Chapter Text
This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen.
It was as if Elphaba could feel the sky crashing around her, broken shards of her worldview and her hopes and dreams shattering to the floor of the Wizard’s tower. And it was as if she was the only one who could feel it.
How could nobody else feel it? Madame Morrible’s betrayal hurt. The Wizard’s hurt more. The very man she’d hung everything on her entire life—the man all of Oz hung everything on—was useless. Worse than useless. Actively destroying the lives of every Animal in his carefully crafted paper kingdom.
How could Chistery stand there, hear those words, and accept it? Perhaps he was too trapped in the Wizard’s iron fist to speak up. But Glinda…Glinda wasn’t stupid. She may not care as much, but Elphaba knew she cared. She knew Glinda should be outraged by this…this act of terrorism. How could she stand there and ask her to calm down? To listen to the man who had taken Dr. Dillamond away, caged him, silenced him?
She’d talk to Glinda later. Right now, she was faced with deciding how exactly she would deal with the Wizard’s betrayal. She knew she should leave quietly, with a “thank you but no thank you,” if he would even allow it—or, rather, Morrible would allow it, considering she seemed to be the master of this puppet show. She should walk out, leave the city, and spread the word.
But the righteous anger flooded her so completely that she could hardly think. It swam through her veins, filled her chest, her throat, her mouth. All she felt she could manage to do was scream, and amid the Wizard’s platitudes and Morrible’s threats and Glinda’s pleas for her to hold on and Chistery’s pained whimpering, that was what she did. She screamed, and the power burst out of her.
She couldn’t tell what happened at first. Dust drifted from the ceiling, and she coughed, swatting it away until it settled enough for her to see.
Madame Morrible and the Wizard lay across from her, much farther away than they were moments ago. Elphaba could see spiderwebbed cracks on the wall above them, and a distinct dark, wet spot that, as she took in the sight, she realized was blood. Blood from the Wizard’s skull, which had caved in where it struck the wall. Morrible didn’t look too injured at first glance, but her neck had bent at an unnatural angle, and she was so, so still.
“Oh…” Elphaba’s gut twisted. “Oh, no.” She stepped backward on shaky legs, blindly reaching behind her for Glinda, desperate for something to ground her before she’d collapse. But Glinda’s hand didn’t meet hers, and she stopped cold when she realized how silent the room was.
“Glinda?” she whimpered. Her heart thudded against her ribs so violently that she was sure it would burst, and maybe that would be preferable. Maybe then she wouldn’t have to see what she’d done.
She turned slowly, praying that Glinda was only standing silently in shock. Praying that, even if she was afraid of Elphaba now, she was safe. Unharmed.
Her gaze passed Chistery’s body beside the door, wings outstretched and limp against the floor, and her eyes came to rest on the small pale figure lying at the other side of the tower.
The sight of her broke Elphaba out of her stupor and she cried out as she ran—stumbled, really—to Glinda’s side. She couldn’t think, couldn’t even breathe as she eased her friend from her side onto her back and searched desperately for any sign of life.
She got more than she honestly expected: Glinda’s heavy pink eyelids fluttering, lifting and closing as if she couldn’t keep them open.
“Glinda?” Elphaba slipped a hand under Glinda’s head to support it, gripped a delicate pale shoulder with the other. She could hardly control her strength anyway, but maybe her nails in Glinda’s skin would help keep her awake. “Glinda, look at me. Please.”
Glinda’s breath came fast and ragged as she forced her eyes open to meet Elphaba’s horrified gaze. “Elphie?” she whispered, her voice cracked and barely audible.
“I’m here,” Elphaba said. “I’m here, my sweet. Can you tell me where it hurts?” Her pulse buzzed like hornets through her entire body. What should she do? What could she do?
A quiet whine escaped Glinda’s throat and she squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head “no.” Elphaba supposed that probably meant she hurt everywhere, which she should have expected.
“Okay,” Elphaba murmured. “Okay. It’s okay. I’m just gonna look you over, all right? I need to see how bad it is.”
Elphaba slid her hand under Glinda’s back and winced as her touch caused her to cry out in pain. “I know,” Elphaba said, even as tears blurred her vision. “I know, darling, I know; I’m so sorry.”
Her hand touched wetness on the fabric of Glinda’s dress, and her heart dropped. It was a lot of blood, and that was only what had left Glinda’s body. She could feel something not right in her friend’s back—her ribs, she realized with a jolt. Her ribs were broken. Crushed, and probably tearing her apart from the inside.
Glinda wasn’t going to survive this.
As if to emphasize the thought, Glinda’s eyes fell closed again, and her breathing had already become quicker and shallower. It struck Elphaba like a bolt of lightning that if she didn’t do something now, Glinda would die.
Elphaba spun around and wildly searched the tower for the Grimmerie. She knew she shouldn’t use it, not after what she did to the Monkeys, but she didn’t have another option. Glinda would never make it to an infirmary, but this could save her if she was very, very lucky.
The book lay discarded a few yards away, and Elphaba scrambled to retrieve it before returning to Glinda’s side, keeping herself keenly aware of the movement of her chest signaling that it wasn’t too late yet.
Elphaba laid the book in front of her and frantically flipped through its pages, begging for some foreign symbols to stand out as what she needed. Intuiting was different from understanding, and she couldn't really read these words. All she could do was wait for one of the spells to dawn on her as correct.
She found it about a third of the way through the book, its pages illustrated with a skull and a shield. Her mind raced as she skimmed the words, confirming that this would protect Glinda from death. If it worked. If Elphaba could manage it.
She didn’t have time for doubt. She placed a finger on the page to track the words, reading aloud and summoning every ounce of power in her: “Enoleh pawah ah. Ekal se se’ath. Penaweh, penoana.”
Elphaba gripped Glinda’s wrist in her hand, willing with every bone in her body for the spell to take effect. She read it over and over, pouring her energy into Glinda through her touch, until she became so exhausted that she would collapse if she kept trying.
It had to work. She felt it working; it was doing something. But Glinda hadn’t come to consciousness, and as Elphaba stared at her, she murmured, “It’s okay, you’re okay. Wake up, Glinda; come on. You can do it.”
It was as Elphaba whispered, “Please, I love you,” that Glinda’s chest fell and didn’t rise again.
Elphaba couldn’t process it. She stared, still holding Glinda’s wrist and not breathing herself, as if convinced time had stopped and Glinda would take another breath when it started again.
But Elphaba had to breathe eventually, and Glinda didn’t. “No,” she cried. “No, no…Glinda, please. Please.” She dragged her friend’s limp body into her lap and hugged her tight against her chest, clutching the blonde girl who looked so frail now as if she could take Glinda into her body, give her new life. A sob ripped through her chest as she bowed her head to bury her face in that finespun golden hair and nuzzle against the crook of her neck.
A deep, dull part of her knew she needed to leave. Someone would come in soon and see this horrific massacre, and they’d know it was her. That she was the one who killed their Wonderful Wizard, his advisor, his guard captain…and an innocent girl.
But she couldn’t bring herself to move. She couldn’t leave Glinda. Not like this. She couldn’t leave her beloved friend lying alone on the cold floor while she escaped. It was her fault Glinda was gone.
Glinda was gone.
The words repeated in Elphaba’s mind, a haunting echo that she thought would probably last forever. Glinda was gone. Glinda was dead. And Elphaba, someone Glinda had trusted, someone she’d had faith in, someone she’d called her best friend just an hour ago, had killed her.
The pain was like nothing Elphaba had ever felt before. It rolled over her in waves as she fell in and out of denial, all the while holding her lost love as close as she could. Maybe it was some horrendible nightmare. Maybe it was just nerves; maybe she’d wake up back on the train with Glinda safe and warm against her.
But she knew she wasn’t asleep. She could tell by the sick roiling in her gut, the mocking pounding of her own heart. What she’d done was real, and she couldn’t take it back no matter how desperately she wished it.
She was sore and her face raw with tears when the tower doors finally opened. She’d come to terms with it, the punishment she would face for her atrocities. She’d hold Glinda until someone took her away, and then she’d let them jail her, or better yet: execute her. Put her down like the beast she was.
“What in the name of—”
The unfamiliar voice broke off, inhaled sharply. “Help!” he cried. “I need help—fetch Alta!”
Footsteps hurried into the room in the other direction, toward the Wizard and Madame Morrible’s bodies. The stranger murmured something under his breath, and then the footsteps approached Elphaba.
“You,” the voice said sharply, and Elphaba braced herself to be pulled away. She wondered faintly whether she would be killed immediately, or whether they would make her wait. Still, she didn’t turn; she kept her head bowed against Glinda’s.
“You, girl,” the voice said again. “What happened?”
“Something went wrong,” Elphaba murmured, her voice quiet and hoarse. “I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t—I couldn’t do anything.”
“You couldn’t…?” The stranger paused. “The Grimmerie,” he whispered. “The Wizard invited you here for that, didn’t he? Are you able to read it?”
“What does it matter?” Elphaba snapped. “It didn’t help. Everything’s gone.”
The man stood silently beside her for a long moment. “Everyone knows that even the Wizard couldn’t reverse death,” he said eventually. “It was very noble of you to try. Whatever happened—it’s a blessing he found you before such disaster struck.”
Elphaba couldn’t help the shocked, bitter laugh that escaped her. Didn’t this fool know that she was the disaster? Noble—blessing—the words made no sense.
The man knelt beside her. “Did you know her?” he asked. It took Elphaba a moment to realize he was talking about Glinda, and she nodded mutely. “What’s her name? The coroner will need to know to contact her next of kin.”
Elphaba swallowed hard, her throat unpleasantly dry. “Galinda,” she said. “Galinda Upland. Of the Upper Uplands.”
This was absurd. He should be screaming at her, calling for her demise. Why was he acting like she was an innocent bystander? She wanted to turn and yell at him, to tell him that she did this, that she killed his precious Wizard, but she didn’t have the strength. All of the fire she’d felt before had been snuffed out like a damp candle.
“Come,” the man said. He gently tugged at her elbow, and she shook her head, holding Glinda tighter. “Come with me,” he said again. “I’ll make sure she’s taken good care of.”
Elphaba took a deep, shuddering breath and shifted to lay Glinda back down on the floor. Adjusted her hair the way she would have liked. Held her face and ran a thumb over her rouged cheek one last time. She looked almost peaceful, other than the line stuck between her brow betraying how much pain she had been in.
“I’m sorry,” Elphaba whispered, fresh tears gathering in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
She heard the door open again and another set of footsteps, high-heeled ones, echoed through the tower. “Oh,” a feminine voice breathed. “Oh, Oz…”
“Alta,” the man said. He left Elphaba’s side to greet his colleague, and all she could do was sit quietly as they spoke in hushed tones.
“…no idea what happened,” the man said. “The girl tried to save them. She can read the Grimmerie, Alta.”
“She can?” Alta said. “What does this mean?”
“It means, despite this great loss, Oz will not be left without hope.” The man paused. “Get the girl somewhere comfortable. Get her to tell you her name if you can. She’s in shock. Do what you can for her. I need to speak with Hesper and Delmar. Don’t mention this to anyone until we decide how to announce it. We don’t want the people to panic.”
“Of course, Mr. Sedrick,” Alta said. “Oh, dear. I can’t believe…”
“I know,” Mr. Sedrick said. “It’ll be all right, Alta. Just tend to the girl and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Yes,” Alta said. “Of course.”
There was a pause, and then the click of the woman’s heels grew nearer. “Hello, dear,” Alta said. Her voice carried a soothing, motherly tone that immediately reminded Elphaba of Dulcibear, and she wiped her soaked face with her sleeve before finally tearing her eyes away from Glinda and forcing her stiff neck to look up at the stranger.
“That’s it,” Alta said, her lined face breaking into a comforting smile. She offered a hand to Elphaba. “Come with me, darling. There’s a private room you can rest in. Let me show you.”
Elphaba took the older woman’s hand and slowly, unsteadily brought herself to her feet. Her knees felt weak and she trembled with grief and exhaustion, but Alta’s grip on her hand kept her from completely collapsing. She followed the woman through the halls of the palace until they reached a door that opened to a furnished bedroom, and Alta led her straight to the bed.
“There you are,” she said. “Sit down, make yourself comfortable. The bathroom is right through that door there. Can I get you some water? Something to eat?”
The thought of food turned Elphaba’s stomach, which threatened to spill its contents if she opened her mouth, so she silently shook her head.
“Do you want company, dear?” Alta asked. “I can stay if you like. And if not, I’ll be just across the hall if you need anything.”
“I just—I just want to be alone,” Elphaba managed, and Alta nodded.
“Of course,” she said. “I’m so sorry for your loss, darling.”
Elphaba waited until the door closed, then rushed to the bathroom to be sick. She sat on the floor and laid her forehead against the cool emerald toilet bowl, her head and her heart aching with a weight that threatened to drag her through the ground.
She sat like that for hours until the call of the bed became stronger than her lack of will, and she shuffled back to curl up on the plush mattress as, somehow, another wave of tears rolled over her.
It didn’t feel real. Glinda couldn’t be gone. Not forever. It wasn’t possible. Her energy, her spark of life was so strong; it couldn’t be gone. It couldn’t.
She took a deep breath and stared out the window, lost in thought as her eyes absentmindedly searched the night sky for some kind of answer. She kept staring, numbness creeping over her, until the exhaustion finally tugged her into sleep as the light of dawn broke over the horizon.