Emerald Limelight by Lumiére & Callita. PG-13 6/?
Title: Emerald Limelight 6/?
Authors: Lumiére and Callita
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Idina/Kristin, Elphaba/Glinda (& more)
Summary: Plans are underway to restore memories. If only amnesia were the problem.
Disclaimer: This is an entirely non-profit work of fiction. We do not claim ownership of the world or any of the characters we write about. They are either real people, or are fictional characters belonging to Gregory Maguire and the copyright holders of the Wicked musical.
Wordcount: 5, 466
Chapter 1
Chapter 2, Part 1
Chapter 2, Part 2
Chapter 3, Part 1
======================================================
Chapter 3, part 2
Broadway
This time when she had awoken, the experience was slightly less surreal. After a moment of confusion on opening her eyes, she knew where she was and what to expect. The bed was still luxurious, affording her more hours of sleep than she would ever have hoped to achieve... at home, if she were so inclined. Now Elphaba had her own underwear, too, and the new face wasn't quite so alarming. She moved through the apartment after a variation of her morning ritual - a hesitant shower, rather than the oils for when her skin was green and reactive; donning clothes (luckily she found another skirt, not quite ready for the trousers) and combing her hair. She had sat at the mirrored desk, with the make up bag opened and on its side with its contents strewn about haphazardly. It was a little similar to Glinda's. She could see the girl rifling through it as clearly as though she were in the mirror. She would be reading, flipping through a fashion book, then plunk it down and rise. She would nibble her lower lip or raise a hand to her cheek, before locating her little white bag and settling to 'retouch' her make up. Maybe this Idina did that too. Elphaba looked up at her reflection again; at the pale skin, the pink lips, the green eyes, the slight smattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose and cheeks. Should she... do the same? As she had seen Glinda do? Or... the other society girls, when she had stumbled upon them when entering a bathroom with mirrors?
The brows furrowed into a frown as she reached a hand out, picking up a dark tube with faded lettering. It felt foreign to her. The very concept. She wouldn't even consider doing this at home; so why now? A new body... but her mind was the same, she supposed. Somehow.
The shrill ringing of the mechanical contraption across the living space had Elphaba jumping to her feet out of shock and panic. It was alarming to her, though she knew what it was. She dashed to it, much as she had done the day before, and quickly lifted the part meant for listening. “Hello?” she said.
“Dee! Jesus, I've been worried! How are you, baby? You okay? I heard the news from Kris yesterday. But you know how it is. Shooting in London - couldn't get away, y'know?”
A male voice. Elphaba knew that much, but exactly who she was speaking to, she couldn't even begin to guess. She remembered a man with her and Kristin the day before. Maybe it was him - no, no, this one said he was in... Lahn-din? Elphaba took a moment, eyeing the kitchen around her. Clues. Clues. The notice board with a multitude of oddly clear and coloured daguerreotypes. At least, she assumed they were. Could the man be in one of the pictures?
“Dee, baby?”
“Ah...”
“Shit, the amnesia. I forgot.” The man chuckled quietly, though didn't seem particularly humoured when doing it. “Christ. I should be there with you.”
“Who are you?”
“Taye. Taye, your husband.”
Elphaba nearly dropped the phone. A husband. She had a husband?! No. No. Idina had a husband. With the cover of amnesia, she owed this man nothing.
“Do you remember me, honey?”
“I can't say I do.”
There was silence and Elphaba heard children talking as they passed by in the hallway. They sounded serious; more mature in demeanour than the timbre of their voices really permitted. Again, she wondered at the strange place she had found herself in.
“You speak different, you know.”
“I do?” Already Elphaba was growing distracted. Her ear was heating up, and she felt foolish speaking with only herself in the room and holding a piece of plastic to her head, Which in turn whispered to her.
“You sound... kinda British.”
“How odd.”
“Uh... you doing that on purpose, baby?”
Elphaba's stomach grumbled, and she rubbed it with her free hand. She was hungry again. More carrots and cheese? “Yes, husband. I am. I exist only to amuse you.”
Immediate laughter that was too loud in Elphaba's ear, and she scowled, leaning away. “You're funny, Dee. You are.”
“I'm busy.”
“But, don't you-?”
“No. Goodbye.” The receiver clicked on its return to its cradle and Elphaba quickly turned, intent on breakfast. She found this body grew hungry more often.
By the end of the day, when the living space had grown dark, and Elphaba had switched the lights on, like how she had seen Kristin do, she settled on the settee, facing a large black oblong with a glass screen. She ignored it, and instead perused the glossy paper in her hands. More colourful and clear than anything she would have imagined being held in her hands, aside from a painting. But this was not a painting - this much she knew. It couldn't have been a daguerreotype either. It said Wicked, in oversized white letters, and had the picture of a vaguely plump faced woman painted green, and smirking, while another in white whispered to her. Supposedly they were she and Glinda.
Elphaba would have laughed if she wasn't so disturbed.
In the Gershwin, Kristin had been leaning into the vanity mirror, checking her teeth for traces of her recent spinach salad lunch. Whilst running her tongue over a particular incisor, her dressing room door flew open, clattering loudly against the perpendicular wall. But despite the loud noise, she calmly continued her inspection before uttering, “Hey, Michelle.”
The response was swift as the brunette threw herself onto Kristin's couch. “Hey Chenocakes,” and she crossed her legs and folded her arms behind her head, watching the inspection. “Nothing there. There never is.”
“It never hurts to check.”
“Unless, y'know, it turns into a nervous tick and you pull those faces every time you pass a reflective surface.” Michelle grinned when Kristin turned, sighing in defeat. “Really. You have nothing stuck in your teeth.”
“Thank you.”
Michelle shrugged, “Not a problem,” then eyed the dressing room, nibbling on her lower lip. The silence stretched on, and Kristin settled in her vanity chair, flipping through a vacuous magazine she had found strewn there this morning. By whom, she hadn't a clue; but she was curious.
“It's weird,” Michelle said, yawning. “Not having Dee around.”
“Yeah,” Kristin agreed, stilling her perusing.
“And you two were so close before. This must be killing you.”
Kristin looked up, searchingly; perhaps to see some semblance of a mean smile on Michelle's face. But the woman, though often loud and cruelly humoured, was not cruel per se. She was being genuine. A soft smile on her lips. One of sympathy. “Yeah,” Kristin eventually agreed. But it was a double edged sword - a blessing, really, considering the events the night before the accident. If only Idina's memory could be regained, aside from that one night, and possibly the accident too. It had to have been traumatic.
“But Eden's doing surprisingly well.” Michelle had slid her gaze to the low ceiling. “She's not that sick before performances any more.”
“I'm glad.”
“Yeah.”
“And she seems - y'know... happy for the chance...”
Kristin nodded.
“But we - I...” Michelle faltered, “I guess...” She repositioned herself, so she was sat up, hands folded on her lap, wringing themselves anxiously. “I guess I miss her. Eden does too, I think. I mean,” she looked up at Kristin, “We all do, don't we?” Kristin slowly nodded, looking glum, and Michelle shook her head. “But it's not like she's gone. She's still here,” Michelle continued, “She's still Dee, I guess. But the amnesia - there's something about it... and...”
“She doesn't seem like her.”
Michelle nodded. “I've only spoken to her once since seeing her at the hospital, but...”
“Yeah.”
“Y'know?”
“Yeah.”
“And it's... kinda sad.”
Kristin nodded, feeling even more anxious than before. The two of them, always so exuberant; never holding back - and now look at them. The Gershwin was a changed place without Idina. Not only did Wicked need her; they all did.
Apparently Michelle felt the same. She brightened up as idea struck. “We should kickstart her memory. Show her a good time, with friends, and she'll... remember more.”
Kristin looked dubious.
“Come on! It'll be fun, and we've barely seen Dee. We all miss her...”
“Her ribs, sweetie. She can't...”
“Then we'll see how she is. If she's healing nicely, then we can take her for a place not too crowded, and we can hold back on the dirty dancing. Give her a little space.”
“No more dirty dancing?” Eden asked from the open doorway, stepping in. “None at all?”
“With you, chihuahua, always,” Michelle growled with a matching leer. “We're talking Dee. Being gentle.” She turned to Kristin, who still looked unconvinced. “We're her friends. If we all go out, we can all look out for her, and nothing can go wrong. No point having Dee holed up in her apartment with nothing but photos and shit coffee to get her memory back on track.” She laughed, “When I went round, that 'cappuccino' gave me amnesia and the shits for three days. We gotta save her.”
Eden nodded.
Kristin half groaned and half conceded with a drawn out, “Yeah,” then settled on, “Okay, I guess. We'll give her a few more days.”
“Great!” Michelle sprang up from the sofa, determined and with a sudden rosiness to her cheeks. “Uh... Eden?” she said, noticing for the first time, that Eden's arms were full. “What are you...?”
“I tore it!” Eden squealed, her eyes wide.
“What?” Kristin swivelled round, her eyes travelling to the mass of black distressed material.
“Tore your act 2 dress?” Michelle snorted.
“Oh God, matinee's soon, and Susan's going to kill me!”
“Sweetie, you have a second one,” Kristin said. “Just give that one to her so she can fix it.”
Eden nodded jerkily, shuffling back. “If I don't come back... y-you'll know she's... killed me,” she mumbled, then scurried off.
“Poor Eden,” Kristin sighed.
“Poor chihuahua,” Michelle agreed.
* * *
Shiz
They had been dismissed early. Their superstitious lecturer thinking the airborne leaf attaching itself to the window an omen, and, seemingly glad of the situation, Glinda had guided Idina back to their room with suspicious haste. Obviously preferring secrecy over attempting to explain away the time she was spending with her outcast roommate. She hadn't said a word, just took hurried steps and quickly locked their door once inside. If not for the tight grasp on her hand, Idina was sure she would have fallen behind and found herself lost.
“Come on, I'm going to help you.” Glinda stooped at the cluttered desk, rummaging almost clumsily as books toppled from their precarious piles. “We need to get you back on track.” She extracted one, crinkled her nose as she peered at it, then seemingly satisfied she motioned for Idina to sit on Elphaba's bed. Not a moment later, she then dropped beside her, immediately flicking through the dusty book.
“What's up?” Idina queried, eyeing the haste in which those pages were turning, in danger of ripping.
“Up?” Glinda muttered, “The opposite of down, I should say.”
“That's not-”
“-Could you not just get your memory back?” the abusing of the book came to a halt as Glinda sighed at her, frowning. “If you tried really hard, maybe it would come back. Because, really, Elphie, this is quite hard. I may be getting frown lines over this.” She then became aware of the frown and hurriedly reached to smooth the already smooth skin of her brow. “Honestly.”
“Um...”
“Well here it is. Or one of them.” She pulled the book across their laps and Glinda pointed to one of its pages. “A spell. A levitation spell.”
“Why are you showing me this?”
“If anything is going to jog your memory, it's sorcery.”
“I... don't think I can do this.”
“You do spells. It's what you do. That and Animal Rights,” Glinda explained irritatedly, “but of course, I haven't the slightest clue of which Rights and which Animals go together - it's all very confusing - so I'm helping you with this, alright? Because, heavens! You need your memory back, Elphie! If you would just try at least!” Glinda prodded the page, “So, read this.”
“I'm sorry. But I am trying,” Idina whispered. “I want things back to normal just as much as you.”
“And yet there is no marked difference.” Glinda motioned at the book again and Idina had to acquiesce. Glinda's determination was an odd sort of surprise. She stared at the dusty pages in front of her, seeing words that made absolutely no sense. Not even a language, it seemed, just random syllables wedged haphazardly side by side. She had even been taught Hebrew, which tended to lack vowels, but... this was altogether different. “It's been four days.”
“Exactly.”
Idina closed her eyes, trying to school the rising panic. “I can't...”
“Just try! Elphie, please!”
“Fine. Fine.” Idina refocused her attention on the book. At the nonsense words. She felt as if she were learning to read again - something that had not come easily the first time, in either language, much to her mother's chagrin.
“Out loud,” Glinda instructed, rising from the bed, and retrieving a quill from the desk. “Magick this.”
Idina gave a twitch in attempt of nodding, then haltingly began, immediately feeling incredibly stupid. She had only been stuttering for a few seconds until Glinda stopped her with a hand delicately placed on her arm. The quill remaining frustratingly still. “Useless,” Idina said, inexplicably upset. Much as she had been at the age of four. But how could this be so hard? “Damn it.” How can this be so different from Schwartz' version!
“We just need to work on this,” Glinda whispered, and reached for the book, her eyes scanning the text as if trying to see it differently. “It's only a simple spell.”
“Well, that's great. I'm retarded, see? I can't do this! Whatever El-I had, is gone now!” A green hand rose to Elphaba's eyes as they threatened to water. “Christ! I... this...”
“Elphie. Elphie, do calm down.” Glinda slowly removed the hand, looking into dark upset eyes. “We'll work on it. I'm sure this is all sorcery. Your amnesia-”
“...amesia. Right,” Idina mumbled. She sniffled as Glinda stroked her cheek with a feather-light touch. Surprisingly affectionate.
“Oh!” Glinda all but shrieked, startling Idina, and erupted from the bed. “Well I have to go. My friends are expecting me. Another lunch date. I'm sure it's just about lunchtime now.” Her hands were already about her hair, no doubt looking for any fly away curls as she strode toward the wardrobe.
“You're leaving again?”
“Yes, but not for long.” She retrieved a silky shawl and directed a smile at Idina. “I'll see you just before the end. I should - yes, I should show you to your next lecture. Well, goodbye. Have to go. Mustn't keep them waiting, Elphie.” And she quickly opened the door, hurried through it, and shut it just as quickly.
With a groan, Idina fell back to the bed, staring at the ceiling. “God help me. Whatever God is here.” She crossed her legs, then winced at the sensation.
Damn teenage hormones.
As if they weren't bad enough the first time round.
* * *
Broadway
When the high-pitched ring startled Elphaba from the book she’d been reading (‘Ask The Dust’ said the cover - she’d found it on Idina’s shelf, but was failing to get into it), she at first thought it was the telephone again. She winced, fearing a conversation similar to the one she had with the man who, apparently, was her husband; but unlike the phone, the noise stopped after half a second, leaving Elphaba with no idea as to its cause. This apartment was far too full of strange technology, she decided, going back to the book, only to be disturbed again at the sound of a key turning and her front door opening.
“Dee, honey? You there?” That was Kristin’s voice. Then “Who the hell tidied up in here? I have never seen Dee’s place looking like this - look Eden! Carpet!” That was the loud woman who had called her the other day. Elphaba blinked as Kristin appeared through the doorway, flanked by two women she vaguely remembered from the hospital. One of them - Michelle, she guessed - was grinning manically, while the other (Eden…the woman Kristin had said was playing ‘Elphaba’ now?) seemed to be holding her back from bounding into the living room.
“What’re you doing here?” she asked, more than a little confused. “And how did you get in?”
“I took your spare key, remember sweetie?” said Kristin, coming in to sit down next to her on the sofa. “How’re you feeling?”
“I’m alright…” She didn’t get a chance to say any more before Michelle cut in, settling herself on Elphaba’s other side.
“See Kristin? I told you she’d be fine!” She grinned proudly at Elphaba. “This was all my idea.”
“What was?”
“What Michelle means,” Eden said, still hanging back awkwardly by the door, “is that we’re here to take you out. If you’re feeling okay, that is. If you’re ribs are hurting too much, or you’re tired, don’t worry about it, right? Right Michelle?”
“Yes,” said Michelle solemnly. “If you don’t feel up to it, I promise, as your favourite little sister, I will not force you to go.” She smiled again. “But if you do come, I can guarantee you a great - but quiet!” she amended, catching Kristin’s expression “- night out.”
There it was again, that reference to Michelle playing her sister. Staring at the woman in front of her, wild-eyed and laughing, wearing a rather revealing scarlet shirt, Elphaba was having difficulty imagining anyone less like Nessarose. Not to mention her features and skin tone being all wrong. If anything, Eden would probably be better suited. She seemed to be emphasising that this had all been Michelle’s idea, almost as if she felt uncomfortable or embarrassed around the other woman. It reminded Elphaba of Nessarose’s shame at having her as a sister, just not nearly so obvious. There was definitely some tension between them though. Elphaba was still intrigued at the idea of people acting out her story, and coming face to face with the woman who was apparently playing her was more than a little jarring. Eden also gave the impression of being an outsider, but, as far as Elphaba could tell, that was where the resemblance ended.
She didn’t really want to go out with these people - she didn’t like nights out at the best of times, and this would give her far too many opportunities to slip up - but being stuck in the apartment on her own for days on end wasn’t particularly appealing either, especially if people kept phoning, expecting to speak to Idina.
“I’ll come,” she said decisively. Michelle looked triumphant, whereas Kristin still seemed concerned.
“Are you sure? You’re not in too much pain?”
“No, it’s alright. I’ve been taking the medication like you told me. I’ll be fine.”
“Great!” Michelle jumped up, grabbing her hands and pulling Elphaba up with her. “You just go change and we can go.”
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Elphaba asked, staring down at her long skirt and blouse. She panicked, suddenly. They couldn’t make her wear trousers, not out in public!
“Nothing,” said Kristin hurriedly, shooting warning looks at Michelle. “You look great. The taxi should still be waiting, if he listened to what I told him anyway. You go on with Eden and Michelle. I’ll lock up.”
“Here we go. One margarita, one white wine spritzer, one tequila sunrise, and an orange juice,” Eden set the drinks down on the table. “You okay Dee?”
Strangely enough, Elphaba actually felt better than she’d expected. It was a sweet little bar, close enough to the Broadway district that it seemed where most actors went to relax after shows. The music was lively but not ear-blasting, and there was even an area of floor cleared for dancing, though both Eden and Kristin had assured her that dancing was thoroughly off the agenda for the evening.
“I’m feeling a lot better. Thank you. For... taking me out. And to Eden, as well for, well, this.” She gestured to her face and hair, which Eden had helped make up for her in the taxi. (Michelle had tried at first, but Eden had pushed her away, remarking that she didn’t want Idina looking like a crazed diva on crack. Kristin had smiled, but had kept her distance.) It wasn’t anything special, just a smudge of a pencil type thing along the lids of her eyes, a brush of powder on her cheeks and some gloss on her lips, but what with that and her hair tied up, Elphaba was amazed at the result. Was it really that simple? Was that all Glinda and her friends did to make themselves look so perfect each day? If so, why was it so time-consuming for them? Or was Eden just unnaturally quick? Eden smiled kindly at her.
“No problem. It’ll be easier to get off than the green, at any rate.”
“You poor green girls, you think you have it so hard,” Michelle pouted. “Try spending half the show in a chair designed by some sadist, controlling the whole thing with the back of your heel, so you come off stage in total agony every night. None of you could handle it, I’m telling you.” Eden started to challenge but Michelle held up her hand. “Not even you, chiquita. Screw understudying, you don’t have what it takes to be a true Nessa.”
“Maybe not, but you’re not the only one who knows about pain in the name of The Show,” countered Kristin, sipping her wine. “Try the Glinda Heels Of Doom. And let’s not forget the bubble, people. Have you any idea just how high above the stage it is? And I have to sing opera from up there.”
“Don’t get started on singing from a height, Miss Bubble. Have you ever tried going up in the cherry picker? It may not be as high, but it’s utterly disorienting. And it’s the climax of the show, you can’t exactly hesitate to get your bearings, right Dee?”
“What? Oh, yes.” Elphaba had no idea what they were talking about. Eden looked at her oddly, but Michelle snorted.
“Looks like Dee can handle it fine. Just you then, Espinosa.”
“I swear I told you not to call me by my surname.”
“Sure thing, chihuahua.” Elphaba had no idea what a ‘chihuahua’ was - it sounded vaguely like a name for the latest brand of under-bust corsets, or something similar - but Michelle’s tone had seemed light and humorous. Eden, however, was glaring at her.
“I have a name,” she said sharply. Michelle merely grinned.
“Just shut up and drink your tequila like a good little girl, chica.”
“Eden!”
“No, I’m Michelle, remember?” Michelle turned to Elphaba. “I think she’s losing it. Must be the strain of being on Broadway. Poor girl, she can’t take the greenness of it all. You should get a move on and get back on stage, if only to save our poor little Spanish flower from a nervous breakdown.”
“We said we weren’t going to do that,” Kristin cut in. “No pressuring Idina. She has enough to cope with without you trying to force her back when she’s not ready.” Kristin looked uncomfortable, as if Idina not being on stage was already causing her problems. She turned to Elphaba. “It’s okay honey, there’s no pressure.”
“Let’s get her drunk!” Michelle suggested suddenly, downing the rest of her margarita.
“Let’s not,” said Elphaba quickly. Alcohol did not agree with her at the best of times. She thought quickly. “My medication. I can’t.”
“Mm, good one,” Michelle replied thoughtfully. “Wouldn’t want you to OD and die on us now. Still, if you’re stoned, that’s almost as good.”
“Excuse me? Are you Idina Menzel?”
Elphaba was saved from Michelle’s next great idea by the young woman who had approached them. She looked about eighteen, with blonde hair in a high-ponytail and a t-shirt which read “Defying Gravity” in green letters. Elphaba stared at her.
“Uh, yes, I am. And you are?”
“Oh my god! It’s Idina Menzel! Katie, Emma, get over here!” The girl was gazing at them with awe, and was quickly joined by two friends. “And you’re Kristin Chenoweth, aren’t you?” Kristin nodded, smiling. “Wow, I can’t believe this! I’ve seen Wicked like, a million times. I love you guys. You are such an amazing singer! Is it scary, going up in that bubble?”
“You get used to it,” Kristin said modestly.
“And you’re…?” The woman was looking at the others on the table.
“Michelle Federer,” Michelle said, beaming. Then, when the girl obviously failed to comprehend, “Nessarose.” She poked Eden. “And this is the Elphaba standby.”
“Thanks Michelle.” Eden glared at her.
“Oh, okay, cool.” She turned back to Kristin. “Hey, can I have your autograph? My name’s Laura.”
“Sure sweetie.” Kristin seemed perfectly at ease with the fans. “You know, my standby’s name is Laura.”
“Laura Bell Bundy, I know,” Laura replied eagerly. “I saw her last month when you were off. She’s great, but not as good as you.”
“She knows Laura Bell Bundy but she doesn’t know me?” Michelle hissed to Eden. Eden shot her a superior smile.
“No sympathy Michelle. Not after the standby comment. None at all.”
Kristin had signed To Laura, glad you liked the show, love Kristin in cute curly handwriting on a napkin. The girl was almost glowing. She thanked Kristin, then turned to Idina.
“Would you?” she asked, in a way that was so utterly pathetic Elphaba could only blink at her. This woman wanted her signature on a bit of paper, because she was on stage? It was laughable. The other two girls were also clustered around her, grasping pens and napkins of their own, with outrageously hopeful expressions on their faces. But Kristin had been completely unfazed, and it struck Elphaba that maybe this was normal in this strange world.
“Uhm, sure,” she said, picking up Kristin’s pen. How did you spell ‘Idina Menzel’? Come to that, how did Idina write her name? It occurred to her that this alone might blow her cover. There was no way she could pull off someone else’s signature without having a clue what it looked like.
Then it hit her. These people were only interested in Idina because she played Elphaba on stage. Perhaps it wasn’t Idina they really wanted anyway. Perhaps it was more some strange admiration of the character - of, well, her.
Elphaba signed To Laura, I like your shirt, Elphaba in her usual spiky handwriting. (It was a good shirt, she had decided. ‘Defying Gravity’ sounded exciting.) She handed it back to the woman, whose eyes widened as she read it.
“Oh my god! I got an autograph from Elphaba!” The other two girls shoved napkins under Elphaba’s nose, and she repeated the message, filling in the names they gave her. Kristin glanced at what she’d written and smiled.
“That is so cute, Dee. And Laura, I can write you another one from Glinda as well, if you like.”
Laura nodded eagerly. One of her friends shyly offered her Elphaba-signed napkin to Michelle, who sighed witheringly.
“So now you care about me, huh? You have no clue who I am, do you?”
“You’re Nessarose. You get to zoom around in a wheelchair and make Elphaba turn Boq into the tin-man. You’re evil.”
“Damn right I am!” Michelle beamed, signing From evil wheelchair-crazed Nessarose. Eden muttered something about not encouraging them, but she was smiling.
“You don’t mind that they don’t want your autograph?” Elphaba asked, wondering if Eden was feeling left out. Eden shook her head.
“God no. I find the whole thing kinda weird anyway. What’s the point, to prove they’ve met me or something?” She laughed suddenly. “That said, I waited at the stage-door for hours to meet you after seeing Rent. You signed my programme for me. I’ll always remember that. So maybe I understand them a little.”
Elphaba blinked, completely lost and a little scared. But before she could ask what in Oz Eden was going on about, the fangirls were squealing at a man who had just entered the bar. From the way they flocked to him, she guessed he must be another member of this strange cast of players, and he certainly seemed as comfortable amongst them as Kristin had been. When the fans finally left, he was introduced to her by Kristin (“Of course, you probably don’t remember. This is Norbert, he plays Fiyero”), and insisted on buying them all another round of drinks. Since Elphaba had no idea who this ‘Fiyero’ character was, his presence disturbed her less than the others, and as they continued to chat about theatre and actors and stage gossip, she began to almost enjoy herself.
“Joel’s not going to be on tomorrow, just so you know,” Norbert was telling everyone. “Family thing.”
“Pity, I was hoping he’d be around add some semblance of sanity to these guys,” Kristin said, looking pointedly at Michelle, who was playing the rim of an empty wine glass with the tip of finger, producing an odd squeaking sound. She sighed and turned back to Elphaba. “Joel plays the Wizard.”
Elphaba gasped, choking on her orange juice so badly she couldn’t breathe for a second, coughing terribly as it trickled down her nose. Eden thumped her on the back and passed her the only unsigned napkin left.
“What?!” Elphaba demanded, when she could speak again some significant time later.
“She still has amnesia,” Kristin explained to Norbert, who looked shocked. “She doesn’t remember anything about the production. Dee, honey, it’s okay. You’ll get back into the swing of things. Hey, why don’t you come to the theatre tomorrow? I’m sure everyone would love to see you again. And maybe being back there will help kick-start your memory.”
Everyone nodded in agreement, shooting sympathetic smiles at her. Elphaba found herself conceding without really realising what she was saying. The Wizard? Surely not. It was one thing to be acting out the story of a couple of university students. But involving the Wizard changed things completely. It wasn’t just strange, it was downright dangerous. True, the Wizard stood for everything that was good in Oz, but portraying him in a play could not be sensible.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Elphaba knew that it wasn’t like that, not here. This was a different world, and things didn’t matter in the same way. Her and Glinda and Nessa, and maybe the Wizard too, were all just characters to these people, not real. And she couldn’t deny that she was more than a little curious about it all. Nanny would say that one could be curious about poisonous snakes, but that didn’t make examining them any safer. And Elphaba would retort that it was only through such examination that anything could be learnt about them, which would be essential in developing a cure. A scientific mind, Doctor Dillamond had told her, approvingly. So she would go to the theatre tomorrow, and see what in Oz they had done with her life.
With any luck, she might soon meet the Wizard.
======================================================
Authors: Lumiére and Callita
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Idina/Kristin, Elphaba/Glinda (& more)
Summary: Plans are underway to restore memories. If only amnesia were the problem.
Disclaimer: This is an entirely non-profit work of fiction. We do not claim ownership of the world or any of the characters we write about. They are either real people, or are fictional characters belonging to Gregory Maguire and the copyright holders of the Wicked musical.
Wordcount: 5, 466
Chapter 1
Chapter 2, Part 1
Chapter 2, Part 2
Chapter 3, Part 1
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Chapter 3, part 2
Broadway
This time when she had awoken, the experience was slightly less surreal. After a moment of confusion on opening her eyes, she knew where she was and what to expect. The bed was still luxurious, affording her more hours of sleep than she would ever have hoped to achieve... at home, if she were so inclined. Now Elphaba had her own underwear, too, and the new face wasn't quite so alarming. She moved through the apartment after a variation of her morning ritual - a hesitant shower, rather than the oils for when her skin was green and reactive; donning clothes (luckily she found another skirt, not quite ready for the trousers) and combing her hair. She had sat at the mirrored desk, with the make up bag opened and on its side with its contents strewn about haphazardly. It was a little similar to Glinda's. She could see the girl rifling through it as clearly as though she were in the mirror. She would be reading, flipping through a fashion book, then plunk it down and rise. She would nibble her lower lip or raise a hand to her cheek, before locating her little white bag and settling to 'retouch' her make up. Maybe this Idina did that too. Elphaba looked up at her reflection again; at the pale skin, the pink lips, the green eyes, the slight smattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose and cheeks. Should she... do the same? As she had seen Glinda do? Or... the other society girls, when she had stumbled upon them when entering a bathroom with mirrors?
The brows furrowed into a frown as she reached a hand out, picking up a dark tube with faded lettering. It felt foreign to her. The very concept. She wouldn't even consider doing this at home; so why now? A new body... but her mind was the same, she supposed. Somehow.
The shrill ringing of the mechanical contraption across the living space had Elphaba jumping to her feet out of shock and panic. It was alarming to her, though she knew what it was. She dashed to it, much as she had done the day before, and quickly lifted the part meant for listening. “Hello?” she said.
“Dee! Jesus, I've been worried! How are you, baby? You okay? I heard the news from Kris yesterday. But you know how it is. Shooting in London - couldn't get away, y'know?”
A male voice. Elphaba knew that much, but exactly who she was speaking to, she couldn't even begin to guess. She remembered a man with her and Kristin the day before. Maybe it was him - no, no, this one said he was in... Lahn-din? Elphaba took a moment, eyeing the kitchen around her. Clues. Clues. The notice board with a multitude of oddly clear and coloured daguerreotypes. At least, she assumed they were. Could the man be in one of the pictures?
“Dee, baby?”
“Ah...”
“Shit, the amnesia. I forgot.” The man chuckled quietly, though didn't seem particularly humoured when doing it. “Christ. I should be there with you.”
“Who are you?”
“Taye. Taye, your husband.”
Elphaba nearly dropped the phone. A husband. She had a husband?! No. No. Idina had a husband. With the cover of amnesia, she owed this man nothing.
“Do you remember me, honey?”
“I can't say I do.”
There was silence and Elphaba heard children talking as they passed by in the hallway. They sounded serious; more mature in demeanour than the timbre of their voices really permitted. Again, she wondered at the strange place she had found herself in.
“You speak different, you know.”
“I do?” Already Elphaba was growing distracted. Her ear was heating up, and she felt foolish speaking with only herself in the room and holding a piece of plastic to her head, Which in turn whispered to her.
“You sound... kinda British.”
“How odd.”
“Uh... you doing that on purpose, baby?”
Elphaba's stomach grumbled, and she rubbed it with her free hand. She was hungry again. More carrots and cheese? “Yes, husband. I am. I exist only to amuse you.”
Immediate laughter that was too loud in Elphaba's ear, and she scowled, leaning away. “You're funny, Dee. You are.”
“I'm busy.”
“But, don't you-?”
“No. Goodbye.” The receiver clicked on its return to its cradle and Elphaba quickly turned, intent on breakfast. She found this body grew hungry more often.
By the end of the day, when the living space had grown dark, and Elphaba had switched the lights on, like how she had seen Kristin do, she settled on the settee, facing a large black oblong with a glass screen. She ignored it, and instead perused the glossy paper in her hands. More colourful and clear than anything she would have imagined being held in her hands, aside from a painting. But this was not a painting - this much she knew. It couldn't have been a daguerreotype either. It said Wicked, in oversized white letters, and had the picture of a vaguely plump faced woman painted green, and smirking, while another in white whispered to her. Supposedly they were she and Glinda.
Elphaba would have laughed if she wasn't so disturbed.
In the Gershwin, Kristin had been leaning into the vanity mirror, checking her teeth for traces of her recent spinach salad lunch. Whilst running her tongue over a particular incisor, her dressing room door flew open, clattering loudly against the perpendicular wall. But despite the loud noise, she calmly continued her inspection before uttering, “Hey, Michelle.”
The response was swift as the brunette threw herself onto Kristin's couch. “Hey Chenocakes,” and she crossed her legs and folded her arms behind her head, watching the inspection. “Nothing there. There never is.”
“It never hurts to check.”
“Unless, y'know, it turns into a nervous tick and you pull those faces every time you pass a reflective surface.” Michelle grinned when Kristin turned, sighing in defeat. “Really. You have nothing stuck in your teeth.”
“Thank you.”
Michelle shrugged, “Not a problem,” then eyed the dressing room, nibbling on her lower lip. The silence stretched on, and Kristin settled in her vanity chair, flipping through a vacuous magazine she had found strewn there this morning. By whom, she hadn't a clue; but she was curious.
“It's weird,” Michelle said, yawning. “Not having Dee around.”
“Yeah,” Kristin agreed, stilling her perusing.
“And you two were so close before. This must be killing you.”
Kristin looked up, searchingly; perhaps to see some semblance of a mean smile on Michelle's face. But the woman, though often loud and cruelly humoured, was not cruel per se. She was being genuine. A soft smile on her lips. One of sympathy. “Yeah,” Kristin eventually agreed. But it was a double edged sword - a blessing, really, considering the events the night before the accident. If only Idina's memory could be regained, aside from that one night, and possibly the accident too. It had to have been traumatic.
“But Eden's doing surprisingly well.” Michelle had slid her gaze to the low ceiling. “She's not that sick before performances any more.”
“I'm glad.”
“Yeah.”
“And she seems - y'know... happy for the chance...”
Kristin nodded.
“But we - I...” Michelle faltered, “I guess...” She repositioned herself, so she was sat up, hands folded on her lap, wringing themselves anxiously. “I guess I miss her. Eden does too, I think. I mean,” she looked up at Kristin, “We all do, don't we?” Kristin slowly nodded, looking glum, and Michelle shook her head. “But it's not like she's gone. She's still here,” Michelle continued, “She's still Dee, I guess. But the amnesia - there's something about it... and...”
“She doesn't seem like her.”
Michelle nodded. “I've only spoken to her once since seeing her at the hospital, but...”
“Yeah.”
“Y'know?”
“Yeah.”
“And it's... kinda sad.”
Kristin nodded, feeling even more anxious than before. The two of them, always so exuberant; never holding back - and now look at them. The Gershwin was a changed place without Idina. Not only did Wicked need her; they all did.
Apparently Michelle felt the same. She brightened up as idea struck. “We should kickstart her memory. Show her a good time, with friends, and she'll... remember more.”
Kristin looked dubious.
“Come on! It'll be fun, and we've barely seen Dee. We all miss her...”
“Her ribs, sweetie. She can't...”
“Then we'll see how she is. If she's healing nicely, then we can take her for a place not too crowded, and we can hold back on the dirty dancing. Give her a little space.”
“No more dirty dancing?” Eden asked from the open doorway, stepping in. “None at all?”
“With you, chihuahua, always,” Michelle growled with a matching leer. “We're talking Dee. Being gentle.” She turned to Kristin, who still looked unconvinced. “We're her friends. If we all go out, we can all look out for her, and nothing can go wrong. No point having Dee holed up in her apartment with nothing but photos and shit coffee to get her memory back on track.” She laughed, “When I went round, that 'cappuccino' gave me amnesia and the shits for three days. We gotta save her.”
Eden nodded.
Kristin half groaned and half conceded with a drawn out, “Yeah,” then settled on, “Okay, I guess. We'll give her a few more days.”
“Great!” Michelle sprang up from the sofa, determined and with a sudden rosiness to her cheeks. “Uh... Eden?” she said, noticing for the first time, that Eden's arms were full. “What are you...?”
“I tore it!” Eden squealed, her eyes wide.
“What?” Kristin swivelled round, her eyes travelling to the mass of black distressed material.
“Tore your act 2 dress?” Michelle snorted.
“Oh God, matinee's soon, and Susan's going to kill me!”
“Sweetie, you have a second one,” Kristin said. “Just give that one to her so she can fix it.”
Eden nodded jerkily, shuffling back. “If I don't come back... y-you'll know she's... killed me,” she mumbled, then scurried off.
“Poor Eden,” Kristin sighed.
“Poor chihuahua,” Michelle agreed.
* * *
Shiz
They had been dismissed early. Their superstitious lecturer thinking the airborne leaf attaching itself to the window an omen, and, seemingly glad of the situation, Glinda had guided Idina back to their room with suspicious haste. Obviously preferring secrecy over attempting to explain away the time she was spending with her outcast roommate. She hadn't said a word, just took hurried steps and quickly locked their door once inside. If not for the tight grasp on her hand, Idina was sure she would have fallen behind and found herself lost.
“Come on, I'm going to help you.” Glinda stooped at the cluttered desk, rummaging almost clumsily as books toppled from their precarious piles. “We need to get you back on track.” She extracted one, crinkled her nose as she peered at it, then seemingly satisfied she motioned for Idina to sit on Elphaba's bed. Not a moment later, she then dropped beside her, immediately flicking through the dusty book.
“What's up?” Idina queried, eyeing the haste in which those pages were turning, in danger of ripping.
“Up?” Glinda muttered, “The opposite of down, I should say.”
“That's not-”
“-Could you not just get your memory back?” the abusing of the book came to a halt as Glinda sighed at her, frowning. “If you tried really hard, maybe it would come back. Because, really, Elphie, this is quite hard. I may be getting frown lines over this.” She then became aware of the frown and hurriedly reached to smooth the already smooth skin of her brow. “Honestly.”
“Um...”
“Well here it is. Or one of them.” She pulled the book across their laps and Glinda pointed to one of its pages. “A spell. A levitation spell.”
“Why are you showing me this?”
“If anything is going to jog your memory, it's sorcery.”
“I... don't think I can do this.”
“You do spells. It's what you do. That and Animal Rights,” Glinda explained irritatedly, “but of course, I haven't the slightest clue of which Rights and which Animals go together - it's all very confusing - so I'm helping you with this, alright? Because, heavens! You need your memory back, Elphie! If you would just try at least!” Glinda prodded the page, “So, read this.”
“I'm sorry. But I am trying,” Idina whispered. “I want things back to normal just as much as you.”
“And yet there is no marked difference.” Glinda motioned at the book again and Idina had to acquiesce. Glinda's determination was an odd sort of surprise. She stared at the dusty pages in front of her, seeing words that made absolutely no sense. Not even a language, it seemed, just random syllables wedged haphazardly side by side. She had even been taught Hebrew, which tended to lack vowels, but... this was altogether different. “It's been four days.”
“Exactly.”
Idina closed her eyes, trying to school the rising panic. “I can't...”
“Just try! Elphie, please!”
“Fine. Fine.” Idina refocused her attention on the book. At the nonsense words. She felt as if she were learning to read again - something that had not come easily the first time, in either language, much to her mother's chagrin.
“Out loud,” Glinda instructed, rising from the bed, and retrieving a quill from the desk. “Magick this.”
Idina gave a twitch in attempt of nodding, then haltingly began, immediately feeling incredibly stupid. She had only been stuttering for a few seconds until Glinda stopped her with a hand delicately placed on her arm. The quill remaining frustratingly still. “Useless,” Idina said, inexplicably upset. Much as she had been at the age of four. But how could this be so hard? “Damn it.” How can this be so different from Schwartz' version!
“We just need to work on this,” Glinda whispered, and reached for the book, her eyes scanning the text as if trying to see it differently. “It's only a simple spell.”
“Well, that's great. I'm retarded, see? I can't do this! Whatever El-I had, is gone now!” A green hand rose to Elphaba's eyes as they threatened to water. “Christ! I... this...”
“Elphie. Elphie, do calm down.” Glinda slowly removed the hand, looking into dark upset eyes. “We'll work on it. I'm sure this is all sorcery. Your amnesia-”
“...amesia. Right,” Idina mumbled. She sniffled as Glinda stroked her cheek with a feather-light touch. Surprisingly affectionate.
“Oh!” Glinda all but shrieked, startling Idina, and erupted from the bed. “Well I have to go. My friends are expecting me. Another lunch date. I'm sure it's just about lunchtime now.” Her hands were already about her hair, no doubt looking for any fly away curls as she strode toward the wardrobe.
“You're leaving again?”
“Yes, but not for long.” She retrieved a silky shawl and directed a smile at Idina. “I'll see you just before the end. I should - yes, I should show you to your next lecture. Well, goodbye. Have to go. Mustn't keep them waiting, Elphie.” And she quickly opened the door, hurried through it, and shut it just as quickly.
With a groan, Idina fell back to the bed, staring at the ceiling. “God help me. Whatever God is here.” She crossed her legs, then winced at the sensation.
Damn teenage hormones.
As if they weren't bad enough the first time round.
* * *
Broadway
When the high-pitched ring startled Elphaba from the book she’d been reading (‘Ask The Dust’ said the cover - she’d found it on Idina’s shelf, but was failing to get into it), she at first thought it was the telephone again. She winced, fearing a conversation similar to the one she had with the man who, apparently, was her husband; but unlike the phone, the noise stopped after half a second, leaving Elphaba with no idea as to its cause. This apartment was far too full of strange technology, she decided, going back to the book, only to be disturbed again at the sound of a key turning and her front door opening.
“Dee, honey? You there?” That was Kristin’s voice. Then “Who the hell tidied up in here? I have never seen Dee’s place looking like this - look Eden! Carpet!” That was the loud woman who had called her the other day. Elphaba blinked as Kristin appeared through the doorway, flanked by two women she vaguely remembered from the hospital. One of them - Michelle, she guessed - was grinning manically, while the other (Eden…the woman Kristin had said was playing ‘Elphaba’ now?) seemed to be holding her back from bounding into the living room.
“What’re you doing here?” she asked, more than a little confused. “And how did you get in?”
“I took your spare key, remember sweetie?” said Kristin, coming in to sit down next to her on the sofa. “How’re you feeling?”
“I’m alright…” She didn’t get a chance to say any more before Michelle cut in, settling herself on Elphaba’s other side.
“See Kristin? I told you she’d be fine!” She grinned proudly at Elphaba. “This was all my idea.”
“What was?”
“What Michelle means,” Eden said, still hanging back awkwardly by the door, “is that we’re here to take you out. If you’re feeling okay, that is. If you’re ribs are hurting too much, or you’re tired, don’t worry about it, right? Right Michelle?”
“Yes,” said Michelle solemnly. “If you don’t feel up to it, I promise, as your favourite little sister, I will not force you to go.” She smiled again. “But if you do come, I can guarantee you a great - but quiet!” she amended, catching Kristin’s expression “- night out.”
There it was again, that reference to Michelle playing her sister. Staring at the woman in front of her, wild-eyed and laughing, wearing a rather revealing scarlet shirt, Elphaba was having difficulty imagining anyone less like Nessarose. Not to mention her features and skin tone being all wrong. If anything, Eden would probably be better suited. She seemed to be emphasising that this had all been Michelle’s idea, almost as if she felt uncomfortable or embarrassed around the other woman. It reminded Elphaba of Nessarose’s shame at having her as a sister, just not nearly so obvious. There was definitely some tension between them though. Elphaba was still intrigued at the idea of people acting out her story, and coming face to face with the woman who was apparently playing her was more than a little jarring. Eden also gave the impression of being an outsider, but, as far as Elphaba could tell, that was where the resemblance ended.
She didn’t really want to go out with these people - she didn’t like nights out at the best of times, and this would give her far too many opportunities to slip up - but being stuck in the apartment on her own for days on end wasn’t particularly appealing either, especially if people kept phoning, expecting to speak to Idina.
“I’ll come,” she said decisively. Michelle looked triumphant, whereas Kristin still seemed concerned.
“Are you sure? You’re not in too much pain?”
“No, it’s alright. I’ve been taking the medication like you told me. I’ll be fine.”
“Great!” Michelle jumped up, grabbing her hands and pulling Elphaba up with her. “You just go change and we can go.”
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Elphaba asked, staring down at her long skirt and blouse. She panicked, suddenly. They couldn’t make her wear trousers, not out in public!
“Nothing,” said Kristin hurriedly, shooting warning looks at Michelle. “You look great. The taxi should still be waiting, if he listened to what I told him anyway. You go on with Eden and Michelle. I’ll lock up.”
“Here we go. One margarita, one white wine spritzer, one tequila sunrise, and an orange juice,” Eden set the drinks down on the table. “You okay Dee?”
Strangely enough, Elphaba actually felt better than she’d expected. It was a sweet little bar, close enough to the Broadway district that it seemed where most actors went to relax after shows. The music was lively but not ear-blasting, and there was even an area of floor cleared for dancing, though both Eden and Kristin had assured her that dancing was thoroughly off the agenda for the evening.
“I’m feeling a lot better. Thank you. For... taking me out. And to Eden, as well for, well, this.” She gestured to her face and hair, which Eden had helped make up for her in the taxi. (Michelle had tried at first, but Eden had pushed her away, remarking that she didn’t want Idina looking like a crazed diva on crack. Kristin had smiled, but had kept her distance.) It wasn’t anything special, just a smudge of a pencil type thing along the lids of her eyes, a brush of powder on her cheeks and some gloss on her lips, but what with that and her hair tied up, Elphaba was amazed at the result. Was it really that simple? Was that all Glinda and her friends did to make themselves look so perfect each day? If so, why was it so time-consuming for them? Or was Eden just unnaturally quick? Eden smiled kindly at her.
“No problem. It’ll be easier to get off than the green, at any rate.”
“You poor green girls, you think you have it so hard,” Michelle pouted. “Try spending half the show in a chair designed by some sadist, controlling the whole thing with the back of your heel, so you come off stage in total agony every night. None of you could handle it, I’m telling you.” Eden started to challenge but Michelle held up her hand. “Not even you, chiquita. Screw understudying, you don’t have what it takes to be a true Nessa.”
“Maybe not, but you’re not the only one who knows about pain in the name of The Show,” countered Kristin, sipping her wine. “Try the Glinda Heels Of Doom. And let’s not forget the bubble, people. Have you any idea just how high above the stage it is? And I have to sing opera from up there.”
“Don’t get started on singing from a height, Miss Bubble. Have you ever tried going up in the cherry picker? It may not be as high, but it’s utterly disorienting. And it’s the climax of the show, you can’t exactly hesitate to get your bearings, right Dee?”
“What? Oh, yes.” Elphaba had no idea what they were talking about. Eden looked at her oddly, but Michelle snorted.
“Looks like Dee can handle it fine. Just you then, Espinosa.”
“I swear I told you not to call me by my surname.”
“Sure thing, chihuahua.” Elphaba had no idea what a ‘chihuahua’ was - it sounded vaguely like a name for the latest brand of under-bust corsets, or something similar - but Michelle’s tone had seemed light and humorous. Eden, however, was glaring at her.
“I have a name,” she said sharply. Michelle merely grinned.
“Just shut up and drink your tequila like a good little girl, chica.”
“Eden!”
“No, I’m Michelle, remember?” Michelle turned to Elphaba. “I think she’s losing it. Must be the strain of being on Broadway. Poor girl, she can’t take the greenness of it all. You should get a move on and get back on stage, if only to save our poor little Spanish flower from a nervous breakdown.”
“We said we weren’t going to do that,” Kristin cut in. “No pressuring Idina. She has enough to cope with without you trying to force her back when she’s not ready.” Kristin looked uncomfortable, as if Idina not being on stage was already causing her problems. She turned to Elphaba. “It’s okay honey, there’s no pressure.”
“Let’s get her drunk!” Michelle suggested suddenly, downing the rest of her margarita.
“Let’s not,” said Elphaba quickly. Alcohol did not agree with her at the best of times. She thought quickly. “My medication. I can’t.”
“Mm, good one,” Michelle replied thoughtfully. “Wouldn’t want you to OD and die on us now. Still, if you’re stoned, that’s almost as good.”
“Excuse me? Are you Idina Menzel?”
Elphaba was saved from Michelle’s next great idea by the young woman who had approached them. She looked about eighteen, with blonde hair in a high-ponytail and a t-shirt which read “Defying Gravity” in green letters. Elphaba stared at her.
“Uh, yes, I am. And you are?”
“Oh my god! It’s Idina Menzel! Katie, Emma, get over here!” The girl was gazing at them with awe, and was quickly joined by two friends. “And you’re Kristin Chenoweth, aren’t you?” Kristin nodded, smiling. “Wow, I can’t believe this! I’ve seen Wicked like, a million times. I love you guys. You are such an amazing singer! Is it scary, going up in that bubble?”
“You get used to it,” Kristin said modestly.
“And you’re…?” The woman was looking at the others on the table.
“Michelle Federer,” Michelle said, beaming. Then, when the girl obviously failed to comprehend, “Nessarose.” She poked Eden. “And this is the Elphaba standby.”
“Thanks Michelle.” Eden glared at her.
“Oh, okay, cool.” She turned back to Kristin. “Hey, can I have your autograph? My name’s Laura.”
“Sure sweetie.” Kristin seemed perfectly at ease with the fans. “You know, my standby’s name is Laura.”
“Laura Bell Bundy, I know,” Laura replied eagerly. “I saw her last month when you were off. She’s great, but not as good as you.”
“She knows Laura Bell Bundy but she doesn’t know me?” Michelle hissed to Eden. Eden shot her a superior smile.
“No sympathy Michelle. Not after the standby comment. None at all.”
Kristin had signed To Laura, glad you liked the show, love Kristin in cute curly handwriting on a napkin. The girl was almost glowing. She thanked Kristin, then turned to Idina.
“Would you?” she asked, in a way that was so utterly pathetic Elphaba could only blink at her. This woman wanted her signature on a bit of paper, because she was on stage? It was laughable. The other two girls were also clustered around her, grasping pens and napkins of their own, with outrageously hopeful expressions on their faces. But Kristin had been completely unfazed, and it struck Elphaba that maybe this was normal in this strange world.
“Uhm, sure,” she said, picking up Kristin’s pen. How did you spell ‘Idina Menzel’? Come to that, how did Idina write her name? It occurred to her that this alone might blow her cover. There was no way she could pull off someone else’s signature without having a clue what it looked like.
Then it hit her. These people were only interested in Idina because she played Elphaba on stage. Perhaps it wasn’t Idina they really wanted anyway. Perhaps it was more some strange admiration of the character - of, well, her.
Elphaba signed To Laura, I like your shirt, Elphaba in her usual spiky handwriting. (It was a good shirt, she had decided. ‘Defying Gravity’ sounded exciting.) She handed it back to the woman, whose eyes widened as she read it.
“Oh my god! I got an autograph from Elphaba!” The other two girls shoved napkins under Elphaba’s nose, and she repeated the message, filling in the names they gave her. Kristin glanced at what she’d written and smiled.
“That is so cute, Dee. And Laura, I can write you another one from Glinda as well, if you like.”
Laura nodded eagerly. One of her friends shyly offered her Elphaba-signed napkin to Michelle, who sighed witheringly.
“So now you care about me, huh? You have no clue who I am, do you?”
“You’re Nessarose. You get to zoom around in a wheelchair and make Elphaba turn Boq into the tin-man. You’re evil.”
“Damn right I am!” Michelle beamed, signing From evil wheelchair-crazed Nessarose. Eden muttered something about not encouraging them, but she was smiling.
“You don’t mind that they don’t want your autograph?” Elphaba asked, wondering if Eden was feeling left out. Eden shook her head.
“God no. I find the whole thing kinda weird anyway. What’s the point, to prove they’ve met me or something?” She laughed suddenly. “That said, I waited at the stage-door for hours to meet you after seeing Rent. You signed my programme for me. I’ll always remember that. So maybe I understand them a little.”
Elphaba blinked, completely lost and a little scared. But before she could ask what in Oz Eden was going on about, the fangirls were squealing at a man who had just entered the bar. From the way they flocked to him, she guessed he must be another member of this strange cast of players, and he certainly seemed as comfortable amongst them as Kristin had been. When the fans finally left, he was introduced to her by Kristin (“Of course, you probably don’t remember. This is Norbert, he plays Fiyero”), and insisted on buying them all another round of drinks. Since Elphaba had no idea who this ‘Fiyero’ character was, his presence disturbed her less than the others, and as they continued to chat about theatre and actors and stage gossip, she began to almost enjoy herself.
“Joel’s not going to be on tomorrow, just so you know,” Norbert was telling everyone. “Family thing.”
“Pity, I was hoping he’d be around add some semblance of sanity to these guys,” Kristin said, looking pointedly at Michelle, who was playing the rim of an empty wine glass with the tip of finger, producing an odd squeaking sound. She sighed and turned back to Elphaba. “Joel plays the Wizard.”
Elphaba gasped, choking on her orange juice so badly she couldn’t breathe for a second, coughing terribly as it trickled down her nose. Eden thumped her on the back and passed her the only unsigned napkin left.
“What?!” Elphaba demanded, when she could speak again some significant time later.
“She still has amnesia,” Kristin explained to Norbert, who looked shocked. “She doesn’t remember anything about the production. Dee, honey, it’s okay. You’ll get back into the swing of things. Hey, why don’t you come to the theatre tomorrow? I’m sure everyone would love to see you again. And maybe being back there will help kick-start your memory.”
Everyone nodded in agreement, shooting sympathetic smiles at her. Elphaba found herself conceding without really realising what she was saying. The Wizard? Surely not. It was one thing to be acting out the story of a couple of university students. But involving the Wizard changed things completely. It wasn’t just strange, it was downright dangerous. True, the Wizard stood for everything that was good in Oz, but portraying him in a play could not be sensible.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Elphaba knew that it wasn’t like that, not here. This was a different world, and things didn’t matter in the same way. Her and Glinda and Nessa, and maybe the Wizard too, were all just characters to these people, not real. And she couldn’t deny that she was more than a little curious about it all. Nanny would say that one could be curious about poisonous snakes, but that didn’t make examining them any safer. And Elphaba would retort that it was only through such examination that anything could be learnt about them, which would be essential in developing a cure. A scientific mind, Doctor Dillamond had told her, approvingly. So she would go to the theatre tomorrow, and see what in Oz they had done with her life.
With any luck, she might soon meet the Wizard.
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