"Artemis, I'm home." Holly closed her door behind her and doffed her LEP overcoat, a garment that was unfortunately in style again.

She poked her head in a few different rooms looking for him before calling out again. "Artemis? Where are you?"

Holly entered the kitchen. "Artemis?"

"Here..." came a liminal voice from behind her, just on the edge of being inaudible.

Holly wheeled around and searched the kitchen air carefully. There, at last, she found Artemis, barely in the visible spectrum not five feet away from her. She could faintly make out that he was waving his arms at her. The man was scarcely more visible than a shielded fairy.

"D'arvit," she muttered, pulling a hi-tech lockbox from the fridge. The box scanned both her thumb and her mismatched retinas, and when her identity was confirmed, it popped open, revealing multiple intravitreal microneedle injectors. Holly grabbed one and expertly dosed herself directly into each eyeball. It was all done with an ease born from practice. Holly blinked away a few tears, and tiny sparks of magic flashed in her eyes for a brief second, summarily resolving the slight pain that came with the injections.

She blinked a few more times, and then turned her focus to where she had barely been able to see Artemis in the kitchen. He was now much more visible, albeit still appearing somewhat ghostly. This was because he was a ghost.

Holly smiled at him.

Artemis seemed relieved to be seen again, but evidence of worry crossed his face.

"What is it?" she asked.

He frowned. "The SPOOK's effectiveness is wearing off."

"Exactly," said Holly, waving dismissively. "That's why I needed another dose. We do this every few weeks, remember?"

Artemis crossed his arms disapprovingly. "It used to be every few months. You know full well that the injections have become more frequent."

Holly turned away, ostensibly to begin preparing her dinner. "So I have to jab my eyeballs a little more often. So what?"

Artemis let the question hang in the air for a moment. Myles Fowl's Spectacle-mounted Ocular Observation Kit serum was never designed for years of continuous use. They both knew it.

"You know where this path is going to end up," began Artemis. "Your having my eye has doubtless been a boon, but nevertheless, someday it's quite possible you won't be able to see me at all anymore. No matter how many times you inject yourself."

"Can we not talk about this right now? I had a very long day at work and I need to eat." Holly threw a few handfuls of frozen berries into the blender.

"A fruit smoothie is not dinner," chided Artemis.

"I responded to a call today that involved an elderly dwarf having a seizure. I'd like to see you eat anything more solid than puree after witnessing something like that."

"I would, if I could eat solid food in the first place," quipped Artemis. "As it is, I'm stuck with invisible clam chowder and imaginary caviar."

"You know, that's one upside of your being dead: The seafood industry lost a major sponsor."

As the blender whirred, Artemis thought about how grateful he was to still be here to banter like this. His body had held onto life for centuries past its time (thanks to the fairy magic in his system, the engineered longevity of his clone body, and just good science pioneered by Myles and himself), but he had not been able to get close to the millennium that elves have. Neither Artemis nor Holly had been able or willing to say goodbye after a mere 350 years, but Myles' serum made it so they didn't have to. For five years now, Artemis had been able to remain with his wife after death.

There were limitations, though:

His soul was bound to their house in Haven, unable to accompany Holly on any adventures that went further than the back garden. The Bleedham-Dryes has been bound to their island and those chaps had only lived for decades, while Artemis had spent more than 300 years raising a family with Holly in the suburbs of Haven. He had designed the house himself though, so it wasn't a terrible place to be anchored to, all things considered.

No one else could see him, and his continuing existence was kept a secret to everyone but Holly and their children. Furthermore, only a select few people even knew that ghosts could exist at all. The LEP higher-ups rightly felt that the world wasn't ready for the knowledge of exactly how the afterlife worked. The few who knew were sworn to secrecy.

Holly was actually quite used to having Artemis as a secret occupant of her home. For almost a year, near the start of their relationship all those centuries ago, they had secretly lived together in Holly's previous house in the West Bank of Haven. Artemis had gladly put up with the low ceilings because it meant getting to be with Holly every night, something that hadn't been possible when they were living worlds apart. The secrecy of their newfound closeness had been exhilarating in a way, but they were both glad to finally let their friends (and eventually the public) know about them. And Artemis was glad to be able to stand up straight again. He had made sure to design their next house with comfort for both of them.

And this time around, it was even easier to keep him a secret, as there was no physical evidence of his hanging about. When he'd been secretly living (alive) in Holly's previous house, Foaly had barged in unannounced one time. He had been crying about how the patent had been rejected for his combination bread toaster + document incinerator (you couldn't tell which slot was which, causing his house to nearly burn to the ground because Caballine accidentally put documents in the toaster). Foaly's crying was the only reason he hadn't noticed Artemis' undergarments on Holly's floor.

In the present, Artemis watched as Holly tested the fruit smoothie. She made a face. "Too tart. Needs banana," was her diagnosis. Artemis watched her stand on her toes to reach the cluster of bananas hanging on the wall. In the old days, he would have gotten it down for her.

And this was the worst limitation of all: Being unable to make contact with physical objects. No longer could Artemis hold his wife in his arms. Hugging, kissing, touching... All were things of the past.

Countless times they'd discussed procuring a new clone body for Artemis to inhabit, so that he could interact with the physical world again. But besides the fact that cloning was still highly illegal (which wouldn't have stopped Holly anyways), the ethics of the matter had grown even more muddy since the first time Artemis had died. The fairy scientific community, spearheaded by Artemis himself a while back after what he'd seen with Nopal, had discovered there was much more to a clone's consciousness than previously thought. There was essentially a whole unique person hidden beneath the seemingly inert surface. The idea of growing such a person in a lab, just to take over their body and suppress their unique spirit, was upsetting to both Artemis and Holly. So they didn't do it.

There were workarounds for some of the day-to-day activities that required handling things, anyways. Since Artemis couldn't interact with his belongings, Holly had set his computer to display reading material that automatically advanced the text at Artemis' considerable reading speed. This way, he could enjoy books hands-free when she wasn't around to read to him (as they sometimes liked to do). He had devoured the contents of hundreds of books from the Haven library in the cumulative time that Holly had spent at work the past five years.

And despite the limitations, their current arrangement was far better than the alternative. Holly could converse with her husband, spend time with him, look forward to seeing him after work every day, and wake up every morning with him watching over her. His appearance was that of the middle-aged man he had once been. Their daily routine was in many ways unchanged from when Artemis had been alive.

But now, even this arrangement seemed to be slowly slipping away.

Holly sat down at the dinner table to drink her banana-improved smoothie, and Artemis sat in a matching chair, except his wasn't real. "I don't know if simply upping your dose is going to work long-term," he said. "Your system is adapting to the SPOOK agent."

Holly sighed. "You make it sound like I'm addicted to drugs. This stuff is harmless, right?"

"It wasn't tested very extensively," shrugged Artemis. "Beckett and Myles just went at it gung-ho. Personally, I'm not so sure it's exactly harmless. Your eyes have been more bloodshot lately. You've noticed, no doubt."

"That's from screen time," huffed Holly. "Kelp is keeping me overtime to work on the dossiers."

Artemis shook his head. "No, that's not it. One of your eyes is mine, remember? I know what it looks like when it's bloodshot from screen time. And what you have isn't that."

"It's worth it," she declared, sipping at her fruit smoothie. "I can't just stop seeing you."

Artemis sighed. "You know I would die for you, right?"

Holly smirked. "You already did. Don't you remember your first gravestone?"

"Quite well. And I have to say, Bruin Fadda's magic made hanging on as a spirit after death way harder than it needed to be." Artemis recalled how difficult it had been to cling to the grounds of Fowl Manor after the magic of the berserker gate had taken him out. It was comparatively effortless this time around.

"You would know, I suppose."

"Right. Anyways, my point is, I want to see you have as healthy a life as possible. I hate to say it, but I just don't know that I'm contributing in that department right now by hanging around this plane of existence."

Holly's blood turned cold, and it wasn't from smoothie brain freeze. "Don't you dare."

Artemis held up his hands. "I wouldn't leave you. Not unless I had to. Honestly, I don't know if I could ascend now even if I wanted to. I can barely feel the pull of the tunnel when a Fowl descendant dies these days."

Satisfied for now, Holly took another sip of fruit smoothie. "Alright, so what are you saying?"

"It's just that I worry about the serum," explained Artemis. "Your eyes being bloodshot is likely a surface indication of a bigger problem. If we can't figure out a new solution, it might be healthier for you to see me less."

Holly was intransigent. "Well, I'm not seeing less of you."

Artemis nodded. He longed to reach out and comfort her, touch her, reassure her he was still here for her, but he couldn't. "I understand the sentiment. Which is why I hope we can figure this out."

"Well then, professor, what do you propose?"

"You know that doesn't work as an insult if I'm actually a professor, right?"

"I can insult you however I see fit, Arty," smiled Holly.

Artemis chuckled. "And I love you too, Holly. And that love is what gives me the courage to inform you that you have a spot of blueberry skin stuck between your upper teeth."

Holly sheepishly picked out the scrap of fruit. "Go on, then."

Artemis folded his hands. "Well, what I'm proposing is a new solution."

"Right, so what is it?"

"No, I mean a solution, as in, liquid, medicine, a serum. I believe the current one can be improved. We can make it friendlier to your system, actually develop it with elfin physiology in mind. I can't interact with my lab equipment, but you can. I would be right there with you, walking you through the process. I'd be able to rest easier, pardon the expression, if I knew you weren't slowly killing yourself by continuing to see me."

Holly mulled it over, sipping again at her smoothie, but quickly realized there was nothing to consider. "Alright, if it'll set your mind at ease, let's do it," she announced. "We can work on it in the evenings after work. As much as I hate to admit it, you're right about my eyes being bloodshot. I just didn't want to say anything."

"I figured as much." Artemis then held up a cautious hand. "Now, don't get your hopes up here, as it's just a theory, but there's another reason I'd like us to attempt to synthesize a new serum."

Holly's hopes were up anyways. Artemis' theories were usually correct. "Go on."

"I've just been thinking for a while now that if your eyes can be made to intercept and interpret my visage, perhaps the sensory receptors in your skin could be made to interpret my presence, too."

"Artemis, what are you saying?"

"You might be able to make physical contact with me. Or at least we can trick your sensory perception into believing you are."

That sent Holly's heart soaring. "Gods, I wish I could kiss you right now, you wonderful genius, you."

Artemis chuckled cautiously. "Hey, what did I say about getting hopes up? But yes, hopefully soon. Let me know when you want to get started."

Holly downed the rest of her smoothie and stood up. "Let's go."