Close Your Eyes if you Love Me

By the spring of his final year at St. Bartleby's, Artemis Fowl had grown so accustomed to being summoned to the office of the school psychologist, both with and without prior notice, that when his presence was requested on an otherwise decidedly dreary and mundane morning in early March, he thought nothing of it; after all, it was nothing out of the ordinary. Indeed, if the raven-haired youth felt anything as straightened his blazer and left the school library, he was slightly peeved that he had been interrupted while reading a rather engrossing tome detailing Tamerlane's campaigns in Anatolia; in the original Turkish, of course.

As usual, Dr. Po, a small, grey man with spectacles and a bald spot, began the counseling session by meticulously arranging his papers, clasping his hands, and gazing intently across his desk at the young man in front of him, awaiting his patient's usual commentary. Over the years, the procedure of their meetings had changed but little: Artemis would begin with a snide assertion, Po would become flustered and attempt to steer the session back onto its original course, Artemis would continue to prove difficult until Po managed to muster something poignant and clever, perhaps even bordering on thought-provoking; in three years, this had occurred once. On this particular occasion, Artemis opened with a remark on the Doctor's new briefcase.

"Ah, yes," the older man responded, gazing at the object in question with an air of undeniable pride, "I'm glad you noticed. A colleague of mine at Cambridge gave it to me last week- he had it specially made. Real Russian leather, and gold-plated buckles. A thing of beauty, wouldn't you say?"

A grin spread across Artemis' face. Po simply made this too easy.

"Well, Doctor, it's certainly designed to look like a thing of beauty. The leather is synthetic, likely from a factory in Indonesia or Vietnam, the buckles poorly-disguised brass. If it's any comfort, your colleague at Cambridge has an excellent taste in forgeries."

Running a hand across his forehead, Po did not look exasperated, as per his custom, merely exhausted.

"Of course. I should have known. Look, Artemis. The year is nearing its end, and this will likely be one of the last times we meet. It has always been my goal to help you, but three years of counseling sessions has taught me that for you, conventional methods aren't an option. It occurred to me, as such, after our last meeting, that perhaps a very unconventional approach is the best option for you."

Flicking back his briefcase's brass clasps, he withdrew a single, folded piece of paper and slid it across his desk, into Artemis' waiting hands.

"You must have given me the wrong form," the youth began, glancing back up with a frown, "this is an informational pamphlet for…"

"For the Senior Grads Ball next weekend, yes, I know."

The frown grew into a scowl as Artemis thumbed through the pages, his brows narrowing.

"This is your unconventional approach? A dance? Forgive me if missing the joke here, Doctor, but I don't find this humorous."

"Not a joke," Po countered cautiously, raising his hands, "but an opportunity. I've watched you for three years, and through all that time it's become perfectly clear to me that you foster no friendships with your fellow students, make no connections, seek no interaction or companionship, and perhaps herein lies one of your greatest problems. With a mind like yours, you need someone whom you can confide in, whom you can talk to, with whom maybe someday you can find happiness, lest you go mad. As my final task, I challenge you to find that someone and bring them to the dance." He paused, removing his spectacles with a smile on his weary face. "That will be all, Artemis."

"The dance? Are you serious?!"

From the moment Artemis told his family, Juliet Butler had been nothing but ecstatic, practically jumping up and down around him where he sat at the kitchen table, regaling him with a litany of questions as he sat speechless:

"When is it? Who are you taking? How are you going to ask her? What are you going to wear? Can I come? Artemis?!"

Her older brother, meanwhile, merely grinned from where he leaned against the counter, shaking his head and occasionally attempting to calm his sister. Myles sat contemplatively in his chair, in deep thought, while Beckett soon joined Juliet in her yelling and jumping. Opposite him, Artemis' mother and father simply smiled. After what seemed to be an eternity, Angeline Fowl finally stood and clapped her hands together.

"Come on, boys. I think you've harassed your older brother enough. Up to your rooms, it's past your bedtimes."

After some protestation from Beckett and an argument on the futility of curfews from Myles, the twins complied, followed by their parents, leaving only the Butlers with Artemis. Her face suddenly serious, Juliet pulled up a chair and propped her elbows on the table, gazing intently towards her ward.

"Are you going to ask Minerva?"

Artemis, who had been sipping tea, choked and barely kept himself from spitting the scalding liquid out, grasping the table for support.

"You can't be serious!" He finally gasped. "She's fifteen years old, and in France! We've barely spoken since I left Limbo!"

"I don't see a problem," she quipped, shrugging, "you two seem like you're meant for each other. She talked with Domovoi and I quite frequently in your absence¸ if you've forgotten."

"Predestined love is nothing more than a poor farce." He countered with a grimace. "And while I do concede that asking her has crossed my mind, the logistics are nightmarish. The dance is in less than a week. No, I'm afraid it won't work."

Juliet, at first pouty, soon developed a devious, conspiratorial grin, and glanced to Butler, who chuckled and shook his head knowingly. Finally, she turned on Artemis once more, her expression giddy.

"So it's Holly, then."

Artemis, already blushing, turned an even darker shade of crimson, his eyes dropping to the mahogany.

"I… yes, I suppose it is. The logistics are perhaps even more nightmarish than they would be with Minerva, I suppose, but… some things are worth the trouble."

"You need me to what?" Foaly asked, turning away from his archaic keyboard with a blank look on his equine face. "I must've heard you wrong."

Artemis scowled. Not this again.

"I need your advice." He repeated, still softly.

Adjusting his tin hat and clopping across the office towards him, the centaur leaned closely towards Artemis cupping a hand over his ear.

"I'm sorry, Artemis, what was that you said? A little louder?"

"I need…"

Interrupting him, Foaly held up a hand as he grabbed a throat microphone and placed it squarely over Artemis' Adam's Apple, linking it up to LEP Headquarters' speaker system with a few taps on his keyboard.

"Okay, there we are. Go ahead."

Fuming, he started again, his voice echoing throughout the building.

"Foaly, I need your help."

Though he managed to contain himself during the proclamation itself, the moment Artemis finished and ripped the mic off, the centaur nearly fell over laughing, taking almost a minute to compose himself.

"Marvelous, simply marvelous, Artemis! I live for opportunities like that, you know."

"Oh, I know. Should I be surprised if footage of that somehow appears on your website?"

"Hm? ? No, not at all, but you really can't blame me. Now, with all due respect to your request, which, I assure you, I am honored to receive, let's get to it. What facet of my manifold expertise do you wish to consult? Thinking about conquering the world? Living forever? Becoming a fairy? Finally marketing the Eternity Cube?"

Once more flushed, Artemis paused, hesitating for several agonizing seconds before finally replying.

"How about talking to women?"

For once at a loss for words, Foaly was silent for a while, his expression a mix of shock and confusion, before he sat down at his desk and beckoned Artemis over.

"Pull up a chair. This might take a while."

"Now I hope you realize," he began once Artemis had complied, clasping his hands together, "that I am the last fairy in Haven that you should be asking about this."

Artemis raised a doubting eyebrow.

"Okay, okay, besides maybe Grub Kelp, I guess. And Chix. And Mulch. But you get my point."

"Foaly, you have a wife. You have Caballine. Clearly, you've done something right. How did… how did you talk to her? How did you ask her on your first date?"

"Well… she asked me."

"I see."

The centaur frowned, setting aside his tin hat and rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable.

"Perhaps… it would help if I knew whom you were thinking of asking?"

Artemis looked his friend dead in the eyes, the awkwardness and embarrassment vanished from his face and voice.

"Foaly, you know who."

Flowers. Two of the smartest individuals on earth had discussed how best to woo a LEPRecon captain for two hours, and they had come up with flowers. Granted, they weren't the entirety of the plan that he and Foaly had devised, but their clichéd nature still made him uncomfortable holding the bouquet. It's not going to work, Artemis told himself a hundred, no, a thousand times as he paced back and forth across the moonlit grass. She'll laugh, or cry, or take me for a fool, or worse. She'll never speak to me again. And yet just when he had begun to reconsider the plan entirely, doubting everything and opening his cellphone to call the whole thing off, Holly was behind him, having lighted on the riverbank without a sound.

"I know you said you needed to talk to me," She began, folding her wings, "but you could've picked somewhere a little less remote, Arty."

His heart skipped a beat at the sound of his name on her lips, and with a sharp breath he drew the flowers behind his back. Has she forgotten…? Holly frowned, genuine concern on her face.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, it's just… don't you recognize…"

"Recognize wh…" Glancing about herself, she paused midsentence, gasping as her eyes moved from the river to the oak to the full moon above them, and finally back to the young man standing before her. "Artemis… this is…"

"Where we first met." He finished with a nervous smile, his face growing hot.

"Where you first kidnapped me." She chuckled, shaking her head and closing her eyes, breathing in deeply as she took in the scene around her. "Yes, I remember very well."

Now or never. Do or die. Act or be forgotten. When Holly opened her eyes, Artemis had extended the bouquet of flowers before him, and was scarlet enough to give Julius Root a run for his money. In his sweat-slicked right hand he clutched a crumpled script from which his eyes flicked back and forth.

"Oh…"

"Holly… we first met each other here. And now, many years and many trials later, once again, here we stand, you with the moonlight in your hair and I with flowers in my hand. A chrysanthemum, golden for the ransom that first brought us together. A white rose for the Siberian snows that forged our friendship, and a red one for the skies of Limbo, for the blood that I saw you shed in the ashes when Abbot drove a sword through your ribs. A forget-me-not for the Atlantis Complex in which I nearly lost myself, and so doing nearly lost you. A…"

Holly interrupted him with a fierce embrace.

"Artemis," she whispered, "drop the piece of paper and look at me."

He did so without a moment's hesitation, struggling to keep himself from trembling.

"Holly, I…"

"Shhh." She laid a finger across his lips. Her eyes became distant, misty, as if recalling a half-remembered dream. Oh no, she is going to cry. All at once she looked back to him, her gaze piercing him, staring into his heart, his mind, his soul. "Close your eyes if you love me." She whispered, smiling, half to him and half to herself.

To whom she spoke didn't matter, though. Artemis closed his eyes, still trembling as she pressed her lips on his cheek.

"Will you…" he swallowed. "grads?"

"Of course I will, Arty."

Though he had hoped that the anxiety would subside for the remainder of the week leading up to the dance, Artemis Fowl, for once in his life, could not seem to remain composed as the days and hours ticked by, unable to concentrate on his classes at school (he had even made a mistake on an advanced calculus exam) and unwilling to broach the subject of the impending event at home; Juliet Butler and Beckett Fowl, of course, were always happy to do so for him. And thus the next four days passed in utter misery, his thoughts consumed by the dance, by finding the proper tuxedo and corsage, by booking the correct dinner reservations, by Holly Short and everything she meant to him.

Artemis had long felt drawn to her, enraptured by her, and more than once taken by her, but their past kisses and flirtation seemed to be little more than distant memories; now was real, now was raw, now meant something. Such thoughts as these swirled through the mind of Artemis Fowl as he stood on his driveway, watching Holly Short step out of a cloaked shuttle in the most beautiful dress he had ever seen, sleek green satin with whorls of silver, with Foaly at her side. Behind him, Juliet squealed, and Butler whistled softly. Beckett whispered something to Myles that made them both giggle, while Angeline and Artemis Senior stood beaming.

"You take good care of her," Foaly said proudly, clapping him on the back, "she's the only one we've got."

As the others laughed, though, the centaur drew him aside and murmured in his ear:

"She has fake human ears, and I gave her tinted iris cams to negate the heterochromy, but I can't do anything about her height; hopefully no one will think anything of it, though. In case anything goes terribly wrong, which does tend to happen around you two, she has a Neutrino 3000 and a blanket mind wipe sphere stashed in that dress."

"Thank you, Foaly. I can only hope that none of it will be necessary."

"Me too, my friend. Me too. Break an arm, Artemis."

"The expression is 'break a leg'.

"You Mud People and your expressions. You know what I mean, I'm happy for you! Now get out there and make me proud."

At that Foaly returned to the shuttle and took his leave, leaving Holly in her beautiful dress with Artemis in his cramped tuxedo, and the rest of the Fowl household. He had eventually decided with Holly on a simple dinner at Fowl Manor, nothing elaborate. They talked, they ate, they tentatively held hands, they withstood Beckett and Juliet's interrogations and Butler's stories about them, and before Artemis knew it, they were standing before St. Bartleby's, hand in hand as they prepared to enter.

"You're still shaking." Holly said, her eyebrows knitted in concern. "I swear, Arty, you've been shaking all week. You nearly dropped your plate at dinner."

Butler spoke up from in front of them, where he stood watch beneath the gates; with a few curt phone conversations with school officials, Artemis had easily secured his bodyguard a place as bouncer for the night.

"Calm yourself, Artemis. Focus only on what is in front of you, as I taught you."

His ward chuckled.

"What's in front of me, dear friend, is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

They all laughed at that, but before they could talk more, the growing crowd ushered them under the archway, and into the main courtyard, where the dance was held each year. At the center, several couples had already begun to sway together to a slow, steady beat, and it was here that the tide of lovers brought them.

"Take my arm, Artemis, and my back."

After freezing for half a moment, he quickly followed her lead, and so the night began, though as they moved about, sometimes gracefully and sometimes with much tripping and foot-stepping-on, his mind never truly ceased to reflect on how beautiful Holly was. They lost themselves in each other's eyes, for each understood the other perfectly after undergoing so much together. Though through the hours they rarely spoke, everything that they had endured, every pain and misfortune, every doubt and bitter feeling, every triumph and celebration, was free and open between them; there were no more barriers, no more masking feelings, no more questionings, no more doubts. Though he had never been a spiritual individual, Artemis felt for the first time in his years fulfilled. He had no need to try and understand what history's great prophets and saints had found, for here in this moment with Holly, here was his own Nirvana, his own Heaven.

Finally came the night's final song, the slowest one, a lover's ballad. Holly wrapped her arms around him, nestled her head under his, and together they swayed in the moonlight.

"Do you remember the gorilla cage?" She asked, gazing up at him.

"How could I forget?"

"Do you remember what I said afterward? How I tried to bury it all?"

"Of course."

She sighed, and drew him closer.

"It was real, Artemis. The kiss, the passion, everything. I was just… so afraid that I would get caught up in something too big for me, too dangerous, that you could get hurt. Then Minerva came in, and I was afraid that you… everything just got so complicated, I…"

He kissed her. It seemed to last forever; indeed, when the song had ended they had still not broken apart. When they finally withdrew together, he couldn't help but chuckle.

"So much for my Elf-kissing days being over, I suppose."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Mud Boy." She returned with a grin, squeezing his hand as they walked out the gate together; Artemis wasn't trembling anymore.