The Effects of Gravity 16/? by ainsleyaisling
Title: The Effects of Gravity 16/?
Author: ainsleyaisling
Rating: PG
'Verse: Musical AU; some details from bookverse
Pairings: Glinda/Fiyero, Elphaba/Fiyero, Glinda/Elphaba
Summary: Elphaba's either delirious or finally seeing the truth.
Disclaimer: Wicked belongs mostly to Gregory Maguire, and musicalverse belongs to Stephen Schwartz, Winnie Holzman, and possibly Universal.
Notes: Previous section can be found here.
~~Elphaba~~
"You don't look very well."
Elphaba glared up at Fiyero's roommate, who had dropped into a library chair beside hers. "I never look very well."
"You're looking less green than usual; I don't think that's a good thing."
"Then you're the only one." She barely got the sentence out before a coughing fit seized her and she turned away from him, shaking.
"Yeah, that sounded healthy," Rikk commented. "Just try not to cough on me, all right? I need a favor."
"What kind of favor?" Her voice was harsh and scratched-sounding even to her own ears.
"You remember my friend from home? From the Ball?"
She passed a hand over her forehead; her skin was so hot that her face was actually painful to touch. "The - Munchkin?"
"Yeah - Kiren. The thing is, he actually does really like your sister, and I promised I'd at least talk to you about it so he'd shut up."
"So you're talking to me. What am I supposed to do about it?"
"Well, she'll barely speak to him."
Elphaba leaned back in her chair, resting her head. "If she doesn't like him, there's nothing I can do about that."
"I don't think it's that she doesn't like him," Rikk said. "I think she doesn't trust that he really likes her, because of Boq . . . and Glinda."
"So . . ." She closed her eyes briefly, feeling them burn against her eyelids. "So you want me to convince Nessa that this boy actually likes her, and hasn't been coerced in some way by Glinda."
"Or at least try. Will you -"
"I'll think about it." Her head was reeling too much to make sense of anything at the moment; when Rikk had come along he'd interrupted nothing more productive than her staring at a history of sorcery trying to make the words stay in focus. "I - I really need to get back to this . . ."
"You really don't look well," he said. "Are you - should you go to the infirmary? Or should I get someone?"
"I'm fine," she said. "I just need to finish reading this."
"You haven't turned a page in ten minutes."
"You were watching me?"
"I was gauging your mood."
"And you decided you should come over here anyway?"
"I decided you're too sick to have any mood at all."
"I'm not sick," she insisted.
"All right, you're not sick. Talk to your sister, please? Or Kiren is going to drive me insane, and I can't have two lovesick -"
Elphaba waited, but despite her fogged head she was fairly certain that Rikk hadn't finished his statement. "Two lovesick what?"
"Friends." He pushed his chair back, suddenly seeming in a hurry to leave. "Another friend is also . . . well, you know. Feel better, Elphaba!"
"I'm not -" He was already gone, and there was no need to continue protesting. She laid her head down on top of the open book and concentrated on trying to think straight, about anything at all.
The image of Madame Morrible swam in front of her closed eyes. Morrible hadn't wanted her and Glinda to figure out how to combine their magics - but she wanted them to learn something similar but less powerful - why take the risk? Because she wanted them to use it for her. But why bother, if she thought Glinda was useless? Obviously she had realized that wasn't the case. Glinda had been murmuring in her sleep lately, something about leering and lust and Elphaba, of all people, and what did that have to do with Morrible? Something - something to do with the spell she had cast on them - but why, why cast that spell?
She squeezed her eyes tighter shut and massaged her aching temples with both hands. Morrible, and the Wizard, thought Glinda could be manipulated through and by Elphaba. They thought her relationship to Elphaba, the source of her weakness (and Elphaba's, for that matter), was based on sex. All right, so sex is what Morrible would use if she wanted to turn Glinda against Elphaba - but why do that, when they were counting on her devotion to Elphaba to ensure her loyalty? Unless they weren't. Maybe she had been trying to lure Glinda, to offer her something more compelling. But then why hadn't it worked?
The library lamp divided itself into two images as Elphaba opened her eyes; the room spun and trembled. Glinda would be looking for her at dinner - Glinda would help her get up to their room. Glinda had promised not to force her to the infirmary. She got shakily to her feet and headed for the stairwell. How stupid of Morrible really, how unobservant, to think that Glinda could be swayed into betraying Elphaba. Glinda could never do such a thing. Morrible hadn't seen Glinda break down in tears at the prospect of Elphaba leaving - that was her problem. Glinda had been afraid - Glinda might do almost anything if she were afraid . . .
If the Wizard and Morrible wanted Elphaba, what could be their goal in turning her and Glinda against each other?
Unless they wanted her and Glinda fighting, fighting in public.
Yes, that would be perfect. A bad witch to do all the unpleasant things and a good one to profess the Wizard's love for his people. The bad witch couldn't corrupt the good one; they'd have to break her away -
No. No, the Wizard had all but said that Glinda was only important because she was important to Elphaba.
Maybe Morrible didn't tell the Wizard all her plans.
Maybe Glinda didn't tell Elphaba everything that happened when she and Morrible were alone.
Elphaba stumbled and leaned against the wall for support, her stomach roiling, cold sweat prickling at her forehead. Dinner, she reminded herself. And then trust Glinda to help.
Trust Glinda. Of course she could.
~~Glinda~~
Glinda knew Elphaba was worse the moment she saw her enter the dining room. She glanced at her friends' curious faces, but there was no way to get around the fact that Elphaba looked very ill and simply couldn't be left to herself. "Excuse me," she said. "My roommate's been ill and I think she may need some assistance."
As she took Elphaba's elbow, feeling the unnatural heat of her roommate's skin through her sleeve, Elphaba said intently, "Glinda, you've told me everything Morrible said to you, haven't you?"
"What?" Glinda steered Elphaba toward an empty table and eased her down into a chair. "Elphaba, you're burning up."
"I'm fine," Elphaba insisted. "I need to know. Did she say anything to you that you didn't tell me about?"
"Nothing worth mentioning." It was true, sort of. At any rate she wasn't going to try to explain when she wasn't even perfectly sure of what it all meant herself - especially not when Elphaba was practically raving from illness anyway and barely knew what she was saying. "Let me get you some soup and try to eat it, please? You weren't at lunch, you'll faint."
"I don't need to -" Elphaba started, but Glinda was already on her way to the servery. Honestly, of all the stubborn things.
When she set a bowl of soup on the table Elphaba predictably ignored it, but when Glinda prodded the spoon into her hand she ate methodically, as long as Glinda seemed to be listening to what she was saying. "I need to know," she insisted. "I think they're trying to use you for something . . ."
"Yes, Elphie, we know that," Glinda said patiently. "They're using us both for something, remember?"
"No, something different, something bad -"
"Isn't it all bad?"
"They want to turn you against me, they want us to fight -"
"Elphie, stop." Glinda covered Elphaba's free hand with hers and watched as her roommate reluctantly returned to her soup. "No one wants us to fight. And even if they did it wouldn't matter, because I wouldn't be turned against you no matter what. You trust me, don't you?"
Elphaba nodded, slowly, her fever-bright eyes fixed intently on Glinda's face.
"Then will you please let me take you to the infirmary?"
"No!" Elphaba had been vehemently against the idea from the start, but now she looked almost panicked. "No, you have to promise me. I can't go there, and neither can you."
"What?" Elphaba's panic was contagious, but it wasn't fear of the infirmary that plagued Glinda - it was fear that Elphaba's fever was finally too high, that she was truly incoherent. "Elphaba, what's wrong with the infirmary?"
"The matron - I saw the matron the other night . . ."
"Saw her doing what?"
"In the Animal housing - I saw her talking to someone inside -"
"You didn't tell me this before." Glinda was fairly certain this had never happened, that Elphaba was delirious, but an ominous feeling descended over her anyway. If Elphaba was right -
"I didn't remember until today - I think it was a spell . . ."
Now she was certain Elphaba was raving, but what could she do? And if there was the slightest possibility that it was true, that someone had put a spell on Elphaba to make her forget seeing the infirmary matron talking to - who? One of the Wizard's spies? Then Glinda certainly couldn't take her there, even if she could have managed it without Elphaba fighting her.
She decided finally that the only thing to do was to take Elphaba back to their room, as she kept begging Glinda to do, and hope for the best. While they were still in the dining room she let Elphaba try to walk on her own with just a steadying arm linked through hers, but by the time they were outside and away, mostly, from prying eyes Glinda was nearly holding her up. Elphaba's heat soaked through their clothes every place that they touched, and Glinda felt as though she could have gone without her coat and been perfectly warm.
Elphaba leaned heavily against her and stumbled often, and Glinda began to fear that she wouldn't be strong enough to get them back to the dormitory. "Here," she said as gently as she could even while she staggered under Elphaba's limp dead weight, "sit on this bench for a moment and rest."
Elphaba sank onto the bench without protest and leaned her head against its back, closing her eyes. Glinda sat close by and took off her coat as she watched Elphaba's ragged breathing. After a moment she slipped an arm around Elphaba's shoulders and moved closer to her so that she could whisper, "I'm sorry you're so sick. I wish I could help."
One of Elphaba's hands stole into Glinda's lap to clasp her free hand as if it were a reply. Glinda sat quietly resting until she noticed that Elphaba's breathing had slowed, and she decided it was time to try making it the rest of the way. Sitting up straight, she pulled Elphaba's arm over her own shoulders and said, "Come on Elphie, let's get you home."
The fact that there was no reply from Elphaba didn't particularly worry her, but the fact that Elphaba didn't move or give any other sign of hearing did. "Elphie," she said again. "Come on, time to get up." When Elphaba still didn't respond, Glinda felt the panic begin to rise within her again. She quickly checked Elphaba's breathing, her pulse, her heartbeat - she seemed all right, considering, but Glinda couldn't rouse her. As she prodded at Elphaba, one arm moved slightly and she appeared to swallow, but she didn't seem able to respond or, certainly, to stand or walk.
Glinda looked around them frantically. Ordinarily she would have called for help and asked someone to get the infirmary matron, but . . . the crazy possibility that Elphaba might be right about the matron pricked at her brain. And now Elphaba wasn't just a little bit ill; she was terribly vulnerable, unable to defend herself against - whatever might happen. Perhaps insanity was catching, but Glinda felt strongly that she should trust Elphaba's instincts. If Elphaba got worse, she promised herself, then she would have no other choice but to go to the matron. But for now, no.
Which left finding some other way to get her back to the dormitory where Glinda could try to take care of her.
Few other students were wandering by at this time - most were still at dinner, or had skipped the university dinner entirely and were already out on the town. Glinda didn't recognize most of the students she did see, and she was reluctant to entrust Elphaba to a stranger - especially considering how strangers tended to react to Elphaba. Then she saw him, walking alone.
For a long moment her mind rebelled. She couldn't possibly talk to him. She couldn't possibly ask him for help. It would be too humiliating, too dependent, too weak . . . what if he said no or ignored her? What if he told her to leave him alone? Of course he had said he loved her, loved her as - what? A friend? But maybe that was just something boys said. She couldn't . . .
Oh, but she could, and she knew it. For Elphaba she could. Especially because she had to.
Freeing herself carefully from Elphaba's weight, Glinda arranged her nearly-unconscious roommate as comfortably as she could on the bench and then sprinted after Fiyero, calling his name when she came close enough. He turned with an apprehensive look on his face (she didn't exactly blame him), and said nervously, "Glinda. Hi. Did you -"
"I need help," she blurted out before he could say something that would mortify them both. "Elphaba's ill and I can't get her home by myself."
His face changed immediately. "Where?" he asked.
"This way." She hurried back to the bench where she had left Elphaba, not bothering to see whether he was following. She slipped herself back under Elphaba's arm and whispered, "I'm back, Elphie - Fiyero's going to help me get you home."
"She's fevered?" Fiyero asked.
Glinda nodded. She was finding that having something to concentrate on was making it much easier to talk to him than she would have anticipated. "She's been ill for a few days, it keeps getting worse. She was walking earlier but now I can't get her up."
"We need to take her to the infirmary."
"No!" Fiyero looked taken aback by her vehemence. "I can't explain," she said, "but we can't take her there. It's not safe."
"How is -"
"Just believe me, please? It's to do with -" She dropped her voice to a whisper, forcing him to lean closer to hear her. "- the Wizard, and . . . something that happened in the Emerald City." Not exactly true, but close enough.
"All right," he said somewhat doubtfully. He sat down on Elphaba's other side and lifted her other arm over his shoulders. "Elphaba," he said, "think you can walk if we both help you?" When Elphaba didn't respond except to stir slightly he leaned closer, studying her face. He placed her arm back at her side and went through the same motions Glinda had earlier, feeling her pulse at her wrist and her throat. "Great Oz," he said, sliding his hand around and pressing it to the back of her neck, then slightly down the back of her dress, "she's like a stove, Glinda. Are you sure we can't -"
"We can't. Really. Just please -"
"All right." He stood up. "But I don't think we're going to have any luck expecting her to help. You'll just have to open doors for me."
"Open doors?"
He didn't have to explain further; he was already lifting Elphaba carefully into his arms. "Will you be able to carry her all the way?" Glinda asked, hovering anxiously.
"It's easy, she doesn't weigh hardly anything." He jerked his chin toward the girls' dormitory off in the distance. "Go ahead, lead on."
They attracted their share of stares on the way to the dormitory, but now Glinda was grateful that so few students were around. She was able to get Fiyero into the building and up the stairs without being seen - both of them walking silently and avoiding catching each other's eye - and let him into their room with a sigh of relief.
Fiyero set Elphaba gently on her bed and pressed his hand to her forehead. "If you won't bring her to the infirmary you're going to have to do something to bring this fever down."
"So you're a doctor now?" She hadn't meant to sound quite so hostile. Or maybe she had.
He only looked at her over his shoulder. "Not a lot of doctors out in the Vinkus, actually," he said. "It's mostly folk medicine." His hand pressed against the side of Elphaba's neck as he was talking. "Ice if you can get it, or cold water - but keep the fire going, you're not trying to kill her." His hand slipped down over her collarbone and quite absently he unfastened the first few buttons of her dress to press his hand over the exposed skin.
"Fiyero!" Glinda exclaimed, scandalized.
He looked down at what he was doing. "She's gotten so chilled from being outside that I can't tell what her temperature is from her face anymore."
"Still, I think I'll take it from here."
"Right." He straightened and headed for the door.
"Fiyero?"
He stopped and turned. "Yeah?"
"Thank you. I'm sorry I yelled."
"It's all right." He hesitated. "Glinda - I don't . . . want us to have to avoid each other. I want to see you - I want us to be friends, if you think we can."
She twisted her hands without really thinking about what she was doing. "Maybe," she said finally. "I can't promise."
"That's fair." He glanced over at Elphaba. "Will you tell me how she is?"
She followed his gaze. "Yes. If anything changes I'll tell you."
"And better not tell her I . . ." He gestured toward the neckline of his own shirt.
"No, I'll leave that part out."
"Good." He lifted a hand in an awkward wave. "See you later, then."
She nodded. "See you later."
Author: ainsleyaisling
Rating: PG
'Verse: Musical AU; some details from bookverse
Pairings: Glinda/Fiyero, Elphaba/Fiyero, Glinda/Elphaba
Summary: Elphaba's either delirious or finally seeing the truth.
Disclaimer: Wicked belongs mostly to Gregory Maguire, and musicalverse belongs to Stephen Schwartz, Winnie Holzman, and possibly Universal.
Notes: Previous section can be found here.
~~Elphaba~~
"You don't look very well."
Elphaba glared up at Fiyero's roommate, who had dropped into a library chair beside hers. "I never look very well."
"You're looking less green than usual; I don't think that's a good thing."
"Then you're the only one." She barely got the sentence out before a coughing fit seized her and she turned away from him, shaking.
"Yeah, that sounded healthy," Rikk commented. "Just try not to cough on me, all right? I need a favor."
"What kind of favor?" Her voice was harsh and scratched-sounding even to her own ears.
"You remember my friend from home? From the Ball?"
She passed a hand over her forehead; her skin was so hot that her face was actually painful to touch. "The - Munchkin?"
"Yeah - Kiren. The thing is, he actually does really like your sister, and I promised I'd at least talk to you about it so he'd shut up."
"So you're talking to me. What am I supposed to do about it?"
"Well, she'll barely speak to him."
Elphaba leaned back in her chair, resting her head. "If she doesn't like him, there's nothing I can do about that."
"I don't think it's that she doesn't like him," Rikk said. "I think she doesn't trust that he really likes her, because of Boq . . . and Glinda."
"So . . ." She closed her eyes briefly, feeling them burn against her eyelids. "So you want me to convince Nessa that this boy actually likes her, and hasn't been coerced in some way by Glinda."
"Or at least try. Will you -"
"I'll think about it." Her head was reeling too much to make sense of anything at the moment; when Rikk had come along he'd interrupted nothing more productive than her staring at a history of sorcery trying to make the words stay in focus. "I - I really need to get back to this . . ."
"You really don't look well," he said. "Are you - should you go to the infirmary? Or should I get someone?"
"I'm fine," she said. "I just need to finish reading this."
"You haven't turned a page in ten minutes."
"You were watching me?"
"I was gauging your mood."
"And you decided you should come over here anyway?"
"I decided you're too sick to have any mood at all."
"I'm not sick," she insisted.
"All right, you're not sick. Talk to your sister, please? Or Kiren is going to drive me insane, and I can't have two lovesick -"
Elphaba waited, but despite her fogged head she was fairly certain that Rikk hadn't finished his statement. "Two lovesick what?"
"Friends." He pushed his chair back, suddenly seeming in a hurry to leave. "Another friend is also . . . well, you know. Feel better, Elphaba!"
"I'm not -" He was already gone, and there was no need to continue protesting. She laid her head down on top of the open book and concentrated on trying to think straight, about anything at all.
The image of Madame Morrible swam in front of her closed eyes. Morrible hadn't wanted her and Glinda to figure out how to combine their magics - but she wanted them to learn something similar but less powerful - why take the risk? Because she wanted them to use it for her. But why bother, if she thought Glinda was useless? Obviously she had realized that wasn't the case. Glinda had been murmuring in her sleep lately, something about leering and lust and Elphaba, of all people, and what did that have to do with Morrible? Something - something to do with the spell she had cast on them - but why, why cast that spell?
She squeezed her eyes tighter shut and massaged her aching temples with both hands. Morrible, and the Wizard, thought Glinda could be manipulated through and by Elphaba. They thought her relationship to Elphaba, the source of her weakness (and Elphaba's, for that matter), was based on sex. All right, so sex is what Morrible would use if she wanted to turn Glinda against Elphaba - but why do that, when they were counting on her devotion to Elphaba to ensure her loyalty? Unless they weren't. Maybe she had been trying to lure Glinda, to offer her something more compelling. But then why hadn't it worked?
The library lamp divided itself into two images as Elphaba opened her eyes; the room spun and trembled. Glinda would be looking for her at dinner - Glinda would help her get up to their room. Glinda had promised not to force her to the infirmary. She got shakily to her feet and headed for the stairwell. How stupid of Morrible really, how unobservant, to think that Glinda could be swayed into betraying Elphaba. Glinda could never do such a thing. Morrible hadn't seen Glinda break down in tears at the prospect of Elphaba leaving - that was her problem. Glinda had been afraid - Glinda might do almost anything if she were afraid . . .
If the Wizard and Morrible wanted Elphaba, what could be their goal in turning her and Glinda against each other?
Unless they wanted her and Glinda fighting, fighting in public.
Yes, that would be perfect. A bad witch to do all the unpleasant things and a good one to profess the Wizard's love for his people. The bad witch couldn't corrupt the good one; they'd have to break her away -
No. No, the Wizard had all but said that Glinda was only important because she was important to Elphaba.
Maybe Morrible didn't tell the Wizard all her plans.
Maybe Glinda didn't tell Elphaba everything that happened when she and Morrible were alone.
Elphaba stumbled and leaned against the wall for support, her stomach roiling, cold sweat prickling at her forehead. Dinner, she reminded herself. And then trust Glinda to help.
Trust Glinda. Of course she could.
~~Glinda~~
Glinda knew Elphaba was worse the moment she saw her enter the dining room. She glanced at her friends' curious faces, but there was no way to get around the fact that Elphaba looked very ill and simply couldn't be left to herself. "Excuse me," she said. "My roommate's been ill and I think she may need some assistance."
As she took Elphaba's elbow, feeling the unnatural heat of her roommate's skin through her sleeve, Elphaba said intently, "Glinda, you've told me everything Morrible said to you, haven't you?"
"What?" Glinda steered Elphaba toward an empty table and eased her down into a chair. "Elphaba, you're burning up."
"I'm fine," Elphaba insisted. "I need to know. Did she say anything to you that you didn't tell me about?"
"Nothing worth mentioning." It was true, sort of. At any rate she wasn't going to try to explain when she wasn't even perfectly sure of what it all meant herself - especially not when Elphaba was practically raving from illness anyway and barely knew what she was saying. "Let me get you some soup and try to eat it, please? You weren't at lunch, you'll faint."
"I don't need to -" Elphaba started, but Glinda was already on her way to the servery. Honestly, of all the stubborn things.
When she set a bowl of soup on the table Elphaba predictably ignored it, but when Glinda prodded the spoon into her hand she ate methodically, as long as Glinda seemed to be listening to what she was saying. "I need to know," she insisted. "I think they're trying to use you for something . . ."
"Yes, Elphie, we know that," Glinda said patiently. "They're using us both for something, remember?"
"No, something different, something bad -"
"Isn't it all bad?"
"They want to turn you against me, they want us to fight -"
"Elphie, stop." Glinda covered Elphaba's free hand with hers and watched as her roommate reluctantly returned to her soup. "No one wants us to fight. And even if they did it wouldn't matter, because I wouldn't be turned against you no matter what. You trust me, don't you?"
Elphaba nodded, slowly, her fever-bright eyes fixed intently on Glinda's face.
"Then will you please let me take you to the infirmary?"
"No!" Elphaba had been vehemently against the idea from the start, but now she looked almost panicked. "No, you have to promise me. I can't go there, and neither can you."
"What?" Elphaba's panic was contagious, but it wasn't fear of the infirmary that plagued Glinda - it was fear that Elphaba's fever was finally too high, that she was truly incoherent. "Elphaba, what's wrong with the infirmary?"
"The matron - I saw the matron the other night . . ."
"Saw her doing what?"
"In the Animal housing - I saw her talking to someone inside -"
"You didn't tell me this before." Glinda was fairly certain this had never happened, that Elphaba was delirious, but an ominous feeling descended over her anyway. If Elphaba was right -
"I didn't remember until today - I think it was a spell . . ."
Now she was certain Elphaba was raving, but what could she do? And if there was the slightest possibility that it was true, that someone had put a spell on Elphaba to make her forget seeing the infirmary matron talking to - who? One of the Wizard's spies? Then Glinda certainly couldn't take her there, even if she could have managed it without Elphaba fighting her.
She decided finally that the only thing to do was to take Elphaba back to their room, as she kept begging Glinda to do, and hope for the best. While they were still in the dining room she let Elphaba try to walk on her own with just a steadying arm linked through hers, but by the time they were outside and away, mostly, from prying eyes Glinda was nearly holding her up. Elphaba's heat soaked through their clothes every place that they touched, and Glinda felt as though she could have gone without her coat and been perfectly warm.
Elphaba leaned heavily against her and stumbled often, and Glinda began to fear that she wouldn't be strong enough to get them back to the dormitory. "Here," she said as gently as she could even while she staggered under Elphaba's limp dead weight, "sit on this bench for a moment and rest."
Elphaba sank onto the bench without protest and leaned her head against its back, closing her eyes. Glinda sat close by and took off her coat as she watched Elphaba's ragged breathing. After a moment she slipped an arm around Elphaba's shoulders and moved closer to her so that she could whisper, "I'm sorry you're so sick. I wish I could help."
One of Elphaba's hands stole into Glinda's lap to clasp her free hand as if it were a reply. Glinda sat quietly resting until she noticed that Elphaba's breathing had slowed, and she decided it was time to try making it the rest of the way. Sitting up straight, she pulled Elphaba's arm over her own shoulders and said, "Come on Elphie, let's get you home."
The fact that there was no reply from Elphaba didn't particularly worry her, but the fact that Elphaba didn't move or give any other sign of hearing did. "Elphie," she said again. "Come on, time to get up." When Elphaba still didn't respond, Glinda felt the panic begin to rise within her again. She quickly checked Elphaba's breathing, her pulse, her heartbeat - she seemed all right, considering, but Glinda couldn't rouse her. As she prodded at Elphaba, one arm moved slightly and she appeared to swallow, but she didn't seem able to respond or, certainly, to stand or walk.
Glinda looked around them frantically. Ordinarily she would have called for help and asked someone to get the infirmary matron, but . . . the crazy possibility that Elphaba might be right about the matron pricked at her brain. And now Elphaba wasn't just a little bit ill; she was terribly vulnerable, unable to defend herself against - whatever might happen. Perhaps insanity was catching, but Glinda felt strongly that she should trust Elphaba's instincts. If Elphaba got worse, she promised herself, then she would have no other choice but to go to the matron. But for now, no.
Which left finding some other way to get her back to the dormitory where Glinda could try to take care of her.
Few other students were wandering by at this time - most were still at dinner, or had skipped the university dinner entirely and were already out on the town. Glinda didn't recognize most of the students she did see, and she was reluctant to entrust Elphaba to a stranger - especially considering how strangers tended to react to Elphaba. Then she saw him, walking alone.
For a long moment her mind rebelled. She couldn't possibly talk to him. She couldn't possibly ask him for help. It would be too humiliating, too dependent, too weak . . . what if he said no or ignored her? What if he told her to leave him alone? Of course he had said he loved her, loved her as - what? A friend? But maybe that was just something boys said. She couldn't . . .
Oh, but she could, and she knew it. For Elphaba she could. Especially because she had to.
Freeing herself carefully from Elphaba's weight, Glinda arranged her nearly-unconscious roommate as comfortably as she could on the bench and then sprinted after Fiyero, calling his name when she came close enough. He turned with an apprehensive look on his face (she didn't exactly blame him), and said nervously, "Glinda. Hi. Did you -"
"I need help," she blurted out before he could say something that would mortify them both. "Elphaba's ill and I can't get her home by myself."
His face changed immediately. "Where?" he asked.
"This way." She hurried back to the bench where she had left Elphaba, not bothering to see whether he was following. She slipped herself back under Elphaba's arm and whispered, "I'm back, Elphie - Fiyero's going to help me get you home."
"She's fevered?" Fiyero asked.
Glinda nodded. She was finding that having something to concentrate on was making it much easier to talk to him than she would have anticipated. "She's been ill for a few days, it keeps getting worse. She was walking earlier but now I can't get her up."
"We need to take her to the infirmary."
"No!" Fiyero looked taken aback by her vehemence. "I can't explain," she said, "but we can't take her there. It's not safe."
"How is -"
"Just believe me, please? It's to do with -" She dropped her voice to a whisper, forcing him to lean closer to hear her. "- the Wizard, and . . . something that happened in the Emerald City." Not exactly true, but close enough.
"All right," he said somewhat doubtfully. He sat down on Elphaba's other side and lifted her other arm over his shoulders. "Elphaba," he said, "think you can walk if we both help you?" When Elphaba didn't respond except to stir slightly he leaned closer, studying her face. He placed her arm back at her side and went through the same motions Glinda had earlier, feeling her pulse at her wrist and her throat. "Great Oz," he said, sliding his hand around and pressing it to the back of her neck, then slightly down the back of her dress, "she's like a stove, Glinda. Are you sure we can't -"
"We can't. Really. Just please -"
"All right." He stood up. "But I don't think we're going to have any luck expecting her to help. You'll just have to open doors for me."
"Open doors?"
He didn't have to explain further; he was already lifting Elphaba carefully into his arms. "Will you be able to carry her all the way?" Glinda asked, hovering anxiously.
"It's easy, she doesn't weigh hardly anything." He jerked his chin toward the girls' dormitory off in the distance. "Go ahead, lead on."
They attracted their share of stares on the way to the dormitory, but now Glinda was grateful that so few students were around. She was able to get Fiyero into the building and up the stairs without being seen - both of them walking silently and avoiding catching each other's eye - and let him into their room with a sigh of relief.
Fiyero set Elphaba gently on her bed and pressed his hand to her forehead. "If you won't bring her to the infirmary you're going to have to do something to bring this fever down."
"So you're a doctor now?" She hadn't meant to sound quite so hostile. Or maybe she had.
He only looked at her over his shoulder. "Not a lot of doctors out in the Vinkus, actually," he said. "It's mostly folk medicine." His hand pressed against the side of Elphaba's neck as he was talking. "Ice if you can get it, or cold water - but keep the fire going, you're not trying to kill her." His hand slipped down over her collarbone and quite absently he unfastened the first few buttons of her dress to press his hand over the exposed skin.
"Fiyero!" Glinda exclaimed, scandalized.
He looked down at what he was doing. "She's gotten so chilled from being outside that I can't tell what her temperature is from her face anymore."
"Still, I think I'll take it from here."
"Right." He straightened and headed for the door.
"Fiyero?"
He stopped and turned. "Yeah?"
"Thank you. I'm sorry I yelled."
"It's all right." He hesitated. "Glinda - I don't . . . want us to have to avoid each other. I want to see you - I want us to be friends, if you think we can."
She twisted her hands without really thinking about what she was doing. "Maybe," she said finally. "I can't promise."
"That's fair." He glanced over at Elphaba. "Will you tell me how she is?"
She followed his gaze. "Yes. If anything changes I'll tell you."
"And better not tell her I . . ." He gestured toward the neckline of his own shirt.
"No, I'll leave that part out."
"Good." He lifted a hand in an awkward wave. "See you later, then."
She nodded. "See you later."