Chapter Text
Galinda’s sickness fades slowly, lingering in the poor girl’s system for several long days. On the second day, Elphaba, unfortunately, has to return to class, leaving Galinda behind in their dorm to rest and recover.
It makes her oddly nervous, the separation anxiety Galinda had suffered from earlier in the semester now filling Elphaba with a restless energy that makes her itch to run back to the dorms. She doesn’t at all enjoy the thought of leaving Galinda alone while she’s still weak.
What if her fever spikes again? What if she gets dizzy and hurts herself? What if she has another nightmare?
The last part is a new concern, one that had reared its ugly head the previous night. After she’d gotten Galinda bathed and calmed down, Elphaba had hoped the girl would crash and be able to sleep soundly through the night. But the night was far from restful for either of them, Elphaba constantly being jerked awake to Galinda’s muffled cries and shaking form.
She hadn’t been able to wake her--and a part of her was concerned to try--so she’d had to settle for simply gathering Galinda close and trying to soothe her into more peaceful dreams. Elphaba had always found Galinda’s habit of tucking her fingers over her nose so cute; but it left a sick feeling in her stomach when she saw the way those fingers had clamped down over the girl’s mouth in her sleep, a habit that Elphaba knows must’ve taken many many nightmares to make.
For the first time in perhaps her entire life, Elphaba finds herself entirely unable to focus during class. She can’t keep her mind on anything but Galinda. The words swim in front of her eyes, none of them sticking in her brain as she reads. Every tick of the clock sounds like a shallow breath, like Galinda struggling through gaspy wheezes. A cough echoes to her right and her head snaps around before she remembers.
She keeps looking for signs of illness in her classmates--red eyes, flushed cheeks, the wrong kind of shiver--as if her body isn’t quite capable of exiting caretaker mode, her adrenaline spiking with each clearing of a throat or sniffle of a nose.
Elphaba did have to tell the nurse about Galinda, much to the girl’s dismay. But it was the only way to get her excused from classes. The nurse had even gone as far as to give Galinda an exemption from sparring class for the rest of the semester. The fact that Galinda hadn’t protested was alarming in and of itself. A sure sign she was still feeling utterly awful.
Two days. That’s all it had been. And yet Elphaba feels like she’s aged a year.
She isn’t used to fear. Not like this. Not the kind that has her hands shaking under the table or her pen snapping three times in a single hour. Not the kind that makes her afraid to be out of sight, afraid of what might happen in the stretch between breakfast and lunch, between one breath and the next.
The last time she felt like this was--
It was--
A crack in the door. A devastating scream. Red blood on white sheets and the wails of a newborn.
Elphaba tightens her jaw, fingers curling tightly around her new pen. She hadn’t slept well-- jerking awake with each cough or whine or muffled whimper. The air seems thinner without Galinda nearby. Off-balance. Wrong.
The hours pass achingly slowly, and the relief Elphaba feels when she can finally rush back and have the blonde within reach again is palpable. Galinda, thankfully, has slept for almost the entire day, blinking slowly at Elphaba and smiling sweetly when the older girl crosses the room to check her temperature and ask how she’s feeling.
They spend the night in Galinda’s bed this time. It doesn’t even occur to Elphaba to sleep in her own.
The pattern repeats the next day, and the next, and the next. Elphaba knows she’s getting some odd looks from her professors, questioning the way she’s been silent and distracted in class. Her knee bounces under her desk, her notes a scribbled and illegible mess as her mind strays back to the dorms. Even Dr. Dillamond’s class, her favorite, isn’t enough to get her attention.
None of her professors says anything, but Fiyero is kind enough to check in on her before she escapes back to the dorms for lunch.
“I’m fine,” Elphaba says quickly, eyes moving past him as impatience fights with politeness. A smirk pulls at the corner of Fiyero’s mouth.
“You sound like Glinda,” he teases, and Elphaba shoots him a glare before she takes a second and realizes--
“See?” The smirk widens, something close to an actual smile.
“Whatever. I really am fine. It’s Galinda who’s sick.”
“Just make sure you’re not running yourself into the ground taking care of her. It won’t help Glinda if you get sick, too, you know.”
Elphaba almost snaps at Fiyero, her impatience to get moving starting to win out, before she processes the look of true concern in his eyes. She sighs, closing her eyes and taking a steadying breath. Fiyero is…nice. He is. And he’s their friend. A real one, someone who actually cares beyond just wondering when Galinda will be available for socializing again.
“Sorry,” Elphaba mumbles, even though she’d managed to stop herself before she said anything rude.
“It’s alright,” Fiyero says easily. He seems to understand, his stance and face softening as he reaches over and nudges her shoulder slightly. “Take care of yourself, Elphaba. Glinda would hate to see you wearing yourself down like this.”
Especially if it’s for her, neither of them say, but they both hear the words. They both know the blonde far too well.
“Yeah, of course.” Elphaba adjusts the strap of her bag, sending Fiyero a tight smile and a nod. “Thanks, Fiyero. I’ll talk to you later.”
“See you! And say ‘hi’ to Glinda for me.”
Elphaba nods again, finally skirting past the prince and quickening her steps as she crosses to the staircase. She takes them two at a time, eager to finally get back so she can check on Galinda and make sure she eats something before Elphaba’s final class for the day.
It’s…sorcery seminar. And if it were anyone but Madame Morrible, Elphaba might seriously consider skipping. But it is Morrible, and despite Galinda’s personal (and still unexplained) feelings surrounding the older woman, Galinda would just be upset if Elphaba offered to skip just to take care of her.
That doesn’t mean Elphaba is any less distracted in class, though. Her mind is just as slippery and wandering as it was in all her other classes, her thoughts far away from the sorcery room and all the way across campus in a dorm lit pink and glowing.
Really- a little bit of fire was the most likely outcome.
It wasn’t even a complicated spell-- but it’s one that reminds Elphaba distinctly of Galinda. Of the way she’d looked, beaming at Elphaba over the tiny candle flame in their dorm. The way she’d been so proud of Elphaba, even once she’d mastered it to the point of it being nothing more than an easy wave of her hand.
She’d tried to show Morrible that-- but her thoughts had skittered away at some point, thinking about Galinda’s smile, about how she hadn’t seen it all day, and somehow, between one breath and the next, the flame had skipped sideways, grazing past the waxy stick and curling hungrily over the arm of one of the seminar room’s wooden chairs.
Morrible extinguished it immediately, of course. A snap of her fingers and a cold rush of air and it was gone. But the scorch mark remained-- black and ugly against polished wood, the smell of singed varnish crawling through the room.
Elphaba stands frozen still, hand clenched at her side, already bracing herself. Across the room, Madame Morrible raises one carefully shaped brow.
“Trouble focusing, Miss Elphaba?”
Elphaba swallows. Her tongue feels too thick for her mouth. “I-I apologize, Madame,” she says, too quickly.
Morrible doesn’t reply at first. She crosses the floor slowly, her heels a soft, deliberate click against the tile. When she reaches the damaged chair, she clicks her tongue judgmentally and waves her hand. The burn mark vanishes.
“You’ve been off this week,” she says mildly. Like she’s talking about the weather. “This isn’t like you.”
Elphaba shifts. Her palms are sweaty. She’s more present in the moment right now than she’s been in days. And she knows, firmly, that Galinda would not want Morrible to know the real reason she’s distracted.
“It’s just…roommate stuff,” she mutters. That, at least, isn’t a lie.
Morrible looks at her with unreadable eyes. There’s a long pause-- the kind of silence that feels like it’s pulling at your lungs, begging you to give in, to spill all your secrets and lies.
“Miss Upland, yes?” Morrible says at last.
Elphaba nods, cautious. “Nothing to worry about. She’s just, um, helped me with this spell before. And I was thinking of something she said instead of focusing. It won’t happen again.”
Morrible hums. “See that it doesn’t.” She tilts her head, eyes narrowing. “Though-- I wasn’t aware Miss Upland was still…assisting you. And with such advanced spells. I do hope she’s not doing more harm than good.”
The fire spell really isn’t that advanced, but Elphaba doesn’t say that. She doesn’t say anything, actually, just shuffles on her feet and tries to think of words. Galinda had actually been very helpful, perhaps even more than Morrible herself. But Elphaba can’t exactly say that.
Morrible moves back toward the front of the room, her hands clasped behind her back. “We’re getting close now, you know. I’ve received a very encouraging letter from my contact in the Emerald City. The Wizard has expressed interest in meeting you.”
That makes Elphaba look up.
She’d known this was coming-- Morrible had all but promised it during their first session. A special recommendation. A personal audience. The chance to meet the most powerful magical being in all of Oz. It’s everything she’s ever dreamed of.
“This is the kind of opportunity some girls would kill for,” Morrible continues. “An audience with the Wizard!”
Elphaba’s mouth feels dry.
She used to fantasize about meeting him. The Wizard of Oz-- someone who could do magic like hers, maybe even explain it. Someone who might not flinch at green skin, who might even understand it. Who might even change it.
Someone who could grant her heart’s desire.
But--
Galinda had never flinched. She’d taken Elphaba’s hand on the very first day and held it like it was something precious. She’d declared that they were friends like it was the most obvious truth in the world. She’d listened to her, trusted her, smiled at her like she wasn’t strange or dangerous or a walking commotion.
If only you are brave enough to try.
What if Elphaba’s heart desires something different now?
***
By the time Galinda decides to come back to class, Elphaba is seriously starting to feel like her mind is fracturing, torn apart by the force of the sheer hurricane of feelings Galinda has caused her to feel. She tries to shove them aside, to focus on the problem at hand, not on the confusing whirlwind happening inside her heart.
Elphaba knows it’s Galinda’s decision to come back. Galinda’s the only one who can know if she’s ready. So Elphaba bites her tongue and doesn’t ask are you sure? or what if it’s too much? But that doesn’t mean she isn’t thinking it, watching Galinda get dressed and go through her usual ten-step routine.
Her arms are shaking so badly as she tries to pin her hair back that Elphaba eventually has to calmly intervene-- taking the pin and carefully finishing Galinda’s usually twist-back style.
“Thank you,” Galinda whispers, and Elphaba can tell how much she hates this, how much she hates feeling like a burden.
“Always,” she says back.
They take their time going to the dining hall, Galinda having asked if they could time it away from when she knew her usual crowd would be there. ShenShen and Pfannee had both been by the dorm to check on Galinda while she was out of class, spreading the news that she was sick (but not contagious!) and wouldn’t be around for a couple of days.
But Elphaba knows she’ll still get swarmed by her army of fans the moment they realize she’s back. She’ll likely get a million comments and questions and invitations to new events. She knows it would be a lot for anyone, let alone someone who still gets fatigued just writing a few notes for class.
She’s dressed immaculately-- hair in its usual halo of curls, uniform pressed, smile unwavering when they pass someone in the hall. To any other observer, she might look the same as always: radiant and composed, the very picture of poise.
But Elphaba sees it.
The stiffness in her posture. The tightness of her grip on her bag strap. The way her mouth trembles at the corners when she thinks no one’s watching. She’s leaning on Elphaba where she has one hand looped through her arm. Just slightly. Not enough to be noticeable. But enough to make Elphaba’s stomach turn.
When they get to the dining hall, Galinda stays with Elphaba, even when the older girl suggests she go ahead and sit down-- winded already despite the short walk. Galinda just shakes her head mutely, fisting her hand into the back of Elphaba’s uniform so the girl has both hands free.
“Anything catch your eye?” Elphaba prompts, even though she knows Galinda will--predictably--shake her head ‘no.’
Swallowing her sigh, Elphaba just gathers a tray of simple things that will be easy on the stomach. Plain toast, a banana, and some porridge with cinnamon sprinkled on top.
Galinda liked cinnamon the last time, but Elphaba watches her dip her spoon in and let the porridge slide off over and over and feels her chest squeeze painfully with concern. It’s been doing that a lot lately.
“You have to eat something, Galinda,” she pleads. They’ve had this conversation more than once in the past few days. In the past few weeks, really . Galinda’s body can’t recover when it’s so weak and malnourished.
Galinda’s fingers tighten around her spoon, mouth opening and closing as she tries--and fails--to come up with words. She nods, finally, a tiny dip of her chin, and brings the spoonful to her mouth.
It’s…almost painful to witness. Stifling and awkward, made even worse by the weight of Elphaba’s gaze. She regrets it immediately, watching the corners of Galinda’s eyes pinch and her throat spasm as she works to swallow without gagging.
Oz, Galinda…
Elphaba doesn’t apologize--though she very much wants to--but only because she has a feeling it would make the tears gathered against Galinda’s eyelids finally fall.
There’s a beat where Galinda takes several sharp inhales through her nose, and Elphaba genuinely worries about whether she should grab a trash can or something.
“Are you--”
“I’m fine,” Galinda says. The words are quick. Bright. Too quick and bright.
Elphaba doesn’t believe her for a second. She wants to say something--anything--but all her usual words have abandoned her. Logic doesn’t help here. She’s starting to realize, slowly, that there’s no right combination of syllables that can convince someone to take care of themselves.
And there’s no right combination of syllables that can convince her to stop worrying.
“You don’t have to go,” Elphaba says, and hates how brittle she sounds. “We can say you aren’t ready.”
“I am ready,” Galinda says. It’s immediate. Reflexive. Almost angry. A snap of sound that surprises them both.
She blinks like she didn’t mean it to come out that way and smooths her hands down her skirt. “I mean, I have to be. I can’t miss anything else, Elphaba, I just-- I can’t.”
She presses her lips together tightly, almost as if she’s scared to say anything else. Elphaba nods through the pain of her stomach twisting into a knot. At what point will Galinda trust her? Enough to really say what she means?
They head to class slowly, side by side. Elphaba adjusts her pace to match Galinda’s, not that she says anything about it. Galinda keeps talking, at first---trying to carry the conversation with her usual level of mindless, enthusiastic rambling--but her voice grows thinner the farther they go.
By the time they reach the steps outside the lecture hall, Galinda is nearly silent. Her breathing is shallow. Her face is pale under its usual powder. She grips Elphaba’s arm like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. Elphaba opens the door for her, but Galinda doesn’t move, still catching her breath from the short walk.
Elphaba watches her closely. “Let’s just go back,” she says, low.
Galinda straightens, as much as she can. “No- I’m fi--”
“Please don’t say you’re fine.”
Galinda blinks, startled. She tilts her head to look up at Elphaba, taking in her pinched expression. And for just a moment, the mask slips. Something raw and exhausted flickers behind her eyes, something so small and unguarded it nearly breaks Elphaba open.
But then it’s gone, and Galinda takes a deep breath, straightens her shoulders, and brushes invisible lint off her sleeve. “It’ll be okay, Elphaba,” she says softly. “I promise.”
Elphaba feels something vicious and wild tangle around her throat, strangling her of air or words. She doesn’t know what it is-- just that it floods her system like fear, like running desperately towards someone falling and knowing you’ll never catch them in time.
Like her body knows, deep down, that even Galinda doesn’t truly believe in her promise.
***
Galinda makes it through the day. Barely- but she makes it. She’s exhausted by the end, having had to field more than a few crowds of tittering fans as they pestered her about her sickness and being back and whether she wanted to do XYZ or go see ABC or whatever it is they talk about when Elphaba isn’t paying attention.
Back at their room, Elphaba helps her onto the bed and tugs the blanket up around her shoulders. The fact that Galinda lets herself be coaxed under a blanket with her school uniform still on is yet another worrying sign.
“I’m sorry,” Galinda keeps saying. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”
“I know,” Elphaba replies softly. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
There’s a long silence. Galinda plays with the edge of the blanket. Elphaba knows that it kills her to have to keep being taken care of like this. She’d tried hard to be independent the last few days, constantly apologizing for making Elphaba have to bring her food or help her move around. Elphaba knows the constant vigilance is taking its own toll on her as well, and she’s been desperately trying to hide it to keep Galinda from feeling any more guilt.
Elphaba sits at the end of the bed, long legs drawn up under her. She reaches for Galinda’s hand and holds it gently in both of hers, running her thumb across the girl’s pale knuckles. Eventually, she sighs, lifting her arm so she can press a gentle kiss to their joined hands.
“You scared me,” she says. “You-- You were really sick, Galinda.”
Galinda doesn’t respond, but her head drops lower to her chest. Elphaba doesn’t want to make her feel bad; she really doesn’t. But she wants Galinda to understand how important she is to her. Why Elphaba cares and worries so much, seeing her push herself like this.
“I didn’t know what to do,” Elphaba admits. “I’ve never-- I mean, I’ve taken care of Nessa before, but not like-- It’s not--” She stops. Clears her throat. Drops her voice. “It was really bad. That’s all.”
Galinda doesn’t move, but her grip tightens around Elphaba’s fingers. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. Her voice is cracked and raw and thick with tears. It pierces right through the most sensitive parts of Elphaba, and she hates herself for saying anything, even as she knows it was necessary to get it off her chest.
Elphaba lets out a breath and presses her forehead to Galinda’s knuckles.
“I know.”