Holly Short pretended that she wasn't nervous, but really she was. In fact, she was terrified. Absolutely terrified. Applying for the job as LEPrecon had been fine because she had had the secret thought that whatever she did wouldn't matter, she had believed that she wasn't going to get accepted anyway. The look on her face when they actually took her on had been very ... shocked. She almost, in a way, deep down at a sub-conscience level, hadn't wanted to get the job at all - because then it would have proven her point about sexism and discrimination. But that doesn't mean that she didn't want to be doing this. She had wanted to be a policewoman since ... since she was 9 years old and had had a dream where she arrested her father, having such power over that stupid man that she could put him away and ruin his life the way he had ruined her mother's; and her's. She still had the dream on occasion - although now it was more often a daydream.
Her new captain came her way and she stood to attention so quickly that something in her shoulder cracked under the pressure. He nodded to her, gave her and her uniform a once-over, his eyes pausing at the obvious swells of her breasts, noted the trim, practical crew cut she had been wearing for years now and ... smiled. Holly felt her back stiffen; she was often subjected to condescending smiles and patronising, tolerant looks. Then he spoke.
"Lance-Constable Short?" Holly nodded, just once. She stared at his straight, military poster-boy jawline.
"My name is Caption Trouble Kelp and you've been assigned to my squad temporarily. At least, I presume so. Commander Root just said: 'you've got another one for a while, Kelp. Short. Some hothead girlie who wants to prove her stuff. The Council wants to look like they're paying attention to the needs and wants of the city. Idiotic bastards.' You have to excuse the Commander, miss; he's not terribly fun to be around at any time. And he's been having a few troubles of his own lately so he's under a lot of stress."
Holly almost shrunk into the background, the way she had been trained and expected to do for her entire life, but she gritted her lip and forced out the words. "You can't call me 'miss'. That's discriminatory. I'm either Lance-Constable or just Short."
"I'm sorry, Lance-Constable," Trouble said, sitting down and rubbing a hand through his slightly oily hair, "I did not mean to offend you; I only meant to be friendly. I know how important it is to feel welcome on your first day. My younger brother just got accepted in LEP Academy last week. He's been terrified ever since."
"At least your brother won't have to wait for a week as they build a female bathroom - like I had to do. And they were too embarrassed to let me board with the other recruits, even though I wasn't embarrassed at all. They seemed to think that someone might try to take advantage of me, or put me in an awkward situation."
Trouble looked her up and down again, analyzing the odds of anyone who tried to take advantage of her still having all the vital bits of their anatomy later. She was extremely pretty, even beautiful - which is much more prized in a society such as the underground where fairies live through so many fazes of 'pretty' that it means nothing at all. But she was also ... dangerous. She looked like a woman who had been fighting all her life. And not just any fighting - she had been fighting in seedy back streets against 7 tattooed men double her bulk and their pet terrier. And winning. She looked like a woman who didn't give a damn that people stood in her way - because she could just go through them if necessary.
"No," Trouble said, more regretful than angry. "My brother just has to put up with people calling him a retard, talking down to him, and acting like he doesn't exist most of the time."
"Hmp," said Holly uncommitably. "Why?"
"He received a head injury a few years ago. He was brain damaged." Trouble sighed, "he hasn't been the same since."
Holly looked slightly sheepish, or at least showed some compassion that she wasn't able to hide behind the feminism and anger. "Sorry, Captain. I... Sorry."
"That's quite alright. You weren't to know, Short. So... is there any other name that you have? Or were your parents particularly uninventive and forgot to give you a first name?"
"You shouldn't be flirting with me, Captain."
"I'm not. I'm being friendly. What is your name, Lance-Constable Short?"
"Holly. But you can't call me that while we're on duty. It violates police protocol."
"Hmmm... Holly suits you. But I should warn you that most of the guys call each other by their first names the majority of the time. And then there's the people like Foaly - our chief technician - who has never addressed anyone 'properly' in his life. And everyone uses first names or nicknames while off duty, hanging out together at the pub and such. Don't be offended if someone else asks for your name or 'flirts' with you. You don't need to pay attention to the flirts, because they probably aren't worth it. But you do need to pay attention to your squad-mates - they could be all that's between you and death on more than one occasion." Holly opened her mouth again, about to protest. "Not that I'm saying you need protection from anyone. Just ... things happen. You don't know - or want to know - how many times I've had my back to the wall in an impossible situation, and help then is always wanted - and acceptance of that help does not make you weak, it makes you stronger." He paused for a moment. "And anyway, I bet such a beautiful girl would be able to get herself out of any situation easily."
Trouble didn't see the hand coming towards him before he felt the impact of the slap. Holly was on her feet and livid, glaring at Trouble with the combined forces of two super-novas. Then she realised what she had done and dropped back into her seat.
"Oh, God. I'm sorry, Captain. I just ... I ..."
"I shouldn't have said that. I only said it to get a rise out of you Short, and I shouldn't have. Just put one point beside my name on the Complete Utter Bastard list."
Holly almost grinned. Almost. "I shouldn't have reacted like that. I'm just... I'm so sick of it. First at my previous jobs, then at the Academy. I... I'm sorry, Captain."
"Nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all. And I'm not going to report you for abusing an officer either, so relax."
She relaxed, only making a slight difference from her constantly alert usual state of existence. "It's just. Well, sometimes men have thought that I was resisting their advances just to be difficult, to give them a ride and... Well, then they find out and sometimes they... I'm a lesbian anyway."
"Hmm, I'm sure that a lot of men are sorry to hear that. But... Are you really? Or do you just have a complex which makes you always want to be different, always the underdog, the person who'll get more ridicule than anyone else? Making yourself an injured martyr whenever you can to prove your point, to make yourself feel justified."
Holly opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "How dare you say something like that? You don't know me at all!"
"I've read your file. And your psych report." He tapped a manila folder on his lap.
"You... That means you already knew my name!"
"Yes. Yes, I did. But I wanted you to tell me."
"How do I lodge an official complaint about a superior officer?"
"You can't. Not if the only reason for it is he was trying to get you used to pressures which stupider officers will most likely place upon you for real."
"Is the morally uplifting talk over? When do I start my training?"
"20 minutes ago, Holly. But now, we'll have a break and I'll take you to meet the squad."
Holly actually growled in response to this.
~ Holly ~ Punching his face isn't quite as satisfying as it usually is, not today. So I imagine the punching bag is my captain instead. It doesn't work either. I can still feel the rage flowing through my veins, the almost physical pang of wanting to hurt someone. Breath heaving, I drop to the floor and duck the swinging bag. I curl my hands into fists until the nails dig in and liquid seeps through my fingers.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the gym's wall length mirror. There are tiny drops of red blood on the carpet and my non-descript grey workout clothes, which somehow seem to highlight my figure. But the moon-shape nail marks are already healed – the wonders of being a fairy. My hair, dripping with sweat and caked with mud still accentuates my features. And the crew cut just makes me more attractive, ironically enough. I cut off my hair to be ugly, he didn't want me to do it, and … it makes my face look even prettier.
God, I wish I were ugly. Nothing would be as bad as it is if I was ugly.
"Hey, Hol. Are you almost finished? I've got a date tonight and I wanted to close the gym early." Jimmy – the gym owner and the only person to ever beat me in a karate tournament, when I was a newbie and also sick – calls. He looks down at me, slumped on the floor, sweat staining my clothes. "You look like you've really hammered that bag to hell and back." There's the unspoken question that there always is. I know something's more wrong that usual. If you ever want to talk, ever, even at noon on Christmas Eve, I'll be here for you.
"Yeah. I guess I did." I look up at the bag, hanging over my head like that mythological figure's sword that hung by a horse-hair.
"How was your first day on Recon? Catch any baddies or flatten any co-workers?"
I grin, still looking at my reflection in the mirror. "No baddies. One superior officer. And I've got a provisionary with Retrieval Seven. After a while with them I get moved to Recon."
"Was the team warned?"
"I bet they wished they had been. Although," even I can hear the distain in my voice, "some of them quite liked the idea of a new team-mate. It's amazing how popular being the only girl in a few hundred guys makes you." I finally look up at Jimmy. "You should join the ballet or something – all those girls, you'll get laid every night."
"I'll have you know I'm very popular anyway. You're holding me up for a date right now."
I feel instantly guilty and get to my feet. Jimmy sees the blood stains on the carpet, and the ones on my pants. I brush my hands down and cover them, but we both know what isn't been said, what isn't ever going to be said.
"It doesn't matter. I can stay in for another hour or so, you know… If you want to keep going?" There was the talk to me, Holly again. I try to keep my face neutral, but he still sees something there.
"When does he get home, Hol? Do you want to wait it out here for a bit longer? If… If you need to … You can come and stay at my place."
There are tears in my eyes, I can feel them. Jimmy can see them. I close my eyes tight, trying to get rid of them before they take me over – the way they have so many times before.
"What about your date? You've got to take them every chance you can, Jimmy. I'm fine. I swear it."
He looks at me straight. He can't believe me anymore. I can't believe me anymore.
"Sure, Hol. How about I leave the keys here and you can lock up whenever you're ready to go. I'm sure you can bash this poor bag around for another few hours."
"Thanks, Jim." He chucks me the keys and a small packet of tissues from behind a treadmill.
"I'll see you later, Hol. 'Kay?"
"Sure." I take a swig at the bag and it swings away from me. I give Jimmy a maniac grin as he looks back from the door. I know that I'm not kidding anyone but admitting it would be … it would only make things worse. I know it
The other lights are turned off and shadows lurk in the corners – the only light still on is the one right above the bag.
I swing again. Just once. That's for Jimmy and his concern.
And then I take another swing. Then each punch leads into the next one. I'm in a rage, uncontrolled and I don't care.
They're for him.
The date was horrible. Jimmy hadn't been able to keep his mind on the girl and well, she had taken it extremely well considering what she thought he was doing.
It wasn't until he was almost half of the way back to his apartment that he realized that he was taking the long route. So that he would pass by his small, unsuccessful and rather insignificant gym – pathetically named Jimmy's Gym, which is probably one of the reasons it's such a flop. But it was probably a good idea – just to check that Holly hadn't left a door open or a light on.
Turning the corner he can see the gym and sure enough there's a light left on. Jimmy rattles the doorknob, and at least that's locked properly. He pulls the spare keys from his pocket, opens the door and is about to turn off the single light when he spots Holly. She's lying on the disgusting carpets that smell of sweat – Jimmy has been meaning to get them cleaned for months now – whimpering in her sleep.
Jimmy feels the grimace on his face and his eyes are tingling with imminent tears. He bends down gently, shaking her awake, whispering soft words in her ear.
She wakes with a start, sobbing, and buries herself in Jimmy's dress-shirt.
"It's okay, Holly. Just a dream, okay. Just a dream."
"No it wasn't."
Holly's eyes are red-rimmed in the morning as she goes into Police Plaza; the redness is from both lack of sleep and crying. She could remember every minute of last night with horrible, emancipating clarity. And there wasn't enough time to go back home in the morning before work so she had just left a quick message on the answering machine. She would have to face the music in the night when she got back. God, she dreaded the idea of that.
The secretary raised her head from a pile of paperwork and a phone-call, and indicated to Holly that she should go into the briefing room. Holly could see most of her team through the partially frosted glass doors and the rest probably hadn't gotten in yet.
"--It's not we don't know who he is, Bell, it's that no one has been able to capture him yet. His name is Jonathan Millet. He hasn't been attempting to hide himself or his identity – not even while … killing the victims." The team is still, all of them trying to get their minds around the idea of someone who likes killing. Who doesn't care about taking innocent lives.
"Well, obviously. He doesn't need to hide his face if the people who are going to see him are going to be dead soon. Why should he bother?"
Holly is almost as shocked as the rest of the room is at what she said.
"Well, that's how I see it, anyway."
The people in the room start breathing again.
"An excellent observation into the criminal mind, Lance-Constable," congratulates the speaker at the front of the room. "Short is indeed right. Millet doesn't care about showing his identity because he intents to kill all the people who end up seeing him."
"But, then why do we know it's him? How could anyone ID him?"
"One of his potential victims escaped from him. She told the story to us and managed to ID him from a mug-shot. Since then – about a month ago – he has been on the run and we thought he had stopped killing because he was afraid. It turned out he hadn't. Last day, a body was found in Meta street. Another woman. The autopsy lap says that she had been dead for about threedays before she was found. Her name was Susanna Plantain. The … way she died … is by strangulation. Which is how Millet killed his 2 previous victims. He also … violated … his victims. Including Susanna."
The room contained the same horrified silence and stillness that it had before.
"How? Did he bite them? Make them up and give tea parties? Rape them? Say it. It helps if you say it."
It was Holly again. She could barely believe the words from her own mouth.
"Rape. She was raped, Short."
Holly's breath stopped. She had wanted the answer to be something else, anything else. Tears prickled in her eyes.
"If you would like, Holly," that was Captain Kelp, "you could go outside. You don't have to hear all this. Go to the bathroom, wipe your eyes."
"Why?! I don't need to do that! Why did you single me out for that, Captain? Bell doesn't want to be here. Why do you ask me to leave when he very clearly wants to?" She wiped a hand across her eyes, the hand shaking with emotion.
"I wasn't being discriminatory, Short. I swear. Just… you don't have to be here. Not if you don't want to be."
"Yes I do. It would be betraying those girls if I left."
Trouble nodded and indicated to the lecturer that he should go on.
"Well, that's it really. I've got all the other information here and we need to look through it all so that we can try and find out where he might be hiding, who he might go after next. I've put the data together in piles – not by victim but by the aspects that might have some pattern. Most of it's on the computers but there's a few newspaper articles and such I didn't have time to scan before Foaly kicked me out of the room for acting suspicious."
"Foaly?" Holly whispers to the elf next to her.
"Absolutely mad. A centaur, of course. LEP Head of Technology. Pretty much the head of technology for the Underground as well. But he's paranoid. If you add up all the people that are supposedly out to get him I bet they add up to more than the population of the Earth – Underground and Over."
"Right. I'll keep that in mind for when I meet him. Want to join me in studying location?"
"Fine by me."
~ Holly ~ I probably look absolutely furious. Barging into the gym, heading straight for the dojo. But I don't really care all that much. The only thing important to me right now is letting out some of this anger. And punching his face in. God, I wish I had the guts to do that for real.
"God, I hate him."
"I know you do, Hol."
"Oh. Jimmy. I said that aloud?"
He nodded.
"What did he say about last night?"
"A complete load of shit. But… well, I kind of made it seem as though … as though … wearegoingout. I hope you're not angry."
"Of course, I not. Create rumours about me being with the most beautiful gal in Haven whenever you wish. Did it make it any better?"
"Well, instead of ranting about my homosexuality making me abnormal and wrong, it was about the wonders of birth control. I think the meaning was something along the lines of 'I don't want a miniature brat around as well to make my life even more of a hell'."
I can feel the tears in my eyes, and, how much would I give for them to not be there. Jimmy graps me in an awkward sideways hug which is still comforting.
"Don't worry about him, okay, Hol?"
I nod.
How twisted is that? His opinion still matters to me. Even after all the shit he's put Mum and I through. And he's proven he's a senseless, idiotic bigot more than once. More than once an hour, that is. But I still want him to love me. Hell, I'll settle for him not hating me. And I wish I wanted that so that when I prove just how much I hate him it'll hurt him. And hurt him hard. But …
I bet there's some psychological reason which an LEP analyst will pull from me at the next psych test. God, I hate psychology. All those reasons for why you are as you are… It means you can be put down in a computer file somewhere, your world-shattering problems reduced to a heap of 1s and 0s. Wouldn't his psych test be something interesting.
"What did you say?" I bearly heard him. "Hol?"
"I told the fucking bastard that he is a fucking bastard and that he should go and shove his birth protection where the moon doesn't shine. But where lots of moonlight will shine once I'm done with a machete." I look up and Jimmy and grin. "Well, without the fuck, the bastard and the moonlight. Or the machete."
"Why?"
I feel my eyebrows crease as I look up at him.
"Why didn't you say all those other things? You mean them. He could do with hearing them, as well."
"I… It would just makes it worse. I've done it a few times, lost my head at him and then… It just got worse after. For Mum as well."
"I would say that you should leave home - you're definitely old enough - but I already know why you don't want to do that."
He knows it. I know it. If I leave it'll be worse for Mum. At least he's scared to give me bruises where people will be able to see them now. I've taken to dressing like a slut with low neck-lines and wide mid-drifts for just that reason. The cat-calls from guys and the taunts from him are better. I've wanted to leave before – I even ran away a few times when I was younger – and I wanted Mum to come too but … she loves him somehow. I don't know how. Or why.
"How about I just challenge you to a match instead." Jimmy says; throwing the tracksuit I leave here in my direction and tying a thick fabric band across his own forehead.
"Karate?"
"Nar. Pilates."
I grin at him and, behind the forced movement I do feel something, which in bad lighting could be called amusement. "You're on. Pilates it is."
Jimmy grins at me, and pulls a bench out of the way so that we have more room to move and attack.
"If you've ever attended a Pilates class in your life, I'll eat my wings. While in flight too."
"That would be interesting. Very interesting actually, given how tough and chewy Sprite wings are. Well, once I was going to a physical training seminar, but I hadn't copied down the location correctly so I ended up in the wrong building entirely and well, since a class was on, I de—"
"Shut up, Holly! Fight me."
"I'd be delighted."
Soon my muscles overtook the movements and my brain was allowed to sink into the background. I've fought Jimmy so many times that I could do it in my sleep. It's not that he's bad – he's more than reasonable – but it's just that I know him well enough to predict even his best moves. And I have time to remember last night.
In the moments after I was forced awake, I only wished that I could sleep again. Not because I want the dreams, but because in sleep I can only give my friend suspicions, not answers. If I'm awake I might crack, and I truly don't know what I would do then. Cry probably. Then run away as far as I could possibly go. Scrap that, I was already crying.
"It's okay, Holly." I could hear through the chaos of my own thoughts and emotions. "Just a dream, okay. Just a dream."
But, I wanted to protest, not everything you think of as a dream is. Not everything you hope is a dream is. And rarely what you dream about is real. But sometimes it is. And sometimes you wish that nothing was dreams, and that nothing was real, and that nothing existed at all.
"No it wasn't." I tried to take a bigger breath though the sobs. "It wasn't only a dream. It was reality first, and only after that did it become a dream."
Jimmy pulled me tight, cradling my head in his large hands. "Tell me, Holly. Talking helps. It always helps, if only a little. If it only helps friends to understand you."
"I … I can't. And I don't want to." I said softly. Then louder, as anger at him, at the world, at Jimmy, takes over. "I don't want to talk to anyone!"
Jimmy nodded slightly, pulling me closer, even as I was trying to pull away. He wiped my eyes with the sleeve of his dress shirt.
"How about a truth for a truth? I tell you something, and you tell me something in return."
I didn't think that I nodded, responded, but Jimmy started talking anyway.
"I grew up in an orphanage. I was told that my father had died at the hands of the Mud Men just after I was conceived and that my mother had died in childbirth. One day myself and a group of others decided to raid the main office of the orphanage to get our files. And I found out that both my parents are alive. And that I had a twin, a sister, named Susanna. And that my parents had given me up because they had only wanted one child. My sister had grown up with them, while I was given up."
He sighed. "Now it's your turn, Hol. The truth."
"I… I can't."
"Okay, I'll ask you questions instead. And you can answer, or nod, or do nothing at all."
I felt Jimmy move slightly, moving his arms to cradle me more comfortably.
"Your father beats you because he doesn't like girls, especially not those trying to be tough, trying to have power."
I said, did, nothing, just staring over his shoulder at the darkened wall behind him.
"He's hated you since you were born, but you hated him back so you did everything you could to make him hate you even more than he already did. That's why you've worked so hard to become the best at karate, and fighting, and got the job with the LEP – all those things he hates a girl to be doing."
"No." I shake my head, still not looking at him. "I did all that so I could be able to protect myself."
Jimmy's hand brushed down the side of my face, smoothing the skin.
"Did it work, Holly?"
"No, Jimmy. No it didn't. But nothing works against him, not really. Nothing works against someone who thinks of life as a game to be won. And believes that if something can't be won then it must be destroyed."
"Well, then you'll just have to tip the game board upside down, wont you?"
"It's not that easy. You know it's not. He's my father; I can't do anything about him. I can't."
"It's not your fault that he's your father. That's entirely the fault of your parents." Jimmy grinned at me, and I almost slapped him then.
"Not my mother. Never my mother. All she ever did was love him, even though he cared nothing about her. And she still loved him, even after he raped her and got her pregnant. He saw her watching him at work – they used to work together – and decided he liked that. And then one day he tricked her, cornered her, and then he raped her. And that's why I exist. Isn't it charming? Every time since he's been careful about birth-control. And when that's not worked… My mother's had three miscarrages. I was watching the second time. I was watching as he pushed her down the stairs, trying to hurt her enough that she lost the baby. I think Mum did it herself the last time. He hadn't even known about the baby yet so Mum just got rid of it before he did it for her."
I looked, finally, into Jimmy's green-tinged face. "That's the truth. Does it make you feel any better? Because it doesn't make me feel any better."
"Your father raped Hannah – your mother? But… why isn't he in Howler's doing life?"
"He had a good lawyer. And Mum defended him, pretended that it didn't happen that way. For her family, from her snobby, upper-class background, it was better to be unmarried and pregnant than raped and pregnant – though not by much."
"Maybe it didn't happen that way. Maybe you've just—"
"He did. I know he did. He likes sex to be painful. He likes screams. I know."
Jimmy swallowed, stuttered, tried to comprehend it. "He… He's done that to you? Please tell me he hasn't done that to you, Hol."
"That's what you want to hear is it? Okay then, he hasn't done that to me."
"When?"
"A few times. Just after I hit puberty. But not for a few years now. Now he's scared of me." My voice wasn't gleeful, not triumphant, just … resigned. Sad. Oh, God, I want him to care for me.
"Good. I'm glad he's scared of you, Hol. He should be bloody scared of me as well!"
I grasped his arm as he made to stand up. "Don't. He's my problem to deal with. Not yours. Please… don't get involved. Please."
"I… Sure, Holly. But… you can come over anytime you like. If you want to talk, or escape, or a hug from someone who can probably manage to control himself. You know where I am, 'kay?"
I nodded. And he pulled me into the promised hug. His arms are warm, his breath against my cheek comforting, and I squish his cool wings slightly as I wrap my arms around him.
"I'm sorry."
"Wha--? Why, Hol? For what?"
"About you growing up in that orphanage."
He laughs slightly, and even though it's at me I find it the most reassuring thing in the world.