Defying Gravity 5/?, by ainsleyaisling
Title: Defying Gravity, 5/?
Author: ainsleyaisling
Rating: R, for violence
'Verse: Musical AU; some details from bookverse
Summary: Glinda and Elphaba - and Fiyero - working hand-in-hand, the way it was supposed to be . . . maybe . . .
This chapter: Glinda learns something disturbing, but what Elphaba learns is much worse.
Disclaimer: Wicked belongs mostly to Gregory Maguire, and musicalverse belongs to Stephen Schwartz, Winnie Holzman, and possibly Universal.
Notes: Sequel to "The Effects of Gravity," a link to all chapters of which can be found here. The previous chapter of this story can be found here.
~~Glinda~~
Although the Palace grounds had been put back to normal within a day, the market square still showed signs of the havoc wreaked by the storm. Damaged stalls had been more or less rebuilt, but many without canvas on the awnings and many patched up hastily with bits of scrap wood. A number of the farmers appeared to have a smaller stock than usual, and the square itself was still strewn with debris, fallen bits of tree branches, and gravel whipped up from the paths between the surrounding houses and gardens.
As Glinda picked her way around the mess on the ground, few of the citizens paid much attention to her. Most were trying to sweep up the small areas in front of their houses or stalls, scooping rock and leaf into piles and clearing deposits of dirt from the paved street. Several children were gathering the fallen tree limbs for firewood, the smallest ones scooping twigs and chips of bark into their aprons. Glinda bit her lip as a few of the adults caught her eye, and she nodded to them and resolved to try to tell the Wizard that he ought to try to help with the cleaning up in town. Or at least to tell Elphaba; maybe the Wizard would listen to her.
The conversation around the market was about what she had expected, although some of it quieted when the citizens caught sight of her. They were mostly confused and blamed the storm on a freak of nature, but a number expressed anger or at least displeasure with the "Wonderful Wizard" for abandoning them to pick up the pieces themselves. This was said generally in hushed, nervous tones, with frequent glances over their shoulders to see who might overhear. That, more than anything, made Glinda's stomach clench a little bit.
But it got worse. As she came around the corner of a stall selling slightly trampled-looking corn still in the husk, she heard a woman saying intently, "They say it weren't no natural storm, that. They say it was magic."
Glinda stopped behind the stall and held her breath, waiting. Was it possible that anyone might know what Morrible had done? Or guess that the damage in Munchkinland had been done on purpose? She couldn't decide whether she hoped or feared that someone would guess.
Another woman hummed wisely and said, "Well, it didn't look like no natural storm, did it? And the way it moved."
"They say it was her," the first woman said. "You know. We didn't used to have trouble like this, before she came."
"Others did," a male voice rumbled. "You know we've been hearing about strange occurrences in the provinces for years."
"But not here, not in the City." The first woman's voice dropped to a whisper. "Not till her."
"Her?"
"The Witch," the two women hissed together. The first continued, "People say it's awful suspicious, barely been here a fortnight and bam! Unnatural happenings practically tearing the place apart."
Glinda held herself very still, half frightened that her heart would leap out of her chest.
"And you notice it was Munchkinland she went after," one of the women murmured. "You know that's where she's from. I heard it down the pub. She's got something against them, that's what I'd say."
The unfairness of all of this being laid at Elphaba's door when it was all Glinda's fault, really, and when Morrible had done it in the first place, half-choked Glinda. Her throat tightened further and further as the unseen women discarded the idea that "the little one" might have had anything to do with any unnatural happenings. A witch certainly, but a benign one, practically a fairy queen, parlor tricks and pretty charms, that was what they thought of her. One of them had just begun to whisper, "But you know, they say -" when Glinda stepped around the corner and said hello with a beaming smile.
The women froze and went pale. Their companion, a tall man who appeared to have some Quadling blood in him, turned on the spot and disappeared into the market crowd.
Glinda continued to give her most charming smile, fighting to keep even the smallest hint of a threat out of it, and asked, "What do they say?"
One of the women coughed. The other said, "Excuse me?"
Glinda let her smile deepen, feeling her dimpling cheeks ache with the effort. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to overhear," she said. "But it sounded as if maybe you had a question for me." She made the statement itself a question, accompanied by a curious look and a gentle nod.
"Well." The woman looked to her companion for assistance and, seeing none, said, "We were just discussing your arrival, miss, yours and - hers."
Elphaba's name was known in the town, Glinda knew that, as well as her own, but the Palace had taken to referring to them merely as "the witches." She suspected this was because they wanted everyone to forget that Elphaba at least had a name at all, that she was anything other than a threat, witch, other. Her smile didn't falter. "I see," she said. "It was rather startling, to have something like this happen so soon after my arrival." Her careful eyes saw a flickering change in the women's expressions, and she continued, "I was in the market when the storm hit, you know, and it was really terrifying."
"So you don't think she did it?" The woman who had blurted out the question looked horrified with herself, her hand clutched over her mouth and her wide eyes looking as if she expected Glinda to hex her. Or, more likely, as if she expected Elphaba to appear out of nowhere and do it. Glinda sighed.
"No," she said. "Elphaba didn't have anything to do with that storm. She would never do something like that, and she wouldn't risk hurting me in any case."
"So." The other woman, the one who didn't have a hand pressed over her lips as if her life depended on it, lifted her chin a bit and smiled at Glinda. "So it's true, what they say. That you're her . . ."
"Her . . ." Glinda frowned for a moment, but the expression in the woman's eyes made her meaning clear enough. So that rumor had been spread outside the Palace. Well. Glinda felt her own chin lifting in response. There couldn't be seen to be any rift between them; she and Elphaba had to be absolutely united. "Is that what you believe?" she asked.
The woman did look a bit more frightened now, but she held her ground. "I guess I believe it same as anybody else," she said. "Isn't it true?"
"Yes," Glinda said sharply, her teeth closing over the word like a cat's hiss. She was surprised by how defensive she suddenly felt, how oddly territorial. "Yes. She's mine." She had the strangest sense of satisfaction as the women's eyes widened. For the sake of Elphaba's reputation, in the hopes of quashing any rumors about her violence, she added, "And I wouldn't believe anyone who tells you anything else. She protects me, and I protect her. She didn't do this."
She watched with that same peculiar satisfaction settling around her, as they nodded and hurried away. They'd tell others; she was sure. It was somewhat disturbing that the City had already heard the rumors about herself and Elphaba being lovers, but not really surprising. No doubt the Palace had quietly let that leak, or else some of the more well-informed Guards had talked at the pubs. If it helped convince the citizens that the witches were united, and that Glinda cheerfully chose her connection with Elphaba, maybe that would be enough.
Now she just had to explain to Elphaba.
~~Fiyero~~
He'd never know for certain why, as he marched his men through the streets of the City self-consciously, trying both to maintain order and not look as if he took himself too seriously, he suddenly remembered telling Elphaba that there was nothing urgent about the situation of the Animals in Oz. That it wasn't getting worse for anyone. That it wouldn't matter if she waited, rested, took her time. The memory of their conversation flashed into his mind moments before he heard the shout of men further on in the maze of streets, Guards apparently summoning assistance from the rest of their unit. He didn't have to give an order; as soon as he started running the rest of his men followed.
The first thing he noticed upon reaching the small alley where the Guards had gathered was that they had somehow managed to form a circle - or something that gave the appearance of a circle, though it was really just a gang - despite the awkward shape of the alley. The second thing that slowly filtered through his consciousness was that they were not shouting for help, or in alarm, or in any other kind of urgency. They were shouting insults, the ugliest language he'd heard in some time, jeering, some shrieking with laughter. He couldn't imagine what could be the focus of such vitriol, such hatred and lewdness and obscenity. The actual language used gave him no clue; it referenced only general dirt and indecency and perversion.
Then he saw what they had surrounded. It was a fox, or, more accurately, from the way they were shouting and the way its wide, intelligent, terrified eyes were darting around the circle, a Fox. There were not supposed to be Animals left in the Emerald City, or at least not in the upscale residential districts. This one had obviously been caught out - either it had been hiding out all along in disguise as a common fox, or perhaps it had snuck into this neighborhood in search of food. Regardless, all the Guards had orders to arrest on sight any unauthorized Animals. The jeering seemed more than unnecessary; in fact, Fiyero discovered that his hand had involuntarily closed on his rifle in the shock of his disturbed reaction to the anger of his fellow Guards.
Then he saw what the Fox was really afraid of.
The Guards were bad enough, but only a handful of them even had their rifles and bayonets drawn, just enough to keep the Animal from escaping. The Fox's terrified eyes and its garbled, incoherent pleading, barely distinguishable from the shrieks and chatter of an ordinary fox, were turned toward the pair of enormous dogs being kept barely in check by two of the Guards. These, Fiyero knew instinctively, were no Dogs. Their eyes and expressions showed only hunger, nature, and instinct; there was no intelligence there, or no more than might be seen in the average well-trained dog. And he wasn't secure at all in his suspicion of what exactly these dogs had been trained for.
The entire scene was utterly surreal - the shouts and laughter of the Guards, the two at the back of the circle casually passing a cigarette back and forth as they jeered the frightened Animal, the pleas of the Fox, the nervous glances of citizens on the street as they took in the sight and quickly scurried away, hiding their faces in cloaks and hats and baskets of fruit from the nearby market. Behind him, Fiyero's men shifted. They didn't know, he realized, how their leader would react, or what he would tell them to do.
He didn't know either.
The captain who seemed to be in charge at the scene saw him then, and ducked his head in an informal half-salute. "Ho there," he called. "No help needed, though you're welcome to stay for the show. It's rare we find one of 'em anymore."
"The show?" Fiyero managed to ask.
The other man winked at him, audaciously. "Who d'you think cares what happens to these, huh? What the Wizard doesn't know . . ."
Fiyero felt suddenly sick. His fingers tightened on the grip of his rifle as he tried, desperately, to think of something to do. A distraction? Anything? Elphaba would know. The words throbbed through his head, increasing his nausea tenfold. She'd do something.
The Fox's glance darted his way and its eyes seemed to burn into Fiyero's. He felt himself beginning to sweat. He turned over his shoulder and said low and fast to the two nearest of his men, "Run into the next street and fire your guns. Straight into the air, careful. Then run a block further and fire again. Go!"
The two frightened-looking men took off, not looking back. Ignorant of their departure the men in the circle increased the volume of their shouting, their laughter and cruel jokes. In a horrified instant Fiyero realized that any diversion his men would be able to create would be too late. His feet froze themselves to the ground and he prayed, sweat pouring down his face, listening for a rifle shot. It came, at almost the same instant that the Guards released their dogs.
His eyes filled with sweat or tears and his teeth clenched unwillingly as he watched, unable to tear his eyes away and feeling, somehow, that he deserved the punishment of watching, for his failure to interrupt, to find a way of saving the terrified Fox despite his junior status, without losing his cover, without betraying himself as a traitor.
The dogs were savage and complete. Fiyero's jaw tightened further and he tasted blood even as the Fox's painted the ground. Then he glanced to his right, toward the street, and saw something even worse, something that nearly made his throat close completely.
Elphaba.
Her face was sickly pale, and her horror-stricken eyes riveted to the scene in front of her. What hellish coincidence had led her there he didn't stop to question. There wasn't time; half of the men had already seen her.
The fast thinking he had not been able to manage a moment ago came through for him this time, and his tongue unknotted itself. "Sir!" he called, elbowing his way up to the captain, trying to ignore the last desperate, helpless cries of the Fox at their feet. "She shouldn't be here, she'll get us all in trouble. I'll take care of it, she knows me, I can handle her."
The captain actually looked a little afraid of Elphaba, which was wise of him. "Good for you," he said uneasily, calm already returning to his voice, as if some of the fun of the afternoon's torture had faded. "Get her to the Palace and tell her something, keep 'er quiet."
Fiyero nodded regardless of the ridiculousness of the suggestion, and said quickly, "Release my men, send them back to barracks." Then he ran for Elphaba, who was still standing motionless on the street, fixated on the gory spectacle of the Fox's final moments, one hand - sweet Oz - actually reaching to push up her sleeve. He could only imagine what she was planning.
"Elphaba, no!" he shouted as he reached her side. "We're getting out of here, you have to come with me, come on."
Her face seemed to thaw suddenly and she appeared to recognize him for the first time. "But . . ." Her mouth pressed shut and tears began to well up visibly in her eyes.
He grabbed her shoulders and dragged her around the corner of the nearest building, out of sight of the alley. "Listen to me," he said, digging his fingers into her arms. "You can't let them see you react. You're strong, you're hard, you're terrifying - you're a witch. You can't let them see you."
He could see that she was gritting her teeth in reflexive obedience, but she stammered one more time, "But - the -"
"You can't help it," he said, feeling his own throat choke with tears and swallowing desperately. "It's dead, Elphie, it has to be, you can't help it now. Neither of us can. You have to come with me, please, if you want to be able to help the others - if you don't want to end up the same . . ." He hadn't meant to suggest anything like that, but she didn't seem to have heard anyway. Just enough of his words seemed to have penetrated her consciousness that she let him drag her away, hand clasping her arm tightly, through the crowded streets. With her free hand she drew up the hood of her cloak and hid her face in it as they ran.
Instinct pulled him past the staircase that would have led them up to Elphaba and Glinda's rooms. "You don't want to tell her about this, do you?" he asked, already knowing the answer. Elphaba shook her head furiously without speaking, and they continued on their mad dash through the Palace halls toward the officers' barracks, near the kitchens on the ground floor.
Private quarters, small though they might be, were one of the few advantages granted to members of the royal families of Oz. Without bothering to consult her he pulled Elphaba into his room and slammed and latched the door behind them.
Her hood fell away as he turned to face her, and her hands flew up to cover her tear-stained face. He crossed the room in three steps and wrapped his arms around her just as she began to sob.
Author: ainsleyaisling
Rating: R, for violence
'Verse: Musical AU; some details from bookverse
Summary: Glinda and Elphaba - and Fiyero - working hand-in-hand, the way it was supposed to be . . . maybe . . .
This chapter: Glinda learns something disturbing, but what Elphaba learns is much worse.
Disclaimer: Wicked belongs mostly to Gregory Maguire, and musicalverse belongs to Stephen Schwartz, Winnie Holzman, and possibly Universal.
Notes: Sequel to "The Effects of Gravity," a link to all chapters of which can be found here. The previous chapter of this story can be found here.
~~Glinda~~
Although the Palace grounds had been put back to normal within a day, the market square still showed signs of the havoc wreaked by the storm. Damaged stalls had been more or less rebuilt, but many without canvas on the awnings and many patched up hastily with bits of scrap wood. A number of the farmers appeared to have a smaller stock than usual, and the square itself was still strewn with debris, fallen bits of tree branches, and gravel whipped up from the paths between the surrounding houses and gardens.
As Glinda picked her way around the mess on the ground, few of the citizens paid much attention to her. Most were trying to sweep up the small areas in front of their houses or stalls, scooping rock and leaf into piles and clearing deposits of dirt from the paved street. Several children were gathering the fallen tree limbs for firewood, the smallest ones scooping twigs and chips of bark into their aprons. Glinda bit her lip as a few of the adults caught her eye, and she nodded to them and resolved to try to tell the Wizard that he ought to try to help with the cleaning up in town. Or at least to tell Elphaba; maybe the Wizard would listen to her.
The conversation around the market was about what she had expected, although some of it quieted when the citizens caught sight of her. They were mostly confused and blamed the storm on a freak of nature, but a number expressed anger or at least displeasure with the "Wonderful Wizard" for abandoning them to pick up the pieces themselves. This was said generally in hushed, nervous tones, with frequent glances over their shoulders to see who might overhear. That, more than anything, made Glinda's stomach clench a little bit.
But it got worse. As she came around the corner of a stall selling slightly trampled-looking corn still in the husk, she heard a woman saying intently, "They say it weren't no natural storm, that. They say it was magic."
Glinda stopped behind the stall and held her breath, waiting. Was it possible that anyone might know what Morrible had done? Or guess that the damage in Munchkinland had been done on purpose? She couldn't decide whether she hoped or feared that someone would guess.
Another woman hummed wisely and said, "Well, it didn't look like no natural storm, did it? And the way it moved."
"They say it was her," the first woman said. "You know. We didn't used to have trouble like this, before she came."
"Others did," a male voice rumbled. "You know we've been hearing about strange occurrences in the provinces for years."
"But not here, not in the City." The first woman's voice dropped to a whisper. "Not till her."
"Her?"
"The Witch," the two women hissed together. The first continued, "People say it's awful suspicious, barely been here a fortnight and bam! Unnatural happenings practically tearing the place apart."
Glinda held herself very still, half frightened that her heart would leap out of her chest.
"And you notice it was Munchkinland she went after," one of the women murmured. "You know that's where she's from. I heard it down the pub. She's got something against them, that's what I'd say."
The unfairness of all of this being laid at Elphaba's door when it was all Glinda's fault, really, and when Morrible had done it in the first place, half-choked Glinda. Her throat tightened further and further as the unseen women discarded the idea that "the little one" might have had anything to do with any unnatural happenings. A witch certainly, but a benign one, practically a fairy queen, parlor tricks and pretty charms, that was what they thought of her. One of them had just begun to whisper, "But you know, they say -" when Glinda stepped around the corner and said hello with a beaming smile.
The women froze and went pale. Their companion, a tall man who appeared to have some Quadling blood in him, turned on the spot and disappeared into the market crowd.
Glinda continued to give her most charming smile, fighting to keep even the smallest hint of a threat out of it, and asked, "What do they say?"
One of the women coughed. The other said, "Excuse me?"
Glinda let her smile deepen, feeling her dimpling cheeks ache with the effort. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to overhear," she said. "But it sounded as if maybe you had a question for me." She made the statement itself a question, accompanied by a curious look and a gentle nod.
"Well." The woman looked to her companion for assistance and, seeing none, said, "We were just discussing your arrival, miss, yours and - hers."
Elphaba's name was known in the town, Glinda knew that, as well as her own, but the Palace had taken to referring to them merely as "the witches." She suspected this was because they wanted everyone to forget that Elphaba at least had a name at all, that she was anything other than a threat, witch, other. Her smile didn't falter. "I see," she said. "It was rather startling, to have something like this happen so soon after my arrival." Her careful eyes saw a flickering change in the women's expressions, and she continued, "I was in the market when the storm hit, you know, and it was really terrifying."
"So you don't think she did it?" The woman who had blurted out the question looked horrified with herself, her hand clutched over her mouth and her wide eyes looking as if she expected Glinda to hex her. Or, more likely, as if she expected Elphaba to appear out of nowhere and do it. Glinda sighed.
"No," she said. "Elphaba didn't have anything to do with that storm. She would never do something like that, and she wouldn't risk hurting me in any case."
"So." The other woman, the one who didn't have a hand pressed over her lips as if her life depended on it, lifted her chin a bit and smiled at Glinda. "So it's true, what they say. That you're her . . ."
"Her . . ." Glinda frowned for a moment, but the expression in the woman's eyes made her meaning clear enough. So that rumor had been spread outside the Palace. Well. Glinda felt her own chin lifting in response. There couldn't be seen to be any rift between them; she and Elphaba had to be absolutely united. "Is that what you believe?" she asked.
The woman did look a bit more frightened now, but she held her ground. "I guess I believe it same as anybody else," she said. "Isn't it true?"
"Yes," Glinda said sharply, her teeth closing over the word like a cat's hiss. She was surprised by how defensive she suddenly felt, how oddly territorial. "Yes. She's mine." She had the strangest sense of satisfaction as the women's eyes widened. For the sake of Elphaba's reputation, in the hopes of quashing any rumors about her violence, she added, "And I wouldn't believe anyone who tells you anything else. She protects me, and I protect her. She didn't do this."
She watched with that same peculiar satisfaction settling around her, as they nodded and hurried away. They'd tell others; she was sure. It was somewhat disturbing that the City had already heard the rumors about herself and Elphaba being lovers, but not really surprising. No doubt the Palace had quietly let that leak, or else some of the more well-informed Guards had talked at the pubs. If it helped convince the citizens that the witches were united, and that Glinda cheerfully chose her connection with Elphaba, maybe that would be enough.
Now she just had to explain to Elphaba.
~~Fiyero~~
He'd never know for certain why, as he marched his men through the streets of the City self-consciously, trying both to maintain order and not look as if he took himself too seriously, he suddenly remembered telling Elphaba that there was nothing urgent about the situation of the Animals in Oz. That it wasn't getting worse for anyone. That it wouldn't matter if she waited, rested, took her time. The memory of their conversation flashed into his mind moments before he heard the shout of men further on in the maze of streets, Guards apparently summoning assistance from the rest of their unit. He didn't have to give an order; as soon as he started running the rest of his men followed.
The first thing he noticed upon reaching the small alley where the Guards had gathered was that they had somehow managed to form a circle - or something that gave the appearance of a circle, though it was really just a gang - despite the awkward shape of the alley. The second thing that slowly filtered through his consciousness was that they were not shouting for help, or in alarm, or in any other kind of urgency. They were shouting insults, the ugliest language he'd heard in some time, jeering, some shrieking with laughter. He couldn't imagine what could be the focus of such vitriol, such hatred and lewdness and obscenity. The actual language used gave him no clue; it referenced only general dirt and indecency and perversion.
Then he saw what they had surrounded. It was a fox, or, more accurately, from the way they were shouting and the way its wide, intelligent, terrified eyes were darting around the circle, a Fox. There were not supposed to be Animals left in the Emerald City, or at least not in the upscale residential districts. This one had obviously been caught out - either it had been hiding out all along in disguise as a common fox, or perhaps it had snuck into this neighborhood in search of food. Regardless, all the Guards had orders to arrest on sight any unauthorized Animals. The jeering seemed more than unnecessary; in fact, Fiyero discovered that his hand had involuntarily closed on his rifle in the shock of his disturbed reaction to the anger of his fellow Guards.
Then he saw what the Fox was really afraid of.
The Guards were bad enough, but only a handful of them even had their rifles and bayonets drawn, just enough to keep the Animal from escaping. The Fox's terrified eyes and its garbled, incoherent pleading, barely distinguishable from the shrieks and chatter of an ordinary fox, were turned toward the pair of enormous dogs being kept barely in check by two of the Guards. These, Fiyero knew instinctively, were no Dogs. Their eyes and expressions showed only hunger, nature, and instinct; there was no intelligence there, or no more than might be seen in the average well-trained dog. And he wasn't secure at all in his suspicion of what exactly these dogs had been trained for.
The entire scene was utterly surreal - the shouts and laughter of the Guards, the two at the back of the circle casually passing a cigarette back and forth as they jeered the frightened Animal, the pleas of the Fox, the nervous glances of citizens on the street as they took in the sight and quickly scurried away, hiding their faces in cloaks and hats and baskets of fruit from the nearby market. Behind him, Fiyero's men shifted. They didn't know, he realized, how their leader would react, or what he would tell them to do.
He didn't know either.
The captain who seemed to be in charge at the scene saw him then, and ducked his head in an informal half-salute. "Ho there," he called. "No help needed, though you're welcome to stay for the show. It's rare we find one of 'em anymore."
"The show?" Fiyero managed to ask.
The other man winked at him, audaciously. "Who d'you think cares what happens to these, huh? What the Wizard doesn't know . . ."
Fiyero felt suddenly sick. His fingers tightened on the grip of his rifle as he tried, desperately, to think of something to do. A distraction? Anything? Elphaba would know. The words throbbed through his head, increasing his nausea tenfold. She'd do something.
The Fox's glance darted his way and its eyes seemed to burn into Fiyero's. He felt himself beginning to sweat. He turned over his shoulder and said low and fast to the two nearest of his men, "Run into the next street and fire your guns. Straight into the air, careful. Then run a block further and fire again. Go!"
The two frightened-looking men took off, not looking back. Ignorant of their departure the men in the circle increased the volume of their shouting, their laughter and cruel jokes. In a horrified instant Fiyero realized that any diversion his men would be able to create would be too late. His feet froze themselves to the ground and he prayed, sweat pouring down his face, listening for a rifle shot. It came, at almost the same instant that the Guards released their dogs.
His eyes filled with sweat or tears and his teeth clenched unwillingly as he watched, unable to tear his eyes away and feeling, somehow, that he deserved the punishment of watching, for his failure to interrupt, to find a way of saving the terrified Fox despite his junior status, without losing his cover, without betraying himself as a traitor.
The dogs were savage and complete. Fiyero's jaw tightened further and he tasted blood even as the Fox's painted the ground. Then he glanced to his right, toward the street, and saw something even worse, something that nearly made his throat close completely.
Elphaba.
Her face was sickly pale, and her horror-stricken eyes riveted to the scene in front of her. What hellish coincidence had led her there he didn't stop to question. There wasn't time; half of the men had already seen her.
The fast thinking he had not been able to manage a moment ago came through for him this time, and his tongue unknotted itself. "Sir!" he called, elbowing his way up to the captain, trying to ignore the last desperate, helpless cries of the Fox at their feet. "She shouldn't be here, she'll get us all in trouble. I'll take care of it, she knows me, I can handle her."
The captain actually looked a little afraid of Elphaba, which was wise of him. "Good for you," he said uneasily, calm already returning to his voice, as if some of the fun of the afternoon's torture had faded. "Get her to the Palace and tell her something, keep 'er quiet."
Fiyero nodded regardless of the ridiculousness of the suggestion, and said quickly, "Release my men, send them back to barracks." Then he ran for Elphaba, who was still standing motionless on the street, fixated on the gory spectacle of the Fox's final moments, one hand - sweet Oz - actually reaching to push up her sleeve. He could only imagine what she was planning.
"Elphaba, no!" he shouted as he reached her side. "We're getting out of here, you have to come with me, come on."
Her face seemed to thaw suddenly and she appeared to recognize him for the first time. "But . . ." Her mouth pressed shut and tears began to well up visibly in her eyes.
He grabbed her shoulders and dragged her around the corner of the nearest building, out of sight of the alley. "Listen to me," he said, digging his fingers into her arms. "You can't let them see you react. You're strong, you're hard, you're terrifying - you're a witch. You can't let them see you."
He could see that she was gritting her teeth in reflexive obedience, but she stammered one more time, "But - the -"
"You can't help it," he said, feeling his own throat choke with tears and swallowing desperately. "It's dead, Elphie, it has to be, you can't help it now. Neither of us can. You have to come with me, please, if you want to be able to help the others - if you don't want to end up the same . . ." He hadn't meant to suggest anything like that, but she didn't seem to have heard anyway. Just enough of his words seemed to have penetrated her consciousness that she let him drag her away, hand clasping her arm tightly, through the crowded streets. With her free hand she drew up the hood of her cloak and hid her face in it as they ran.
Instinct pulled him past the staircase that would have led them up to Elphaba and Glinda's rooms. "You don't want to tell her about this, do you?" he asked, already knowing the answer. Elphaba shook her head furiously without speaking, and they continued on their mad dash through the Palace halls toward the officers' barracks, near the kitchens on the ground floor.
Private quarters, small though they might be, were one of the few advantages granted to members of the royal families of Oz. Without bothering to consult her he pulled Elphaba into his room and slammed and latched the door behind them.
Her hood fell away as he turned to face her, and her hands flew up to cover her tear-stained face. He crossed the room in three steps and wrapped his arms around her just as she began to sob.