Disclaimer: No matter how much I wish I was as brilliant as Eoin Colfer is, I am not.

Important notes: This starts immediately after Chapter 9 of AF: The Atlantis Complex as in the epilogue does not exist - the thrall did not wear off of Holly and Artemis after Turnball's death so Holly is still as dangerous as a...well, a salt-water drinking troll with ringworm! :P

The Aquanaut Nostremius, Atlantis Trench

Nº1 pressed his fingers to the small hollows beneath each of his grey ears, wincing as another wave of pain shot like a volley of lightning bolts into his brain. Rubbing the tiny indents near his temples in firm circles usually had the stress seeping from his muscles like water off a shuttle windscreen. This time, however, it was not helping.

Despite having received orders to not run himself absolutely ragged, Nº1 had pushed his magical abilities to breaking point with the constant drain of performing hundreds of consecutive healings and multiple mind wipes. At one point, his knees had started knocking together from pure exhaustion, drawing the attention of the Nostremius' resident medics. (Of course, it was virtually impossible for the hyper-alert fairies to miss the odd gong-like noise the demon's knees made as they bumped together due to two pockets of fluid on the sides of the joint.) After the initial round of raised eyebrows and questions from the more curious scientific minds, Nº1 was banned from entering any of the wards on the Nostremius' two hospital floors without explicit permission from the floor manager. The other fairies had been careful not to hurt Nº1's feelings; no one knew exactly how many sparks the little demon had left in the tank and the infamous 'exploding-aquarium incident' would be nothing compared to the seriousness of a hull breech on a fully submerged hospital ship.

Luckily, Nº1 had not even thought about resorting to throwing a magical tantrum. In the emergency wards at the centre of the crisis there had been no time for thinking and worrying; instinct had taken over as Nº1 concentrated on gently pulling wisps of magic from the ball of power in his chest. Healing had not always been such a simple task for Nº1, especially during the first few catastrophic lessons with Qwan at Police Plaza.

The problem, as he later realised, was that magic did not need to be forced to do exactly what he wanted it to do. Nº1 had learned that lesson after an errant spark of magic - propelled by the excessive degree of mental force he was using to restrain it - broke free of the young demon's control and came awfully close to taking one of Commander Kelp's ears off. Nº1 knew he would never forget the feeling of absolute terror that wrenched through his gut as the elf rolled to his feet, glaring back through the still smouldering hole that had been burned through four walls and a water cooler. Any other commander would have forbidden Nº1 from ever setting so much as one atom of his being into Police Plaza again. Trouble, however, just let out a heavy sigh as the corners of his lips quirked upwards; he had made more than a few wince-worthy mistakes during his adrenaline-fuelled decades in LEPTraffic.

"Number One!" someone called from behind the demon, startling him into letting both his thoughts and concentration slip. For a moment, tiny scarlet sparks wreathed Nº1's palms, flickering between his fingers until he trapped them in his fists. The magic of a demon warlock was almost like having another entity living in the fairy's body; a tiny, intelligent and protective creature that flooded Nº1's veins with heat at the slightest hint of danger. The magic's protective reflex was a force that not even Qwan had been able to completely master.

Nº1 spun around to face the fairy calling his name, using his stubby tail for balance as his centre of gravity shifted with the turn. He had seen many demons try the move before only to be dragged off balance by heavy armour-plating and a body that had first evolved in the low-gravity atmosphere of the moon. Nº1 almost giggled with pride when he stopped spinning and was still vertical. His vocal chords were bubbling with anticipation but he managed to stop himself at the last second when he caught sight of Foaly's tired yet triumphant face.

"There you are," the centaur whinnied in his usual 'paranoid and completely odd' voice; though the whole act was ruined by his tail which refused to stop swishing in content. "Aren't you meant to be that all-seeing, all-knowing demon warlock who struts around with wisdom pouring out of his- oof!"

Nº1 hit Foaly with more than enough force to knock the air from all four of the centaur's lungs. Somehow, the little demon managed to get his arms around the other fairy's middle and squeezed until his armour-plated hide creaked. The technical consultant squeaked like a possessed guinea pig and hurried to loosen Nº1's death grip.

"D'Arvit, sorry!" the demon exclaimed when he realised that hugging Qwan was very different to hugging something made of squishy flesh and easily breakable bones.

Foaly tried to say 'language!' but only managed to make a loud gasp that would put even someone choking on a gobstopper to shame.

"Hmm, an inability to inspire air requires the...Heimlich manoeuvre," Nº1 muttered, reaching for the centaur's middle again.

Foaly's eyes widened panic as he rapidly backpedaled until his rump hit the corridor wall. "Uhh!" he rasped before coughing and gasping some more.

"I know you're choking. Just stand still so I can-"

"No!" squeaked Foaly. When he thought about that particular moment later, he managed to convince himself that the term 'squeak' was unacceptably misleading- It had definitely been more of a protest; one of those manly sorts of protests that even a bull troll could not misinterpret as a high-pitched squeal.

"But-"

"I'm fine! Honestly, just a bit winded."

"What an interesting word! How did you say it then? Wim-dead?"

"Winded," Foaly repeated, the white spots in his vision clearing as oxygen quickly flooded back into his bloodstream due to the enriched atmosphere produced by the Nostremius' specially cultivated organic air filters. "It's a synonym for-"

"Breathless!"

Foaly automatically smiled. "Exactly."

"But that means…" the demon's eyes suddenly opened wide; an action that is not an easy feat for a species with a membranous third eyelid and eyelashes as short and sharp as thumbtacks. "I could have killed you! I thought you all died and then Holly said that Artemis was sick but Turnball had her under that thrall and-"

"It's alright, Number One." The centaur cautiously put his hand on the young demon's shoulder who was working himself up to full-blown hysteria. "I understand. Really, I do."

Nº1 reluctantly met his friend's concerned gaze but the demon's tentative smile did nothing to reassure Foaly. In fact, the sight of the young demon in tears seemed cause the exact opposite reaction.

"Your eyes are bleeding!" the centaur yelped, grabbing both of Nº1's shoulders before changing his mind when it only seemed to make him bleed more. "Oh Frond, I'm not a field fairy- I'm no good with blood!"

"Bleeding?" Nº1 frowned. "Who is bleeding?"

"You are!"

The young demon wiped the thin streams of tears leaking from his eyes away with the pads of his fingers. Unlike humans and most fairies, a demon who tried to dab his tears away with the backs of his armour-plated hands ran the risk of scraping the surface of his eyeballs off. "Me? You are the one who is injured."

Foaly felt like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown as his eyes darted between Nº1's fingertips and his crimson eyes. Eventually, the genius managed to gather enough IQ points in one place to realise that Nº1 was confused because it wasn't really blood in his eyes.

"Oh!" exclaimed Nº1, obviously catching onto what Foaly meant. "Demon tears. When the original demon life forms evolved on the moon thousands of years ago, there was no need for…erythrocytes. I like that word. Why would you want to turn such a beautiful word into something as boring as 'red blood cells'? Oh, where was I?"

"Erythrocytes."

"Right! There are tiny traces of oxygen on the moon but you would have to breathe a tonne of moon rocks to get a mouthful of oxygenated air. As life was very simple then, bacteria and microscopic creatures, the beings that evolved to become the demons of today were able to survive inside the remains of the meteor that broke off from the moon and hit the earth. As the oxygen levels inside the meteor gradually began to rise due to the diffusion of various gases, the surviving life forms only had a short time to develop a demon equivalent of erythrocytes. If you compare the cells in my blood to the ones in yours or any other earth-based creature, you can actually see the differences. Demon erythrocytes are less efficient because they are smaller which-"

"Also means that once they are dead and beginning to break up, the cells can easily move into the intracellular fluid, the lymph and be excreted in your tears!" For a moment, Foaly's enthusiasm got the better of his common sense as he yanked Nº1 into a tight hug. The demon forced his arms to stay by his sides, scared by the fact that he could hurt the centaur without realising it.

"How are the others?" Nº1 asked instead and got a mouthful of Foaly's extremely dirty blue shirt for his trouble. "You smell as bad as Holly did and your clothes taste like they need a wash."

Foaly jumped and pushed Nº1 back to see if he was being serious. "You just tried to eat my shirt?"

"Actually, your shirt tried to force its way into my gullet."

"Wonderful," Foaly grumbled, plucking at the wet mark over his hip. "I thought my kids were the only ones who liked to nibble my clothes."

"Well, they are only babies…or do you call them foals?"

"Either really. Ergot seems to have inherited my vast intellect but I think Corona wants us to believe she's just pure horse. Knowing Cora, I'll probably come home one day to find she's dismantled every piece of technology in the house."

Nº1 smiled at the dreamy look that flashed across Foaly's face as he imagined what sort of mayhem the fraternal twins would be getting up to in the near future. A second later, he noticed the red tear stains he'd accidentally dotted Foaly's shirt with from his eyelids and fingertips. "Sorry for making your smelly shirt even dirtier."

"Most fairies would consider that an insult," retorted Foaly, not looking the least bit offended. "When my shirt was trying to make you eat it, did you ask how the others are? Whatever you said was a bit muffled."

"I did ask how the others are. The medics wouldn't let me see any of you because they thought I'd over estimate my healing abilities and take on more than I could handle."

"I managed to wheedle some information out of them," Foaly admitted. "I know the basics but there have been…complications."

Nº1 shifted anxiously, rocking back on his tail until it creaked in protest. "They aren't…they can't- Please, Foaly, tell me they aren't dead!"

"No! No, nothing like that."

"Then what are these complications you seem so worried about?"

Foaly sucked in a deep breath. "Turnball's black-magic thrall and runes have been removed from Artemis by a team of warlock medics. Orion was able to stay in control until we could sedate him but Artemis still has the Atlantis Complex to deal with…"

"Why did you stop?" asked Nº1. "That was all good news. If the complication was the Complex I-"

"It's Holly."

"She's going to be alright, isn't she?"

Foaly's ears drooped for a moment, his eyes averted. "I'm not going to lie to you, Number One. You already know that some kinds of magic are much more potent than others and that it is possible for runes cast with such magic to remain in control of the victim after the spell-caster's death. Holly is still under the power of Turnball's thrall and every time we shoot her with a sedative dart, the runes siphon energy from her life force to counteract the drugs-"

"She could burn out," Nº1 gasped, rocking back on his tail. "When I tried to stop her in the umbilical passageway between the Nostremius and Captain Turnball's ambulance, I could already sense that she was using too much life force. If I can get close enough, there is a high chance that I will be able to undo the thrall spell, or at the very least, temporarily disable it. Once she is no longer under its influence it will be a relatively simple operation to remove every last trace of the black-magic."

"You can't." Foaly stamped his front hooves to focus his mind and vent some of the pent-up anger and anxiety crackling along his spine. "Number One, you were the target of her attack and Turnball's orders have become deeply embedded in her psyche. No matter who steps into her cell, she will see them as a threat to her mission and she will kill them."

"But you need me to lift the thrall; the other medics are busy tending to the wounded and I've been ordered to stay out of the hospital wings so they don't have my demon magic floating around to help them. Anyway, Holly is my best friend; she trusts me."

"Fairies enthralled by black-magic are unpredictable at best," Foaly said, tempering the reprimand with his concern for the demon's safety. "I'm not going to let you in there until I'm sure she won't be able to hurt you."

"But-"

"Uh, uh! No buts. You can take it up with the commander when you see him; though you may want to wait a few months to ask. Trouble doesn't cope well when he's been chained to a desk, doing paperwork and drinking gallons of sim-coffee to stay awake for days on end. This disaster is going to have more pieces of digi-reports for him to sign than the paperwork of the past three Koboi incidents combined!"

Nº1 remained silent for a moment as he tried to refine his argument. He could feel the magic surging in his veins in response to the stress and adrenaline assaulting his body. It would only take a second to use the mesmer on Foaly and then he would be free to cure Holly.

"I know what you're thinking," the centaur said with a start as the spark of inspiration in the young demon's eyes triggered his urge to run for the nearest exit. "Don't even try it. In case Qwan forgot to mention it, there are laws that forbid one fairy from using the mesmer on another."

"That is true but they do not govern demons; Hybras had already left the normal stream of time when King Frond's warlocks cast those spells."

Foaly glanced between the red sparks wreathing Nº1's wrists and the scarlet tears that were still dripping from the corners of his eyes. "Even if that is true, I'm your friend! Should you really be using the mesmer on your friends?"

"I-I have…Holly is going to die!"

"There's still time, Number One. Let me talk to the high-ups and do a bit of research. You can help by calling up Qwan and getting him down here as fast as you can. Holly is not going to die on our watch."

Nº1 was about to respond when the double doors beside him were thrown open with considerable force. The little demon managed to dodge the flexi-glass doors as they hit the wall and bounced back but Foaly's rump was not as lucky.

"Ow!" the centaur howled, rubbing his flank. "I did not design those to do that!"

"Frond, sorry!" Commander Trouble Kelp winced as he caught the doors before they could smack Foaly again.

Foaly pouted while he gingerly flexed his hind leg. "Nothing's broken but the bruise is going to be the size of a bull troll."

"Allow me," Nº1 said with a flourish, his fingers resting against Foaly's forearm. It took the demon's magic less than a second to reach the centaur's rump where it easily erased the swelling and healed the damaged soft tissue.

"Neat." Foaly poked his flank experimentally. "I guess that means I can forgive you for trying to maim me, Trubs."

The Commander rolled his eyes but let the comment slide. "I've actually been looking for you two."

"Oh, that was a new search technique? Throw the doors open and if you hear a shout, you know you've found someone."

"Stow it, Foaly; this is serious."

"It's Holly, isn't it?" Foaly asked with a start, all traces of humour momentarily forgotten. "Is she okay?"

Trouble grimaced, his eyes softening with worry.

"Gods, what's happened?"

"Calm down, it's nothing like that. She's in about the same condition she was in when you last saw her. Artemis is still unconscious but Juliet and Butler are both awake."

Nº1 quietly spoke up. "Am I correct in thinking that is good news?"

"Yes, it is," Trouble replied with a half-hearted smile. He had been trying to get Nº1 to be more at ease around him since the 'hole in the wall' incident but the young demon still seemed nervous.

"But something else has got your ears quivering," whinnied Foaly.

The Commander rubbed one of his twitching ears, his expression turning grim. Elves were well known for their emotional nature; one of the more noticeable quirks of the species was the fact that, during times of immense stress or anxiety, their ears could literally tremble. Some fairies had their ears surgically remodeled but Trouble's were normally covered by an LEP helmet when he had to deal with the more disastrous and nerve-wracking situations. "She won't let anyone in there."

"She's free of the thrall? I thought you-"

"No, Foaly. Turnball's order to kill anyone who gets in her way has made it impossible to even open the cell door. She's put thirteen fairies in the hospital ward already- despite her injuries."

"Injuries?" gasped Foaly.

"I got the Council's permission to cannibalise one of the Nostremius' diagnostic imaging machines. The techies managed to rig it to scan through the cell wall and it turned up a few injuries that, from your reports, were inflicted in the line of duty." Trouble flicked the cuff of his blue jumpsuit back to consult his wrist computer. "As far as we can tell, she has two broken ribs with another one cracked, high blood pressure despite considerable blood loss, several minor abrasions and bruises, semi-perforated ear drums and slight anaemia from resurfacing in the escape pod. We won't know much about her mental state until the thrall can be removed but there is a large possibility that she may suffer from temporary psychological problems as well."

"And the medics need to get their hands on her to perform a healing. Has anyone thought of a way to restrain her?"

"She's a fully trained LEP officer so conventional methods aren't an option and the thrall has been counteracting every sedative we throw at it." Trouble turned to Nº1 who had been listening intently to the discussion. "Though there is something…maybe. It depends on whether Nº1 agrees to do it."

"Me?" the demon asked, pointing at his chest.

"I need you to grant a temporary exception to some of the old binding spells cast by Frond's warlocks."

"It is for Holly," Nº1 said as his brow plates compressed in concentration. "Who am I casting it for?"

"And which spells?" put in Foaly.

"The spells pertaining to the use of the mesmer on other fairies."

The demon's forehead rune was already beginning to swirl and glow as he brought his magic to the fore. "That should be relatively simple to do, however, I do not understand how this will help Holly; black-magic runes are far more powerful than the mesmer."

"An average fairy's mesmer would have no chance," Trouble conceded, "nor would a warlock's…but Frond ordered his warlocks to cast those spells for a reason that is still mostly unknown to the general fairy population."

"Wonderful!" exclaimed Foaly flippantly. "I just love superstitious mumbo-jumbo."

The Commander shot a glare at his technical advisor. "It wasn't just superstition."

I'm going to have nightmares, thought Foaly as he took an involuntary step backwards. Purple nightmares.

"Sorry to interrupt." Nº1 was shuffling restlessly, drops of crimson magic flickering from his fingers like tiny shooting stars. "I can only build my power up for so long so I will need to know the spell's target very soon."

"Okay," said Trouble, drawing himself up to his full height. "Me."

"You?" Foaly couldn't decide whether or not the Commander was being serious. "What can you possibly do that a warlock can't? This is a delicate situation, not some adrenaline-fuelled gun fight!"

"I'm not just an idiot with good hand-eye coordination and a pretty face, Foaly." Trouble tapped his cheekbone, drawing the others' attention to the purple eye above it. "These aren't contacts or artificial iris grafts."

"I guessed that years ago but I still don't-"

"Gods, I don't have time to give you a lecture on Frond-era history; you're just going to have to trust me on this one."

Foaly frowned, unconvinced, but Nº1 seemed to understand the significance of Trouble's extremely rare and occasionally disconcerting eye colour. The little demon's eyes closed as he began to mutter incantations under his breath.

Nothing seemed to happen until Foaly jumped when the thick, black hairs of his tail bristled as static electricity crackled along Nº1's armour-plated hide, sending tremors rippling through the air. The Nostremius' fluorescent light tubes flickered and surged; a low rumbling noise vibrating along the floor as the ship's ocean-current powered generators struggled to cope with the power fluctuations.

"This may hurt," murmured Nº1, voice distorted by the sheer force of the magic rushing through his veins. A small crimson spark jumped from Nº1's pinkie to hang in the air before Trouble who was rigid with tense determination.

"Oooh, scary!" Foaly chuckled, feeling the need to alleviate his anxiety with his typical misplaced humour. "What an anti-climax."

A second later, Nº1's magic exploded outward from his body, shattering the nearby lights as it hit Trouble square in the chest. Foaly automatically ducked for cover while Nº1 and Trouble disappeared in a blur of crimson magic.

TBC

Author's Note: So, long first chapter is long :P I was trying to find a place to cut it up but it was too hard so you got all of it! I'd love to hear your feedback, this first bit was written a little while ago but I've already got the next 2 chapters written up and this is going to be a looonngg story so make sure you stick it on your alerts if you want to keep up with it!

Anyone want to have a guess about what in Frond's name Trouble and Nº1 are going on about?