Title: For Elphie

Author: Angel Leviathan

Disclaimer: Wicked, characters, concept, etc, aren't mine.

Spoilers: Anything, everything.

Notes: I saw the West End production of the musical recently and this whole idea came from how sad Helen Dallimore looked at the end of the show, up in the bubble, all hunched over and clutching the grimmerie.

She knew it would be most unexpected of such a prominent public figure, such a good hearted, gentle woman, to visit a criminal in the prison of Southstairs. She had no reason to deal with prisoners herself, even those she had sent there – there were people who had dedicated their lives to doing such tasks, people who now loved and adored her as their saviour.

Glinda had no idea just how angry she was until she came face to face with Madam Morrible through the bars of a dank, dark, prison cell.

"Miss Glinda, you-"

"I can take it from here, thank you," she smiled her winning smile, and gently touched the shoulder of the officer who had escorted her to the cell, "I'll be fine. Your concern is most touching, my dear," she bobbed her head, "Run along now," she encouraged. Another smile and he was gone, reluctantly, but gone all the same.

"Well, well. Isn't this a pleasure," Morrible's smile may have been more real than hers, but it was cruel, and Glinda felt the urge to wipe it from her face rise within her.

She supposed the urge must have been similar to those Elphaba used to have that caused such commotion.


"I hope you're learning your lesson," Glinda said, almost brightly.

Morrible approached the bars of her cell, "No one mourns the wicked…" she whispered, voice harsh, "It is you who is learning, my dear, not myself…"

"You're despicable!" she hissed, sudden tears in her eyes.

"You can lock me in this cell for the rest of my life – it makes no difference. My message is out there and you are so kind as to be spreading it throughout Oz so convincingly on a daily, no, hourly…basis…"

"Shut up!" Glinda shrieked, rushing the bars and losing her composure completely. Her wand fell from her fingers and she only just managed to spark off a whirl of magic to cushion its fall and stop it from shattering.

"No one misses her… She was the scourge of this earth and everyone despised her, be it for her ridiculous greenification or her outspoken and wicked nature…" Morrible continued, same smile still plastered on her face, "No one cares the green girl is gone…the Wicked Witch is dead and they are dancing in the streets and in rejoycifiying in their homes that she is finally gone from their lives!" she laughed.

"You shut your mouth!" she cried, "You stop right now!"

"You don't fool me, with all your glitter and smiles and filthy goodness…" the former headmistress gripped the bars of her cell with both hands, "You wanted this…you don't have the strength to admit the truth and you hate it! You caused this! You and your need to be loved and be so much better than us all!"

"You killed Nessa!" Glinda breathed, backing away, legs weak.

"You suggested it, you coward of a girl. You're not even a woman. You're a naïve child in a glittering frock! You wanted revenge and you got it! It was Elphaba Thropp or Galinda Upland and you selfishly chose yourself!"

"I never chose!"

"No…I suppose you didn't…you let everyone else decide for you…" Morrible stepped back, "As always. What does it matter anymore? The Witch of the West is dead and they are singing your praises…you have their hearts and their minds…you have everything you ever wanted…"

Torn between sobbing and attempting to tear the woman before her apart, Glinda fell to her knees, muddying her perfect dress, "I. Mourn. Her," she stated, through clenched teeth, "I mourn her!" she raised her voice, "You turned her into something she wasn't! Why? Because she had conviction, she knew what was right, and none of us did? What gave you the right? You couldn't stand it that she had more power than you ever-"

"And neither could you!" Morrible crowed.

"Maybe not! Maybe sometimes I hated her!" Glinda shot back, "But she was a better person than any of us will ever be! Call me weak and stupid and fake all you want, but even in death she's more famous than you'll ever be! History won't remember Madame Morrible – she'll be eclipsed by the ever so Wicked Witch of the West!"

"…Say all you want, child. She is gone and there's nothing you can ever do about it."

She snatched her wand from the floor and clambered almost inelegantly to her feet, "Maybe so. But I mourn her. And it will be enough…"

"It will never be enough," Morrible smiled once more.

"I hope you rot in whatever hell exists…"

"Why, Miss Glinda, that was most unbecoming…"

Glinda turned her back on the cell and began to walk away, "Maybe so…or maybe that was for Elphie…"