Thanks to: Readergirl99, shiningpearls, Shadow914, 6000j and The Littlest Mouse for the reviews.
Forgot to say in the last Chapter - if anyone wants to read more about Dom and Tim's run-in with Mr Richards the angry farmer, you can find it in my fic set "Little Remedies" - it's called "A Lesson in Independence" and is in two parts (Chapters 21 & 22)
Be nice to Past!Wolfy, it was published a looong time ago now. Dom and Tim's age gap is wrong and some other things won't exactly fit (one day I will edit it all so it's all the same canon Wolfy Butler!verse) but it was one of my first forays into writing Dom and Tim as kids, the first one being "The Theory of Relatedness" (Chapter 18 of Lil Rems) where they try to kidnap a dwarf, which Colfer said Tim did as a kid and you're not telling me Dom wasn't highly involved...
Look at me with all the *shameless-self-advertising-alert* shite! Anyway, if you're interested and can forgive the mistakes, they're there.
You've got this to read first and it's another monster chapter I didn't want to split, so enjoy the extra dose of gruff!fluff!
WARNINGS: Swearing, some heart-to-heart gruff!fluff from SuperPa (*SuPa*)
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Extend
The Gym, Fowl Manor
"Lokti."
Dom clacked his forearms together twice in front of his chest before settling them; hands up at his eyebrows, a gap just wide enough to see through with both eyes between his wrists. It was a habit he had been in since early childhood when he had had often left his elbows stuck out too far when in a guard, leaving his ribcage exposed. He didn't anymore, but his grandfather often used the Russian word for 'elbows' as his cue to focus before he began a combination.
It was quiet in the gym; strangely so. Not quite eerie, for it was often a place of calm, solid energy. But something felt different this morning.
Dom realised what it was after a moment; the absence of his uncle.
They often worked in pairs, with the third of their family unit performing some single activity - weights, stretches, ground exercises or the likes - whilst the other two sparred or worked the focus pads. There was always the sense of someone else in the room. It was good for keeping alert, too - for it was not unlike Pa to quietly mention to either Dom or Myles that he would like them to jump in with an attack from a blindspot at some not-predetermined moment of a free-spar or routine, just to keep the other on their toes.
Dom had long since learned that the mirrored wall was one way his uncle seemed to foil his every attempt to jump him. These days he resigned himself to rare successes due to both his male role models apparently having eyes in the back of their head. Or a better honed sixth sense than he had yet acquired - both Pa and The Major could still sneak up on him on occasion, unlike the vast majority of the human race. For a few years, Sean - which was why he had gained the nickname Panther in the first place - could manage it, but these days Dom was becoming more and more like his mature relatives.
No fear of being snuck up on today in the empty gym, of course, but the Butler boy still felt as though someone was watching him over his shoulder...
Lokti - Focus.
"Nachat'," said Pa, curtly.
Dom took a breath, then his fists began to fly with pinpoint precision into the pads his grandfather parried the punches with just as accurately.
Jab, cross, slip, slip, left hook.
"Steady. You go in that hard you'll put yourself off balance."
Dom swung again with more control.
"Too far the other way – chto eto bylo? Are you trying to tickle me? Hit, boy!"
He bit back the retort, far too well-trained to let the frustration get the better of him. His grandfather knew how to make him work harder - suggesting he wasn't good enough had only ever fuelled the boy on more so to prove that he was. Alexandr Butler was also a stickler for perfection, but surely the exact pressure of a punch didn't matter to this degree…
Jab, cross, slip with halfbeat jab, cross, left roundkick.
"Get your leg down quicker if you insist on breaking your structure with a kick."
Dom was fast. Most people wouldn't have managed to put the pad in position on their own leg, let alone critique his stance.
He started a different combination.
Body jab, head jab, strong cross, slip left, left hook to liver, feint right, left hook to head, opposite round kick...
"Oof!"
He rolled onto his shoulder and countered the move by throwing his foot towards his grandfather's shins, hooking his Achilles and using it to pull himself up, firing his heel at his groin as he slammed his hands into the ground and exploded upwards back onto his feet.
"Put too much weight into the kick, you'll go down with it," Alexandr explained, arching out of the way. "Nice counter, though."
"I know how to fight…" Dom muttered, slipping out of the way of the two blows that swept towards him. "I've been doing it my whole life, Pa."
"As have I. Some half-century longer than you, pup," the man smiled wryly, backing off; letting him reset, his experienced eyes spotting a weakness in the fifteen-year-old's sparring stance that most black belts of any martial art you cared to name would have struggled to notice.
Jab, jab, cross, slip right, right hook to spleen, left round kick, spin into right hook kick...
He targeted it again, grabbing the boy's right ankle and flipping him onto the floor. Dom growled in frustration as he hit the mats for the second time that morning. It was irritating to lose. At The Academy there was only a handful of students that could beat him in a spar – and all of those were mere months away from their graduation assessment. Even most of the tutors had stopped sparring against him – presumably for fear of embarrassment should he put up a decent fight, let alone trounce them. Yet his grandfather and uncle could put him flat on his back almost daily with infuriating ease.
"Why won't you teach me how to fight like you, then?"
"You do fight like me," Xandr snorted, avoiding the leg sweep easily this time as Dom spun upright once more. "I don't see anyone else you could fight like. But you should be being taught all this at The Academy," – front leg tepe, jab to head, block, retreat – "This… is just … supposed… to be…practice."
"Yeah. And I already know most of what they teach us," – left hook, cross, guard, push kick, retreat – "From you and Uncle."
"Exactly, m'boy," – jab, cross, block, jab, jab, cover, front push kick – "But if we taught you everything all at once, you'd be bored at school."
"I don't care. I want to learn, Pa. I hate being– " – jab, jab, right uppercut, slip right, half-beat jab, right hook – " – beaten."
"And who beats you, exactly?"
"Not – " – jab, cross, jab, cross, jab, jab, left knee, left hook, cross, body jab, right round kick – " – many – " - left reverse elbow, right uppercut, slip left, left hook liver punch, right forearm frame to shoulder, right knee, double-handed chest push – " – people."
His grandfather gave another wry grimace, keeping up with the youngster's hot-blooded speed was only manageable because he knew his grandson's every tell – something he would train out of him over the next few months and years.
"Good," – triple jab, right uppercut – "Although have you thought that maybe the reason your uncle and I don't teach you everything all at once – "– jab, cross, block, repeat, retreat – " – is so that we still have a few tricks up our sleeves to keep you in your place for a few… years… yet…" – jab, cross, left round kick into ri... – grabflickthud – " – hmm, Youngblood?"
Dom scowled up at him from the gym floor again.
"Bastards. Both of you."
His grandfather gave a barking laugh, stretching one long arm down towards the teenager and hauling him to his feet by one hand.
"Don't sulk, vnuk; it doesn't suit you," he said. "I'll teach you a trick you can try out on your uncle when he gets back, eh?"
"Really?" Dom grinned and Alexandr was reminded by this sudden change of mood that despite his lumbering frame and solid muscle tone, the boy before him was just that; a boy. Albeit a boy with far more training behind him than most men would ever have.
Although, in just three short years, he would make the transition from dangerous adolescent to elite adult, trained to protect, to defend, to kill – anything that would be required of him. And not long after that he could go forward for his Blue Diamond assessment, Xandr would wager. Perhaps it was time to start teaching him everything he needed to know – though the lad would probably be surprised at how much he already did. He had never seen so much natural talent and determination to succeed in a teenager. Not even his own sons had been this good. Yes; he had high hopes for his grandson.
"Of course really," he snorted. "You know how much I enjoy watching his face when he actually has to try somewhat. I enjoy it even more so when I'm not the one directly causing it. Half the effort, all the enjoyment. Now come here and throw a punch at me, Little Kingdom I'm going to point out one of your tells."
"I don't have any t… –" – hook, cross… blockslipcross... – "Ouch."
He flexed his wrist more in annoyance than pain at the jarring stop of his attack.
"Yes you do," Alexandr said, stepping back from the counterattack he'd just inflicted with lightning speed, almost before his grandson had even raised his fist to land a blow. "Everyone does. At first."
"You and Uncle don't."
"Me? Not anymore, no. Your uncle? Yes. He still has one. I remind him of it every time. I'll do the same with you until you work out what it is."
... jab, cross, hook, overhand right...
"Like this," Xandr said, the corner of his eyes crinkling in amusement, as he preempted the next hit seemingly before Dom had decided what he was throwing.
"Blyad'..." Dom growled as he tried to turn the deflection to his advantage. "You said you'd tell me!"
"No. I said I'd point it out," he smirked. "There's a difference."
"You're enjoying this, Pa..." the boy accused.
"Of course I am. Making you the best damn Diamond the world has ever seen – and will ever see – is my life's work, Kingdom."
And by the end of their session, Domovoi Butler was one step closer to that title.
"Now," Xandr said, as they began to cool down. "Much to your apparent amusement, I will be out tonight. Can I trust that you will keep young Master Artemis out of trouble for the evening?"
"Yeah, I'll stay with him. I think he just wanted to do some more rallying anyway."
The truth, technically.
"Oh, that car game?" it was a semi-rhetorical question Dom chose not to answer. He wasn't lying then, after all.
The boy bent at the waist, grabbing his own elbows in a 'basket stretch' and letting his head hang low.
"Relax your neck more," Pa prompted, gently.
Dom did so, enjoying the feeling of the weight of his skull stretching his spine. It was definitely one of his favourite stretches. Along with shoulder stretches - spreading his wingspan wide, then to centre and back again. Palms together, thumbs together, little fingers together, back of hands together... each stretched a different part of the shoulder joint in a series of satisfying crunches of synovial fluid; essential maintenance when he had a life of throwing punches ahead of him.
"Do you fancy a jog?" Xandr asked. "I had an interesting call this morning."
"From who?" Dom asked, curiously from upside-down.
His thoughts flashed to the 'interesting call' he'd picked up in the flat. He wanted to tell Pa about it, but that would involve explaining means, motive and location he didn't have a cover story for yet...
"Richards – the tenant of the farm on the west side," Pa said, reaching up so high as he stretched that his fingertips brushed the ceiling. "Crotchety old bastard - remember him? Has a problem he thinks should be ours."
Dom righted himself and felt his stomach drop. "Oh right... Yeah I remember him. What problem? Thompson's cows getting on his land again?"
The man and his neighbour, Mr Thompson, were in a constant battle over whose responsibility maintaining the dividing fence between their two farms was. The only thing they agreed on was that as the landowner, it was a problem they should bother Mr Fowl with. And of course Eugene handed that onto his staff, who invariably meekly requested Butler deal with it, as the two farmers were as bad tempered as eachother and something about the bodyguard's massive presence seemed to have a better effect on their mutual co-operation than sending one of the gamekeepers or the likes to investigate. Because of this, Dom had spent more than one summer evening in the past herding miscreant cows back out of the arable fields with varying degrees of success. To Mr Thompson's amusement and his dogs Shepney and Cow-Lad's confusion, Xandr used a combination of whistles and shouts to direct his tireless grandson around the herd in much the same way as a shepherd with a sheepdog and with almost as much accuracy.
"Not this time," his grandfather gave a rumbling laugh. "Said he thought he'd seen some boys messing around in one of the old barns at the north end of his land. Asked if I would check it out."
"Oh right," Dom said again, nonchalantly, or so he hoped it came across. "When are we going?"
"As soon as you and I grab some proper footwear," said Xandr, finishing his stretches. "That infernal Women's Institute meeting I have to attend with Madam Fowl starts at seven, so the sooner we investigate these trespassers for the old git, the better."
"Uh, yeah sure... I'll just go tell Tim," Dom said, distractedly.
"Tell Artemis?" Butler barked a laugh. "Surely you don't expect he'll want to come with us? I know he fancied hiking yesterday, but I think jogging is a bit much for him. I am needed back before dark, remember?"
"Oh... erm... No. I just said I'd meet him after training. Need to tell him I'll be another couple of hours or so."
"All being well we should be there and back within one," Pa assured him. "We could cycle instead, if you prefer?"
Dom floundered for a moment, his brain scrambling for an idea; something to buy them some time. He was pretty sure the bikes were clean, but he'd have preferred to have checked them just in case... Then hit upon an unpleasant solution.
"No, I'd rather run. It's just...Pa..." he said, tempering his gaze. "Would you mind if we went out for a bit longer? Like... if we ran the perimeter the other way until we got to this barn?"
His grandfather frowned. "We should have time. Any reason?"
"Thought maybe we could have that... talk," Dom said, chewing his cheek uncomfortably. "You know?"
"OK," Xandr nodded. "If you like. Put some combats on instead of your shorts - we'll take a scenic route and it's probably pretty overgrown at the moment."
Upstairs Landing, Fowl Manor
"Where have you been?"
"Training. You knew that," Dom said quickly, bundling his training gear into a ball and stuffing them into the metal drawer cut into the wall. Certainly beat doing the washing himself with meltwater he had pounded from snow with his bare feet as he'd had to when The Academy had been in Switzerland.
"You've been hours."
A maid bustled towards them with some cleaning equipment and they stepped aside. Dom heard her pace slow as she passed them. Eavesdropping.
"Yes," the young Butler stated evenly, closing the cupboard door that disguised the laundry chute.
"Yes?"
"Erm… yes?" he said again, eyeing the cleaner once more. She looked back and saw him glaring at her and hurried away.
"Yes what?"
"Yes Artemis, I've been sparring for hours. What are you getting at?"
"Stop being facetious. You know what I mean."
"Fine. Sorry I was longer than I said I'd be; how else do you expect me to be the best when I guard your kids or whatever one day?"
"Junior I am rather more bothered about the near future than some possible event some ten or twenty years or so from now," Tim said, adding in a hiss; "We have… less than twelve hours until we need to be ready!"
"I doubt I'm going to get any better or worse at driving in that time, Tim," Dom said in a rapid mutter.
Artemis frowned. The Butler boy constantly skirted the boundary of disrespect, although the Fowl heir supposed he owed it to him. Still, being grabbed by the arm and dragged around the corner of a corridor was a little beyond necessary, surely...
"We have a problem," Dom hissed at him, demeanour changing suddenly now they were out of sight and earshot. "A big fucking problem."
"What problem?" Artemis asked, worried by the intensity.
"The farmer – Richards – he saw us coming out of the barn. My grandfather is going to go look. I'm going with him and I'll keep him away as long as possible, but you have to get over to the barn and move the car."
"Move the..." Artemis gaped.
"Yes! Before we get there. I've asked to go the long way around the manor. Should give you about half an hour - forty minutes if I slow us up with some bullshit or other, but you have to go i."
"Right... OK... Right," Artemis said, running his hands through his hair. "How do I start it?"
"Junior?"
The call came from downstairs.
"How do you... Like I did – hot-wire it!" Dom said urgently.
"I don't know how to hot-wire a vehicle!"
"You watched me do it like twice!" Dom protested, as though this was all he should have needed to be proficient in the task. "Just make sure it's out of gear before you start."
"You were going to make a screwdriver key, weren't you?"
"Well I didn't have time!" he protested. "Just keep your fingers away from the exposed wire and join them together until the engine turns over - you're basically a genius, you'll figure it out!"
"Junior - are you coming are what, boy?"
Pa quite often slipped into his native tongue when he was conversing with his son and grandson over a distance. He insisted it was merely so that anyone who heard him didn't wonder if the message was for them, but Dom had a distinct feeling it was also to unnerve them. Russian could come across as a coarse language, after all, especially when projected loudly from a giant.
"Ah yessir - I'll just be a minute," Dom called back over the banister.
"Well if you're much longer you can catch me up!"
"Is he annoyed?" Artemis asked, adding fuel to his theory.
"No, just cranky - he wants to get going. Can you manage the car?"
"Where do I put it?"
"You'll have to put it in the east side of the garage – with the drop-tops. Nobody should be going in there until your father gets back anyway. The code is your birthday."
"My birthday?"
"Yeah. Terrible security but your father insisted."
"Junior!" Xandr Butler's gravelly tones rose from the ground floor again. "What's taking you?"
"Uh nothing - coming now!" Dom called back.
"How do you expect me to..." Artemis protested.
"Figure it out! Get to the barn. Get the car. Bring it in the north gates and put it the garages, got it?" Dom said, glancing towards the stairs in case his grandfather was about to appear at the top of them. "I'll buy you as much time as I can."
"And how do you plan to do that?"
"By having a conversation I really don't want to have with my grandpa, alright?"
"You're a bit old for the birds and the bees talk are you not, Junior?" Artemis chuckled, nervously.
"Seriously?"
"My apologies. Thank-you for your sacrifice to the cause, whatever it is," he relented. "Any tips?"
"Yeah; don't fuck this up," said Dom, slapping him on the shoulder and making for the stairs.
Main Gates, Fowl Manor
"Left then," said Pa as they left the main gates, setting off at a jog around the great, stone wall. "It's been a while since we've run the outside of the walls together, Kingdom."
"What's up? Worried I'm faster than you these days?" Dom tried to smile, but he knew he was making a trade here. He could only hope that Artemis held up his side of the deal.
"Faster? Maybe," Xandr laughed. "But you youngsters burn out long before an old engine like me."
"Like the hare and the tortoise, right?"
"Exactly."
They set off at an eight minute mile pace; cruising speed, for the pair. Dom didn't push it, he actually dragged his feet a little almost, under the guise of inspecting the wall. They reached the first marker – a bent over tree Dom knew was the first kilometre - before he spoke.
"What did you want to ask me last night?" he said, more than just a little reluctantly.
"You know what," Pa said, somewhat accusingly.
Dom blew out a long breath.
"Will you at least ring her?" the man asked him.
"No," Dom said resolutely. "He'll answer the phone."
"I'll call her for you then."
"You already have," Dom muttered, although in actuality it was Theresa who had rung the Manor whilst her son had still been sleeping off his ordeal.
She had been horrified when Jim Holt had turned up at the door in uniform, looking incredibly drawn having pulled a double shift, apologising for the early hour; as anyone would be, if they had returned home to the strong smell of bleach and both of the other occupants of the flat missing. Once he had assure her that nobody was dead, but Paul did need a lift from the station in later, he had sat down on her sofa with the cup of tea she made him and explained to her as much as he knew of the night's events. She had sat stoically through the lot, her own brew getting steadily colder, nodding every so often, until he had squeezed her hand gently and told her she was under no pressure, but she really should consider her circumstances, if not for herself, then for her son. And if she did, she knew how to get in touch with him. Theresa had been on the phone to the Manor before the sound of police issue boots had finished echoing down the corridor. Xandr had grimly informed her that her son would live, but reiterated PC Holt's statement. It was all he could do, without straying into the shadow of illegality. He had not quite promised Jim he wouldn't, but he was too old and wise to know it was anything more than a last resort.
"Domovoi, maybe she'll listen if you ask her to leave him for your sake," Pa said with a sigh. "Any mother would at least..."
"She's not a bad mum," he said suddenly. "She's not a bad mother."
"I never said..."
"She's just... caught up with him," he protested. "She's lonely when I'm not home. And she's got no-one to look after her. It's my fault. She'd never be with him if I didn't go to The Academy."
"Dom..."
"Say I'm wrong, then!" he demanded. "What happens when I'm not here? She's left on her own!"
"She coped just fine raising you on her own - she's perfectly capable of taking care of herself."
"She had you - and uncle," Dom said, firmly.
"And we are still here for her and always will be," Xandr said, calmly. "Even if she doesn't always want us to be."
"She doesn't like relying on you."
"I know, but she still has other options than Paul."
"Really? She doesn't want to work here though, does she?" he chucked a thumb at vast, stone walls beside them. "So there goes one big option. And if she leaves him, then what? She'd have to move out whether she wanted to or not! And to where? Probably out of the fucking country before he'd let her go."
"You know we wouldn't let that happen, vnuk," Pa said, serene as ever in the face of the teenager's storm of emotions. "As soon as she gives the word, that man is history. I have the paperwork for him fleeing the country on fraud charges already set up. And I have Jim's word he'd take the case and not look to closely into it. I'm just glad I still have my contacts at Dublin Zoo. The big cats do enjoy a bit of variety and anything can be made to look like a side of beef if you skin the tattoos off the hide first."
He was serious, too. Dom could tell by his face.
He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands; one at a time so that he could still see where he was going. And - gently; the bruising was still tender around his eye sockets.
"Why are you so determined to blame yourself for all this?" Pa asked, when he didn't laugh.
"She only really hooked up with Paul when I was ten," he said, bitterly.
"It was before that that she met him though, wasn't it?" Xandr recalled. He remembered a night in particular that Theresa had called The Major after being stood up on a date. That had turned out to be Paul. She should have perhaps seen enough warning signs then to avoid the relationship, but he wasn't one to judge others without walking in their shoes. His own wife had almost assassinated him a few times before they tied the knot - and a few times more since. Accidentally, of course. If Maud Butler wanted you dead, you didn't tend to be around to complain about it for long.
"Yeah but it was more of a casual thing. It was while I was away at The Academy for the first time that he moved in," Dom continued. "I got home and he was there with his feet under the fucking table."
He remembered his first night home after he'd got home from The Academy for the very first time. His first term. He'd been bursting to tell his family all about it, but then they had drove away from the airport towards the centre of Dublin, not to Fowl Manor. And Paul had been at the flat. And then he stayed for tea. And then it had been nearly bedtime and he was still there.
"Ma, when's Paul going home?"
"Well he's not, sweetheart. He's going to stay. If that's alright with you?
"Like a sleepover?"
"Sort of..."
"Sure, champ - like a sleepover. What do you say, eh?"
"OK, that'd be pretty cool. Do you want to stay in my room? There's not a lot of space but I could move my stuff and I'll sleep on the sofa..."
"That's very kind of you Dom..."
"But no thanks little big man - I'm going to stay in your mum's room with her."
"Oh, ok..."
"You were conflicted about that. I remember," Pa nodded. "When you came and stayed here for a couple of weeks and you were pretty down in general. There was something about The Academy too. Your first term not going so well."
"Yeah but that was just that everyone called me 'The Butler Bastard' and picked on me," Dom muttered. "It was nothing. Kids stuff."
It was a little more than that, actually. But he didn't want to go into that, either.
Pa smiled sadly. Children were harsh - especially to those who were better than them at 'school'.
"But at home? How as home life back then?"
"Paul wasn't so bad before he moved in. Then when he was first living with us..." the teen let out a heavier breath of air. "He'd tell me off sometimes and maybe he'd cuff me if he thought I deserved it, but mostly he was ok. We'd do stuff - together, you know? Stupid shit. Football matches I couldn't give a shit about. Films, sometimes. The races. He'd bring me along wherever he was going and I'd have to hang out with his mates kids."
"And how did you feel about that?" Pa asked.
"Awkward, really. But it made Ma really happy, so I just got on with it. It wasn't that bad."
"So when did it change?"
"He'd take me to my martial arts classes at the weekend so Mam could have a lie in," he continued. "Then he got me into cage fighting. Buttered me up and because I was a cocky little show off I fucking loved winning all the matches and he'd say how good I was. He'd always show me off to his pals. Say how I was the next big thing. That I was going to follow in his footsteps. He was proud of me. I liked it, mostly. The only thing that bothered me was I couldn't tell them that he wasn't the reason I was so good. It annoyed me a bit that he always took the credit. But it meant nobody asked me about 'Cad or you and Uncle. I didn't see that I was just his ticket to the big time and he was raising me like a pig for slaughter. I thought... I don't know what I thought. That he was alright - just a bit over-competitive."
"You were younger," Pa said gently. "I know many adults who wouldn't have seen what was going on there."
"Maybe," Dom said, hanging his head. "It was all fun and games until it started being for money. And then he started training me himself a lot more. In . And suddenly it wasn't any fun anymore because he'd hit me and tell me I wouldn't get hit by him if I was good enough. And then whenever I pissed him off. Or spoke out of turn. Or if he just thought I deserved it for some reason."
"You told your uncle things weren't as bad recently, didn't you?" Pa said, frowning.
"I wasn't lying," Dom said, gruffly. "He was scared to even look at me sideways after Uncle beat the shit out of him and held him over the wall. For a while, anyway. Guess he's over that now."
"I could remind him."
Dom shook his head. "He's always talking about 'being ready next time' – I don't want you to get..."
"Hurt? Really Kingdom, you bruise my ego. Better men than Paul Grant have tried to kill me and yet here I am still standing," he held his hands wide as they bounced along the rough track. "I'll take my chances. Myles may think I've gone soft too, but he forgets who raised him. And though I may seem like a grizzly old teddy-bear to you, that isn't the side of me the rest of the world sees."
Dom had to admit that that was true. His grandfather had the air of some wise old beast, no-longer affected by the hot-headedness of youth, bestowed instead with the hard-won experience of its years. Years which had yet to find a way to down it. Its teeth and claws may be yellowed with age, its muzzle greying, but it knew how to use them better than any young pup could hope to learn without earning the knowledge the same way it had.
They were almost at the turn of the wall. After that, they'd be able see the barn. He drew strategically to a stop, Pa's long legs carrying him a few strides more before he pulled up.
"I just... Mam says he's like he used to be when I'm not around," said Dom told him. "Nice, you know? He was... He was nice once. He still is to her. I see it. And she just... melts. Like the good outweighs the bad so she just... not forgets, but she sort of forgives him. I've not seen him be like he is with me to her... It's just... it's just me. I set him off. It's better when I'm not around."
"She didn't say that," Pa frowned.
"Not exactly in those words. But it's what she meant," Dom muttered.
"Some days I wonder if you can hear yourself at all, boy," Pa said with a sigh. "You are blaming yourself – a child, whether you want to hear that or not it is what you still are – for the actions of a grown man with no self-control."
"I don't know if I'm anyone to be talking about self-control," he admitted, wrinkling his nose.
"You're a teenager, Youngblood," Xandr said, with a chuckle. "You're supposed to have a severe lack of judgement and self-control – it comes with the territory!"
Dom looked down at his feet, one side of his mouth pulled up in silent disagreement.
"I dunno. I feel like I should be better than that, or som..."
The giant roughed his shoulder suddenly with one palm, pushing him so hard that the boy almost fell over into the bracken lining the route, stumbling into the undergrowth; arms pinwheeling as he fought to rebalance.
"Pa!" he shouted after him, crossly.
"Come on - begi, krolik, begi!" he taunted, as Dom leapt back onto the track and hared after him.
Despite his teasing comments about the senior bodyguard's age affecting his ability, both Butlers were equally damp with sweat when they reached the barn at high noon. A small, noisily bubbling stream ran under the road they came down off the path onto; still running despite the spell of scorching weather. It came out of the ground just this side of the manor walls and Dom had never known it run dry, whatever the weather. The rare heatwave seemed set to break soon. Thick, rolling clouds, dark and oppressive, crowded the horizon, sliding ever closer as the day wore on. The air was humid and close, some primal part of the Butlers drawing their senses to the skies. The rooks the groundskeeper was constantly and futilely trying to keep from roosting in the turrets of the walls were unsettled, spiralling above, cawing raucously.
There would be a thunderstorm later, probably.
Pa crouched down, cupping water in his great hands and throwing it over his head. His grandson still seemed to have something on his mind, but they were making progress, at least. Dom followed suit, slurping some of the crystal clear water out of his palms. Above the road, before you hit the farmland, it was fresh and clean. Irish Spring; the best you could get.
"Right," said Pa, draining his cupped hands one more time before straightening up. "Let's see if old Richards' story has any truth to it, shall we?"
Dom followed, somewhat slowly. But if Artemis hadn't managed to shift the Mini by now, it was too late. He had done all he could. The rest was on the Fowl.
Still, he hung back, planning what he was going to say. Pa would recognise the Mini as Theresa's for sure. He muttered a quiet prayer to whatever gods were listening - Loki, God of Mischief, maybe - and followed him through the gate, which hung open on its hinges. He hadn't left it like that. Was that a good thing? Or had Richards been up here and already seen the car?
"Something's been driven out of here recently," Xandr said, eyeing the tracks critically. "Last night at the very latest. Maybe even more recently than that..."
Dom nodded in agreement, as though he had not been the one to make some of the tracks.
Xandr crossed to the doors and, with much less effort than it had taken Dom and Artemis, heaved them wide open.
"Well would you look at that!" he exclaimed.
Dom winced, barely daring to follow him into the barn which was...
Empty.
He'd done it! Artemis had actually managed it!
The thick, warm air swirled dust motes in the backdraft from the door, tiny specks dancing through the sunbeams tracing down from the holes in the roof above the wooden rafters.
On the floor, were several upturned buckets and some empty cans and bottles lying around. One or two of them were cartons of juice – the same kind Dom knew Eugene Fowl liked to drink when he was on one of his 'health kicks'.
"What does this look like to you, lad?" asked Pa.
"Like someone's been having a party," Dom said, a little hesitantly.
"Or it looks like someone wants us to think someone's been having a party," Xandr corrected.
"Do you... Do you think that's the case?" Dom dared to ask.
The Butler looked around for a moment, scanning the scene. It looked too tidy to be the result of your average evening spent by a bunch of youths without parental supervision, but maybe this was the first time they had used the barn.
"Probably just more teenagers making bad decisions, eh?" he shrugged, starting to gather up the rubbish into an old feed sack that had been lying by the door. "That's what I'll report back to Richards, anyway. Doesn't seem to be anything to worry about at least. They probably drove up here in some clapped out car, drank some beers and drove back again."
"Lack of self-control and judgement?" Dom grinned, quite ecstatic at the turn of events. "Right?"
"I would guess," said his grandfather chuckled, throwing him the bag. "And unfortunately, as you will find more and more as you get on, other people's bad decisions usually mean clean-up duty for us..."
And usually, that's because of a Fowl, thought Dom, catching the bag and beginning to toss bottles into it. But he didn't drop himself or Artemis in it.
Fowl Manor, Dublin, Ireland
Alexandr had been on his way up to wash and change ready for the unavoidable quest that was the WI meeting, when he was surprised to bump into the youngest member of the Fowl family looking positively sweaty.
"Sorry, Butler – is there a queue to use this bathroom?" he said, seemingly flustered. "I was just about to get a shower."
"Not at all, sir – after you," he said, gallantly. "Everything alright?"
"Yes, yes, quite thank-you..." the young man said, bustling into the bathroom.
"Master Artemis?"
"Yes, Butler?" the teen asked, putting his head around the door.
"Have you been... exercising?"
The Fowl heir blushed red. "Please don't tell The Major, but as a matter of fact, I have."
"Nothing wrong with that, young sir. We should all make an effort to keep ourselves fit, for health reasons and, I suppose at your age, aesthetics."
Artemis went even redder. "Well, yes, that was my intention."
"Let me know if you need any help with a training program. Junior would be happy to join in if you feel uncomfortable training on your own, I'm quite sure."
"Butler, I do not think and physical comparison between myself and your grandson will improve my embarrassment in the slightest. But thank-you for the offer," he said, and shut the door.
Kids, Xandr smirked. Evidently young Master Fowl was hoping to improve his physique for his new girlfriend.
He headed for another bathroom.
Although on second thoughts, perhaps a bit of a sweaty odour would put off some of the less persistent of the Tart Brigade...
Dom's Bedroom, Fowl Manor
"Junior!"
Dom's ears pricked up at the sound of his name being hissed through his door.
He dropped the book he was reading onto the bedside table and rolled off the bed, pulling the door open and ushering the Fowl in quickly.
"Did you do it?" he asked.
"Obviously – it's where you said," Artemis told him, his hair wet from his shower and sticking out at odd angles. "My gosh it's a long way to run cross-country. It was quite the encouragement to get the car started so that I didn't have to run back!"
Dom smiled; it really wasn't very far, a far as he was concerned, but he played a long with it anyway.
"Yeah – especially carrying that bag of rubbish I bet."
"What did you think of that? Did it work?"
"Well Pa fell for it, I think. Though maybe you shouldn't have used the bottles your father drinks."
"I didn't have much choice!" Artemis said, a little crossly. "I thought it was quite ingenious."
"Pretty smart," Dom had to admit, sitting back down on his bed and crossing his long legs.
"Thank-you, I did think so," Artemis said, smoothing his hair. "So, planning for later. Harson has taken leave today, so that only leaves the other two security men to avoid."
"And Mrs Callaghan," Dom said with a frown. "We got away with the sandwiches this time, but she'll dob us in for sure if she sees a car leaving."
The cook had been employed by the Fowls for many years and although it had been a few years since the youngest Fowl and Butler regularly found herself under her disapproving gaze, she was still one to report to their appropriate parental figures should she suspect they were 'up to something' – especially since her own children were now away at university and boarding school and could not be accused of being involved in the activities.
"Ah I've solved that problem, too – I've convinced my mother to take her along with her to the meeting," said Artemis, perching on the chair Pa had slept on. His eyes wandered briefly around the military-clean room. He didn't come in here often; they normally met up in his own study.
Dom didn't ask how, but he nodded. It was a good plan.
"And how are you going to get us permission to leave?" he asked, beginning to suspect Artemis hadn't at all got a plan for that despite his apparent confidence about having everything else sorted.
"Ah – I'm going to call her on the car phone and say Angeline had asked if I would be able to visit."
"You think she'll say yes?"
"Mothers of a certain age start craving grandchildren, Junior. Of course she'll let me go."
"Gross," Dom muttered, automatically. "And what about me?"
"You're part of the bargaining – I'll say I'm taking you with me. The Major was fine with that the other day, so it's just the same."
"Not really – he was parked at the end of the drive then."
Tim waved the concern away.
"Details, details. It'll be fine. And if she says no, we'll just have to claim teenage rebellion and sneak out anyway," he grinned.
Dom didn't hold out much hope for that.
"You do know my uncle is going to kill us when he gets back," he sighed, not for the first time. "Both of us. Stone dead."
"All being well, he'll never find out," the Fowl said reassuringly.
Dom didn't hold out much hope for that either.
"How are we supposed to be getting there. They won't let us take a car."
"I'll just say Romeo is picking us up."
"Really?"
"Look, they don't know he's a prat. For all they know he's Angie's responsible older brother. We're all adults – we can do what we like."
"I'm not an adult," Dom pointed out, mootly.
"Junior, how many children do you know that can do what you could probably do in your sleep?"
"Including the years younger than me at The Academy? Probably like a hundred and eight..."
"Don't be facetious," Artemis rolled his eyes.
"OK so I'm an honorary adult for the night," he said, chewing his thumbnail. "Now presuming we survive - how are we going to get back in the car? When is your mum due back?"
"Oh I don't know - those meetings seem to go on forever," Artemis flapped his hand dismissively. "And if they are home, I'll just drive us back in the car and say Romeo lent it to us."
There were a few glaringly obvious holes in The Fowl's plan. One being that if Pa caught a look at the Mini, he would definitely recognise where it had come from. Dom made a note to rip the reg plates off it when they got back. Presuming they made it back in one piece.
"Fine. But I'm driving us back from Devlin's place to the gates. You can take over there."
Artemis Fowl held out his hand. "Deal."
The Butler boy shook it, but he couldn't help feeling he'd just, not for the first time, been played by a Fowl.
Stretching is important! I feel like I should do a list of favourite stretches, because even if you don't do much exercise, increasing flexibility and generally just getting your spine straightened out does you a world of good!
For those of you martial-arts minded or interested, those combos at the beginning there are based on kickboxing. Others you find in my fics will probably be Krav Maga based, as those are the two disciplines I'm most familiar with. The rest I google the shit out of haha
The symbol! OK, so it is a sort of reflection. A 'M' reflected into a 'B' down a centre line, which should be viewed on a diagonal like this: /
Not standing for Myles' initials, but for Myles & Beckett. They both have the mark in the same place. When they were younger their mother was very keen they remain as identical as possible, even down to scarring. Obviously that went more and more to shit as they got older and now scarring is how most people would tell them apart - but they'd still struggle!
OK, another warning - we've got 5 more updates to go on this fic! Updates may get a little wider apart as my life is starting to return to pre-pandemic routine, which means I'm trying to decide between getting these last 5 chapters perfect and making a decent start on Part Two on the free days left to me.
So yeah, just wanted to put that out there because I'm really going to miss posting and I don't want it to be a sudden end in a couple of weeks without warning. This fic is going to finish up my longest piece of work on here, I think. I've enjoyed every letter of it and whilst part of me is very excited that it's only the first half of 'Days of Reckoning' and I still have Part Two and then the third and final instalment of the series to write, the enormity of the project is also a bit daunting, so having you guys cheering me on through reviews whilst this is posting is really motivating through an otherwise pretty solo challenge.
Right! I'm off to bed. If you come across this weeks/months/years later and there isn't yet Part Two or a fic called "Dead Reckoning" following "Days of Reckoning Part Two ", please feel free to send a review to boot me up the arse / remind me people are waiting to find out what happened...
I mean *spoilers* Dom survives, obviously... But yanno, the fun part is the journey...
Oh and Happy Eve of the Artemis Fowl Movie launch on Disney+ for those of you that have it. I mean, I'm sure a few of us will have a few choice words to say by the time the next chapter of this fic is posted... Choice words either way, that is... haha
Wolfy
ooo
O
11/06/20