AN: Hello, everyone! After seeing Wicked again, I realized that I sort of misinterpreted Glinda's character the first time around, and I wanted to try writing from her point of view now that I understand it better. This is kind of a downer of a scene to pick, but I couldn't stop thinking about it until I finished this. I hope you enjoy it!

Glinda woke up crying again, her face stained with tears.

It was horrible how accustomed she'd become to waking up like that.

Sometimes her crying was silent and dignified, as far as she could tell, but on other mornings, her throat felt raw, as if from uncontrolled sobbing. She could never tell how long she'd been weeping, something which unsettled her when she thought about it too deeply. How could she keep people optimistic if someone realized that she was more often than not a mess these days, behind her cheery, sweet demeanor?

She'd never quite recovered from that fateful day at Kiamo Ko.

She'd lost first Fiyero, her only true companion ever since Elphaba left, and then Elphaba herself, in a matter of hours. It had taken her a long time to accept that she'd never see either of them again. She still had days sometimes when she'd wanted to tell them something, only to remember that they were both gone forever.

Now approximately three years and five months had passed since then, but Glinda remembered it as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.

She'd relived it in her dreams a hundred times.

They'd fought at first, over Elphaba's apparent obsession with taking Nessa's glass slippers back from that little girl, Dorothy. (Fiyero had already been taken by the Gale Force at that point, but Glinda never seemed to dream of his death as often. Perhaps it was because, as much as she missed him and as horrible as that moment had been, she'd accepted that there was nothing she could have done to stop it.)

Glinda had pleaded for her friend to see reason. She'd been unnerved, even a little frightened, by the ferocity with which Elphaba responded.

I can do anything I want. I'm the Wicked Witch of the West.

She'd seemed to actually believe it, as if the gossip had finally, inevitably convinced her of its truth. As if even she no longer believed she was doing the right thing. Being a social outcast tended to make one insecure, and Glinda knew far too well that the only thing Elphaba had always been confident in was her morality, her passion for Animal rights. Had even that been taken from her?

But then Elphaba had received the letter about Fiyero's death, and all the coldness in her had melted, and Glinda could recognize her friend again.

Elphaba had started talking about turning herself in after that. She didn't want to fight anymore, and she was trusting Glinda to continue advocating for the Animals in her place. She thought there was nothing more she could do. I'm limited.

Unlimited, she'd once said, and the memory of that conversation, so hopeful where this one was despairing, had echoed in Glinda's ears. Together, we're unlimited.

She wished that were still true. She'd wished she'd acted when it was true.

After everything they'd been through, even after she'd been so angry at Elphaba that she'd wanted her to be caught, it hurt to see her friend admit defeat. Glinda realized with a jolt that even if luring Elphaba into a trap had worked, it wouldn't have brought her any satisfaction. Their friendship was stronger than her jealousy.

She knew that Elphaba had realized that, too. They both apologized and made their peace with the hurtful things each other had done. They'd embraced, and Glinda had done her best to convey all the things she couldn't find the words to say.

I'm sorry. For not going with Elphaba the day she became a fugitive. For giving Morrible and the Wizard the idea to target Nessa, even if they'd taken it much farther than she'd ever imagined. For wanting Elphaba to be caught, to be hurt, just because Glinda herself was hurting from Fiyero's rejection.

When Nessarose had died, and Elphaba had come to say goodbye, she'd fallen to her knees in front of the house, saying, Nessa, please, please, please forgive me…

Too late, Glinda had remembered that Elphaba blamed herself for her mother's death, and realized that this would only increase that pain. That this was far, far worse than grief, because it was adding to the deeply buried self-hatred that even Glinda had only seen glimpses of but knew was there, under the surface.

Elphie… you mustn't blame yourself, she'd said, all her anger towards Elphaba ebbing away for a moment. She hadn't known at the time that this was Morrible's doing, but she still felt awful, as if the idea to use Nessa as bait had caused fate to do this. She hated seeing her best friend in this much pain.

After she did realize what had caused the cyclone, she'd felt even worse, knowing that she had unwittingly caused Nessarose's death. She regretted that, so, so much.

More than anything, she was sorry that she hadn't been able to save Fiyero.

She'd seen the tears in Elphaba's eyes as she read that letter.

Glinda didn't know how to say any of those things, so she just clung to Elphaba as if her life depended on it. And although the other girl had become thinner and constantly tense from life as a fugitive, her arms were still warm as they held onto each other.

Glinda never wanted to forget what that embrace had felt like.

When the travelers arrived, Elphaba had told Glinda to hide, and then gone to meet them. There wasn't a single trace of doubt in her eyes.

Glinda had done as her friend wanted.

They'd both mistaken the pounding on the door as a sign heralding the arrival of the Witch Hunters, and Elphaba insisted that Glinda not become caught up in the hatred. She'd been so forceful about it that Glinda had found herself unwilling to argue. Part of it might have been fear, fear of the crowd she'd watched gather earlier and realized with sickening horror that all of this had gone much too far.

Looking back on that terrible day, she wished more than anything that she'd done something else besides hide and wait for it to be over. Anything else, if it might have prevented Elphaba from dying.

But she'd been frozen in place as Elphaba drew the curtain closed in a motion that Glinda had since come to associate with a sense of terrible finality. Elphaba met Glinda's eyes one last time, her gaze confident, like she could see what was coming and knew she could handle it. A moment later, she'd disappeared from sight.

Glinda remembered in vivid detail how Elphaba had lifted one finger to her lips in that final moment, as if to say, Shh. Stay hidden.

And so Glinda had crouched there in the shadows as quietly as she could, feeling her heartbeat hammer in her throat as she pictured the terrible mob storm into the castle and she pictured Elphaba facing them all alone. As soon as Elphaba vanished from sight, Glinda was overcome by a terribly bad feeling.

But she didn't move.

She should have moved.

Especially when he silhouettes of a little girl, a lion, the tin man, and a scarecrow appeared against the curtain instead of the pitchfork-wielding crowd. Part of Glinda had wanted to go out to stand beside her best friend and explain the situation, try to negotiate a peaceful solution. The other part of her didn't want to face the challengers, risk ruining her carefully-built reputation as Glinda the Good, not when Elphaba had just insisted that it was so important. She was torn, and so she did nothing.

Glinda's loyalty to Elphaba outweighed her need for self-preservation. She would have gone out there, or so she later tried to reassure herself, if she hadn't been told not to.

But she trusted Elphaba.

And Elphaba had been so calm, so confident.

Everything will be okay. Elphaba had never actually said those words that day, had she? But Glinda had thought them. She'd tried so hard to believe them.

And so she stayed perfectly still, even as some small part of her screamed at her to get out there and protect her best friend. That wasn't a new feeling, though—she'd always felt the need to protect Elphaba, ever since that day at the OzDust when she'd seen her dancing in the middle of the floor all by herself. It was only then that Glinda had realized exactly how vulnerable the green girl was.

She tried to tell herself that she was worrying for no reason, that Elphaba would allow herself to be taken to the Wizard, and then they would come to an agreement. He'd offered to give her a second chance before, hadn't he?

Surely they could find a solution now.

Everything will be okay.

Then the horrible scene had unfolded. Elphaba's pained cries had filled Glinda's ears, and she'd gone rigid with shock in her hiding place.

Elphaba had never been harmed by water before.

She couldn't be melting.

Could she?

Maybe it hadn't been water in the bucket. Maybe—

"Elphie?" Glinda whispered, once the commotion had died away and she was sure that the motley group of creatures had departed from the castle. There was no response. Trying not to panic, she called out again. "Elphie?"

She shivered in the silence that fell as the last echoes of her voice faded away.

It was then that she knew, deep down, what had happened. Dread seeped into her heart, making her feel almost numb with terrible anticipation. Shakily, she got to her feet; she wasn't sure how long she'd sat there, or whether she was trembling with stiffness or fear. Needing to see with her own eyes what had happened—somehow still hoping for the best but fearing the worst—she pulled the curtain aside.

All that was left of her best friend was that old hat.

Glinda sank to her knees and picked it up, as if Elphaba could somehow be hiding underneath. But there was no one there, just smooth stone floor.

She clutched the hat to her chest and broke down crying.

Since that day, she'd been forced to see that memory over and over again, and the overwhelming shock had given way to uncertainty and unease. Why had Elphaba been so calm when she went to confront her pursuers? Why had she told Glinda to hide?

Had Elphaba known that she was going to die?

It well may be, she'd said just a few minutes earlier, that we will never meet again...

But if she'd known, then why would she go to face them? Why would she tell Glinda to hide, to do nothing at all to defend her? Why would she let her best friend stay there and watch, helplessly, as they killed her? Why?

After Fiyero had been killed, had she just given up?

That was the most horrible question of all.

I should have stayed with her, Glinda thought now, wiping her tears away with a sort of painful familiarity. She'd thought of Elphaba as impossibly strong, able to handle anything. She never would have guessed that she might give up. But anyone would give up eventually if they didn't see any kind of hope left.

I should never have promised I wouldn't clear her name. But she had made that promise, and she didn't intend to break it.

She had to honor Elphaba's memory in a different way.

You can do all I couldn't do, Glinda. Now it's up to you… for both of us.

That's right, Glinda thought, steeling herself. That was the reason she kept going, day after day, even when she woke up screaming and crying as she remembered Elphaba's death. She'd made a lot of progress on restoring Animal rights since she forced the Wizard to relinquish his title. She wished Elphaba could see Oz now.

But there was still so much to do.

She wished her best friend was there to help her.

She had a lot of wishes that would never come true.

But she had to keep going, one day at a time. She had to fix everything, to the best of her ability. She might have wasted years of her life trying to creature the perfect image to block out the imperfect reality beneath it, but now she knew what was real mattered even more than appearances. Elphaba had taught her that.

The rest of her life had to mean something. For both of us.