"Where going, Daddy?" Artemis Fowl III asked, tugging at the neatly ironed sleeve of the bespoke suit sat next to him.
"Tara," his father responded shortly. Juliet frowned. He was never short with his son – but she knew how this yearly visit always affected him. Since his accident when he was 16, he had insisted on standing by the green hill on the anniversary of that day, just … staring. He had told her why, once, and she didn't like to bring it up again. This particular year must be even worse.
"Why, Daddy?" the 2-year-old was pestering. "Wh-"
"Shh, Timmy-Jules, Daddy doesn't want to talk right now," she whispered. They hadn't wanted to nickname him Arty like his father, nor Timmy like his grandfather, nor even Jules which was too much like his mother, after his middle name, Julius; so they had combined two. Their son's middle name was another leftover from before the accident that had messed with her brother's charge's mind. He had been particularly keen to call the child by that name. So many things that meant so much to him, but he couldn't remember why … like how he had been even more adamant that if it had been a girl, she would have been called Holly. Well, Juliet had a suspicion she was pregnant again; maybe they'd get to use that name this time. She wanted to use Jade – after all, he had been in charge of all the names so far – but he had shuddered so violently at the idea of a gemstone name that that had been dropped.
Artemis II straightened his tie as Butler pulled up near the hill. Dear Butler – he wasn't up to much more than chauffeur duty these days. Old before his time, although his time would be coming along in a few years now anyway. His charge felt a familiar twinge of guilt at the knowledge that it was probably the escapades of his youth, culminating in that day ten years ago exactly, that had aged him so much. Not that that day had been Artemis' fault – at least, as far as he had been told. His memories were hazy and incomplete and what he thought he could remember he was sure had been a dream. It didn't matter, anyway, he told himself, shaking his head irritably as he stepped out of the car, his wife coming round to meet him hand-in-hand with Artemis III. She put her other arm around her husband's shoulders and squeezed a little, half-smiling sadly. He returned the expression.
On the top of the one particular hill he had come to stare at was an area that shimmered slightly. It was strange, but since his accident he had had much less interest in investigating things like that. He still liked to know the scientific answers to most things; it was just that something deep inside him warned him not to question some things, and this was one of them, and he couldn't bring himself to ignore that voice. Somehow he knew it would only cause pain. So he walked, as calmly as he could, halfway up the hill, and let that something stop him from going further. Even Juliet and Timmy-Jules felt that they should stop at that point, although it was even less conscious for them so they didn't even think about it. As they drew level, she reached out and took his hand.
"You alright, Arty?" she said softly. He didn't reply. He was too busy, she knew, mourning the friend he couldn't remember – a comrade in some old scheme of his? A childhood sweetheart? A stranger, perhaps, who had said something meaningful to him once? Who knew? – and whose fate he didn't know. Why had they been separated? Was he or she dead, or just somewhere else, unable to reach him? Had they fallen out? Was this half-formed ghost of a memory even real, or was he imagining it all? Either way, there was something … something here that made him feel at home. It was painful, so wistfully painful, because he couldn't stay, he couldn't reach the memories; but here, somehow, was his past – the bits he couldn't recollect. He knew he had considered himself a criminal mastermind in his youth, and that somehow he had changed, left some of his old ways behind him, become a more moral and likeable person, started caring a little less about gold and more about other people, and somehow, that change had had something to do with this hill.
At the top of this hill sat Holly Short, shielded. She wasn't the cause of the shimmer though; that was the statue of Artemis Fowl II: Friend to the People, wrapped in cam-foil and surrounded by warlock spells keeping humans just far enough away not to chance accidentally bumping into it. The tears in her eyes stung with the bitter knowledge that he would never even know it was there. Ten years … ten whole years and the pain had not lessened. It had been for the best – right? He was happily married now. He and Juliet loved each other, loved their son, they were better off without the complications of fairy civilisation and some stupid, one-metre-tall elf in her nineties confusing his feelings. Maybe she and Trouble would have a child someday, maybe even someday soon. But they wouldn't name him or her Artemis, not even as a middle name, like Timmy-Jules had Julius because that name still meant something to his father. Trouble thought she was over it all … he didn't know how she came, every year, to see him, to know that somewhere, deep inside, without understanding why or remembering who the feelings were for, Artemis Fowl II cared about Holly Short.
She had agreed to his mind-wipe. They had been in severe danger of falling in love, and between fairy and Mud Man that could only lead to life-long heartbreak for her. She had hoped that she would be able to move on, especially when he and Juliet became an item and got married within two years of his supposed 'accident', and then three years later when Trouble had proposed and she had, pretending to be pleased, accepted. Maybe, after Artemis died (the thought pierced her like a cold knife), when she would still have her own fairy husband, she would get over him. Maybe her heart wouldn't ache like this forever. But she had a feeling that centuries later, she would still be visiting this memorial to him on this date … just, by then, completely alone.
The sun was now at its highest point in the sky. Timmy-Jules was hungry. Holly watched the happy young family turn and leave. But after they drove away, she pulled back the cam-foil and stayed by the stone face of her Mud Boy until the sun set again.