Gelphie - Post Canon

gelphie - post canon

pieces of a post-canon gelphie that may or may not come to be

~~~

It takes Glinda four hours to stop crying. It takes her four days to realize that Elphaba shouldn’t have died. It takes her four weeks to figure out what she’s going to do about it. And it takes her four years before she finally manages to succeed. 

It’s the longest four years of her life. 

~~~

Glinda keeps her promise. She does not order Elphaba’s name cleared, and she does not issue a pardon. She allows her citizens their celebrations, but she also makes sure to see that all the posters are torn down, the banners burned, and the paintings scrubbed clean from any buildings. She erases all signs and evidence of the Wicked Witch and what she may or may not have looked like. 

She erases all signs of Elphaba, so thoroughly that, sometimes, Glinda sits in her room with a pen in her hand and a blank sketchbook in her lap, and she is afraid. She is afraid of forgetting.

Is it true you were her friend?

~~~

Sometimes, Glinda has dreams. She dreams of rose petals and snowfall and secrets whispered into the night. There's a certain peace to these dreams, even if she always wakes to tears dripping down her face. 

Most of the time, though, Glinda has nightmares.

~~~

“What do you mean ‘leave’? Oz needs you!”

Glinda sighs, a hefty thing filled with hope and fear and longing and regret. It’s been years, and it’s been hard, but the truth is: Oz doesn’t need her anymore. Not the way it used to. It can last a few months on its own. 

“You’ll be fine,” she tells them. “Oz is in good hands.”

“Will you at least tell us where you’re going?”

The Good Witch turns her head to the west, her eyes finding the distant horizon. 

“I’m going home.”

~~~

Tell me a secret.

Promise me!

Hold out, my sweet.

Is it true you were her friend?

~~~

Glinda sways, the adrenaline of the moment fading as she feels the weeks of travel, the months of planning, the years, really, of worry and guilt and sorrow and grief wash over her with the force of an avalanche.

It rumbles and breaks and crashes against her, burying her in hazy white that creeps over her vision so slowly she doesn’t even realize what’s happening until she feels herself fall, and the ground rush up to her as her world fades to black.

The last thing she sees is the unmistakable sight of green skin.

~~~

“You can let go now, Glinda,” Elphaba says. 

Glinda just shakes her head and buries her nose further in the dip of Elphaba’s neck. She can’t quite breathe, but the idea of letting Elphaba out of her arms terrifies her too much to care. She’s drowning and burning and slipping from reality, something like hysteria clogging up her throat. 

She can’t. She can’t she can’t she can’t. 

 “Glinda?” Elphaba’s voice has softened with concern as she realizes Glinda isn’t just crying. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

Glinda doesn’t believe her. Can’t believe her. Because Elphaba has said it before. Elphaba has promised she wouldn’t leave her before. But she did. She left. And the moment Glinda opens her eyes or dares to let go, it’ll be like she died all over again.

And she just- she can’t.