Chapter Text
Elphaba carefully balanced a thermos of tea on top of her sorcery books, freeing one of her hands to open her room. Her first step inside fell upon a used pink tissue, which stuck to the heel of her boot.
“Elphieeeee–”
“Go to the infirmary, Galinda,” Elphaba sang back — a tune she’d been trying to get through her sick roommate’s head all quartertide. “Madame Morrible sends her well-wishes.” A lie, but a kind one. Elphaba unburdened herself of her books. Sitting down on her bed, she removed the tissue from her shoe — scented florally, because of course it was — then began to pick the remaining ones like poppies off the floor. As Galinda’s illness entered its fifth day, this was growing less and less amusing.
Elphaba lifted her gaze to Galinda, and perhaps the amusement resurfaced. Lingering ailment of some kind was certainly undeniable, but Galinda’s color was better, and she didn’t look quite so weak. Still, her curls were flattened and frizzy. Her nose was as red as Elphaba’s was green; but what would appall Galinda the most was the crust of dried mucous under her nostrils, and the stray hairs that stuck to it. Elphaba stifled the urge to show her a mirror, but smirked at the slightly wicked idea. She wouldn’t toy with her friend in such a state, but with Galinda’s dramatic display — one arm draped over her forehead and the other splayed out like a fainted damsel — she felt safe to assume that Galinda was at least starting to feel more herself. Elphaba didn’t mind the caregiving so much. Perhaps something inherent in being an older sister.
“If I haven’t already caught death, I’d be sure to catch it in the infirmary,” Galinda muttered. Congestion had brought the timbre of her voice slightly lower than her usual lilting soprano. “Momsie says that’s where people get skin lesions.”
“You didn’t even touch this,” Elphaba chided, gesturing towards a full pitcher of water and an empty glass that she’d set out before she left. She filled the cup and handed it to Galinda, dragging her limp arm until the blonde was begrudgingly upright in her wrinkled, pink nightgown. She put the back of her hand on Galinda’s forehead. “At least your fever’s gone. You should have let me send Fiyero to check on you, though.”
“Elphie, never!” Galinda cried out. “Oh, Oz, Elphie, if he saw me this way, we’d never be married! I’d die first!”
Elphaba tensed her entire face to keep the smirk from appearing on her lips. She managed a reassuring nod.
“You’ll die if you don’t hydrate.” She pushed the cup into Galinda’s hands. “Or worse — you’ll wrinkle.”
Galinda gasped. Elphaba gestured once more towards the water with a lifted brow, and her patient finally began to sip.
Locating a handkerchief in a dresser drawer, Elphaba dipped it briefly into the pitcher.
“Here, wipe your face.” She grimaced and carefully unstuck a few flaxen ringlets from Galinda’s upper lip. Only then did Galinda notice the mucous crust. She used the handkerchief, pulled it away, and Elphaba tried to keep her from discovering the contents of the cloth, but it was too late. Galinda’s expression collapsed into absolute revulsion, and Elphaba was quick to slap a verdant hand over her own lips, lest she be accused of not taking this seriously. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” she lied. Despite keeping any indication of a grin concealed behind her fingers, Elphaba’s reassurance failed, and Galinda’s shoulders started to shake with sobs. She dropped her head — half of her sticky hair going forward with it — and wept.
“I’m disgustifying…” Galinda choked. Elphaba crossed behind her roommate and began pulling her hair back.
“Only temporarily.”
“Elphie!” Galinda cried out. She turned, yanking her hair out of Elphaba’s hands. The green girl gave her a more genuine look.
“I’m kidding. You’re beautiful. Now either have water or some of this tea.”
With a spinning gesture of Elphaba’s finger, Galinda turned and allowed her to restart her hair. Elphaba moved more soothingly this time, sectioning pieces of Galinda’s hair with a careful comb of her nail. It gathered into a long, golden braid, sitting flush and secure so as not to get in her face anymore. Galinda smiled weakly and sipped her water, the dimple on one cheek remaining there for a moment — further reassurance that she was recovering, albeit slowly.
“How is it that you manage to avoid this plague?”
“I don’t know. Never got sick very often, I guess,” Elphaba said simply. She indicated the braid’s completion with a kiss to the top of Galinda’s head like she used to do with Nessarose, then busied herself disposing of used tissues. “Sensitive stomach, though. Dairy, meat…onions, for some reason…even diluted in a stock, an onion can destroy me for days.”
When Galinda didn’t respond, Elphaba looked up at her. She had her head back on the pillow and her hands covered her eyes.
“Surely I’m dying, Elphie. I can see the light.”
“I’ll close the curtains.”
“...thank you.” A pause. “Elphie?” Elphaba set the small trash bin — now full — aside and wiped her hands clean. She looked over at Galinda in acknowledgement. “If you don’t think you’ll catch it…can you sit with me?”
That ozdamn dimple. Still charming, even with a dripping trail of mucous alongside it. Elphaba grabbed a book and joined her on the bed. Galinda hugged onto her arm, resting her head against her roommate and Elphaba listened for Galinda’s breathing to slow, as it always did when the blonde attached herself to Elphaba’s arm.
When instead, Galinda began to tense and a small whimper escaped her, Elphaba looked down.
“Galinda?”
Behind closed eyelids, Galinda’s eyes appeared to dart tormentedly back and forth. She trembled. A cold sweat rose on her forehead, and her delicate eyebrows pitched in a silent cry.
A bang on the door. Elphaba’s name.
“Fiyero, she doesn’t want you to see her like this!” she called out. Elphaba held her roommate in front of her, frantically searching for the cause of her distress. Behind Galinda’s consciousness, Elphaba somehow knew she was screaming. Galinda’s hands shook, and Elphaba tried to hold them still, feeling tears sting her eyes. Though she couldn’t wake, they fell from Galinda’s too. “Galinda, what is it?!”
“El…phie…”
“Galinda!” She shook her. “WHAT IS IT?!”
“Help…me…”
“Elphaba!”
“Elphaba, wake up!”
Hands on her shoulders, shaking her. Fiyero’s blue eyes. The chill of sweat, sending shivers and lifting goosebumps. A burn in the witch’s arm — a slice through the skin — but when she looked down at it, there was nothing there. And the pain suddenly faded as quickly as it came.
“Elphaba,” Fiyero said more gently, moving her braids behind her trembling shoulders.
“She was screaming.”
“You were screaming.”
“No, I…” Elphaba trailed off, dropping her head into her hands. Memories of the nightmare quickly began to float away despite her willing back the details, but the emotions lingered. And Glinda’s voice…
“Help…me…”
Elphaba ripped the covers off herself and stood. Her jade skin glowed in the moonlight that came through a single small window of a barnhouse near Kumbricia’s Pass. Had she been less preoccupied, she may have found herself aware of Fiyero’s appreciative gaze.
“It was just a nightmare,” he assured her. “It’s over.”
“I have to fly.”
She lit a lantern and began pulling clothing from the closet. Warm layers, for the sky. When she emerged, her lover was there, taking her hips in his hands to slow her. She obliged with a breath and met his eyes.
“What is it?” His hands moved up, gracing the sides of her breasts with sweeping thumbs that pleaded her to stay. It almost worked. Elphaba laced his fingers with her own and kissed his hands.
“Can I tell you when I’m sure?” she asked. “I don’t know what I…I want to be sure.”
Another scan of her eyes, as if he could find the answer he was looking for; but he seemed to know just as well as she did that he couldn’t uncover anything that Elphaba didn’t want to divulge.
“Alright.” He kissed her forehead, then her lips before returning to bed.
Elphaba changed quickly. Chemise, corset, dress, coat, and cape. The broom at the door. She lifted off into the night, flying east toward the Emerald City.