Hey I'm back or whatever! Sorry for the delay. Again. Man I am a pretty unreliable person. This is going to be a short thing, somewhere around two to three chapters. Don't worry, I'm not abandoning vacation, I just haven't written anything dramatic in a while. Set after the time paradox I guess. Also I took the title from a song name (flawed design- stabilo) because it fits perfectly and screw you I do what I want. Looking back it probably influenced how I wrote this. cover photo from freefoto. Possible A/H. please review and criticize, because I like the attention, and go read my other story if you haven't yet.
It's cold. Colder than she's ever been comfortable with, but merely a winter chill by human standards. A great oak tree stands not far off, surrounded by a forest of dense trees and gleaming icicles. The leaves around her are frosted over, crisp and fragile and strewn about. Two sets of footprints mar the pristine forest floor, broken twigs and shattered ice. They point towards each other, cut off at the center by a frozen brook. The ice at the surface cracks and sparkles, not strong enough to resist the deadening cold of winter. She wonders if it flows still, under the surface. How deep does the ice reach, she wonders. And, when this ice is gone, will there be anything left?
He shivers. His designer suit is doing little to protect him from the cold. It lies unbuttoned, blowing gently in a gust of freezing wind. No snow falls, but flecks of ice detach themselves from branches and sting his face. He does not flinch. He does not close his coat against the wind. He stands there and shivers, pale and shivering, accepting it as penance. Better than I deserve, he thinks. The wind spirals on, wrapping around him and playing with the strands of his black hair. A lock of it falls into his face, covering a hazel eye. The remaining gazes forwards still, blue and bright as the ice in the air. He fixes his hair, freeing the sight of his stolen eye. A gift. A memento. A memory.
She observes the boy before her. A man, and a boy, but never a child. Never innocent. A genius to be sure, a friend to the people. A friend to her? No, she thinks to herself. He threw that away. A distant past, a bond formed over tragedy and triumph. A broken boy made whole. Changing her, and being changed. Turning to the side of good without ever realizing. Never truly evil, only a broken boy who wanted his family. But some things never change. Countless triumphs, insurmountable odds, unimaginable loss. The two of them. And so many lies, little white lies and world changing deceits, to her, to his family, to the world at large. And a betrayal, a shattering of the trust they had built. All for the plan. Because he always has a plan, doesn't he? Everything for the plan. And it had worked. She had helped him, his mother was saved, another evil vanquished. But still there was the lie. And it was so stupid, because she would have helped him anyway, and he should have known that, and he had still lied, and she had kissed him, and Why didn't he trust me? They had been friends. They had been enemies. They had been partners in war. What were they now?
He observes his guilt as it stands before him. The auburn hair, whipping in the gale that was slowly springing up. Framing her sharp, beautiful features, all of them now distrustful and angry. And hurt. And it hurt him. That look in her eyes, that pain, that betrayal, and she should have seen it coming. He should have. "Never trust anyone but yourself". That was the sentence burned into his mind, over years of neglect and responsibility and being so, so alone, he had known he was the only one he could trust. Even butler had never been privy to all his secrets, despite his love for the Eurasian man. Then he had found her. Caught her. Gained a friend, and more, someone he could trust. But he had still lied, and why was that? He knew he trusted her, his best and only true friend. But he didn't trust himself. He had grown so used to the lying, and the secrets, that they had become second nature to him. First nature, if that was actually a term people used. He had always lied, even as a child. He had been so young when he learned how to control people, to manipulate them to get his way. And now, when he finally had almost everything he wanted, when the lying was what was standing in his way, he couldn't turn it off. He hadn't realized what he was doing in time to protect those he loved. Where had all his famous self-control gone? When what he needed most was honesty and sincerity, when he had finally found someone he deemed worthy of his trust, he threw it all away because of another lie. When he had finally found somewhere he fit in. the two of them were a pair, a team. Partners. They needed each other, and helped each other. It had become well known eventually. The two of them saving the world together. And that was just it- it was always the two of them, together. People knew who to come to in a crisis. And now they were separated by another of his tricks. He hadn't even meant to, wanted to. He could see himself as he said the words, screaming and beating at the glass that separated him from his voice to stop, to think, to shut up for once in my life and not ruin this for myself! But he had lied, and he didn't know how to fix it.
Artemis fowl and Holly short faced each other, separated by the distance of a few feet, a frozen stream, the ice in the air, and a thousand frozen lies, and waited. And still the wind blew, and the ice stung their faces, and they did not know what they waited for. They waited for and excuse, or an opportunity. For punishment or for redemption. They waited for forgiveness, or for the final blow to fall. They waited for the end of this pain, one way or another. Because, when it came down to it, if they weren't "the two of them", then they were nothing at all.