Glinda woke to the sound of rustling. The room was lit only by the moon streaming in through the window and she blinked her eyes open. Shadows danced across the room, drawing funny patterns on the sheets. Elphaba paced silently, walking back and forth across the moon, blocking and unblocking the beam of light as it struggled to reach Glinda's eyes. Elphaba sat down at the desk, took a pen in her hand and began writing. Glinda watched curiously, still unmoving. She watched as Elphaba glided over to her old, ratty suitcase, drawing out a long dress and putting it back in the drawer. Glinda's eyes flitted over to her own suitcase, packed and waiting by the door to be boarded onto the coach the next morning. Elphaba was unpacking.
"You're not leaving."
Elphaba froze. She turned to Glinda, speechless for once, and stared.
"You're staying here." Glinda spoke again, a waver in her voice. "You're making me go back to that horrid place all by myself."
"Glinda-" she began, her voice unnaturally soft, her sharp nose silhouetted in the moonlight. It could cut glass.
"Why would you do that?" her voice broke and Elphaba stood, a blackened creature against the white of the moon. Glinda finally moved, turning only her head to follow Elphaba's motion. Elphaba sat on the edge of the bed and studied Glinda. The blonde laid on her back, her elbows out and bent back, her small hands rested by her head. She wore a soft white nightgown, just loose enough to not strain across her chest. Her stomach was flat, slowly rising up and down with the breaths she took. The sheets were pulled up to her waist. Her eyes looked directly into Elphaba's, lips slightly parted, blonde waves pooled about her shoulders. She'd never looked more vulnerable. "I can't be me without you."
Elphaba tilted her head. "That's hardly true." As if on instinct, her hand reached out, light green in the shine of the moon, highlighting the boniness of her knuckles, she wound a lock of blonde hair around her fingers. Glinda tensed.
"Don't touch me."
Elphaba's flicked to the blue ones. "What?" She couldn't remember the last time Glinda had been afraid of her.
"You can't touch me."
Glinda rendered Elphaba speechless for the second time that night and Elphaba turned her head away, stung. No one had ever refused her in such a way. It had always been her skin, or her brains, or her bookishness. Never this. Never Glinda. She gritted her teeth, determined to win. It couldn't end like this. Glinda rolled onto her side, facing the window, the edge of the bed. Elphaba slid under the covers behind her, turned to face her. She held a finger in the air, hovering it behind Glinda's bare upper back. She moved it forward, grazing the impossibly soft skin with the cushiest part of her fingertip. Glinda didn't move, didn't tense further. She moved the green finger back and forth, grazing the barely protruding shoulder bones with each pass. Glinda's breathing slowed, her muscles unclenched. Elphaba didn't stop her motions, kept her finger gliding over Glinda's smooth skin.
"You shouldn't stay here," she said.
"I'll think about leaving with you," Elphaba replied, looking past Glinda's silhouetted shoulder to the moon outside the window.
"I'm not enough to change your mind," was the soft reply.
Glinda sat alone on the carriage, staring absentmindedly through the open door and into the crowd. The coach wiggled as Elphaba jumped onto the platform and Glinda looked up. Elphaba did not step further, did not slide into a seat and off the platform, did not have her suitcase with her. The green woman spoke to her, said words Glinda couldn't comprehend and she stood, feeling her arm betray her and grab Elphaba's, her lips seek green ones. And then the coach was moving and she fell back into her seat, reeling around to look for Elphaba, who wouldn't be a shadow, wouldn't be silhouetted. But she couldn't see her at all.