A/N: Hi there, dear readers! Welcome to my eccentric little AF story. One day, it became clear to me that if I did not write this, literally no one else ever would. And God forbid I deprive the world of this ~masterpiece~. About hiccups... right.
In which I age all of the characters while more or less ignoring the events of TLG. Pretty unmistakably A/H, but they're not exactly the focus of the story.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Artemis Fowl series.
Enjoy! Constructive criticism is welcomed and appreciated.
Artemis Fowl: Unintentional Spasms of the Diaphragm
Fowl Manor, Ireland
Artemis Fowl II was developmentally advanced for a nine-year-old. By the age of two, he had begun talking in complete, not to mention eloquent, sentences. By age seven, he had received his high school diploma - although he would argue that he had not truly completed his high school studies until he was seven and a half, when he rectified the gaping holes that his quantum physics tutor had unfortunately left in his education. And at age nine, he was currently in the process of revising his senior thesis, to earn his B.S. in Psychology.
In these respects, Artemis was certainly advanced. However, there are some adolescent challenges that cannot be avoided no matter how educated the child. Literal growing pains that even a nine-year-old savant could not anticipate... such as unintentional spasms of the diaphragm.
Also known as hiccups.
That afternoon, Artemis sat in front of his MacBook, skillfully putting the finishing touches on his thesis. He sipped from his bottle of mineral water as he contemplated whether to use the term 'Broca's area,' or the more basic 'cerebral cortex' - he did not want to risk confusing his professor by using a word that was beyond the man's vocabulary.
It is clear that Professor Pincer's own 'Broca's area' has been severely damaged, thought Artemis. The boy's customary scowl was briefly relieved as he chuckled at his joke.
A moment after chuckling, Artemis felt a sharp seizing in his stomach, as a high-pitched sound escaped from his lips. As quickly as it had begun, the spasm ended.
Even with all of his medical knowledge, Artemis had never encountered a sensation quite like this. It was very disturbing.
Hue-up!
There it was again! The clenched feeling left Artemis completely breathless. He was paralyzed, unaccustomed to this internal threat.
This phenomenon had never been mentioned in any of his anatomical textbooks; he'd never even seen it mentioned in a civilian medical journal. Could this be the first stage of some catastrophic illness?
I suppose it's terribly unlikely to have a stroke at nine years old, he thought.
This thought was formulated exactly as a third involuntary gasp was knocked out of the boy's mouth.
In the throes of horror, Artemis frantically smacked various spots on his desk, searching for a walkie-talkie. When he located the item, he grabbed it and quickly pressed the TRANSMIT button.
With the first beep of his walkie-talkie, Butler jumped off the couch to his feet and pressed the RECEIVE button. In hindsight, jumping to his feet was not entirely necessary. But it was best to be prepared.
"Butler, you are needed in my study at once." His principal's icy tone sounded more agitated than usual. "I believe I am having a medical emergency."
The bodyguard willingly abandoned the Samurai swords he had been polishing and bounded up the Manor staircase. Even though he was only nine years old, Master Artemis was not one to exaggerate; if he was claiming peril, Butler could be certain the boy was not crying wolf.
I'm surprised he couldn't handle a medical emergency by himself, he thought. He probably knows more about medical practices than some of the best Irish doctors. Not knowing how extreme his principal's treatment would need to be, Butler stopped at the closet to retrieve a first-aid kit, an AED set, and a Sig Sauer rifle. (One never knows when a gun will be useful.)
Butler approached the study's door and knocked. "Artemis, can I come in?"
The only muffled response the bodyguard received was a high-pitched gasping sound, followed by some incoherent, panicked muttering.
Butler braced himself for the worst and pushed open the door.
"Butler, I be-lieve my imm-une system is un-der attack," said Artemis, every other word being interrupted by a sharp inhalation. "Is it possible that one of father's enemies has spiked my mineral water with some fatal substance?"
The boy tried to stay calm in between the irregular spasms, but his tensed features betrayed how terrified he actually was. Butler, however, immediately relaxed upon seeing Artemis's "symptoms."
"The only thing it's been spiked with is carbonation, like any mineral water," said Butler. "You've got the hiccups, Artemis."
"Hiccups? What a juvenile name," said Artemis incredulously, followed by another hiccup. "Is this a serious condition?" His voice was not as calm and collected as usual.
Butler was not used to having to explain things to his charge. Usually, Artemis would've already known whatever the bodyguard had to tell him, and he would've been able to present a counter-argument. In a foreign language, too.
But it turned out that even the most educated nine-year-old had to be ignorant about something.
"It's not serious at all, you're just sucking in air quickly as your diaphragm contracts," said Butler. "You've really never had the hiccups before?"
"Never." Yet another hiccup wracked the boy's body. "And you're sure this isn't indicative of a larger problem?"
Butler had never seen Artemis look so weak and frazzled... which made this whole situation seem a bit melodramatic. These were hiccups, after all. "Nope, just hiccups. They generally come from drinking something carbonated. A sudden change in your temperament, or mood."
Artemis's brow furrowed, his eyes seeming to search the Persian rug in front of him for an explanation. "I fear I know what caused this ailment," he said solemnly, for only Artemis would solemnly call hiccups an ailment. "A few minutes ago, I made a joke to myself... it was very clinical and scathing, but it did make me laugh aloud for a moment. I haven't had such a sudden change of mood in years."
"I'm sure."
Artemis's eyes flickered away from the rug as he hiccuped again. Mortified, he quickly reassumed his usual impassive disposition and turned back to Butler. "Well, proceed with whatever treatment plan you have ready. I am anxious to be done with this ordeal."
Butler fought the urge to roll his eyes.
Over the next five minutes, Butler diligently attempted to "cure" Artemis's "ailment." His "treatment plan" included having Artemis hold his breath; drink water through a straw while bending over; and breathe into a paper bag.
It should be noted that while Butler was of course trained in advanced first aid and some forms of field medicine, treatments for the hiccups were not exactly his area of expertise. So he'd had to improvise.
Unfortunately, each of these remedies was still shortly followed by another bout of hiccups. The last one was strong enough to actually force Artemis back an inch in his chair.
Shock sharpened the boy's scowl. "How cumbersome. I would've expected something that forceful to stop the muscle spasms."
An idea sparked in Butler's head. He stayed still for a moment, waiting for Artemis to become sufficiently preoccupied in thought.
Without warning, Butler sprang forward with some sort of battle cry. He landed a few inches from Artemis.
The boy fell out of his chair and landed in a weary heap on the floor. "Oh, you're very funny, Butler." He sounded positively jaded for a nine-year-old.
But the bodyguard did not respond just yet. Both of them waited in silence, looking at each other.
After a few minutes, Artemis's tensed shoulders relaxed, and Butler released a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The hiccups had not returned.
"Good work, Butler," said Artemis, brushing a dust-bunny off of his slacks. Butler held out a hand and pulled the boy back to his feet. "I knew those previous treatments were merely a ruse. You were trying to distract me, all the while working towards a somewhat unorthodox solution."
"Right, sir," said Butler, even though Artemis was not.
The boy nodded to dismiss Butler, then he sat back down at his desk.
Butler left the study, sighing as he closed the door behind him. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked down the hallway.
From that day on, he took Master Artemis's "emergencies" a little less seriously. After all, although the boy was a prodigy in almost every way, in some ways he was just a regular nine-year-old.
Shaken, Artemis returned to his writing.
He was making good progress on the thesis so far - for starters, he was a good ten years ahead of anyone his age, academically. Therefore, he decided that he had time to weave in a little joke for Professor Pincer. A form of payback for indirectly causing his hiccups, if you will.
Now, of course, the joke was far too psychologically complex to be explained within the scope of this tale. It involved an anagram for the words 'cerebral cortex,' leading to a word search across the prose (only effective when printed in Times New Roman font, 12-pt); the answer would turn out to be a surprise Freudian slip.
In other words, Professor Pincer had no chance of ever noticing the complicated series of gibes. But this only added to Artemis's self-satisfaction. He leaned back in his chair and could not help but laugh deviously.
He suddenly paled, remembering his most recent run-in with danger. Oh no.
He forced himself to slow his breathing and sit completely still. He waited in silence, dreading the possible return of those blasted hiccups.
After a few agonizing minutes in which nothing particularly interesting happened, Artemis relaxed once again.
"Honestly, you are behaving absurdly," he chided himself, as he resumed typing as normal. And then.
...
Hue-up!
Artemis frantically shut down his computer and abandoned the study. He walked a little too quickly down the hallway, resolving to not continue writing until he had discovered a reliable cure for these hiccups. Obviously, working on his thesis was making him far too emotionally erratic.
Butler tried to hide his amusement when he saw Artemis speed-walking down the hallway, practically fleeing towards his bedroom.
The Short Residence, Haven City
Hue-up!
Nine-year-old Holly Short scowled at the light spasm she'd just felt in her stomach. And the popping sound that had accompanied it.
She looked positively perturbed as she turned to the elf who sat across the table from her. "Mom, what on earth was that?"
Coral Short didn't look up from reading Haven Today. "They're called hiccups. They'll go away in a minute or two."
"Ah," said Holly, her brow un-furrowing. Nothing to worry about, then.
Hue-up!
"Oh, they're so annoying, Mom."
"Yes," said Coral. "Yes, they are."
Fowl Manor, Ireland
Through the years, Artemis Fowl II had faced certain death many times. Goblins, Russian crimelords, demons, crazed pixies - not to mention puberty. He had grown up amidst danger and adventure, and near-death experiences had become almost regular to the man. There was very little that could shake his confidence.
However, the 26-year-old was sure he had met his match when he heard his infant daughter making a familiar, terrifying sound.
This sound could only be linked with unintentional spasms of the diaphragm... also known as hiccups. Of course.
Artemis's eyes widened, and he felt his pulse quickening. Oh no. Not this again. Give me Opal, Kronkski, even little Artemis. But not this.
He tentatively picked up the child out of her crib as she continued to hiccup. She seemed thoroughly unconcerned, in contrast to her panicked father.
"Come now, let's stop this, Coral," he said, patting her back even as he trembled. This was by far the worst of his adolescent memories that could've come back to haunt him... and if you'll remember for a moment who we're talking about, that was saying something.
He attempted to both pat the hiccups out of her and talk the hiccups out of existence by speaking persuasively to them. The man was becoming increasingly worried; he was as close to hyperventilating as an otherwise stoic Fowl man could get.
"Holly!" he called tersely out of the open door. "Please come quickly, Holly!"
A few moments later, Holly came bounding into the nursery. "What's going on?" she said. A calm expression painted unconvincingly on his face, Artemis turned to display the hiccuping child to Holly. Coral's blue eyes squinted in happiness when she saw her mother.
"It appears that she has caught the hiccups," said Artemis, alarm seeping into his voice. "I... I don't know what to do."
Now, with their mocha-tinted skin and strong noses, Holly and Coral generally looked very similar. However, when both mother and daughter narrowed their eyes at Artemis at exactly the same moment, they had never seemed so identical.
"Okay, give her to me," said Holly in exasperation. Artemis handed the baby over, almost relieved to put a bit of distance between himself and the hiccups.
Holly rocked Coral gently. She was altogether more concerned by her husband's behavior than her infant daughter's. "Calm down, Artemis, they're just hiccups. They'll go away in a minute or two."
"Yes, sometimes." Artemis shuddered. "But if they continue, it could be a sign of cardiovascular problems, or the beginnings of a stroke."
"She's two months old, she's not having a stroke!"
"The research doesn't lie, Holly." Artemis sat down, already lost in his own summary of the situation. "I've never felt so powerless as when I'm faced with these damned hiccups... which is irrational, I know. For me, advanced medical problems or complicated ailments are easy to tackle; the answer is always in the textbook, I can out-think the problem. But hiccups... they're elusive. No 'remedy' ever worked when I was a child. There's no reliable or logical way to stop them. For God's sake, they were never even mentioned in my textbooks. It's paralyzing, in a way."
Holly walked to Artemis's chair. "Mudboy, look at me," she said (because some habits never die). She cupped his cheek with her free hand, forcing him out of his bleak stupor. "Coral is fine. Hiccups are not usually deadly. Those are much better odds than we've dealt with in the past, at any rate."
Artemis met her gaze. He saw one of his own eyes reflected back at him, stretched wide with concern. He smiled begrudgingly at her. "Very well. Trading in your captain's rank for a doctor's, are you?"
"Well, I'd say I've earned it, after all the times I've healed your hide," said Holly, smirking.
"I can't argue with that," said Artemis, standing up with a bit more resolve. "Well, /Doctor/ Short, what do you propose we do then?"
"Nothing." Holly shrugged as Coral hiccuped against her chest. "They're awfully annoying, but you just have to wait them out."
"Unnerving is more like it." Artemis pursed his lips after Coral let out a particularly sharp hiccup. "But if you think it's the best course of action, then we will wait. I am a patient man, after all."
"Right."
"Don't think I didn't see that eye-roll, Captain."
"That's Doctor to you, Mudboy."
Hue-up!
Artemis and Holly waited for several agonizing minutes, the only noise in the room being Coral's steady hiccuping breaths.
"Why hasn't she stopped yet?" asked Artemis.
"I don't know," said Holly, heaving a sigh. "She's still not going to have a stroke, if that's what you're thinking."
Artemis pinched at the fabric of his pant leg. "I can hardly stand it any longer... that sound."
"That's something we can agree on," groaned Holly. "Ever since I was little, I've always hated that hiccuping sound..."
There was a long pause in which husband and wife looked at each other.
They both reached for the intercom button at the same exact moment.
When Butler had first been hired by the Fowls, his number one mission in life had become to protect Artemis. Naturally, his number two mission had been to fulfill his duties while remaining completely respectful and unreadable. However, one can fight only so many trolls, pixies, demons, and/or possessed crickets before they start to approach their job with a bit more humor.
And so, when Butler entered the nursery just as Coral miraculously stopped hiccuping, his deep, bellowing laughter seemed to make the entire manor vibrate.
Artemis paced the nursery, gesticulating tensely. "Butler, you don't understand. Coral has been hiccuping for what's felt like an eternity-"
"It was actually more like two minutes," said Holly sheepishly. She held the now normally-breathing Coral.
"-but as soon as you entered the room, she stopped. It's really quite peculiar, when you think about it."
"I see," said Butler, wiping his eyes that were now watery from laughing. After 26 years of looking after Artemis, it was becoming increasingly difficult to treat his every whim with the utmost gravity.
"Do you not believe me, Butler?" Artemis looked altogether too panicked, as a man who was standing in a nursery with his non-hiccuping child, of all things.
"I do," said Butler. "It's not an abnormal phenomenon for a baby to have the hiccups and then stop after a few minutes."
"But why does it happen?" demanded Artemis.
Butler shrugged. "I've tried to tell you before, Artemis, there is no 'why'. Hiccups aren't that complicated. You're overthinking it."
"Perhaps you're right," said Artemis. "But there should be a 'why'. A problem I can solve. Or else... well, what good am I to Coral?"
"Arty, you won't be able to figure out everything for Coral," said Holly. "That's apart of growing up; Frond knows you never needed your parents to solve problems for you... you were able to figure out the world for yourself, more or less. And so can Coral. Your job is to just roll with the punches."
"Honestly, Holly, did you just forget to whom you're speaking?" interjected Artemis, briefly coming out of his turmoil to smirk. "I have no desire to do anything involving punches, as those situations do not generally favor me."
"Ah, there's the self-satisfied mudboy I married." Holly smiled in spite of herself. "Maybe you won't be taking any punches for Coral, but other than that, you're willing to do almost anything for her. That's the best that any of us can do."
"And you know all of this, how? Not taking into account any secret children you may be hiding from me, you're also a first-time parent."
Holly rolled her eyes. "Call it a 94-year-old woman's maternal instinct."
"Holly is right, though," said Butler, laying a hand on Artemis's shoulder. "And before you say that I've never been a parent either, remember that I've spent a significant portion of my life parenting you."
Artemis smiled. "I can't argue with that logic, I suppose."
"You know," said Holly, "you were no upstanding citizen when I met you. At least we don't need to worry about keeping Coral on the straight and narrow."
"Give it time," said Artemis. "Half of her DNA may be from you, but the other half is still from me."
Holly shifted Coral to one arm, so that she could punch Artemis lightly on the shoulder. "Frond help us all, then."
Holly turned to Butler and passed Coral into his arms. "To put someone at ease-" she looked pointedly at Artemis, but there was no force behind the look, "-maybe you could take a look at Coral for a moment," said Holly. "I'd better get Arty out of here before he succumbs to the hiccups virus."
"Don't even joke about that," said Artemis, deadpan. He took Holly's outstretched hand in his own, and she led him out of the nursery.
The door clicked shut, leaving Butler cradling Coral in his arms. One second passed, and then another bout of hiccups came out of Coral's lips.
"Thank goodness Artemis isn't here to see this," said Butler, gently rocking the baby. "There just isn't a rhyme or reason to this sort of thing, is there?"
Then Butler saw a cluster of blue sparks suddenly light up at the base of Coral's throat. The sparks dissipated after a moment, and she hiccuped no more.
Butler stared at the baby, dumbfounded. "Did you just do what I think you did?"
Coral smiled up at him, her blue eyes glinting mischievously - positively too mischievously for an infant. He could've sworn that her tiny upper lip curled into a smirk, too.
In that moment, Butler could not decide if Coral was more like her father or her mother. But in any case, she was most definitely the child of her parents.
End