A/N: I'm an awful girl for starting up a new story when I have so many that need updating, but there you go. Oh, Kennedy Leigh Morgan, you've got your wish. I have about four handwritten pages of the next two or so chapters of Like A Ghost, which I have obviously decided to expand, so you'll see that as soon as I have time to type it.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Prologue

When she awoke, the room was dark, and in the hazy state between sleeping and waking she reached out for someone who wasn't there, and the cold shock of that, as well as the realization that the positioning of the bed was wrong for the room she ought to have been in, as well as the fact that it was a bed and not a bedroll that she was lying on, woke her up more fully. The room was a pale green color that seemed to mock her. She was lying beneath two pleasant quilts, which annoyed her for some reason, and was surrounded by pillows. There were candles on a small table beside the bed. She felt something foreign and sticky between her legs, and when she reached to touch it, her fingers came away bloody, too bloody for it to have been mere menstruation. She did the only reasonable thing to do in such a situation.

She screamed bloody murder.

Actually, she bellowed "Where the hell am I?", to be more specific, but she was still groggy and she was also panicked and she had begun to realize that something definitely hurt, and so it was not as coherent as it might have been. But the noise itself did the job. A young girl, perhaps a year or two younger than Elphaba, peeked in, saw her sitting up, widened her eyes, and scurried away. A moment later, a bustling woman in her fifties wearing the habit of a maunt came in and perched in the chair beside Elphaba's bed.

"Where am I?" Elphaba asked quickly, trying to keep her voice steady. "What's going on? What's happened?"

"You're in the Mauntery of Saint Glinda, child," said the woman, clutching Elphaba's hand to stop her fingers' compulsory twitching. "You came here not quite a year ago-"

"A year?" Elphaba cried.

"More like nine months, dear."

"No, no, that can't be right, it can't-"

"Yes, dear child, that's all right, it has been a year, you've been in a coma."

Elphaba stared at her dumbly.

"But…" she sank back against the pillows. "What's wrong with me, then? Why am I-" she gestured at the general area of her hips beneath the blankets. "Why am I bleeding?"

"You've had a son, my dear child, a little boy, just a few hours ago."

"I what?!"

"Yes, would you like to see him?"

Elphaba couldn't speak. There had to have been some mistake, this couldn't be real, and why couldn't she remember?

The younger woman- she must be a maunt, too, a novice- returned, carrying a small bundle which she slid almost reverently into Elphaba's arms. She and the older woman receded quietly into the hallway.

Gathering her courage, Elphaba folded back the blanket over the infant's face and recoiled in astonishment. Downy black hair, unmistakably the color of her own distinctive locks, covered the baby's head. He yawned and blinked his eyes open at her, and she felt as if she had just taken a bullet to the heart.

Fiyero!

Tears burned the edges of her eyes. Sensing danger, the older woman returned and took the child from her arms.

"Rest now, my child," she told the wordless Elphaba, in whom fury and grief were rapidly building in equal measure. "I will have him brought back to you later." In a trail of navy blue skirts, she disappeared, shutting the door behind her.

Elphaba collapsed into a tiny ball and screamed and sobbed into a pillow until she had nothing left in her body.

…

She dreamed for the first time in a year. She dreamed of Fiyero. She had seen the blood, but not his body. She dreamed that he was not dead, that he would come back to her…

She awoke and squeezed her eyes shut and fastened the door to her heart and told herself that she was being ridiculous. Then, with a great effort, she pulled herself out of bed, gasping with shock as the soles of her feet touched the cold stone floor and as her legs wavered beneath her. She struggled to what appeared to be a small bathroom. Her distaste for water must have been evident even in her unconscious state, for she found an uncorked bottle of oil within, and, gritting her teeth, began to clean herself up. She cleaned her teeth as well and then searched the room for something than the ridiculous beige nightdress she had on. She found her old black shift on a chair and slipped into it, and then ventured into the hallway. She could hear children crying not far away, and she followed the sound until she stepped into what was evidently the nursery.

It wasn't difficult to find her..son…among the other infants. He was the only one not crying, lying serenely on his back, but not sleeping. As she approached he turned his steady blue gaze on her, and she flinched. She reached into the crib and cradled his tiny body, feeling his warmth and his rapid heartbeat against her. She stared down into his eyes, the eyes of her lover, and vowed that she would not fail this child.