Author's Note: Just another oneshot, it popped into my mind around 3 in the morning today, so…enjoy. Oh, and no, it in no way relates to my other stories.
Glinda the Good rolls over in her large, comfortable bed, tangled up among the pink sheets, unable to sleep. Again. She squints in the darkness at the hazy outline of the clock on the wall. Two A.M. She sighs, sits up and rubs her eyes and swings her legs over the edge of the bed.
She gets out of bed slowly and drifts over to the large window across the room, she pulls back the heavy velvet curtains to reveal an inky black sky, dotted with millions of tiny stars. Glinda leans her head against the cool glass of the window and lets a little sigh escape from her lips. She looks upward at the twinkling stars; they are so beautiful, so bright and…permanent. There are so many of them.
It's times like this she feels so small.
She had been doing this a lot lately- waking up in the early hours of morning and watching the stars. Ever since Elphie had died, sleep was not an easy thing for Glinda.
Glinda's eyes burn with unrequited tears of sorrow and her throat constricts painfully. The demise of her best friend had been only a week earlier. It seemed so hard to get through everyday now. To get up every morning, dress up, address crowds of joyous citizens, and plaster on a false smile. Walking through the crowded Emerald City, waving dutifully at the people who passed her, calling out enthusiastic greetings. She felt that every smile, every speech, every wave was out of pure obligation for the people of Oz.
Another barely audible sigh slips from Glinda's lips. Yes, this past week had been hard for her, but she was totally and completely fine. Many people-too many people-had seen and commented on Glinda's distressed, drawn face and many had asked her, in concerned voices, if she was quite well. She always answered with, "Yes, I'm fine. Too many balls and dinner parties. This week has been so hectic!" and then ended with a very practiced, toothy smile.
She draws her knees up to her chest, lets her body slump against the window and closes her eyes. As she sits there in the still, dark, room, listening to her own quiet breathing, she realizes she's ravenous. It makes sense, she guesses, since for the last week her appetite has seemingly been nonexistent, so every meal she has been offered has been turned down.
Glinda slides off the window seat and grabs a plush pink robe out of her wardrobe, pulls in on and stealthily slips out of her chambers into the hallway. She pads down the empty hallway, footsteps echoing eerily. She makes her way down the stairs, in a strange, hazy dream state.
Glinda goes through the unlit dining room and pushes through the door that leads to the kitchen. She flips on the light, and blinks rapidly as the light floods her vision. She goes around the large kitchen, pulling open cupboards and drawers taking out various items of food.
Once making her way back upstairs quietly, and settling with the food in her room, she examines what she hastily pulled from the kitchen, a loaf of bread, grapes and a single orange.
She pushes away the loaf of bread, the thought of chewing on the dry pieces of bread with her already dry mouth makes her sick to her stomach for some unexplainable reason. She picks up the bunch of green grapes, which make her think faintly of Elphie, and just as she's about to pop one in her mouth, she changes her mind and shoves them into a drawer of her nightstand. She's fine. She's totally and completely fine.
Glinda picks up the orange and carefully examines it.
She starts pulling back some of the peel with her nail. The tangy, citrus smell of the orange fills the air.
Because of course she is fine. Fine. She succeeds in tearing off a rather large piece of peel.
Glinda pulls off the rest of the peel and begins to carefully separate the little sections of orange. She takes one of pops it into her mouth. It tastes sweet and sticky.
I'm fine, she had told the people who asked if she was well. Glinda shakes her head and shoves another piece of orange into her mouth.
I'm fine, was the phrase that she always thought when her eyes first opened in the morning, in an effort to make herself feel better…feel anything.
Fine, fine, fine, fine. The word echoes through her mind, making her hands shake and her bottom lip tremble. Glinda turns her head and catches sight of herself in the mirror.
The reflection of the young woman staring back is hardly recognizable. The woman that Glinda knows is calm, lovely, and happy. The woman who looks back at Glinda has messy hair, her face is pinched, eyes sad, every part of her face seems to frown.
Glinda shakes her head and she peers again at the woman in the mirror. "I'm not fine," she whispers in wonder and sorrow letting a tear slip down her cheek.
So it is there, sitting on her bed, peering into a mirror while tangy, sticky juices from the orange flow down her chin, Glinda is able to admit to herself she is not okay.
Glinda drops the rest of the sticky orange on her bed and crumples, letting the tears that she had been holding back for the past week, sting her eyes and flow down her cheeks.
Sobs wrack Glinda's petite body. She is not fine. She misses Elphie. She wishes that she were still here.
It feels so good to cry, it's such a blessed relief to let all the tears she refused to cry from the start escape from her. It felt as if her eyes had been dry for so long, that she was almost thirsty for these tears.
Glinda picks herself off the bed and with all the energy left in her body, pulls herself over to the window seat and kneels upon it, looking out upon the night sky. She presses one hand to the cool glass and watches the stars, tears streaming down her face. She cries for herself, for Elphaba, for what had been, what was and what might have been.
Her tears slow, but she stays on the window seat, hand pressed against the window, staring up at the ebony sky. The stars look like tiny diamonds suspended in the air.
No, she may not be fine. It'll probably take a long time for her to ever be "fine". But for right now, all she needs is to grieve, and remember Elphaba as she was. Strong courageous and determined.
Glinda stays there on her knees, listening to the breeze rustling the leaves of the tress outside, the sound of her own quiet breathing and the soothing, rhythmic beat of her heart.
Author's Note: So there it is. It came to me on a whim, so be nice. You know what to do now, my readers, click on the little blue button and review! Pwease? I promise, for those of you who are waiting for the 11th chapter of Hidden, No More, that chapter 11 will be up soon! Promise. But I the meantime…some reviews for this wouldn't hurt my feelings. You'll find reviews make me work faster…wink, wink. Haha. Have a great day everyone!