A/N: This plot bunny was inspired by Blink-182's "I Miss You". I toyed with the story a bit and then realized that Ludo's "The Horror of Our Love" fit it almost perfectly. I love that song, eerie and disturbing as it may be.
Set after The Opal Deception, probably some time in the middle of Breaking Dawn, is non-Lost Colony compliant. Bon appetit.
Melancholy whispers greeted Artemis Fowl as he went down to breakfast one Tuesday morning to discover all the inhabitants of Fowl Manor unsettled and downcast. He'd awoken uncharacteristically late, having slept restlessly, and the weather outside was as gloomy as the atmosphere in the house. As he descended the main staircase barefoot, the stone tiles cold on his feet, he encountered the first sign that something was off. Two maids he didn't really know were conversing in a corner with Samuel, the gardener, in hushed tones. Artemis was startled to see that one of the women was crying, her hand clamped over her mouth as she tried to control her sobbing.
"Oh, my God, I can't even believe...How is George taking it?...The service is going to be on Thursday, did you say?...How horrible..."
Disconcerted, he slipped by them unnoticed and padded into the kitchen. The chef was absent, but he found Butler standing over the counter reading the newspaper, his expression grim. He glanced up as Artemis entered, his mouth set in a thin line. "Good morning," he offered halfheartedly.
"Butler?" Artemis said. "What's going on? What happened?"
"Norma Cornell was found murdered this morning, in an alley near Dublin Harbor. They don't know who the killer is. Everyone's pretty upset about it," said Butler with his usual frankness.
Artemis was shocked. "Norma? She's dead?" Butler raised an eyebrow but didn't make a dry comment about how "dead" was usually synonymous with "murdered", as he might've under different circumstances. He nodded silently and passed a section of the paper over to Artemis, who could see now that he'd been reading the obituaries. There it was: Norma Cornell, dead at age 67, survived by her husband George and her daughter Rebecca. In the corner was a thumbnail image of the plump, smiling woman who had worked as a chambermaid in the Fowl household for six years before Mr. Fowl had gone missing, and another three years after he was found again. She'd lived alone with her husband in one of the multiple small guest houses that the Fowls allowed their employees to stay in, her daughter having moved out on her own years ago.
Artemis was deeply unnerved. Everyone had liked Norma: the other staff, Mr. and Mrs. Fowl, Butler. Artemis had never gotten to know her very well, but even he had tolerated her when she used to ruffle his hair and ask how his day at school had gone, like a kindly old grandmother. It was incomprehensible that such a senseless act of violence had ended the life of such a pleasant person. Artemis sat down at the table, head in hands, no longer interested in breakfast.
"Your parents have given everyone the day off," Butler said, explaining the lack of a chef, "but I can fix you up something to eat if you'd like."
"No, thank you," muttered Artemis. He sat there morosely rubbing his fingers over a faint scorch mark on the wooden table, reminiscent of a failed experiment he'd performed when he was four. An experiment, incidentally, that Norma, then newly hired, had cleaned up and helped him conceal from his parents, earning young Artemis' fondness.
Butler sighed and gave Artemis' shoulder a squeeze on his way out the door as he left to go perform a routine check of the Manor's security. Just because the Fowls had offered him the day off didn't mean that he was going to take it.
Having rather lost his appetite, there was nothing for Artemis to do but head back upstairs to his bedroom. He felt strangely numb, as if the whole situation were unreal, and if he laid there in isolation long enough the world would eventually right itself. He could think of nothing to do but sit in bed, staring at the blank ceiling. He'd never before had to deal with the death of someone he was attached to, not really. There had been Commander Root, but the relationship he'd had with the Commander had been one of mutual respect more than friendship. Of course, there had been plenty of near-misses. Dealing with his father's disappearance had been difficult, but Artemis had always refused to let himself give up hope that he was alive, and in the end his faith hadn't been for naught. Butler's "death" had been horrifying, but for the several hours that the bodyguard had lain lifeless Artemis had at least been able to distract himself with the task of ensuring that he didn't stay that way. This was the first time Artemis had been faced with the brutal, unchangeable reality that a person he'd known nearly all his life- had spoken to only yesterday!- was gone forever. Simply no longer existed, all at the whim of a random stranger.
Of course, Artemis didn't know that for certain, but that was what he theorized. It was hard to imagine that anyone who knew Norma could have wanted her dead. Artemis wondered what she could possibly have been doing in the city without George last night that would have resulted in her murder. Had she been doing some last minute shopping? Maybe she'd gone to meet a friend for dinner, and walked to her car alone through the parking lot? The more he dwelled on it, the more depressed he became. Even with Commander Root's murder he'd experienced closure; he knew who had murdered him and with what motive, and Opal Koboi had even been caught in the end. It was the utter pointlessness and lack of resolution that was bothering Artemis.
He could feel the prickling of tears and a hard lump in his throat, and felt horrible for Norma's husband and daughter. Their shock and sadness must be a hundred times greater. Lacking the energy to do anything else, Artemis rolled onto his side to sleep away his grief.
A/N: Good so far? Sorry, Twilight fans, there won't be vamps until later. How much later, alas, I'm not sure.
