Chapter Two
Commander Julius Root watched as a shuttle docked smoothly in front of him, engines fading from a roar to a whisper and then to silence. The port's chaos was still clangorous around him, and behind that was the howl of core winds that emanated from beyond the still-open blast doors, but his pointed elfin ears barely even twitched as he stared dead ahead at his target.
Fowl was wearing a recyclable LEP jumpsuit when he stepped out of the shuttle behind Captain Short, who appeared to be leading him by the hand. The Commander didn't question why she was leading him, however, because the horrific injuries to the human's eyes were plainly visible. He'd seen the footage from Holly's helmet, of course, but in person the damage looked a million times worse. The human's eyes had been completely burned out, leaving empty sockets covered over by layers of silver-pink scar tissue. Despite the fact that he knew Fowl couldn't see him, Root felt a twinge in his gut and resisted the urge to shudder. What kind of barbarian could do this to another living, breathing creature, let alone to one of their own species?
It was impossible to fathom. He decided not to try.
"So, you brought the Mud Man here. And what, pray tell, do you intend to do with him?"
Holly held her head high. "I'm going to let him stay with me."
Root snorted. "Ridiculous. He has a home above ground, with his own kind! Just send him back and be done with it. You did your part by playing prison break."
The pained expression that flashed across Artemis' face, and the way Holly's ears fell in sympathy, told him it wasn't going to be quite that simple.
Tilting her head to indicate that they should talk on the move, Holly lead the way toward the exit, away from the curious gazes and whispers that were following them. Root fell into step beside her, leveling his best glare at any rubberneckers as he went. The way they were gawking galled him. It wasn't right. On some level, he understood their curiosity, but at the same time all the attention made him feel uncomfortable, angry, and protective all at once. Fowl was a person, not a freak show!
When he turned his attention back to Holly, she met his eyes, a hollow quality entering her voice. "There isn't anybody else. They're all dead, Commander. His family, I mean. The Butlers too. And there's no guarantee that anyone will be able to help him if we leave him at a hospital."
Years ago Fowl would have interjected, or at least offered a passing comment, by now. The boy had loved any chance to demonstrate his impressive intellect – as most geniuses did, in Root's experience. As they walked, however, he remained completely silent, following Holly's lead and giving no sign that he heard or cared about what was being said. Root gritted his teeth, hand twitching next to his empty pocket. If only he'd thought to bring one of his cigars! He was no fool. He had seen and heard enough to guess at what had happened to Fowl since they'd last seen him – some of it, at any rate, though probably not the entire picture. He could also guess at why Holly felt responsible for Fowl's welfare after she'd been the one to rescue him. The problem was that while he understood (and agreed with) her intentions, the fact remained that he wasn't sure whether or not she was the best fairy for this job. Her record indicated that she had no prior experience with caregiving, having grown up with no siblings or close relatives, and she certainly had no experience with more complicated cases, such as caring for a blind human. Was she really capable of handling this?
The fiery determination fueling his captain's every movement was enough to make Root back off for now. He'd known Holly long enough to feel safe trusting her lead (as he often couldn't stop her from taking the lead anyway when she was set on it). She was a headstrong elf, to be sure, and proud, not unlike he himself had been at that age, but not too proud to seek help if she needed it. He hoped. Worst case scenario, Holly would let him know that she couldn't handle things and he'd have the human moved to a facility that was better equipped to handle him. No harm done. He'd even try to make sure she could visit from time to time if it came to that; the goal was to make sure Fowl was being cared for, not to cut him off from all contact.
Root nodded to himself, the decision seeming to take on a tangible weight as he made it. There was every chance that his misgivings were for nothing. And if the People were the only chance Fowl had now, then who better to help him than the one fairy he'd gotten to develop a rapport with? Experience told him that trust was important when it came to dealing with people. Who knew? Maybe it would make the difference in this equation.
Still, before the unlikely duo reached the turbolifts, Root reached out to grip Holly's free arm, halting her – and by proxy, Artemis – until she met his gaze. "If you're set on this, I won't stop you. But there's another being's life in your hands now, Holly. Hold it carefully, for Frond's sake."
Those implacable hazel eyes filled with surprise and hesitation for a moment. Then her expression settled and she nodded. Once. Just once.
Root let go.
oOoOo
Artemis bumped his head no less than three times as Holly lead him up the narrow, cramped staircase. He took the precaution of ducking after that, and made sure to feel for the door frame first before following her into her apartment. A cool breeze hit his face as Holly lead him further inside, and Artemis tilted his face toward it, enjoying the familiar sensation even as he tried to categorize it. An advanced air conditioning unit? If so, it was exceptionally quiet. It was more likely that Holly had left a window open; the filtered below-ground air put him in mind of a single giant air conditioner, the atmosphere carrying a constant stale quality despite any efforts to freshen it up.
He supposed that made sense. The air never went anywhere new, after all.
"Home sweet home," came the observation from somewhere to his left. "It's not much, but I found a pretty big couch at a clearing-out sale a while back, so that's yours if you want it. Or, you know, I could give you some blankets and you can sleep on the floor. Whatever works."
The shrug accompanying the words was audible.
"Thank you," Artemis murmured, moving forward with his hands outstretched. Despite that, a sharp edge – coffee table, he decided when he examined it more carefully – clipped him in the shin, and he bit back a curse. Right. Everything here was at a comfortable height for a fairy. That had slipped his mind. The last time he'd been underground, he'd been close enough to standard fairy height that normal seats and other LEP gear had been able to accommodate him. The shuttle's seat harnesses hadn't fit him on the ride down this time, though: at five feet and some inches, Artemis was at least two feet bigger than the subterranean designers had planned for.
Had this been how Butler felt back then? Heart clenching at the memories that tried to unearth themselves, he pushed the thought to the back of his mind. Wishing wouldn't bring the dead back to life. Better to leave the past where it belonged.
Circling the table, his hands brushed against three long, flat cushions. This was the couch, then. Holly hadn't been overestimating when she told him that he could sleep on it. It felt big enough to accommodate five fairies with ease, perhaps more if they were willing to crowd together.
After making sure that he wasn't in danger of squashing anything, Artemis sat, then stretched out on his side, rubbing absent little patterns into the velveteen fabric with one thumb. The world around him seemed both vivid and muted at once, every sound sharp and clear but also distant, as though they couldn't strike him with their usual force. He had no idea what to make of it. Part of him knew that he should at least try to start processing everything that had happened that day, but the heaviness dragging at his limbs and the exhaustion stifling his thoughts made that next to impossible. Artemis decided to postpone dealing with things for a while; he'd be able to think more clearly after some rest.
Just before he drifted off to sleep, he heard a noise that seemed closer than the others. A throat being cleared?
His facial muscles moved as though to squint. Focus, or an attempt at it.
"I'll get you some water. You don't have to drink it now. It'll be on the table in front of you."
Artemis hummed. Thanks, perhaps, or acknowledgement, or both. He wasn't sure. Then sleep rose up like a dark, soothing wave, clearing away the last few thoughts that chased each other through his brain.
oOoOo
Holly stood stock-still for a long moment, trying to put a name to the emotions warring in her chest. There was a human sleeping on her couch. Artificial sunlight streaming in through the window dappled his dark, raven-colored hair, and his nose twitched every so often, wrinkling or relaxing as he reacted to whatever was happening in his dreams.
I brought him… here? What was I thinking?
But of course she had. Dubious as the human's status might be, it wasn't in Holly's nature to leave another being in danger, even Artemis Fowl. Though with everything Holly had seen over the past few hours, holding his past crimes against him felt less and less appropriate. There were more important things to worry about now. Time had moved on since their first meeting, and so had Holly's career. As annoying as she'd found being placed on surveillance duty a few years ago, Root had managed to bring her back into active service as a Recon agent 16 months previously. The few missions that had been thrown her way since then had gone well. Very well, even. The Council would be meeting soon to promote her, if the department scuttlebutt could be trusted.
Which meant that Artemis' actions had had no lasting negative consequence on her career, or at least none that had been impossible to overcome. So were they truly even as she had told him when they parted ways outside Tara? It was one thing to offer forgiveness to someone she assumed she'd never cross paths with again, quite another to end up with the same person as a roommate years later.
Holly rubbed her forehead with the heel of one palm. It helped relieve the pressure building behind her eyes. One thing was clear; there were no easy answers in a situation like this. As such, she made a stealthy retreat to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of cool, purified water. Her motto had always been that sitting idle was no way to deal with a crisis, and that included the emotional kind. Time to catch up on her paperwork before it got unmanageable.
And if sitting at the table to drink her water while she worked meant she could keep an eye on her unexpected guest, so much the better.
oOoOo
When Root got back to his office, he was greeted by a bright red light flashing on his answering machine. Unread messages. The frantic speed indicated that there were multiple messages; experience indicated that they would likely be unpleasant ones.
Mood souring, Root sighed, stomping to his desk and pulling out a cigar. Better get it over with now.
Over the next few minutes he listened to no less than fifty frantic voicemails. Some were average police business, but the majority were summons to an urgent Council meeting. Wing Commander Vinyáya had even left a message for him herself a few minutes earlier – her tone had carried an air of controlled worry, which made it infinitely more pleasant than the rest, all things considered. That was only to be expected, though. Root's position was as much a political office as a military one, which meant that he'd become acquainted early and often with every member of the Council, not just the key players. No doubt they were all frantic to know why Captain Short had deviated from the book so drastically, and why he hadn't court marshaled her on the spot for it.
Lighting his cigar, Root stood up, kicked his desk chair back into place, and stepped outside to roar at his secretary, letting her know in no uncertain terms where she could route all nonessential calls. He had a meeting to attend, and it promised to be an unpleasant one.