Thanks to: 2whitie, Steinbock, Sandd, Crazy Female LEPrecon and HolidayBoredom for the reviews.

WARNING: Flippin' heck I think I've actually got round to posting what could've been the second chapter, if I'm truly honest. Hope you enjoyed the nine chapter back-story :)

CHAPTER TEN

Plan A

DUBLIN AIRPORT, DUBLIN, IRELAND – PRESENT DAY

Juliet Butler blinked the jetlag from her eyes and looked around for her brother. Anyone would think it would be easy to catch sight of the huge Eurasian, but Madame Ko taught them well in the art of remaining inconspicuous. Sure enough, since she knew where to look, she saw his profile, disguised against a pillar so as to negate the difference of his height to those around him.

She headed over to him and he acknowledged her, meeting her half-way.

"Hey, bro," she smiled, reaching up and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Butler patted her on the back slightly awkwardly. People stared enough at him as it was without drawing attention to themselves. When Juliet had been younger and suffering from a sprained ankle, he had slung her over his shoulder without a second thought and headed for the car as a steady jog. Of course, her hitting him and yelling at him to put her down had had a few well-meaning members of the public teaming up to try to stop the 'kidnapper'. If they had listened more carefully, they might've heard that the girl was yelling about being fine to walk on her own and that her ankle only collapsed if she put over 45% of her weight on it...

"Hey, sis," he returned, pushing her to arm's length and checking her over. No recent injuries stood out to his attentive 'big brother' eyes. "How are you?"

"Fine, ta. Little tired but hey-ho, ten hour flight to sleep on."

Butler nodded. "It leaves in about an hour. You wanting a brew or something?"

"That'd be awesome," Juliet grinned.

They walked together through the open building of the airport and ordered take-out cups of tea from the nearest café and somehow Juliet refrained from asking until they were sat in the departures lounge.

"So. This source… are they reliable, or is this probably just a wild goose chase?"

Butler felt a memory resurface at the end of the question. Artemis had used the phrase when they had been looking for fairies at the very start of all this. Butler almost began to wish they'd never taken Nguyen Xuan up on his offer. But then he would never have had the adventures or met the people he had.

And you wouldn't be sat in an airport, waiting for a plane to take you to search for the charge you lost with your little sister who discreetly thinks you're losing your marbles… muttered his sarcastic side.

"Hey? Coo-ee? Anybody in there?"

Scratch the 'discreetly'.

"No. I think it won't be. This guy rarely makes mistakes."

"Well, anything for an adventure with my big bro," Juliet grinned.

Her brother scowled. "It's not an 'adventure', Juliet. If anything, it may be a rescue mission."

"I know, thanks, idiota," Juliet muttered. "I was just trying to lighten the mood."

They both remained stubbornly silent, refusing to apologise to each other. But each knew the other was grumpy from lack of sleep and excess anxiety and so eventually Juliet reached up and tugged at the hat her brother was wearing. She had noticed the back of his neck had a little more shadow on it than usual.

"You growing your hair out?" she asked, interestedly. Her brother had never had more than a light covering of hair on his head the whole time she had known him, but she had seen the photos of him with a good crop of hair as a teenager in the months between the academy training. She could never decide if she liked it. The brotherly-side of him sort of suited him. But she had always known him as predominately the professional and any hair on his head had always seemed alien. Likely he had just not been shaving recently, rather than purposely letting it grow.

"Maybe," Butler shrugged. "It's cold in Russia."

And Juliet laughed at him and all was forgiven instantly.

Being related was good like that.

MURMANSK, NORTHERN RUSSIA – PRESENT DAY

Ten and a half hours later, they touched down in Murmansk and, after a short disagreement which Juliet invariably won, booked themselves into a small, rundown hotel near to the area Foaly had given him as Artemis's location.

"We all need to sleep, Dom. Even you. And even if you claim you don't, I'm knackered and you know what I get like if I don't get my beauty sleep, hmm?"

And so her brother had conceded. His sister was scarily like their mother sometimes. Odd, since she had barely known her, really.

They bedded down for the night in the twin room and slept. It was the best rest either of them had had in weeks, content in the knowledge that there was nothing that would get past either of them, even whilst they were asleep.

Even so, Butler was up early. Which was lucky, because Foaly rang him with more information.

"Morning, mudman," was the centaur's bright greeting.

"Anything new?" Butler said quietly, checking Juliet was still asleep.

She was, sprawled out on her bed and snoring quietly. He smiled slightly, closing the bathroom door and sitting on the edge of the bath. It was plastic and creaked ominously, but it held.

This time Foaly ignored the lack of manners. "Only that we still don't have word on Holly, but this version of Artemis Fowl is a worker on the docks. Fisherman. Living… here," Foaly sent the links to an online map to Butler's phone. "You reckon Arty would even touch fish guts?"

"Seems unlikely," Butler shrugged. "But if he's had forty-odd years to retrain himself, then maybe."

"And in case you're wondering, no. The mudboy didn't find himself a Russian lady, although there are another two males living with him. Unrelated to him, from our records. But living in the same house. You might want to look out for that," Foaly explained. "How are you planning to do this?"

"If it's him, I doubt he'd mind the visit. If it's not, it'll simply be a misunderstanding."

"Fair enough, though I suggest you go at night. The house is mostly empty during the day."

Butler ground his teeth slightly in annoyance. It was barely dawn. They'd have to wait. But that could turn out alright. Get a surveillance post set up, see that they weren't walking into some sort of trap. He wouldn't put it past some of his enemies to lure him in this way.

"Understood. Thanks for the info."

"No problem," Foaly said, sincere for once. "And Butler?"

"Yes?"

"I hope it's him."

"Me too," muttered the bodyguard as he hung up. "Me too."

Later

The fish market was as busy as ever.

Art and Zory had had a good day's fishing. They would have enough to sell and for the table. A good thing now that Zory's grandfather, Aramazd, had been forced to stop working. Arthritis, mostly. And since Art was there to help now, he felt as though he could. Zory was nearly sixteen now, determined to help them in any way he could. Alone, even for someone as big as Art, it would be difficult to man the small fishing boat they had and so Zory was a welcome pair of extra hands.

Over the past four years, Art had earned his place in the family and Aramazd often secretly wondered how they ever got by without him.

It had been a long morning of fishing and a long afternoon's bartering for the best prices, but they had eventually struck a good deal. They might not need to go fishing for a whole week.

"Boat needs a new rudder cable," Art grunted. "You think Kazoi will have something for us?"

"Course he will. What doesn't Kazoi have?" Zory laughed, mood lightened from their rare good fortune.

"True."

The pair, one huge, one small, made their way to the mechanics and, after some negotiation, bought a rudder cable. It took the rest of the afternoon to fit, working together with four years' worth of teamwork.

Art did most of the work, dredging up some hidden knowledge, as he often did. This time it was boat mechanics. Another time it might be first aid. It was always useful, the things he managed to remember. But it was never anything of vital importance.

Zory handed him the tools, watching intently. He had every intention of studying to become a doctor. But the education fees were high. And they were poor. He needed all the knowledge he could get in case his first career choice didn't work out.

The angle was awkward and, really, The Cormorant should have been pulled from the water for a job like this. But that would take time and they would have to hire a trailer and possibly man-power to pull her out. Wasted money when Art could fix it without the hassle. Apparently he'd done it before, but he couldn't for the life of him remember where or when.

He leant down into the engine-hold and twisted a screwdriver around, prepping the cable-housing for the new one.

"Pass me the new one… Zory," he asked, holding his arm back at an awkward angle to grab the cable. A boat leaving the harbour sent a wave slamming into the side of the boat and for some reason, he had almost called Zory an entirely different name. He nearly called him… but then it was gone, leaving only the annoying frustration of a blank mind.

Zory noticed him freeze, knowing instantly what was happening to his friend. Flashbacks affected him a lot. Sometimes at really bad moments too. Such as one that had ended with him going overboard when he froze as the fishing boat's crane arm had swung towards him, fully loaded and crashed into him, forcing Zory to take control the boat and turn it round to pick him up again. It hadn't been funny at the time, but when they relayed it to Aramazd, he had brought quite a coughing fit upon himself laughing at the pair of them.

This time, Art froze with his arm bent back at the angle that must've triggered the memory, or maybe it was the sentence, or the fixing the rudder cable. Whatever it was, the big man was locked in his own memories and Zory could only wait until he 'woke up' again.

"Pass me the new one, boy!" he roared, the waves crashing against the side of the boat and spinning them even further out of control.

"Here," a face too in shadow for him to see forced the cable into his hand. "And I found a screwdriver. Should be easier than using a knife."

"Good lad," he told him. If he could get this fixed, at least they could steady the boat, then maybe they could start to plot a course back to shore. In this weather, simply having control at all would be a good start. How even a simple fishing trip could turn into a life-threatening situation, he didn't know. The weather reports had been certain the tail end of the hurricane would miss them entirely, yet here they were, barely staying afloat on a raging sea like a bottle- cap in a blender.

"Do you need a hand?" the other asked, handing him a pencil torch.

He put it between his teeth and spoke around it. "I can manage. Go see to the Fowls. My Artemis won't want yours spewing all over the cabin but the last thing we need is them deciding to make a trip above deck and going overboard."

"Yes, Uncle," the younger man said, disappearing back up the steps.

He turned back to the task at hand. Fortunately, Ko had taught them a lot more than basic mechanics back at the Academy…

Art blinked. Back in the present. The feelings lingered slightly, accompanied by a burst of adrenaline that made his hands shake momentarily. He rolled his shoulders, throwing the feeling and continued working on the rudder cable without commenting on the incident. But of course, Zory had noticed.

"Art? You alright?"

"Fine. Just a flashback."

"Anything interesting?"

"Not particularly. Something to do with me fixing a rudder cable of another boat. The names Artemis and Fowl came up again."

"Was… was your nephew there?" Zory asked a little tentatively. Sometimes Art got annoyed when he asked too many questions and would start muttering in English about 'kids today' and 'The Academy'.

But eventually, once they go to know eachother, Art had told Zory about the boy, or man, who appeared in most of his flashbacks and who would call him 'Uncle'. He never saw his face properly. He had never seen the faces of any of the people in his memories. A few times there had been a little boy who called him a name Art could never remember when he 'woke-up' again. Something army-like. A rank, perhaps. Not his true name, though. But for some reason Art thought that the person wasn't supposed to know his real name. Other times a raven-haired man would call him the same. Perhaps it was even the same person at different times in his life. And then, more than just once or twice, there had been a young girl who also called him 'Uncle'.

His worst flashback had come the night after a fishing boat had been lost at sea. He had awoken in the darkness yelling and shouting and, even though he had completely dismissed it later, with his face damp with tears. According to Zory, who had entered his room armed with a hunk of wood from the fireplace, expecting to find him being attacked, he had been shouting in English – a language he barely used nowadays unless selling to tourists, and Murmansk was not so popular on that front. Aramazd, quite deaf in his old age, hadn't woken early enough to decipher what he was saying and the only word Zory could repeat with confidence was that Art had been shouting for 'Beck', whatever that was. None of the definitions in his grandfather's English-Russian translation book had made any sense. Why would Art have been shouting about a 'small river'?

"Yes, he was there," Art admitted. "Handing me tools and things. Just like you are now."

Zory smiled at that – being compared to Art's mysterious nephew. He had long since begun to consider the stranger to the village as the uncle he had never had, or the father he had never known. And to be compared to a family member, or at least an ex-family member, was quite an honour for the boy.

"You were in a boat again?" he asked, interestedly.

"Yes, being around the sea seems to bring back memories."

It was true. He hardly ever had flashbacks anywhere else. Although once he had resurfaced from one laughing. The boy that called him something to do with the army had been attempting to cook in this one and apparently, Zory's rather ill-fated attempt at soup-making had triggered the recall.

Originally they had hoped that on his second awakening on the first day, he would at least remember his name, maybe more. As it happened he had woken on the second day with, if possible, even less memory of who he was, where he had come from or anything else to do with his life before he had washed ashore and Zory had found him.

Immediately he had been certain that 'Artemis' was not his name. But they had nothing else to call him. Still 'Artemis' seemed far too posh a name to call the tough, rugged, life-worn man before them. It had been Zory that had decided on the name 'Art'. Short and simple. Still, it took a while for the man to react to it as his new name, like a rescue dog that had been given a new one. For some reason he reacted to other names or words, often ones beginning with 'M', but they could never work out exactly what triggered it and so the name 'Art' stuck.

They finished the repairs and walked home, Art lugging their share of the night's catch and the money they had sold the rest for, Zory bringing one of their best nets and other things they didn't want to leave in the less-than-secure fishingboat.

"Good trip?" Aramazd asked them as they stomped snow off their boots and left them by the front door.

"Brilliant, actually, Grandpa," Zory told him, starting to pack away their haul. "And we fixed the rudder-cable. Gave Art a flashback though."

"Really? Anything interesting, Art?"

Art grunted non-committally, but Zory filled in for him.

"Nothing new. Except that at some point in his life he's fixed another boat's rudder-cable."

"Is that true Art?"

Art shrugged. He rarely liked to talk about his lost life. "In the middle of a storm, I think. At least that's what it felt like."

"Why am I not surprised, man?" Aramazd laughed. "You seem to have done everything in that old life of yours."

"Perhaps. But I don't remember it," Art tried to smile, but whenever he thought long enough about his past life, he felt angry at the loss. He was sure that the memories were there. They were just locked away. Not having full control of his mind left him feeling frustrated, despite the fact that he knew he was lucky to have survived the injury that had caused the massive, dented scar in his skull, at all.

"You haven't had any flashbacks about being an astronaut yet," Zory chipped in helpfully.

That brought an approximation of a true smile to Art's face and Aramazd laughed again as they settled down to their evening meal. From outside, too far away to make out anything but their silhouettes on the curtains, two people watched.

The rest of the day had been spent by the two Butlers, staring through the eyepieces of binoculars at the addresses Foaly had given them for the residence of 'Artemis Fowl'. Unfortunately for them, by the time two of the males returned to the house they were watching, it had been too dark to see them properly.

"Now what?" Juliet asked. "We just wander on down there and say, 'Hey, do you know where Artemis Fowl is?'"

"Well that's Plan A," Butler muttered.

"That smaller one could've even been him for all we can see up here."

Butler 'hmm'-ed thoughtfully. Foaly had said Artemis should be older. Yet the larger man had seemed too big to be any age of Artemis and the smaller one had seemed a lot more likely. Of course there was the chance that this was all a mix up. A coincidence of names. But Butlers never liked to rely on coincidences.

"We might as well get closer. Like you said, it's hard to tell from up here."

They stood in unison and brushed down the dust off their clothes. They had been hiding in the third floor of an old factory, perfectly positioned to watch the house and anyone who entered or left it. As it was, they had only seen an old man stumble out with a bag of rubbish around midday. He had gone back inside almost immediately and they hadn't seen him since. Butler had watched him like a hawk, but he looked nothing like his charge and was far too old, even with the forty-or-so years Foaly thought would be added by the time-tunnel trip.

"You know, I think the boy might've been him, Dom. I really do. From what I could tell, dark hair, slight build… the only thing I could think that it couldn't be him for is that he was carrying all that stuff…"

Juliet was trying to be optimistic and keep her brother hopeful, but really, why wouldn't Artemis have tried to contact them? It didn't seem like he was kidnapped. But who knew how the people were treating him. He seemed alright though. Maybe he had even managed to get a bit fitter, gained a few more muscles, than he had been before he had disappeared. Or at least that's what it looked like from a distance.

They made their way down the fire escape they'd climbed up earlier and dropped silently into the street. Then they shouldered their packs and stepped out onto the pavement, silent as shadows. If ever there was a time to be apprehensive, this was it. But, being Butlers, they didn't show it.

And then, so suddenly that Juliet nearly winded herself, Butler flung out an arm to stop her in her tracks.

Any normal teenage sister might've hit her brother for the incident and exclaimed loudly. But Juliet was far too well trained for that. Butler turned and began to walk along the path instead of crossing the road.

"Just keep walking," he muttered. "Don't look at the house. Just walk."

And, thankfully, Juliet was also too well trained to submit to the urge to spin round for a glance at the building they had been heading for. Or at the blacked-out 4x4 that had pulled up, just round the corner from it.

Well, I know that was shorter, but I hope it's a good thing I've finally got back round to the actual story haha :)

Won't be another update till Monday probably so hope you enjoyed that one,

Wolfy
ooo
 O

08-06-12