Artemis was bored. He was so beyond bored. He was so bored that he felt like using colloquialisms. He felt so bored that he thought that Holly and Foaly should be worried; he was that tempted to do something evil again. Not being evil cut down choices so much. You were limited to stuff you could do in the day time only, stuff that didn't consist of hurting people, or involve schemes to help personal finances, like pottery or flower arrangement. Even those could be twisted to slightly demented purposes. It gave him ideas… which he quickly shut away.
He sighed. He needed a challenge. Then a small voice in his head (which he was getting a bit worried about; what was it?) told him there were plenty of problems in the world. He could always solve them and do everyone a big favour. He decided that boredom had addled his senses and he was now talking to himself from the point of view of a girl. (What? The voice was definitely female) He realised that his argument was flawed somewhere and he was going in circles, but he couldn't be bothered.
The sky outside was stunning. A beautiful blend of rich purple and plum shades. He wondered what time it was. Feeling lethargic for one of the first times in his life, he glanced at his watch. It was 5:30 am. Why was he up so early? It was probably because he was bored even in his sleep.
Urgh. He made a sound that wasn't even a word, and broke one of the first promises he'd made to himself; his own personal laws. He sighed again. Enough about being bored. He knew what he could do, and feel productive at the same time!
He went into his bedroom and quickly came out, holding a pair of headphones, a CD-player and a few old CD's in his pale hands. He considered finding paper, but then thought of something more enjoyable and satisfying. He made his was down to the large Fowl Garage, and further in to an old store-room. He turned on the light and smiled; just like he remembered. Chalk boards all around the room. He hadn't been here for years. The last time was when—when his father had been proclaimed dead.
He brushed memories and dust alike, and found a box of chalk. With hands that were eternally clean and now beyond grubby, he pulled on his headphones and inserted a CD without a title. The sound of the classical Celtic ballad was quite exquisite. His heart was beating faster than normal. He hesitated before touching the box of chalk.
This place brought back so many memories. Of old times. Of old people, and things and feelings. He recalled the day.
He'd known something was wrong for quite a while. He'd known his father was long over-due. He knew something was up with the Russian Mafia. At that young age, it had been made second nature to doubt and question the nature of occurrences, as his father's butler had put it to Dom, when Dom has expressed surprise at his awareness. He knew long before that letter arrived, that life would never be the same.
When it did arrive, his mother fell into a dead faint, and hit her head quite hard. Her coma was short, but when she came out of the tunnel at the end, she was different. She was no longer the smart and dependable mother he'd known his whole life; she was someone else altogether.
As time passed, they drifted apart, living in different worlds. His mother spent more and more days in her room, fearing the 'creatures' and he spent more and more days, well. Here. He had no one left. Butler was out helping in the search for his father. The maids were busy handling their home, and the man-servants had taken up arms to defend the Fowl manor against men who planned to take advantage of his father's absence. He was all alone.
This was before he ever thought to take over the so-called family business.
He fingered the box of chalk and a smile tickled his lips. In the background his favourite 6 bars played. He opened the box and saw the small pieces of white chalk. Broken as they were, they were unblemished under the surface. Grubby fingerprints marked the surface and they had borne the brunt of many angry and sad blows but they were there to greet him after all this time.
Taking a deep breath, he picked up a piece of chalk. The texture was familiar to his fingers. And it's like the pieces of the puzzle fell together. Something in him clicked, and he knew there were no ghosts to confront, not anymore.
He pulled off his heavy black blazer and undid his tie. It was hot down there, but apart from a faint discomfort, he didn't notice his fine shirt clinging to his chest and back. He positioned himself and closed his eyes. He began the moment his eyes opened. It started off with a simple equation on the board, which morphed across several spans of black-board into a complex looking algorithm. He hadn't stopped a single second.
The music beat in his head, the rhythm matching his heart-beat. His hair was a mess and his fingers were covered in chalk dust. But the only thing he saw were the numbers in front of him. For the first time in years, he was absolutely and completely focused on one thing only. Every since he took over the Fowl Empire he had to juggle and never felt the pure pleasure of focus on one thing, no matter if it wasn't art. And now it was like a basin of tension was draining from his heart. He felt so good.
His lips had curved into an unconscious smile. He had realised that though he was broken and scarred, he was unblemished, and for him, time would heal all wounds.
Butler had awoken, and had been unable to find Artemis and had awoken the entire family to find him. Holly had been called in when the mid-day bell rung. She was worried. Co-incidentally she had come across foot-prints on dusty ground. With Butler armed with a Saur behind her, she made her way to that small room. They stood at the door way, so stunned at the sight that they lowered their weapons.
Artemis looked peaceful.
..-end-..
Alright. I am so sorry. I'm very happy with the way this story turned out, but I'm sure you can tell that this isn't as planned. Originally the imagery was the same but it entailed cheesy fluff (ArtemisxHolly). I think I had a sort of break through, which I would prefer not to share, but it triggered some deep reflection. This is the product of that, and too much time (my exams are FINALLY over)
If it helps, this whole thing is kind of an external way of describing a journey to the inside of one's self. I think that losing his father would not have left him as happy as he pretends to be, and there would be some demons to face. It basically focuses on him knowing, but not doing anything. And then waiting for a while (in accordance with the book) before taking action, which causes him to be guilty.
It's more or less about forgiving himself.
Please give me your opinions. Thanks!
Love,
Lady Merlin