Author notes:
I was floored by the several positive comments I received on my first-ever uploaded piece. I had fully intended it to be a one-shot to test the waters, but I was encouraged to continue it by friends and internet strangers alike. So, here you go! This fandom will be revived, if it's the last thing I do! I'm shooting for a five-chapter story. Further positive comments would mean the world to me, and motivate me to finish the story. Of course, this fic will be completely contradicted once the next novel comes out, as I can't see Artemis returning at all in the near future in canon, but this will be fun while it lasts.
Also: this fic contains several references to the official Artemis-centric short story Luna Minor found only in one of the hardback UK editions of The Fowl Twins. The fic is perfectly readable without having read that short story, but I recommend everyone support the industry and the author by considering purchasing that edition, or asking for it for holiday. The short story is amazing for longtime fans. The UK edition also has a surprising amount of differences from the US version within the main text, and is the superior reading experience.
Without further ado, chapter 2:
Space
Alone with his thoughts, Artemis stroked his jaw, finding the sensation of the stubble scraping on his palm to be uniquely relaxing. It reminded him of a time, close to a decade ago now, that he had also had inconvenient prominent facial hair. The various memories of that time, high and low, still kept him up at night.
He pondered the time that had passed since then, and how he had spent it. Not exactly wisely, as it happened. Many months had been spent going insane at the manor, creating an ice cube, followed by six months of intensive psychological care to reverse the damage, followed by six months of being dead. Then, many months of mental, physical and occupational therapy to recover from said deadness.
However, not all of the decade that had passed since the time paradox had been wasted or seen him incapacitated. He had spent a good three years focused on the climate after his resurrection, earning him the prestigious, if somewhat pretentious, Man of the Year award. He had also gotten the title of doctor from multiple honoured institutions. This confirmed his long-standing assertion that he was somewhat intelligent.
Most recently, he had been in this cramped rocketship for six months. Naturally, the cramped interior was not his fault, as his designs were always flawless. It was simply the laws of physics that had dictated the most efficient possible design. At the time, it hadn't seemed cramped. At the time, it had been an escape…
Fowl Manor, six months ago
Artemis wiped sweat from his brow, disgusted with his own pores. He was making the last modifications to his revolutionary self-winding rocket in the family barn. It was an unseasonably warm day in Ireland, and Artemis looked forward to his five-year mission if only for the fact that he'd get to spend every second of it in climate-controlled suits and interiors.
He restarted his electric drill, attempting to attach a golden plaque to the side of the rocket. The noise it made covered the soft sound of mechanical wings, followed by footsteps alighting on the grass outside, and also the sound of the barn door behind him opening a crack.
He stopped his drilling to blow metal filings from the plaque. "It's nice to see that you're putting my gold to good use," came a bemused voice from behind the Irishman.
Artemis started, and dropped the drill onto his foot with all the grace of Beckett performing open-heart surgery. He immediately forgot the pain, though. "Holly!" he shouted, whirling around to see his friend, for of course it was she, standing in the barn doorway. "I thought you couldn't get clearance," he noted, gesturing to his dirty work clothes. "If I had known-"
"Then it wouldn't have been a surprise, mud boy," she finished, reaching her arms out for a hug. She smiled, happy to see him.
Artemis knelt down to oblige. "Mud man, I believe," he remarked, holding her close.
When Holly pulled out of the hug, she smirked. "Don't get cocky, Fowl. Where I'm from, 21 is still primary school."
Artemis returned the smirk. "Good thing I'm actually closer to 25. Resurrections and time-travel, no?"
Holly lightly punched his shoulder. "Congrats Arty, you've finally made it to secondary school."
They stayed there for a long moment, arms awkwardly at their sides, him kneeling, her standing. They both searched each other's eyes for the right words. Eventually, Artemis started to lose his balance, kneeling as he was, and quickly stood up so as to avoid further embarrassment.
Holly coughed, and swung her arms casually as she walked around to inspect the rocket. "Where's Butler? Seems like you could have used his help."
Artemis ignored the jab at his craftsmanship, and cleared his throat. "In a meeting with Father and my brothers. They're discussing security options at Villa Éco. The big move is next week." He watched her face closely, gauging her reaction to the rocket's design.
She nodded slightly at the news. "It's prettier in person."
Artemis folded his hands behind his back, and casually followed her around the barn. "Yes, it's quite a picturesque beachfront. You've been there?"
She looked back and up at him with confusion. "No, silly, the rocket. It's nice."
"Ah. I see." They resumed their slow orbit of the craft. "I don't suppose that would have anything to do with the gold trim?"
She stopped her steps, and gazed to the very top of the ship, where the nosecone was plated with gold. The light from the barn's windows caught her mesmerized eyes. "That's preposterous," she lied.
Artemis slyly smiled, and pointed her to the golden plaque he had just attached. "Note, if you will, the commemorative words I have inscribed."
Holly frowned. "You know I can't read that from down here."
Artemis grinned. "Shall I give you a boost, or perhaps find you a box?"
Holly glared daggers at him. "Not on your life," she muttered, and activated instead her suit's wings, ascending the necessary metre and a half, to study the reflective plaque. "If I didn't know you better, I'd say you placed it this high on purpose."
Artemis stepped back so as not to get clipped by a rapidly fluttering wing, and waited for her to read it.
"Oh," she said. "It's in both English and Gnommish." The simple gesture touched her.
Artemis held his hands behind his back, waiting.
Holly gasped. "Arty…" she breathed. "This is magical."
"As are you, Commodore," he stated, as if it were the most essential fact in the universe.
She read the words on the plaque aloud, for added effect. "Interstellar. Dedicated to the one who fixed me when I was but a broken boy. I reach for the stars now."
Holly turned to face him, to find him staring sheepishly down at the floor. She touched down again, and her wings folded up. She walked right into his downward-facing line of sight, and looked up at him. "Why?" she asked breathlessly.
He finally made eye contact with the elf standing not a metre in front of him. "It seemed like a nice thing to put on a plaque."
Holly rolled her watery eyes. "Not that, genius. Why are you leaving?"
Artemis looked away from her, and dodged. "Mars holds many secrets. I intend to find them out. For science." Guilt racked his features.
"We both know that's not the real reason. You're speaking in two-word sentences, Arty," she chided. The way his face flickered when she used Arty was not lost on her. "Get a grip."
He spun his head back to face her, backpedaling in both the physical and argumentative way. "I am getting a grip. This is my grip. Look. Behold. A spacecraft!" He gestured to the spacecraft.
Holly shook her head, knowing she had found the loose stone in the brickwork. "You're now down to one-word sentences. And, yes, I can see the bloody spacecraft, thank you very much. But normal people do not build spacecrafts and launch themselves into space when they don't want to talk about their feelings." She emphasized each clause with a firm poke in his ribs.
Artemis flailed his arms. "Well, I'm not normal!" he spluttered. "Is that so bad?!"
Holly threw her arms up, staring at his contorting face defiantly. "You know damn well I don't mind that you're abnormal! It's the reason I even have these... feelings in the first place!"
They both stood stock still at that, not daring to breathe. They stared at each other. Holly looked pale. Artemis looked... paler than usual. A million thoughts raced through their heads.
Holly slowly scratched her head, trying to come up with something. Artemis raised a finger to clarify what she had meant, but she interjected: "What I mean is, it's one of the reasons I kind of, sort of like you, mud man," she attempted.
Artemis, surprisingly, relaxed, exhaling slowly, placing his hands into his pockets. "See?" he shrugged. "See why I'm going? It could never work. If our first instinct when this topic comes up is to deny it, it's foolhardy to try. It's only logical. We have to move on."
Holly sighed. "Maybe true, but I think you're overlooking something, Arty."
"And what would that be?" He was curious. He noted to himself then, that if someone had said that sentence to him before he'd met her, he'd have had Butler introduce them to his fist.
"That's not my first instinct." She looked at him, sadness apparent in her mismatched eyes.
Artemis gulped, and collected his thoughts. He hadn't spent hundreds of thousands on this project for nothing. Now was the time for resolve. For her sake. The lifespan difference. The biological and social implications. Their families and friends, and their careers. He spoke. "I believe that, in that case, it is even more reason to leave. My years spent pursuing the climate and my PhDs had the unfortunate requirement of my being on the planet. We couldn't move on. But Holly, for all of our sakes, it's what we have to do. Some odds are simply insurmountable, even for us."
Holly cast her eyes to her boots, and spent a spell thinking as well. The man had a point. He always did. She nodded, finding a middle ground. "Julius once told me that I had to take a promotion… not for myself, but for the People." With great effort, she raised her eyes back toward Artemis'. "And now look at me. I'm Commodore Short. I did it."
Artemis smiled reassuringly. "Do you think you can do it again? Put the People first?"
"It depends… is continuing to be friends too much to ask for?" The emotion in her eyes gave him the feeling that a lot more was riding on that question than, well, meets the eye.
Artemis considered. It didn't take long. He shook his head. "It is not. In fact, it would be my honour to continue to be your friend. As I venture out into space, when I make reports of my discoveries, perhaps you could be my liaison officer. 'Ambassador Short, Fowl Affairs.' Reporting to the People all that I find in the solar system."
"Daily updates on which tube of goop you're having for dinner is something the People sorely do not need," she chuckled. "But I'd be honoured to be your direct line. Though that position title needs some work. It will never fly with the Council."
"When you looked at the schematics for this ship," he reminded her, "you said it would never fly."
Holly gestured to the floor. "Forgive me if I'm wrong, but it still hasn't flown yet, flyboy."
"And yet it must."
Holly looked intently from the ship to the human, and back again, and then back once more. Their eyes met, and, as usual, it was as if the world had slowed down.
She broke the awkward silence with an awkward statement. "I can't convince you to stay, then."
Artemis sighed, acknowledging to himself that he tended to do that a lot in her presence. "It's for the greater good, Holly. There really are important discoveries to be made out there. And whenever our feelings would come up in these years past, we'd always arrive at the same conclusion. To stay would cause too much temptation to do something we'd regret."
Holly scowled. "Don't presume to speak for me."
Artemis took a deep breath. "You're right. I can only speak for myself. I care very deeply for you, Holly. And that is why I can not stay here."
More silence. And yet, their silence always seemed to speak volumes more than their words.
Holly spoke softly. "I know, Arty. The same way I know it's impossible to change your mind on anything."
"It's the right thing to do, Holly."
"We'll be in touch, right?"
"What did I say? Fowl and Fairy, friends forever," he recited, smiling. "You're my liaison officer, remember? I'm going to be calling you constantly, to tell you about my brilliant discoveries and exploits. It'll be just like always."
They laughed, and then Artemis' phone buzzed. Holly motioned for him to check it.
He frowned. "Father has texted. He wants my input on a new AI interface system that will be protecting my brothers." Then he looked up, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I believe I've had an idea about it."
Holly cocked her head, suspicious. "Define idea."
Artemis waffled. "You'll see."
She rolled her eyes. "Well, I guess this is goodbye, then."
"For five years, at least. A mere blink of an eye to a fairy, no?"
She chuckled. "Then I'll never have to live this down." And with that, Holly activated her doubledex wings, ascended to Artemis' level, and kissed him. It was short but sweet. And then she was gone, flying, escaping out a high-up barn window.
No, not escaping, he had thought. I'm setting her free.
Space, now
At the memory, Artemis felt his lips tingling where Holly had kissed him last. He didn't know if he was doing the right thing, going back. But with a certain recent development, one of his biggest obstacles may have finally been eliminated. With that, the rest was workable.
His thoughts were interrupted when the hatch into the cabin opened with a hiss, and Butler floated in from the adjacent compartment. "How did your phone call go?"
Artemis stalled the real question, as this was his lifelong hobby whenever he heard an uneducated statement. "It's not a phone call, Butler. I spent dozens of hours and thousands of euros engineering a system that allows faster-than-light transmissions. For the first time in human history, people can have real-time conversations when in fact they are some many light-hours away."
"I see," lied Butler. "Does it come with a phone book?"
Artemis remembered his situation, and so suppressed his wit for the moment. He was still wasting time, every second that the rocket travelled away from Earth. "To answer your question, it went well. I saw what I had hoped for in her eyes, her reactions to my words. I had to be brief, though. The meat and potatoes of the conversation, so to speak, well, I wish to have those discussions in person."
Butler frowned. "How can you be so sure she reacted the way you hope she did? I remember raising a boy who wasn't the most keen at social studies."
"I was keen in every subject, just ask the registrar that I bribed." Artemis winked. "Regardless, I am sure. Holly's eyes are easy to read, because, as you may recall, one of them was once mine."
Butler nodded. "Just a few months ago, you were considering extending our mission indefinitely. What's changed?"
Artemis couldn't be sure. "Part of it is that I was reminded very strongly of my past, when I was apprised last week of the situation with my brothers. Another part of it is that there's been a breakthrough."
"And what's the last part?"
Artemis considered. "I'm not certain, old friend. I built this ship to get away from my thoughts. Unfortunately though, it seems only to have given me more time to ruminate on them."
"So, we're turning around, then?"
Artemis shook his head. His hair was sluggish to follow, whipping around slowly in the zero gravity. "Not just yet. I have to make absolutely sure that mankind's quintessential threat is one that I finally have the means to surpass." His face was one of hope. And then, at Butler's confusion, humour. "In other words, I have one more phone call to make."
