Chapter Text
Glinda scalds her hand pulling on the burners. Her first instinct is to drop it completely, but her hand is frozen on the handle in fear. They’re decently high above the ground before Elphie grabs her arm to pull her hand down. That’s when it hits her. Not when she heard Madame Morrible call them terrorists, not when the guards were aiming their spears at them, not when she began to lose feeling in her fingertips. It’s Elphaba’s touch that pulls her back into the real world.
The realization floods her at the same time as the pain. What has she done?
–
They touch down outside of Munchkinland.
“My father won’t be looking for me,” Elphaba jokes to break the silence. Neither of them even smile.
–
In an entirely predictable sequence of events, neither of them can sleep. They lie by a bush for coverage, as if the giant balloon belonging to the Wizard of Oz himself wouldn’t give them away. Glinda knew she wasn’t smart, but even she could see that. Glinda cradles her still-smarting hand and pointedly does not look over at Elphaba. She hasn’t said a single word since following her into the balloon. If she doesn’t say anything, Glinda thinks, maybe Elphie will forget about her. Maybe she can run back to her parents. She burns with shame whenever the thought crosses her mind, which is often.
She sits up and looks around, still holding her hand to her chest. Elphaba is curled into herself in a way that Glinda’s never seen before, even at the very start of their time at Shiz. She’s shivering despite the warmth of the air. Is she…crying? Glinda inches closer. Elphaba isn’t crying, no. She’s laughing. Without really knowing why, Glinda begins to laugh too. They both laugh until their sides hurt, until there are tears streaming from their eyes, until they’re so out of breath they physically can’t continue.
“What was funny?” Glinda asks, wiping her eyes. Elphaba turns to look at her like she can’t quite understand her.
“I don’t know,” Elphaba says. “Just…look at us. An Upland – of the upper Uplands, no less – and the governor’s firstborn. On the lam!”
Glinda just starts sobbing.
–
The next day, Glinda fails to prevent Elphaba from reading from Grimmerie. She wants to believe in her friend, she really does. But after seeing what happened to all of the monkeys, it feels irresponsible. More importantly than that, it feels scary . Elphaba insists that it’s the only way to get them out of the woods without using the incredibly conspicuous hot air balloon, and won’t listen when Glinda asks her to at least let her try to use her wand to change the balloon to a different color. Elphaba performs a stupid spell that makes a stupid fallen branch fly. Stupidly. Glinda refuses to touch it, and finds a soft patch of grass in front of a tree where she can sit in a huff.
“How could you ask me to do this?” she asks Elphaba. “I’ve left… everything. My poor parents will be worried sick searching for me! And Pfanee, and Shenshen, and Fiyero! Oh Oz, poor Fiyero.”
Elphaba bristles at the accusation. Without turning to face Glinda she fires back. “I didn’t ask you to do anything! You followed me. You can’t possibly be blaming me for trying to do what’s right.”
Glinda considers her words for a second before asking softly, “Would you ask me?”
“I don’t understand how that’s relevant.”
“How could it not be relevant? If it came to it, just you and me, would you take me with you?”
Elphaba pauses. Then, defeated, “What do you want me to say here?”
“The truth!” Glinda all but shouts.
Elphaba finally turns to face her. “Would you come with me?”
Now it’s Glinda’s turn to take umbrage. “You’re avoiding the question! Would you ask me?”
“Yes,” Elphaba says calmly. “Would you come?”
Glinda pauses. “I’m not sure.”
Elphaba raises an eyebrow.
“No,” Glinda acquiesces, looking at her feet, “no I wouldn’t. But I think I’d regret it.”
Elphaba nods. Glinda gets on the stupid, stupid stick when she next asks. As long as she doesn’t look down, the wind is refreshing, and she begins to feel clean again.
–
When they touch down, in another stupid forest, the tension has mostly settled. That is, until Glinda asks: “Are you in love with Fiyero?”
Elphaba freezes in the middle of foraging for mushrooms. Her voice is about two octaves higher than normal when she replies. “Why would you ask that?”
“That’s not an answer, Elphie.”
Elphaba gets up from her crouched position and walks even further from Glinda. Even with her back turned, Glinda can tell that she’s worrying with her hands in the way that she always has when something bothers her. A heavy silence envelops them.
“I wouldn’t say in love, no,” Elphaba finally answers. “He… he interests me. I find him charming. But I’m not in love with him.”
“Oh,” Glinda says, deflated. “Thank you for being honest with me.”
“I’m sorry,” Elphaba says. “I really am.”
Glinda waits for a moment, the hurt burning behind her eyes. But she isn’t mad, not at Elphie. “I’m not angry at you. Really. If it means anything, I think he’s in love with you too.”
She means that as a consolation, truly, but Elphaba spins on her heel and marches right up to her, frustrated. “It doesn’t. I’m not ‘in love’ with him.”
“Why him?” Glinda asks, volume rising as desperation hits. Fiyero had been perfectly selected. Everyone found him attractive, he was almost as popular as she was, he didn’t ask her questions about herself, and he was far too much of a gentleman to ever try anything with her that she didn’t want. Beyond kissing, of course. But that was what couples did, and with Fiyero, it wasn’t bad. And that was the one who had caught Elphaba’s fancy. “Of everyone, why Fiyero?”
“I don’t know!” Elphaba shouts back, gesticulating wildly. “He was kind to me! Isn’t that enough? And besides, I’m not in love with him! ”
That’s when it hits Glinda. Hits like a slap in the face. “I’m not in love with him either,” she whispers. She only truly realizes the weight of her words when they’ve left her. She’s not in love with Fiyero .
Elphaba backs away slightly, smiling through her apparent confusion. “Then what are we arguing for?”
Glinda smiles back, grabbing Elphie’s hand. “I haven’t the slightest idea.”
–
It’s after a small dinner of slightly roasted mushrooms that Elphaba finally breaks down. Glinda has seen her sad, seen her dejected, seen her angry, but has never seen her cry. But what starts as just a few tears that Glinda tries to wipe away turns into full-body sobs.
“What am I going to do?” she asks. Glinda gets the sense that the question is rhetorical, but decides to answer anyway.
“Whatever you want, darling,” she says. “Whatever you decide, I think it’ll be right.”
“I want to go home,” Elphaba sniffles, then sobs some more. “I want my mother.”
“Oh, Elphie,” Glinda whispers. She pulls her into her arms, holding Elphaba’s head to her chest and running her hands through her hair. “It’ll be alright.” She could feel Elphaba shaking her head in her arms, the tears continuing. Glinda moves backwards and takes Elphaba’s head in both of her hands, forcing her to look her in the eye.
“Elphie, listen to me. I haven’t stopped believing it since I first said it. You can do anything you put your mind to. You are the smartest, most determined, most important person I’ve ever met. I will follow you wherever you want to go.”
She uses her thumbs to wipe away the slowing tears from Elphaba’s cheeks. “What you are doing is right . It is good . And one day the rest of Oz will see that.”
Elphaba sniffles some more and finally smiles, just a little. “I still have absolutely no idea where to start.”
“Oz, haven’t we already?” Glinda groans. “This whole little adventure has got to count for something.”
–
“What can I get with this?” Glinda had asked the munchkin. She had never actually booked a hotel before, relying on her Momsie to book her the most lavish rooms whenever she travelled. She had no idea what the rates would be in a place such as…this, but Elphaba clearly couldn’t be seen booking a hotel room in Munchkinland. She was hiding in a bush instead, where she would certainly blend in.
The munchkin man working the desk hadn’t even looked at her. Nose still buried in his newspaper, he pointed at the chalkboard behind her. “Rates are on the board, missy.”
Glinda was actually grateful, for once, to be completely disregarded. Elphaba was the more recognizable of them, but her face was plastered on every surface of Oz too. She scanned the rates from the bottom up (old habits die hard) and finally landed on something that would fit her and Elphie’s meagre budget. If they were to stay two nights, as they had planned, they could afford… a single. Well. That couldn’t be so bad, could it?
“A single please,” Glinda said, taking care to deepen her voice. It probably sounded strange now that she had already spoken normally, but the man didn’t even spare her a glance as he handed her a key.
“You got to take up your own luggage, our bellhop’s ill,” he said, finally looking at her. “Sorry about that.”
Glinda held back a sigh of relief. “Oh, no worries, thank you. And you can keep the change!”
There was no change, but it’s the thought that counts.
–
Now, Glinda and Elphaba were sitting on opposite ends of the small bed. Glinda had thrown open a window for Elphie to levitate their luggage up through, and Elphaba wore a ridiculous pink shroud that was only slightly less noticeable than her green-ness.
“That went well!” Glinda says cheerily. “We have two nights in a safe place, where nobody will think to find us!”
Elphaba doesn’t look at her. And Glinda can’t have her still being sad, not when things are finally looking up. She jogs over to the other side of the bed and sits down next to Elphaba. She takes one of Elphie’s hands in both of her own, and looks up at her.
“I’m sorry it’s not much,” she says. “But it must be better than those stupid woods, I promise.”
Elphaba clasps her free hand over Glinda’s. “Much better.”
Glinda’s smile widens, and Elphaba chuckles at her visible relief.
“You did well, Glinda,” she says. Glinda blushes at that. She’s used to praise, but not in a way that matters.
“Now,” Glinda says, in that authoritative tone she uses when she knows nobody is going to deny her, “let’s go to sleep. In an actual bed!”
Closeness was not an issue for them. Since the night at the Ozdust, Glinda had been reluctant to drop Elphaba’s hand for any reason. At times Glinda felt like she couldn’t get close enough to Elphaba at all, resting her head on her shoulder with Elphaba’s hands in her lap. Glinda couldn’t explain it, couldn’t even try, but sometimes it feels like she wants to crawl inside Elphaba’s chest and hold her heart close, to keep her from being hurt like she had been so many times before.
But when Elphaba climbs into bed beside her, there’s an awkwardness. Elphie faces away from her and curls in on herself again, like the first night.
“Elphie, you should get under the covers,” Glinda deadpans. “I didn’t pay for you to be cold all night.”
“ You didn’t pay,” Elphaba jokes back. “That poor man I robbed paid.”
Glinda giggles. “Oh, he’ll be fine. We’ll pay him back someday. Somehow.” She pats the space beside her. “Come here.”
Elphaba rolls over. She’s closer, yes, but not close enough. Glinda pouts. She slides as noisily as she can until she’s pressed right up against Elphaba. Perfect.
Elphaba looks right into her eyes. There’s a sadness there that there hasn’t been since the day they met. Glinda can’t stand it.
“Talk to me, Elphie,” she says. “Can’t we do that anymore?”
“Aren’t you tired?” Elphaba asks, still looking right at Glinda. “You care so much about what other people think. And they all hate you now.” Seeing the mild surprise on Glinda’s face, she drew back. “I apologize for my bluntness, but… I don’t understand.”
Glinda takes a second to think. “I try to put it out of my mind,” are the words she finally lands on. “Truly, I have to not think about it, or I’ll fall apart. I know it’s silly, to care that much–”
“It’s not,” Elphaba interjects softly, meeting her eyes. Glinda smiled.
“Thank you,” she says, smiling softly. “But… I don’t know. All I am is what people think of me. And now, I don’t even know if my parents would turn me away if I showed up at their door. But I know that I want to be good. And I want to do good.” She pauses for a moment, looking away. “I don’t think I know who I am beyond that.”
Upon this realization, Glinda sighs. “Sorry. We’re not even supposed to be talking about me. Please, Elphie. If you have a problem, let me fix it.”
But Elphaba was already soundly asleep, snoring lightly and pressed against Glinda’s side.
–
The second night at the hotel was a different story. They had spent the entire day “strategizing,” trying to think of hotspots of animal resistance. The only solid place they could come up with was the Great Gillikin Forest, which Glinda reluctantly agreed to, despite its proximity to Shiz. Any plan was better than nothing. But as night falls, Glinda is terrified . Whether it’s the idea of sleeping in the woods again, or the fact that the only logical route would take them near the Emerald City, or the idea of being so easily recognized the second they lost the cover of the forest, she can’t tell.
She walks to the small washroom attached to their bedroom, hoping that some cold water splashed on her face would help calm her down. As she looks in the mirror, she’s struck by the fact that she hardly recognizes herself. Her cheeks are sallow, her skin saggy, she has the darkest bags under her eyes she has ever seen, and the grease never seemed to fully wash out of her hair, despite the near hour she spent bathing that day. She stands in front of the mirror, watching herself poke and prod at her skin, not fully believing that it’s her own. Vaguely, she hears herself think that if she keeps touching her face, she’ll develop pimples like she’s never had before, but she can’t bring herself to stop.
If Popsicle could see me now , she thinks ruefully. She quickly puts the thought of her parents, whom she can only assume are deeply ashamed of her by now, out of her mind, and walks back to the bed, water already forgotten.
“Elphie,” she says, mostly to break the silence, “promise me you’ll be careful.”
Elphaba is writing something, head bent as she scratches her words on scraps of paper she must have torn off of wanted posters. She gently places her pen down, turns around, and looks up to smile at Glinda. “I won’t put you in any danger, sweet.”
The pet name is new, and Glinda doesn’t have time to think about the way it settles in her chest and makes her heart squeeze before she presses on, shaking her head. “That’s– that’s not what I mean. This whole thing is so dangerous. And if it’s just you and me, then…”
She trails off, not knowing how to articulate exactly what she’s thinking. She moves to kneel in front of Elphaba, taking both of her hands in her own and gazing up at her. She needs Elphaba to understand this, to know it as much as she knows the long history of Oz or how to make a coin fly through the air.
“What I mean is that I don’t want any more of this self-sacrificial air you’ve got about you. You, Elphaba Thropp, are far too important to risk your life for anybody else before you’ve even managed to get started. If–” she pauses, reassessing her words “–when we end up in danger, I want you to think of yourself just as much as you think of me. Promise me.”
Elphaba considers Glinda for a moment. She takes one of her hands out of Glinda’s and cups Glinda’s face with her right hand, stained with ink. Glinda can tell that nobody’s ever asked something like this of her before, and it makes her profoundly sad. Elphaba nods, and Glinda lifts her hand up to touch the one Elphaba has on her face.
Glinda eventually realizes that they can’t stay like that forever, and stands up, dropping Elphaba’s left hand with her right.
“We need food. I saw the most adorable bakery just down the road! Do we have any money left, or will I have to steal it?” She whispers the word “steal,” as if someone is listening at their door. It makes Elphaba smile.
“There should be enough for us to each have something small,” Elphaba replies, digging through her pockets for the coins. “And I mean small , Glinda.”
Glinda nods solemnly before taking the coins and dashing out of the room.
–
Glinda makes it into the bakery right before it closes. In all honesty, she’s still terrified of being recognized, but neither she nor Elphaba have eaten in two days, so she brushes her fear aside somewhat successfully. It is progress , she surmises, before making her way to the displays. The pastries tempted, but Glinda settles on two quiches. There’s a tiny bit of money left over, so Glinda hands it back to the scrawny teen working behind the counter. It isn’t logical, but his eyes light up through his double-thick glasses, and it makes Glinda smile.
The quiches smell amazing, and Glinda has to stop herself from taking a bite before she makes it back to the hotel room. This is a meal, and it should be treated as such.
Once inside, she proudly presents her selection to Elphaba. There are no plates to eat on and no silverware to eat with, but they don’t mind. It’s a decent, warm meal that wasn’t stolen, and right now that feels more like a luxury than anything.
They eat in a companionable, if uncharacteristic, silence.
–
That night, Elphaba doesn’t hesitate to curl herself closer to Glinda. And therein lies the problem – Glinda suddenly doesn’t know what to do with herself. This has never been an issue before, at least not since – not since Glinda hated Elphaba. Glinda burns with shame, pulling away from Elphie. The closeness is inciting an itch under her skin and a race in her pulse. Elphaba looks up at her, and Glinda fakes a smile. It doesn’t reach her eyes, though, and Elphaba can tell.
“What’s wrong, sweet?” She asks. And there it is again , that burning in her chest. Tears prick behind Glinda’s eyes as confusion and sadness sweep through her. How could I hate Elphaba now?
“I don’t know,” she whispers, the tears threatening to fall. “I’m sorry.”
Elphaba sits up to wipe away the tears, and Glinda thinks of the night at the Ozdust, how she had held Elphaba’s face in her hands and really seen her for the first time. And the dam breaks. The small sniffles turn to sobs and Glinda’s head swims. She buries her face in Elphie’s shoulder and just cries. She tries to ignore how the burning only gets worse when Elphie runs her hands through her hair to try to soothe her. It gets worse as she pulls away and looks into Elphie’s eyes. It gets worse as she studies her gorgeous green eyes and the confusion in them. Glinda’s face is hot, her eyes sting from the tears, and she burns .
“I need some air,” she says. She wrenches herself out of Elphaba’s tightening grasp, tries to soothe her flushed face and sore eyes, and practically runs out of the room.
The tears begin to fall as she runs down the stairs. When did everything stop making sense?