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They both had nightmares. Of course they did. It wasn’t possible to survive all that they had - the years apart, the betrayals, the deceptions, the losses - without their minds reflecting the scars (and straw) that made up their bodies.
Fiyero’s were often about Elphaba - about losing her, about the moment he saw her, arms pinned behind her back by the Wizard’s guards, fear shining in her eyes, despite the defiance on her face. She could have died that day.
Fiyero had died that day.
Sometimes his nightmares were about that instead. He remembered how his bones had snapped, how his voice had cracked, raw from screaming, how blood had trickled from his forehead, blurring his vision. He had clung desperately to the memory of Elphaba, to the image of her smile as she looked at him. If he was going to die, he had wanted that to be the last thing he would ever see.
He would wake up, gasping for air that he no longer needed to breathe, phantom pain running through nerves that no longer existed. He would curl over, trying to ground himself, trying to stay quiet, not wanting to disturb the woman sleeping beside him. He knew she still felt guilty about what had been done to him. She had saved his life - and perhaps, someday, she might even be able to make him human once more - but that was never good enough for Elphaba. She held herself to impossible standards. He hated adding to the burden she struggled to let go of. But no matter how hard he tried, she always woke up. She would wrap her arms around him, replacing his torturers’ cruel hands with her own, resting her head against his shoulder. He would cling on to her, eyes on her emerald skin. Unique, completely unlike anyone else in Oz. If green arms were holding him, then she was here. She was still alive. So was he. And that was enough.
She always woke up for him. And Fiyero always woke up for her. Though, to be fair, it was much harder to sleep through one of Elphaba’s nightmares.
When Elphaba had a nightmare, her magic became… volatile. Wherever they slept became a warzone, a raging storm that reflected the one in her psyche. Everything that wasn’t tied down - and a few things that were - flew into the air, were dashed against the walls, doors banged open, windowpanes rattled. Fiyero had seen what she could do - Wizard above, he was proof of what she could do - but seeing the raw power she wielded even while asleep was staggering. Frightening too, at least until you got used to it. The first time it happened, Fiyero had thought they were under attack before realising that none of the items hit him. And then he saw the way Elphaba’s fingertips twitched, the way her eyes were closed just a little too tightly.
She woke up. He reassured her. She apologised. He brushed it off. She didnt believe him. He promised. And he’d meant it.
So when he woke up to find their makeshift bedroom in chaos, Fiyero took a deep breath, cataloguing the situation as quickly as he could from where he lay. The hayloft of an abandoned barn made for a fairly sparse environment for her magic to lash out against, though it was certainly trying, rusted farm tools and rubble among the things being tossed wildly around the room. A few already-rotted planks of wood had been ripped from their places too. The only real loss was their lantern, which had been smashed against the floor below them. Thank Oz it wasn’t lit - I’m rather flammable these days. They could replace it somehow, Fiyero was confident - or perhaps Elphaba could just conjure light with her magic instead. She had been able to do that back at Shiz, Fiyero remembered it only too well - the sight of his (secret) crush, conjuring a shining orb as easily as clicking her fingers, bathing her face in warm light. She didn’t need the Grimmerie for that.
He would have been content to roll back over and get some sleep - after all, her magic had never posed a danger to him - were it not for two things: the first being that all the mayhem was loud, and the second being that this only happened when Elphaba was in distress. He couldn’t leave her trapped in it.
He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Elphaba? You’re having a nightmare.” He shook her, as gently as he could, remembering only too well some of the other wakeups she’d experienced after having a nightmare - she’d told him about them, about her father, in broken whispers, shrouded in darkness that hid the tears he knew were trailing down her face. He had no desire to make her relive those things, ever. “It’s me, Fiyero.”
She jerked awake, eyes flying open. Everything around them dropped to the floor as her nightmare ended, her magic withdrawing from the space around her. Fiyero always thought it happened a little too fast. He knew what it was like to wake up from a nightmare - the confusion, the fear that still lingered, the struggle to separate reality from the dream. Elphaba’s magic always released its hold on the room so quickly… as though she was suppressing her magic before she had even finished registering where she was. It worried him. Sooner or later, they’d talk about it.
Fiyero watched as a few stray blades of hay slowly drifted back down to the ground, settling on top of their blanket. Beside him, Elphaba watched them too, tearing her eyes away to push herself up, leaning back heavily against the wall of the barn, fists clenched tightly in her lap, breathing deeply. Fiyero twisted to look at her.
“Do you… want to talk about it?”
Elphaba blinked once, twice, before shaking her head. “N-no.”
“Okay,” Fiyero replied quietly. He shifted, sitting up next to her. He was glad that they’d moved past the panicked apologies that used to follow when she woke up from a nightmare at least. “Are you alright?”
Elphaba shrugged. “I - I guess so. It… it wasn’t real, anyway.”
“It wasn’t,” Fiyero affirmed. He didn’t need to know what it was to reassure her of that.
Elphaba met his eyes, lifting her hands, reaching towards his face. Fiyero remained still as she made contact with the sackcloth that now made up his skin. She cupped one cheek with her hand as she traced his jawline with the other, running a hand over his eyebrows, down his nose, through his hair. It always amazed Fiyero that she could look at him as he was now with anything other than horror - that she still wanted him even though his biggest asset was gone. And yet she did. Her eyes flickered with emotion - too many feelings to name: sorrow, joy, pride, relief. But her gaze didn’t contain even a trace of disgust.
“Y-you’re still here,” Elphaba said softly, half to herself. “They - they didn’t kill you. It was just a dream.”
And Fiyero knew what her dream had been about.
“They didn’t kill me,” he breathed. “You still have me.” I’m never leaving you. He pressed his hand to the one that rested against his cheek. “You saved my life.”
Elphaba swallowed. “I-I did.” She closed her eyes. “I - I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”
Fiyero shook his head. “Don’t apologise for saving me, Elphaba. No one else in Oz could have done what you did.” He smiled crookedly. “You’ve given me everything as it is. I have you.”
Elphaba flushed, cheeks darkening. Fiyero wondered whether she realised how beautiful she was when she blushed. “You - Fiyero.” She shook her head, but the tension in the air was fading, and Fiyero counted that as a win. “I should… do something. Clean up.”
Fiyero raised an eyebrow. “It’s a barn. I think if we’re justified leaving anywhere a mess, it’s a place like this.”
Elphaba bit her lip. “S-still. I… I did a lot of damage, it feels wrong to just leave it…”
Fiyero felt a frown flash across his face, but he smoothed it out quickly. The last thing he wanted was for the woman he loved to think he was angry with her, when it was her so-called ‘father’ he was truly furious with. That she struggled to consider leaving even an abandoned barn in disarray…
He reached out, wrapping her in his arms and dragging her back into the pile of blankets. She yelped in surprise, but made no move to escape, pressing further into his embrace as he pulled them closer together, tugging the blankets around them. “We can leave it. We will leave it.”
She rested her head against his chest. “Fine. Until the morning.”
“Until forever.”
“You’re impossible.”
Fiyero smirked playfully. “Ah, but you love me.”
Elphaba rolled her eyes, even as she gave in, relaxing fully. “Against my better judgment.”
“You wound me,” Fiyero said dryly, ignoring the fact that that was, quite literally, impossible.
Elphaba sighed, eyes slipping closed. “I-I do love you.”
“And I love you,” Fiyero reminded her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, closing his own eyes. With her against his chest - with his arms wrapped around her - they knew where they were. Who they were with. The separation was over, the danger was past.
There would be no more nightmares tonight.