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Being human again is far stranger than Fiyero anticipated.
Before Elphaba devised this fantastical spell, Fiyero hadn’t anticipated being human again—and that had been fine. If he were to spend the rest of his days made of straw and burlap, he would have been content, so long as he and Elphaba remain together.
But then she gifted him with this: the chance to feel, and think, and live as he once did.
Well, not quite as he once did. He left the old Fiyero behind in a classroom full of red poppies and sleeping students.
Some days are stranger—harder—than others. Much to Fiyero’s chagrin, today is one such day.
“You’re trembling,” Elphaba murmurs from her place at his side. Night has long since fallen. They are seated before the fire in their little cottage, shoulders brushing as Elphaba reads and Fiyero mends a hole in his jacket sleeve.
Fiyero offers her a small, strained smile and a nod. He should answer—he detests worrying Elphaba—but even the thought of speaking is difficult. He can feel the weight of each of his bones. The light of the fire, though comforting at first, now seems brighter than the sun at midday. And no matter how hard he tries, he cannot calm his racing heart.
The world, however wonderful, can be too much for his new body.
Elphaba sets her book aside, then gently takes Fiyero’s jacket from him. “Come,” she says, offering him both her hands. Fiyero lets her pull him to his feet. When his knees begin to buckle, and his ankles wobble as they once did, Elphaba catches him.
She leads Fiyero to their bedroom, helping him lie down. When she settles beside him, her hands are clenched into fists to keep from reaching for him—an action all-too familiar now to Fiyero. She is always so afraid to make things worse when he is like this. “What can I do?” she asks.
Fiyero moves closer to her. “Hold me,” he whispers.
Her brow furrows. “Are you sure? I know it hurts when—”
“Please, my love.”
She draws him into her arms, pillowing his head on her chest. Fiyero lets out a long, shuddering breath. Elphaba is so wonderfully solid and warm in a way he couldn’t feel as a scarecrow.
She is right. On days like this, even the softest touch can make his too-new skin ache—just not in the way she thinks.
“It’s not that kind of hurt,” Fiyero explains. Already, the words come easier, now that he is close to her. “It’s…a hunger. Once I feel your touch, I remember how it was to go without it. And then I think I’ll surely beg you to never let me go.”
Elphaba hums. Though Fiyero cannot see her face, he knows she is smiling. “That doesn’t sound terrible. I would happily hold you for the rest of my life.” Her fingers begin to gently card through his hair. Fiyero closes his eyes. With each moment that passes, he feels the world begin to settle into place once more. His anxious thoughts peter out; his bones no longer weigh more than he can carry.
When, at last, he feels like himself again, he whispers, “I love you.” Elphaba’s arms tighten around him in response. Fiyero shifts so that he can return her embrace. Again, with all the conviction in his heart, he says, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Elphaba replies, her voice as hushed as his. She kisses the top of his head. “So much, Fiyero, that I can’t even find the words to tell you how much.”
He knows. He’d known that night in the Emerald City, when they left everything behind and flew away together. And then she’d given him this—a second chance at life. Well, a third chance at life, now. But who’s counting?
“I’m sure you’ll find the words eventually,” Fiyero murmurs, a grin beginning to form on his lips. “You never do stop talking, my love.”
Elphaba’s laugh is the sweetest sound he has ever heard. Fiyero laughs, too, burying his face in the crook of her neck.
Warm and safe in each other’s arms, they speak of everything and nothing until, together, they drift off to sleep.