A/N: Hats off to Mr Maguire for his maddening non-explanation of what really went on between Glinda and Elphaba. I still can't quite come to a conclusion myself. They both felt something, I'm sure of that, but what it was, and whether anything happened, maybe I'll never know. This is one possible theory however, inspired by the meeting in the clothes shop and the strangely coded conversation afterwards. Reviews and other comments very welcome.

I knew it. Knew the moment that he opened his mouth. Poor, simple, Fiyero, transparent as glass. And in that instant, that one hitching heartbeat of time, I hated him. I could almost have killed him.

He'd had her. I could see it on him. Once, twice, a hundred times, what did it matter? Fiyero had taken what I would never have. I'd not realised until then just how much I'd wanted her.

Elphaba. Elphie. My enemy, my greatest friend. Days together, nights all alone. When the space between our beds could have been the whole world. I couldn't have crossed it, I know that now. But, oh, how I wish she had.

I saw how she looked at me, just like I did her. Sideways, at first, and with a secret shame. Then later, as our friendship grew into – what? What was I, callow, shallow little northern girl, what was I to her?

A chain of kaleidoscope moments. Shifting, changing, whichever way you looked. Wine-soaked evenings, lazy afternoons. Blithe, girlish professions, slipping from our lips. Words always came so easily to her.

That day. That funeral day. Outside the head's room, I found myself in her arms. Mind roiling with feelings not quite my own. All I wanted was her, every single part of her. Would she, could she have given up, given in?

After, those stolen hours, those blessed, cursed nights. Would she have come to me, across the cold beds that we shared? Could I have held her, all of her, between my hands?

Now I'll never know.