Defying Gravity, 29/?, by ainsleyaisling

[ainsleyaisling]

Title: Defying Gravity, 29/?
Author: ainsleyaisling
Rating: PG
'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: Elphaba possibly should make a realization, but she doesn't. On the other hand, Glinda does.
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, plus the posted chapters of this story, can be found here. The previous chapter of this story can be found here.



~~Elphaba~~

"Elphaba!"

The giant golden head boomed her name across the throne room, but by the time the Wizard called, "Come on back here!" it was in his own somewhat reedy voice.

"Oh," Elphaba called back, pausing halfway to the throne. "All right."

She rounded the throne hesitantly, her boots loud on the metal panels that surrounded its base. The Wizard was standing over a small cauldron on a table with a glass dipper in his hands. He spun when he saw her and dripped a bit of something red on the marble floor. There was a slight smell of . . . nutmeg?

"Come in, come in," the Wizard said, wiping another drip of red liquid from the table with one finger. "I'm glad you came by."

"You're practicing chemistry?" Elphaba asked, still reluctant to get too close to the liquid.

The Wizard laughed. "In a way I suppose, though I'm really just investigating the results." He held the dipper in her direction. "Taste."

Elphaba automatically backed up, her head retreating on her neck until her chin practically touched her chest. "What is it?"

"It won't hurt you." When she continued to hesitate the Wizard said, "For heaven's sake, it's mulled wine, not crocodile blood. Taste it and tell me if it's right."

Bearing in mind that whatever his faults the Wizard had never yet tried to poison her, Elphaba took the glass handle of the dipper from his hand and sipped cautiously from it. Her lips pressed together immediately in response.

"Not enough sugar, is there?" the Wizard asked.

Pressing one hand to her mouth to hide as much of her impolite reaction as possible, Elphaba shook her head and carefully deposited the dipper into the cauldron.

"I thought not." The Wizard nodded his head toward a nearly invisible servants' door. "The head cook is a Quadling; I think they tend toward the bitter. But it's been years since I had a Munchkinland Midwinter and I wasn't sure I remembered right."

Elphaba licked her lips carefully. "I haven't had a Midwinter in Munchkinland for years either, but that's not right."

"I will tell them it needs more sugar." The Wizard beamed at her. "Now what can I do for you?"

"Why now?" Elphaba asked.

"Sorry?"

She gestured in the direction of the cauldron. "The Munchkinland Midwinter wine. Why now?"

"Oh." The Wizard's smile grew, though it looked slightly sheepish. "I thought we'd have a palace celebration. You know, with a little bit of everything from all the parts of Oz. Good idea?"

"I suppose?" Elphaba couldn't quite keep the frown of confusion off her face. "I'm sure everyone would enjoy that."

"I confess," the Wizard said, "I did need Madame Morrible to remind me that we have young ladies in the place these days and that we ought to be a bit more lively. Don't you agree?"

"Madame Morrible," Elphaba repeated.

The Wizard eyed her. "You could use a little liveliness yourself, you know."

"Oh, I think things are lively enough for me." She pushed a bit of hair behind her ears. "Can I ask a question?"

"Of course."

"Do you think the cold is a bit odd?" She waited, watching his face, then added, "At all?"

The Wizard's face stiffened in a strange way, though quickly enough he shook himself and smiled. "Odd?"

"It's not usually anywhere near this cold before Midwinter," Elphaba said. "But it's not just that. There's been practically no variation in the temperature, and no snow."

"Too cold to snow."

"I know. And that's - odd, before Midwinter. Not to mention it probably gets too cold to snow about . . . once in ten years, and usually just for a day or two."

The Wizard shook his head. "I don't understand - so it's cold. Where I come from we have whole winters where the cattle'd freeze to the fields if you weren't careful."

"But it's odd for here. You haven't wondered?"

"To be honest . . . no, I haven't." He tilted his head slightly. "Is that what you wanted to see me about?"

"No." By way of gathering her thoughts, Elphaba paused to look over at the cauldron of wine. "Have you spent much time in Munchkinland?"

"About a year's worth, I suppose. I wanted to learn all I could about Oz, to be the best Wizard I could possibly be." For the first time his smile appeared a bit tired. "Why?"

Elphaba almost, but didn't, ask about The Great Ozpin's career as a Munchkinland peddler. There were a few short steps behind the throne, mirroring the ones in front, and she carefully sat down on one of them and smoothed her skirts over her knees. "Will you tell me what you've heard about it lately?" she asked.

The Wizard looked at her for a long while, then took a seat near her but on a lower step. "What do you know?"

She shook her head. "Nothing but what you'd hear from the rumor mills and probably have. The difference between us is I don't know which rumors are true."

"And you think I do?"

Elphaba waited, looking at her crossed hands on her knees.

"Elphaba." He stared at her hands as well, as if there were something magic about them. "There are secrets in every government -"

"I understand that," she said, lifting her eyes to his face. "But some of what I hear concerns me, and I just need to say -"

He waited, then asked, "What?"

"My sister's no conspirator." Elphaba swallowed. "She doesn't have it in her. And she likes her place. She won't rock the boat."

The Wizard nodded slowly. "You really," he said, "make me wonder what you know."

"I know Nessa," Elphaba said. "That's all."

Another nod, his eyes fixed on hers. "I wish I could - you really do remind me of someone. But I don't -"

"Do I," Elphaba said. She drew in a short breath and held it, her chest stretching the rather unforgiving bodice of her dress. "I suppose you'd remember. If you'd ever met my family."

"I'd remember you," the Wizard said in a way that almost managed to avoid irony. "But I'm afraid I was never at the mansion until recently. I visited the Assembly a number of times, of course, but I believe you'd have been grown by then."

Elphaba shook her head, teeth worrying for a moment at her bottom lip. "Actually that doesn't necessarily matter," she said. "We didn't really live at the mansion until after my mother died. When she was alive we stayed in Colwen Grounds."

"Colwen . . ." The Wizard blinked and brought one hand to his mouth. "Now, I have been there. Not for many many years . . . a small village, isn't it, mostly big summer homes for the wealthy? I met the little ones first, you know, the ones in the village center - they kept referring to the people up in the hills as the 'Big Folk' and it took me a while to work out that they meant the people were bigger, not the houses . . ."

Elphaba waited until she was certain he wasn't going to continue. "That must have been your first time in Munchkinland," she commented. "If you didn't know there were big - I mean, tall Munchkinlanders."

The Wizard appeared taken aback. "You know, I think you must be right. I returned to Colwen Grounds a number of times, but when I first wandered in - yes, I suppose that may have been the first time I saw anyone but the farming Munchkins."

"They used to throw rocks at me." When the Wizard lifted an eyebrow she added, "I have a scar."

"Superstitious people." The Wizard shrugged. "Your mother didn't prefer to move you to the mansion?"

Elphaba shrugged back. "Guess not."

"She must have liked the country."

"I don't really know." Elphaba wrapped her arms around her knees and added, "Her name was Melena."

"Was it." A corner of the Wizard's mouth turned up. "Yes, that did seem to be a popular name. I recall meeting a few women with the same one - though the little ones seemed fonder of the variant, what was it - Amelene. Never would have known any of them was the Governor's wife . . ."

"Really she would have been just a lonely woman." Elphaba pressed her knees together. "Actually they threw rocks at me everywhere."

The Wizard laughed softly. "I'm sorry, Elphaba," he said. "It really was a very long time ago, and I met a lot of people . . ."

"I know." She got to her feet, hands still holding her skirts wrapped tightly around her knees. "Thank you - for listening, about Nessa."

"I'm sorry you didn't have more luck as a child," the Wizard said as she walked away. "You deserved better, you know?"

Elphaba half turned, her chin lifted. "I actually do know," she said. "Good night."

"Elphaba!"

She turned again to see the Wizard looking after her with an odd look on his face. "What?"

He was frozen for a moment, and the look didn't quite leave his face when he spoke. "Noth- I just, I had it. I mean for a moment, I think I . . ." Pressing his hands into his knees, he straightened up and said, "I'm an old man with an old man's memory I suppose, Elphaba. Seeing ghosts everywhere. You go on to bed. Tell Glinda I'll want her expertise - the gardener wants to know what kind of trees I want for Midwinter and -"

"Gillikin holiday trees?" Elphaba frowned. "Pine."

"Blue or green? Long needles or short? Conical or round?"

"I'll tell Glinda," Elphaba conceded. "Good night."

"Good night, Elphaba."

~~Glinda~~

"A Midwinter celebration?"

"With Gillikin pines and Munchkinland mulled wine, apparently, and who knows what else." Elphaba bent and picked up the cat, which was winding insistently around her ankles. He immediately began to swat at the loose ends of her hair. "It's going to be very ecumenical."

"And it was Morrible's idea." Glinda leaned against the back of the sofa, arms folded across her chest. "So the question is -"

"Why." Elphaba carefully held the cat a few inches away from her chest, until her hair fell away from his paws. "And what does it have to do with what she's been up to in all this time we haven't seen her."

"I don't like it," Glinda confessed. One hand rose to her mouth and she took a finger worriedly between her teeth, biting gently at the joint. The consistently nervous feeling in her stomach over the last few days was increasing in grade quickly.

"I don't like anything that's her idea, on principle," Elphaba said. "And I don't like that she suggested it's somehow because of us, even if it is for the whole palace."

"Me either." Glinda replaced the side of her finger in her mouth and dug her teeth in deeper, frowning at the sting.

"On the other hand," Elphaba said, "the Wizard seemed sincerely thrilled at the prospect of you helping him order a bunch of trees."

Glinda had to laugh a little, and the action jolted her finger from between her teeth. "I wonder," she said. "What Midwinter is like where he comes from. Whether he misses it. If I were suddenly in a different world, I would."

"He doesn't seem to miss much else about where he comes from," Elphaba commented. "I asked him about Munchkinland."

Glinda shook her head a little, not understanding. "And?"

Elphaba sighed and reached over to tip the cat into Glinda's arms. "He knew a lot of women named Melena. Though he did say he was in Colwen Grounds - his first time in Munchkinland, actually. That must have been before we were born."

"It would have been, if he wasn't the Wizard yet." At last Glinda worked out why Elphaba must have gone to the throne room. "What did he say about Nessa?"

Elphaba shook her head. "Nothing. He . . . he seemed strange. Almost - surprised, or - guilty, even."

"About Nessa?"

"No, when I was asking him about Colwen Grounds."

"Why would he -" A claw dug into Glinda's chest seemingly at the same moment that a thought, equally sharp, leapt to her mind. "Elphie."

"What?"

"Why would he feel guilty?"

Elphaba's face was uncomprehending. "I have no idea?"

"No, you wouldn't think of it." Thoughts reeling, Glinda dropped the cat onto the sofa. "Just - look at me."

"What?" Elphaba looked alarmed now. "Is something wrong?"

"No . . ." Glinda looked into Elphaba's concerned face and realized, fortunately in time, that this was the one thing she couldn't say without proof. Before she turned the world upside down she had to be sure. Though now that her eyes had been opened, it was exactly that - Elphaba's face - that told her, deep down, she was sure. Elphaba's piercing eyes were one of the few bits of her that weren't green, and they didn't show the marks of drink and hard life, but now that Glinda knew what she was looking for . . . and more, the sharp angles that didn't really belong on a Munchkinlander face. The side of Glinda's finger found its way back to her mouth until she had decided what to say. "You know, it's nothing. I'll go and see him tomorrow, about the trees."

"All right." Elphaba still seemed uncertain whether she should trust that nothing was wrong. "Any news from Fiyero?"

Glinda shook her head, relieved at the change in subject. "Nothing yet. But I heard some of the guards talking when I went out earlier - from one of the Munchkinlander units, they were saying the road is frozen solid."

"The Wizard's road?"

"And the rails," Glinda added. "Travel is completely stalled."

"Hmm," Elphaba said.

"Yes."

"Almost as if someone were trying to prevent messages from getting through . . ."

"Yes," Glinda agreed. "But which messages does she care about?"

"There are too many possibilities for me to even have a guess."

"And it's still possible," Glinda said, finally relaxing enough to actually sit on the sofa, "that she's just trying to cause some other mischief. Kill the fields or the animals or just make people really uncomfortable . . ."

"Right." Elphaba dropped onto the sofa beside her, her knees jiggling as she thought.

"Well." Glinda put a hand on one of Elphaba's knees until it stopped shaking, and the sofa with it. "It actually would be sort of nice to have a Midwinter celebration in the palace, if we could trust there was nothing dangerous about it."

"I wonder what they've done every other year - surely the servants and the Guards must have celebrated."

"In their own quarters though, maybe." The thought of inviting the luminaries of Oz to the palace for the season made Glinda's stomach worse, ironically because it seemed to suit the plan she was delicately forming in her mind and the idea of that plan actually succeeding made her queasy . . . but on the other hand . . . "The palace would be pretty, with the candles. And the trees."

"Enough of that mulled wine the cook was making, and anything would be pretty," Elphaba said. "But it might be nice."

"It should be - peaceful." Glinda twisted to look at Elphaba. "In Munchkinland do you go outside at midnight with candles?"

"We never did," Elphaba said after a moment's pause. "Nessa, you know. But the servants did, and I'd hear them outside the window and see the lights."

Something in Glinda's stomach turned over as - a consequence of her earlier realization - the one major flaw in her plan suddenly flashed into her mind. For a moment she started to think am I really not thinking of myself, or - but she didn't let her conscious mind finish the question. She'd known that Elphaba would be hurt, but that didn't mean that she didn't have to do it . . .

She reached over and took Elphaba's hand. "Well, we'll have a proper season this year, then. You ought to have Midwinter the way normal families do, at least once."

She felt Elphaba's laugh as a jolt where their shoulders touched. "I'm a little worried now," Elphaba said.

"Don't be mean." Glinda swallowed against the nervousness. "I'm good at decorating."

"Well," Elphaba said, leaning more firmly against her, "you'll tell the Wizard."

Glinda inhaled deeply. "Yes. I will have many things to tell the Wizard."