A/N: Okay, I was reading a bunch of Wicked fics, and this just came to me. Will probably be a oneshot, but I might add more. Trying to stay in canon with the musical, but don't get mad if there are book references! (Italics are the Ozian's song, quoted is Glinda's thoughts.)

Disclaimer: Not mine, song lyrics are from "No One Mourns The Wicked"

--------------------No One Mourns The Wicked, Or Do They?--------------------

No one mourns the wicked…

'Well, just call me No-One, then,' Glinda thought irritably. It was the second day after the death of the "Wicked Witch," and she was tired of them calling her friend "wicked."

No one lays a lily on their grave…

'Well, that's for sure, Elphaba wasn't given a grave,' Glinda reflected, 'unless you counted the little stepping-stone in my garden.' The day after Elphaba's death, Glinda had made a small stone to put in her garden that read, "Good friends are never forgotten." Glinda then had emeralds placed in a ring inside the stone, around the edge. And, as much as it pained her to live in a city the same color of her old friend's skin, Glinda could not bring herself to leave. She felt that, in some way, some how, Elphaba could come back to her. 'But that's silly,' she thought, 'Elphie's dead, and she's not coming back, no matter how much I want it, I can't change it, not by will. And, besides, she's the one with the power, she could probably bring someone back, but I can't.'

Glinda walked over to her wardrobe, and pulled out a black, cone-shaped hat. Elphaba's. She hadn't seen it since the day that… the day that Glinda the Good felt anything but good.

Now at last, she's dead and gone.

Now at last there's joy throughout the land.

'No, not throughout. My life is anything but joyful.' She let a tear escape and slide down her cheek.

"Miss Glinda?" Glinda practically jumped out of her skin at the sound of her assistant. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Your Goodness, I'll come back later, I didn't mean to disturb you."

"No, it's fine. It's just…fine." Glinda's voice was coarse, but she didn't let it waver. "What is it?" she asked as she hastily wiped her eyes and turned to face her assistant.

"Oh, the Ozians were just requesting an appearance, but if you're busy—"

"No, no, really, I'm fine." Glinda interrupted. "We've got to give the people what they want, don't we?" And, putting on an entirely false smile that was almost plastic; she walked outside and into the hullabaloo that the Ozians were making.

And, Goodness knows,

The wicked's lives are lonely,

Goodness knows,

The wicked die alone,

It just shows,

When you're wicked,

You're left only,

On your own…

Glinda sighed. At least, the Ozians were right about that. She did die alone. Almost. Glinda had been there, but she wasn't to the Ozians. To them, Elphaba was just the Wicked Witch of the West, a person to be despised and hated.

'If only they knew,' Glinda thought. 'If only they knew the truth, then they would be singing about the Wizard, and about the "Wicked Wizard of the Wastes," or something stupid like that. Why did people need these nicknames, anyway? Why am I so Good in their eyes? Is it because the Wizard said I was? Was it something I did? I don't remember the Wizard ever giving a reason for me to be called Good. And yet—the Ozians accepted it without question. Just like the way they accepted Elphie was wicked.' All these thoughts were troubling Glinda. 'Sweet Oz! I never think this much, Elphie was the thinker, I was—am­­—just the popular. Maybe that was why the Ozians accepted that "Glinda the Good" stuff. Because I'm the ideal public figure. I'm the one who everyone wants to be. And, even if Elphaba had accepted the Wizard's proposition, would Oz have accepted her this easily?

'Maybe they could have. Maybe. But, maybe not. After all, she was green. Everyone was afraid of her. Like on our first day at Shiz University. When nobody would let her come close, and then she'd proclaimed, "What? What are you looking at? Oh, do I have something in my teeth? Okay, let's get this over with. No, I'm not seasick. Yes, I've always been green. No, I didn't chew grass as a child." '

That had made Glinda want to laugh. But, as she watched the Ozians celebrate in their obliviousness, she realized, there really was a reason to celebrate. For, the day they've made a holiday is the day that she convinced—no, demanded—that the Wizard left.

'I guess they're not so thick, after all.'