A/N: I don't own Artemis Fowl or FOB lyrics but I do pwn them at being mediocre.

Summary: Three years have passed since The Lost Colony. A heartbroken Artemis immerses himself in a side project, leading him to find closure in the unexpected, albeit with tragic results.

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The story of Orion's death has many versions. Some state he offended Artemis, who killed him. Others say that he became her favorite hunting companion, but offended Apollo, who loosed a giant scorpion to chase Orion into the sea. Apollo then tricked Artemis into shooting Orion. When she discovered what she had done, she gave way to her grief and immortalized her companion and the scorpion by placing them in the heavens as constellations.

Artemis was sitting primly on his bed, attempting to do away with his heartache via meditation. It wasn't working, of course; the guest bedroom shared a wall with his, permitting any noise to transcend the room it was in. The noise in question was some pop rock blaring on a stereo, undoubtedly Juliet's, who had come to visit and had been given the room adjacent to his. "We're the therapists pumping through your speakers, delivering just what you need," the singer warbled. "We're well read and poised, we're the best boys..."

Despite his grief and loss, Artemis could not help but feel a twinge of uppityness. There were few in this world who would be as well read and poised as he was. It wasn't boasting, it was merely fact. Surely genii wouldn't make music their profession? He shut his eyes. The song was somewhat...exhilarating, to say the least. The exact opposite of what he was required to feel in order to have some inner peace of mind.

"...We're the chemists who've found the formula

To make your heart swell and burst..."

Such utter nonsense. If anyone were to find such a formula, it would be Artemis himself. He suspected he had found it already. One of the variables included a beautiful girl named Minerva Paradizo.

Artemis inadvertently let out a despondent sigh. She was amazing. He reminisced about their time together, a blur of coffee shops and intellectual conversation. He flushed at the thought of their few but nonetheless wonderful kisses (they had been raised too properly for excessive intimacy), inhaling her flowery scent, the softness of her hair. They played chess; he had never had such a worthy opponent before. They were a formidable pair. Or rather, had been. For if Minerva were indeed a variable in a figurative formula to make your heart swell and burst, she would also be a key factor in a formula to breaking your heart. His heart, as a matter of fact.

He had scorned such expressions at first. How can one tear a heart and also refer to it as breaking? he had asked Butler when he was naught but ten. No grammatical sense whatsoever.

Love breaks all rules, Butler had replied. And so it would seem. Artemis put a hand to his breast. Something inside there hurt. His feelings of devastation somehow held base in his chest. Breaking, tearing-they all described his status quo perfectly, grammatical sense or no. Not that being disproven made him feel any better-in fact, it only made him feel worse.

He pummeled his pillow with his fists. He was frustrated. What had he done wrong? Where was a genius to go from here? How had he let himself become so vulnerable? A mastermind should be able to erase this pain. He could hack into every computer program in the world, he could memorize anything you could throw at him in a short space of time-and yet he could not stanch the wound in his heart that was hurting him so terribly.

What had Minerva said? He couldn't bear to think about it and yet his mind slid to the clipped words that came from her mouth and pierced his very soul...I won't give you any cliches. My heartstrings for you have fluctuated. I have now drawn the conclusion that independence was the main component in my success as a young virtuoso, and I wish to maintain such triumphs. This would be beneficial for both of us, I think. And so henceforth our romantic relationship has been disbanded in favor of a platonic bond...

She had gone on and on, almost robotically. Artemis had simply stared and stared and stared, at a loss for words. They were sitting outside one of their favorite coffee shops and they hadn't even ordered yet. He had wondered vaguely, above his numb and shock, whether she had practiced this speech in a mirror several times. Had she first began with deciding what tactic to use? Politically correct or tactless? Most definitely the former, it's Artemis Fowl I'm dealing with... Evidently she had not decided on her tone. Or perhaps she thought she had gotten the sincere pitch of her voice down pat. Artemis had pondered whether to verbalize an acrimonious remark on this, but decided to stay mute on the subject. How she presented breakup did not matter; whether she actually did it mattered. And she had done it. And now she was waiting for his reaction.

"I..." Artemis had begun, but changed his mind. "The feelings you have so clearly expressed to me just now are mutual," he said, though every word he spoke caused him pain and was a lie. His mind was still reeling from what she was doing, what she had done already. He could not think, he was simply talking out of his posterior-"I do wish to maintain, if not a relationship, then most certainly a friendship."

Minerva let a smile grace her lips, relief washing over her lovely features. "That would be wonderful," she said.

I thought we were wonderful, he was tempted to say. Wonderful together. But he did not say that. He did not want to end this acrimoniously and he could tell, from quick psychoanalysis, that she did not want it to either. They had parted with a formal handshake. He had returned home by cab, escaped the pleas of his insufferable six-year-old twin brothers, Myles and Beckett, to construct "The biggest castle ever!" with their Lego pieces, and was now in his room, straying from meditation and into woeful contemplation. He couldn't even hear the blasted music anymore.

A knock on the door. Artemis wanted to be alone.

"It's Butler," rasped a familiar voice. "I'm coming in, whether you like it or not."

The door swung open and a large Eurasian man stepped in and closed it behind him. His gait gave the impression that he had a limp and was trying to hide it. He pulled up a chair at the side of Artemis' bed and seated himself. Artemis twiddled his thumbs, feeling the power of Butler's stare directed at him. It was probably full of concern; Butler's intuition regarding Artemis was always dead on. Artemis stared at his manicured nails and wondered whether concern that he was metrosexual had befallen Minerva.

"Artemis." Butler spoke.

"I'm perfectly fine," Artemis snapped. "It's not a disease, it won't kill me. A virus, perhaps, one that needs time as a vaccine. Time, Butler, I need time."

Butler simply looked at him for a moment, bemused. "I came in here to tell you about the job you applied and interviewed for at Lodestar," he said at last. "As a tutor, I believe? You start first thing in the morning tomorrow, at seven."

"Oh." Artemis felt himself blush. "That's fine."

"May I ask what you were referring to?" inquired Butler.

Artemis sighed again. "Minerva severed ties with...that is to say, she...she broke up with me." No point in beating around the bush, although Artemis hated the phrase with a passion. She broke up wtih me. It sounded so juvenile.

The expression on Butler's face softened. Wordlessly he put a comforting hand on Artemis' shoulder. A lump formed in Artemis' throat. "I take it you would like to be left alone," said Butler. The man was aging, but his mind was sharp as ever.

"Yes," Artemis said, giving his old friend a small smile. "Very much so."

After patting Artemis on the back, Butler retreated from the room. Artemis watched him go, feeling a mixture of longing and loneliness return to make his stomach queasy. Evidently Juliet had tired of listening to music, for Artemis heard not a sound from the room next to his. He closed his eyes again and tried meditating and found that he couldn't, not even as the quietude threatened to suffocate him-he had always used Minerva as his focus for the past three years. Now she had become a disturbance. Artemis resorted to pummeling his pillow again. It was primitive, but a reliever of stress nevertheless.