AN: This is a series of drabbles (not unlike If), with one drabble for each member of the Endless. In that sense it can be seen as a crossover with The Sandman, but it does stand alone as well, although Titania and Death are from Sandman.The last drabble is leading up to my next fic, a Sandman crossover, but it may be some time before I manage to get started on that (uni reading lists!) Also, many thanks to my beta The Humble Mosquito.
Endlessly
Delirium
Angeline smiled.
She blinked back tears of joy as she saw her husband, as dashing as he ever was, on their wedding day.
"Oh, Timmy, I do love you," she murmured as she kissed him, crushing the roses between them.
He didn't kiss back, but it was hard to be responsive when you were filled with down-
"I love you too," he replied tenderly.
No, if you loved me you wouldn't have left; you wouldn't have died-
"Timmy, could you just do one thing for me?"
"Anything, my love." He smiled lovingly at her.
He almost never smiled, not since that job had taken over his soul-
"Would you stop work? We could just spend time together. We don't need to be the richest in Ireland. We don't need to be the most infamous in Ireland underground. But I do need a husband. Arty does need a father." She asked, a pleading note in her voice.
But didn't Arty come later?
"Anything for you, Angeline."
Bullshit. You could never abandon your work, not even for your family, not even for your life, damn you-
"I'm sorry for crying, dear. It must be because of how happy I am-"
"It must be," he replied gruffly.
--------------------------------------------
Despair
Despair begins when hope ends.
He limped to the bathroom. He had not been bound; after all, what use is there in securing a one legged prisoner? Artemis Fowl was not going to win any races in this condition. Besides, on the off chance that the cripple made it past the locked hatch, the probability of him surviving the biting Arctic cold was pretty gaunt.
At least those thugs had left him a razor. The former crimelord took a comfort in shaving. There was a certain calming quality to the action; anyway, he couldn't meet Angeline without shaving first. She disapproved thoroughly of facial hair.
He'd have to teach Arty how to shave soon, once he was free-
It was no use. Even the empty words he whispered to himself lacked any conviction. Even he did not believe salvation would come.
With one dead eye, he stared into the foggy mirror and started to shave.
For Artemis Fowl, hope had ended a long time ago.
--------------------------------
Desire
She wanted it.
She stared at the bottle. Desperately, she clawed at it, but the boy in front of her pulled it just out of her reach.
Dimly, she wondered what he wanted from her. Must be more than a simple ailment, but this thought was drowned up for the sheer longing for the whisky.
The Mud Men talked, but all she could hear was the song of the alcohol; the cry of the fine Irish whisky just beyond her reach. She almost wept with relief when the boy finally gave her the bottle. In her haste to get it open, she spilled some, but there was no time to worry about that now-
As the whisky trickled into her, she felt, good, more than good.
And she knew it didn't matter what he wanted. All that mattered was the bottle.
--------------------------------------
Destruction
Briar pressed the trigger.
The shot from the Rednose went right through Julius, and Briar smiled bleakly.
He fired again and again and again, and Julius went down. Briar had the latter part programmed into the old training video, for obvious reasons.
Destroying pixels. A hollow joy, an empty happiness.
But the real thing would come soon enough.
-----------------------------------
Dream
She dreamed.
She shouldn't be dreaming, but still, she dreamed.
She dreamt she was alive. She dreamt she could conquer her limitations.
She dreamt of sunlight, of the smell of freshly cut grass, of rain on her face, even though she couldn't possibly know what she was dreaming about.
She dreamt of love, and hope, and happiness.
She dreamt of hugs, and kisses, and making love.
She dreamt of death, and wondered, in her dreams, what came after.
She dreamt she was a real person. She dreamt she was alive.
She shouldn't be dreaming, but still, she dreamed.
Opal's clone dreamed.
----------------------------
Death
Butler stretched.
He felt light. Really light.
The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Good book, that was.
He glanced down, and his lightness was explained away, just like that.
"Oh," he mumbled. "I need to lose weight," he added critically, seeing his prostate body.
Well, at least Blunt was in worse shape than Artemis. Better shape than him, to be certain, but worse than Artemis. The principle was safe.
"Hello, Butler." The bodyguard looked up to see a beautiful girl, sitting on a table.
Butler smiled wryly. "I would have thought you of all people would know my real name."
"Butler is your real name," she said, somewhat sadly. "It's the name you think of when you think of yourself."
Butler laughed, ironically. "What happened to the robe and scythe, by the way? I had expected you to be more anachronistic," he said, moving on.
"These?" she asked, gesturing at her jeans and spaghetti strap. An Ankh hung around her neck, glimmering brightly. "I feel more comfortable in them. You know, I think you would have something better to discuss besides my fashion sense."
"Nothing really comes to mind." And then something did. "Is this a personal trip, or are you saving time? What I'm trying to say is-"
"Is this a two for one bargain? No, your principle is safe." She smiled. "For now."
"Can't complain, I guess. Shouldn't you be taking me somewhere by now?"
"Well, not yet. You're clinically dead, but you aren't brain dead."
"Okaaay. So I've got a while to wait. What's Artemis doing with that fish freezer?"
She sighed. "Looks like you got longer than we thought. So much for that lunch break." She looked out the window and muttered, "I hate cryogenics."
----------------------------------------
Destiny
Titania laughed.
"He will save the fey from the Mud Men," the soothsayer reiterated, as if by mere repetition Titania's disbelief would wash away.
"Him? A bastard elf, save the fey? He doesn't even have enough magic to put on his glamour. Get out, you old crone." Titania didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed.
"Say what you want, o Queen, but I know what the starmap says." The hag shuffled out of the throne room.
"She must be insane. Imagine, you, saving the faery?" She asked her handservant, laughing mockingly once more.
Frond said nothing, but continued to mop the floor.