Chapter Four
Worlds Apart
Your world was not mine
Your eyes told me so.
"The Old Ways"
Loreena McKennitt
:i:
Juliet brought her to the study; Holly recognized it from Foaly's vid. Shards of the vase still lay, imprinted, into the floor. She remembered how she had planted that camera on the eye of the dragon, and felt a twist of remorse—when she had planted the camera, nothing had seemed amiss in Fowl Manor, since she had not sought a final glance of Artemis at his piano, playing his soul away. What would have happened had she disobeyed orders and went for a final glance at Artemis?
Juliet took a seat, easing herself down. Holly noticed the scars for the first time, those lines like pink ribbons running all over her, and the slow jarring of her movements.
The Butler caught her stare and smiled humorlessly. "Trouble in paradise," she murmured, and laughed sharply, like a raven.
Holly remembered how they had talked about wrestling, talked with a fellow female as she had not since before the Academy, and turned her thoughts for a moment. "What happened?"
"I'm surprised you don't already know," Juliet snapped. "I thought Foaly kept an eye on us."
She was taken aback. What could she say—what could anyone say?
Juliet sighed and leaned back into the stiff leather, closing her eyes. Her mascara was smeared, but she somehow managed to look good in it. Her hair was gone, those floppy gold curls tamed with a braid and jade tie. There were crinkles around her eyes, and she had lost her lush tan.
Yet she still managed to be beautiful.
Vaguely, Holly wondered if Artemis had ever noticed how beautiful Juliet was. 'Pretty' was a word for children; Juliet was no longer a child. Did Artemis ever noticed that? Or was he too lost within himself?
Holly felt a flash of envy, but buried it swiftly. "I'm sorry," she whispered. Even to her it sounded insincere.
Juliet shook her head, and opened those eyes of hers. "It doesn't matter," she murmured. "What's done is done."
Holly shook her head as well, folding her legs beneath her on an opposite chair. "No, it's not," she stated resolutely, turning back to her LEPrecon self. A hand reached up and touched her comm.; she ignored the storm of voices and let it record automatically. Foaly needed to know this. "I need you to tell me exactly what's wrong with Artemis."
"I have no goddamn idea," Juliet replied. Even the cuss sounded tired, as if she didn't even have the effort to be angry.
"Then tell what you know."
Her eyes closed again, but hardly in a peaceful way. Juliet was as old as the world right then. "I didn't know anything till today, really… it seems like forever… but it started when I broke this vase. Madame got mad at me, so I went to clean the piano in Artemis' room. I go there, and I saw—I saw the coin you gave to Artemis, the real thing, not the fake he gave to Mulch. I black out, and I wake up and there's Artemis. I've never seen him like that before—" There was a rim of tears below her closed eyes. Holly knew that purely feminine instinct to cry, and understood.
"What did he look like?" Holly queried, soft and gentle. She turned the mute on in her headpiece—Frond Root could be annoying sometimes.
"He—" Juliet's voice cracked. It took her several deep breaths to continue. "He looked like a zombie. He wasn't blinking, he was just staring, and he was pacing too, back and forth along the same path, back and forth, back and forth, like he couldn't get out of it. He was muttering under his breath, but I couldn't hear him—"
"Did you lipread?" Holly interrupted.
A tear trickled down her cheek. "No," Juliet whispered. Her shame permeated the study. "No, I should have—I'm so sorry—"
"It's alright," Holly soothed, "it's alright. Please, continue."
Juliet nodded, sniffing her nose. Holly passed her a nearby Kleenex box with a grin; Juliet saw it and broke into open laughter, hysterical, unending. The tension loosed itself from her brow, and she continued: "I tried talking to him, but he wouldn't say anything, he just kept walking and walking… I looked at his computer, and there was a search running for a bunch of fairy things. Then I saw that there was this hidden panel thing that he had left open. I didn't look too closely, but there were fairy things in it, and he had put the coin thingy in it too. I tried talking to him again. I didn't know what to do, so I went to Dom—" She broke off, her sobs hiccupping into her hands as she turned in on herself.
"What did Dom say?" Holly asked softly, yearning to reach out and comfort her, but not quite knowing how.
Juliet looked up from her hands, her eyes red and shining. "He told me not to worry." Her voice turned sharp, bitter. "Nothing's wrong," she mimicked, "It's alright, he's my Principle, he's just giving you the silent treatment."
"Ah," Holly whispered.
Juliet's gaze snapped up to Holly's. "Don't you 'ah' me. You don't have a fucking clue, do you?"
"No, I don't," Holly responded. She looked away from the teen's fierce stare, ashamed.
"I'm sorry," the Butler said suddenly. Holly could sense the regret in her voice and forgave. "I shouldn't have said that. I know you care about Arty too, it's just that—" She broke off and looked down at her hands, fidgeting in her lap as they traced the scars.
"It's alright," she said. She slid off her chair and went over to Juliet and hugged her; it was awkward, at best, but she didn't give a damn. Juliet didn't seem to either, holding her tightly in response and crying into her shoulder. She must have felt like a doll to her.
Juliet sniffled and withdrew after a time, reaching for the Kleenex. She tossed the used tissues to the floor, breaking into a smile at Holly's glare. "Sorry."
"Don't worry about it," Holly replied dryly. "Truth be told, I'm not much better."
Juliet's smile widened, and she reached out and hugged the fairy again. "Thank you so much," she whispered into Holly's ear, squeezing her tightly.
Holly let her for a few moments, then drew away. She didn't like being a ragdoll. "Shall we talk to Foaly?" she asked. "He'll have an idea of what's going on with Artemis, if anyone."
Juliet nodded. "I bet I can reconfigure the conference room that we used last time."
She moved to leave, but Holly stopped her. "One thing."
Juliet looked at her questioningly. "What is it?"
"Does Dom know?"
A frown crossed Juliet's face. "I—I don't know," she said. Her thoughts were blatant as they passed in turn across her face: did Artemis tell him already, is that why he didn't care, is it all an act, am I not 'mature' enough for them, what's wrong with me, what's wrong with me—
Holly tugged on Juliet's sleeve, turning her shield on. "Let's keep this between us for now," she said stoically. "Let's see what Foaly thinks first."
:i:
Dom had eased himself from the bed for rounds. Even a weak man like himself could manage those. If anything was amiss, all he had to do was call for help.
The mere idea of help disgusted him. A Butler should not need help guarding his Principle. It is his duty, and his duty alone. Not Juliet's, with her strange teenage moods; but that was the only one in the Manor capable of toting a gun, and he was horrifically reliant.
In his mind, he turned over the thousand situations Juliet could never cope with. She hadn't been ready for her blue diamond, yet already she protected the greatest Principle one could ever have the honor of guarding. Juliet would fail him, would fail Ko, would fail the Butlers—would fail him.
Out of all the situations he had faced, this was the least fair.
He started on the second floor, looking into each room, each unfinished project of Angeline's. Artemis' father—in his mind, he called him Master Fowl—was blinded by his faith in Artemis to get him another bodyguard. Artemis would never give up crime; it was in his blood since the moment he had seen the Fowl audit at three years old. Maybe it would be a little more subtle, a little more moral, but people would still get mad. Very mad.
Even if Artemis listened to his father and went legit, there was always the past. How many people had Artemis ruined, had Artemis killed? Men and their demise slipped past Butler's eyes like a hard rain, and felt his chest clench. Artemis drove men mad, Artemis had power. If God lived on earth, people may break his windows—but windows were such a paltry thing compared to the breaking of the human life.
His thoughts were interrupted by—music, of all things, strange, ethereal music, the likes of which he had never heard before.
Butler was not a man of music, but he reserved a special fondness for the piano. His fondest memories, receiving his blue diamond asides, were of listening to Artemis play, unaware of any audience. After Master Fowl… left, Artemis stopped playing. Angeline was in no shape to play the great harpsichord in the parlor: Fowl Manor was silent.
And Juliet had said something was wrong?—she was clearly out of tune with her future Principle.
He took the stairs upwards, his slowness of movement only an excuse to listen. It sounded airy and sweet, like cirrus clouds in a summer sky, wispy, pure, untroubled.
He reached the corridor. At the end of the hall was the door, ajar. He could almost see the music drifting out like the dream of French vanilla.
The pattering of the keys caressed his mind as he reached the door and opened it the rest of the way. Madame Fowl was already there, watching her son at the piano.
When she saw another spectator, she turned and smiled, putting a finger to her lips with one hand while beckoning with the other. Artemis played on, oblivious, intent on the keys before him.
Butler leaned against the wall next to Madame Fowl, a smile coming to him as the sweet sound toyed with his senses. Artemis closed the piece with a rippling chord, like a choir of innocents, and turned. "Did you like it?"
Madame Fowl smiled at her son. "That was beautiful, Arty. What is it called?"
His eyes smiled at his mother. He looked oddly… boyish, his skin soft and luminous in the sunlight, blue eyes wide, an angel. "I don't know yet," he replied. His voice was warm like Darjeeling in the morning, mature but not aged. "What do you think?"
Angeline pondered the question. Her smile caused lines around her eyes, but they became her. "I'd call it 'Dolce', but that's not very imaginative, is it?" She smiled again at her son, her happiness resplendent. "What does Butler think?"
Artemis turned towards his bodyguard. "I'm not any good at naming things," he said—did he sound sheepish?
Butler turned thoughtful. "It wouldn't do it justice," he said truthfully after a pause.
Artemis smiled; he seemed… embarrassed. "It's still rather rough," he said. "I'll need to change some of the slower passages. They're a little awkward yet."
"It sounds wonderful as it is," said Madame Fowl. "You don't need to change it at all."
Artemis pondered this for a moment, then shook his head. "I want it to be perfect. I'd like to start publishing music—Father said that I should be doing constructive work if I wanted to help the family name."
Madame Fowl's eyes crinkled at the corners. "Alright," she murmured. "Just don't push yourself too hard, okay?"
He nodded, standing up. "I won't," he replied. And then, to Butler, "When is dinner?"
Butler shrugged as only giants can. "Juliet's taking some alone time," he said. "I'll start on it right away."
Artemis smiled at him, and the world was quiet. Artemis was so content, suddenly, so…
Human.
There was nothing wrong with Artemis Fowl.
He was a just a boy, finding his place, safe with his family.
Butler felt that unique feeling most call 'warm 'n' fuzzy,' strange for the bodyguard who didn't remember the faces of those he killed. Artemis may be his Principle, but he was more than that.
:i:
There weren't too many cables to connect. Things in the Fowl Manor were kept simple, if possible. Angeline, as part of her feng shui hobby, insisted that clutter be kept to an absolute minimum. Artemis Fowl the First simply could not manage electronics; before he had… gone, his son, who fell in love with wireless at age four, dealt with such things. Butler only cared about the cameras, and Juliet had never bothered before.
The particular study Juliet had chosen was what Artemis often referred to as the War Room. There was a conference table in teak and rosewood stretching down the center, custommade so at the touch of a remote various gadgets would pop out. Many of the panels in the sides slid back to show hi-def televisions, and—for the sheer heck of it—surround sound could be added. Juliet found the whole deal far more impressive than most theaters.
She went to the 'throne,' Artemis' chair at the head of the table. A panel on the armrest slid back to show the various buttons that controlled the place. Back when things were a little more innocent, she often snuck into the room to play around—and not just to watch wrestling on the main screen, which the size of a small theater's. She knew the buttons of the place in and out—all she had to do know was to turn them on.
The button was inconspicuous. The machines of the room collectively provided a lovely ambient hum.
Holly turned the mute off in her helmet. "Foaly?"
There was a sound of a scuffle—she grinned as she imagined Foaly and Root scrabbling for the chair. Foaly won. "Yes?"
In the background, Root was roaring. He sounded like a drunkard—Holly was half-glad that she couldn't hear whatever it was he was saying. "We're in the conference room."
"Obviously," the centaur snapped. Holly winced. Shutting him off like that had not been the wisest thing for their friendship—a friend showing such utter disregard meant a lot when there weren't too many friends there to begin with.
Below Root's ranting, there was the tap of keys. He appeared on the screen shortly after, slightly disheveled. "Yes?"
Holly sat down in one of the chairs, turning towards Juliet. "Will anyone else know we're in here?"
Juliet shook her head. "Soundproof. Plus I locked the door." She examined Root, intrigued. "You look different."
Root glared. "You look bald," he shot back, and turned to Holly. Seeing him glower at three times his normal size on the screen was terrifying, and she squirmed in her seat. "I'm disappointed in you, Captain, but we can save that for later. Talk."
Holly's stomach sank as she spoke: "Juliet broke the Eye on accident."
Foaly snorted in disbelief, but she continued: "But something's wrong with Artemis. I don't know what, but—you've seen the vids, right?"
"He's just a Mud Boy," Root scoffed.
Foaly shook his head. "This could be bad." Addressing Juliet: "You say he had Holly's coin?"
Juliet nodded. Root muttered something under his breath about how he knew it was a fake. "And there was that search running on his computer."
Foaly reached under his desk, retrieving a carrot from his mini fridge. Carrots helped you think, his mother had always said. "Hmm."
"'Hmm'?" Juliet demanded, suddenly wrathful. "That's all you have? This is Artemis, damnit, there's something wrong with him—"
"It's alright," Holly said. "Foaly'll think of something." She looked at the screen. Foaly hadn't seemed to have heard. "Right?" she asked loudly.
Foaly jerked out of his reverie. "Right," he said absently. "Now, I'm no expert on the Mud Man mind, it's basically the same as that of a Fairy. Most of the major disorders correspond to each other."
They all nodded, knowing in a few moments they would be utterly lost.
"The easiest explanation is that Artemis is now insane. But what type of insanity? you may ask, and that is a more difficult question. Maybe he has a serious case of split personalities—that would explain why Butler was nonplussed when Artemis treated him warmly. The problem is that he would then not recognize any of you; Butler would be someone to be feared, not a familiar friend.
"It could also be depression. Lots of genii get it; a rite of passage, if you will. You commit suicide, you aren't stable enough to be beneficial to the world in general. Sucks to be you. You live, you will go on and become a household name. Lots of endorsements. Of course, genii aren't the most stable of people…"
"Are you saying Artemis just needs a shrink?" Juliet demanded.
Foaly cocked his head and smiled. "No, shrinks don't work for people like us."
Holly swallowed. Like us. She had never really wondered what went through Foaly's head, beneath the tin foil hat, beneath the arrogance. She supposed she had always thought that was all there was.
Of course, she had once thought greed was all Artemis had.
"Then what?" Holly asked.
"Assuming it's depression, we drug him. Prozac would do nicely. Angeline probably has a bottle lying around somewhere."
"And if he's insane?"
Foaly grinned, showing his teeth. He managed to look more frightening than comical. "Then he's coming home."
A silence. Juliet broke it: "Doesn't Prozac make teens suicidal?"
Foaly shrugged. "Then Artemis dies."
"I can stay," Holly blurted out. "I can watch him."
"Out of the question!" Root said. "This is off the record as it is!"
"I'll cover for her," Foaly replied. "Recons aren't very difficult to fake. She could be… doing soil analyses."
"Soil analyses," Root said, disbelieving. "D'Arvit soil analyses."
"Fine," Foaly said impatiently. "She can analyze a septic tank for all I care."
Root shook his head. "The answer is 'no.' I don't want Short involved in this business."
Foaly turned and gave Root a hard look. They were oddly oblivious to Holly and Juliet; they watched, fascinated. "She's going to help Artemis," Foaly said stubbornly. "Or else."
Had Root been a kettle, he would have whistled—but his response went unsaid. Holly would have killed a dozen trolls to know what made Root back down. "Fine," he mumbled, fumbling for a cigar. "I don't like this, though."
Juliet beamed; had Root been there in person, she would have hugged him like a ragdoll. Root not being there, she settled on hugging Holly instead. "Thank you so much! You have no idea how much this means to me."
Root grimaced. "No funny business, now."
Holly nodded over Juliet's shoulder. "Yessir."
"I want you back in Recon by the end of the week."
"Yessir. I will be sir."
Root did an odd thing then—he sighed. "I don't like this."
"No," Foaly said, "you don't like Artemis, and you don't like Artemis because he's a genius." He snatched another carrot. He deserved two for that diagnosis of his. "That's also why you don't like me."
Root said nothing. He left.
Holly freed herself from Juliet. "Do you think it's the same thing Angeline had?" she asked.
Foaly shrugged. "Maybe. I'd have to ask Argon."
Holly grimaced. "If the drugs don't work, I'll try fixing him the same way I fixed his mother."
Foaly finished the carrot with a flourish. "Buzz me if anything interesting happens. I'm heading home."
Holly nodded, and turned to Juliet. "I'll see you at dinner," she said, and faded from sight.
:i:
That was a particularly yucky chapter… I'll go back and edit stuff later. Now that it's holidays, I can update and update and update. Mlhehehehe.
I have a forum for updates and stuff now. I'll post news and (hopefully) useful stuff regarding my stories there, so I won't be writing these obnoxious notes at the end.
Happy Holidays!