No, this story is not dead. Hopefully over six thousand words should make up for the long wait.

Shameless Self-Advertising: In Love and War—it doesn’t show up on the page when updated (look in my profile), but it’s certainly there, thank goodness.

There is a RENT reference in here, and it reminded me that I would like to say a public thank you to President Barack Obama for making June 2009 LGBT Pride Month.

Disclaimer: Wicked and all its accompanying everythings are the creation and property of Gregory Maguire. And as for Vondar, I stole another Star Wars name, but so help me they’re good. And my thanks to webMD for the information needed. If any of it is disinformation, blame them and maybe some artistic license.

Lurlinemas again, and another present from Fiyero.

“You are so lucky,” Bronia said for the thousandth time. “I tell you, if I had a guy like that I swear I’d marry him.”

Elphaba threw the note in the stove. “The only thing is, Bronia, he’s already married. Not to mention that you’re already in a relationship, and although I’ve met her only once, what’s-her-name doesn’t seem the sort to appreciate sharing you.”

“I didn’t mean it literally. And I’ll take those chocolates if you’re so opposed to gifts.”

Elphaba handed her the box.

“So tell me, do you still love him?”

Elphaba turned away. “I don’t want to speak about him.”

“You don’t have to give a lecture; just a yes or a no. Really, if I’m going to be eating his gifts to you I ought to know.”

“Fine!” Elphaba whirled around. “Yes! Yes, I love him, is that enough for you? I’ve loved him almost since we met, years ago, and I haven’t stopped loving him. If not for his wife I might even have accepted his marriage proposal! Not being able to see him this year devastated me; Liir—Liir—” She turned around again and sank onto a cushion.

Bronia, who hadn’t been expecting her friend to tell her so much of her personal life, quickly recovered from her shock and went to sit next to Elphaba. Actual touch would be too much she knew, so she just sat. “Elphie…” she said softly.

Elphaba got up and went to her room.

Bronia stared into the fire for a while, ate some chocolate—suddenly they didn’t taste as good—and hummed a carol before retiring to bed.

Civility had been restored somewhat the next day. Elphaba nodded to Bronia over breakfast and wished her a surly “Have a good day” before Bronia went out for the day. She did not reply to Bronia’s own greetings, though.

“Tell me, Adi, have you ever lived with a truly mercurial person?” Bronia asked her girlfriend when she met up with her.

Adi shrugged. “First tell me what the word means?”

“Changeable; volatile; fickle; flighty; erratic. Someone who gives you a box of chocolates one minute and then turns on you with drama about a semi-estranged lover the next?”

“I have never experienced that, exactly. So, your roommate had a hard Lurlinemas Eve?”

Bronia squirmed a bit. “Well, actually she’d gotten the chocolates from her lover, and she gave them to me when I said I wouldn’t mind one.”

“That’s nice of her.”

“Elphaba is very nice when she isn’t furious.”

“Is that why an estranged lover sent her candy?”

Bronia had only known Adi for a month and a half, and they had not quite gotten around to discussing Elphaba’s past. “Well, it’s a complicated relationship.” She explained what she could of it to Adi as they walked to the coffeeshop that was their destination. “And I haven’t even gone into detail about Liir—that’s their son. Elphaba does not like children. Never has, she says, and that’s one reason she was less than happy when Liir was born. She’s adjusted to being a mother a bit, but now seems to be in a state of limbo.”

Adi nodded.

“He’s the whole reason she and Fiyero are still in contact: Fiyero, who does love his son, only found out about Liir accidentally. He and Elphaba finally agreed on the yearly meetings I mentioned to you. He does send Lurlinemas packages, though.” It being Lurlinemas, the coffeeshop was packed and they became part of an extremely long and slow-moving line.

“I still don’t see how this led to the drama.”

Bronia squirmed a bit more and became extremely engrossed in reading the list of various coffee combinations.

Adi nudged her.

“Well, she was being surly and I asked her—stupidly, without thinking—if she loved him. Which was when she whirled around and gave me a history. I tried to comfort her a bit; she went off to her room and has spoken precisely one short sentence to me, something to the effect of ‘have a nice time.’”

Adi took on a distinct air of reproach. “I can’t say I blame her for that.”

“I know.” Bronia realized that the line had moved up three people without her noticing. “It’s just that she can have these moods even over the small things. I know she’s been through a lot, and I don’t blame her, but it gets irritating.”

“Nothing to do about that but tread carefully.”

Bronia sighed. “I know. But she’s my friend, and I love her—”

“I am offended…”

“Oh, don’t be an idiot!”

“And I’m not supposed to be offended now?” But they were both laughing, and Bronia gave her a kiss to prove the point.

The manager saw them and glared.

Bronia shrugged. “Hey, mister—she’s my sister.”

He huffed. “Right…sisters.”

Adi smiled innocently. “We’re close. Come on, it’s Lurlinemas!”

He shook his head and returned to the customers.

“I almost like running into people like him,” Bronia said, “if only because they offer so much opportunity for fun.”

They couldn’t spend the entire day together, because Adi had a family Lurlinemas dinner to attend—“And I’m sorry you can’t come, but my lovely family does not offer fun; they would probably throw the turkey in your face.”—but Bronia was occupied well enough for the rest of the afternoon, what with everything going on. An Emerald City Lurlinemas could never be dull, and it was with regret that she realized that she would soon have to be home.

Nobody had bothered to shovel any snow off the street since she’d left that morning, and it was hard going. Bronia was glad to get inside. She opened the door of the apartment only to be met by billowing vapor and somebody coughing. “Elphaba!” she called, trying to wave away the steam. “What happened?”

Elphaba came into view, standing next to the stove and holding Liir, who was wheezing harshly. “It’s Liir,” she said tonelessly.

Bronia opened the window to let some of the steam out. “Liir! But what—”

“What do you mean, what? He’s been hacking like this for the last hour. An hour or so after you left I realized that he had a fever. A bad one. It went down eventually, but then the coughing started, and I don’t like it…” The kettle was belching steam, but it didn’t seem to be doing too much good.

Bronia listened to the cough and her face tightened. “Oh damn, you’re right,” she whispered. “That is so not good.”

“Do you know what to do?”

Bronia shook her head. “You?”

“Not really.”

“But you studied the life sciences, didn’t you?” Bronia pressed on, moving closer and closer to frantic. “Surely you must know something!”

“It was a college class, not medical school!” Elphaba snapped. “I know something about the respiratory system, but only enough to tell that his has got a problem.”

“So what should we do?”

“What is there to do?” Elphaba said tersely, trying to find a better way to hold Liir; that sound was killing her. “He needs a doctor.”

“A doctor.”

“Yes, a doctor. Or someone, anyone that knows what they’re doing, so go find somebody, Bronia, and please not a quack in scarves. I’ll do whatever I’ve got to do to pay, just go.” For the first time, Bronia heard something like worry in her voice. “What are you standing there for? Now!”

Bronia ran, thanking everything she could think of that she actually did know someone that could help.

When she’d been working the streets, during that time long ago that she hated remembering, a man had once approached her. He’d looked wealthy, and tired and aching as she was, Bronia had jumped up from where she was sitting wishing she’d killed herself years ago and pasted a smile on her face. “Good evening, sir,” she’d began, but he’d cut her off.

“How much do you charge?”

“You’ll get your money’s worth, I can tell you that much.” She raised an eyebrow and taken a step forward. That was what clients tended to enjoy about her—she didn’t play shy.

“Look, Miss, just tell me. How much on an average day, then?”

Miss? She was generally Girly or You the Whore with the Big Hair. She shrugged. “Depends. Anywhere from nothing to a couple hundred. Average, maybe seventy. They prefer the blondes.”

“And how much today?”

God, when businessmen came they were usually looking to forget about their work. She’d never met anybody with a math fetish. “Sixty-nine, nice and appropriate.” She winced internally.

Her prospective client wasn’t so adept at hiding his own distaste.

Usually she let them play, but she was so tired tonight. “Look, mister, do you want a figure or a fuck? ‘Cause I was about to go to sleep.”

His brow wrinkled in concern. “You look ill.”

“I haven’t eaten, and after where my mouth has been I don’t want to. Is that a no?”

“No.” He straightened his jacket. “How old are you?”

She was twenty-two. “Eighteen, and a virgin for anybody that wants.”

He held a hand out. “Come. We’ll go to my house.”

“I may charge extra,” she said, but rejoiced at the possibility of being tumbled in an actual bed. And his hand was gentle; the last guy might as well have been jabbing a piece of splintery wood into her. He was a fast walker, and she had to trot, something she didn’t like in her heels.

“And what’s your name?”

“Bronia. You?”

“Jos Vondar.”

Jos. She committed the name to memory, and began to run through the various ways to say it in bed. One of Bronia’s problems was that she never forgot a name, and now she had so many names that she wanted to forget. Vondar seemed kind enough, though, and he was pretty handsome—Bronia estimated him to be someplace in his thirties; neat chestnut hair; pretty good body as far as she could tell.

This man and possibly a bed? Gods, she was lucky today. She was still marveling at her good fortune when Vondar stopped in front of a large house in one of the more wealthy parts of town. He unlocked the door and showed her inside to a parlor the likes of which she had never seen. It was actually rather pedestrian given the general look of the area, but to Bronia, from whom the most opulent she had ever had was running water, this was royalty. She was almost afraid to touch anything, given how grubby she was (hard to keep clean with no real place to go).

“Please, sit down,” Vondar told her, and mentally Bronia sighed. Now it was time for fun, then. She obeyed and then drew her knees up to her chest. She’d abandoned underwear some time ago as a matter of convenience, a gesture often appreciated when she sat like this.

“Please…” He looked a bit uncomfortable. “Would you mind sitting normally?”

She shrugged and obliged.

Vondar sat down beside her. “Bronia, how long have you been…doing what you do?”

“Whoring? A few years.” She ticked off on her fingers: “Left home, if you could call it home, when I was sixteen, got involved in other work for a few years, got kicked out, now I’m doing what I can.”

“I thought you’re eighteen.”

Shit. “I never said eighteen what.”

“How old are you, really?”

“I’m twenty-two,” she admitted. “But not any worse than an eighteen-year-old.”

He sat up straighter. “Bronia, look.”

“Yes?”

“I did not come to your street looking to hire a prostitute. I came to help you.”

She looked at him warily. “Help me? Have we met?”

“No. We haven’t met, and I had nobody particular in mind when I came.”

“So why—”

He looked her over. Not in a lustful way, simply analytical. “Bronia, what do you generally eat?”

Now there was something she’d never been asked before. “What I can get, when I can. I usually have enough money to buy some bread, and something on the side. I get water from the fountains.”

Jos winced. “Did you know those are polluted?”

She nodded. “Well, there’s the algae floating on the top to clue me in. But I need water, and I only got sick a few times. I know some people with constant dysentery.”

“And with such rudimentary bathroom facilities…enough to make any physician cringe.”

“I do bathe,” she told him. “I have to, in my line of work. A few buckets from the fountain, or rain or something.”

“In short, horrible. Fara!” he called.

“Coming!” a woman’s voice said faintly.

“Who’s Fara?”

“My wife.”

Bronia blinked. “She let you bring a whore to the house?”

Jos nodded. “She completely agreed to it, because if you’ll remember I said I want to help you.”

“As do I,” said the woman who had just entered the room. “What’s your name?”

“Bronia,” said Bronia, “and you would be Fara?”

“I am. Jos, you were out for quite a long time.”

He shrugged.

“Never mind, so long as you’re back. And now for you…” she said to Bronia.

“A warm bath and a change of clothes first,” said Jos. “And then a good meal, for sure, and we’ll go on from there.”

Fara nodded. “Of course. Bronia, come with me.”

Bronia was still looking from one to the other. This had all happened so fast, it seemed. “So no sex?” she said, dazed.

“I should hope not,” Fara retorted. “Or he’d get hell and none from me. Come on, Bronia.”

“Why am I here?” Bronia asked her as Fara led her up the stairs.

“Well, Jos has been having a run of bad luck lately. He wanted to do a good deed, both to make him feel better about himself and perhaps to appeal to the Unnamed God.”

“So I’m a charity case.” Not that she minded so much. “But why bring me here?”

“I don’t know exactly,” Fara said. “But I can understand why he chose to do what he did: He had a sister that disappeared many years ago, and nobody knew why or to where or anything. His family did everything they could to try to find her, but she didn’t want to be found. Then, about a year and a half ago, she simply showed up on our doorstep, in a terrible condition, and we could tell from how she was dressed that she must have been a…anyway. Well, we took her in, but apparently she’d only bothered to track her family down because she knew that she was dying and at least wanted them to know what had happened to her. She didn’t last the week, and I think Jos has felt responsible for it ever since, seeing as he’s a doctor. I’ve told him that there are some things that can never be fixed, but he won’t hear me. I suppose that’s why you’re here now. Here. Wait a moment while I get towels.” She installed Bronia in a bathroom and set the tub filling with hot water.

As Fara was rummaging a room or two over, Bronia looked around the place. It had been some time since she had been inside a real house, and this was the nicest she had ever been in. For starters, there were no spiders, and the bathtub did not have a sheen of mildew.

“Here are towels,” said Fara, coming back in and thrusting a pile at her, “and some fresh clothes I never actually got around to wearing—you can’t possibly keep what you’re wearing now. And it’s cold out.”

Bronia looked down at her clothes and had to agree that they were rather…minimal.

“So I’ll leave now, so you can actually take a bath, and just call for me when you’re done, or if you need something, and we’ll go from there.” She stopped for a moment. “Tell me if I’m being too overbearing, will you? I’m a natural mother hen, but having no chicks I sort of project onto others.” She smiled, but Bronia saw a bit of sadness flit across her face.

“You still look young enough for children,” she said, and then immediately thought that perhaps she had been too blunt.

Fara didn’t seem to care. “I am, and there’s no good reason why not. So I just hope. Pray.” She left, shutting the door behind her.

Bronia slowly turned the lock. She still could not quite believe this. But even if it was all a dream, she might as well take advantage of it. She quickly stripped off her clothes and stepped into the water. She had thought she’d been doing a good job of keeping herself clean, but apparently there were different standards—the water had immediately gone several shades darker.

That definitely had to go. There were soaps nearby, and Bronia set about to using them. Her hair was also more tangled than she had thought, she realized as she ran a hand through it. Come to think of it, she hadn’t looked into a full-length mirror for some time. Probably a very good thing. It took her several cycles of scrubbing to get entirely clean.

“Fara?” she called hesitantly when she was dry and dressed, and almost immediately she appeared.

“You’re done, then. You look much better already. Come down now and have some real food.”

“Thank you for the clothes,” Bronia said. “And they fit perfectly too.”

“You can keep them,” said Fara. “Goodness knows I have too many.”

“No—I really—”

“Just keep them. They’ll just languish in a closet otherwise.”

This was a new development to Bronia. She had never met anybody that could afford to just give clothes away. Why, when she was a child she had had two dresses: one to wear everyday and one for when that one wore out (a phrase which here means “so threadbare that it falls off”). She was also unfamiliar with having her choice of what to eat, and how much, which she had when she sat down for dinner. Well, when one’s budget had never exceeded much more than the price of a loaf of bread, such a thing was to be expected.

When she had finally reached her capacity, Bronia pushed back her chair and got up. “Well, thank you for all of this,” she told them. “It’s been a great help; perhaps I’ll see you—”

“What do you mean, ‘perhaps you’ll see us’? Have no misconceptions, dear, you’re staying here.”

She blinked. “Say what?”

“Well, at least until you can support yourself and are settled in a decent place.” Fara made it sound common as corn.

“What exactly does this mean?” Bronia said slowly.

“It means that you can leave your old life behind, because you’re staying with us now.”

Bronia didn’t answer.

“I think you’re overloading her a bit, Fara,” said Jos. “It’s a lot to take in in such a short time. And you said you were tired, I remember,” he said, addressing Bronia. “Why don’t you go to bed now and we can discuss this in the morning?”

Fara led her to a guest room, and Bronia’s last thought before falling asleep was that perhaps her faith in humanity could be salvaged.

She had stayed with the Vondars for nearly six months, and done anything for them that they would let her do, which was frustratingly little. “I don’t want to be just a burden,” she had protested. “All I really do is sit on your furniture and read your books and eat your food. I need stimulation, and if you were going to suggest getting a job there’s only one kind of job available around here and I’ve had all I can stand of it.”

“Oh, I don’t know if all the jobs are taken,” Jos said. “What were you thinking along the lines of?”

“I—I don’t know, actually.” Bronia felt somewhat foolish. “I’m rather multitalented. I can do most things, I think.

By the next night Jos had had her employed, and soon enough she had acquired quite a decent sum of money (she suspected sometimes that her bank account had been supplemented by the Vondars, but she knew not to protest)—relatively—enough to buy food and pay the rent on the little apartment she had found. But although she had been so eager to strike out on her own, she found it surprisingly hard to leave. This had become her home.

“We’ll still be in the same city,” Fara said practically (although she looked teary). “It won’t be incredibly hard to keep in touch.”

“I don’t know,” Bronia said. “I’m not very good at that, and if I move around enough…”

“So tell us your new address,” said Jos. “You know our address, and my office. And even if we should fall out of touch, just know that I’ll always be here for you,” he told her as he worked himself free of her embrace, and as Bronia approached his practice she hoped desperately that he still would be.

She was just in time—he was locking the door even as she approached, and to run to his home would have taken her at least another half hour. “Jos!”

He turned around. “Bronia!”

She nodded. “And I’d love to chat later, but my friend’s baby is sick and we don’t think it looks good; you said when I moved out that you’d always be here for me. Are you?”

“Bronia, I do keep my word. A sick baby, you say? A moment.” He ducked into the office and was out within thirty seconds, fumbling the clasp on his doctor’s bag.

“So what exactly is the problem?” he asked her as they struggled through the snow.

“Not sure. Liir—that’s his name—has got this terrible-sounding cough.”

“How old is he?”

“About a year and a half, now.”

“Healthy?”

“Not now, but generally, yes.”

“And the mother?”

Who could tell anything about Elphaba? “Elphaba…” said Bronia. “Yes, she’s fine too. Oh, but just so you don’t get shocked out of your wits—she’s green. Her skin, that is. She was born that way, completely green, and I’m not joking. She’s rather sensitive about it, though, so best not to mention it. It hasn’t affected her in any physical way, though.”

Jos nodded. It wasn’t such a surprise to him, actually—he thought he’d seen a green woman around the Emerald City now and then. “What about the baby’s father?”

“Only met him a few times; he lives in the Vinkus. I don’t know much about him, although he seemed very nice.” Bronia picked up a handful of snow and worked it through her hair—cold as it was, she’d been heavily wrapped and running.

“And how have you been yourself? I haven’t heard from you in quite some time.”

Bronia blushed. She’d fallen out of touch a while ago. “Since I last wrote? I’ve kept my job; moved around a bit.” No need to mention the Resistance, even if she had been able to. “Haven’t gotten into too much trouble. I’m great. How are you and Fara?”

“Wonderful. We have a little girl now, almost a year and a half. Adita.”

“Adita! That’s my girlfriend’s name.” Jos didn’t respond, and Bronia remembered that, although he wouldn’t say it outright, Jos did not approve of her having relationships with women. “And congratulations, of course. What’s she like?”

Jos grinned. “Oh, you know I’m biased. But all bias aside, she’s perfect. I mean it, really. She’s a gorgeous little girl that always behaves. Except for a few times…a day…”

Bronia was smiling too. “Well, you’re assured of not being bored.”

“Sometimes she reminds me a lot of you.”

Bronia shrugged. “Just treat her better than my parents did me. This is the street I live on. I should warn you, my staircase isn’t in the best condition. Very unsteady. No one’s died. Yet.”

Jos looked around. “Is this…the best neighborhood?”

Bronia shook her head. “But it’s far from the worst. As a matter of fact, it’s the best of the bad.” She dug around in her pocket for the key and found it lacking. Had she taken it when she left the house? No, she hadn’t. She’d just have to knock, then, and hope that Elphaba heard.

She led Jos up the stairs and heard him grumble the entire way.

“Don’t be a baby,” she said over her shoulder. “And stay on the top stair; the landing only holds one.” She knocked hard on the door. “Elphaba!” she called. “Me!”

A few seconds later the door opened. “You’ve found someone?” was the first thing Elphaba asked her. “Because he hasn’t been doing any better.”

“I’ve got someone,” Bronia assured her as Vondar stepped inside. “Jos, this is Elphaba. Elphaba, this is Jos Vondar. He’s a doctor, and an old and very dear acquaintance.”

Elphaba nodded.

Jos took in the scene—which wasn’t too hard, given the size of the place—and held out his hands. “May I have the baby?”

Elphaba closed her eyes for a moment, then handed Liir over.

“Well, it’s croup, certainly,” said Jos after an inspection. “A bad case, but still more scary than dangerous. I don’t have the medicine on me at the moment, but you can come tomorrow—” Liir coughed again and he changed his mind. “I’ll go now. Boil some water in the meantime, and let the steam blow in his face. Night air can help too, sometimes, so you might take him out for a few minutes.”

Elphaba took Liir back. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“So he’ll be all right, then, it looks like,” Bronia said in relief. “And you?”

“What about me?”

“Elphaba, if I didn’t know you were green I’d say you were white.”

“I was worried, that’s all!” she said. “The same type of worry I would have experienced had my cat been sick; I just don’t want—”

Bronia put a hand on her shoulder. “Elphie. It’s all right. Do you want me to hold Liir? He’s probably gotten pretty heavy.”

“He has,” Elphaba admitted. “Thanks. For everything, really.” She looked around for something to do, and realized that the kettle had boiled itself out. She went to refill it, but ended up running the water onto her hand instead. It was only with great restraint that she kept herself from swearing loudly enough to send Bronia running to fuss over her. “Shit,” she said very quietly, trying to pat the hand dry on her skirt.

Eventually she managed to fill the kettle and get it boiling. Her hand was still burning, and she made a note to have someone else handle the kettle in future if she was too distracted to think straight. Why was she so distracted, anyway? It was just Liir, whom she had never particularly liked in any case.

She took him back just to have something to do with herself, and was glad when Jos returned and broke the silence.

“I got—” He broke off as he saw Elphaba’s hand. “What happened to you?”

She shrugged. “Water burns me. I spilled some refilling the kettle. I’ll be fine; I’ve gotten worse.”

He took her hand anyway and looked at it. “This isn’t fine. It’s blistering. Did you dry your hand?”

“Of course I did!” She should have covered the hand; this whole business was embarrassing her.

“Well, you can’t let this go completely untended. I have an ointment you can use—”

“Thank you for the concern,” Elphaba interrupted, “but about Liir?”

He nodded. “I have the medicine,” he said, taking a small bottle from his pocket. “I’ll give him some now, and the rest of the dosage is on the label. Can I have a spoon?”

Bronia squeezed her way to the container where they kept mismatched cutlery. “There is at least one, I’m sure,” she called. “I just put everything handle up…”

Jos shook his head. “Living with her is never boring, is it?” he said to Elphaba.

She managed a smile. “Never. She’s got enough spirit to make this place explode; she’s already made one hole—”

“Shoddy architecture, and I was trying to help you, for Oz’s sake! Jos, I give you a spoon.”

“Thank you. And just a suggestion: find a better method of storage.” He poured a spoonful of something dark and syrupy. “Elphaba, do you think he’ll swallow this on his own or try to spit it out?”

“He should swallow it, I think,” she said. “He’s usually cooperative about these things.”

Indeed, Liir swallowed the medicine with no objection.

“You’re lucky,” said Jos. “My daughter would still be fighting. Now, give Bronia the baby and we’ll see about your hand.”

Elphaba obediently transferred Liir, but tensed as Jos took her hand.

“Are you scared of doctors?” he asked. “I don’t bite, you know.”

“I’m not scared,” Elphaba said as Jos spread a cream over the burn. It was more soothing than she would have herself admit. “I just hate being the center of attention.”

“Somehow I just can’t picture you as the quiet type,” he said as he wound a bandage around her hand. “From the very little I’ve known you, I’d say you’re the sort that speaks her mind.”

“She is,” Bronia interjected. “She’s just too independent for her own good.”

Elphaba glared at her.

Jos fastened the bandage. “That’s done,” he said, “and the baby’s looking better. Just make sure he stays warm, especially if you’re going outside, and hydrated, and come to me if anything else develops. And take care of that hand!”

Elphaba glanced ruefully at the bandage. “I will. Thank you. What do I owe you?”

“Owe me?” He seemed surprised. “Oh. Nothing. Any friend of Bronia’s is one of mine.”

Elphaba stared at him. “No. I have to—”

“The most I ask is that you take care of your son. Honestly.” He turned to Bronia. “And you—come to me for anything you need, remember. Come to visit too.” He smiled. “Or Fara will have my head.”

Bronia nodded. “Have a good night,” she said as she gave him a hug. “And I’ll come see you and Fara and Adita sometime, I promise.”

“That’s good, because Fara was ready to send out a search party. A good night to you too.”

Bronia stared at the closed door for a few moments after he left. “Just so you know,” she said to Elphaba, “Jos Vondar is not an old boyfriend. He and his wife helped me when I thought I was beyond all help. I owe them everything. Coming out here in the middle of the night and then going to his office and back for free is completely typical of him.”

“He’s honestly like that all the time?”

“All the time I’ve known him, and I lived with the Vondars for nearly a year. His wife is exactly the same. They have a daughter now; I’m glad. They’re amazing.”

“You did the same thing for me. Rescued me and kept me around.”

“I did?” Bronia looked surprised—the same way, in fact, that Jos had looked when Elphaba had mentioned payment. “Oh. They must have rubbed off on me, then. Speaking of you, you look tired. Should I watch Liir for you?”

“No. Thank you, but no thank you. I can watch him myself.”

So Bronia went to sleep and Elphaba stayed up with Liir.

Her feelings had changed, she suddenly realized, though she was not sure when: From the time she’d realized she was pregnant until quite a while after she’d given birth, she’d wished he’d never happened. Then she’d learned to tolerate, and was sometimes even amused, by him. Now—now she felt that if Liir died she would be devastated. She’d actually grown to enjoy him, Elphaba realized. No—she loved him.

She sat still for awhile, just processing that information. She loved Liir. She still didn’t feel like going all mushy and hugging and kissing, but that was just her personality, Elphaba realized. The little boy in her lap—not just an inconvenience anymore. Interesting—and a bit scary, because now that she knew she really felt it, and suddenly she felt a great deal more like a mother as she moved her hand, almost shyly, to stroke his hair. It felt right, somehow.