#is this wizard of oz but queer(er) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

forkanna · 6 years ago

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Trigger warning for gross male behaviour and attempted sexual assault. And continuing racism.

And yes, I know it's a dumb thing to throw in a Back To The Future easter egg when that has nothing to do with the Wizard of Oz. Leave me alone and let me have my fun! I had always intended to have something like this happen in this chapter, but seeing the #MeToo stories after Harvey Weinstein was accused (yes, it was written that long ago) made me feel it was necessary to make sure it was part of the fic, to not just gloss over it. Writing these kind of scenes is always very tricky, especially to make them real and graphic enough to make an impression on the reader without making it seem like I enjoyed writing them. I don't, didn't, and can't. Hopefully this hits the intended note.

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"I said, wake up, girl!"

The word "up" had been punctuated by a slap across her face. Elphaba jerked up, eyes fluttering as she tried to shrug off the disorientation.

She was in some sort of office. The trimmings were bare and grubby, and a wooden desk was off to one side of her, laden down with papers and assorted odds and ends. Much more of interest to her were the two men, wearing some sort of domed helmets with emblems on the front of them, and blue button-up shirts with stars over the left breast. One had a handlebar moustache, curling up at the ends; the other a full beard.

"She's comin' 'round," one of them muttered. Her eyes were still a bit blurry to focus fully on which had spoken.

"Wha… where am I? Munchkinland?" The blue was her only hint so far.

"Police station," the bearded one said shortly.

"You're in a heap o' trouble, missy," the other one chuckled. "What 'n the Sam Hill d'you think you was gonna do with that poor li'l girl? Or don't I wanna know the answer?"

Now her brain was beginning to demystify, and she sat up a little straighter. "Me? What are you doing with her? Drugged up so badly she can barely move, she can't control her bladder! It's disgraceful!"

A hand reached up to fist in her hair, drawing her head back. Elphaba felt her heart drop, pain flare along her roots, but she kept her eyes narrowed and stabbing up into his all the while. "What you say to me, negro? I oughtta-"

"Jeb," the other man sighed warningly. A half-second later, Jeb sat back and released her, and he rolled his eyes toward the ceiling before he said flatly, "Y'know you ain't supposed to be in there. Staff only, and that don't mean cleanin' girls."

"It seems to me that you should be asking why a perfectly normal girl has been shocked, and beaten, and given medicine that she doesn't need," Elphaba snapped immediately. She saw Jeb straining to react, but he seemed to remember the other man's warning and restrained himself.

"Ain't your business, y'hear? An' what were you tryin' to do with all that in the pack?"

When Elphaba didn't respond right away, not sure she should, Jeb stood and retrieved said pack. Inside were her spare dresses and the fruit. "Ain't never seen no dress like these before. You straight from one o' them boats, come to America?"

"Excuse me?" Not that she knew what an America was.

"Maybe she ain't coloured in the same way," the bearded man mused, stroking it as he thought. "Could be an Injun girl. Skin ain't dark enough."

"Is that what this is about? My skin tone?" That was the most absurd thing she had ever heard. She'd finally gotten rid of that absurd green hue, and it still wasn't good enough for these uniformed hooligans! And her current colouring was perfectly normal! Some people just wanted to find something to fight about, no matter how preposterous.

"Hush up," Jeb snapped. Then he leaned a little further forward. "Seems to us you was about to kidnap that poor filly. Don't know what a coloured girl wants with a white girl, 'cept to sell 'er off."

She moved to fold her arms over her chest, and only then did she feel metal enclosing her wrists and keeping them behind her back. The metal was warm by now, which might have been why she didn't notice right away. "You- those are my things. Didn't have a thing to do with Dorothy; I only wanted to stop in and see how she was doing, and good thing I did!"

"You really don't know what you done wrong? I ain't never heard a coloured girl try and weasel her way outta trouble so bad as this. Know what I think?"

"Jeb…"

"Think you're one o' them queer women. Like the widows over yonder in Boston." He stood and began to walk in a slow circle to stand behind her. "Kidnappin' a poor li'l farm girl… or maybe you's thinkin' you'd ransom her back to her folks, if she had any. Or white slavery, like I said afore."

"Enough." Sighing again, the bearded man turned back to Elphaba, all business. "Don't matter why you done it. Trouble is, even if you ain't been caught doin' more than just bein' in the wrong place, we can't turn y' loose into the street; gotta make an example of you."

The man with the mustache smiled at his companion. "Put her in the pen for the night? Ought to make her think twice."

"Reckon that'll do it," he sighed, looking distinctly queasy about the prospect. Not that Elphaba understood much of this; she understood she had trespassed, due to needing a key that didn't belong to her in order to enter Dorothy's room, but given that the girl was being kept against her will and mistreated, she couldn't summon any remorse for her own actions.

"Fine," she snapped in irritation. "Put me in this 'pen' of yours." After all, she wouldn't be in there for more than half of a day at the most before a magic belt would rescue her. The simplest solution was to stop fighting against these matters and wait for them to resolve themselves with her complete and utter disappearance.

They seemed to readily accept her suggestion. In short order, she was dragged out of the chair and thrown into a small cell bordered by iron bars, taking the cuffs off just before shutting the door — or gate, as might be a more accurate description when it was made entirely of bars. A handful of other prisoners were in there already, but most of them were seated against the wall or curled up against the bars. One bench was in the cell, and it was already taken up by a lump of someone trying to sleep.

"A night in there oughtta make you more cooperative," Jeb sneered.

"As if I haven't been entirely cooperative up until now!" she shouted at their retreating backs, completely affronted. "You're the ones who've been treating me without any shred of courtesy!"

Realising they weren't going to bother with her any further for the rest of the night, she watched as the bearded man chatted with Jeb for a moment before leaving the room, then Jeb settled himself in a chair. Bored, she turned back to the rest of the cell.

Immediately, she noticed several sets of eyes focused upon her. Some felt like leers, some were openly hostile. But some of them were merely curious. Elphaba looked around for somewhere to sit away from the door. There was no empty space. So she stepped to one side of the gate and leaned back against the wall, trying to make herself comfortable.

It was some time, perhaps the greater portion of an hour, before one of the men staggered over to the latrine. Elphaba averted her eyes.

"Whassa matter, girl?" One of the other prisoners was addressing her, not the one relieving himself. "Never seen one o' those before?"

"I haven't," she told him firmly through her teeth. "And I've survived this long without it, so no thank you."

"Whoo-ee! You sure do talk purty."

Elphaba decided against acknowledging the dubious compliment. Instead, she pretended to be vaguely interested in a spot on the ceiling. After a moment or two, another man joined in: "Yeah, one of them educated coloureds. Bet we can find more better uses for that mouth."

While a couple of them chuckled, one in the corner with extremely shaggy hair, beard and eyebrows groaned, "Lyle, will you shove it? Some of us is tryin' to sleep."

"And I'm tryin' to have a little fun here. We got us a woman in here with us, can't go nowhere, an' all you wanna talk about is sleepin'? You ain't a real man."

"And you ain't no gentleman or you wouldn't talk like 'at." There was some booing, so the man fell silent, but he had made his point known.

Things grew silent for a while. Elphaba was beginning to think maybe the novelty of her arrival had worn off, and she would be able to pass the time in relative silence. It was a bit premature.

"Listen," said "Lyle" as he approached her an hour or so later, voice quieter. He smelled strongly of some powerful kind of drink, and looked as if he normally shaved but hadn't bothered in several days. The hair atop his head was thinning and he was missing a tooth, and even without these factors, he wasn't a terribly appealing specimen. "You and I both know you ain't a lady, so it ain't any kind o' discourtesy for me not to be no gentleman."

"We do, do we?" she muttered shortly.

"Yeah." His hand came to rest on her waist, and she had to resist the urge to immediately fling it off. But she was biding her time. "C'mon, now… let's have some fun, girl. Stuck in this hog pen… we can have ourselves a waller."

Her smile was ingratiating. She had seen Glinda do it enough times to manage a similar effect, even if not quite. But the man was drunk enough that he couldn't catch the biting sarcasm. "Enlighten me. What is a 'waller' and why should we have it?"

"You know."

"I don't. But perhaps if you explain it, we could find out my opinion on the matter."

One of the men whistled and then laughed, and Lyle shot him a glare. But he didn't bother to divert his attention from his current goal any further. Turning back with a grin, he leaned in close to her ear to whisper, "I'll make a woman outta you. Right here up against these bars. Open you up and see if you's brown on the inside, too."

"Mmm," she cooed. "Well, I definitely know exactly what the chances of that are."

"Oh, you do, do you?"

"Yes."

There was something about Elphaba and her habits during their days on the run from the Wizard's forces and Morrible's wrath that almost seemed unimportant. Even though she did learn a few spells that would help she and Glinda clean and keep house, mostly, they had learned to do it by hand. Two years of housekeeping, scrubbing, shifting boulders or furniture, woodworking to make new furniture. It got even worse during the weeks at Kiamo Ko Keep; there was a lot of work to be done, and they all pitched in to make the space liveable. Once they had made the Royal Palace their home, Elphaba had fully intended to put those days of hard physical labour behind her completely… but she had only spent a few nights lying awake, feeling too restless to sleep, before she figured out why. After that, she had resumed a regular amount of work; when the Palace staff rebelled, telling her that it was their job to take care of such things and not the job of a Councilwoman, she began doing some of the same actions without any obvious gain other than maintaining that use of energy to which her body had become accustomed. And a bit of woodworking as a hobby; Glinda and she had done it together, and occasionally, Nessa joined them.

All of which might appear to some as irrelevant… until Elphaba grasped the man's wrist and forced it away with relative ease, despite his superior size.

"O-ow, hey, what're-"

"The chances are less than zero," she told him in a firm tone, her smile turning cold and sinister. Something else she had a lot of practice with now. "I am not a 'girl', and I am not interested in a 'waller' with you. And regardless of what hue I am on the inside, you will never discover that. Do we have an understanding?"

"Listen, you bi- AH!" The twisting of the wrist in the direction that it certainly didn't go cut off his protestation, and his face contorted in sheer pain. "Giddoff, giddoff!"

"Do we… have… an understanding?"

"Yes'm! Leggo, please!"

Finally, she did, and he cradled his arm as he slunk back to his corner of the cell. Now she could tell most of the eyes were on her, regarding her with suspicion, wariness. Anger as if she had disappointed them by not being at all what they had been expecting. Only one man looked faintly amused and pleased, and that was the one who had told Lyle to calm down earlier.

It was going to be a much longer night than she first predicted.

~ o ~

It was the wee hours of the morning when Lyle struck again. Elphaba had been dozing off and on, as had most everyone in the cell. The man who had been sleeping on the single bench was released by Jeb at some point, and another man along the wall took his place when no one else claimed it fast enough. She felt somewhat offended that no one had thought to offer it to the single lady present, but then again, these men of Kansas seemed to have no idea about proper manners. It was the kind of thing that would have had Glinda screaming at them to behave.

The thought of Glinda had made her smile as she curled up against the wall, where the man now in the cot had been. Feeling the slight warmth of the floor in the spot and finding it comforting in a moment when she had little comfort. That, and the thought of her beloved.

That's what she was, after all. They were right to plan for a marriage. She had only been resistant to the notion because such pomp did not suit her preferences, which were to keep to herself and her circle of friends. Being in charge of the fate of Oz, even partially, had not been something she sought on its own merits — only to ensure that their world was not made any worse. Now that Ozma could be in charge, taking the larger share of the spotlight and being the people's favourite, she was much happier.

But Glinda wanted to do things properly, and she wouldn't deny her that. Besides… even if she didn't feel the same need to show her off in front of Lurline and everyone, she was proud of her roommate. Proud and highly fond. Two lovers often married if they intended to remain lovers, and if that was expected of her, she would gladly do it. For Glinda's sake.

She couldn't know how much time had slipped past while she slept when she felt a hand somewhere it certainly didn't belong. Her eyes flashed open to see Lyle's smirking face as he continued to pet up and down the back of her thigh.

"No."

"Now, now, I gave you time to think on it," he whispered, not stopping in the slightest. "Hopin' you'd see sense on yer own. But you ain't."

"No, Lyle."

His smile vanished, replaced by a colder look. "Ain't no negro woman gonna tell me 'no'. We can either have a good time, or you can have a bad one, an' I'll have a good'n anyhow. Really want it that way?"

All the while he spoke, her stomach had been churning to feel him doing something that was not his right to do. If she had her magic, he would have been incinerated for daring to ignore her wishes. As it was… "You're not going to have any kind of time. Get… your hand… off."

"Suit yerself." And he began to pull her dress up.

This time, when she grasped his arm, he was ready, and his other hand came up to stop hers. The arm beneath her body was trapped, so she couldn't use two on him, and was busy struggling with the one as his hand was free to keep pulling until she was partially exposed. Her face flushed with embarrassment and anger, and she wanted nothing more than to kill him where he stood. Why did she feel trapped? He was nothing to her, and his strength negligible. Somehow, the fact that he was attacking her in such a disgusting way made her feel a certain shame that she couldn't quite articulate. As if speaking out against him, or forcing him away, would be admitting that this was happening in the first place. And she didn't want that.

"Don't fuss now," he kept on as he pet her bare thigh. Bile tried to make its way up her throat, and her eyes stung. "A little fun an' you can go back to sleep." When she tried to sit up, he shoved her back down. "I said… don't fuss."

But she was definitely going to fuss. It seemed that he had thought that little show of force was going to be enough to quiet her protests. It wasn't; instead, it was just enough to prompt the stubborn witch into action.

"GUARD!" she shouted in a voice that might even have carried outside the building. "Handle your prisoners!"

The hand on her arm moved up to clamp over her mouth. That might have cut off another shout, but it also was the wrong move. She was able to pop up to a sitting position with her other arm propped up against the ground. Even better: due to the way he was crouched over her, it was a simple matter for her other arm to flash upward and injure the part of his anatomy driving him to perpetrate such acts of perversion.

The howling of pain was what brought Jeb to the door of the cell. By the time he arrived, a few of the other prisoners were awake and staring at Lyle as he curled in on himself, rolling around and clutching between his own legs. Elphaba was fully sat up with her back straight, eyes narrowed down at him.

"Wasn't that fun?" she flung at him in a growl.

"Alright, alright!" the guard snapped at all the men who were either wincing or chortling at Lyle's misfortune. "You already causin' trouble, girl?"

"She got me good! Oh… oh, I ain't never gonna have no kids!"

"Like you was gonna have kids, anyway, Lyle." His eyes swept back to Elphaba and he glared right back at her. "Don't make me come in there after ya."

Grin dark and vicious, she snapped, "I don't care what you do, pissant. Clearly, you are tasked with keeping order in this place, and clearly, you are not up to that task."

There was a whistling and a laughter of a different kind coming from the rest of her fellow inmates now. Jeb didn't appreciate it, as the way his cheeks flushed and his eyes narrowed seemed to suggest. Curling and uncurling his fists, he reached for the keyring and snapped at her, "Get up, girl."

"What if I don't?"

"I'm gonna put you in a different cell. Don't get up, and it'll be just you and Lyle."

"Fate worse 'n death," said the man who had also jeered at her along with Lyle. A few chuckles accompanied her as she pushed her dress back into place, then slowly stood and approached the bars.

"Hands behind your back, and turn around." She obeyed. Once the door was open, he immediately put the manacles he'd used before around her wrists. They were of an unusual design, and tightened just enough for her wrists; even while she was still furious about what had happened, annoyed that no one seemed to care, she was curious about how such a device was made.

"Can we come, too?" asked one of the men in the corner. He was ignored, though a couple of the others laughed. They seemed to do that a lot.

Jeb took her around the corner to another cell. This one was much smaller, filthier, and had only a wooden plank in the corner to serve as a cot. He unlocked the door and shoved her inside, and she staggered to lean against a wall before she could regain her balance. Then she whirled to glare at him.

"You know, the way a man treats his equals is not a measure of his character. It's how he treats those in an inferior position. Think about that every time you remember how you shoved a woman in handcuffs around."

Jeb glared at her for a long moment. Then he drew his hand back and brought it hard across the side of her face. She felt her body collide with the wall, the room spun, but she did not fall. She fought off the dizziness and forced herself to stand again, to glare at him as a copper flavour began to blossom along her taste buds.

"Had just about enough o' your mouth, whore. Come in here, makin' me look bad in front o' Hoss, in front o' the other prisoners. An' you jus' a coloured girl, ain't nobody important, actin' like you is. That's enough outta you, y'hear?"

Elphaba glared daggers at him for a long moment. Then she worked her mouth until she had a good, thick gob and spat it into his face. The splotch of red blood mingled with the saliva made quite a pattern outward from his cheek, and he flinched in shock.

"What colour is that on your face? My blood. That you don't deserve to touch, but you caused it to be there. What a disgusting excuse for a person you are."

He reached up to backhand her again, but this time she ducked the blow and he connected with the wall instead. Taking her opportunity, she lashed out with her leg and shoved at his stomach so that he staggered back out of the cell. Desperately, she wanted to break free, to run, but he was already struggling to his feet, he would definitely catch her with minimal effort. She didn't even know if she could turn the knob to the entrance of the building with her arms pinned in such a way.

So she kicked the door to the cell shut. It latched with a loud CLANG.

"Damn you!" he snarled, rattling the bars. He went for his keys, but she spat at him again, and this time he pulled back out of the way. "SICK! I don't want none o' your… your darkie diseases!"

"Then you'd better not come in here again, or I'll spit on you until you're covered in them!"

They regarded each other for a long moment. He seemed to realise that she meant business, and that nothing he could do would change the situation. Then he grumbled, "Lyle's plum crazy. Wants anything to do with some girl like you… plum crazy."

Then he was gone. For the first time since that moment in the closet, she felt well and truly alone, and found it to be a relief. Even if she would have wished for Glinda to be there, to put her arms around her and tell her everything would be alright… if she couldn't have that, she would take solitude with a glad heart.

~ o ~

Uncomfortable though it was to lay down with her hands still bound in the small of her back, Elphaba did manage to get a little more sleep once her racing pulse left her alone. It took a long time. Thoughts continued to crash through her mind. When she wasn't dwelling on Lyle or Jeb's misdeeds, differing in variety of transgression as they were, she was worrying about Dorothy's wellbeing. Missing Glinda. Everything had turned into such a mess in a small fraction of a day. How could the Kansas girl ever have wanted to come back to this awful place?

She was awoken by a banging on the bars. "Get up," said another voice she didn't recognise. Blinking stupidly, she tried and was unable. "Hurry now."

"I can't," she croaked, throat dry. Only then did she realise she hadn't eaten since before she first arrived. Or had more than a brief drink of water.

There was a put-upon sigh. By the time the man had entered, she realised this was another uniformed person, but not either of them from the evening before. His mustache was of a more traditional sort, bushy and covering his upper lip, unlike Jeb's which had been waxed to curl at the points. He reached down behind her, and she tensed all over-

And hated herself for doing it. After one single incident, one she thought was stupid and ridiculous, she had expected that he would do what the prisoner had done. Her stomach tightened, her pulse ticked up in speed, and her breath stopped entirely until she heard the key sliding into the lock of the restraint. Only then could she breathe again.

He noticed. As he was drawing the metal cuffs away, he squinted at her reaction, but then continued to stand. "Up ya get, girl. C'mon."

Elphaba managed to stand. He neither helped her nor further tried to chivvy her along as she worked to regain her footing. Once she was standing, swaying slightly, he turned and exited the cell, then waited for her to do the same.

As he led her past the bars of the other cell, Lyle saw her and scrambled to his feet to throw himself up against the bars. His eyes were full of unbridled fury, and his knuckles turned white where they clutched at the bars. Spittle ran down from the corner of his mouth as he watched her go.

"You'll git yours, slut! Just you wait an' see!"

"Here, now!" the officer barked, and drew out a smallish wooden club from his belt and slapped it against the bars. Lyle leapt backward in alarm; it had just barely missed his fingers. "Settle down in there."

"You'd better do as the man says," the shaggy one who had admonished Lyle before said, merriment in his eyes. "She ain't nothin' to ya, and you ain't nothin' in the first place."

While everyone else was guffawing and chiding him for his outburst, Lyle's face burned with mingling rage and embarrassment. Good, Elphaba thought. Now he knows the tiniest fraction of how he made me feel.

The officer was leading her to a tiny office, one with a door, unlike the desk she had been at when she first awakened in this gaol. The door shut behind them. On the desk were two simple metal platters, piled with a sticky-looking greyish substance. A little clearish-yellow puddle was in the dead center.

"Et up," he told her as he sat down on the other side, taking up his spoon.

Elphaba sat. After a moment of watching him stir the muck around and begin eating it, she did the same — and it hardly tasted like anything. She pulled a face. Still, it was food, and she was starving. Once the muck was stirred a little more, the flavour seemed to gain a hint of saltiness that hadn't been present before, which made it more palatable. Enough to stomach the rest of it.

About halfway through, she paused and wiped at her mouth, swallowed. Then she asked, "What are you feeding me for?"

"Hm? Ain't you eat?"

"Well… I do, yes."

"Then eat."

Left with no other choice, she finished her plate. Then she sat back and sighed pleasantly.

"Good." He took the time to dab at his mouth, then looked up at her. "You aim to tell us what you were doin' slinkin' around the loony bin?"

"Loony…? Ah." Caught off her guard, Elphaba fumbled, "I, um… well, I was visiting a friend."

"That girl, Dorothy? Ain't got any friends, way I heard tell. Her Ma and Pa dropped her like a sack of ol' potatoes."

"Uncle and Aunt."

"Eh?" He glanced down at a notepad that was open in front of him. Until that moment, Elphaba had paid it no mind in the slightest. "So they were. Orphan girl, I hear."

"That's right. Her Aunt Em and Uncle Henry took her in after she lost her parents." As often as she heard Dorothy mutter those two names, she practically had them tattooed on the inside of her skull.

"Mmm. Poor thing. But I can't figure how a coloured girl'd know Miss Gale, or why she'd sneak in to see her. I mean, what with negroes bein' free an' all nowadays, cain't be their kept girl."

Again, the stipulation that she was "free". As opposed to what? Costly? But Elphaba was trying her best not to let it become readily apparent that she was not native to the Land of Kansas. So she merely shrugged her shoulders and muttered, "She's a friend, as I stated before. And I was worried about her welfare — and rightly so! Do you know they've got her locked in a room with practically nothing? Dosed until she can barely move, shocked with… with I don't know what!"

By now, the bristle-mustached officer was a little surprised at all of her unnecessary explanation. She could have kicked herself, but it was too late for that. So she merely waited for him to finish nodding down at his plate, and then to speak again.

"Yep. So you says. Reckon you wouldn't have much use for her otherwise, and you ain't have anything like a gun on ya to scare off anybody tryin' to stop ya. Mighty stupid… and I don't peg you for a dummy."

Elphaba only understood every third word the man said, but it sounded like he was agreeing with her, so she didn't try his patience. "Sorry for the trouble I've caused."

"Mm. Jeb was jammerin on this mornin' that you spit on 'im, kicked him outta the cell. That true?"

"I… I'm afraid it is." Her entire body braced for the impact of his retribution. Instead, he only chuckled, eyes crinkling in a way that his mouth couldn't show from behind that mustache. "Sir?"

"Funny as heck to me, miss. Coloured girl with her hands cuffed licks one o' my men? He oughtta be tarred and feathered, and thrown out into th' streets. Not fit to be an officer of the law."

"Begging your pardon, but I'm glad he wasn't very fit, or I might not be alive."

He nodded, his laughter finally petering out as he scrutinised her face. Then his nods finished up with a stronger one. "Maybe so. Too much fire in that boy's belly. Glad you gave 'im a little humility; good for 'im."

"If you say so."

"Tell you what. Y'ain't seem t' me like much of a risk, or a dangerous type. Another night in the cell, I'll turn ya loose. But you better see Little Miss Dorothy through proper procedure next time, y'hear?"

"Well, I suppose I ought to find her aunt and uncle first. Do you know where they are now?" An idea occurred to her. "Ever since the storm, I'm afraid I'm not sure where they're living."

"Not sure? Ain't you their mammy?"

Elphaba had no idea what he meant by this, though it sounded like he was implying she was Dorothy's grandmother. Deciding that probably wasn't it, she said, "Just a family friend" and left it at that.

"Fair 'nough." He thought for a moment, tapping his chin with the end of his pencil. Then he said, "Tell you what. On account of you rilin' up the men in the drunk tank, how's about I take you down t' see Hank an' Em? Maybe we can straighten this whole thang out."

"Oh, they wouldn't remember me," she said with a laugh. "Dorothy does, but…" Still, she might be able to work this to her advantage. "But I would like to speak with them all the same. The doctors really weren't forthcoming at the asylum, because they couldn't seem to believe I was Dorothy's guest."

"Ain't many coloured women want anythin' to do with that place."

"Maybe not, but I don't appreciate being called a kidnapper."

"Might be one. I ain't seen any proof different." Still, he was already standing, reaching beneath his shirt to hitch up his pants. "Let's git to goin'."

~ o ~

Apparently, this "goin'" was to be accomplished in a horse-drawn cart of some sort. Elphaba's escort took them outside the city proper and its drab, lackluster buildings, into the surrounding cornfields and featureless pastures with somewhat odd beasts grazing in them. The way was quite bumpy, and she felt obliged to hold on for dear life as they bumped over the road toward their destination. The police captain, whose name turned out to be Will, said very little along the way, but he did ask a question or two that Elphaba did her best to answer. Some of them, such as "Where at in Africa your kin from?" meant literally nothing to her, so she had to throw out such winning responses as "Don't remember".

Eventually, after what felt like a year of unpleasant riding, they reached a small farmstead. The house was much larger and more noteworthy than the tiny shack that had landed near Nest Hardings; there was a tiny amount of pale yellow paint adorning the eaves and the shutters. Elphaba found herself wondering if they had entered the Vinkus before she caught herself.

A brief knock brought a young woman to the door. She looked to be about Dorothy's age, perhaps a bit younger, and her russet hair reminded her strongly of Ozma's. Bare feet stuck out the bottom of a dingy dress of muted colours that swished around her ankles, still moving quite a bit from her most likely having run from several rooms away to see whom had knocked. After smiling at them, she seemed to be startled enough by the mismatched pair that her smile vanished, and she ducked her head shyly.

"Evenin', missy," the man said, doffing his hat. Underneath, he was very nearly bald, and what hair was left was grey and wiry. "Might I inquire after Hank and Em Gale?"

It took her a moment of staring openly at Elphaba before he found her voice. "M-mama?" she asked distantly. But a moment later, she seemed to come back to herself and called more loudly, "MAMA! Policeman at the door!"

Not long afterward, another woman, her own hair a darker blonde and wispy, came to the door to greet the strangers. She was more primly dressed, more polite, and had a better handle on her own manners, curtsying in front of the officer and then showing them into the parlour. Her daughter was shooed upstairs to hide away, since she was clearly uncomfortable around strangers.

"Sorry about my Frances," she told them in a pleasant-yet-flustered tone, shooing him into a chair. "Afraid we don't get many visitors out these parts. Can I fetch you a drink, sir? Cider, or anything stronger? I could put the kettle on…"

"No, no, ain't stayin' that long, miss," he assured her with a crinkle at the corner of his eyes. Elphaba resisted the temptation to comment on their host not offering her a beverage; she was beginning to accept her hypothesis that her skin tone meant she was of lower social standing, ludicrous as that was.

"Begging your pardon," she said, startling the woman and causing her to blink rapidly, "but might there be a Henry and Em Gale here?"

The woman didn't answer right away, but looked to her escort. When he nodded, she still directed her answer toward him. "Indeed there is. Sad story, it is; poor old things."

"Nasty twister, that one was," he sighed with a slow nod, staring off toward the parlour window. "Bunch o' folks lost good homes. Land."

"That's why we took them in, y'know. Em's so good with livestock, and my Frances, and Hank can work all day like I never seen; good and decent, Christian folk. Shame about their niece."

That most certainly caught Elphaba's attention. Sinking down onto the settee next to the "policeman", as the girl had named him, she asked, "What about their niece? I went to pay her a visit, and everyone behaved as if I was trying to kill someone."

But this woman, mother of Frances, was highly distracted. The way she was looking at Elphaba was the look of someone who had seen something highly unpleasant. She hadn't looked at her that way before. When no answer came right away, she glanced over at Will, hoping for some sort of revelation. He, too, seemed vaguely surprised, but not nearly as shocked or affronted as the hostess.

"I… well, alright. It's alright." Turning back to the hostess, Elphaba caught her sighing and passing a hand over her forehead before continuing, "We're part of the Union, after all. Just haven't ever had any…"

"Dorothy, ma'am?" the officer prompted.

"Right. She's off her rocker, I'm sad to say. Can't be all that shocked, as a good many people saw her go up in that house. Darned if I know how she survived! But that kind of thing can't be good for your mind, y'know. So… well, when she came back down, they found her and took her name, and brought her back to Em and Hank. Only she wouldn't quit jawin' on about nonsense, flyin' monkeys and I don't know what all! Well, that ain't the sort of thing I want fillin' my Frances' head, so… well, Em and Hank took care of it on their own, o' course. My Seamus never had to say a word, they already knew what was best."

That completed the picture that Elphaba had already more or less filled in along the way, save for a few details. So she had come back, been reunited with her family, only to have them dismiss her tale as the ramblings of a madwoman and have her sentenced to eternal isolation. It was abominable. Worse — it was unfamilial.

"And you and Seamus let them take care of the matter," she supplied in a numb tone. Again, she saw how uncomfortable the woman looked whenever she spoke, but she paid that no mind. "Could I ask them a few questions? The poor girl was so distraught when I tried to see her, I thought if I might learn a little more, I could talk some sense into her the next time I try."

"And… no offense intended, miss, but what good's a coloured woman from the big city goin' to do Dorothy?"

"Big city?"

"Sure. I mean… obviously, you come from New York or somewheres, talkin' like you do. Educated negroes don't much live 'round here."

Her jaw tightened in annoyance at all the sidetracking, but she tried to remember that shouting at her — or slapping that strangely condescending-yet-afraid look off her face — wouldn't make any strong progress toward her goals. So she forced the grimace into something like a smile.

"Listen, miss… what was it again?"

"Maggie."

"Maggie, yes. I'm an acquaintance of Dorothy's; we had a good many conversations, and she's a charming young woman. At least, she was before all this happened." She just barely kept from mentioning that the 'all this' to which she referred was what the doctors had done to her. "I'd like to see if we might restore her to who she once was."

Maggie scoffed a little. "And how on earth can you do that? Voodoo?"

"Might be. I do have a trick or two up my sleeve." When the hostess gulped, actually frightened now that she hadn't denied it, she turned back to Will. "Hope you don't mind? If we could get everything straightened out today…"

"'Course not," he sighed. He did look weary, but also as if grateful for the shortest route to settling the matter. "Ma'am, if you could point us in the right direction? Cain't take but a few minutes."

Curtsying slightly to show her deference to him as an authority figure, she shot Elphaba another wary glance as she whispered, "Right this way." But her eyes remained on the woman as she led them away from the parlour. Elphaba repaid that courtesy in kind.

Emily and Henry Gale were out in the barn. Both of them were hard at work, though not at any sort of frantic pace; happy to be of use. Elphaba spared a thought for how much their lives must have changed in the past months, since losing their home and everything they had ever held dear. Including Dorothy. Still, she wouldn't forget what she had seen — what they had done to their niece.

Henry was a man with about as much hair as Will, skin spotted with age and from working in the sun all his life. He swiped his forearm across his forehead as he got up from where he was helping another man, hair as bright red and blazing as the sun itself, fixing some sort of wheeled contraption meant to help them move produce from one place to another.

"Maggie!" Seamus called out, shadowing his eyes. "Who's this yer bringin', then?"

Unlike him, she didn't shout back, but waited until they were closer to call, "Officer William, from in Topeka! Says he has questions for Hank and Em!"

"Me?" asked Henry. He had been about to make himself scarce, believing this to be none of his business, but now turned back again, stunned. "Whatever about?"

In short order, they had all gathered around a horse trough while Seamus and Will shook hands, and Maggie went inside to fetch Em. Again, Elphaba felt soundly ignored, but she decided that soon enough she would be back in Oz and could forget all about the unprecedented rudeness she had found in Dorothy's homeland.

From everyone except Angeline, and to a lesser extent, Will. That would bear some remembering, even if everyone else had made the worst impression imaginable.

"Alright," Will said once they had all been introduced. Toto had come out of the barn, and Elphaba felt a slight flare of surprise to see him there; she had almost expected they would sell the dog off once Dorothy was no longer there to take care of him. "We had a couple o' questions about your Miss Dorothy, is all. Well… Miss Elphaba?"

The elderly couple looked a little surprised that the query would be coming from someone they had been ignoring since they got to the barn. Elphaba decided to sidestep that frustration and begin with, "I don't believe you'll remember me, but I'm an old acquaintance of Dorothy's. In passing, I heard that she had been put in that awful asylum and I tried to visit her. Can't begin to even explain how unacceptable the treatment I received there was, and what I've seen-"

"Sorry, but I don't know of any negro women our Dorothy was acquainted with," Em said in an astonished voice. "Fact, other than a few farmhands… I don't reckon she knew any negroes."

"You know, you all spend a lot of time using that word," Elphaba observed with a little more bite than she intended. "As if it automatically settles a lot of things that it most certainly does not! How about we forget 'negro' for a moment, whatever that's supposed to connote, and focus on the heart of the matter: that Dorothy is being gravely abused in that institution of yours!"

"Abused?" Henry blustered immediately, hands curling into fists as Toto barked to hear his stern tone. "What've they done to 'er?"

"Only fed her medicine that caused her to drool like a toothless old kalidah! Shocked her with…" It took her a moment to come up with the word. "'Lectricity, and even beaten her when she was uncooperative! It's bad enough to have shut her up in a room where she can be forgotten conveniently, but in my opinion, physical injury is a step too far! This would never happen in Oz, you know!"

Everyone fell silent at these accusations. However, it wasn't the sort of silence Elphaba had been vainly hoping she might enjoy. They were not outraged, they were not angered. Only saddened and uncomfortable.

"Well… yes, I s'pose that could be," Em said.

"Oswego?" Seamus mused quietly, having misheard Elphaba. "Never been that far south, can't say I've heard they have an asylum there."

"Didn't you say she was demented?" Will prompted, hoping to keep their discussion focused. "Saw nonsense things, talked 'bout 'em?"

"She was," Henry admitted, as distraught as the others. "We tried t' reason with her a bit more, get her to admit she dreamed up the whole mess, but when she got Frances all aflutter and scared, seemed only right we give her over to th' doctors. I ain't any expert on brains."

Elphaba wanted to scream. At them, and in general. This was really all the regret they could summon? But she forced herself to fire at them through her clenched teeth, "She's your family. Why aren't you more upset that she's being hurt on a daily basis?"

"Ain't that simple," Em said, though she was squirming. "The doctors know best; we're simple folk, mind. Can't know what to do with a child who's got a head all twisted up like that."

Finally addressing Elphaba himself, Seamus seemed to come to a realisation — even if he was the only one, and even if he only grasped a piece of the problem. "Look, lass. None of us wanted to have her sent away, did we? But she was ill of the mind, she was. Not a place for her here if she was ill. Had to take her somewhere she might get looked after better than by us, bein' uneducated farmers."

That much made sense. Even if they were quite wrong about the Topeka Insane Asylum being somewhere "better". Her rage had nowhere to go, so she spun on her heels and faced away from them, eyes threatening to stream tears as she stared out over the fields at the setting sun. The countryside was somehow beautiful when lit up in such a manner, even if it couldn't hold a candle to Oz and its splendour. A simple kind of elegance.

"Well, I reckon that's it," Will observed once a short silence had passed. A fresh sob burst from Em, but she still didn't turn to acknowledge it. "Thanky kindly for your time, sir, ma'ams."

"No trouble," Maggie said quickly, ever the hostess.

"Wait," Elphaba said, mastering her emotions and turning back to regard them coldly. It was the best she could do; Glinda might have been able to summon a smile after all that, but she wasn't Glinda. "I would appreciate some kind of… I don't know, decree, that I may visit her. The persons in charge there were highly opposed, and had me imprisoned for attempting to force my way in."

"An' somehow, she ain't the crazy one," Will muttered. But he wasn't trying to stop her.

In short order, Henry and Em signed a brief note stating Elphaba Thropp would be entitled to visit Dorothy — after they had finished with goggling at her unusual name — and the officer signed it as well, bearing witness to the event. Then they walked the guests to the front door.

"Take care, now," Henry told her in a pained voice, scratching behind Toto's ears.

"Tell Dorothy we'll come an' see her soon as we're able," Em said.

"I will. I will tell her that." Perhaps her tone, if not her words, conveyed that she would think far less of them if they never followed through on such a promise.

To Be Continued…

#The Coven Of Oz #forkanna writes #wicked fanfiction #the wizard of oz #fanfiction update #jess the writer

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