Hey guys. This oneshot came randomly to me as I was reading Phantom (Susan Kay) for about the 400th time (amazing book, I highly recommend it). It's been sitting on my computer for awhile and I've been debating posting it but I decided that I have nothing to lose by posting it. I tried very hard to get Trouble in character though I'm not exactly sure that I did it right. Sorry if the absence of dialogue in the beginning takes away from the story, when I tried to put it in, it made that story sound choppy. I hope that you guys like it! Constructive criticism is (of course) welcome. Please review!
Disclaimer: No, I do not own Artemis Fowl because if I did, I would not have a 100 year old computer, I would be driving a much nicer car, and I would be able to afford another ITunes card...since none of those things apply to me, we can intelligently deduce that I do not own Artemis Fowl.
I had been ecstatic when she told me, almost fifty years ago, that I was going to be a daddy. I remember everything about that day; her red checkered dress, her hazel and blue eyes filling with tears, the rapturous smiles we shared, my foolish announcement to the entire workforce that I, the commander of the LEP, was having a child with best wife under the world; I remember all of it. We, of course, were congratulated more than necessary, but she loved the positive attention for something that made her happy as opposed to what she usually got from the LEP. For something that made us both happy. It was good to see her smile for the first time since…
I cheerfully took the rest of the day off, ordered the best Chinese food under the earth, and instructed one of the lower ranking officers to go out and buy the oldest bottle of wine he found. I remember getting home that evening after a wonderful afternoon with her, to our tiny apartment, with our mismatched furniture, and asking her if it really true. She had nodded; her face was radiant with, what I could only perceive, as pure delight to the greatest degree, for she looked almost sad as she nodded. But of course, I thought I was only imaging it.
Looking back, I know that I should have seen something in her eyes all those months, something that told me that all was not well. Of course I knew that she was hurt, but I didn't think it ran that deep. Maybe I did sense that something was amiss, and I blocked it from my mind because maybe…just maybe I knew all along.
Our marriage wasn't the easiest thing in the beginning. Even dating her was harder than was expected. After those first couple months of blissful infatuation, flowers, chocolates, and late night dinners with candles, she got agitated with me. It all began one night, after an exceptionally romantic dinner at S'est Levé, one of those uptown, fancy restaurants that only take reservations. We had gone back to her apartment to spend some much needed time alone together, and it was then, with her safely in my arms, that I brought up the topic of marriage. Her eyes, which had been lazily closed, snapped open, and she turned to gape at me with those mismatched eyes of hers. I hadn't understood her reaction at the time; after all, everything was going smoothly between us up until that point. I asked her what was wrong, but she just shook her head and told me it was time for me to leave. By the next day, she was pleasant and personable again, like nothing happened, like nothing was wrong between us. I made the mistake of blowing the whole thing off as one of those "girl things" that me and the guys at work had always joked about.
That was the first weekend she got a weekend visa to the surface.
I was suspicious at first, wanting to spend time with that Mudboy just wasn't like her, especially after he lied to her so many years ago. When I demanded an explanation for her behavior, she just calmly told me that she missed his friendship. So that's what I thought it was: friendship. Frond, how could I have been so blind?
Every single weekend she left me for him…no more late night talks, no more dinners, no more movies or dates. I was losing her with each shuttle departure and I knew it, yet I did nothing. She left every Friday just after work, and she always returned at seven on Sunday night. I tried to act as if I didn't notice; I tried to act as if I didn't care. I tried to lie to myself, and to her, that I was oblivious to what was going on. But I wasn't…I'm a trained LEP officer after all. I was trained not to miss small details such as her wearing perfume that I had not gotten her, or the flowers from that anonymous sender she received on her holidays, or the fact that she always looked happy to leave my arms for the earth's fresh air and all that it had to offer.
It was like I was dating him, not her. She talked constantly about him and never seemed to want to talk about anything else. It was always Mudboy this and Mudboy that; I had to force myself more than once to keep my temper in check when she spoke of him. I was even reminded of him every time I looked at her. That damn icy, blue eye which contrasted so deeply with her hazel one, was always regarding me with that penetrating look. It was as if he were looking at me and not her. He was taking over my life as well as hers.
On the seldom occasion that we did talk alone, she always had a distant look in her eyes and sometimes forgot that she was even having a conversation. A few times, however, if I got her talking on the right topics, she would get that fiery look in her eyes and argue like the devil about which laws were unnecessary or whether or not shuttle travel should be more restricted. The passion that she showed for the things she cared about was almost uncanny. During those few precious moments, her smile was never far from her lips. It was during those rare conversations that I was reminded exactly why I loved her. But those discussions always ended in those half-hearted embraces that I feared so much. It's funny how a man can fear rejection much more than a band of bloodthirsty trolls when given the choice, funny how three simple words that are supposed to make you happy, can kill you more effectively than any gun.
Blissful hours of night were my only relief, because in my dreams she loved me and me alone. We were married and had children of our own; we were happy. Humans didn't even exist in my dreams. It was just me and my beautiful wife, living the simplest of lives, far from the eyes of the world. When I awoke in the mornings to the melancholy air of my house, my heart sank, and I resolved myself to face another day, wearing that mask that I swore I was going to take off one day…one day.
It finally got to me; I finally got sick of this inexcusable behavior, this coming and going, this on and off relationship, but most of all I was sick of being second. That Sunday night when she got home, later than usual, I was there waiting. She was humming softly to herself a tune I didn't recognize, and at that moment I almost lost my nerve. It was one thing to plan something like this out in your head and another to actually do it. She stopped suddenly, sensing rather than seeing someone in her house waiting for her. Turning on the light, she faced me, looking as though she knew what I was going to say. Even now, I can still see the silent tears rolling down her face as I ranted and raved at her.
My temper got the best of me as I called her every name in the book, yelling and cursing like a madman. She flinched when I started threatening the Mudboy's life if she ever went to see him again. She took it all without a word, and that killed me more than what she had done to me. It made me feel guilty though I knew she was the one who should be feeling guilty, not me. She looked at me, for once, more fragile than glass, as though one more word would shatter her spirit and brutally murder her soul. We stood in silence for moments on end after I had finished. Her in tears and me close to them. Very slowly she moved towards me and, holding out her hand as though to shake mine, she said in a very small voice that she loved me more than she loved him and if the only way to prove that love to me was to marry me, so be it.
The offer took me by surprise. I knew it was her way of apologizing and offering to make it up to me. I knew that she was offering to spend her whole life with me, never to leave my side. That, in my book, was better than any apology. At that moment, my anger disappeared as did any resentment I had towards her and for once, I had a feeling that everything was going to be all right.
After that night, she spent every weekend with me. Every moment of her spare time was spent in a fierce quest to show me that I was everything to her. It was undeniable at that point who had won the fight for her heart. Victory was sweet.
As the wedding day approached (it approached very quickly as she had wanted a short engagement period), my doubt vanished like a candle that had been doused in icy water. So when she asked me, in a timid voice, whether or not she could invite the Mudboy to our wedding, I approved it without a second thought; it would make her happy which was the most important thing at that point. She was gone for the whole day to invite him in person, and I, without even meaning to, started to worry. I had once been told that old habits die hard though I hoped beyond hope that this was not the case. I almost sighed in relief when she came home to me that night, back to me, back to our life.
The day before the wedding I came over to her tiny apartment and found her crying her eyes out on the floor of her bedroom. I gathered her up in my arms and asked her what was wrong, but she just spluttered something out about cold feet. I sat holding her for many minutes, savoring the moment that I hoped would last a lifetime. She finally looked up, smiling at me, and said she wanted to go take a shower before our lunch date. I let her go and started to head towards the living room but stopped as something caught my eye; right where I had found her, on the floor, was a picture of that Mudboy.
I tried to convince myself it was normal for her to have doubts, normal for her to be scared, but this was…too much. I almost lost her once; I was not going to go through that again. I promised myself that if that Mudboy so much as touched her one more time, he would have me to answer to.
Our wedding was a glorious affair. Half the town turned up to view the LEP commander and the LEP's best officer tie the knot. I was more nervous than I had been at my induction ceremony. My hands were shaking as I checked for the hundredth time that I had the ring and that my military uniform wasn't creasing. I wanted everything to be perfect for her; wanted to show him how perfect we were together.
Oh yes, he was there; that Mudboy. He and his bodyguard slipped in later than most and sat down in the second row on the bride's side. The Mudboy looked at me briefly and our eyes met. My heart fell as I saw a hazel eye where a blue one had once been, but I smiled politely anyway and he nodded in my direction before turning to speak in hushed tones to his bodyguard.
I had been so deep in thought about him that I missed the first half of the ceremony, only coming to when Holly walked down the aisle. She looked beautiful in her simple ivory dress, smiling at me with an almost childlike wonder. The ceremony went fast, and before I knew it, I was instructed to kiss the bride which I willingly did. As the priest pronounced us to the congregation, they all stood up to cheer, and I led my new wife down the aisle. I couldn't help but notice that she looked back once to share a meaningful look with the Mudboy. I didn't let it bother me too much because at last, she was mine.
The last month of happiness in my life passed faster than I could have imagined. Being married to Holly was as demanding as it was rewarding. I never realized just how much she needed emotionally, but in return I received a fierce devotion that was incomparable to anything I had ever experienced before. I was happy, I think we both were. That first month was pure bliss and, I for one, thought that it wouldn't end until we took our dying breaths.
It's almost funny how wrong a person can be sometimes.
We got the news in an unexpected fashion. It was in the newspaper even before the LEP was alerted. The Mudboy, that stupid, godforsaken Mudboy was killed by a trained assassin. According to the article, he was cornered in his home and shot three times in the stomach and once, the fatal shot, directly between his mismatched eyes. No will was found, and there was likely to be none…no human could read a will that gave everything to a fairy…
The only thing that escaped her mouth was a small moan when she read it. I could see that she was trying to pretend it didn't matter as much as it really did for my sake, and it hurt me to see her try so hard. She closed her eyes and shook her head, pressing her hand to her mouth as if making sure she didn't sob aloud. She turned away from me, but I could still see her shoulders hitching with silent sobs. I slowly stood up then wrapped my arms around her, wiping away her tears. But I could tell, as she buried her face in my chest that she wished I wasn't the one holding her...
There was nothing I could do for her but hold her while she cried. For days on end she would just cry, almost without stopping. We both took off work. I was afraid that she was going to make herself sick, and I even consulted a doctor, but he said that the crying would run its course. It wasn't just the crying that worried me; her eyes constantly possessed a dead look…like she would never be happy again.
It finally got to the point where I had to go back to work to keep my employment and that first day that I was back in the office was the day she told me she was pregnant. I honestly couldn't believe it! Finally there was a light at the end of the tunnel for both of us. But there was also something else to my happiness. Finally this was something I could give her that that Mudboy could never give her. Even in death he haunted her, but now, with our little bundle of joy on the way, maybe she would forget about him. It was selfish of me to think such things and I knew it.
Nine months passed without much incident. I don't think I stopped smiling throughout the whole pregnancy. With every sonogram, with each heartbeat, with every kick, I could just feel the delight and pride welling up inside of me. She had to be put on bed rest for the last month as the baby was a little bigger than normal fairy babies were, but that didn't matter. Our baby was going to be perfect, and our baby was going to be ours forever.
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"I'm sorry Commander Kelp, but I regret to inform you that your wife passed during the operation." The doctor said he was sorry as though it helped anything. Of course it didn't. I nodded, not feeling awake, and shooed him off with my hands. He looked at me with sympathy but left without another word; he had seen this reaction too many times.
She was gone; Holly. The only person under the world who I didn't want to lose again, was taken away from me forever.
It all started more than a year ago: heart problems, the kind that magic couldn't fix. Treatments didn't work and neither did her medication. She went into the operation knowing that she might never come out, but it was a chance she was willing to take.
50 years of marriage was far too short of a time with her. I look back on all those times that I could have been there but found excuses not to. All those times I had avoided home, as if by avoidance I could make it all disappear. Of course I wasn't avoiding her, but I couldn't avoid my problems and be with her at the same time and, sadly, I had not chosen the latter. I just didn't want to see or know…I just didn't want to remember.
A gentle hand grasped my elbow and led me down the hall of the hospital like I was a blind man. I looked up to into the face of my only son. It should bug me that he was nearly a half foot taller than me but I'm not usually the vain type.
"Come on Dad." He said quietly, in that gentle melancholy voice of his. He wasn't crying, of course. He always had a special talent for showing no emotion. Even as a child he rarely ever cried, much to mine and Holly's relief. He was unusually intelligent for his age of fifty. He already had aspirations to take over the job of LEPrecon Commander from me. I thought he would be much more suited to work with Foaly in the OPS booth, but Holly had thrown me a dirty look when I mentioned it to him. She was always so protective of his feelings but I guess every mother is. Her devotion to him was only rivaled to her dedication to our marriage. She quit her job when I became obsessed with mine. I begged her not to quit the thing she loved so much, but she replied stubbornly that the only things she loved were me and her son. She always had a way with words to get me to do anything she wanted. However, not in the bad way; she never asked for anything for herself, just things for her son.
The relationship with my son was rocky, right from the beginning. We always disagreed on everything; from politics to laws, to the best flavor of cake. Holly always took his side during the arguments, but I didn't care. She just wanted to encourage the kid that he could do anything he wanted to which, I guess, was a good thing. It was one of the countless reasons that I loved her. But I couldn't help but wonder sometimes…
"Dad?" I looked up at him and tried to smile, but it turned out to be more of a grimace than anything else. I hadn't realized that he had placed me in one of those folding hospital chairs. I wasn't really noticing anything at all. My head fell into my hands, and I breathed deeply, trying to get a grip.
"Dad, Mom said that if she didn't make it, that I should take care of you, and I just wanted you to know that I promise to."
"I'm the Commander of the LEP," I said in that gruff voice I always used with him (which was hard to pull off as I was fighting off impending tears). "I can take care of myself."
"I don't think that's what she meant Dad." He said softly. Dad…only childlike innocence prevented him from calling me anything different. But he was a smart boy; he would figure it out someday, just as I did thirty-five years ago. Or perhaps, as Holly wanted, he would never find out, and he would carry on the Kelp family line just as he was expected to do by society. Perhaps if he was to ever become Commander, the paper headlines will read Newly Instated Commander Kelp Starts a Dynasty. Maybe he would never know the true reasons for my ongoing irritation towards him or my snappy remarks about everything he said. One could only hope…
"Dad?"
"Yes, Artemis?" I looked him directly in the eyes and used his name just as his father would have done, even if it did hurt me to do so.
"Promise me that you'll let me look after you. Let me keep Mom's promise." And as I looked into his icy blue eyes and face that neither resembled mine nor Holly's, my throat closed up as I realized that the one thing was true that I never thought I would ever accept. He was still my son no matter what, and I couldn't help but forgive him for the past he didn't even know he had; for the father that he had never even met. I couldn't help but love him. And I couldn't help but think that his father would be proud of both of us.
"Yes, my son, I promise."