Holly felt the stares burning through her skull as she walked down the hall. The heated whispers that had become daily company to the unfortunate elf hung in the air like poisoned gas;"-broke the poor commander's heart-""-cheated on him, the ungrateful bit-""-I would never have done such a thing to him-"

Holly ignored them, wondering what exactly they were paid for, since they seemed to have nothing more to do, day after day, than make her feel miserable.

Months had passed; It hadn't changed. The divorce had made everything so final, and everyone had found out. It was obvious, once the two had stopped talking to each other, and people had wondered. It wasn't long before they started talking.

She entered her office, closing the door behind her and leaning against it, shutting her eyes. She wondered why this bothered her so much. She had never before cared what people said about her, and they had always had something to say. She guessed the difference had something to do with the fact that someone had always had something good to say. Not now.

There were probably only three people left who weren't whispering about her behind her back; One had locked himself almost permanently in his control booth, and the other two lived too far away (A couple thousand miles above) to know anything about her life.

After yanking her short hair roughly into a ponytail with an elastic she had found on her desk, she set about doing what had become her habit at work in the past few months; turning on her computer and pretending she had work to do. The truth was that she did, but she just didn't have any desire to do anything about it. Unsigned documents piled up around her, each threatening to topple and crush her.

Honestly, she almost wished that they would.

……..

Ema screamed. Her mind had simply shut down while it tried to comprehend the situation in front of her, and she screamed.

Ema had always figured that she'd be good in a crisis, calm an commanding. But apparently not.

As the information fed from her eyes reached her brain, she started to understand; Diane lay sprawled across the bathroom tiles, her skin white as a sheet, her eyes closed, perspiration shining on her face as her body convulsed.

Ema reached into her back pocket as rational thought became once again possible for her, pulling out her cell phone, cursing technology as she read the flashing message on the small screen that declared that she was outside her service area. She threw the accursed machine aside, grabbing her friend's out of her pocket. She was relieved to feel a pulse as her hand brushed Diane's.

Calling the emergency number, waiting to be connected, she placed a thin finger against her friend's neck. The magic needed a slight push to leave it's owner's body, but she thrust it forcefully into Diane, watching the blue sparks dancing across her skin with distaste. She hated her magic.

She hung up the phone once telling the operator where they were. Running as fast as her short legs would take her, she screamed for help from the doorway of their room. Rushing back to her friend, checking for any obvious sign of injury; Had she hurt herself playing basketball, but been too proud to admit that something was wrong? No, she thought, Diane was never ashamed of an injury. She constantly bragged about the fractures, breaks, bruises and sprains she had received in various sports, considering them "battle scars".

Remembering her simple first aid, she covered the shuddering Irish girl with a quilt. She then sat on the closed toilet, and stared blankly at the Diane's ashen face, feeling her own drain of colour.

Hours could have passed, or it could have been days. People rushed around Ema, gently lifting Diane to a gurney, deciding that the girl shouldn't be moved far, and placing her on her bed. Machines were wheeled into he room, life support set up. Someone placed a blanket over Ema's shoulders, but she didn't see their face. Time had sped up, but it had slowed down, too.

After using her magic for the first time in months, she felt drained, empty. Her stomach growled. Ema could ignore everything from evil siblings to toddlers playing the violin, but she couldn't ignore her own body, so she dragged herself out of the bathroom, still wrapped in the blanket, and through her dark room. She was glad that she couldn't see Diane, but she could hear her ragged breathing, the whirring, clicking, beeping of the machines. She wandered around through the enormous mansion, trying in vain to find the kitchen. Finally, she found the kitchen (Which was larger then the entire main floor of her own home), but, to her dismay, it was not empty.

"Hello, Ema," Artemis said. He sat at the table, a steaming cup of tea in front of him. Ema stood frozen in the door. In her hunger and desire to find food, she hadn't really thought that anyone else would be there.

She examined her father's face; His salt-and-pepper hair was lank and unkempt, as though he had tossed and turned for a while before coming downstairs. His skin was ashen, and dark purple bags hung under his eyes. His back was slightly hunched, and he leaned protectively over the table, his hands grasped around the cup.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, standing up and moving toward the fridge. Ema moved warily into the room, keeping her eyes on Artemis. He didn't seem the kind to try and force a touching father-daughter moment, but she didn't know him well enough to be sure. She sat at the opposite end of the table from Artemis' cup of tea, her eyes now fixed on her clasped hands in front of her.

He came back with a plate of leftovers from their dinner. Ema scarfed them down, burning her tongue in the process. She replaced her fork, realizing, to her dismay, that she would have to wait for the food to cool. Artemis sat across from her. He linked his fingers, rested his elbows upon the table and his head upon them. His eyes, blue and brown, stared her down.

Ema stared at the table. This is a really comfortable father-daughter moment, she thought. A strand of red hair fell into her eyes, and she didn't try to brush it away.

Artemis, unaccustomed as he was to speaking with teenagers, cleared his throat. "Are you alright?" Ema raised an eyebrow.

"My friend is upstairs, nearly dead." A pink flush spread over Artemis' cheekbones.

Ema picked up the fork again, trying to swallow some of the food without it hitting her tongue. "Right," Artemis said, shaking her head and taking a quick sip of his tea. "Of course, you're not alright. I'm sorry, that was uncalled for." Ema nodded, slowing her swallowing as she felt her throat blister. Finally, after a long moment of awkward silence, she gave up, and, her basic needs satisfied, she stood to leave and go to bed. Full, she now felt her exhaustion weighing down on her, and felt her eyes grow heavy. Standing, she turned to leave the room.

"Well, not that this wasn't fun, but I think that I'll go to bed now," Ema said, rolling her eyes, her natural teenage sarcasm blatantly evident.

With that, she turned and made her way back to her room. She was so tired that the trip seemed half as long as it had before she had eaten.

She had moved her things into the room next to the original one, as it was clogged with beeping and whirring machines. It was nearly the same in both style and furnishings; basically, as far as possible from Ema's taste, though she had to admit it wasn't as bad as anticipated; dark wood, red velvet, and gold leaf were the primal fixtures in the room. However, she didn't waste much time examining the decor, instead falling flat onto the bed, still dressed, and was passed out in seconds.

……..

The apartment was dark when Holly returned that evening. It always was, though, nowadays. No one really cared where she was or what she was doing, or even if she was still alive. Most of her friends had slowly distanced themselves from her after the divorce, and why wouldn't they? It was her fault it had ended, her fault that she had to go and be a little slut….

The silence was deafening as Holly prepared dinner, a simple meal of frozen veggies on leftover rice. She ate in the living room, though she didn't turn on the TV. The darkness of the room settled like a dark shroud around the tiny elf.

Suddenly, Holly noticed that she did not sit in perfect darkness, as she had thought; a tiny red light pulsated from the corner of the room.

The answering machine. Since friends and co-workers had stopped calling, so had she stopped checking for missed ones. She really didn't even know why she still had it, if not out of a half-hearted attempt to believe that the possibility of a call was real. She checked the call on the small screen, and realized that it had been recorded now for three days. She hit the play button, listening to the irritating pre-recorded message:

"One new message, 6:55 P.M." The machine beeped, then cut into the message, "Hello. Holly?" Holly's breath hitched; the voice was uncertain, but yet perfectly recognizable. "It's me…Artemis…I don't even know if I can still reach you here…It's been a while." he paused hesitantly. "I just wanted to let you know that…Emalline is going to be spending the Holidays with Melanie and me…if you wanted too drop by, I'm sure it would mean a lot to her to see her…mother. Bye." The line went dead quickly, and once more, the apartment was drowned in silence.

"No new messages," the machine said. Holly glared at it as she returned to her dinner, but sighed dejectedly. No even the answering machine was mocking her…

……..

Okay, now I must make a very brief apology, before my usual author's notes.

I'M SORRY!!!!!!!!!

I know that I said I'd have this up by the end of August, but I'm only four months past that deadline. I forgot! And fell victim to S.S.S.!!!! (do you even know what that is? It stands for Sucky Sequel Syndrome. Ha.)

Again, I am really and truly sorry, and I spent the past four hours finishing this, and on YULE, too, so you better be happy. XP

……..

Well, thanks for reading, and for those who have stuck by me during my creatively-dry spell, thank you. I hope for your reviews.

Again, really sorry that I forgot about this story, but I've kind of forgone writing altogether these past few months. I've written snippets of dialog in my ELA Writer's Journal, but other than that, nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada.

I hoped you liked Sarcastic Ema, Awkward Artemis, and Depressed Holly! (One big happy screwed-up family, eh?) Please review!

On a quick side-note, if you haven't read Secretive or Always a Secret Please do so before the next update, which will be, hopefully sooner than Litha, K!?

Your source for all things cynical and Sarcastic,

Realistic Fate