A/N - Just my mindless rambling on what Elphaba must have felt towards the end. I'll appreciate any feedback.
The Witch could sense her days coming to a close. It would all be over soon, and for that she was grateful. For years now, she had housed herself in the slowly decaying form of Kiamo Ko. Though for how many years, she was not certain. Hours, days, even months passed agonizingly slowly for her. So she chose to ignore time all together.
Years of uncertainty were slowly catching up on the Witch. She was no longer sure on how to ward it off any longer. She was slowly losing her mind, and she could feel it happening. Which, in a sense was the worst part of her saddening existence. Those hours of studying, and trying to prove her worth were wasted. Maybe, she mused, imagination was more important than knowledge? She laughed at this. Glinda had certainly lived her life correctly if this was so.
The Witch had to ask herself why she was so bitter, so spiteful. Again, she laughed. All those years of pretending, possibly. Pretending that she didn't care, pretending that she could brush those cruel, scathing comments right off of her back. Of course, though, she couldn't. She wasn't sure that anyone could. Always, her green skin had been the butt of many a cruel joke, and she was made to bare through it all. What did they think she was? Some sort of impenetrable force?
She didn't really care anymore, though. There were days when she wasn't even sure she remembered her own name. Nanny seemed to be better at it than her.
Watching Liir from where she sat, the green woman's egotistical ways faded slowly away. Was he her son? There were times when she hoped not, and hoped so. She had never been the motherly type (children disgusted her), but if he was her son, that would mean he was also Fiyero's. Maybe that's how she was oddly comforted by Liir's presence. Fiyero.
Sighing, the green woman flexed her shoulders. Life confused her, and she no longer wished to live it. At points, she thought about killing herself, but her disgusting pride stopped her from doing so.
Why didn't she leave? There was nothing here to stop her, nothing to live here for. Was there? She decided that she didn't care anymore, it was too late. Her life would end here, in Fiyero's home, like his had ended in hers. And all so she could appear closer to him. It had been her fault, his death. It had been her ante for joining that damnable cause.
The Witch peered out the window, and saw a girl, a Lion, a Tinman, and a Scarecrow marching brave-like towards the castle. She knew who they were, and she had to give herself room to wonder what had taken them so long.
For fifteen years, she had lived her life lonely, but not alone, and miserably. Dorothy showing up had been a blessing to the poor, manically-depressed Witch. She had been so afraid to see what she had really needed, and for that she paid the price of her life.
As the water doused her body, the Witch felt an unbounded pain that she thought would never go away. But slowly, the pain faded into a pure, blissful release. Elphaba, as she had been known, closed her eyes and let the water drip down her body. She had needed this for so long. All Dorothy had wanted was forgiveness, and the Witch didn't doubt that. Dorothy could say what she wanted to say, but Elphaba would still say goodbye; she didn't care anymore, she couldn't go another day, she was no longer willing to lie.