Chapter Text
“Ouch!” Fiyero touched his head tenderly. An automatic human response even though he had lost the ability to feel pain.
“What is it?”
Elphaba turned right and left, looking for an enemy. It was hard to open her eyes in the Impassable Desert.
The burlap covering Fiyero’s face was torn at the eye. Sticking out of it was something impossibly silver and bright. It looked like the hilt of a dagger.
Elphaba pulled it out of Fiyero’s eye, feeling a tinge of uneasiness as the object came with a tuft of straw. Until now, she wasn’t sure whether he needed the straw or simply needed to make sure his body was filled with something. She did not want to even think of how the Grimmerie stowed his living conscience in this body.
The object that she pulled out was strange because straw was sticking out everywhere. Elphaba removed the straw by the clump until she let out a gasp as she recognised the swirly curls of Nessa’s shoe. A shoe from a silver pair that Elphaba had coveted for a lifetime. Shoes that Glinda had given to that stupid girl.
“She was necessary so you could fake your death,” Fiyero said, already reaching into his knapsack for a needle and some thread.
Elphaba started, taking the threaded needle. She didn’t realise she had muttered the last bit out. Years of living alone had caused her to talk to herself. She had to catch herself often. Fiyero, however well-intentioned he was, did not understand.
How could he comprehend the guilt weighing in her chest with every step they took further away from Oz? He couldn’t and he didn’t. He didn’t understand the churning feeling she got - the nausea when she remembered Glinda’s tears and her quiet, “Oh, Elphie!”
Whatever relief she had felt at being chosen after meeting the Wizard, the relief of another human presence that night had evaporated at the arrival of the worst morning of Elphaba’s life. Nessa lay crushed under a house and Glinda had given her shoes to Dorathy. Livid, Elphaba had ran her mouth about, “… someone like him could choose someone like me…” because she knew exactly how to make Glinda the Good angry.
Likewise, only Glinda knew how to get a rise out of her. Only Glinda knew Elphaba promised never to leave her behind and she had gone and done just that two days after delivering said promise. Only Glinda knew that Elphaba was a wicked human being who slept with her groom on their wedding night. Only Glinda knew how much Elphaba lived up to the title of Wicked Witch.
For a moment it was as though they were back at Shiz - the name-calling, the physical fights, the intoxicating scent of Glinda that had matured ever so slightly. Elphaba had not realised how much she missed it all until that moment.
For one short moment, all she could see was the rage on Glinda’s face and then the flurry of blue and lavender skirts and pale limbs as the blonde barrelled into her. For that one wonderful moment, Elphaba had been transported back to defending herself from pummeling pillows from a determined blonde menace.
Reality returned in the form of General Cherrystone and his Gale Force officers. In the form of Fiyero, looking completely unshaven and unkempt as though he had just spent a night bedding someone. Her.
There was no reality worse than Glinda, who had taken in his disheveled state with a dawning realisation, who had held out Elphaba’s hat, gutting her with her teary brown eyes and wobbly mouth. Back at Shiz, Elphaba had seen Glinda hold back tears and she had comforted her more than a few times as she cried but this was different. The devastation written on the blonde’s face and her trembly, pursed lips was a million times worse because Elphaba knew without a doubt that she was the cause of Glinda’s heartbreak.
To add fat to the blazing fire that was Elphaba’s list of sins, Fiyero had sacrificed his life on the spot just so she could fly away like a damsel in distress. After the Melting, Elphaba had been relieved to see Fiyero alive - if you called being turned into a Scarecrow living. Over the last year, the guilt of turning him into a Scarecrow gnawed at her until it became increasingly difficult to meet his eye.
After patching Fiyero up, they packed the shoe in their one knapsack and continued to trudge through the desert. When they had finally settled down in a settlement in Ev, Elphaba had stared at the single silver shoe on occasion. The shoe brought back memories - it had been witness to almost all the worst and best things to happen in her life.
Staring at it, she could hear Nessa’s last words, “Elphaba, don’t leave me!” and yet she had left to see the Wizard. A fat load of good that had been. If she hadn’t gone to meet the Wizard, she wouldn’t have broken Glinda’s heart. Fiyero would have stayed with Glinda, completely human and definitely married. He wouldn’t have run off with her and Nessa would have still been alive. Glancing at it from a corner, she sometimes could still see two feet sticking out of the house - her sister’s frail body crushed beyond recognition.
Even hidden in a wooden cabinet that Fiyero had finally made for their meagre belongings, Elphaba could still visualise Dorathy in the cellar, refusing to give the shoes up. If Elphaba had been as wicked as she proclaimed, she would have just pried it off the girl’s legs, to hell with Glinda’s reproachful soft brown eyes.
“Do you regret me?” Fiyero asked one day, all too aware of her brooding. His eyes, once blue were now brown. Galinda brown. Elphaba didn’t know why they were brown - perhaps the Grimmerie knew the only eyes she could ever tolerate looking at the real her could never be blue. Or it had sensed the resentment she felt over his seeing-things-through-different-eyes comment and decided to give him different coloured eyes in his new form.
Whenever Fiyero asked about having regrets before, Elphaba had always said no. Somehow, a year and a half after the Melting, she replied dully, “I would have done things differently, if I could.”
Fiyero had looked at her. He looked hurt even though he must have been expecting her answer. He left the hut to leave her to self-soothe. The door closed with a soft click but it felt as loud as though he had slammed it on the way out.
Elphaba thought often of that last night at Kiamo Ko. Of the night of the Melting when she and Glinda had forgiven each other and said there was blame to share. Elphaba knew, even as she had forgiven Glinda for trying to survive the only way she knew how - to play the system from the inside - that she would never forgive herself for breaking her best friend’s heart.
The other shoe turned up two years later in the strangest circumstances. They had left the settlement in Ev more out of boredom than anything. After two years of being at the forefront of the resistance against the Wizard and in Fiyero’s case, years of being a royal prince and Captain of the Gale Force, it was strange for two people in their mid-twenties to do absolutely nothing.
A travelling caravan of Evians, dressed in the most colourful robes and face coverings to cope with dust storms had stopped at the little oasis where they had set up camp a month ago.
Fiyero saw the faint flicker of interest Elphaba had towards the silver item in the caravan. The swarthy Evian swore he had picked it up in the Shifting Sands in the Impassable Desert. Fiyero believed him - his burlap still had stitches from where the other shoe brained him. He haggled the price down until he could afford it with the last gold coin he had in his pocket.
Fiyero Tigelaar always got whatever he wanted, with the least amount of effort. He had never been a planner. He was always a doer. He grabbed opportunities that came by as life unfolded, in true Vinkun fashion. Galinda Upland had been one. The Ozdust another. The captaincy of the Gale Force yet another. And when the Wicked Witch of the West had flown in to look for the Wizard, he had grabbed the opportunity to reveal his undying devotion to her as well.
Looking back, their one night together had been the best night of his life. Time had a strange way of making things clearer in his mind - it might have been the best night of his life but had it been Elphaba’s? He did not like to think it wasn’t, but three years after the Melting with ample time to think and reflect, he knew it wasn’t. Not for her.
Thinking back, there were some things he wished he hadn’t said. Perhaps he shouldn’t have said she was beautiful if he looked at her differently. Perhaps it would have made the difference between him and Galinda. Perhaps it could have made Elphaba happy to be with him. It was abundantly clear, for all that Elphaba had been grateful to him for sacrificing his life and accompanying her out of Oz, that he was not her heart’s desire.
Fiyero didn’t think Elphaba knew either, what her heart’s desire was. There was a lot of self-blame and a slow, inevitable slide into depression. Elphaba hardly spoke and when she did, she avoided heavy topics. Fiyero knew she missed Oz, missed the resistance, missed Shiz and missed Glinda. Out here, there was nothing that sparked joy.
There was a night when he saw Elphaba sit outside of their tent, looking at the full moon. The night breeze was cold. Fiyero put a knitted blanket on her shoulders. The green girl smiled in thanks. He sat next to her on a makeshift stool and asked, “Do you want to go back?”
“I can’t but you can. You’re one of Oz’s heroes.”
“That’s not what I asked. Do you want to go home?”
“It’s not about what I want,” Elphaba had said after a long pause. “What would the Ozians do if the Wicked Witch of the West walks among them? The Tinman would start another witch hunt and I’d turn another person into…”
An abomination.
Fiyero heard it loud and clear.
“Besides,” Elphaba continued in a rare honest moment. “I don’t even know which part of Oz is home. I’ve never really belonged anywhere.”
Fiyero reached out to comfort her but Elphaba smoothly avoided his hand and turned, “I’m going to sleep.”
He nodded jerkily - he could hardly nod smoothly, being only stuffed with straw. That night, he decided that he would do anything to pull Elphaba out of her brooding mood. Therefore when the second shoe came to them in the Evian caravans, there was no hesitation in his mind to buy it.
Having successfully procured the other silver shoe, Fiyero walked jauntily back to their tent. He entered, letting the flaps close behind him. Elphaba was sitting at the table between their straw beds, knitting clothes with magic. He set down the silver shoe on the table.
Green eyes looked up, incredulously, “You bought it?”
“It belonged to your mother. And to Nessa,” Fiyero said with a shrug.
“With what?”
“I may have used up the last gold coin.”
“Fiyero! We might have needed that money for something!”
He shrugged, “It’s not as though I need to eat and sleep. I don’t need that money and it was mine to spend however I see fit.”
“Oh, Yero.”
Fiyero smiled as a green palm rested on his cheek.
“Thank you,” Elphaba said, taking out the other silver heel from her knapsack. “Although what I would do with these out here is questionable.”
“You could put it on!”
“No.”
“Come on, Fae. Don’t be a sourpuss. It belongs to you anyway.”
The silver heels sparkled as though agreeing with him. In hindsight, Fiyero reflected that that had been a sign. A sign that there was magic in that pair of shoes.
After a few minutes of cajoling, Elphaba finally put the shoes on. Her left foot slipped in. Followed by the right.
And then the love of Fiyero’s life completely disappeared.
Travelling by magical shoes is the worst, Elphaba thought. She had never known they could teleport or else she would have never put them on. Oz, her safety relied on the fact that she had to stay hidden. Her heart pounded and she could feel blood rushing to her head. If she had hackles, they would surely be up but all she could feel was a sick, sinking feeling. Dread.
She was in a vestibule of a building somewhere. Outside, she could see arches of flowers, as though no expense had been spared and was that a cathedral? She stood behind a floor-length mirror. There was hushed talking in the vestibule. Elphaba recognised the voice. She could recognise it anywhere. Glinda’s.
Of course. Of course anytime there was magic involved and she had to be anywhere in Oz, she would find herself near Glinda.
A low male voice was saying, “Let’s go, darling. Chuffrey’s waiting.”
“Give me a moment,” Glinda said quietly.
“It’s normal to have nerves.”
Elphaba’s eyes widened. Her eyes darted to the windows, trying to see where she could escape. The only way out, she realised was through the very doors that Glinda and she presumed, her father was about to walk through.
After several minutes, Glinda and her father left, no doubt to begin her bridal march towards Sir Chuffrey. For a moment, Elphaba had to tamp down a strange emotion. Was it jealousy? No, it couldn’t be. She had faked her death. She had left Oz. She had broken her promise, left Glinda and of course, Glinda had every right to move on. Still, something inside hurt.
Now you know how she felt when you left with the lion cub. And then with Fiyero, her conscience pricked.
She inched her way towards the door, hoping that once the ceremony was well on its way, she would figure out where she was and find a way back out of Oz.
She placed her hand on the doorknob, trying to listen for noise. She shrank back when she heard distinct noises coming her way. She ran back behind the floor-length mirror, hoping not to be seen. She had to bend her knees so that her black skirt covered the shoes’ shiny swirls. There was no removing the shoes. She had tried briefly, almost falling over when it refused to leave her feet.
Elphaba stared down at her shoes, wondering how it had gotten her here. If it had gotten her here, surely it was also the way back out of Oz. She racked her brains, trying to think of a spell. She knew she had none because she had always relied on the broom. She tried to think of home. Maybe that was what it needed. Nothing came to mind.
She tried picturing the oasis and the interior of the tent. The vestibule tilted and swayed at the vague concept of home, just as the tent she had been with Fiyero had done twenty odd minutes ago. Before she knew it, she was hurtling through the air again, although for only one clock tick.
When Elphaba opened her eyes, she was standing inside a large building. The stained glass looked oddly familiar because she had just seen it from the vestibule. She had just teleported from the small building straight into the cathedral. Straight into what looked like the entire population of Oz.
She was standing directly in front of Glinda and her groom. The shoes had apparently teleported her into the Minister, who had been knocked onto his backside. The man gibbered and crawled away, trying to get as far from her as possible.
Glinda looked startled as though she was seeing a ghost while Sir Chuffrey took a step backwards, wobbling before he found his way to the first row of pews.
For a moment, there was a tense silence. Elphaba wanted to say something but a group of blue Flying Monkeys wearing snazzy tuxedos surrounded her as screams erupted.
“It’s the Wicked Witch of the West!”
“She’s alive!”
“Is that her ghost? She melted!”
“Everyone stay in your seats!” General Cherrystone’s voice boomed over the panicking crowd. He seemed to be looking around for Gale Force officers. Elphaba found herself looking for the familiar dark green livery with gold braids as well. Like General Cherrystone, she could not find any. There were no officers. In fact, there seemed to be no security at all except for the Flying Monkeys.
Glinda, ashen in her wedding dress had a flinty look on her face. Elphaba recognised that expression. Glinda had seen an opportunity and was about to take charge. The blonde muttered under her breath, “Don’t fly off the handle.”
Elphaba stiffened. She was much older now. There was no more flying off the handle. In fact, she didn’t even have a broom now, therefore no handle to fly off from. After all this time, Glinda knew exactly how to push her buttons.
“I want everyone to remain calm,” Glinda projected to the assembled crowd. The crowd calmed down, which in Elphaba’s mind was a dirty, dirty trick. Galinda Upland had always had such power over people and to see it working so well now was a little suspicious.
“This is not the Wicked Witch of the West. This is my roommate from Shiz, Elphaba Thropp. As I’ve told you last year in the Ozian Times, she was invited to the Emerald City to meet the Wizard only to be vilified by him and Madame Morrible whom you all know is incarcerated.”
To Elphaba’s surprise, Glinda slipped her hand into hers, holding it firmly. She let out a soft gasp when she realised Elphaba was a real, solid person; not an apparition.
“You’re not supposed to clear my name,” Elphaba began shakily.
“Well, I didn’t make that promise,” Glinda said under her breath. “Now be quiet.”
Elphaba found it opened her mouth to retort but no sound came out. A flash of recognition travelled up her spine. Was Glinda using magic? Did Glinda have magic?
“As Throne Minister, I am appealing to all Ozians not to overreact the way we did during the Melting. Baying for someone’s blood without evidence is not the Ozian way.” Here, Glinda glared at something shiny in the crowd, which Elphaba realised with some shock was Boq. The Tinman was looking straight at her with undisguised hatred.
“When the Wizard left Oz because of what he did to the Animals, I intended to lead with justice and fairness and it starts here. Therefore, let there be a trial for Elphaba Thropp for her crimes against any Ozian who has a grievance against her. I encourage anyone with evidence to come forward and present it in the Emerald Courts one month from today.”
“Glinda,” Elphaba could finally say, her tongue loosened as though by magic. In a way, she supposed it was. “Glinda, I don’t want a trial. I just need to leave Oz and -“
The talk of leaving seemed to stiffen Glinda’s spine.
“I say you’ll have a trial and so a trial is what you’ll have.”
Glinda projected her voice out to the crowd again, “Do I hear any dissent?”
“Where will she be held until the trial, your Goodness?” A burly Munchkin asked.
“She’ll be in my custody at the Emerald Palace. If she disappears never to return or is killed by anyone who fancies themselves as Oz’s hero, you can kill me. I’ll be her surety.”
“What?!” Elphaba gasped. How in Oz was she to leave now?
Elphaba’s gasp was drowned out by the collective gasp of the wedding congregation.
“She’s too good!” came a familiar refrain that Elphaba recognised. True enough, Pfannee and Shenshen clapped their hands like the sycophants they were. This was followed by a collective sigh of agreement. Elphaba would have rolled her eyes if her brain wasn’t completely befuddled by Glinda’s shocking pronouncements.
“Your Goodness, what about your wedding?”
Glinda turned to smile at a young girl in front of the congregation, “What about it?”
“Aren’t you here to get married?”
Elphaba glanced at Sir Chuffrey, who was staring back at her with trepidation. The coward with a weak chin had not even tried to protect his fiancee once. Where did Glinda even find this sorry excuse of a man?
“I suppose I have to postpone it. After all, you all saw what happened. Right when our dear Minister asked if anyone has any reason why Sir Chuffrey and I should not be wed, she appeared.”
“What?” Elphaba’s head swivelled so quickly in Glinda’s direction that her neck protested.
“There, don’t you see?” Glinda smiled back at the little girl. “Someone has spoken up and therefore, it isn’t right to continue the ceremony until all the reasons have been brought to light.”
“I didn’t speak up,” Elphaba spoke from the corner of her mouth.
“You knocked the Minister clean off his pulpit, Elphie. If that’s not a clear sign of protest over this wedding, I don’t know what is.”
“Glinda.”
The two of them spoke without moving their lips and somehow Elphaba was transported back to lectures at Shiz when they did the same thing.
“Yes, Elphie?”
“You may continue the ceremony.”
“I won’t.”
“You’re in a wedding dress.”
“So? It isn’t the first time you’ve crashed into my weddings.”
Elphaba winced.
“You have a groom and…”
“I have work to do.”
“We’ve been through this. They need me to be wicked so you can be good.”
“Give me a month, Elphie. I’m going to strip you from all wickedness. Watch me.”
With that, Glinda dragged her down the aisle, smiling graciously at the crowd, telling them to enjoy the banquet prepared. Elphaba found herself smiling weakly, still dressed for bed, at curious faces as the Throne Minister introduced her to prominent Ozians. It was clear that Glinda had laid the groundwork for clearing her name long before she even materialised. Elphaba did not like it. Not one bit.
“Your Goodness?” General Cherrystone asked. “Where are you going?”
“I’m taking Miss Elphaba Thropp to the Emerald Palace. She and I have a lot to discuss.”
“We do?”
“Of course, Elphie.” The corner of Galinda’s lips twisted ever so slightly. “First of all, how did you escape Kiamo Ko?”
Plans made in haste were never good ones, Elphaba had always known. Therefore, the plan to escape out of Oz with Fiyero had been cobbled together from a distance - there was no time to talk things through. The mob was on its way and Elphaba had no time to practice disappearing beneath the trapdoor. She had been too busy saying farewell to her one true friend.
If her heart hurt from more trying to subdue her own crying against the closed door than from seeing a vision of Fiyero being beaten to death, she did not question it then. Not until an entire expanse of desert stood between Glinda and her. Not until she could finally name the emotion she felt towards Fiyero, and that emotion was not love.
In her mind’s eye, Elphaba could still see Glinda’s tear-filled face as she asked, “Why would you ask me to promise that?” She had thought the question was rhetorical - that Glinda would respect her last wishes, even if she hadn’t explicitly promised not to clear her name. But leaving had been for the best - Glinda could start afresh without the spectre of the Wicked Witch marring her days and nights. She had not known how effective Glinda would be once she left, although there was vague news out of Oz that her pink-obsessed ex-roommate was now Throne Minister.
Elphaba realised not only had Glinda not respected her last wishes - the blonde had actively been clearing her name. She wanted to open her mouth to ask that, but the pointy wand Glinda was holding was all too close to the bubble’s membrane.
They sat awkwardly next to each other in the bubble that the blonde seemed to have summoned, at least Elphaba did. Glinda spread her white gown as though they were having tea in a salon. She was looking at her hands and smoothening her skirts.
“Glinda,” Elphaba began. “I didn’t mean to crash your wedding.”
“It’s happened twice now,” Glinda said with a sad smile. “I’m starting to think it’s a nasty habit of yours. I should get married more often if only to see you.”
“I’m sorry,” Elphaba looked down at her own hands, lips pressed together to swallow the guilt growing inside her at the sight of glittering tears in Glinda’s eyes.
“So you were alive this whole time?”
Glinda’s voice was pleasantly even.
“Yes,” Elphaba replied, hating the serene expression on Glinda’s face. She would rather face Galinda, with her dramatic expressions and over-the-top reactions than this… this persona.
The blonde released a long breath as though to control her emotions and said, “Okay. So where have you been hiding?”
“Outside Oz. Fiyero was with me.”
“I see. So that’s why no one ever found his body.”
A look of hurt crossed Glinda’s face before it fell away behind the Throne Minister’s persona.
“He’s… he’s changed,” Elphaba stammered. “He’s a Scarecrow now.”
“I know he’s changed,” Glinda said quietly. The meaning of her words was not lost on Elphaba.
“Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I appeared out of the blue and ruined your wedding again. I just don’t know how -“
“How? How did you get here?”
The bubble landed smoothly on the balcony of Glinda’s suite of rooms. The bubble popped even though Glinda had not moved a muscle.
I…” Elphaba lifted the hem of her long black skirt. Underneath was the pair of glittering shoes - the most traitorous shoes in Oz, in her opinion. The shoes gleamed red for a moment, as though recognising Glinda.
Glinda took a look at her feet and then looked back at her.
“Did you tackle that girl midair?”
“What?”
“These shoes were worn by Dorothy the last I saw them and she was on the way home.”
“Home?”
“Yes, didn’t you know? She was from another world. The same as the Wizard.”
“But how…?”
Elphaba’s mind raced. The shoes had been found in the Impassable Desert, probably fallen from Dorathy’s feet. Fiyero had bought the second pair just a few hours ago from an Evian caravan. The shoes had been enchanted to bring the wearer home.
Elphaba looked up suddenly at Glinda, who looked like she knew something Elphaba didn’t. She didn’t like that look at all.
“Let me guess. These shoes brought you here. Brought you home.”
“Yes.”
“Not to Colwen Grounds. Not to Shiz, or to that Oz-forsaken hideout you had in the forest.”
“You knew my hideout?”
“The Animals led me to it. After everything.”
“Oh.”
“As I was saying, those shoes were enchanted to bring its wearer home. It brought you straight into Oz. Straight to me.”
Elphaba flushed a deep, dark green with sudden understanding.
“It’s not what you think.”
“Elphie,” Glinda looked up with an expression between hope and heartbreak. “Am I your home?”