AN: I'm sorry! I mis-rated my story, and it got removed, and I was banned for a week! Argh! My 10+ reviews! Ouch. If it is not too much trouble, could those who have reviewed this story previously review it again? It can be a short one, but please, for my sake? It would give me more motivation to upload my next fic, 'If', more quickly… *hint hint* And those who are reading this for the first time, please review as well?
*ahem* Anyway, this story is an Arty/Holly fic, with a twist: Holly is dead, no thanks to one of Fowl's missions gone wrong. Enjoy, people!
I have re-uploaded a paragraph or two (thanks, Tyranny!). So… Enjoy! (the old one was really very lame, trust me)
Oh, and I'm not telling how Holly died, I'll leave that to your collective imaginations…
It was never meant to be this way
Root stormed into Fowl Manor angrily, finding only a silent Butler and Artemis, who was staring blankly at a wall. There was a hole in the picture. A Holly-sized hole.
"Where's Holly, Fowl? Where's Holly?" he screamed with near maniacal rage.
"She- she didn't make it." Artemis avoided Root's gaze, his tone wooden.
"You bastard! You fucking bastard!" Root shouted with fury as he ran at Fowl and begun pummeling him with his fists.
Artemis endured the blows; they were nothing compared to the pain he felt inside. And maybe, just maybe if he died he could perhaps mitigate his guilt. His burning, raging guilt. He almost relished each blow, to his temple, to his thorax, to his chest. Blood flowed freely from his face.
Butler intervened. In a firm but peculiarly gentle way, he pulled Root back, his own eyes full.
"Don't stop him, Butler," Artemis whispered.
"I'm sorry, Artemis, but my first code is to stop bodily harm to you. Following your wishes is only second," Butler replied firmly, though his voice quavered slightly and his eyes were unforgiving.
Julius Root still slashed and punched impotently at the air, tears streaming down his hardened face.
Forgotten in the melee, Foaly whispered through the mike, "How could you, Fowl? How could you?" He stressed each syllable, and his voice carried rage, anger, grief and sorrow, all mixed into a peculiar cocktail of anguish.
"I'm sorry." Artemis's words rang hollowly, his eyes strangely haunted, lacking his usual cockiness and sparkle.
"Sorry?" Foaly said, tears streaming down his face. "Sorry? Sorry doesn't cut it, Fowl." The centaur's tone was harsh and unforgiving.
"I'm sorry," Artemis repeated, closing his eyes, his expression one of anguish.
"You bastard, you killed Holly!" Root shouted furiously at the Irish teenager, still restrained by Butler, interrupting the exchange.
Artemis seemed to awaken from his guilt-induced stupor. "I didn't mean for Holly to die! It was never meant to be this way!" He protested weakly, but his word rang hollow, even to himself.
Foaly spat. "Intent and actions are rarely the same, Fowl. The fact remains that Holly is no longer alive." Foaly's voice broke as he spoke. "And why? Because she had to rescue you from yet another one of your fixes. Because she trusted your plan, oh great and mighty genius. Because you left her to bleed to death as you made your getaway." His tone was bitter as he spoke.
"She was already mortally wounded! I could have done nothing for her, except maybe die as well!" Yet the truth of Foaly's words struck at Artemis relentlessly, hurting him far more than Root's blows ever had. He had, directly or indirectly, caused her death.
"Then maybe you should have died as well." Foaly's voice was quiet yet final, unforgiving and filled with anger.
"Maybe," Artemis said in sunken melancholy, his voice echoing despair. "Maybe."
Foaly was not about to let Artemis off that easily. "It figures that the first thing you did when you regained your memories was to exploit the fey folk, no? And what of it if people got hurt? What of it if innocent souls died? What of it if Holly died?" Foaly continued inexorably, mockingly, his voice as hard as steel.
Each word was like a blow to Artemis's heart. "No!" Artemis shouted. "It was never meant to be this way," he whispered again, in a vain attempt to justify himself not only before the centaur, but also before a much harsher judge. Himself.
"No thanks to you and your greed, Fowl, I have lost my closest friend. No thanks to you, Root has lost perhaps the only one who understands him. No thanks to you, Holly's mother has lost a loving daughter."
Artemis had no answer. He could only hold his head in his hands, trying vainly to drown out Foaly's words. Never had anything in his life caused him so much pain, so much anguish as the centaur's words now did.
"You disgust me, Fowl. I want you to know that. I also want you to know that to the end of my life, I will never forgive you. Never, you hear me?" The centaur's voice shook with rage.
"I don't think I will ever forgive myself either," Artemis said softly, sadly, regretfully. His haggard face somehow seemed to belie his true age.
Foaly terminated the connection without a further word. Holly was gone, and verbally punishing Artemis wouldn't bring her back. Nothing would. Nothing ever would.
Root had since then recovered from his fury and had collapsed in a sitting position on the floor, his eyes open wide with horror, realization and loss.
"She's gone," he whispered. "Gone."
Silence greeted his statement.
A maverick tear founds its way down Artemis's cheek and he sought to keep in control of the situation. But control eluded him, as did vindication. Guilt gnawed at his liver, and the indelible memory of Foaly's words rang through his mind.
Be as that may, the fact remains that Holly is no longer alive. And why? Because she had to rescue you from yet another one of your fixes. Because she trusted your plan.
Yes, he was to blame. If anyone was to blame, he was. He was at least as guilty as the guard who pulled the trigger, long since dead, dismembered brutally by Butler.
Butler. For once, he offered no council, no words of comfort, no platitudes. Angry tears shone in the bodyguard's eyes. There were some things that even Butler would not, could not forgive of Artemis. The knowledge of this hurt the teenager prodigy almost as much as losing Holly did.
Juliet's reaction was not much more comforting. She didn't say a word, she merely stared with hate filled eyes at the boy who had once been her friend and employer, but now was only the latter. Each glare was like a dagger to Artemis's heart, as he felt the pain of losing all who were dear to him.
It spoke volumes that even the irascible but friendly Mulch, the one who was the least close to Holly, the thief without any morals whatsoever, leveled an accusing and baleful look at the Irish teenager.
Artemis left the room silently. No one called him back. Silent sobs wracked his body, and tears ran from his eyes. Somehow, he knew that his soul would never be the same again.
And then, like a torrent memories of Holly flooded him. Holly, glaring at him as she was held captive. Holly, her face softening as she heard of the kidnapping of his father. Holly, as she handed him the gold medallion that he had come to treasure. Holly, as she glared at him upon learning she had to cut Spiro's finger off. Holly, sadness tingeing her face as she greeted him goodbye for what had seemed to be the last time before he was mind-wiped. And Holly, as she lay dying on the floor, her life seeping away, her eyes regretful and yet forgiving as she regarded Artemis's anguished expression.
His heart and soul hurt at the memories, hurt at the knowledge he'd never see her again, hurt at the knowledge that one of the only person he had ever loved had gone forever, stolen from him by a cruel twist of fate. And most of all it hurt at the fact that he bore the guilt for her death, and no matter how much he squirmed or tried to evade responsibility for it, the fact remained that his greed and selfishness had killed Holly.
He made his way into his room and closed the door softly behind him. He picked up a Magnum he had stashed there, a precaution against any unforeseen circumstances. This was one such time, though it wasn't precisely the kind of situation that he had in mind when he put the gun there. He picked it up slowly.
"I'll see you again, Holly," he whispered. "Prepare a place for me when I meet you." He closed his eyes and raised the gun to his head.
And then he pulled the trigger. With a loud bang and the sound of something metallic clattering to the floor, Artemis, the boy who had once shown so much promise, left the world, truly alone and friendless.
It was never meant to be this way.