Will seem majorly cliched. I promise it's not.

Chapter 13

The Most Painful Truth

Warning. Will seem cliched. Don't give up on this ficcy, please!

Major twist ahead! (Warned enough, eh?)

The haze around his brain slowly dissipated, and a wave of tiredness took its place. Artemis pried his heavy lids open one by one, eventually revealing the world around him to be dark, the only light filtering in through the minute crack between the heavy, maroon curtains. As his dual-toned eyes adjusted, he could hardly make out the form of Holly beside him, the computer monitor off, and the door closed. Apparently they had been left to rest after he had returned from the stream, and by the looks of the sunset pouring through the window, they had left quite some time ago.

He stretched his arms wide and tried to sit up, only to be blocked by a strongly tangled blanket, which, upon further tugging, would obviously not release him without waking the occupant beside him. He scowled, then suddenly jerked as the memories of Holly's condition came rushing back. He leaned over her slender back, feeling her calm pulse and slightly warm forehead. Only a small fever, and she seemed to be finished convulsing. Her LEP jacket was falling off her shoulders, revealing a white tank top riding up her abdomen. Artemis delicately fingered the edge of the garment, pulling down over her hip to preserve her modesty.

He sighed and sank back into the sheets. Another moment of sleep wouldn't be a problem…

As soon he blindly dug his feet into the welcoming warmth of the blankets, he yelped in surprise. Holly's feet were freezing.

He placed a hand on her arm, then slid it up toward her chin, all of which were absurdly cold. After considering, for a moment, the repercussions of being caught in this position, he quietly wrapped an arm around her waist and hooked his bare feet over hers. The arrangement was absolutely wonderful, he decided, as he buried his nose in her hair and sighed.

And, again, jerked back up.

Something wasn't right.

He could hook his feet over hers, wrap an arm about her waist, and bury his nose in her hair without bending over. That… wasn't right.

He pulled back with an alarmed look, propping himself up and stared at her serene features. The elf groaned and rolled over to his chest, unconsciously burying herself in his warmth. Perhaps, at some other time, he would have smiled and probably blushed. But right now, he just stared. She was… tall. Only maybe six inches shorter than him.

He silently shook his head, trying to banish the thought from his head.

No, No, no, no…. this couldn't have happened. She'd given too much to everything. This couldn't… not this…

The Irish teen steadied his breathing, slowly releasing a frantic breath. And, with a trembling hand, he brushed aside the auburn strands of hair on her ear.

If he had been standing, his knees would have buckled.

A groan escaped his lips as he traced a shaking finger down the rounded ear, trailing down her neck and to her fingertips, entwining his pianist hands in her own. He dropped his head down beside hers and bit back his tears.

Fowls don't cry. No matter what the problem is. Fowls don't cry.

But as he slid his other hand into her hair, holding her close, a tear escaped.

Soon followed by a flood, staining both their cheeks with regret and sorrow as he mourned the gaining of another's humanity.

Human. Holly was human.

~0~o~0~o~0~o~

Dreams were odd things.

Holly was positive that no one could go through as many years in such a short time as one could in dreams. But each memory, which was so firmly implanted into her memory, seemed to be altered. A mysterious presence kept following her, of all things. He seemed to be no more of a shadowy figure, but he was there nonetheless.

But then again, with this fog shrouding her head, anything was possible.

With great effort, she pierced through the fog and cracked her lids open, then firmly shut them as a shaft of light burst through her sensitive retinas. A pulsing headache started building up, eventually broiling a stomachache in the pits of her gut.

She groaned and dug her head further into the warm, smooth pillow by her head, reveling in the comfort of the slow pulse that steadied her rolling stomach.

Wait.

Pulse?

And come to think of it, the slight sound of air seemed to whistle through the pillow, and an obscenely warm wave hit her, smothering her whole body. This was not a pillow.

She snapped her eyes open, this time bearing through the brilliant light. After the pain passed, she was welcomed with the sight of an unbuttoned dress shirt, exposing a triangle of pale skin stretching taut over a collar bone. As her gaze followed up the elegant neck and angular jaw, her eyes got wider and wider by the moment. Straight, mussed locks of raven hair framed Artemis's calm face, his brow relaxed and complexion youthful. One arm, which was surprisingly ringed with lean, very small, muscles, wrapped firmly about her waist as if to protect her. The other was crooked under his head and shielding his eyes from the shaft of light that dramatically illuminated his face. Even his feet were wrapped firmly around her ankles.

After a moment of contemplation, she decided that being caught like this would be eternal mortification, so she propped herself up on an elbow, wiggling her knees free of his and sliding out of the sheets.

His hand tightened on her forearm as he spoke.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

She gasped, jerking from his grip and looking down at his face. His head was turned expectantly up at hers, with his dress shirt wrinkled and his hair tousled. His eyes, still half closed, reflected some sort of… sadness?

"D'Arvit, Artemis. What was that for?"

Not even a smile flitted across his features. "I did not want you to get up."

This time an amused smile filled her face. "Why? To comfortable?"

Even this did not rouse him to teasing. What was wrong?

He shook his head and sat up, regaining his grip on her, this time on her hand. "I did not want you to get up, Holly, for two reasons. One, you are still too weak. Two, I wanted to help you when you… when you realize the problem."

The police officer paled. 'Pr… Problem?"

For an answer he kicked the blankets off of himself and clambered over to her side of the bed, sitting with his long legs dangling off. She looked at him curiously with her mis-matched imploring eyes. He gathered a calm, deep breath.

"Holly… Hold my hand. I am going to help you up."

A curt nod, and she gripped his hand. He stood slowly, pulling her up with him until she was standing unsteadily on her feet.

That was when she realized the problem. Her eyes, which usually ended up looking awkwardly at his belt line, were now… boring into his collarbone.

"Artemis… Care… to explain?"

He wrapped an arm around her waist and simply shook his head. "Walk."

She grasped the front of his shirt in a white-knuckled grip, taking halting steps forward. Her muscles were so weak. Even in all her year in the LEP, she hadn't experienced this kind weakness. It was the kind of weakness that turned all your muscles to numb jelly, and pained every step. Her knees shook as she walked, matching the state of her mind. What was this? What happened?

They traveled slowly past the threshold of his bedroom, passing a large book-shelf shoved full, and to a modest wardrobe that appeared incongruous considering the opulence of the room. Artemis steadied her with one hand as he swung the cherry door open, revealing a mirror in the interior. But he blocked the view with his back, stifling her curiosity.

She glanced up at him, with a frenzied look in her eyes.

'Show me, Artemis. What happened?"

He pulled her chin to face him as she tried to lean around him.

"Lean on me, and don't let go."

"Wha-"

"Do it."

She grasped the front of his shirt in a tight fist, leaning up against his bony chest. And he stepped out of the way.

As he predicted, her knees buckled as she gasped. He tightened a hand around her waist as she stared, open mouthed, at the mirage before her.

Gone were her formerly elven features. Her broad forehead was now small and shapely, causing her eyes to appear more luminous. Her upturned nose was the same, shadowing her perfectly bowed, cherry red lips. The short-cropped hair that used to only hug her jaw-line swept at her shoulders in curly red waves. She looked no more than Artemis's age, and only a few inches shorter.

Her hand trembled as she reached up, moving the curly hair from her ear, and, as Artemis had done, ran a finger down her rounded lobe. Her eyes were teary and bright as her lip trembled, small gasps puffing in and out as she stared, transfixed at the image.

Artemis slid away from the mirror to the bed, sitting her down gently beside him. His arm left her waist as she sniffled into his neck, her whole frail body wracking slightly. Her hand punched limply at his shoulder blades, as she muttered through gritted teeth into his collar bone. The poor genius had never felt the need to comfort someone, so this was quite a new experience. He stared frantically at the top of her head, alternating between embarrassment and hormones, and trying to control the two. Eventually he decided on trying to comfort, (trying being the operative word) and so his hand tightened around her thin waist. He felt every rib and every tremor, and willed every ounce of calmness into her, his heart wrenching and stuttering with every one of her sobs. What could he do for her? How could he comfort one who has lost… everything?

Her hand fisted tighter in the back of his shirt, her sobs abating just long enough to speak. "Artemis… how am I…" she gulped, and then, in a raw whisper, "How am I human?"

He sighed and looked away.

"I… I don't know, Holly."

Her hand tightened.

This won't be the 'Holly is human, must rebuild life, makes love with Artemis, la de da' story. Promise. (Can't live up to Lli's standard anyway, so...) There is a reason, and it is not what either of them (or probably you, for that matter) thinks it is. :D