Chapter Six: A Change of Approach

•Post TLG•

The old flats loomed broodingly, sadly over the littered streets of one of Haven's neglected residential areas, a branch of the main road that stretched so far in that it lost the distinct tinge of civilization and started to warp into a kind of ghost town. There were the flats, takeaway joints, an electrical repair shop and a single run-down salon that very few frequented- the neighbourhood was an entirely different world from the advancing metropolis that represented Haven City.

Holly Short tried the main door to her building and most unsurprisingly, found it jammed again.

She heaved at it, tried to batter it in with her shoulder and only received an ache for her efforts. She scowled at the synthetic wooden door. "D'Arvit to you, too," she said, and aimed a kick that yielded results.

"D'Arvit," she muttered, noticing at once the irreversible damage she'd done to the hinges. She surveyed the claustrophobic staircase landing that it opened up to. Lights off, lifeless. She supposed propping the door up as if nothing had happened would be okay, for tonight.

The broken door was the only reason she kept her footsteps quiet as she marched up the stairs. She wanted to be stomping the floor. Hammering it with her boots like this whole ordeal was its fault. No waking up the landlord, though. Not with the condition she'd left the common door in.

Holly made it to her flat and collapsed on the sofa as soon as she'd locked her own door for privacy.

She glared long and hard at the ceiling, as long as an elf's eyes could normally strain, before the pressure around her eyeballs came into play and tears collected in her lids.

She blinked rapidly to let them flow.

At least this way she had something else to blame for her wrecked state, even if it would never hold up under scrutiny.

"Stupid D'Arvitting Mud Boy," she heard herself mutter, and she was almost horrified to hear her breath come in shudders, sharp intakes.

You know what? D'Arvit to this. D'Arvit to everything.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Holly craned her neck back against the armrest. More tears now. Her eyes stung and she was willing to bet they were turning red. Her voice was shakier, anerobic. "Thought you'd D'Arvitting die on me. You utter moron, you...you..."

There were words trembling under her lips but she couldn't utter any of them. Holly Short didn't normally have a problem with profanity where it was justified. But however much she wanted to say it, however much she had to, in this instance it just wasn't right.

"You idiot," she settled quietly, before turning uncomfortably on her side and burying her face in the rough, rugged fabric that was her sofa. It scratched at her face and caused enough friction to stop the tears in their steady flow. She would wake up to a red face in the morning. Damn sofa. Damn the coarse fabric, the insufferable stench...

Her nose twitched against the rough covers and realized that while the sofa had always been coarse and scratchy, it had never smelt this bad.

Groggily Holly pushed herself up on her elbows and frowned through her tears at the cushions. Her nose twitched again, on instinct. Her red eyes started to focus.

Cautiously she pushed herself up, back to her feet on the ground. The last of the tears were gone now. Her senses were on high alert. She darted glances in every direction of the room.

Holly noiselessly reached for the blaster still slung at her hip and seamlessly made her way across the small living room. There were only two other places besides- her bedroom, behind a door, and the pitiful kitchen that had been provided with the flat– she could hear noises now coming from one specific direction.

Guttural sounds, slurping, clanging. The intruder was giving up all discretion, and the various sounds were growing louder.

If it's a thief, Holly internally snorted. Pretty brilliant thief.

Deciding she wasn't going to bother with discretion either, she turned around the entrance of the kitchen and extended her blaster arm out in the direction of the fridge.

"Game's up," she declared unceremoniously.

The intruder, a dwarf whose back was covered completely under several layers of tunneling clothes, slowly pulled back from inside her fridge and balanced on the chair he was standing on. He took his sweet time finishing off a carton Holly had been meaning to get rid of because of its expiry, poured in the very last drop, and casually tossed the empty box aside onto an alarmingly large pile of empty boxes.

Holly glimpsed the unconcerned face of her intruder and audibly groaned.

"What the hell, Mulch?"

It was as nice as greetings went with your burglars.

Mulch hopped down from the chair, slamming the fridge shut behind him. He didn't look at all apologetic. He did look, Holly noticed with a mental eyebrow-raise, a little irate.

"You and I have some serious business to discuss," he jabbed a finger at her chest accusingly. "Would you prefer we discuss it in the kitchen, or...?"

"Who let you in? How did you get in?"

Mulch snorted, woefully unimpressed. "Your security code was obvious, darling. It's another matter we have to discuss, but later. There are more pressing things at present."

"Hence your unwelcome intrusion of my home," growled Holly. "To the living room. Take the floor."

The dwarf marched past her like one on parole and took his place on her creaky floorboards, following her with an unchallengeable stare as she also took a seat, on the sofa that already smelt like it couldn't be saved.

They stared each other down for what felt like centuries before Holly broke the stretch of silence icily.

"Well?"

Mulch guffawed. "Well what? What's up with you? Why haven't you called? Why aren't you seeing Foaly's kids? You have real crimes to answer to, officer."

Holly closed her eyes and prayed for patience. "I work for the LEP. I'm getting a promotion. I'm busy."

"I'm a dwarf. I'm always eating. But I find the time to stand up for you people, don't I?"

The elf shook her head, not opening her eyes because of the sudden strain these words put on her, the heart-wrenching memories they brought. "Don't," was all she managed to say.

"Don't what?" the dwarf insisted. "Bring it up? Ask you for reasons?"

"I have reasons," said Holly, opening her eyes to glare the other way. She couldn't trust herself to face him.

"I don't accept them," said Mulch. "The Holly Short I know is stronger than that."

Holly turned to face him sharply, her breath threatening to catch in her throat. He knew. And he was still in her flat asking stupid questions that wouldn't yield honest answers.

"Yeah, well," Holly said coldly. "That Holly Short didn't know loss."

Mulch sighed, shaking his head like she was being illogical. "No, she did. She'd lost everything."

Holly dropped her cold look. Her shoulders fell. "Not like this," she said quietly, looking over her shoulder, digging her chin into her fist and clenching her teeth against the way her cheeks stung with the tears that threatened to spill again.

"Holly, I know it feels like we've lost a friend," said Mulch calmly. "But there's no point mourning someone who's eventually going to come back."

"He's not coming back," snapped Holly, looking him dead in the eyes.

Mulch dragged his hands over his face. "There wouldn't be a Fronddamn clone growing in Foaly's basement if he wasn't!"

The elf was off the sofa now, standing directly before him and glowering. "The Fronddamn clone is not working!" she shouted. "Today...I was there today, and Foaly said that...the D'Arvitting brain isn't developing, and three vital organs are ruptured already, and the...the bloody thing isn't going to work!"

Mulch got to his own feet, but slowly. "Holly," he shook his head. "You've got to have more faith in them. Both of them. The plan is Artemis's and it's being carried out by Foaly. If those two aren't the two biggest nerds on this planet and under it, who would get it to work?"

Holly wiped off the tears like the annoying inconvenience that they were. Most part of her didn't want to accept those words, to keep shouting, to march into her bedroom and cry alone.

But she had done that too many nights already. She hadn't liked crying, but that was what she had done.

Mulch was proposing a different approach, something that he undoubtedly followed because it worked well enough for him. He didn't look like an addled, deranged wreck. Hell, he didn't look like he gave a damn about their mutual friend's death.

Because he doesn't know what's going wrong with the clone.

Because he trusts the plan.

Because Arty's plans always work. Somehow. Even at the last moment. But they still work.

"I hope you're right," said Holly simply.

"I'm always right," snorted Mulch, conjuring up a NutriBar slab he'd taken from the fridge earlier. "So do we have a deal? Will you quit acting like your Mud Man's not coming back?"

Holly didn't even have the energy to look annoyed, but it conveyed moderately in her voice. "First you quit breaking into my flat, Diggums."

"And you will see Eeta and Rein."

"And I will play with those brats," agreed Holly resignedly.

"And call me."

"I'll...okay. On and off."

Mulch nodded, satisfied with the deal. He turned to head for the door, but he paused momentarily as a thought occurred to him.

"If you ever hear bad news about the clone or anything," he offered carefully. "I'm available, you know. It's...easier with friends."

Holly pressed her lips tight together, but nodded. Just twice.

Mulch didn't linger for long, and closed the door behind him when he left, leaving her to her previous isolation.

A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. The biggest nerds on the planet were working on it. There would be blips, definitely, but was it going to fail?

No, she thought, and for a split second she saw the flash of a vampire grin that promised sweet, delectable victory. Never.

Do you trust me, Holly?

I do. More than anyone.

In her vision Artemis looked the smug, annoying brat he always was, but aged by the adventures past, beautiful.

Then trust that my plan is going to work.

"Alright, Mud Whelp," Holly relented, trying and failing to sound annoyed. "I'll take that approach."