Fowl Manor
Artemis leaned against his door. His hands covered his face, and a sigh slipped through his parted lips.
He hadn't expected this. He had expected her to be upset, he was prepared for her to think of him as evil beyond words because… because that's what the feelings of déjà vu, the feelings of remorse kicked in the most.
But she had seen him, and threw her self around, screaming bloody murder.
There were two things about this.
First, it didn't feel familiar, it was something unexpected.
That was good.
The second reason- he worried. Not for her health, not for her sanity, but he worried that he may have damaged goods to barter with.
He let him self wonder if the People would risk exposure over something that would more likely kill it self in a matter of days. Then again, a body is evidence.
Sighing again, he sat down before his desk, trying to revise his plan.
"I'm going insane," she muttered as she threw her self at the wall again, "fucking insane."
As a scream was torn raggedly from her throat, the wall came into intimate contact with her fist.
Knuckles throbbing, she beat her head against the door after every repetition of "crazy… I'm going fucking crazy…"
She felt the need to run, the need to break something.
The bed seemed like a good start to the cure of her feelings.
Throwing her thin frame onto the sheets, she breathed in deeply of the laundry detergent. Tears threatened to spill. She muffled another scream in the sheets, gripping them tightly as she emptied her lungs. She clenched her eyes shut, making the tears spill out, dappling the sheets with salt water. Lifting from the sheets, she sniffled, and fingered the two wet spots gingerly. Her thoughts drifted to the most random things.
In her mind, there was a flash of gold.
Moon shine on a wet beach, ocean eyes- ocean waves lapping at the land, teasing; like a lover. Mocking; like an enemy.
The moon's blue breath surrounded the trees; green, the sand; brown, and the waters; black. That was all that could be seen.
She moaned and threw her self into the sheets again.
Thinking of him again, remembering eyes, remembering touches, remembering words that were whispered.
'His eyes were closed, damn it.' she told her self, 'closed.'
'He was asleep, damn it. Knocked out.' she reminded her self again.
Another flash of gold.
There were no lights in her room. Darkness surrounded her, held her closely. Muffled cries came from her lips, from behind the cloth.
"I don't love him!" screaming as loudly as she could, she denied her heart.
"It's wrong! Vile!" she spat, throwing things, starting from pillows against the walls to mugs. "Fucking someone like him? What the hell?" she scoffed at her self, "Disgusting." She threw her last mug against the wall, relishing in the shatter.
Shatter.
One year. Just one year. And she felt like she was going to either kill her self, or everyone else then her self.
His eyes, they not only saw her, they didn't only see through her, they wrapped around her, enveloping her in an unforgiving sea. She drowned in his eyes.
Eyes that she hadn't seen for one year.
It felt so unclean and pitiful, so wrong and dirty, that she scratched at her skin, trying to rid her self of the violated feeling.
Two species, two different century-born entities, do not a happy ending make.
Yet, she lay on her bed, jumper carelessly thrown somewhere else in her room, crumpled in a corner somewhere, in nothing but undergarments, thinking about those damn eyes.
Slim, delicate fingers. Fingers that caught the spinning coin and a blush that crossed a face.
Eyes. Lips. Shoulders. Chest.
Lower.
Memories. She hated them.
She couldn't understand them.
They've been tearing at her soul, at her mind, at her health for too long.
A year later, isn't supposed to be like this.
A year later, she was supposed to forget. She wasn't supposed to always think back at any given moment and dwell on eyes.
Eyes. Lips. Shoulders. Chest.
Lower.
Lower.
No. No, no, no.
She moaned again, not only from pain, but from the feeling that stirred in her.
She denied it, screamed again and again that she hated him.
Slipping her fingers-fingers that aren't as delicate, that aren't as enticing- between her own legs, meeting the wetness there and the new tears welling up in her eyes, she moaned, she screamed that she hated him.
That he wasn't the reason for her being.
That she didn't need him. Didn't want him.
Sliding her fingers into her self, moving them. Faster, scream.
"I- ah! I don't!"
Faster, scream.
"Huh… ah… I… oh…AH!"
Faster, scream.
"I DON'T LOVE HIM."
Muscles clenching, arched back, head thrown to the side, Holly whispered, "Artemis."
She berated her self, hating how his name escaped her lips so lightly, in such a carefree manner.
Ocean eyes.
Trees, sand, ocean.
Blue.
Hazel.
Forever existing, forever will the ocean tempt the rest of the land.
Forever will his memory torment her.
Holly lay on the ground, the cement was uncomfortable, but she had no strength to lift her self up. Memories came back to her.
The initial napping, healing his mother.
B'wa Kell, healing his father.
The Lower Elements being blipped, bring Butler back from the dead.
Holly had done much for him, and let her young mind fall in love with him. Now she lay in the same cell that she had been in six years ago.
Six years.
Three sense she had last seen him. Was it three? Maybe. She didn't know. She didn't care.
Resentment boiled in her.
Anger sizzled and simmered.
Reaching a breaking point, Holly screamed out and threw her self up, making her feet support her weight. Animal like rage consuming her, she seethed and glared about the room.
The last time, she had an acorn.
But last time, it all ended well.
Holly made a resolution. She promised her self, that after those first years of knowing him, of always worrying that they would be exposed, and the year after. The year after where her soul was eaten by the thoughts of him. After all of that, and the two years of repeating a routine over and over again, being a stranger with Root again, taking her life for granted, not remembering something that important in a life, and the metal door, the brick wall that sealed off the most tender and raw part of her; an unhealed wound. After all of that, she promised that she would not let it be a happy ending like six years ago. She promised that what ever happened, it would end.
She would make sure of it.
She would end.
He would end.
LEP Headquarters
Foaly clipped into Root's office, eyes unblinking, fingers numb.
He closed the door after walking over the threshold. Eyes still unseeing and cast to the ground, he stepped in front of Root's desk and sat in a chair. His foil hat had been thrown off a while ago. It was cast somewhere in the office. Lips parted to speak, but his voice was cut off by Root's own demanding tones.
"Do you remember, Foaly," he paused to glance at the centaur, "do you remember how he escaped the time-stop?"
Foaly blinked at the commander and stammered, "Y-y-yes, he… changed the state of mind… sleeping pills," he blinked again at the commander, how was shaking his head. "Commander?" giving it a moment of hesitation, he corrected him self, "Julius?"
"He won last time, because we gave him faire warning," seeing the quizzical look on the genius' face, Root continued, "he knew when we were going to blue rinse the manor. And that was…" he looked expectantly at Foaly, waiting for him to finish the sentence.
"..after we got Holly..?" the centaur tried.
Root looked back at him with eyes that were so dull and dead that Foaly shivered, "Exactly."
"What… what are you trying to say, Ju-" an impatient hand went up when Foaly was about to speak so personally, "commander, then. What do you mean?" worry made it self ever present across Foaly's physiognomy. 'What is going through his head?' the brown eyed one asked himself.
A frown creased the old elf's brow, and his age showed more than it ever had. Foaly thought he saw a shadow of a tear trickle down a cheek.
"I'm old… too old… and Holly… she's older than I, when it comes to grievances. And when it comes to grievances, I already feel dead."
Silence ensued, the freezing sort of silence. The sort of silence that only exists before an explosion. An eruption. The sort of silence that is not comforting, the sort of silence that bad things can only follow.
"Prepare a team. We're going to time-stop Fowl Manor. Prepare a blue rinse. Don't ask questions. Don't even look at me. Remember," Root looked through Foaly "you can't speak to and see the dead. And I think my heart has stopped."
Ugh… don't look at me like that. This chapter wasn't as good as the last one. -shudders- I'm sorry. -weeps-
Now, reviewers. Must. Thank them.
Torina Archelda: Thank you very much. I'm sorry that this chapter isn't as up to par. But my mind is totally fried.
Dorinda: Good to hear that you liked it. And I hope that you won't be suffering from withdrawal.
jjeeff185: Thank you for giving me hope. I think. ;
Marfbag: You return! Greetings. And thank you for reviewing.
neutralgal: updated
FlyingPurplePig: Keep going… like the energizer bunny. "And going and going and going and going…" you see where this is going. Thank you for the review.
slime frog: Greetings. Wow. Your reviews are… highly amusing and inspiring. Hahahahaha. Hoped you somewhat enjoyed the chapter. (Every one read slime's story, The Seven Deadly Sins of Holly Short.) -whistles- I did nothing. O.o