Chapter Five

I hear some distant drumbeat,
a heartbeat pulsing low
Is it coming from within,
a heartbeat I don't know?

"Breaking the Silence"

Loreena McKennitt

:i:

Foaly had always had a morbid fascination for psychology. He supposed it stemmed from his habit of Watching People, but he was certain a psychologist would add some Freudian theories to the 'why'. So, Foaly avoided psychologists. He preferred self-diagnosis.

For example: he had diagnosed himself with, not paranoia as one might think, but ADHD: it wasn't that he believed the CIA was spying on him, it was the he couldn't stop thinking about tin hats. He had made it when he was three, running tests on electrical conductivity in the kitchen. He had never left it far from sight since.

The idea of the CIA and their 'brain-probing rays' had stemmed from when he had first arrived in the Police Plaza:

"Hey, donkey! What's with the hat? 'fraid it's gonna rain underground?"

He had provided a suitably sarcastic remark.

Paranoid!Foaly was born.

He hadn't been given more than his fair share of paranoia. If he was more cautious than the average fairy, then it was due to an upped ante. However, it was easier for others to believe in his paranoia versus the more complex problem of ADHD, so he let them be.

He knew there were treatments for ADHD. The problem was that they weren't any more sophisticated than those diagnosed for snot-nosed Mud Midgets—in other words, he couldn't lose his socially unacceptable behaviors without sacrificing his self-acclaimed creative genius.

He could live with the ADHD. Though his habits annoyed him at times, none were particularly destructive. His cleanliness kept him healthy; his hatred for group gatherings kept his relationships to a manageable few. His need for Certain Items could be answered easily and cheaply.

However, that same ADHD led to… other problems. He had no romantic interest, which took a little rationalizing to make himself feel better about that distinct lack. His genius made it even harder for him to relate to less 'gifted' fairies.

It wasn't a big problem, though.

Really, compared to most, Foaly was actually very stable.

Honest.

Now, most psychologists would not define him as 'healthy'. 'Stable' is a rather careful wording. He had been in roughly the same state for three centuries. However, by most psychologist's standards, he was a very sick centaur. He had few relationships, no romantic interests, quite an ego, no regular contact with family, and an extreme dislike of psychologists.

Now, he liked psychology. Just not psychologists. He kept a keen eye on both Mud Men and fairy publications on the matter, especially having to do with genii. He was ever eager to know how others thought his mind worked.

Foaly had been rather disappointed when Artemis had simply submitted to the mind wipe, but when he discovered of his clever little deal with Mulch, he almost didn't mind that Artemis had hacked into his system without him even noticing. He didn't care enough to tell Julius of it. Artemis was perhaps the only other mind in the world that rivaled his; part of him had the rather irrational hope that they could just sit down and talk someday.

When Juliet had broken the Eye on Arty, he had been bouncing off the walls—Root had assumed it was with nervousness, but it was really with glee. He had delighted in Artemis' wits, preparing for another skirmish even as he watched the music of the next Mozart ensnare Holly's mind. Root's worry had only been frosting on the carrot cake.

When Juliet and Holly explained matters, he was still quite excited by the turn of events. Delving into Artemis' mind would be, in all likelihood, the most difficult and engrossing thing Foaly would ever involve himself in, and he found himself curiously frightened of what he would find. Was Artemis like Foaly's younger self, lost and alone and still so very much a child—or was he tired of it all, and had the weight of his depression collapsed his mind and fractured it into a strange and twisted mishmash of conventional disorders—some genetic disorder, never seen before, granting him genius and giving him a greater burden yet—or perhaps the outside pressures, unseen forces from his environment, his family, friends, made his mind implode and collapse in on itself—or, most intriguing of all, was it all a hoax to some terrible, beautiful end?

And so, Foaly hunkered down at home to think, with a fridge full of carrots, a large glass of lemon water, and recorder for his thoughts. He would know Artemis better than his own left hand by the time the night was through.

:i:

Juliet slipped into the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe. Dom was making borsch. Perhaps it wasn't the most refined meal in the world, but Angeline encouraged 'ethnic dishes.' "Dom?"

He turned around. Juliet nearly slipped off the frame when she saw the small, subtle smile on his lips. "Yes?"

She took a deep breath, feeling the Ziploc of ground Prozac against her arm. She had always been good at sleight-of-hand. "Can I help?"

"Sure," he said, and tossed her a butcher's knife as if it were a mere toy. She caught it, momentarily angry, but then she grinned: he did as Ko had, throwing daggers to improve reflexes. "Cut the beef into squares for me."

"Yes, brother," she replied, playing on his good mood—

He turned from the beets and smiled in a way he had not done for years. Artemis rarely saw Dom smile; it was a wonderful thing, like a dentist with a bag of cotton candy hidden in the drawer.

The smile left her stunned, and all she could do was laugh in response, open and free.

"You'll never finish the beef that way," Dom said. He had lost interest in cubing the beets and now faced his younger sister.

She pondered the knife, looking at her smile in the reflection. Even being conscious of it failed to make it diminish. "I'd rather eat it raw."

"I should send you back to Ko," he replied, wagging his eyebrows. Juliet's chest clenched—this was how Dom used to be, her big brother and papa, rolled into one, always smiling and joking. "You have been learning uncivilized habits from Artemis."

"Ah, Arty?" Juliet said with a wicked grin. She speared the beef slab with a vicious thrust and heaved it aloft, impaled. "Yes, he's quite the barbarian."

Dom laughed as his sister licked the meat juice from the knife as it dripped from the beef. "Yes, it's to Ko with you."

Her eyes darted up, wide and astonished. "Ko's? You wouldn't!"

Her heart broke as he smiled again, staring up at the ceiling. "I've heard she misses having a Butler around. We wouldn't want an old lady to be lonely, would we?"

She laughed and slid the beef slab onto a cutting board. Her fingers dripped with blood and she laughed. "Alright, alright! If I cut this here beef, can the 'old lady' be lonely for a few more years?"

He appeared to ponder it for a moment. "Well…"

She made puppy eyes at him; it had always been particularly effective.

"Alright," he said, and turned to attack the beets.

She did the beef automatically, slicing it into great cubes as her thoughts swirled like the stew's rich steam. Dom had always behaved very differently around her than he did in times of stress. Even with Artemis he dared not joke around as he did with her. Theirs had always been a happy, golden relationship.

Artemis' little 'adventures' had changed it all. Everything had such a gloom on it after the Fowl Star had sank; the Major, Artemis Senior's bodyguard, had been one of the few Butlers still alive. Juliet left for Ko for a few years then, and had little contact with her brother. When her blue diamond tattoo had been denied of her, Juliet went straight from Ko's to a mindwipe. Dom's curious new weakness kept him a gray mood—she could not laugh with him anymore.

She would think she would be bitter of Artemis, but strangely enough she wasn't—all she felt now was worry, worry that it wasn't mere depression, worry she could do nothing.

She laughed humorlessly to herself, the golden euphoria of before clearing a little. She was already treating him as if he were her Principle, as Dom wanted her to—he knew he wouldn't be able to protect Artemis all his life. Juliet, perhaps, would.

The irony was sickening, really.

Juliet didn't want to spend her whole life catering to Artemis' every need.

Yet her she was, cooking his dinner in his house with his things with a dose of Prozac up her sleeve.

She tossed the beef into the broth, smelling the rich aroma exuded. Borsch was one of her favorite dishes. Before her parents had died they'd cook it for her, and she'd think of Dom, off protecting the prodigy infant while she was at home with her family.

Butler dropped the beets in and stirred. "Can you peel the potatoes? Just drop them in where you're done."

She nodded, acquiescing.

Slipping the Prozac into his bowl would be the last thing she'd ever do for the Fowls.

:i:

After the Fowl dinner, having been fed by Juliet in the kitchen, Holly made a beeline for Artemis' room. The door was ajar, and a warm evening wind was blowing past from the open window.

She came in and looked around. Last time she had entered she had been too entranced by the music to note her surroundings; yet she found it quite to her taste. Spartan, yet the warm lighting provided a sense of richness to it. The burgundy drapes by the window focused the room on the grand piano in front of it, instead of anything related to an actual bedroom.

It stood there, surprisingly elegant for such a bulky thing. It looked at home in its half of the room… it had a sense of belonging to it, which Holly had always had a difficult time giving to her own furniture. The sweeping black curves and the sweet ivory of the keys made it beautiful, and the lack of music exuding from it made it quite quixotic.

She looked around. There was a door undoubtedly leading to the john; she suppressed a shudder. Honestly, doing the business inside…

The left and center of the room was dominated by the piano and grand window. On the right stood a handsome mahogany rolltop desk with a computer; next to that, squashed against the wall, was the twin-sized bed with a maroon duvet.

In that bed was Artemis Fowl, sleeping.

Holly smiled to herself and stepped closer. He slept in a tight fetal position, curled as if so very afraid. Even the thick duvet could not hide his slim form—he was still a little boy. All that was visible, framed with mussed black hair like a halo of shadows, was his pale face.

She stepped closer still, musing. His eyes were clenched shut; she could tell his eyes were moving in REM sleep. His lashes were somewhat long for a boy's; when awake, they made his startling eyes stand out all the more. His skin glowed against the richness of the red duvet. He looked like a child, he was a child.

She scooched the chair by the computer over towards the bed. It was difficult to believe scarce two hours ago he had played the piano and stolen her soul.

Something strange had happened when she heard that song. Something had… clicked, like two puzzle pieces snapping together to form the final picture. It was quite irrational of her. It didn't even make sense—why would a song played by a pubescent, snot-nosed megalomaniac do anything to her other than provide a strange, esoteric memory?

She wasn't even sure what had 'clicked' in her. She felt no different towards Artemis other than a friend's worry, so she knew it wasn't infatuation. Her respect towards the power of music had expanded, certainly, with Artemis' masterful command over her soul for those brief moments. And her philosophy towards life? Unchanged. She took it as it came, and preferred to idealize.

Whatever it was, she was sure she would find out later.

For now, she had someone to babysit.

Watching his eyelids flicker bored her after a while. She considered poking around on his computer, but then realized he probably had all sorts of ugly traps in case someone did just that. She was dying to try out the piano, but Artemis was undoubtedly a light sleeper.

She explored the john briefly, morbidly fascinated by its contents. Mud Men hygienic products were laced with harmful chemicals; she marveled that Artemis refused to use them. It only interested her for a half hour or so, and she drifted out, taking her seat by Artemis again.

He was unchanged. He could have been an angel by the dimmed lights of the room.

Completely unchanged.

His eyelids were still flickering.

Holly knew very little about medical things, but she knew it wasn't normal for an REM cycle to last so long. She slipped into the john and contacted Foaly.

"Wake up, donkeyboy."

She waited five minutes for Foaly to respond before she left him a short audio message about Artemis' REM cycle. She didn't think it was too urgent, but he might be able to use it to diagnose Artemis better.

After that, she pondered his face for a while more, wondering what he was dreaming about so vividly—she suspected it was a nightmare from the way his brow clenched, the way his eyes seemed so determined not see, the way his breathing was so variable.

Poor guy, she thought. She had relatively little to have nightmares about—her father had died, but it had been peaceful, and over a period of time that struck a perfect balance between the angsty helplessness of a drawn out death and the abrupt jarr and blame-game of a quick one. She adapted to trauma quickly and almost never dreamed about her work, which sent many LEPrecon officers gibbering to Argon about red-eyed trolls.

But Artemis… she could not even list it all. She had never really thought about the tragedy in his life before, and felt somewhat ashamed. Who was she to judge?

He was just a boy anyway.

And so her night passed.

:i:

Opal didn't take to disappointment easily. She had to eat a whole box of truffles to calm her nerves.

Holly had a week off; she had no reservations at any hotel or spa in the Lower Elements, nor had there been a large drain to her account, so it wasn't anywhere illegal. As if Holly would break one of her precious rules and get a Mud Man spa treatment. She could find no records on the LEP site of any recent mission by here either that might have cut into her days off.

It was as if she had disappeared from the asthenosphere of the earth.

Foaly, evidently, had cleaned up after himself well.

She briefly pondered the idea of an affair between the two, laughing at the image, but threw it aside for more serious reckoning. Where was she? It could be that she had died and the LEP were doing an unusually good job of keeping it from the media. But she doubted it. Root would have succumbed to old… habits, which were most conspicuous on his checking account.

She didn't like that idea anyway. The idea of someone else destroying Holly made her short pixie temper flare up like a magma chute.

The other major probability, abduction by aliens aside, was that Holly was on some top secret mission somewhere that was so completely off record not even the Council were fit to know.

Though she knew the latter was the most likely, she still couldn't be sure. She could never afford to be unsure again.

The records of chute travel were positively hideous to pour through.

Opal checked Holly's account again. A charge for a Mountain Dew caught her eye—at a bar.

She squealed in delight. She didn't know Holly went clubbing!

The security videos for the bar were pathetically easy to hack in to, but she rewarded herself with a truffle anyway. After a bit of searching during the night in question, she found the video—she talked briefly to an elf, then left abruptly afterward. She doubted that it had been from hurt feelings.

She followed Lime around for a bit until he bought another drink; cross referencing the time of purchase from the video with the bar's financial records for the night, she identified him as Vert Wintergreen, a young journalist for Lower Elements Express.

Curious, she did a search for all articles by him. He wrote for the gossip section.

Her grin widened as she spotted his latest article, still hot off the press. THE CRAZY GIRLY CAPTAIN DATES!

She read on, giggling up a storm the likes of which will never be seen again. He described his 'date' with Holly in enticing detail before concluding that he had declined her request to head on over to her apartment for the sake of his reputation.

It was obvious she had been called by the LEP to duty: no abduction by aliens, no secretive death.

She replayed the security cameras, this time looking at them from various angles so she could read their lips. Perhaps he had… extended their encounter a bit.

Opal still found it damn funny.

She twirled in her new hoverboy, pondering why Holly dated. Most women in power didn't bother with such things. She had thought Holly was quite the female eunuch before, but now all sorts of interesting psychoanalyzing could be done.

She pulled out a notebook and wrote in large, girlish letters. Had she wrote in English, she would have put hearts over the 'i's.

Why does Little Miss Perfect date, but only rarely?

She pondered for a moment, then wrote: Impulse. She denies her own desire until it becomes too much.

Why does she stop?

That one was easy. She feels ashamed of herself.

She stared at the second for a few moments, then crossed it out. Useless tangent.

What is her desire for?

That was the hard question. She chewed on the end of the gellpen, then answered:

Normal life

Companionship (sexual: lust)

Companionship (non-sexual)

She thought for a moment, then added, D) frustration

She liked that last one. 4. Frustration over what?

She giggled. It could be unrequited love, and there were sooo many hot Recon jocks. In school, she had dated many of the officers who were now the LEP's finest. And poor, poor Holly, surrounded by them everyday, unable to act for fear of her position?

Opal had to admit to herself this possibility was unlikely, but she liked it anyways. Trouble was the current teenage heartthrob, the new golden boy in Recon. Holly, surely, must have at least a fledgling crush on him.

Or maybe she liked mature guys. Opal wrinkled her nose in disgust. Root. Eww…

Foaly? A little kinky for a goody-good elf, but maybe.

Or…

Opal's eyes twinkled.

Little boys.

Little human boys.

She popped another truffle in her mouth. She deserved one after that thought.

:i:

Nothing much happened, but I hope you all liked it. A lot of it was build up to the next chapter, where things will speed up again now Opal's involved and Foaly's actively trying to diagnose Artemis. (I told you this was an alternate OD!)

Two things: I started two forums. One was co-founded with Kitty Rainbow, and is basically a directory for people available to beta stories, and also a directory of people in need of ones. It's on the 'my forums' thingy on my profile, so check it out. Plus, I need an editor for this too—if you like this and you beta it, you get the new chapters before anyone else.

The second thing is that I also have a forum for my stories and such. You can post comments and such on it that aren't really applicable as reviews, or come as an afterthought, or whatever. You can also check out updates (such as when I post revised versions of chapters or post things on other sites) and look at some of my personal thoughts on what I right.

If it comes down to it, I'd rather you look at the former of the two forums. It's for the Greater Good of AF Fanfiction.