The light from the computer screen was beginning to burn his retinas. He suddenly realized that it had been quite some time since he had last blinked, and his eyes were dry and sore as a result. He raised both hands to his face and rubbed them fiercely, but they were never lowered. Instead, they changed position, cradling his head as he slumped over the keyboard, his stinging gaze fixed on the Y key while he tried to piece his scattered thoughts back together.
He'd lied to her. She'd kissed him. And now she was gone, beyond his reach, just as he'd begun to realize his feelings for her. He shut his eyes tightly, so tightly that his face scrunched and contorted with the effort. He wanted to be able to open them again at the moment before he'd committed his terrible act, so he could change the course of the following events. So he could say something different, something innocent, something that would convince her to help him yet wouldn't cripple their relationship later on. Ever so slowly, his eyelids parted, as they had done countless times before while he sat, defeated, silently punishing himself for his actions. Hoping against all hope that this time, this time, it would work. But of course it never did.
What could I have said? He asked himself. I did the only thing I could do. I did it to save Mother. He shook his head; slowly at first, the motion growing in violence the longer he maintained it.
No! He wanted to scream, it's this kind of thinking that makes me deserve this. I did not trust her enough to use the truth. I thought that lies were the only thing that would get me to where I needed to be. All my life I've relied on deceit, and on the ability to disregard emotions - my own or otherwise. He pursed his lips, shutting his eyes once again, this time trying to stifle the tears that were threatening to spill onto his cheeks.
This isn't just about my latest crime. I've changed, certainly - the fact that I am now aware of how horrible I am is just proof of my newfound conscience. He sighed, letting his right hand thump onto the desk top. I thought I'd moved past the time when I had to lie and hurt those close to me to get what I wanted. His fingers twiddled the mouse cord and he opened his eyes, releasing the tears. He started to lift his hand to wipe them away but decided against it. It doesn't matter. There will be plenty more to take their place.
He quickly replayed in his mind every single moment in which he'd emotionally harmed another person. This is not healthy, said the rational side of his brain, which was decreasing in size with every passing second. I don't care, said the rest. Flashes of the moments came and passed in rapid succession: snapping at his disraught mother when she insisted that his father would be coming home for supper, even though he was lost in the Arctic; countless times when he'd ordered Butler to do something that went against his moral code - he realized now how much it pained the bodyguard to recieve such instructions from a young boy, who should have been enjoying his childhood but was instead participating in such heinous activities; tricking Holly into believing that she'd betrayed the People's secrets to him; and of course, letting her think that she had infected his mother with a fatal disease, which could quite possibly spread across both the human and fairy populations. He barely resisted the urge to bang his head on the desk with each new memory that crossed his mind.
I am a terrible person, he told himself. I promised myself I would change, but look at me. Have I? A small part of him wanted to be reassuring, to say "but this time your intentions were good. You only lied in order to save your mother, who lay dying on her bed with no other options." But there was another option. I could have told them the truth, quite simply that we had before us the beginnings of a possibly catastrophic epidemic, with the only antidote lost to the past. We needed to go back in time to rescue JayJay. There was no other way to save my mother and maybe the rest of the world from a Spelltropy outbreak. Even if they agreed to let me go back, to get No.1 to send me, I couldn't do it alone. If I ran into trouble I would be virtually helpless - what good is all the intelligence in the world if the ability to fight is the only thing that will save you? He knew just how angry he had to be with himself before he started belittling his own intelligence. I could have said that. They probably would have agreed, too, and the whole thing would have ended happily and I would not be having this breakdown right now. But instead I had to go and lie to a friend. Now look where I am. He was only slightly surprised to find his shoulders heaving with quiet sobs, his eyes running like taps and his breath coming in hitched gasps. He would have smirked had he not been such a wreck - the great Artemis Fowl II, reduced to a blubbering mess because he hurt his friends' feelings. Perhaps this is actually a good thing; a turning point, the moment when I finally change my ways. After a good five minutes of releasing his pent up emotions, he dared to wipe away the stains on his cheeks, pushing the hair that had fallen into his eyes away from his face. He sat back, thinking about what his next move should be.
Do I apologize to everyone? Make a point of having an emotional conversation with each and every person I've hurt, to take back all of the pain I've caused? Something inside of him quailed at the idea. What if they do not forgive me? What will I do? How would I live with myself knowing that my wrongs are so terrible they cannot be absolved? He frowned, desperately trying to come up with an acceptable alternative solution.
Maybe I can fix my mistakes by doing something so completely good - what kind of problems does the world have that I can attempt to solve? He pinched the bridge of his nose, rifling through his mental store of information on the world at large. I cannot hope to change humanity enough to have a decent effect on polution levels, or overhunting, or deforestation, or the utter neglect of human and animal rights in some places around the world. He nearly snorted. Some places? Try most places. Humans have turned planet Earth into a disgusting place, both physically and morally. What I need to do is to take on something that does not involve the cooperation of other humans...though fairy aid is not an unacceptable idea. His eyes were beginning to light up, a sign that usually meant he was on the brink of creating one of his master plans. He opened a word file on his laptop, typing two words at the top of the page:
THE PROJECT.
He continued to flesh out his ideas on-screen, pulling a few sheets of paper and a pencil from his desk to sketch some blueprints. He tapped away determinedly at the keyboard, thinking: If I can pull this off, I will be a hero - I will still have to apologize, but maybe this will make me into a more forgiveable person. Maybe...
He froze, his hands poised above the laptop. But I've committed so many crimes. How can this one act make up for everything I've done? A small, taunting voice in the back of his mind began to speak.
They'll think you're trying to trick them into liking you, it said. That you're doing this to gain their trust - trust you don't really deserve. His eyebrows furrowed and he scanned his work.
But I'm planning to sink everything I have into this project. It will save the polar ice caps - surely they won't believe this is some kind of trick.
How could they not? The voice countered. It's all you've ever done - trick them, that is. Into thinking you're a decent human being.
Not true! I may not be the most ethical or truthful person on the planet, but that does not mean that I cannot utilize those qualities...sometimes. I'm getting better at it.
It won't matter. They don't trust you. You are a liar and a criminal, a thief. They may even try to stop you, because they'll think that there is some kind of evil plot behind the plan. When have you ever done anything completely selfless?
Appalled at the thought that he couldn't trust his closest friends to not sabotage the project, he blinked and opened his mouth as if to utter a cry of protest. Realizing that his foe was within his own mind, he shut it again and stared at the words on the screen. Trying to remove himself from the mental arguement, to focus on the project and nothing else. But he couldn't seem to make sense of the letters, and no matter how hard he tried to tune the voice out, it just kept talking.
They've always known they couldn't trust you. They have never really been your friends - they needed your intellect, that was it. Who could ever be friends with you?
He was shocked to realize that the voice was becoming more and more convincing.
But...they care. Holly cared when I nearly died. Butler waited for me the entire three years I was in Hybras, because he felt guilty about letting me go. They're not...they couldn't...they would not be able to pretend to be my friends...
Holly was upset because she needed you to help figure out what to do next. Butler was obligated as your bodyguard. Foaly spies on you constantly - he's probably watching you right now. Even your parents know you're a criminal, and will do what they can to prevent you from causing more trouble. You cannot trust anyone, simply because they cannot trust you.
He sat for a while, trying to shut down this train of thought. Eventually, he just turned back to his work, determined to at least do some good for the world - whether his friends believed in his motives or not.
They will try to stop you...said the voice. He gritted his teeth and spoke out loud.
"I must try, at least. Try to do some good."
Ten words. Two sentences of five.
For some unfathomable reason, he felt relieved.