This is just a fic that came to me when I realized that in the novel, Glinda never gets to say her last goodbye to her best friend, so I just wrote a short thing to give her a chance to do that. This is mostly meant to be book-verse, but a few musical-verse things may've slipped in too... *coughcough* I'm actually not too fond of this one but I can't think of anyway to change it so... Hope you like it, anyway! :D

Wicked, Glinda, and Elphaba are not mine!

Through all of Oz, in the valleys and the mountaintops, in cities and in farms, near oceans and deserts, every creature seemed to be thinking or saying the same idea, ringing like a bell through people's ears, striking their very souls with joy.

"Good news! She's dead! The Witch of the West is dead!"

Indeed, the Witch of the West was dead. Dead at the hands of a child, what were the chances? Of course it had been an accidental death, and the young girl had felt much remorse, but the people cheered her as a hero throughout Oz, because she had killed the greatest enemy of all of the Ozian people. For years, the Witch had helped to spread fear and terror wherever she went, earning the title of Wicked, one she had seemed to bear proudly rather than shamefully. She delighted in calling herself 'The Wicked Witch of the West', like it amused her rather than angering her as the inventor of the title had probably hoped it would. And now, this Witch, after years of turmoil and wickedness, was finally gone, and she would no longer strike fear into the hearts of the Ozians.

All around, people celebrated their new freedom from the oppression of the green-skinned terror that had haunted them all for so long. None of them had known this Witch except the way everyone said she was: a ruthless, angry Witch out to destroy the Wizard and everything the people of Oz held so blindly dear.

It seemed that there was only one person left in all of Oz that remembered the way the Witch – Elphaba – had really been. She had been intelligent, caring, ambitious and imaginative, hardly the traits of a ruthless Witch. But time and fate had made her into the person she became, and there was no returning to being the young and somewhat carefree Elphaba she had once been.

Only one person was left who remembered that green-skinned woman as something other than the Wicked Witch. One person who remembered her as simply being Elphaba.

Deep in the heart of Winkie Country's western edge, a castle stood out among the stony landscape, its towers reaching up high toward the darkly clouded sky above. It was a place no one dared to go or even think of. It was pushed from the memory of almost all of those who had seen it, like it had never existed. What had once been known as the breathtaking home of the royal family of the Vinkus had now been smeared in the memory of all. For all the people of the Vinkus knew, what had remained of the royal family had disappeared forever, leaving the castle in the care of Oz's most infamous witch.

If anyone had been there that day, they would've noticed a sight familiar to all in Oz, yet never seen in this part of their world. Standing out in stark contrast to the darkened sky above, a bubble, tinted a soft pink, appeared in the sky, descending toward the towers of the castle known as Kiamo Ko. The first raindrops were falling when Glinda the Good finally stepped down from her bubble inside the castle's walls. It was very rare that Glinda should leave the Emerald City, rarer still that she should do so alone, but no one was truly aware of her absence at the moment, and she had taken advantage of that fact and casually slipped away.

For months now Oz had been in turmoil. With the Wicked Witch vanquished and the Wizard of Oz abdicating his throne at the height of the celebration, everyone seemed a bit lost. There was no real solid power at the moment – the Scarecrow had taken control. For a brief time Glinda had held the reins, but that hadn't lasted long, to her relief. She didn't think she was able to control the whole realm of Oz. Though she had matured into a public figure of the highest standing, she sometimes felt that she was still the schoolgirl she had once been at heart.

Glinda missed her simple school days, the days when all she had to do was find a way to make herself look pretty, study occasionally, put on those vague social airs she had worn in front of everyone. It had all seemed so simple back then, so easy. Now nothing was easy. She missed it all.

Most of all, she missed her roommate, now more than ever.

Elphaba. Bright, determined, hard-headed, green Elphaba. Oh, what Glinda wouldn't give to have her back! Not necessarily the woman she'd become – because Glinda was nearly certain that Elphaba had truly changed and come undone in those final days – but the young woman from the days at Shiz. The one who had only ever really wanted to help people. Everytime she thought of it, Glinda felt a twinge of regret, as if it had been her fault, as if she had been the one to let her best friend choose that dark path she'd taken instead of the way to goodness. But Glinda had to remind herself that what was done was done and there was nothing she could do about it anymore. Elphaba had chosen her own path, and there was nothing she could have done to stop these things from happening.

The Good Witch of the North let herself into the abandoned castle, which had become rather dilapidated since the death of the Wicked Witch. She carried a lantern in her hand, the only source of light she had since the castle was so dark. Glinda shivered in the cool, damp air, glancing around at the severe stone walls which were now being taken over by some sort of damp moss or something of the sort. The place was in disrepair, slowly falling apart since it had been abandoned so long ago, and it stank of something she didn't even want to begin to wonder about. The place was silent except for the slow click of her heeled shoes against the stone floor of the castle.

After a slow tour through the castle, Glinda found herself in the room where it was said to have happened. Yes, this had to be the place. She was standing in the very room where the Witch of the West was killed. Shivers ran up her spine, and not just because this room was the coldest in the entire place. She stood there a moment, goosebumps popping out all over her arms before she finally found herself collapsing to the floor, a small, barely audible sob escaping her mouth. Oh, damn these tears! She had gotten so used to putting on a warm smile and gracious air for the public that the appearance of any real emotion almost surprised her anymore.

"Oh, Elphaba…" She laid a pale hand on the stone floor to keep herself upright, salt from her tears now coating her lips. "Elphaba, Elphaba, Elphie."

In all honesty, Glinda wasn't sure how to begin, though she found herself speaking aloud, just trying to find a way to clearly express the feelings flowing through her.

"Oh, Elphie, I'm so sorry, you really must forgive me… It shouldn't have happened this way. Maybe… Maybe you wanted it to happen this way, I don't know, you were so different than you were before, back when I knew you. But it's not fair to you, to have to die in a roomful of strangers… That little girl and the rest of them in that little group… I only wish there's something I could've done to help you, Elphie, somewhere along the line. I only wish it didn't have to be like this, that you could've been different and we could've been together and things would've worked out alright, and I feel like there's something I should've done that I didn't do, and for that I'm very sorry, Elphaba."

She stopped the monologue just as suddenly as she had started, after a moment of rambling. Suddenly the kneeling witch felt a blast of warm air envelope her, almost as though she were being embraced by it. For a moment, she closed her eyes, drying the tears that coursed down her cheeks, determined that Elphaba saw her now she would merely roll her eyes and say 'Glinda, get up off the floor, you're being ridiculous. Don't rant and cry so.' At the thought, the blonde had to smile slightly. She twisted around to grab her lantern, looking at it through blurry eyes.

Perhaps it was just a trick of her mind, or the way the fire moved, but for a moment, Glinda, the Good Witch of the North could've sworn that she saw the flame inside her lantern flicker an emerald green. Somehow, it was almost a comfort to her, like her friend was reaching out to her from wherever she had gone. It was like Elphaba was accepting the apology, and returning the farewell. Glinda picked up her lantern and got to her feet, dusting off the front of her gown, glancing about one last time before uttering a few soft words into the darkness.

"Goodbye, Elphaba."

And she almost thought she heard a voice responding, from somewhere in the depths of the castle.

Goodbye, Glinda.

No one mourns the Wicked!

No one but a certain Witch of the North, that is…

Reviews are definitely appreciated, thanks for reading! :D