Thanks to: 2whitie, Sandd, Crazy Female LEPrecon, Shadow Huntress, Fowl Star 57, Steinbock and for the reviews - triple figures review-wise 'cause of you lot you super-ace bunch :)

WARNINGS: Some swearing. Not much. But hey, I don't know your views on the matter, but personally as long as it's not ridiculously excessive or offensive I can live with swearing. I tend to do rather a lot of it myself. And besides, I bet the Butlers are sick of censoring their language around the Fowls *...mutter... prudes...mutter...*

Right, there's a massive long A/N at the end so I won't ramble on too much now.

Onwards!

CHAPTER TWENTY

Lasting Impressions

Back at the hotel everyone was still sleeping and so The Major headed for the tiny kitchen to begin making an approximation of breakfast out of the meagre rations his niece and nephew had bought from the supermarket at the corner of the road the night they had arrived.

Just 36 hours ago.

The Major thought about what he had been doing 36 hours ago. Fixing the boat with Zory? No, he hadn't even been back in the harbour yet. They'd been out fishing. It was amazing how so little time could change everything.

With the kettle bubbling away and the smell of something vaguely appetising filling their nostrils, the sleepers began to stir.

"Fancy a jog and dip, Jules?" Butler called in the general direction of the blankets on the sofa.

At the sound of her brother's voice calling her name, Juliet's response was a barely coherent: "Urghnoogimmefihmuhminitzzz…"

The cat had followed them along the street and into the hotel forecourt. The woman on the reception desk had made as though to shoo it out but The Major had stopped her with a glance and a few words.

"He's with us."

That sounded ridiculous. As though they were bringing in a colleague, rather than just a cat.

"But sir, our policy is no pets..." she had started indignantly.

"Who says it's a pet?"

The woman whimpered an excuse but they had already climbed the stairs, the cat trotting along behind them before the receptionist could make further intelligible comment.

Now, the animal leapt onto the sofa next to the female that smelt like the two big males and mewled a welcome directly into her ear.

Like a true Butler, Juliet sat bolt upright, instantly alert and sending the animal flying. It landed and shook itself a little disgruntledly, before slinking off to investigate the rest of the room.

"Holy shit that scared the crap out of me!" she yelped. "Oooh - is that the same cat you were talking about on the phone?"

"Yep," her brother nodded, wondering if the cat would mind eating human food for the foreseeable future. He was not about to start spending money on the cheeky little vagabond.

"Aww he's gorgeous!" she cooed, sliding off the sofa and trying to make up for first impressions by waggling the end of her long plait in the direction of the cat. "Here kitty, kitty, kitty..."

"Kitty? A cat? How did you find a cat?" Zory asked sleepily.

"I'll tell you later," Butler sighed.

He was not as well-trained in the ways of dealing with inquisitive cats and Russian teenagers as he was on how to blow things up. Nor did he enjoy either of those things even nearly as much.

Over breakfast they talked. It was rather a deep conversation for the start of the day, but it was necessary and by the end of it they had a decision everyone was at least fairly happy with.

The rest of the day passed quickly, with them going back to the Kochanskii's house and patching up damage left from the night before as best they could. For now they put a throw over the damaged sofa, although Butler, as promised, managed to finally convince Aramazd to take some money towards buying a new one, or whatever else he would rather spend it on.

"It's a great conversation starter," Aramazd had argued. "Besides, you have done enough to pay for me back for it already. Keep your money."

'Convince' was a deceiving word in this case. Butler had left the money in cutlery draw for the old man to find later when he was safely 30,000ft in the air in the Lear Jet on his way back to Ireland.

They also visited the gravesite where The Major was supposed to be buried.

The graveyard was empty but for the solemn grey headstones, aligned in neat rows. It didn't take long to find the one they were looking for. There was a group along one row, all bearing the inscription 'Killed in the Attack on the good ship the Fowl Star', all standing guard over the bodies of those who hadn't had families to return to or those whose families hadn't been able to afford to have the body flown back to their country of origin. They were all identical. Nothing marked out the one which was supposed to indicate the final resting place of the faithful bodyguard of Artemis Fowl Senior as being any different to an ordinary soldier.

Zory loped ahead of them, sliding snow off the stones and reading the names.

"No... no... no... oh - here you are, Art!"

That was a strange experience to say the least. Someone shouting you over to 'your' own grave.

The adults trailing behind him caught up, Juliet sliding a cold hand over her uncle's warm one and squeezing gently. It couldn't be easy visiting the place you were supposed to be buried.

They gathered around the headstone, Zory clearing the whole of it of snow in order to read the text inscribed there. It was in Russian mostly, but the last line was in a language Zory couldn't read.

Here lies

'The Major' Butler

Bodyguard of A. Fowl

Killed in the line of duty

In the attack on the good ship the Fowl Star

Custos quiescit tandem

There were a few moments of silence. It was as though they were taking a glance into the future. The Major wasn't so affected by what he saw.

"Not a bad epitaph," he shrugged when no-one spoke for fear of what his reaction would be.

"Indeed. Interesting, the latin on the end there," Aramazd nodded. "Had you asked for that in a will?"

"No," The Major explained, gesturing to the other Butlers as he spoke. "They stick it on the bottom of all of our headstones. Family tradition. It'll be on mine. Well, my real one. And on his. And maybe even Juliet's depending on whether she decides to guard or not."

"It's fitting," said Aramazd."For you and all your family."

The Major and Butler grunted at that and muttered about it being a sentimental line and who even gave one anyway, but Zory committed the three words to memory and whispered to Juliet.

"What does it mean?"

"The Latin?" she asked quietly.

"Yes... if you don't mind telling me."

"It means: The guardian rests at last," she said, sniffing slightly.

Zory wondered for a moment if it wasn't only the chill of the wind blasting their faces that had her eyes watering slightly, but he thought it best not to ask.

The phrase certainly did suit Art's true family, after all.

"Do you want me to say anything?" Aramazd asked his friend.

"What? For him?" The Major snorted. "No. The man was a wanker."

"Art!" the old Russian frowned. "Don't speak ill of the dead."

"Sorry," The Major said gruffly, looking anything but."But he's partly the reason I lost my charge in the first place."

"Then he is partly the reason why you washed ashore and Zory found you," Aramazd said firmly. "And I for one am grateful to him for that."

The Major ducked his head, slightly ashamed at those words. "You're right. I'm sorry. But he still doesn't deserve your prayers, Aramazd."

"Everyone deserves prayers, old friend."

There was another silence in which The Major thought it was probably best not to bring up their conflicting religious views and thought of something else to say.

"I've an idea," Butler spoke up before the pair could begin arguing in earnest.

He stepped forward and toppled the headstone, turning it over and laying it flat and placating Aramazd with an open palm.

The man watched disapprovingly until Butler took out the more damaged of his knives from his boot and began scoring lines into the stone.

Onto the wrongly marked headstone he scratched the name 'Azarof Butler' and a date of death. It would've taken too long to print the details of his demise and Butler felt from what he had heard from his uncle that that man didn't deserve the family epitaph.

They didn't know anything else, but it hardly mattered when the body had been lying under a stone bearing the wrong name for the past half a decade or so.

Worming his fingers under the heavy slab of stone he stood it upright once again. On the reverse the incorrect text was upside-down now, but Butler scored through the name and title anyway, making the sure it was clear there had been a mistake.

"That do?" he said when he was done.

The others looked at it and nodded as one.

And then together they turned their backs on the now rightfully-marked grave of Azarof Butler and left it in peace once again.

The snow began to fall, filling their footsteps quickly and erasing any trace of their presence. Pretty soon only those who had specifically come to see the grave, or those nearby, would have any idea they'd been there at all.

Later

They arrived at the airport in the evening, once the Butlers had made sure Aramazd and Zory were going to be safe and well in 'Art's' absence.

This time they were flying privately in the Fowl's Lear Jet, which had been flown over once Butler had rang Ireland that morning and asked for it. He'd also asked for something else to be taken to the airport over in Ireland, but that was a surprise.

"They still use the same bird?" The Major said, surprise in his voice as they walked across the tarmac towards the plane.

He spoke calmly, despite the wide open expanse lined with windowed buildings making his recently awakened bodyguard senses twitch.

Prime sniper territory.

"Yeah, they hit some hard times financially after you and Artemis... well, you know, after the Fowl Star sank," Butler told him, going through the same checks of the buildings behind them.

"Hard times for the Fowls," The Major snorted. "Really? How bad was it? Have to cancel their thrice-annual holiday, did they?"

"No. No, it was genuinely quite bad, actually," Butler said, his tone informing his uncle that he wasn't joking. "At the worst point we were the only ones left staff-wise. And even then we weren't getting paid. It's all back now, though. Young Master Artemis is just as much of a businessman as his father."

"They sacked everyone?" The Major asked in surprise.

"Yup. And like I said, wages were in short supply for a while too."

"Well that surprises me."

"And we have another surprise for you back at the airport," Juliet grinned as they climbed the stairs into the plane, all three of them automatically checking the exterior for any foreign objects that could potentially be explosive.

"And what might that be?" The Major asked, frowning. He didn't exactly like surprises. And especially not Juliet's idea of a 'surprise'.

"Well you'll have to find out, won't you?" she said, grinning cheekily at him.

Around halfway through the flight, The Major had a go at flying and found that the controls seemed to jump into his hands. Muscle-memory. At least a bash to his head hadn't knocked the training out of them.

At the airport, though, all joy at flying was overshadowed by the presence of a certain car.

The Major was, quite honestly, speechless.

"How could I have forgotten you, baby?" he murmured, running a hand over the bonnet fondly.

"Here," Butler smiled, digging in his pocket. "You can drive."

The Major beamed like a teenager with his first car and snatched the keys out of mid-air. He opened the door, hand recognising the handle instantly, ears taking in the familiar, clean clunk of the bolts vacating their housings. Not a single squeak either, as the door moved.

"You've looked after her well," he noted, climbing in and smoothing the leather of the steering-wheel before starting the ignition. The car purred into life and, as though recognising its true owner was back in the driving seat, Butler could swear the engine sounded different to when he started it up.

"'Course," Butler shuffled slightly and coughed gruffly. "You asked me to."

"Too right I did," The Major said. "Now are you two going to stand there all day, or are you getting in?"

"No, no, it's alright Uncle," Juliet laughed. "We'll meet you at the Manor. Dom's got a right beast of a vehicle to show you."

"Really now?" The Major asked interestedly.

"Yup," Juliet said before her brother could groan at her. "You and Bertha go have a little quality time."

"Excuse me?" The Major's eyebrows raised at the use of the car's nickname and the comment's... suggestiveness.

How the hell did Juliet know he called her that? He could have sworn he'd never said it out loud in front of anyone...

He shut the door to block her laughter at the look on his face, but she tapped on the window and he buzzed it down.

"You might want to go for a drive round the block though," she finished, grinning. "When I say 'vehicle' I mean more 'tin-box-with-wheels'. You practically have to 'Flintstone' it everywhere."

The Major decided to wait to pass his own verdict on that and pulled away smoothly, brain filling in memories of the way 'home' as he went, body automatically sliding the car into second before he could even consider choosing to do so. Economical driving. Much better for the old girl - heaven knew he'd put her through enough in his time. With every movement past chases filled his mind until he was pumped with adrenaline although the car was only gliding slowly to the exit of the airport carpark. It would be a good drive home.

"I think I got him with the whole 'Bertha' thing. He so doesn't know I bugged the garage when I was nine," Juliet said conversationally. "You know, I was utterly gutted I'd never brought it up before he 'died'."

"Maybe," her brother said as they headed for their own mode of transport. "But if you're going to insult Nelly like that you're gonna find yourself walking home."

"Nelly?" Juliet stopped in her tracks. "Seriously?"

"What?" Butler asked as innocently as he could manage, wrenching open the door to the camper van, which appeared to have somewhat rusted shut over the couple of days it had been left alone. "She needed a name."

"Well yeah. But no, seriously, bro… Nelly?"

The Major was sat in a lay-by on the main road to the manor and had been for some time when the ancient VW campervan finally rattled over the hill. He laughed aloud as it trundled towards him, clanking and grumbling to itself all the while like a bad-tempered old mule. He'd always fancied buying one himself and fixing it up. Of course that would have been in an alternate reality when he actually had any spare time of his own...

His smile only broadened when he realised exactly who was crammed behind the steering-wheel and who was sat in the passenger seat with her feet propped up on the handle on the dashboard. At the passenger's pestering, the camper tooted hoarsely and The Major put the Bentley into gear. It rumbled happily in response to his urging it on and he patted the wheel fondly.

"Ah, no racing today, my dear," he told the car. "Who knows what Dom's crammed in the back of that thing to make it go?"

Looking at the acceleration rate on it as it sped up on the way past, it was most likely something highly charged and probably explosive...

And so he rumbled along behind the clapped-out van, turning off onto the familiar country lane until the great walls protecting Fowl Manor came into view. The Major watched as his nephew wound down his window and leant from the car, pressing his hand against a scanner inbuilt into one of the stone pillars.

Well that's new, The Major noted as Butler completed the security measures by typing in a code. The Major wondered if it was the same as it used to be. Then again, he'd be having words with his nephew if it was. It wouldn't be very good for security at all if the code hadn't been changed in five years.

He was disappointed to see that his nephew still hadn't managed to talk the Fowls round about the electrified cattle-grid though…

"Keep close - I told it there's two cars but sometimes the system over-reacts a bit and slams the gates on the second one," Butler called over the rattling of his engine and the purring of the Bentley.

The Major quickly narrowed the gap between them until he could read even the smallest of the bumper stickers on the rear of the van.

Amongst them were:

Think - Bike - sensible.

Keep honking, I'm reloading - he laughed at that one.

and

My other car's a Bentley - also amusing.

The smallest one read: If you're reading this, you better hope I don't brake - which he expected was probably put there by Juliet.

The van lurched forward and he tailed it carefully - it would very much ruin his day if the gates scratched the sides of his bab… uh... car.

It suddenly occurred to him that he had no idea how to handle the situation of meeting his charge again. He was supposed to be dead. How was Artemis supposed to react to that?

A phrase came to mind;

'Que sera sera'

Whatever will be, will be.

And so The Major wound the Bentley down the drive and, just as he had always done, prepared to be ready for anything.

Artemis Fowl Senior was in his study, brooding.

His finances were in order, that was not the reason for his mood.

His wife had come down with a bout of sickness, but that too, had not made him feel so morose as he currently was .

No, the reason for his miserable state of the moment, was his son. Or rather the absence of his son.

He had been missing for weeks now. Months, in fact.

Artemis found that he disliked being on this side of a missing-persons saga as much as he had disliked being on the other. It was no less painful to be the one doing the worrying than it was being the person who was missing, knowing others were worrying about you.

He reached out and picked up the photograph that sat on his desk. It was quite old, but had only taken up residence there upon his return from Russia. It depicted a summer's day and, standing out against the background of the manor's land, a group of people.

It was an out-take photo, really. One that had been taken merely to fill the paid-for film of the photographer's camera. The other photographs had been much more formal. The traditional, annual Fowl family photograph. This one, however, was different. It showed six people, rather than the usual three.

At the edges, not so much grinning as glaring, stood the two giants - the Butlers elders, guarding even when they should have been relaxed. In the middle, sat on the grass, were two children, Juliet with her arm wrapped around Artemis Junior's shoulders, pulling him towards her. The boy did not look so impressed at the fact, but his mouth was open in a somewhat-cheerful shout of indignation at his treatment. Behind them, Artemis Senior himself stood, lips planted on his wife's cheek and arms looped round her waist as though they were dancing, her face aglow with a happy smile. A few short years ago, he would have had the photo discarded. But Angeline had adored it from the moment she'd set eyes on it and refused to allow him to do so at the time.

How grateful he was of that now.

He ran a hand over the glass, clearing the minute amount of dust the maid must have missed in her cleaning.

His thumb paused over the face of his bodyguard, sighing before replacing the frame in its rightful place. Even his expert on communication technology hadn't been able to trace the call he'd received, although once he had awoken the next day, he'd almost thought the whole thing had been a strange dream after all.

He stood up stiffly, stretching his artificial leg before leaving the room with the intention on checking on his wife. He had reached the landing when he heard an engine approaching. No, not one engine. Two. He wondered vaguely who it was, but Butler would deal with it.

And then he remembered that Butler was away, probably in search of his charge. And so he descended the stairs, heading for the front door to see for himself.

As he passed the guard's room, one of the security men opened a view of the front door on his CCTV screen and called after him.

"Wait a second if you would, sir."

"Why, who is it?"

"It's Butler, sir. But he's brought someone else with him. They've not been vetted sir..."

"Who, Juliet? I can assure you she doesn't need 'vetting', as you put it. Besides, Angeline will be delighted if she's paying a visit. She treats the girl as the daughter she never had."

"Well yes, of course, sir. But there's someone else with them too, sir. Another man. I don't recognise him but he was driving the Bentley, sir."

"Driving the…" Artemis petered off in surprise. "Well then he's definitely no threat. Butler wouldn't entrust me with that car, let alone a hostile."

"Sir, I really think I should…"

"Oh enough! I have known Butler long enough to trust his judgement on people and I think I can answer my own front door…" Artemis grumbled at his employee, reaching for the door handle.

He wondered who on earth Butler had allowed to travel in the Bentley of all vehicles. He barely allowed the professional chauffers to drive it. Artemis felt a pang of pain as he remembered the exact reason why that was. A piece of The Major still lived within its chassis, or so he thought. Yet still he hadn't been able to bring himself to use the car since the man's death over five years ago. His son had though. Often, apparently. It was almost as if the car was a joint family heirloom, passed down the generations. Perhaps not exactly father-to-son for the Butlers, but close enough.

Major was much more of a father to Butler than I ever was to Arty, he thought bitterly.

Then he rolled his shoulders, shaking himself free from the thoughts. He could hardly go on and meet his guests if he was misty eyed and dwelling on the past. And so he swallowed his emotions and opened the door firmly, stepping out onto the top step.

On the gravel below him were two vehicles that could not possibly be less alike if someone had tried to make them so. One was a rusted, clapped-out old van which Artemis recognised as being the one he had seen Butler fixing from time to time in one of the garages. And the other was The Major's prized possession - the Bentley - standing proud and gleaming in the setting sun.

Stood by the ridiculously opposing vehicles were three people, their faces hidden by the shadows in dimming light of sunset. Still, he recognised the front two instantly and raised a hand in welcome.

Butler inclined his head to him slightly. "Evening, Mr. Fowl."

"Good evening, Butler, Juliet," the Fowl patriarch greeted them, looking over their heads interestedly at the third person. "Did you have a good... ah, trip?"

"Yes thank-you, sir," Butler told him.

For some reason, Artemis thought the man seemed almost pleased with himself. How out of character. The Butlers rarely bragged, although Lord knew they had more than adequate reason to, if they felt like it.

"And I hope you don't mind," continued the bodyguard. "But I brought someone home."

Artemis was confused by this statement. He'd rather hoped that one day he'd hear the same phrase from his son, but he'd never imagined hearing it from Butler. Plus, the 'someone' was clearly male and roughly the size of the man in question. Not that Artemis didn't have an open mind on people's… personal choices…but...

"We think you might recognise him," Juliet smiled, grabbing the arm of the unidentified person and pulling him forward. Then she added, with her usual youthful charm and humour. "Look what the cat dragged in, sir."

Artemis was quite sure he had only ever met a handful of Butler's acquaintances and the man at the back didn't seem to strike any bells...

Or at least until he stepped forward and his face was illuminated the light spilling from the front door onto the gravel and Artemis's one biological knee almost collapsed in shock.

"Hello, sir," said The Major.

Ridiculously long A/N, as promised.

This is your warning, just like in card games when you're not allowed to finish and win unless you remember to say it. Or maybe that's just my family...

Anyway.

Last card!

There's one chapter left.

I almost apologise for that, but this fic is my longest ever already and I think I've dragged it on a bit long as it is. Wouldn't want to overfeed you all or anything... :)

That's also a subtle warning that if you want to get on the final thanks list this is your last chance to do so - seats in 'The Butler-Mobile' are up for grabs people!

For people who don't know who/what Flintstones are - Google them. They have a 'car' made mostly of wooden struts, a roof made of foliage, two stone rollers for wheels, with no floor and no engine so they basically run everywhere but sat down under a canopy of leaves... which is quite odd, but hey, it's a cartoon about cavemen so I think they can get away with it!

And finally, bumper-stickers on The Butler-Mobile also include:
(because I know you're desperate to find out)

'Never do anything you wouldn't want to explain to the paramedics'

'My day is not complete until I've terrified a complete stranger'

'Horn broken, watch for finger'

'Honk if something falls off'

'Silence is Golden but Duct Tape is Silver'

and

'I beat up 6 hippies and all I got was this crappy van...'

Yeah. Um... some of them came with it.

Honest...

And by the way, I would actually like to thank you, but does anyone else think that FanFic shouldn't just assume that? I mean, what if it was a flame and that little box comes up after you review saying the author would like to thank you for your continued support?

Anyhoo, here goes. The next chapter is the last one and it's been a hell of a ride, so thanks guys!

Wolfy
ooo
O