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Ten years. For ten years they’d been living as hermits, completely shut off from society and with no company from outsiders. Such a lifestyle had been disheartening and oftentimes difficult, but they'd done what they felt was necessary to ensure their safety. They made do with what they had, however little, and in time each grew completely dependent on the other. That was the way it had been through the long years since Elphaba and Fiyero had escaped the Emerald City together, and by this point neither could remember living any other way.
They would have been content to keep on like that forever, but then their situation had changed drastically. It had been five months since Elphaba had fallen ill, and all hope of recovery had been abandoned some time ago. At first it had seemed like a simple virus. She'd been feeling fatigued and had developed a nasty cough. However, as the weeks passed and her strength did not return, the reality of the situation proved itself bleaker than they’d imagined. In a matter of two months Elphaba was bedridden, with hardly the strength to do anything on her own. Fiyero stayed by her side through it all, helping her in any way he could and attempting to make her as comfortable as possible.
When the sickness had first become serious, Fiyero had wanted to take her to a doctor, but they'd decided the risk was far too great. There was no way to know who could be trusted, and Elphaba had refused to go to anyone for help. She would not put Fiyero in danger for her own needs. She was always so strong, Elphaba, always so selfless. The hardships she'd faced in her life were nothing but unjust, but then no one had ever said that life was fair. Fiyero was the only good thing she had left. She refused to risk his safety on the slim chance her own life could be saved.
Elphaba could now practically feel death approaching. She could feel its icy fingers at the edge of her consciousness. She knew she didn’t have long. She lacked the strength to sit up straight on her own, and her power of speech was leaving her. She spent most of the day sleeping, and when she was awake, she said nothing, but simply lay in Fiyero's arms until consciousness left her once more.
It was with the knowledge that she would very soon be departing the mortal plain that Elphaba made a decision she’d been debating in her mind for some time. When Fiyero left her room to prepare breakfast (she always refused to eat, but he made it for her anyway), she used every last ounce of strength in her being to pull herself up into a sitting position. Reaching into the drawer of the nightstand that stood by her bed, she found a pen and a crumpled piece of paper and spread them out in front of her.
Her hand was shaky and weak, but her purpose kept her strong. She wrote with conviction, knowing there was no time to scratch out and rewrite each word, each sentence, each paragraph. She wrote with a sense of urgency, one final purpose before her heart stopped beating.
When Fiyero entered the room, it was to find his lover scribbling feverishly on the paper, her concentration focused completely on whatever it was she was doing. Fiyero recognized the glint in her eyes, for throughout this whole ordeal it had never left her. Elphaba had always been passionate, had always had a fire in her eyes. He knew that fire would never be extinguished, even once those eyes were eternally closed.
She looked up as he entered and beckoned him to her bedside with what little strength she had left. She took a shaky breath and spoke, her voice raspy and weak from illness, "Yero, you've been so wonderful to me. Could I possibly ask one last favor of you?"
"Anything," he said without hesitation. He took her limp hand and ran smooth circles along its green surface with his thumb. Her skin would never cease to amaze him. While it repelled others, he'd always found it fascinating. But then, he'd always found everything about her fascinating. She'd changed him in so many ways, and he could not bear to think about what his life would be like had he never met her.
She held the paper out to him. "Please, give this to Glinda. It's important to me that she know what happened. What really happened. I have nothing to lose now, and nobody will know you once I'm gone. There’s nothing left to fear."
Fiyero nodded as he wordlessly took the note from her. It had always bothered Elphaba that she hadn't been able to tell her best friend the truth. Fiyero's heart had broken for her, but he knew there was no way they could safely contact Glinda. She had listened to him and had actually given in for once in her life. She'd been resigned to wondering what her friend was up to and hoping that Glinda thought of her at least every once in a while. Fiyero was not surprised in the least that it should be her dying wish to have one last conversation with her friend, even if it was one sided.
"I'll make sure I get it to her," he promised, carefully placing the letter into the pocket of his ragged overalls. He'd been wearing the same outfit since they'd begun living in this cottage. There was really no reason for a Scarecrow to change his clothes, and he’d had none to change into even had that not been the case. His becoming straw had changed a lot about their relationship, particularly the physical aspects, but never the way they felt about each other. Their bond had certainly been tested and had transformed significantly over their years together, and yet Fiyero found that, even now, he wouldn’t change a thing about his life if it meant they’d ended up together.
Elphaba gave him a weak smile and slumped down into her pillows. Her breathing evened as she fell into slumber once more, and Fiyero let her hand drop to her side. If he left now he would be able to make it to the Emerald City and back by nightfall. For a normal human it was three day's journey on foot, but Fiyero needed no food or rest and could move continuously at a quick pace. Elphaba would be fine until he returned. She would most likely sleep through the day, and food was not a problem, as she hadn’t eaten a proper meal in over a month.
He left the room without looking back, afraid he would be unable to leave her. He had to fulfill her final wish, his last act in her name. She'd been through so much in her life. She deserved this at least. He tightened his burlap fists in determination as he left their small cottage, closing the door softly behind him.
He had no conscious memory of his journey to the Emerald City. He assumed it was because his mind was so full of other thoughts and worries that he’d paid little attention to his surroundings. His feet seemed to carry him almost on instinct, even though he had not been through these parts in many years. He could not explain it and did not try to. Nothing was important to him anymore but Elphaba and the final task she’d set for him.
Before he knew it, Fiyero found himself on the road that would lead him to the Emerald Palace. As he walked through the streets he was struck by the familiarity of his surroundings. Memories from his former life drifted back to him, leaving an ache deep in his chest. They'd all been so young then. They'd had no idea that their actions would so deeply affect the rest of their lives.
Fiyero had no trouble passing through the city, though some Ozians whispered as he passed by. Perhaps they recognized him as the famous Scarecrow who had disappeared without a trace so many years ago, but he pressed on without paying them the slightest bit of attention. He cared nothing about what they thought.
He squeezed through the gates in front of the palace, his straw body easily passing through the thin space between the bars. Wasting no time, he scaled the wall that led to Glinda's room, remembering every foothold. He'd climbed down this very wall once before, when he'd run off to save Elphaba from the Gale Force that day in the cornfield. It was the last time he'd ever been human, right before Elphaba had changed him in her attempt to save his life.
Fiyero peeked tentatively into Glinda's bedroom through the glass doors of the balcony. Satisfied that the room was empty, he slipped inside and shut the doors carefully behind him, not wanting to draw a curious staff member into the room. He strode purposefully toward a nightstand that stood tall on the right side of the bed. With great care, he took Elphaba's note out of his pocket and placed it on the table. He did not read it. It was not meant for his eyes. His job completed, he quickly left the way he'd come, leaving no trace of his presence behind.
When he arrived back at the cottage, the sky had already deepened to a dark cerulean. He lit a candle in the kitchen after he entered the house and then made his way back to Elphaba’s bedside. She stirred as she saw him enter. She didn’t speak the question aloud, but Fiyero heard it all the same.
"She'll get it," he said simply.
"Thank you," Elphaba breathed, chest heaving with the effort. He went to her side and took her hand once more. Her breaths became more labored and farther between, and then after a few minutes they came no more. Her final wish fulfilled, Elphaba let go. Fiyero let her now-lifeless hand drop to her side and went into the kitchen.
He'd made up his mind a long time ago, but he hadn’t said anything to Elphaba. He knew she would oppose the idea greatly, but he also knew that it was right. Fiyero Tigelaar had been dead to the world for quite some time now, and he was kept alive only through Elphaba. With her last breath she had taken his true identity with her, and so it was only fitting that his body be left behind as well.
He took the candle from its stand and went back into Elphaba's room. The hot wax dripped onto his burlap hand, but he felt no burn. He went and sat by her bed. He knew she was gone, and yet he felt no sadness. It would be foolish to grieve for his loss when he would be rejoining her in only a short time. There was nothing left for him here. He'd always known that there would be nothing left without her. Carefully he raised the candle and placed his fingers into the orange flames. The fire took hold immediately, and he watched as the flame spread quickly, consuming his entire arm in a matter of seconds. He felt nothing, but watched in a strange sort of fascination as the flames consumed him. It was only a matter of moments before he saw no more.
Glinda the Good returned later that evening from an important meeting in Munchkinland. She'd been having tea with the governor as they discussed the building of a new schoolhouse. A new line of governors had been started a few years prior. It had been necessary after the only two remaining Thropps had met their untimely end in quick succession. It still hurt Glinda to think about it, but life moved on. She had begun to heal over time, though she doubted the pain would ever leave her completely.
She went about her late-night routine as usual, finding nothing out of the ordinary. It was not until she was about to turn off her lamp that she found the unfamiliar piece of paper sitting on her dresser. She picked it up curiously and unfolded it, her breath catching in her throat as she recognized the tidy handwriting she had not seen for ten years.
Glinda,
I know it’s been a while, and I know that you’ve thought me dead for some time. At the time you’re reading this letter, my death is still a certainty, but it has happened a lot more recently than you suspected.
I could not go without letting you know the truth. Know that I always wanted to tell you, but the risk for all involved was far too great. I did not die that night at Kiamo Ko. Instead I fled, with Fiyero’s help, and we have been living quietly as fugitives ever since. Yes, Fiyero is alive as well. In fact, he’s the one who delivered this note to you. Do not attempt to find him, for you would not recognize him were he standing in front of you.
A few months ago, I fell ill, and it is that illness that is draining the last of my strength as I write this note. I could not die without letting my best and only friend know the truth about what happened to me. Now I say goodbye once more, as we did ten years ago. I am confident that you are doing great things for Oz, and I wish you only happiness in your future.
Elphie
Glinda read the note in shock, unsure what to make of it when she was finished. All the time she'd spent mourning for Elphaba, her friend had really been alive and well. Hurt and betrayal swelled in her chest, even as she found there was nowhere to direct them. She looked down at the note once more, unable to believe that Elphaba had only passed away only a short while ago.
She found that she could not cry. It seemed pointless now. She'd mourned for Elphaba when she'd witnessed what she’d though was her death ten years ago. Why should Glinda feel that heartache all over again now? She hadn't gotten the chance to see Elphaba again, had she? This note made absolutely no difference. Elphaba was still gone, whether Glinda now knew the truth or not. Her heart still ached for the loss of her friend, but not much more than it did every day of her life.
Glinda folded the note carefully and slipped from her bed. She proceeded to her closet and crouched down in the corner, where she retrieved an unassuming shoe box and removed the lid. Inside lay all she had left of her friend: the Grimmerie, a pointed black hat, and a little green bottle. She placed the folded note gently on top of these things and replaced the lid. That finished, she turned out the light in her closet and returned to bed.
Glinda found herself thinking about Elphaba for many hours into the night. She remembered their Shiz days, their trip to the Emerald City, and the way things had turned out in the end. It was unbelievable that Elphaba had been out there for such a long time, and that Glinda had never heard from her again. She felt a prickling behind her eyes, and her throat constricted painfully, yet her eyes remained dry. She'd been through all of this before. She had no tears left to cry.