by Lyona of Tartarus
Disclaimer: I do not, nor have ever, owned Artemis Fowl in any way, and this one-shot fanfiction has not been written in hopes of making any money, though I would not think it too adverse should anyone choose to send me any money. My bank is always open to those people.
Summary: A one-shot piece of depressing musing done by, surprisingly enough, Artemis. Eternity Code spoilers ahead.
And of course, now on with the story.
Taking the ChanceI sat up in bed, the soft light of the laptop gleaming against my skin as I typed absently. Another scientific essay under the name Emmsey Squire for the most stubborn of scientists to chew on and argue against. Though, of course, I knew that they could hardly deny that all of Squire's points were correct. I should think the less of them should they so much as attempt to disregard my essay, simply because they disagreed with the subject's conclusion. Weren't scientists supposed to be open-minded about the universe, because they could always be wrong? How dull of them, then. My eyes fluttered closed for a few moments, then shot open again as I struggled in a battle to keep myself awake, to finish the essay before the next morning, where I would undoubtedly be subjected to more indignities such as shopping. As I struggled, figures from my memory swam across my mind like buoys, bobbing up and down; in and out of view. From these mists, my father loomed into view, his face benevolent, as had become customary since his return to the manor. His mouth opened slightly, as if he were about to speak.
And what about you, Arty?
For what seemed like the millionth time that day, that week, that month, that year, my mind replayed the words that my father had spoken so long ago. Probably he has forgotten that he has mentioned such things to me at all by now; it has been six months, after all. Almost everyone would have put out of his or her minds about a simple phrase that was mentioned so long ago, and apparently bore so little importance to their lives.
But not I.
I still recall him regarding me with a thoughtful look in his eyes as he'd finished his walking exercises at the hospital, when he was still adjusting to his prosthetic leg. He was leaning on that leg rather heavily, as if it were a crutch and not a leg that he should treat as an equal to his true one, his good one. The eyes that look so much like my own stared out of his head almost accusingly, their cool ice blueness filled with a warmth that I had never perceived in mine. I wanted to turn away then, to cower and hide, or to simper and agree with him. I have never suffered such a lapse before. To know that it is possible is almost.. frightening, if it were possible to scare me, as if I were a little child again, vulnerable towards the world, and naïve towards the world's ways.
Will you take the chance to be a hero?
I shook my head in amusement at the words, trying to break the spell that my own father's words had cast upon me. A fruitless attempt, though I continued hoping that his words would lose their power over me, and soon. I had no time for such old-fashioned principles such as heroism. Heroism did not win you money, unless you were paid to be a hero, and that smacked vaguely of mercenary intentions, something that I was never. Even in my latest days of childhood, I had never considered Though I strive to make the Fowl family revered once again, I will not abase myself, and work by the sweat of my brow for its return. I am not a Christian, who hold much by the principle; therefore it is not necessary for me to do so.
When the time comes..
When the time comes, Father? I thought testily. What time? You mean the times when you told me that gold was all that mattered? Aurum est Potestas. So many times have I heard that phrase, yet today you use it not at all. Well you might as well forget about turning me into a little hero clone of yours, Father. I have become what you've always wanted me to be, so long ago. I will not change myself on account of a small mood swing of yours.
All right, perhaps a large mood swing, but still.
Will you take the chance..
I've already taken many chances, Father, and I've done many things without you. Things that you were never there to see. And you think it right that you should continue to dominate as a patriarchal figure in my life, though there were so many things that you have never been there for. What right have you to disturb my lifestyle the way you do?
To be a hero?
To environmentalists around the world, I would be a hero, no doubt, if I chose to tell them exactly what I have done in the past year without your help. To scientists around the world, I am already someone to be revered, not someone to be offended or crossed very easily. To many computer hackers, no doubt I am an example to be followed. Is this not enough proof that I am past the childish concept of a 'hero'?
What about you, Arty..
His voice echoed through my mind eerily. I thought of the times when I was young, the times when he had given me rare pearls of advice, good advice that I had always recalled in my greatest moments of triumph. He was the one who had originally encouraged me to become who I was, when Mother, no doubt, would have turned me into a small male version of herself. Not that Mother is someone not to be taken seriously; she is simply very.. eccentric. And naïve as well. But my father.. He was not simply anyone, he was my father, and whatever he wanted done, we would do together, however ridiculously emotional the concept was.
Will you take the chance to be a hero?
For the last time, his words flew through my thoughts, turning them blank until all that remained for me to think of were those nine words. They sat side by side, asking me a question that needed to be answered before I got on with the rest of my life.
And silently, I nodded.
The EndA/N: That was my first fanfiction, a rather emotional piece. Please criticize to your heart's content; I'm sure I definitely need it. Thank you for reading.