Author's Note: This is a piece from a much larger idea bouncing around my head. I can't promise I'll be able to update it with anything resembling regularity, though, as I have a lot stuff on my plate, and only so many hours in the day. Do bear with me!

Chapter 1

There were times that Artemis Fowl was not fond of Reginald Davies. His neighbor from the floor below was the prototypical party animal; if not out on the town at some raucous party... he was hosting such a party and making an unholy racket as late as the complex's policies allowed.

He was hosting one such party right now, and it tied into the times that didn't fall under the above sentiment; times that Artemis Fowl really despised Reginald Davies. These were the times that he wished he had refused his parent's insistence and bought his own home, well out in the country, where the only requirements to leave would be when he was required by his colleagues to attend a presentation of one of his many thesis.

"But you are such a vibrant young man! You should not be a recluse!" His mother had said. "Even if you are a professor in your own right, it will do you good to be around people your age for once!"

"She's right, Arty." His father had agreed. "Just entertain your old parents this one time. After your first lease expires, then we'll sit silent as you hide away in the countryside. I'm sure you won't find it nearly as loathsome as you believe."

Artemis doubted either of them anticipated a lower neighbor like Reginald Davies, either that or they grossly overestimated the maturity of twenty-two year olds.

A knock on his door prompted Artemis to glower balefully at the door before burying his nose back into the work he was pretending to do. His block had little to do with the party downstairs – he had completed an entire doctorate thesis in a single night through such a party – but it made for a good scapegoat for his fugue.

The knock sounded again, and Artemis ignored it. Even if he wasn't trying to work, he was in no mood for visitors... or more accurately in less of a mood for visitors than normal. Hadn't been in much mood for people the last twenty-seven days, and even reported to Oxford that he was ill once to avoid having to interact with other human beings. Again, that had nothing to do with the party going on downstairs.

Artemis Fowl, genius, entrepreneur, professor of seven disciplines, multi-millionaire of his own merits before even counting any wealth he would inherit from his family, one of the UK's 50 most eligible bachelors by Page 3 reckoning – or as Reginald Davies would call it a man that makes a woman's chest rise, and her panties drop – was nursing a broken heart.

Yes, the mighty Artemis Fowl, heartbroken. No doubt there were several fools who would pay good money to see him in such a wretched state. For whether or not the myth that he causes heaving bosoms and falling knickers was true or not, there was really only one heart that he had been interested in...

"We're from two different worlds, Arty. My people would never allow it, even if I wanted to. I am so very sorry. I shouldn't have led you on like this. I didn't realize how deep your affections had become. I shouldn't have hung around this long anyway. Frond, I'm so very sorry. I won't talk to you again. I won't blame you for thinking terrible things about me. I deserve it. Bye. Umm... yeah. Bye."

That had been the last words he had heard from the enchanting little elf called Holly Short, twenty-seven days prior. And if that wasn't bad enough, the one time he had tried to use some backdoor channels to find her, it had landed him in call with Foaly, and the impression that Holly had taken on what amounted to a suicide mission to infiltrate the Fey Den, whatever and wherever that was. All Artemis could gather was that not even the People knew much about it anymore other than it was a scary place that they all mostly pretended didn't really exist.

So not only was he heartbroken, he was also worried sick for his best friend... and only love.

To put it not so bluntly; Artemis Fowl II was a mess.

Again the rapping of his door crept to his ears over the muffled sound of the party upstairs. It sounded a fourth time before irritation finally compelled him to answer whatever simpleton was being so damned persistent, and a fifth before he reached the door, opening it as far as the still attached chain would allow.

"What in the name of God do you want?" He snarled gruffly even before he identified the visitor.

Reginald Davies.

Artemis attempted to slam the door, but found himself thwarted by Reginald's shoulder nudging into the doorway. "Now, Fowl... easy there, mate!" He hastily said with far too much cheer for Artemis's sensibilities. "I couldn't help but notice you've been cooped up in here for the better part of a month, now."

"That's not true." Artemis growled.

"Lecturing at the college twice a week does not constitute 'getting out'. It's getting rather depressing, honestly."

"That would be a first for you, I'm sure."

"What are you doing in here, anyway? Aren't you bored out of your skull?"

"No."

"Are you like moping over a break-up or something? I've got at least a score of ladies downstairs that would love to meet you!"

Artemis's teeth ground angrily, "You know nothing." He then tried to force Reginald out of his doorway, but despite actually putting some effort into his physical strength over the years, he was never going to be confused for a physically dominating specimen.

"I know quite a bit, mate." Reginald answered. That was quite true, to be fair. Reginald was a promising graduate student at Saïd Business School. While certainly not a man of Artemis's genius, Reginald was hardly a complete imbecile, even if he seemed hellbent on looking like one at any given moment. "And I know when a man is hurting. You're a bottle of stale liquor from the very picture of heartbreak."

This was as earnest and serious as Artemis could ever remember his neighbor.

"This isn't normal for you. Nor is it healthy. You don't need to hop in bed with the first girl that catches your eye, but sitting here moping and wallowing in your misery isn't any better. Come on downstairs. Just for an hour. Get some air that isn't heavy."

"You're not going to leave until I agree, is that it?"

Reginald shrugged. "That's the short of it, yes."

Artemis sighed. This is what he's been reduced to. A man so pathetic and broken that he was actually going to attend a party. "Let me wash up and change. I'll be down in thirty minutes."

Reginald at that point retreated with a parting, "I'm coming after you in a half hour!"

Artemis morosely shut the door and retreated to the washroom, wholly unaware that he had set someone else's plan in motion. And had he been of sharper awareness, he likely would have noticed the slight purple ring of mesmer tinting the edges of Reginald's eyes.

There were two elements to a Reginald Davies party, it turned out.

One of them he was already aware of; loud upbeat music, the drone of chit chat over said music, liberally flowing liquor, wine, and spirits, the slight hint of tobacco from the part of the flat he designated for smokers, and possibly the sweet smell of marijuana if he didn't miss his guess.

But the second part had surprised him. He had suspected that showing up to this party in Armani would make him horribly overdressed for the occasion, and had been planning on it. Instead, he fit right in with the rest of the clientele, and he found that rather annoyed him. Evening dresses, suits, and black ties were not just the standard... they appeared to be required.

As such, he found he was infinitely more approachable than he wanted to be; having to shrug off the advances of four women in the last fifteen minutes.

"And what was wrong with that one, eh?" Reginald asked after Artemis had shrugged off the latest moth to his flame.

"Nothing." Artemis had answered.

She was hardly ugly, nor had she come across as shallow or vapid. He had no doubt she was quite intelligent; if he remembered the face, she was working on a second doctorate in neuroscience research to go along with her MD; quite remarkable for a twenty-five year old woman that didn't have the name Fowl.

He took another slow sip of the islay scotch that had literally been dropped in front of him. It wasn't a bad drink, though not what he was accustomed to. The same could have been said for the lady in question. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her. It was merely that her hair was gold, not copper. Her skin alabaster rather than almond. And while the girl was no doubt as magical in bed as she claimed, she wasn't literally magical.

It wasn't her fault. She simply wasn't Holly.

Reginald shook his head. "Alright, mate. I did say you only had to come down. I didn't say you had to mingle. I shouldn't pressure you. I'll leave you b... hello there..."

Reginald's head had jerked to the front door, where apparently another guest had arrived. Artemis's head followed, instinctive curiosity from Reginald's reaction, only to fight back his eyes from dislodging themselves from his skull to get a closer look.

The arrival had just handed her black crop jacket to the doorman, highlighting every curve that was fully flattered by the tight black single-shoulder dress the woman wore. It went well with her deeply tanned complexion and coppery red hair that fell into a shoulder length bob. The skirt was slitted thigh high on her left side, giving more than a very good view of toned shapely legs and she dutifully stepped into the flat like she owned it. Hazel eyes surveyed the scene before spotting the long L shaped bar at the southwest corner of the main room and took a beeline through the crowd, claiming the central stool for her own and ordering something from the uniformed male manning the bar.

It couldn't be what Artemis was thinking. First of all, the woman who had arrived was at least 5'6", and her ears were most certainly not pointed. But the LEP had technology that could hide that...

Artemis shook his head rapidly. Now was not the time to be silly. The sort of magic and technology required for that level of subterfuge would have set off several alarms in his flat and relayed to him through any one of three methods... one of them devised from LEP comm methods itself.

The girl seemed to notice Artemis boring holes into her with his eyes. She took the wine glass filled with a rich red liquid, then flashed him a smile with twinkling eyes as she took her first sip, keeping eye contact until she sat the glass down, and reached into her purse, providing a paper note as a tip to the bartender.

Artemis had noted movement in an obscure Swiss account he had set up for Holly whenever she had taken... unapproved visits to the surface; withdrawls could only be made through specific ATMs that Artemis knew were clean and cash only. That had been ten days ago, drawn from an ATM in Dorset; and had prompted Artemis's failed attempt to contact Holly through back channels. Ten days was more than enough time to...

Again Artemis slammed the breaks on that train of thought. It didn't matter that Holly had withdrew money in Dorset ten days ago in this case. If this woman had been Holly, he would know. An elf doesn't just turn into a human girl without some trick that he would be able to detect. There was no enchantment or camouflage here; just an attractive young lady who bore a very strong resemblance to Holly. That's all.

The girl took another sip, again locked eyes with Artemis, and raised her eyebrows questioningly, followed by another teasing grin.

A very, very strong resemblance to Holly...

"Aye, that girl's a looker, isn't she?" Reginald said, noting Artemis's rapt attention. "Not familiar though, and trust me, I'd know if I saw a lady like that around town. Do you know her, perhaps?"

Artemis shook his head. "No. I don't think so."

"Must be someone's date then, I'm guessing. She got through the doorman, and I sent the invitations personally." Then his eyes momentarily glazed over, and when they focused again, he remarked, "Or... wait... no... now I remember! Prospective grad student, doing tours of colleges. Bumped into her two days ago. Odd that I had forgotten."

Had Artemis actually been listening, he might have noticed the mesmer suggestion for what it was, and would have remembered that a subtle enough mesmer wouldn't register above the background magical noise of the city, and thus not set off his personal alert system. It would have made him more wary, and he probably wouldn't have done what he was about to do.

He threw back the remainder of his scotch, feeling the burn all the way down his throat, and convincing him that he wasn't dreaming. He stood as a well dressed man in pinstripes approached the woman, who dismissed him without even looking in his direction, her attention still focused intently on Artemis.

The fellow retreated, duly rejected, as Reginald looked up. "Gonna give it a go, mate? Luck o' the Irish to you, and all that."

As Artemis made his move, the business student whispered in prayer, "Lord, guide thy foolish servant, for he knows not what he does."

The first thing Artemis noticed upon getting closer was the woman's rose colored lipstick. Holly wore that very same color whenever she prettied herself up. She looked up expectantly at him once he finished his approach, stopping four feet from where she was sitting. Momentarily breaking eye contact to address the barkeeper, she pointed at her glass, and said, "One more like this for my... friend, if you could?"

Damn it, that was Holly's voice too, although the chamber had shifted slightly deeper due to the fact that it was coming from human-sized lungs. Artemis slapped his forehead in frustration, as if trying to beat his brain senseless for these absurd thoughts.

The movement got the attention of his quarry again, this time perplexed amusement. "Something wrong, good sir?"

Artemis was only tangentially aware of the bartender setting down a glass of wine at the bar to his left. He sighed forlornly, and finally said, "No. I apologize, madam. I... I thought you were someone else for a moment."

Artemis could almost hear Reginald in the background groan and drop his face into his palm. To be fair, Artemis wouldn't blame him. Even he felt like he was going down in flames. There were many icebreakers in human interaction... what Artemis had said was more analogous to a blast of arctic wind.

Yet, the girl seemed to be more amused by the statement, dropping her right elbow onto the bar counter, and catching her chin with that hand. Her eyes twinkled playfully, and her smile tweaked upward just a hint more. "Oh? And may I ask who you thought I was?"

Artemis grabbed the wine, taking a long drag, feeling the red grape tinted with alcohol on his tongue. Unfortunately, any courage the liquid would infer would take a good half hour to take effect, hardly of use currently.

He closed his eyes, sorting his thoughts, calming his treasonous mind. This girl wasn't who he wanted to believe she was. But that was okay. It really was time he stopped measuring people up to a standard they had no hope of meeting, and let them be who they were on their own merits. This was no doubt an intelligent, thoughtful, meaningful young woman in her own right, and had the advantage of an appearance that he knew he found appealing.

When he opened his eyes, the girl was still smiling playfully, only now had cocked one eyebrow in curiosity much like...

This time, Artemis metaphorically slapped his brain. "Stop that nonsense this instant." His logic said chidingly to his emotions.

Artemis shook his head slightly, "It doesn't matter. May I start over?"

She tilted her head in acceptance. "If you wish."

He held out his hand in greeting, and said, "Artemis Fowl, the second, to be specific. And I must say I'm much more interested in knowing who you are."

The girl took his hand gently, and now the smile broadened to reveal a set of brilliantly white teeth in a manner that Artemis likened to the Cheshire Cat of Lewis Carroll's imagination. She took one more sip of her wine, then said cheekily, "Holly."

Artemis jolted, the emotions that he had just managed to reign in thumping at the door of his brain, demanding to be let out, as the girl stood; needing to raise herself on her toes to lean into his ear and whisper, "Holly Not-So-Short-Anymore."

And at that point, every gear in his brain locked up, and he swore a blue screen of death flashed in front of his vision. His brain had one simple set of instructions for his body before it went into hard-reboot; not to release any solids or fluids, try to remain upright, and to try and not drop the drink he was holding.

The first two items on the list were, thankfully, heeded. The third, apparently, was not quite as successful, as when cognitive thought returned, he realized that Holly had stabilized the wine glass with her right hand comfortably over his left.

"Careful." She said playfully. "I'm sure that stuff is expensive."

Artemis had roughly twenty questions at that moment, and they all tried to come out at once in one flabbergasted sound. With a smile now sultry and a voice laden with honey, Holly offered, "Why don't we ditch this party and you can take me upstairs?"

He nodded dumbly, "Yes... I think we need to have a long... talk."

Holly leaned forward again, this time dropping a teasing kiss on his cheek before again leaning into his ear. She couldn't have been more suggestive without using a mesmer when she whispered, "Eventually..."