There is silence. There is blood.
There is a moment where the darkened room slides out of focus, shadows distorting through tears that are not allowed to fall. A rush of fire to the head burns the voices that dare to attempt irrationality.

There will be time. There will be a tomorrow.
But another part shakes and trembles and overcomes the numbness and it stings, and there is only want, the want to forget it all.

There had been foolishness—there had been love.
The feeble doorframe groans under the sagging weight. Shaking fingers claw at the splintered wood, desperately searching for something, anything, to cling to.

There is no more reason, for it, like everything, is lost.
Mad laughter spills into the street and mingles discordantly with the rain. What might have been a soul flies far away and leaves a broken shell on the pavement.

There is a flood of relief as the water touches, a strange bliss beyond the burning pain.
There is anguish and guilt and above all, regret.

And then there is nothing.

Author's Note: Elphaba runs out into the rain after Fiyero dies. In case anyone didn't get that.