Artemis couldn't recall a time he'd smiled more. His face actually hurt from the continued effort but every time he thought he might be ready to collect himself back into a reasonable and logical being rather than a lovesick fool, he'd catch another glimpse of Holly and realize that he absolutely was a lovesick fool. An entirely happy lovesick fool.
"You're going to wrong way," Artemis called, currently smiling at the sight of Holly's diminutive figure situated into the driver's seat of his Jeep. He'd worried when she'd first requested to drive that she'd have trouble reaching the gas. His worries had been proven unnecessary, Holly could get to the gas just fine. A little too well, if he were being honest.
"I know what I'm doing," Holly told him. "I've flown this path tons."
"Yes, but, Holly, we're driving, not flying. And despite this being an all-terrain vehicle, it won't fare well over the hills that are this way, you've got to go around them."
"D'Arvit! No fun," Holly grumbled, pulling the vehicle around in a sharp turn that was jarring enough to break Artemis's smile for a moment. "Fine, Mudboy, we'll do it your way."
Artemis didn't even point out that it was hardly his fault that Jeeps were incapable of flight. He was in that good of a mood. So he just sat back and enjoyed the ride. Though, enjoyed was a strong word for it. Holly's driving was terrifying and the only reason Artemis didn't insist on her slowing down was because he knew what a capable driver she was, even if it felt like they were likely to crash and burn at any moment.
It was late when they arrived at Fowl Manor and Artemis led Holly through the dark hallways straight to the kitchen.
"Pasta?" She asked and, again, he was smiling.
"It's tradition," he told her, faux serious as he put on the water to boil.
"It's been a while," she said, settling in her customary spot on the counter.
"Too long," Artemis agreed, smile finally fading as he came to stand across from Holly. "I am sorry for the way I withdrew. After the bond was broken, I—," how could he explain the ache after that every time he talked to Holly? How could he describe the loss he'd felt when thinking of her or of their yellow house or the bright golden magic that used to bind them?
"I know," Holly said, reaching a hand over to take Artemis's. "I know. I felt it too." And his smile was back, softer this time. Because Holly understood. It shouldn't have been a surprise. She always did. But it was such an amazing wonder to be understood in the way Holly understood him. To be known in the way Holly knew him.
"Even so, I regret my minimal efforts to see you these past months."
"Either of us could have tried harder," Holly was unconcerned, as willing to forgive him as ever. He brought her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss against it. Artemis didn't think much of the gesture. It had simply felt like the right and natural thing to do to express his thanks. His affection. But when he looked back to Holly's face he saw that she'd gone redder than he'd ever seen her. The reaction surprised him for a moment. Then he realized that this—this simple show of affection in the middle of a moment that was not unlike any other moment they'd shared, more than anything else, was telling of the change in their relationship. It had caught Holly off guard and that had caught Artemis off guard in turn, the crimson of her face spreading across his own.
And then he laughed.
"We're getting married," he said with all the awe those words deserved.
"We're getting married!" Holly echoed, dissolving into laughter with him and then, somehow, she was against his chest, laughing into his shirt.
"Mother will be delighted when she hears the news."
"Foaly will be insufferable when he hears it."
"Do you think Mulch will give us another lecture on dating outside of your species?"
"Does he ever pass up a chance to irritate me?" Holly asked and they both laughed harder at the obvious question. "I think the water's done," she said after a time, pushing Artemis lightly away. He was reluctant to leave Holly's arms but he knew it was a foolish impulse to refuse to do so. He had the rest of their lives to be with her, he could step away from her for a couple of minutes.
It wasn't until he'd handed Holly her bowl of appropriately buttered and parmesan'd noodles that his brain placed and processed what was wrong about that thought. The rest of my life, Artemis corrected. I'll have Holly for the rest of my life. And then he'd leave her alone again. In the scope of her lifespan, he'd only be with her for a short time. She'd have the rest of her life to mourn him, once he'd gone.
He watched her carefully as they ate and talked, searching for an indication of that knowledge in her. She had to know. Must be aware, even better than he was, that with their mismatched lifespans, she'd watch him die. Again. She knew the pain she was signing up for in agreeing to this brief happiness. After all, the more she loved him, the more it would hurt. But Holly was too strong to let it show, and perhaps even too happy to worry about it in this moment.
Artemis hated that even now, even with all the love he had for her and with all his efforts to amend for the pain he'd caused her in the past, he'd still hurt her. It would be his final act on this earth, a parting gift of pain for the one he loved most.
Artemis woke up with the image of a blade in Holly's chest. The unimaginably horrifying sound it made as it was pulled free sounding as clearly in his ears as it had the day he'd actually heard it. He reached out and, for the first time in months, found Holly, alive and breathing, laying next to him, a quiet sigh exhaled in sleep replacing the horrid audio in his mind. Usually, that would have been enough. Usually, he'd withdraw his hand, satisfied that she was well, and go back to sleep. But tonight was not usual and the brief loss of her life wouldn't leave him, terrible imaginings of losing her like that in a more permanent manner settled into his bones and wouldn't leave. A sympathy ache for the loss his love would bring Holly in the end.
No, the simple touch to her shoulder was not enough. Not tonight. He snaked his arm around her waist and drew her close, notching their bodies together. Holly gave a low, groggy hum and pulled his arm tighter around her.
"You okay?" She asked him sleepily. He didn't answer and she didn't press, just nestled deeper against him.
"I won't leave you again," he whispered into her skin long after she'd fallen back asleep. There had to be a way to ensure she'd never have to suffer because of him like that again. Already, his brain was formulating a plan. "I promise."