Phew. I am now officially into the double-digits! Yay! Or… not yay; this story is dragging on for longer than I intended. Guess I can't keep torturing them so. Ah well.
Ten
Holly settled the aircraft onto the landing pad with only minor difficulty. The sky was dark as she hopped out the hatch but the area was well lit. Recalling the way from several days—was it only days?—ago when she was in a cast and wheelchair, she made her way to the manor house. A butler opened the door for her.
"Yes?" he inquired.
"I'm looking for Artemis," she said. "Is he here?"
"Who's asking?" the man's eyes narrowed.
"I'm Holly Short," she lied smoothly. "I'm a guest here. Artemis and I went to Ireland for a few days, and he had to return earlier today, but I wanted to stay behind to see some more sights. Is he here?"
"Maybe," he said distrustfully, pulling out a small walkie-talkie. "Sir? I've got a Holly Short here for Master Artemis." She didn't hear the person on the other end's reply. "Yes, sir. Yes, sir. No, sir. Alright, sir, if you say so." He turned his attention back to the elf. "Come right in, Miss Short."
He led her inside and through a veritable maze of corridors, then at last stopped in front of an elaborately carved door, bowed, and left. How he'd known where Artemis was was beyond her, but she dismissed it and knocked hesitantly.
"Come in," he called from within. She pushed the heavy door open and stood in the opening until he looked up from his desk. His entire posture changed as he registered her presence. "Good evening," he said stiffly. She opened her mouth to speak but he continued. "Did you take the plane here? Of course you did; how else could you have gotten here so quickly? Did you know that its maximum speed is—"
"Artemis, I'm sorry," she blurted. He shut up, his awkward and rambling speech coming to an abrupt close.
It took him a moment to come up with a reply. Finally, "Yeah, well I am too. There, done. Leave, please."
"What?" she took a step forward. "No, I am not leaving! I just said I was sorry for something that I have no regrets about! Yeah, I was using you because you remind me of him, but I—" I do care for you. She pressed the heel of one hand against her eye. She couldn't say it, not when she wasn't sure that it was true. She knew she was still in love with the old Artemis, and she certainly cared for this one, but was that only because of the semblance between them? Was the only reason she felt so many things toward the man standing before her now that he looked and sometimes acted like the original Artemis Fowl II?
"But what?" he pressed.
She shook her head. "Nothing."
"So you were using me, plain and simple." His voice was hard, accusing, and… hurt.
"Artemis—" She'd always hated arguing with him. It was impossible to get anywhere, and she compared it to shouting at a wall to grow legs and walk of the way. Of course, Artemis was a very smart wall, which made him all the more frustrating. She took a deep, calming breath. "Look. I really don't want to fight with you. Can't we just say the whole thing was one big mistake and leave it at that?"
"You said you didn't regret it," he pointed out, "so saying it was a mistake, speaking from both our perspectives, of course, would be a lie, wouldn't it?"
"Not all mistakes are regretted," she returned wearily. Couldn't he just agree? For once? It was getting late and she hadn't gotten a full night's sleep for far too long. How long had it been? She began to count the days but got distracted by him speaking again.
"I would agree that it was a mistake," he said. She breathed a sigh of relief.
"Good," she nodded and went to leave.
"Holly," he caught her at the door. She stopped and turned. "We can still… be friends?"
She smiled genuinely; he'd forgiven her. "Of course," she said softly and slipped out the door.
This was her new beginning. From here, she would start over, build a new friendship with this man and base her opinions of him solely on him, not on his predecessor. She would not allow any feelings she had for Artemis Fowl II to cloud her feelings for Artemis Ortega. What would happen would happen, and she would not pressure the universe into acting hastily.
Three weeks passed quickly, during which Artemis and Marcus Ortega worked through some minor psychological problems regarding the loss of his memories. Holly hung around, helping them when she could but mainly simply being a solid presence for Artemis. She was good for him, dragging him out of the house—sometimes quite literally—to go for walks in town or on the grounds, or even to just bring his computer outside and work by the river. They played a modernized version of basketball from time to time, in which Artemis, with his superior height, has a distinct advantage. She much preferred volleyball, where her speed helped her score points and often won her the game. For each of them, the heavy clouds that had hung over them for so long were lifting away, and laughter was frequent.
Holly, however, was not laughing at the moment. She was sitting, fully clothed, on the closed toilet seat, a small whitish stick held in shaking hands. A faint pink mark was slowly appearing unobtrusively on the tiny display screen. She set the stick down in her lap and leaned her head against the wall, hoping to whatever gods might be listening that pregnancy tests had changed enough over the years to have made pink mean negative. She stumbled to the counter, test clutched in her fist, where the box lay beside the sink and picked it up, frantically searching for the directions.
"If a blue line appears," she read, "you are not pregnant. If the line is pink, you are. Please consult a doctor as soon as possible to ensure that you will have a healthy—" She let the box fall to the floor and sank down next to it. Not again, she thought, oh please, Frond, not again. Isn't once enough?
What was she going to do? The baby would not survive, she knew. Should she tell Artemis or just let it go unmentioned? Last time, it'd lived long enough to expand her belly considerably; surely he'd notice. Unless… unless she went back to Atlantis.
That was what she would do. He wouldn't have to know and that would save him much concern and maybe even some guilt. Still shaky, but determined, she stood and marched toward the door. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror—frazzled hair, blotchy face, red eyes—and stopped short. She returned to the sink and used a facecloth to wash up a bit. She dampened her hands and ran them through her hair until it lay flat again. She towelled off and took another look in the mirror. Much better.
She rushed out of the bathroom and down the corridors to her bedroom (she'd upgraded from guest room to bedroom halfway through the first week) and took her belongings from the drawers, digging her suitcase out of the closet and piling them all in. She slung it up onto her shoulder and was off again at a speedy walk that was almost a run. She was just out the door and halfway across the first stretch of lawn when she heard Artemis calling after her. She sped up to a full run. He couldn't know, it would hurt him.
"Holly!" he caught up to her and grabbed her arm to stop her. "Where are you going?" he demanded. She avoided his gaze and didn't answer. "Where?"
"Atlantis," she said quietly.
"Why?" he took her by both shoulders.
"I have to go home," she muttered lamely. "My… mom wants to see me."
"Your mother is dead," he reminded her. She raised her head, startled that he'd say it so bluntly. Yes, her mother was dead, she'd been dead for nearly sixty years. Still, so just say it was… strange. Impolite. "Why are you leaving?"
"I have to go home," she repeated, with more emotion this time but not more conviction.
"And you didn't think that I might like to at least say goodbye?" he wasn't angry, she could tell. More surprised and a little hurt.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "Please, I need to go."
"I want to know the real reason you're leaving," he pressed. "If it was so important that you couldn't even waste enough time to stop by my office and say goodbye, it must be pretty serious—"
"I'm pregnant!" she blurted. D'arvit. Now you've done it.
"—and really, Holly, by now you should know that I can help you with whatev—what?" His expression was cliché and comical.
"I'm pregnant," she repeated. His eyes dropped instinctively to her belly. "Oh, come on. Don't look so surprised," she folded her arms, suddenly self-conscious. "It's not like we took any measures to prevent it."
"Well, no," he admitted, "but I thought—you couldn't—it isn't—oh god. It is mine, isn't it?"
"No," she drawled sarcastically, "It's Mulch's."
"He's dead," he dismissed the remark distractedly. "Are you sure it's mine?"
"Pretty darn." She bit her lip. Please don't get mad, please don't get mad, please don't get mad…
"That's…" he was at a loss for words—she would've been amazed under any other circumstances. "That's good. It's good. We're good."
"How can it possibly be good?" she wailed, "We're not even a couple!" She squeezed her eyes shut. "Not that it really matters," she added miserably, "It's not going to survive."
"Why on earth not?" he stared at her, horrified, "You didn't—did you?"
"It won't survive because human and elfin genes don't mix," she told him, shaking her head. "It happened last time and it'll happen now."
"Last… time?" He was processing things far more slowly and usual.
"You never wondered what happened to the baby last time I got pregnant?" she looked at him incredulously.
"I assumed it was grown up by now," he shrugged, "but I'd never put much thought into it, considering who the father was." Was he implying that he was jealous of her and the old Artemis? She dismissed it.
"Long story short, I miscarried," she said crisply, "Because our genes weren't compatible. And being as you and him are basically the same person, there's no reason for anything to be different this time."
"We are not the same person," he said firmly. "We're like twins; almost completely genetically identical but very different individuals. Secondly, just because one baby's genes didn't work doesn't mean that this one's also won't."
"What?" she watched him closely, wishing desperately that he'd tell her that she hadn't created a life only to sentence it to death.
"It's just like all interspecies breeding," he explained, "A certain sequence of genes might be fatal while another could produce a healthy offspring." He smiled. "It'll be okay, Holly."
"You don't know that," she pointed out pessimistically.
"No," he admitted. "But isn't it better to believe that it will than to just wait for it to die?"
Slowly, she nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, it is better." She gave him a wobbly smile. "Sometimes, I'm actually glad you're a genius."
He laughed. "Only sometimes?"
"The other times, you're insufferable," she informed him.
"Oh, Holly!" he donned a cheesy British accent and head a hand to his heart in mock agony, "You wound me so!"
She covered the hand on his chest with her two tiny ones, not really in the mood for such joking, no matter how much it might take her mind of the important things, and asked softly, "What are we going to do?"
There really is a depressingly unbalanced ratio between the people who read the chapters and the ones who are nice enough to review. You should know that I don't update ever until I have at least five reviews. Come on, guys. Five isn't that much! I always get more than that, and that's why the updates keep coming. All of you who read it and don't review are just piggybacking on those who do. :) End rant.
