Exodus 4/?
Fandom: Wicked (Book)
Characters: General Cast
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Implied non-con, captivity, physical abuse.
Summary: Based off of the Gregory Maguire Wicked Years, AU. The Philosophy Club is everything it's rumored to be; disgusting and filthy with unspeakable acts happening in every corner. What Fiyero Tigelaar didn't expect was to find an enchanting emerald woman locked away in the basement, a slave to the club's mysterious owners. Warnings for non-con, captivity, physical abuse, and language.
It was hard for Elphaba, trying to determine which fate was more terrifying. Certainly the life she’d been sentenced to in the Philosophy Club was not a life at all. She’d been abused for as long as she could remember, sold to the highest paying customer and forced to bend to their will. There were punishments, even when she did listen.
Indeed much of her life had been unspeakable.
However, it was what she knew, what she was used to.
Now she stood with a boy she did not know, in the dark and dank underground city he kept calling the Southstairs. The name made no sense to her as the word ‘stairs’ insinuated there were some form of escape. If she were to name it, she’d have called it purgatory for clearly, there was no way out.
The trapdoor to the Philosophy Club was far behind them, or at least they believed so. Every street looked like the next as they navigated through the darkness. When they came to what seemed to be the same intersection of tunnels for what had to be the fifth time, Elphaba finally stopped Fiyero.
“We’re going to die here, aren’t we?” It was less of a question, more of a statement.
“Nobody is dying,” he answered, frustrated, “we’ll get out of here. We just have to find the way out. That’s all.”
Elphaba looked around them, trying to find something, anything, that was different from what they’d seen before, “You should have left me there.”
Fiyero recoiled slightly, tension mounting through his frustration, “You’re welcome.”
“I’m simply saying that we’re lost. We’re in a place that neither one of us are going to get out of and for what?” she asked, “What’s the point?”
“Your freedom?”
“This isn’t freedom. This is just an earlier grave. For both of us. You had a life, presumably, and now you’ve wasted it on me, on somebody you don’t even know. It’s not worth it.”
He studied her as best he could through the dim light, trying to remind himself of what she’d been through. Fiyero couldn’t even to begin to imagine the horrors of her life, “Elphaba. I-I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I saw you and I knew that I had to get you out of that place. I don’t know why and I don’t know what it means but it was something I had to do. So just stop. Stop saying that you’re not worth it because however long or short my life may be, you are my fate.”
Whatever that meant, Fiyero thought to himself. He could remember so little of the maps and of the short amount of planning he’d done but he could still remember Yackle’s words clearly.
Elphaba had no response for his words. What could she say to him? She flinched when she felt his fingers wrap around her wrist and she quickly pulled her arms away, “Don’t touch me.” She paused a second and then added, “Please.”
He nodded slightly, mentally chiding himself for doing so. He’d been around her long enough to know that she was skittish when it came to physical contact and rightfully so. It was highly unlikely that anyone had ever touched her with innocent intention, “We’ll go this way.”
Resigning to the fact that the fool wasn’t going to give up, Elphaba followed behind him quietly. She was powerless to do anything else.
xx
“Until this morning,” Galinda pronounced amongst her peers, “I don’t believe I’ve ever truly had a throbbing headache.”
Avaric tried to laugh off the comment as if he had been immune to the effects of the prior evening’s debauchery but he couldn’t muster the energy, “We need to find a new place to enjoy an evening out.”
The collective grumbled in agreement, trying to pull themselves together. Tibbett and Crope were in various stages of undress, tangled in each other’s limbs and Pfannee eyed them warily, “Does anybody actually remember what happened last night?”
Galinda couldn’t even shake her head to answer. She’d never quite had a headache like this one. Her eyes lifted to the group and she tried to assess the situation as best she could. After a brief moment of surveying their group she sat up straighter, “Where’s Fiyero?”
Boq looked up at Galinda in confusion, “What’s a Fiyero?”
“Come now, Boq. I know that you didn’t indulge in that much alcohol last night,” she paused, “as a matter of fact, I know you didn’t. You were practically perched on my shoulder.”
“And he still didn’t get lucky,” quipped Avaric in a tone that was a far cry from his typical brand of arrogance.
Galinda shot a look at Avaric, “I’m being serious. We’re missing one of our own. Where is Fiyero? Has anybody seen him since we were at the club.”
The rest of the group shared a silent exchange of glances before Avaric finally spoke up, “Galinda, maybe we need to get you back to the university.”
“I’m not going anywhere until somebody answers me,” she refuted, doing her best to appear as if she would not be moved by words or force.
After another period of awkward silence, Boq was the one who finally mustered the courage to speak, “Galinda, we don’t know anybody named Fiyero.”
xx
The sound of rushing water flooded the tunnels and Fiyero laughed, “Do you hear that? Do you hear?”
Fiyero ran ahead to the end of the tunnel, towards the source of the sound. Finally, something new. They were making progress. He wasn’t sure where the path would lead them but at least it was a new path, “Elphaba, come! I told you we were going to get out of here.”
Just as he had asked, she came, her steps wary rather than excited. She stayed a fair distance from the ledge, “This isn’t a way out. It’s a dead end.”
“No, no. Can’t you see? The water is moving that way. Water does not flow without reason. Our escape must be that way.” Fiyero looked along the water’s edge, “Look. Another walk. On the other side. We just have to cross.”
Elphaba shook her head, backing away, “I can’t. I- we have to find another way. There has to be another way.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a little bit of water. Surely you’re not afraid of water, after everything you’ve been through,” he chided.
“It’s not a ridiculous fear!” She snapped at him, the first real sign of anger that he’d ever seen from her. She unsnapped the jacket he’d given her in an exaggerated manner and turned away from him to expose her bare back. Scars splayed over her emerald flesh appearing as rain drops would upon pavement.
Fiyero stood, observing the marks. Finally he spoke, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“How could you?”
He looked to the path across the water. Their escape was so close, yet so very far- if it were even an escape, “It’s our only way out.”
“It’s your only way out,” she answered, staying back, “you can go. You should go.”
“Not without you,” he shook his head. Fiyero surveyed the water once again and then began to toe off his boots, “Here. Put these on. This too,” he added, pulling off his shirt. “We’ll cover you the best we can. You can stay on my shoulders. You’re light. We’ll get across.”
“No. No, I can’t. What happens if I fall in?” She protested, back against the wall, “Fiyero, if I fall in that water-“
It was the first time she had called him by name and it struck a chord with him. He held out his hand for hers, “I would never let you fall.”
She remained glued against the wall, eyes trained on the water.
“Elphaba,” he murmured gently, “please. Trust me.”
“With my life?”
“Haven’t you already?” Fiyero countered, nudging the boots toward her. He walked to the ledge, peering down into the water. There was only one way to gage the water’s depth, which he prayed was shallow. He glanced back at her for a brief moment before jumping into the water.
Elphaba ran to the ledge, eyes darting about for him. He quickly surfaced but she felt very little relief, if any at all. There was still the matter of getting across. The visceral memory of the last time water hit her flesh was far too recent.
“It’s not too deep,” he said, reaching out to her, “and it’s not wide. I’ll have you across in no time.”
“You swear?” She asked, tugging on the boots with shaking hands.
“I swear it,” Fiyero promised.
She tried to gauge how it would work, form a mental picture of how she could possibly cross the water without a drop touching her skin.
It simply wasn’t possible.
Fiyero turned to face away from her, “Take my hands first. Steady yourself and stand on my shoulders. One at a time. It will be difficult but we can do this.”
“We can’t,” she argued, voice wavering.
“We have to.”
Knowing that he was right, Elphaba reached out for his hands, gripping them tightly. She could already feel herself slipping and she hadn’t even taken the first step. Elphaba held her breath as if the current were already pulling her under and stepped one foot out and then the other.
Fiyero winced against the pain incurred by the heel of his boots digging into his flesh, “Are you okay?”
“No,” she answered honestly, “but I’m holding on. And you’re not going to let me fall.”
“I’m not going to let you fall,” he promised, suddenly not so sure of himself. He began to ford the waterway slowly, each step a miniature plea to the Unnamed God, to Lurline, to Ozma or whatever deity had the power to help him keep his promised.
It seemed as if no deity was interested in hearing his pleas that day. Something beneath his feet seemed to rise and bind his ankle, a weed growing under the water. He stumbled then, crying out her name and trying to push her in the direction of the path just a few feet from them.
Elphaba cried out as she fell towards the water and closed her eyes, bracing for the searing pain that would certainly be her end. This was most certainly a fate more cruel than the Philosophy Club. The pain never came, though. Instead, she felt cold beneath her cheek and though the fall smarted, it was a far cry from what she expected.
Fiyero resurfaced from his misstep, the underwater hazard gone. He spun around
wildly, “Elphaba!” he called out frantically, “Elphaba!”
“I’m here,” she answered in a trembling voice.
He stopped and turned in the direction of her voice and saw her sprawled across a thick sheet of ice, “How?”
Elphaba studied the ice beneath her and then her own hands.
“Never mind,” he said, “let’s just get out of here. Can you make it across from there?”
Without giving herself time to think, she plunged her hand forward to the narrowed waterway before her and ice formed where water had been before. She looked up at Fiyero in astonishment and then scrambled to her feet. The sooner she was off the water, the better, ice or not.
Fiyero pulled himself from the water and watched as the ice quickly dissipated in her absence. He was soaked but they were across and they were safe. Despite himself, he couldn’t resist asking, “Think you can manage a fire?”
He couldn’t be certain but he’d thought he’d seen her smile in response.
Characters: General Cast
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Implied non-con, captivity, physical abuse.
Summary: Based off of the Gregory Maguire Wicked Years, AU. The Philosophy Club is everything it's rumored to be; disgusting and filthy with unspeakable acts happening in every corner. What Fiyero Tigelaar didn't expect was to find an enchanting emerald woman locked away in the basement, a slave to the club's mysterious owners. Warnings for non-con, captivity, physical abuse, and language.
It was hard for Elphaba, trying to determine which fate was more terrifying. Certainly the life she’d been sentenced to in the Philosophy Club was not a life at all. She’d been abused for as long as she could remember, sold to the highest paying customer and forced to bend to their will. There were punishments, even when she did listen.
Indeed much of her life had been unspeakable.
However, it was what she knew, what she was used to.
Now she stood with a boy she did not know, in the dark and dank underground city he kept calling the Southstairs. The name made no sense to her as the word ‘stairs’ insinuated there were some form of escape. If she were to name it, she’d have called it purgatory for clearly, there was no way out.
The trapdoor to the Philosophy Club was far behind them, or at least they believed so. Every street looked like the next as they navigated through the darkness. When they came to what seemed to be the same intersection of tunnels for what had to be the fifth time, Elphaba finally stopped Fiyero.
“We’re going to die here, aren’t we?” It was less of a question, more of a statement.
“Nobody is dying,” he answered, frustrated, “we’ll get out of here. We just have to find the way out. That’s all.”
Elphaba looked around them, trying to find something, anything, that was different from what they’d seen before, “You should have left me there.”
Fiyero recoiled slightly, tension mounting through his frustration, “You’re welcome.”
“I’m simply saying that we’re lost. We’re in a place that neither one of us are going to get out of and for what?” she asked, “What’s the point?”
“Your freedom?”
“This isn’t freedom. This is just an earlier grave. For both of us. You had a life, presumably, and now you’ve wasted it on me, on somebody you don’t even know. It’s not worth it.”
He studied her as best he could through the dim light, trying to remind himself of what she’d been through. Fiyero couldn’t even to begin to imagine the horrors of her life, “Elphaba. I-I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I saw you and I knew that I had to get you out of that place. I don’t know why and I don’t know what it means but it was something I had to do. So just stop. Stop saying that you’re not worth it because however long or short my life may be, you are my fate.”
Whatever that meant, Fiyero thought to himself. He could remember so little of the maps and of the short amount of planning he’d done but he could still remember Yackle’s words clearly.
Elphaba had no response for his words. What could she say to him? She flinched when she felt his fingers wrap around her wrist and she quickly pulled her arms away, “Don’t touch me.” She paused a second and then added, “Please.”
He nodded slightly, mentally chiding himself for doing so. He’d been around her long enough to know that she was skittish when it came to physical contact and rightfully so. It was highly unlikely that anyone had ever touched her with innocent intention, “We’ll go this way.”
Resigning to the fact that the fool wasn’t going to give up, Elphaba followed behind him quietly. She was powerless to do anything else.
xx
“Until this morning,” Galinda pronounced amongst her peers, “I don’t believe I’ve ever truly had a throbbing headache.”
Avaric tried to laugh off the comment as if he had been immune to the effects of the prior evening’s debauchery but he couldn’t muster the energy, “We need to find a new place to enjoy an evening out.”
The collective grumbled in agreement, trying to pull themselves together. Tibbett and Crope were in various stages of undress, tangled in each other’s limbs and Pfannee eyed them warily, “Does anybody actually remember what happened last night?”
Galinda couldn’t even shake her head to answer. She’d never quite had a headache like this one. Her eyes lifted to the group and she tried to assess the situation as best she could. After a brief moment of surveying their group she sat up straighter, “Where’s Fiyero?”
Boq looked up at Galinda in confusion, “What’s a Fiyero?”
“Come now, Boq. I know that you didn’t indulge in that much alcohol last night,” she paused, “as a matter of fact, I know you didn’t. You were practically perched on my shoulder.”
“And he still didn’t get lucky,” quipped Avaric in a tone that was a far cry from his typical brand of arrogance.
Galinda shot a look at Avaric, “I’m being serious. We’re missing one of our own. Where is Fiyero? Has anybody seen him since we were at the club.”
The rest of the group shared a silent exchange of glances before Avaric finally spoke up, “Galinda, maybe we need to get you back to the university.”
“I’m not going anywhere until somebody answers me,” she refuted, doing her best to appear as if she would not be moved by words or force.
After another period of awkward silence, Boq was the one who finally mustered the courage to speak, “Galinda, we don’t know anybody named Fiyero.”
xx
The sound of rushing water flooded the tunnels and Fiyero laughed, “Do you hear that? Do you hear?”
Fiyero ran ahead to the end of the tunnel, towards the source of the sound. Finally, something new. They were making progress. He wasn’t sure where the path would lead them but at least it was a new path, “Elphaba, come! I told you we were going to get out of here.”
Just as he had asked, she came, her steps wary rather than excited. She stayed a fair distance from the ledge, “This isn’t a way out. It’s a dead end.”
“No, no. Can’t you see? The water is moving that way. Water does not flow without reason. Our escape must be that way.” Fiyero looked along the water’s edge, “Look. Another walk. On the other side. We just have to cross.”
Elphaba shook her head, backing away, “I can’t. I- we have to find another way. There has to be another way.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a little bit of water. Surely you’re not afraid of water, after everything you’ve been through,” he chided.
“It’s not a ridiculous fear!” She snapped at him, the first real sign of anger that he’d ever seen from her. She unsnapped the jacket he’d given her in an exaggerated manner and turned away from him to expose her bare back. Scars splayed over her emerald flesh appearing as rain drops would upon pavement.
Fiyero stood, observing the marks. Finally he spoke, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“How could you?”
He looked to the path across the water. Their escape was so close, yet so very far- if it were even an escape, “It’s our only way out.”
“It’s your only way out,” she answered, staying back, “you can go. You should go.”
“Not without you,” he shook his head. Fiyero surveyed the water once again and then began to toe off his boots, “Here. Put these on. This too,” he added, pulling off his shirt. “We’ll cover you the best we can. You can stay on my shoulders. You’re light. We’ll get across.”
“No. No, I can’t. What happens if I fall in?” She protested, back against the wall, “Fiyero, if I fall in that water-“
It was the first time she had called him by name and it struck a chord with him. He held out his hand for hers, “I would never let you fall.”
She remained glued against the wall, eyes trained on the water.
“Elphaba,” he murmured gently, “please. Trust me.”
“With my life?”
“Haven’t you already?” Fiyero countered, nudging the boots toward her. He walked to the ledge, peering down into the water. There was only one way to gage the water’s depth, which he prayed was shallow. He glanced back at her for a brief moment before jumping into the water.
Elphaba ran to the ledge, eyes darting about for him. He quickly surfaced but she felt very little relief, if any at all. There was still the matter of getting across. The visceral memory of the last time water hit her flesh was far too recent.
“It’s not too deep,” he said, reaching out to her, “and it’s not wide. I’ll have you across in no time.”
“You swear?” She asked, tugging on the boots with shaking hands.
“I swear it,” Fiyero promised.
She tried to gauge how it would work, form a mental picture of how she could possibly cross the water without a drop touching her skin.
It simply wasn’t possible.
Fiyero turned to face away from her, “Take my hands first. Steady yourself and stand on my shoulders. One at a time. It will be difficult but we can do this.”
“We can’t,” she argued, voice wavering.
“We have to.”
Knowing that he was right, Elphaba reached out for his hands, gripping them tightly. She could already feel herself slipping and she hadn’t even taken the first step. Elphaba held her breath as if the current were already pulling her under and stepped one foot out and then the other.
Fiyero winced against the pain incurred by the heel of his boots digging into his flesh, “Are you okay?”
“No,” she answered honestly, “but I’m holding on. And you’re not going to let me fall.”
“I’m not going to let you fall,” he promised, suddenly not so sure of himself. He began to ford the waterway slowly, each step a miniature plea to the Unnamed God, to Lurline, to Ozma or whatever deity had the power to help him keep his promised.
It seemed as if no deity was interested in hearing his pleas that day. Something beneath his feet seemed to rise and bind his ankle, a weed growing under the water. He stumbled then, crying out her name and trying to push her in the direction of the path just a few feet from them.
Elphaba cried out as she fell towards the water and closed her eyes, bracing for the searing pain that would certainly be her end. This was most certainly a fate more cruel than the Philosophy Club. The pain never came, though. Instead, she felt cold beneath her cheek and though the fall smarted, it was a far cry from what she expected.
Fiyero resurfaced from his misstep, the underwater hazard gone. He spun around
wildly, “Elphaba!” he called out frantically, “Elphaba!”
“I’m here,” she answered in a trembling voice.
He stopped and turned in the direction of her voice and saw her sprawled across a thick sheet of ice, “How?”
Elphaba studied the ice beneath her and then her own hands.
“Never mind,” he said, “let’s just get out of here. Can you make it across from there?”
Without giving herself time to think, she plunged her hand forward to the narrowed waterway before her and ice formed where water had been before. She looked up at Fiyero in astonishment and then scrambled to her feet. The sooner she was off the water, the better, ice or not.
Fiyero pulled himself from the water and watched as the ice quickly dissipated in her absence. He was soaked but they were across and they were safe. Despite himself, he couldn’t resist asking, “Think you can manage a fire?”
He couldn’t be certain but he’d thought he’d seen her smile in response.