Defying Gravity, 30/?, by ainsleyaisling
Title: Defying Gravity, 30/?
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: Glinda v. the Wizard.
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.
Even More Notes: A Glinda-centric chapter for Christmas Eve. Have a merry one if you celebrate.
~~Glinda~~
Unlike Elphaba, who had long ago begun to feel as if she had some right to be in the throne room, however awkward her encounters with the Wizard might be, Glinda still tiptoed in as if the sound of her heels on the marble might cause the entire Palace to fall down. Of course, if she was right, Elphaba did have a right to be in the throne room. Glinda pushed that thought aside. She called out as she approached the throne itself to warn of her approach. "Your Ozn-"
"Glinda?" the Wizard called in the wake of her startled cutoff. "Come on back."
Glinda rounded the throne wide-eyed, focused on the forest that seemed suddenly to have grown up behind the throne. "These are - a lot of trees, your Ozness."
"Nice, huh?" The Wizard clapped his hands together gleefully.
"Where did they all come from?" Still somewhat in shock, Glinda approached the trees - which, she could now see, were not growing in the throne room but in fact sat in individual pots on the marble floor.
"From Gillikin, obviously," the Wizard said. "Except those three on the left, those are from northern Munchkinland."
"But - how did you get them here? In one day?"
"Ah, there I had some assistance. Madame Morrible somewhat expedited the process of bringing them all here." He grinned and waved a gloved hand at the trees. "So, which one?"
"Um," Glinda said.
"I mean, which is the closest to the perfectly ideal Midwinter tree? Whichever one you like, we'll get dozens just like it for the rest of the Palace. And I think we should have a positively enormous one out in the throne room, don't you?"
A number of thoughts wheeled through Glinda's mind; the one she chose to express was, "For whom?"
The Wizard wagged a finger at her, his grin only growing. "Aha, fair point. I thought we could have a party - I'd be in disguise of course, but we could have some of the cream of the crop of Oz in here, don't you think? And otherwise just for us!"
"I see." Glinda frowned at the Wizard, then at the collection of trees, then back at the Wizard. He faced her scrutiny unblinkingly, which gave her an excellent view of his eyes, the chin and cheekbones somewhat disguised by middle-aged paunch, the high bridge of his nose. She took a deep breath. "I have something to talk to you about."
He folded his hands over his stomach as if prepared to take her very seriously. "What is that, my dear?"
Swallowing hard, Glinda turned away from him as she spoke and began thoughtfully to walk among the trees set out for her inspection. "You told Elphaba yesterday that you'd spent some time in Colwen Grounds. That you knew a number of women with her mother's name."
"Yes," he said. "I told her the truth."
"I believe you did," Glinda said, reaching out a finger to touch the end of a branch on one of the trees. "I just don't think you told her the entire truth."
"Now, Glinda -"
"I haven't said anything to her." Glinda circled the tree, bending close for a moment to breathe in the smell. "But here's what I think. I believe you did know a lot of women named Melena in Munchkinland, but I think you knew one of them a lot better than the others." She took another deep breath of pine and waited.
"Glinda," the Wizard said, his tone placating. "You and I - we're men of the world, if you'll pardon the expression. There are things Elphaba wouldn't . . ."
"I know," Glinda said. Her fingers tangled absently in the branches of a long-needled pine, a cluster of the needles coming off in her hand. Too long. "But you're right, I would."
"So you know." He shrugged. "Honestly, it doesn't help. If I thought there were any way of knowing if I'd met her mother - I know what it would mean to her -"
"I think there is a way of knowing," Glinda said. She paused between two bluish pines, her ankles wobbling. "I think I can prove to you that you knew her." She reached into the deep pocket of her full skirt and pulled out a green bottle.
The Wizard sighed. "You and Elphaba have both -"
"I think we all know you sold it to her mother," Glinda interrupted. "You weren't on any . . . political research mission - or maybe you were, but on the surface you were a peddler, and you sold it to her."
"Glinda -"
"No need to ask how I know, but I do know." Glinda took a deep breath. "The question is - why did her mother keep it? Why keep one of the bottles, years after you stopped visiting?"
The Wizard shrugged. "It's pretty."
Glinda held it up to the light. "Yes, it is. But I don't think that's why."
"Glinda, dear, I'm afraid I'm really not following you."
Glinda looked at him carefully, with her eyes narrowed, though her fingers continued to feel through the needles on one of the blue pines. She felt a trace of sticky sap cling to one of her fingertips. "Your Ozness," she said firmly, "she kept it as a memento, didn't she?"
He shook his head, his expression becoming helpless. "I have no way of knowing that."
"You're right, I suppose," Glinda said, nodding. "After all, you didn't come back. How would you know what she did?"
"Or what anyone did," he pointed out reasonably.
"Right." Glinda rubbed her fingers together to remove the sap and took another tack. "Were any of them pregnant - the women you sold your elixir to?" She held the bottle to the light again as she said it.
The Wizard winced slightly. "Glinda -"
"We are men of the world, aren't we?"
He sighed. "No, they were not. Where I come from - well, let's say the elixir is somewhat of an intoxicant, and a lot of folks don't hold with women drinking when they're . . . expecting. They think it does things to the child."
The last piece dropped into place in Glinda's mind so hard that she nearly staggered. The Wizard had begun to look at her strangely by the time she spoke again. "Could - could you be sure, though? Absolutely sure, that none of them were?"
"I suppose not." The Wizard sat down on one of the stairs behind his throne. "But why are we talking about this?"
"Because you knew a woman named Melena in Colwen Grounds very, very well," Glinda said, the last revelation still reeling in her mind. "And you gave her green elixir from another world. And when her child was born -"
She didn't have to say anything else, because all the color had, somewhat ironically, drained from the Wizard's face. He opened his mouth, but didn't seem able to speak.
"Yes," Glinda said. His flabbergasted expression gave her confidence. "I'm sorry, did you think Munchkinland suddenly producing a green child was a coincidence?"
"Glinda." The Wizard stopped, took a visibly deep breath, and paused. "Glinda. If - if she's my fault -"
Glinda blinked at him. "I'm afraid she's more than your fault, your Ozness."
"What?"
"Did you think she favored her father, when you met him?"
The Wizard's brow furrowed in confusion. "I did at first, but I think it was only his manner. In the end I suppose not. Why?"
"Because she doesn't actually look much like a Munchkinlander, you know." Glinda abandoned the trees and folded her hands in front of her stomach. "And she's - she has this power, that no one's ever had. No one in Oz - you know that."
"Yes." The Wizard shook his head, beginning to sound desperate. "Glinda, you ought to know by now, that elixir isn't really magic."
"In your world it wasn't," Glinda said. "Here, who's to say? But she had more than the elixir - have you really not guessed?"
"Guessed what?"
"Her father isn't her father, your Ozness," Glinda said softly. One of her ankles wobbled again as she prepared to deliver her final blow. "You knew her mother - though I believe you had no way of knowing she was the Governor's wife, I honestly do. You knew her, and then you stopped visiting, and shortly after the last time you visited, she had a green child with powers that don't come from this world. A child with your eyes and your nose, your Ozness." Her voice, already soft, dropped further. "She's not your fault - she's yours."
The Wizard sat frozen, in absolute silence.
Glinda turned away from him, walking amongst the three trees from Munchkinland. "I know," she said. "I felt exactly the same when I figured it out. I'm a little surprised you didn't - though I suppose you've never seen the two of you together, and I have."
"Proof," the Wizard said finally, his voice low and shaky. "You said you could prove it . . ."
"Well." Glinda rounded the last of the Munchkinland trees and looked at him again. He was so pale and trembly that she began to feel actual sympathy. "I don't mean I have hard evidence other than - her. Do you really think it isn't obvious?" As he began to open his mouth, she realized what the feeling was - if, despite everything he'd done, despite how little she trusted him . . . She held up a hand to forestall whatever he was about to say. "May I ask one question? Would it matter?"
He shook his head in confusion. "Sorry?"
"If she were yours - would it matter to you?"
He drew in a breath that she could hear, and sat somewhat taller on his stair. "Of course it would."
"And . . ." She abandoned the trees and went to sit on a step near him, sympathy now dominating her feeling toward him. "If you had known, at the time - before she was born, I mean -"
"Aside from the fact that making myself known would probably have gotten me killed by the Governor?" The Wizard let out a small, shaky laugh. "I'd have - yes, I'd have done something. I'd have wanted to keep an eye on her, anyway - of course."
Glinda nodded and tucked her dress around her knees. "Do you really need more proof?" she asked.
The Wizard was quiet for a long while. "I - I guess not. No."
"I'm sorry," she said.
"For what?" He sighed. "You only - I had to know. I'm glad I know . . ."
"For enjoying it," Glinda said. "A little."
The Wizard laughed again. "So. You - you haven't told her."
"No," Glinda said. She smoothed her skirts over her knees, disposing of nonexistent wrinkles. "I'm not - I'm not enjoying it that way. With regard to her. She's - I don't know what she's going to think."
He nodded in resignation. "You are going to tell her."
"Oh, no, your Ozness," Glinda said quietly.
He sat upright in surprise. "What?"
"No, you are."
Under other circumstances the fear that widened his eyes would have been truly entertaining. "Glinda -"
"It's not my business," she said. "I'm not her father."
"But you're -"
She shook her head. "I'm sorry, your Ozness. You have to talk to her about this." She got to her feet and ambled thoughtfully toward the most brilliantly green tree - not emerald, but a real forest pine. "You almost locked her up."
"I couldn't have known." He paused. "You didn't know, it can't have been that obvious. It took you years."
"Yes, it did." Glinda frowned, reaching out to brush the short needles on the tree. "Of course I didn't know you'd had a lover in Munchkinland twenty years ago that you plied with magical green liquor."
"It's not magic!"
"I think we have some evidence that it must be." After throwing him a look over her shoulder, Glinda patted the outer branches of the tree. "This one."
"Sorry?"
"This tree." She turned, a half smile on her face. "It's perfect."
The Wizard stood up, visibly pulling himself together at the same time. "Thank you."
"Talk to Elphaba."
"After Midwinter."
"Your Oz-"
He cut her off with an upraised palm. "After Midwinter, Glinda. Let her enjoy herself a little?"
It gave her pause, but she had to admit he was right. After all, she'd been thinking the same thing - let Elphaba have a normal holiday, for once. She nodded. "After Midwinter."
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: Glinda v. the Wizard.
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.
Even More Notes: A Glinda-centric chapter for Christmas Eve. Have a merry one if you celebrate.
~~Glinda~~
Unlike Elphaba, who had long ago begun to feel as if she had some right to be in the throne room, however awkward her encounters with the Wizard might be, Glinda still tiptoed in as if the sound of her heels on the marble might cause the entire Palace to fall down. Of course, if she was right, Elphaba did have a right to be in the throne room. Glinda pushed that thought aside. She called out as she approached the throne itself to warn of her approach. "Your Ozn-"
"Glinda?" the Wizard called in the wake of her startled cutoff. "Come on back."
Glinda rounded the throne wide-eyed, focused on the forest that seemed suddenly to have grown up behind the throne. "These are - a lot of trees, your Ozness."
"Nice, huh?" The Wizard clapped his hands together gleefully.
"Where did they all come from?" Still somewhat in shock, Glinda approached the trees - which, she could now see, were not growing in the throne room but in fact sat in individual pots on the marble floor.
"From Gillikin, obviously," the Wizard said. "Except those three on the left, those are from northern Munchkinland."
"But - how did you get them here? In one day?"
"Ah, there I had some assistance. Madame Morrible somewhat expedited the process of bringing them all here." He grinned and waved a gloved hand at the trees. "So, which one?"
"Um," Glinda said.
"I mean, which is the closest to the perfectly ideal Midwinter tree? Whichever one you like, we'll get dozens just like it for the rest of the Palace. And I think we should have a positively enormous one out in the throne room, don't you?"
A number of thoughts wheeled through Glinda's mind; the one she chose to express was, "For whom?"
The Wizard wagged a finger at her, his grin only growing. "Aha, fair point. I thought we could have a party - I'd be in disguise of course, but we could have some of the cream of the crop of Oz in here, don't you think? And otherwise just for us!"
"I see." Glinda frowned at the Wizard, then at the collection of trees, then back at the Wizard. He faced her scrutiny unblinkingly, which gave her an excellent view of his eyes, the chin and cheekbones somewhat disguised by middle-aged paunch, the high bridge of his nose. She took a deep breath. "I have something to talk to you about."
He folded his hands over his stomach as if prepared to take her very seriously. "What is that, my dear?"
Swallowing hard, Glinda turned away from him as she spoke and began thoughtfully to walk among the trees set out for her inspection. "You told Elphaba yesterday that you'd spent some time in Colwen Grounds. That you knew a number of women with her mother's name."
"Yes," he said. "I told her the truth."
"I believe you did," Glinda said, reaching out a finger to touch the end of a branch on one of the trees. "I just don't think you told her the entire truth."
"Now, Glinda -"
"I haven't said anything to her." Glinda circled the tree, bending close for a moment to breathe in the smell. "But here's what I think. I believe you did know a lot of women named Melena in Munchkinland, but I think you knew one of them a lot better than the others." She took another deep breath of pine and waited.
"Glinda," the Wizard said, his tone placating. "You and I - we're men of the world, if you'll pardon the expression. There are things Elphaba wouldn't . . ."
"I know," Glinda said. Her fingers tangled absently in the branches of a long-needled pine, a cluster of the needles coming off in her hand. Too long. "But you're right, I would."
"So you know." He shrugged. "Honestly, it doesn't help. If I thought there were any way of knowing if I'd met her mother - I know what it would mean to her -"
"I think there is a way of knowing," Glinda said. She paused between two bluish pines, her ankles wobbling. "I think I can prove to you that you knew her." She reached into the deep pocket of her full skirt and pulled out a green bottle.
The Wizard sighed. "You and Elphaba have both -"
"I think we all know you sold it to her mother," Glinda interrupted. "You weren't on any . . . political research mission - or maybe you were, but on the surface you were a peddler, and you sold it to her."
"Glinda -"
"No need to ask how I know, but I do know." Glinda took a deep breath. "The question is - why did her mother keep it? Why keep one of the bottles, years after you stopped visiting?"
The Wizard shrugged. "It's pretty."
Glinda held it up to the light. "Yes, it is. But I don't think that's why."
"Glinda, dear, I'm afraid I'm really not following you."
Glinda looked at him carefully, with her eyes narrowed, though her fingers continued to feel through the needles on one of the blue pines. She felt a trace of sticky sap cling to one of her fingertips. "Your Ozness," she said firmly, "she kept it as a memento, didn't she?"
He shook his head, his expression becoming helpless. "I have no way of knowing that."
"You're right, I suppose," Glinda said, nodding. "After all, you didn't come back. How would you know what she did?"
"Or what anyone did," he pointed out reasonably.
"Right." Glinda rubbed her fingers together to remove the sap and took another tack. "Were any of them pregnant - the women you sold your elixir to?" She held the bottle to the light again as she said it.
The Wizard winced slightly. "Glinda -"
"We are men of the world, aren't we?"
He sighed. "No, they were not. Where I come from - well, let's say the elixir is somewhat of an intoxicant, and a lot of folks don't hold with women drinking when they're . . . expecting. They think it does things to the child."
The last piece dropped into place in Glinda's mind so hard that she nearly staggered. The Wizard had begun to look at her strangely by the time she spoke again. "Could - could you be sure, though? Absolutely sure, that none of them were?"
"I suppose not." The Wizard sat down on one of the stairs behind his throne. "But why are we talking about this?"
"Because you knew a woman named Melena in Colwen Grounds very, very well," Glinda said, the last revelation still reeling in her mind. "And you gave her green elixir from another world. And when her child was born -"
She didn't have to say anything else, because all the color had, somewhat ironically, drained from the Wizard's face. He opened his mouth, but didn't seem able to speak.
"Yes," Glinda said. His flabbergasted expression gave her confidence. "I'm sorry, did you think Munchkinland suddenly producing a green child was a coincidence?"
"Glinda." The Wizard stopped, took a visibly deep breath, and paused. "Glinda. If - if she's my fault -"
Glinda blinked at him. "I'm afraid she's more than your fault, your Ozness."
"What?"
"Did you think she favored her father, when you met him?"
The Wizard's brow furrowed in confusion. "I did at first, but I think it was only his manner. In the end I suppose not. Why?"
"Because she doesn't actually look much like a Munchkinlander, you know." Glinda abandoned the trees and folded her hands in front of her stomach. "And she's - she has this power, that no one's ever had. No one in Oz - you know that."
"Yes." The Wizard shook his head, beginning to sound desperate. "Glinda, you ought to know by now, that elixir isn't really magic."
"In your world it wasn't," Glinda said. "Here, who's to say? But she had more than the elixir - have you really not guessed?"
"Guessed what?"
"Her father isn't her father, your Ozness," Glinda said softly. One of her ankles wobbled again as she prepared to deliver her final blow. "You knew her mother - though I believe you had no way of knowing she was the Governor's wife, I honestly do. You knew her, and then you stopped visiting, and shortly after the last time you visited, she had a green child with powers that don't come from this world. A child with your eyes and your nose, your Ozness." Her voice, already soft, dropped further. "She's not your fault - she's yours."
The Wizard sat frozen, in absolute silence.
Glinda turned away from him, walking amongst the three trees from Munchkinland. "I know," she said. "I felt exactly the same when I figured it out. I'm a little surprised you didn't - though I suppose you've never seen the two of you together, and I have."
"Proof," the Wizard said finally, his voice low and shaky. "You said you could prove it . . ."
"Well." Glinda rounded the last of the Munchkinland trees and looked at him again. He was so pale and trembly that she began to feel actual sympathy. "I don't mean I have hard evidence other than - her. Do you really think it isn't obvious?" As he began to open his mouth, she realized what the feeling was - if, despite everything he'd done, despite how little she trusted him . . . She held up a hand to forestall whatever he was about to say. "May I ask one question? Would it matter?"
He shook his head in confusion. "Sorry?"
"If she were yours - would it matter to you?"
He drew in a breath that she could hear, and sat somewhat taller on his stair. "Of course it would."
"And . . ." She abandoned the trees and went to sit on a step near him, sympathy now dominating her feeling toward him. "If you had known, at the time - before she was born, I mean -"
"Aside from the fact that making myself known would probably have gotten me killed by the Governor?" The Wizard let out a small, shaky laugh. "I'd have - yes, I'd have done something. I'd have wanted to keep an eye on her, anyway - of course."
Glinda nodded and tucked her dress around her knees. "Do you really need more proof?" she asked.
The Wizard was quiet for a long while. "I - I guess not. No."
"I'm sorry," she said.
"For what?" He sighed. "You only - I had to know. I'm glad I know . . ."
"For enjoying it," Glinda said. "A little."
The Wizard laughed again. "So. You - you haven't told her."
"No," Glinda said. She smoothed her skirts over her knees, disposing of nonexistent wrinkles. "I'm not - I'm not enjoying it that way. With regard to her. She's - I don't know what she's going to think."
He nodded in resignation. "You are going to tell her."
"Oh, no, your Ozness," Glinda said quietly.
He sat upright in surprise. "What?"
"No, you are."
Under other circumstances the fear that widened his eyes would have been truly entertaining. "Glinda -"
"It's not my business," she said. "I'm not her father."
"But you're -"
She shook her head. "I'm sorry, your Ozness. You have to talk to her about this." She got to her feet and ambled thoughtfully toward the most brilliantly green tree - not emerald, but a real forest pine. "You almost locked her up."
"I couldn't have known." He paused. "You didn't know, it can't have been that obvious. It took you years."
"Yes, it did." Glinda frowned, reaching out to brush the short needles on the tree. "Of course I didn't know you'd had a lover in Munchkinland twenty years ago that you plied with magical green liquor."
"It's not magic!"
"I think we have some evidence that it must be." After throwing him a look over her shoulder, Glinda patted the outer branches of the tree. "This one."
"Sorry?"
"This tree." She turned, a half smile on her face. "It's perfect."
The Wizard stood up, visibly pulling himself together at the same time. "Thank you."
"Talk to Elphaba."
"After Midwinter."
"Your Oz-"
He cut her off with an upraised palm. "After Midwinter, Glinda. Let her enjoy herself a little?"
It gave her pause, but she had to admit he was right. After all, she'd been thinking the same thing - let Elphaba have a normal holiday, for once. She nodded. "After Midwinter."