda out of the palace free and unharmed.
The Wizard's bloodshot green eyes looked intensely into hers. "So she can . . . perform, for you?"
For her? There was a slight, faint undertone of some kind of innuendo in his words - Elphaba grasped at it, but couldn't quite make it out. She nodded slowly, feeling her brow contract unwillingly in confusion. "- yes."
"And your agreement is her agreement?" He lifted his chin, held her gaze. "I was fairly certain from her behavior earlier, but she'll - she'll do what's necessary, to be with you?"
Oh. Elphaba couldn't keep her eyes from widening at the realization of what he believed, nor could she keep the muscles of her neck and jaw from tightening - but luckily, he would take that as surprise that he had guessed correctly. Her slight gasp was met with a knowing smile from the Wizard, so she nodded and forced the words past her lips. "Yes, she'll -she'll do anything I ask her to." Oz help her and Glinda both, that part at least might even be true.
The Wizard nodded. "That's what I needed to know." He pushed himself to his feet, looking down at her. "I don't mean to offend, but she's too weak for me to trust her constancy. I think she'll go any way she's pushed. I don't trust you either, but I trust your intelligence. I trust you know what's sensible. And if you're the one pushing her, then I can trust her, too." He disappeared behind the throne, leaving Elphaba suddenly boneless and feeling deeply unclean.
"Guards!" the Wizard's false voice boomed. "Bring in the other witch!" Elphaba thought that only she could have caught the slight hesitation before he said, "the other witch." But if that was what he believed Glinda truly was . . . well, that seemed to be enough to keep her safe for now.
That, and that he thinks she's your - Elphaba shoved that thought down, to be dealt with once they were out of here. She got herself shakily to her feet and waited for Glinda to be brought in.
Glinda entered the throne room with her eyes half-squinted and a look of trepidation plain on her tear-streaked face. Her sudden gasping relief when she caught sight of Elphaba made clear that she had expected to find Elphaba missing or possibly dead before her. She made to push past her guards, and the Wizard's voice boomed out, "Let her go!"
Unrestrained, Glinda dashed the rest of the way across the throne room and threw herself onto Elphaba. "Thank Oz," she murmured into Elphaba's shoulder. Her breath hitched and she sniffled quietly. "I was so worried, Elphie, are you all right?"
Warring emotions confronted Elphaba; she was profoundly grateful that the Wizard had not wanted Glinda in the room while he discussed her relationship to Elphaba, and yet shame washed over her for telling such a lie even outside of Glinda's knowledge. She forced herself to take a deep breath and groped for a sense of calm, of sternness, of something like blankness. Stiffly she raised her arms and embraced Glinda, but not tightly. "I'm fine," she said in a steady voice. "Stop crying now, everything's fine."
She could feel Glinda's chest heave against her as the smaller girl struggled to control her breathing. "I will," Glinda said very quietly. "I'm all right."
Firmly but gently, Elphaba put Glinda away from her. "I think we can leave now." She raised her voice and called out to the floating head above them. "Can't we?"
"You may return to your university," the head boomed. "Instructions will be sent."
"Th-" The words stuck in her throat, but Elphaba forced them out. This day was making quite the politician of her, she thought bitterly. "Thank you, Your Ozness." She placed a hand on Glinda's waist to turn her and steer her toward the door. The columns of guards watched them suspiciously, but they were not stopped.
They walked in silence. At the gate of the palace Elphaba realized she had been holding her breath; she drew in a gasping lungful of air, but didn't speak. Glinda walked beside her quieter than she had ever been. Elphaba's head pounded, not with pain but with pressure, power restrained, the blood throbbing through her veins. She could feel it all gathering like an invisible weight around her and on her, like the pressing of deep water over her head: despair, something too profound to be called disappointment, disillusionment, injured pride, lost freedom, fear, guilt, and the almost unbearable weight of the love that had kept her here. These emotions thickened the air and made it difficult for her to draw breath, she had to fight against them like an opposing current as she walked. Get back to the hotel, she told herself firmly. Just get back to the hotel. It became her new mantra, a safe point of focus.
As soon as the door of their room had closed behind them, Elphaba fell onto the bed and sobbed tearlessly, pressure closing her throat and choking her. Her world went black; she remained awake, but incapable of opening her eyes. The release of tension, the loss of adrenaline, the sudden freedom from any need to be strong, allowed her despair to break through and take control. The bed shifted and warmth enveloped her - Glinda, curling up behind Elphaba's prone body and holding her with all the strength she could muster. Her words forced their way into Elphaba's hearing through the roaring that had taken over her ears: "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Elphie."
Then there was a firm hand grasping her chin, another hand stroking insistently over her face, smoothing back her hair, trying to open her eyes. "Look at me, Elphie," Glinda chanted as if it were a spell she were trying to master, "look at me, open your eyes, come on Elphie, look at me, please."
Perhaps it was a spell, or perhaps Glinda's charm had its own magic after all, but Elphaba found herself unwillingly blinking, looking up into her friend's eyes. Glinda's face was set in determination - it seemed that Elphaba's weakness had the power to make Glinda strong. "Are you very angry with me, Elphie?" she asked.
Elphaba reached deep into herself, but she could find no anger. She understood that Glinda had been weak, that Glinda had pleaded with her to stay because she was not strong on her own, and that without Glinda's interference she would be flying away, a fugitive but free. But there was no anger. "Why should I be angry with you?" she said finally. The rough, raspy quality of her own voice surprised even herself. "You - you were right. You knew the smart thing to do."
Right was not the same thing as forgiven, and Glinda clearly knew it. "Do you hate me?" she whispered. "For getting us into this?"
After this afternoon Elphaba wouldn't have thought there was anything left of her heart to break, but the look on Glinda's face proved to her that a heart could indeed be broken twice. She slowly shook her head and rasped, "I'll never hate you. I couldn't." She sighed. "Anyway you didn't get us into this. I did, it was me."
Glinda bent to kiss her forehead, and Elphaba reached for the sense of emptiness she had almost achieved in the Wizard's throne room. It was a relief when she felt herself beginning to go cold.
Glinda sat up again, and Elphaba noted with detachment that the marks of tears still showed on her face. "Come on," Glinda said gently. "Let's get ready for bed." Obediently Elphaba let herself be raised to a sitting position, and she sat impassive as Glinda unbuttoned her dress and tugged it off her shoulders. Glinda hissed sharply as the dress fell away, and exclaimed, "Oh, Elphie, you should have said. Doesn't it hurt?"
"Doesn't what hurt?"
Ignoring her modesty, Glinda also undid the fastenings of the shift Elphaba wore under her dress and parted it to run her hands over bare skin. "These bruises, Elphie - is this what the guards did to you?"
Elphaba twisted to look over her shoulder - on her shoulder itself, and at the small of her back she could see purplish-blue bruises on the exposed green skin that looked as though they ran onto the rest of her back and sides as well. "I suppose they'll hurt later." She didn't want to tell Glinda about the sense of numbness, however welcome, that was spreading through her body.
Glinda's hands pushed her down onto the bed so that she could slide Elphaba's dress entirely off, and then gentle fingers did up the back of her shift again. "Try to sleep," she urged, stroking Elphaba's hair back from her face. "We'll get out of here tomorrow."
The thought of Shiz - Morrible's school - broke through Elphaba's carefully achieved emptiness, and she shuddered. When she spoke, her voice felt disembodied, as if it belonged to someone else. "I can't go back yet," she said matter-of-factly. "I even know Morrible won't be there, that someone else will have taken over, but I can't do it."
"All right," Glinda said without hesitation. "We'll . . . we'll write to Nessa in the morning, and send it by express. Fiyero too. They'll smooth it over with . . . whoever. I imagine you can afford to miss a few classes, and if you'll help me, I can too."
We've been practicing together in our room. Elphaba fought down a wave of nausea and nodded. "Thank you," she whispered.
"What are friends for?" Glinda replied. There was an unfamiliar note of irony in her voice that Elphaba didn't like, but she refrained from commenting. Glinda didn't say another word as she drew the curtains against the fading afternoon light, undressed in the dark, and slipped into the bed with her arm draped over Elphaba's waist.
*****
In the next section: Glinda and Elphaba return to Shiz, and learn that word travels a little too fast for comfort.