I found myself reading the released first chapter to Book 7: The Atlantis Complex and I'm not sure what to think about it. I found myself on LiveJournal not long after ranting about it but I know for sure that with this new path Colfer is taking, nothing will be the same in regards to fanfics written about the book. From what I have read and I foresee, this new direction is pretty loaded and in order to keep the original context in which the book is written, certain things will have to be changed in fanfic writing.

So for now, between today and the book release, I'll write my fill of the first 6 books and put them on fanfiction and LiveJournal.

Enough of my chatting.

Summary: It was amazing just what they put in the mud man tabloids and the garbage the People chose to believe written in them about her and Artemis. Even if they were true. But he was right... That was a rather nice picture of her. Artemis/Holly

Title: Tabloid Fodder

By Aleauxvander B.D

If the People were to follow everything the mud men tabloids in socialite Dublin said, they would have crowned Fowl the hero of the meek and Ireland's resident philanthropist long ago.

But once bitten twice shy had them more aware of Artemis Fowl's true nature than his own mud man species did. Like the journalists who wrote the nonsense in those magazines, most things were left up to guess work. Fowl was as closed mouth about his private life, or his life that wasn't strategically put on display, as he was about his private research. But one thing was a certainty; there were few things he gave selflessly and even those came with an unsaid silent clause of Equivalent Exchange.

He gave expecting to receive.

But for all the tabloid garbage that made up the mud man magazine, they were still imported in copious amounts to sit in every news stand across the Lower Elements.

And the same race who scorned the mud men and looked down on their backward barbaric ways read them avidly. They downloaded them in pod casts, audio books, had them on their personal readers while going about their daily life. As much as mud men and women alike devoured them, so did the People.

It all boiled down to what they said; the content of each article on Artemis and his secretive, enigmatic ways. Without stating that they had never had an actual interview with the famed Artemis Fowl, there was little to be done to prove that what was said couldn't be considered the gospel.

They were mostly rumours. Or so the grapevine said.

Rumours or no, these things usually had a grain of truth in them. And the most recent propaganda to hit Dublin was the esteemed, wealthy, brilliant bachelor of the Top Brass was off the market, so to speak.

Words were nothing, the magazine said on the 16th page centrefold, when physical proof was louder.

Holly scoffed, tilting the magazine to get a better look at the photograph. Mud man technology was archaic at best and the resolution was paltry in comparison to what technology the People developed within a day, but what it lacked in comparative quality it made up in clarity.

Sure enough, Artemis Fowl was there, dressed nicely as always in dark suit and tie, with a high collared full length coat, a scarf and gloves against the cold. His hair was everywhere, as most things in the picture, being thrown about by the biting wind. And while Fowl was distractingly attractive enough to draw any person's attention away from whatever else was in the photo, the young woman he was with was strangely familiar.

No denying it, Holly could recognize her stature, however altered, anywhere.

Bright auburn hair, dark beautiful skin, but her face wasn't visible. She was looking up in his direction, which was a bit of a stretch higher than her and he had a ridiculous smile on his face.

…I am sure many women would agree that the day Artemis Fowl II looked at them that way…she has never been seen before…only one photograph which is hardly telling but…she is exquisite, but then again, anything that Artemis Fowl touches turns to gold…

Anything he touches turns to gold, my ass she mused. Anything gold he touches disappears…

Holly rolled her eyes and closed the magazine with little interest and returned it on the stand, picking up a physical copy of People's Time (much to Foaly's daily chagrin) and reached for change in her pocket.

The owner of the stand and all 15 or so patrons around it stared at her expectantly. It didn't take a genius of Fowl's caliber to guess their thought pattern and it was ridiculous. The woman in the picture was too tall, too fair, her hair too long to be Holly. If they were paying Foaly so much damned money daily, it shouldn't look like her.

She didn't need to bustle her way through. She had LEP written all over her even in civilian clothing , some thought, and besides, if they pissed her off too much, Fowl would probably swoop in with an army of genius mud men and it would be Armageddon.

The crowd moved easily for her and she went to pay for the newspaper

"Mornin' Major." Henley said with a toothless grin.

"Good morning, Henley." She said handing him the money. The silence continued and no one move. Henley blinked down at her from his stool behind the high counter of the stand and continued to smile irritatingly. Holly figured she wouldn't receive her few cents of change until she said something.

"Can I have my change back?" She asked politely.

"Sures you can!" he said reaching for the coins. Either his missing tooth had given him a speech impediment or he was trying his best to irritate her "its 'bout the same amount for that mud man magazine there." He said with a smile.

How tactful, Holly thought. He had as much diplomacy as a bull.

"I don't want a tabloid, Henley. I want my change. To put towards my coffee." She smiled unnervingly at him. The patrons shuffled uncomfortably and stepped back. The select few with self preservation fled.

"Please?"

Henley stepped down off the platform from which he sold, went around her and she followed him with her eyes, turning as he took up the magazine.

"Here." He said giving her the change and the magazine "you come here most every day. A magazine on me."

So that you can start the rumour mills going on the identity of the red head, Holly thought. By the end of the day, they would have her barefoot and pregnant.

She bit back her annoyance.

"How kind of you." She said dryly. Henley nodded, grinning as though he had just ended world hunger.

"Looks a bit like you, don't you think?" he turned to the group around him and they nodded "she's certainly just as pretty."

She smiled as best as she could under the circumstances and curled her fingers that were itching for the Neutrino strapped to her thigh beneath her cargos. The fairy community considered her trigger happy at best, she rather not have to file a report on her day off.

"That's a very kind thing to say," She said "but its just tabloid fodder. There are thousands of mud women who bare similar resemblance."

They looked unconvinced.

She tried a different, more plausible approach

"It isn't past mud man technology to simulate a picture. Who knows if it's real or not?" she shrugged "besides, I'm not that tall. You really shouldn't believe everything you read."

She turned away, rolled up the useless magazine, tucked it in her back pocket and opened her newspaper to read. A fall in the stock market, toxic dump near the coast of Aquroya endangering their marine wildlife and they were concerned about Fowl's latest play mate.

She was at Police Plaza without consciously heading there, dodging higher ups, watching her subordinates dive out of the way on seeing their superior in on a day off and made her way to Foaly's domain.

She entered without knocking, closed the door and slammed the magazine down on the table before him.

He paused in reaching for his coffee to look across at the cover page of the magazine, sporting the same picture as the centerfold.

"Fetching picture of you, I must say."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"You're not doing your job, pony boy."

He looked affronted at her comment and swiveled in his large chair to face the computer, typing furiously and bringing up pictures.

Holly took a seat and watched the screen as it became littered with countless of pictures from that day with her and Artemis in Dublin and blinked.

"These were taken just by one reporter alone." He said smugly "I cleaned them all out of their archives."

"And left that one picture." She said accusingly.

He neighed in delight; a villain whose skill was praised.

"Of course!" he said "a little bit of mystery is good for those mud men."

"And the People." She narrowed her eyes at him.

Foaly snorted much like her and swung his head.

"If the People can't figure out who's the mystery girl, there's no hope for our future."

Holly felt, in an unusual burst of violence, to smack him. It was hard enough for her to be paraded around Ireland in any form or shape but to be on display in magazines was worst. There was more at stake than just her relationship with Artemis; her job and livelihood of her people were two things.

"They aren't supposed to, Foaly." She said evenly "that's why you are paid handsomely monthly."

"Aren't I?" he grinned cheekily, clearly pleased with himself.

She reached for the nearest thing, an empty plate, and hit him.

"Alright," he said conceding defeat "but it is old news. Its hardly new intelligence that you two are rather close in a somewhat platonic sense" he smiled. "Somewhat and platonic being the very vague operative words."

And if Artemis were here he would refute every and anything Foaly said. It wasn't their obvious relationship that everyone saw, the one between two close friends, which worried her. It was what they would assume from their friendship and intimacy born of the familiarity they saw. Even if it was true. The Council already had Vinyáya at wits ends, refusing to believe her accounts on Artemis because they thought she was biased. If they got wind of anything other than a professional relationship, the least they would do was cancel her visa. Permanently.

"Certain aspects of our relationship aren't for public viewing." She said testily.

Foaly smiled kindly, understanding and nodded, sorting through the pictures and pulling up a different one

"True." He said and pointed at the screen "but you can't convince anyone something isn't going on when he looks at you like that."

She looked up at the display screen and her stomach floored pleasantly. That day she remembered vaguely. All she could remember was that it was after one of their more stellar missions in which he was bloodied, covered in mud and her hair was singed slightly , her uniform littered with foreign matter. And under the circumstances he smiled at her. It wasn't hidden behind a smooth mask of perfection and gloss. He just smiled dotingly at her as though she was his everything. The week or so before he told her, in his own awkward way, that he loved her.

"How can we be discrete about you two when you were never discrete to begin with?" he asked

She couldn't help but smile. She stood, took the magazine, patted his head with it and left. She'd find Artemis.

His reaction was quiet different.

He grinned like a conspirator

"That's a nice picture of me."

"Vain." She labeled him

Artemis stood from behind his desk, still looking at the photo, and circled to her side

"Hardly." He said absentmindedly, further examining the photograph and reading the faulty article with something akin to humour.

"Of course you look acceptable as well."

She poked him harshly in between his shoulder blades.

"You can't even see my face."

She watched his eyes move across the page, devouring words and he chuckled.

"Apparently you're an heiress from Sweden." He said laughingly

She tried not to be amused but his type of humour was infectious. She laughed quietly at his comment.

"Kudos for me." She said "I'm a rich mud-woman."

He put the paper down whilst shaking his head and kissed her forehead affectionately, standing in her personal space.

She had to sit on his desk to reach him but he didn't seem at all deterred by that. He buried his face in her neck, his hands on either sides of her thighs and stayed there. Closing her eyes she leaned against him fully. Sometimes, the strength of her love for him terrified her into silence, but then there were those few days when she let it breathe through her and calm her.

"Are you worried?" she asked quietly. Without seeing his eyes she couldn't gauge his reaction properly. Frond knows how efficient his acting skills were.

"About the stock market fall?"

She pinched him harshly for suddenly developing a sense of humour and he rewarded her with a kiss on her neck.

She could feel him smile against her skin and his voice was muffled when he spoke,

"Should I be?" he asked.

She wasn't sure herself. Granted, he did nothing without reason and his reactions to everything were based on how much he knew about the situation and how it would impact him whether inadvertently or directly. He was calm as you please, pulling her into his arms, uncaring.

"Not without reason." She said "I know you love your privacy."

"We all do." He said. He leaned back to look her in the eyes "this isn't the first nor will it be the last." He told her "on a monthly basis, I am featured at least 10 times. There is no harm in what they are doing. They can't get past the guards at my parents' manor to badger them and they don't hound them in public."

She looked at him as though he was mad.

"Every week, I'm supposedly 'off the market' with a new aristocratic debutante." He said bluntly.

What the mud men thought wasn't overly important. It was what was circulated in Haven that was troubling. The Council was no staunch supporter of Artemis and they wanted her exiled on a good day.

"The People…" she began and was interrupted by him.

"Already suspect something." He kissed her forehead, her nose, then her lips, silencing and distracting her "it doesn't bother me." He said "Honestly."

But it silently unnerved her. Loving him and having the world know it was different from their private moments such as these when the simply wallowed in each other's presence.

She would deal, she supposed. They wouldn't strive to hide it too much, not actively, nor passively. They wouldn't admit it. She would let them assume what they wanted to.

Getting anything akin to usable information out of Artemis was frustratingly difficult and Holly was neither one for gossiping or yelling her business to the world. It would do. They would be fine, she hoped.

She sighed.

"I love you, you know?"

"It would be most unfortunate if you didn't." he said.

She started to reprimand him but he kissed her softly, holding her face between his hands and bumped her forehead with his. Another of his unguarded looks that had her staring at him and he tipped her chin up to meet her gaze full on. Her stomach fluttered. She experienced again, just why she loved him and why those rumours spread so easily. It was in his eyes.

"And you are my life."

Henley opened one of the 4 boxes of mud man magazines that sold life hemp on any day and picked up the first. The usual boring headlines of mud man aristocrats and their spending, their divorces and their famous small dogs—

In a small corner, a barely noticeable picture of Fowl and the mystery red head read

"Artemis Fowl II and his latest: Full story page 12."

It turned out to be another centrefold page. The sprite shifted through the papers quickly, eager to see just what they dug up this time.

The article was the furthest thing from his mind when he saw the picture that accompanied it.

Fowl and the mystery red head, exchanged a quiet glance that had no heat or passion in it but made up for it in intimacy. The two looked so painfully aware of each other's thoughts, vices, quirks, expressed all through a single glance. His eyebrows were raised almost sardonically with a smug smile threatening to spill unto his face and she looked unrelenting with a disbelieving frown on hers.

They were sitting around a patio table, half obscured by the other mud men patrons, but the mud man camera got a distinct feature that couldn't be denied.

Just beneath the familiar looking woman's shirt, a thin gold chain struck the light and Henley could bet his own Book on it that Holly Short's Book dangled from it beneath her clothes.

It was his turn to snort.

Tabloid fodder, my ass, he thought and began stocking the stands.

Owari

I thank you all for the reviews and if I haven't replied yet, please forgive me.

Once more, your feedback will be appreciated and questions answered. If anything, stalk me on my live journal page. Lord knows I live there. Also If anyone shares any views or such about the upcoming book release leave me a message on LJ or PM me. I'd like to hear what people think.

I have another short I have finished writing but it isn't polished.

Reviews feed the starving rain-drenched writer.