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Elphaba sat in the dark. Water dripping through a crack in the trap door above her.
Eyes dry.
Heart broken.
Limbs cold and numb.
What if he didn’t make it back?
What if someone came and raided the abandoned castle?
What if she had truly gone mad and…
No.
She pulled the scrap of uniform from her pocket. Her fingers grazed it softly, her fingernail catching a loose thread. It was him. It had to be.
She hadn’t imagined it.
She unfolded the fabric, slowly as if it would disintegrate in her hand, his messy scrawl made her heart clench. She’d teased him for it at Shiz, asking if he purposely wrote with his non dominant hand or how else would it be so illegible.
His penmanship had begun to improve within a week of that comment, but slightly sloppy it always remained.
A tear fell down her cheek.
He had survived.
Fiyero was alive and he was coming for her and they could finally have a chance at a life.
A second tear fell onto his uniform.
She held it to her chest, just as she’d held him only days ago. What felt like a lifetime ago.
Technically it was a life time ago, she thought bitterly, they were both dead in the eyes of Oz.
In Glinda’s eyes.
She’d heard her best friend’s pained sobs above her head before, heard Chistery manage to speak to her. Maybe he could offer her friend some level of comfort. She longed to tell them both. But it was safer if they stayed in the dark. She had told Glinda everything would be fine, and it would. She just had to disappear, then it would all be okay.
Everything would be better with her gone.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed.
Was it night fall?
She was grateful to have been able to at least say goodbye. And Glinda... Glinda had needed to witness her death to believe it true. She needed to have no doubts, there had to be someone to confirm it. To truly believe the Wicked Witch was dead and gone.
Maybe that made her truly wicked after all, to force her dearest friend into seeing something that would leave her so frightened and filled with grief. She hated to inflict any more pain on her then she already had.
But it made Glinda safe. It made her and Fiyero safe. It made their escape possible.
She read Fiyero’s note again. The words that had brought her back to sanity, anchored her back in who she truly was. Reminded her that there was something beyond her anguish. That hastily written note had brought her back into her body, rather than adrift in her grief and anger.
“Fae,
I don’t know how you did it, my love. But I survived. And I have an idea.
It sounds impossible, but I’m the scarecrow with the little girl. I know-please just trust me, I’ll explain when I see you.
You saved me. Thank you.
Now we can escape. This can all be over and we can have a future. You can have a life.
There’s a huge trap door in the room by the balcony in the west wing. They believe water will melt you. Set up a bucket, set my arm on fire, Dorothy will throw it, I know it, And I’ll position myself, I’ll take care of it.
Just trust me as I trust you.
Put on a good show, Fae. And I’ll be back for you. Stay hidden. I’m coming. I promise.
We’ll be together always.
Yero “
Always.
She still hadn’t truly gotten a good look at him. The scarecrow? The whole time? That was what her half crazed spell had done?
Turned him into… something? Something still human?
It was unclear exactly what she had done to him.
Shame rattled through her bones.
Truly everything she touched turned to shit. She could never just do something right. Could never succeed. Could never truly help those she loved. Even in trying to save him, she had destroyed him.
She only brought harm. She knew that now.
Another drop of water hit her head.
If only she could truly melt into nothing but a puddle. Then this gnawing ache in her chest might cease for just one blissful moment.
She wished to disappear, to disintegrate as they all believed she could. Try again.
But that wasn’t possible, so she had done as he’d asked.
Of course she trusted him.
And his plan had unfolded perfectly.
He never was so brainless.
In fact, he was quite brilliant for his plan.
And he… he didn’t hate her for changing him. Not yet anyway.
Always, he’d said.
Her breath shook, fingers trembling as she clutched the fabric to her chest.
One thing at a time.
Get the hell out if Oz first. Consider the endless possibilities that the man she loved would grow to hate her at some point second.
At the edge of Munchkinland she’d thrown that fireball at him. Oz she could’ve killed him then.
A broken sob left her lips.
How could she not have recognized him? Shouldn’t she have known? Shouldn’t she have seen her sweet Yero and known him? What kind of person was she? How stupid? How reckless? How truly awful? She had every intention of harming a stranger, for Oz sakes.
What had she become?
A few hours prior, her eyes hazy and dry from endless tears and painful goodbyes she’d seen him again. She’d felt as if she was watching from outside of herself.
She couldn’t meet his eyes. But she’d seen him nod. Just the slightest bob of wispy straw in the shadows. She’d kept her gaze in his arm. She recognized his uniform jacket then, darker, stained with blood-
She’d snarled, said what she had to say in his general direction. She couldn’t have said such things looking at his face. She’d have broken, had she looked in his face, she’d have gone to him and collapsed in his arms, she knew it. She was too weak now. Too tired. Too broken.
But if she had done so, then they wouldn’t have this chance.
She’d barely touched him. Her broomstick trembling, hands sweating.
When she’d screamed, it was first in terror that she’d hurt him. The visions of what had been done to him by his former comrades forever burned into her mind.
The vision of his broken body, his eyes no longer shimmering with life.
She saw his damp arm after the water had hit him and remembered his plan. And she’d screamed.
She’d kicked the door subtly and began her decent, throat raw as she wailed. Her heart broken and bleeding, she’d screamed.
Guttural. Deep.
Screaming all she had wished to for the past five Oz-forsaken years.
The smoke and sizzling was a simple enough spell, it did the trick.
And when she’d collapsed on the cold floor, sliding the door shut to hide herself, she’d continued to weep.
She’d placed her hand over her mouth, biting her palm to stay quiet, she could hardly see past the blurry vision of her tears, her head throbbed, blood rushing in her ears, teeth threatening to crack from the way she clenched her jaw shut. She’d buried her face in her knees, cloak damp…
Then silence.
She was dead.
The Wicked Witch of the West was gone forever.
Leaving only a puddle of water and a strange hat her roommate had gifted her as a prank so long ago.
Such foolishness.
So silly and frivolous it all seemed now.
She stared into the darkness as she listened to Glinda mourn, a whispered “Elphie”.
She’d never forgive herself for the way Glinda’s once bright and bubbly voice trembled.
She would have to live with that. But she would, in fact, live.
Time passed.
And passed.
Now she sat here wondering if maybe this was hell. Maybe she had died, maybe she was too far gone and this was her punishment, forever waiting and regretting and hoping.
Then a knock.
And another. Then another.
“It worked!” She’d never heard such a beautiful sound as Fiyero’s gentle voice, his hopeful and relieved whisper.
She looked up, the door beginning to crack open, and for a second she continued to doubt. She couldn’t have a happy ending, could she? She couldn’t run off into the sunset and start over. That was a fate reserved for other people, not her. Never her.
She vaguely decided that if it wasn’t him, she’d just die again. Maybe for real this time and that would be fine.
But deep down, she knew it.
She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, that was her Fiyero, “They all think you’re dead.” He confirmed.
Light poured in over her head, she climbed up the little latter, “Fiyero?” She whispered. She could hardly believe it as she blinked in the sun, it was morning. “Yero…” a broken relieved laugh, “I thought you’d never get here.” Tears spilled. And she saw him.
She truly saw him then, looked in his eyes for the first time since he’d told her to flee the cornfield.
Yero. Her hero.
He looked different, but she could still see his features.
His hair was wild and messy, strands of wheat where his soft waves once were, his cheekbones defined, jawline sharp. Burlap stretched as a strange sort of skin. His eyes were darker, not the piercing blue she’d once known, but they were warm and so full of love and…. fear?
She reached for him, her hands froze. What if she hurt him again?
“Hey,” he said softly, comfortingly, “Look,” He wiggled his fingers, burlap, but solid somehow, “Good as new,” He smiled ever so slightly and she saw again the boy she fell in love with, a goofy smile across the dance floor at the Ozdust, a friendly face in their politics class, him holding a wriggling Lion Cub, she gently ran her fingers down the side of his face. “You saved my life.” His voice broke as he said it. She wondered if he could still cry.
Tears spilled freely down her own cheeks, she cradled his face in her hands, “You’re beautiful.” She said. And he was.
He was Fiyero.
A little different, but it was still him. And he was here, he was alive, and he somehow still loved her. That would always be enough.
He seemed to begin to speak, he closed his eyes briefly, his hands on her forearms, “You don’t have to lie to me.” He finally said.
“Its not lying.” She said, realizing he had said the exact same thing to her only a few days ago. She laughed, the irony, the relief, it all crushing her, “Its looking at things another way.” And she at last understood.
He hadn’t been lying that night. He hadn’t deluded himself.
He saw her as beautiful because he looked at her through his eyes, the eyes of the man who loved her.
And he was beautiful because she loved him.
And together, they made something so indescribably beautiful.
He laughed, pulling her further from the trap door and into his embrace, “Time to go.” She said. He nodded gratefully.
Together they stood, they kicked the door shut, putting an end to it all.
Fiyero took her hand to lead her out of the room, their new start awaited. He looked at their intertwined fingers with wonder, and she squeezed him. Then she looked back briefly.
Her hat was still there.
She considered it for a moment. She did genuinely love that hat. But it had become twisted. The silhouette of the monster they painted her as. And she felt… It was time to let go. She left it to sit there.
She followed Fiyero through the hallways of Kiama Ko to gather supplies and leave as soon as possible.
Now that she had died, it was time to live.
___
Fiyero ran.
He had no lungs, nor need to conserve oxygen or energy and no one to hold him back so he ran.
He watched that stupid hot air balloon float away with that evil man, he saw Dorothy click her heels and then he ran.
He ran away from the Emerald City, finally, never to look back.
He ran through the night, he didn’t need to sleep.
He stumbled, weak joints of straw and wood giving out on occasion.
Still he ran.
He didn’t care what it looked like, didn’t care that people wanted to stop and talk to the Scarecrow who had accompanied Dorothy. Didn’t care for the celebrations of Elphaba’s death. Didn’t stop when people thanked him for murdering her.
It didn’t matter, they’d be gone by tomorrow.
They’d be safe in mere hours.
So a man made of straw ran miles and miles to his love. He swore with each step to never be separated from her again.
Never.
He’d seen her drowning and he hadn’t been able to be care for her. He’d watched the woman he loved, so strong and bright and brilliant become a husk of herself.
He quietly vowed to spend a lifetime coaxing her back to the bright light that she truly was.
When he at last reached the castle, the sun was beginning to rise.
He looked around the perimeter. This would be the dangerous part, getting out and not getting caught. He saw a shadow and hid behind a pillar.
The sound of hooves on stone.
No no no.
They had come to search the witch’s castle, hadn’t they? He looked around wide eyed, no they were so close, it couldn’t fall apart now. His mind raced. He had to get to her, get her out of here-
A blue tail whipped out of the shadows. A sigh escaped the Horse. “Of Fi, you stubborn mule. You leave me all by myself now? And then Elphaba too. I… I thought Glinda was going to save her, that was why I brought her here…” Feldspur shook his head and continued to whisper to the walls of the hallways they’d once trampled through, “Now what am I to do without you, friend?”
Fiyero’s heart broke, he couldn’t leave his best friend behind.
He knew it was selfish, Elphaba was leaving Glinda, her best friend, behind.
But Feldspur… He could come with them, as a matter of fact, he should leave with them, it still wasn’t safe for Animals in Oz, not yet.
Fiyero knew it was foolish, but since when had that stopped him? He dared peak around the corridor, “Spur?”
Feldspur’s ears pinned to his head, he whipped his head around quickly, following the voice that was familiar, “I was never one to believe in ghosts, but this was always a strange castle.”
Fiyero laughed, “Its me, Spur.” He stepped into the light.
The Horse shook his head, “Don’t take me for a fool, sir. Please leave this place, you have no need, nor right, to be here.” He said sternly.
Fiyero took another step closer, “When I was seven and you were a foal we ran away together because I was failing arithmetic already and I didn’t want father angry with me, we got lost in the woods for four days. I ended up eating grass and puked all over your saddle.”
Feldpsur’s eyes narrowed at the strange straw man, “Don’t speak to me of things you know nothing about.” He snarled. “You killed her.” the Horse spat.
Fiyero’s heart ached, of course Feldspur would defend Elphaba, “No I didn’t. She’s waiting for me.” The Horse’s snout came to Fiyero’s face, he sniffed, ears still pinned to his head, “I shot an apple off your head with an arrow to impress a girl when I was fifteen. You didn’t speak to me for two days.” Fiyero continued to look in his friends eyes, “We nearly trampled the love of my life on our way to Shiz. You got me through five years of pretending to hunt her. We grew up together.” His voice grew quiet, hoarse, “You’re my best friend. Its me.” If he could cry, he would’ve, but he found his eyes remained dry no matter what emotions clamored through his heart.
Feldspur backed away, his ears coming forward, nostrils flaring, “Fiyero.” He whispered, disbelief in his voice. Fiyero flung his arms around his friend’s neck in a hug. Feldspur pressed the back of his head with his neck. “Fiyero how… I thought…”
“There isn’t much time.” Fiyero pulled back. “Elphaba saved me. I was as good as dead. Now she’s waiting under a trap door in the west wing. We’re leaving Oz tonight. Come with us.”
“Leaving?” The Horse gaped at him.
“What choice do we have, Spur?”
Feldspur looked around the abandoned castle.
What did he have here? He had the thought to assist Glinda, work with Chistery, but.. “Go get your girl. I’ll start gathering supplies.” He nodded, “Its good to see you, old friend.”
Fiyero sighed, “Thank you.”
And he ran up the stairs.
The sun was peaking over the horizon, they’d have to leave after dusk, under the cover of dark. They would have the day to prepare then. He swung the large doors open, and his eyes fell on that hat.
He remembered Glinda and Elphaba dancing together. He remembered seeing her stand defiantly, chin high, even as she was ridiculed. She had always been so much stronger than he. That was when he began to fall for her. And he would happily tumble for eternity, he’d do it all again just for one night by her side.
So many memories, so many days he’d thought he’d glimpsed that hat, only for her to slip through his fingers once again. Now it was hope, rather than longing that burned in his chest. Burnt straw lay on the floor, he subconsciously rubbed at his elbow, just a scratch. Nothing compared to... Well, he didn’t want to think about that.
He knelt by the hidden opening. For a moment he hesitated, non-existent heart pounding, what if she didn’t…
No, Elphaba didn’t care about these things, but still he wanted… He wanted to be worthy of her. He wanted to be the man she loved, his whole self.
He bowed his head. Just a little longer, then they would be free. He could do this.
He could finally protect her.
He knocked. Once quick, twice slow.
“It worked.”
___
Elpbaba put her hand over her eyes, the sun was bright, they’d been walking through the night, and now it was morning once more. They’d made good progress, already on the border.
The sands were harsh, the wind rough. Feldspur had galloped ahead to scout for a place to rest, thinking he saw an oasis. She paused for a moment.
One last thing.
Fiyero walked another two feet maybe, realizing she had stopped. “You okay?” He asked.
She nodded, turning back in the direction they had left in. She looked to the East, back to Oz.
Of course, there was further to go to the Badlands... Or beyond. But they were nearly out of Oz. She felt her chest loosen ever so slightly.
There was one more thing to do.
She thought of Glinda, the promise her friend had made to do good and not clear her name. She hoped she was doing such, trusted that change could be made, given time.
Elphaba needed to let the last of it go though. She took a deep breath. There was a magical bond she had formed with the grimmerie. The book having revealed spells to her when she needed them most. She envisioned the cord that bound them, a string of gold, and she severed it.
She focused her magic, letting her end of the cord drift all the way to the Emerald City.
And with that it was over. She felt her own magic settle in her stomach once more. The shimmering power still swirling through her veins. Grounded, steady, she now felt it as her companion, rather than a nuisance.
She nodded.
She turned to Fiyero, grasped his hand tightly in hers and turned away from Oz, towards their future.
She leaned her head on his shoulder for a moment, “Always, Yero.”
He didn’t quite understand, but squeezed her hand, “Always, Fae.”