REVISED!

Well, revision number two! Things have been added. Things have been deleted. Orginal character changes, and better vocabulary usage(ish). And chapter name changes. Whoot! Enjoy!

Chapter 2 --- Detours

"Oh Artemis! I'm so glad you're home!" The delightful woman embraced her son warmly at the doorway. Artemis stiffened slightly in her vise-like hug. "It's been so long!"

"Oh Artemis! I'm so glad you're home!" The delightful woman embraced her son warmly at the doorway. Artemis stiffened slightly in her vise-like hug. "It's been so !"

"I've been gone for eight hours, forty minutes, and thirty-three seconds, mother," Artemis corrected and closed his heavy eyes in drained relief. For an odd reason, he had become peculiarly sluggish since the car ride. It must have been his mind, Artemis concluded, as his mother released him and smiled warmly, outstretching her elegant arms.

"I know! But I can't get enough of you. Merry Christmas Arty!" Angeline's smile seemed flawless to her son, a star in his darkness. A smile like every other normal person in the world. He doubted he even owned such an ornament.

Though, even as he denied his own smile, he did accomplish a fake one to please his mother. He would always wear it to please the ones he held dear, even when it wasn't his. "Merry Christmas, Mother."

Angeline, approving of the message, flocked to another corner of the house, calling to Juliet to bring the garland and wreaths. The Fowl Manor would be festooned with cheerful ornaments yet again after a three year retirement. The boy had a rather annoying hunch his Father had set to work to bring in the holiday cheer again. Artemis was just getting used to not having Christmas too.

He especially got use to not having his cheeks pinched by those ghastly Aunts.

As Artemis stepped into the house, greens and reds glimmered on the stair railings and drooped from the white-plaster ceiling; red socks cluttered the fireplace and smooth jazzy Christmas music hummed softly from the speakers in the living room. With a shuddering sigh, he halted himself from leaning against the newly-painted doorway and marveled in distant abhorrence.

He didn't belong here now either.

Reaching his study, he closed the door behind him and caught a scent that perplexed him. It struck a familiar chord, but he couldn't quite place it. The gears in his mind wound and clicked again. Within moments, he had concurred it was a set of five candles with the smells of Evergreen, Bayberry, and Cookie Dough wafting from the right corner of the room where an unusual light cast a warm, fuzzy glow upon his sharp black computers and desk.

The young Fowl groaned. He should have known.

Juliet probably did this. She would be leaving in a few weeks to flock off to a wrestling academy in Mexico. Even if he wouldn't admit it, Artemis would miss her homey touch. It's exactly what he never wanted.

As he reached the corner table with the candles, his eyebrows furrowed in vexation. He even guessed the scents right with the correct number of candles. He didn't even have to think either for the answer; it came naturally. He hated it. Rolling his fingers over the flames, his mind reminded him of the percent of rate at which his skin burned; how much carbon dioxide secreted from the oxygen-guzzling flame; the degree at which wax melted . . . and many other monumental textbook facts.

A normal kid would have screamed 'Ouch!' and retracted his or her hand, but not Artemis. At this amount of flame, his skin would only darken and become coal in color. It would not harm him, even with the slightly burning sensation.

Besides, pyros did this all the time. Maybe he should take up an eccentric fetish, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he already had one.

He just forgot about it.

"Why do I remember everything but that?" he asked to himself, quite annoyed. So annoyed, in fact, that he put every homey glow out one by one with each of his five fingers. Juliet would pout later and call him a 'meanie', but Artemis found that he didn't care.

In fact, he found that he didn't care for a lot things these days. He knew the signs from the countless physiologic books he had read and feared for his immediate future. "Every little thing I know doesn't help me. If it did, why doesn't anyone say so? Parents are suppose to be proud of their children, but someone else could acknowledge me."

It fumed him to think that everyone hated him for being smart. They must've, or they didn't give a hoot. He doubted anyone outside the family even cared. So what if there was one less genius in the world? No big loss there.

No one would need his help for anything. No one ever did ---

Artemis straightened his school tie. "I see. Now, how can I be of service?"

"What makes you think we need help from you, human?" growled Root around the butt of his cigar.

A nervous jolt sent him careening into the candles. He staggered to stay on his feet, but another jackhammer burst into his brain, and he fell to his knees. Another roar of voices thundered through his ears. So many familiar, so familiar he could ---

"But if you want my help, I will require something in return."

"What exactly?" said Root warily.

"I need transport to Russia," replied Artemis. "The Artic Circle, to be precise. And I need help with a rescue attempt."

With those last words, the jackhammer suddenly stopped. He knelt on his knees, gasping for a breath he hadn't taken in a while. What was that? Memories? How?

More importantly, who needed his help . . . and who's help did he need in return? Did he actually, once upon a time, help someone? Did someone in that long-forgotten memory help him?

"Of course not," he stood himself and brushed invisible dirt from his gray pants. Why would anyone help him? He wiped stray tears from his eyes and composed himself. "Get a hold of yourself, Artemis," he said to himself. "You're not a child."

Yet he might be crazy for talking to himself.

The door was soundproof, not even the Butler could hear him in here. The metal was made with aluminum and poly---

Artemis covered his ears as if to stop his thoughts. They wouldn't stop. The gears ever turned and the chains ever rustled; they pulled ideas and broke open theories. They searched like probes each second unraveling time and space . . .

It would never stop, the gears were bound to click until he was dead. This was fact he could not persuade or shift. And he hated it. He hated it all.

As he drew his hand to his eyes to begin to hush the gentle throbbing in his head, he couldn't escape the gently prying facts ushering themselves into the crevices of his mind . . . and the tactless whisperings of the kids in the hallways.

And those memories . . . the ones that came in flashes. The ones that he knew held some secret --- some way to cure this disease he had inflicted upon himself.

----

Holly Short entered Ops slowly as the gentle hum of the whizzing gadgets hissed at her ears. There were beeps, dings, and taps from these amazing machineries that greeted the Capitan with alertness for their master's lack of.

Holly took a deep breath, "Hello Foaly," she tried to smile, "got all that on record?"

Foaly stood tapping away noiselessly on his keyboard, unlocking the mysteries Holly didn't even want to start to consider. After a moment, he answered, "Yes, it was recorded. I took the liberty of destroying it." He turned and smiled sympathetically. "I don't think Arty would have wanted us to keep that one anyway. Bad conversation topics, you know."

The elf's shoulders shook gently as she dropped her head. Foaly found tears escaping the young elf's eyes.

"Now, there's no need to cry ---"

"Who said I was crying?" Holly asked, drying her tears, "I want to know what's up."

"Well," Foaly hesitated, "we have a slight problem. Forget about Fowl for a moment. We need to concentrate on other bigger problems. Like Opal Koboi."

"What about her?"

"She's gone. Vamoosed without a trace from Howler's Peak. How, I have no clue. Haven't been seen since Haven. We believe she escaped to up above. Dublin, Ireland actually."

"Where I just was?"

"Right."

"That's bad."

Root appeared in the doorway, "No, that is not bad, Short, this is horrendous. You have a new mission. Since you know Dublin so well, I want you to find her and report back. No ifs, buts, or detours." Commander Root knew exactly what Holly was thinking. "I heard about Fowl. It's bad, but this is worse, so get your mind on track and forget about him."

"Yes sir."

Root also very-well knew his top elf couldn't just forget about a Mud Boy who had kidnapped her, worked with her, and then befriended her. He didn't think any elf could. It was something about that kid. Something special. "What are you waiting for?"

"Gone, sir."

----

Artemis slipped from his study quietly, locking the door with a deadbolt and a key. Safety of his studies were top priority --- well, semi-top priority, next to his plans of course. Blisters begun to bubble upon his fingers from the fire. It was a stupid idea to touch the candles. So stupid. He stupidly stuck the worse finger into his mouth to make it pain soften and started down the hallway. Butler materialized from the shadows, carrying a huge bundle of lights.

"Artemis ---"

"Nothing's wrong," replied the boy as he attempted to ignore his guardian. "Burnt my fingers, that's all."

Butler didn't try to object. If Artemis didn't want to talk about something, then he would keep his mouth closed until Dooms Day. He let his charge pass before he retreated to a spare bedroom where he hid the retarded lights that wouldn't burn. Mrs. Fowl gave him the duty to fix them. It had been a while since he had worked on a series circuit. He just hoped he wasn't too rusty.

Artemis sighed in relief as he turned the corner and stepped scruffily down the stairs. Then came the fall.

With a slip and a yelp, the usually gracefully boy tumbled down the twenty feet of red-velvet stairs, trying to grasp to anything that could stop him. And within moments, the boy genius had landed at the bottom in a shameful, deranged heap of garlands, lights, and mistletoe.

Things were just getting better and better.

Hearing the disastrous noise of heavy thuds and curses, Angeline Fowl raced to the bottom of the stairs to only stand and bring a hand to her forehead in a mute sigh.

"Artemis," she groaned, trying to hide a laugh, "what am I going to do with you?"

If Artemis had never been mortified in his life, he sure was now. Tripping down a flight of stairs that he could climb when he was three? He knew precisely how wide each stair was too. How humiliating.

Slowly, he unraveled himself from the heap, he stood and brushed himself off. Strange, he usually had close to perfect balance. Well, maybe semi-close to perfect balance. His mother picked a small strand of garland from his breast pocket.

"Why do you still have you're school uniform on, honey?"

"I haven't had time to change, Mother."

She shook her head and straightened his tie, "Well, at least look your best in it! Oh, and try not to trip again." She handed him a navy hoodie. "It's cold outside. Put this on. It matches your eyes." Her son took it reluctantly and slipped it over her head. "And do be careful."

Artemis's eyebrow twitched as he hopped from the coils of decorations around his feet towards the door, then turned to his mother; the ornamental smile adorned his face. "Yes Mother. I'm just excited about the Holiday is all."

His Mother smiled in return, "I am so glad honey. I am so glad we can celebrate Christmas normally, like we used to. Everything is back to normal, right Arty?"

A tinge of sadness. "Yes Mother." He hated lying, especially to his wonderful Mother. The truth was, everything was far from normal. One day he was himself, the way he knew, and the next he was like this. Melancholy. He had performed numerous researches on why and how this mood swing occurred, but it all added up to a blunt nothing. Nada. Every text he referred to was insufficient, and every Physiatrist he called held the same phony answers. They didn't know either. "I will be back later."

When he slipped outside, the frost nipped at his nose as the unsettling feeling of watchful eyes rested on his cold shoulders.

----

Duke muttered curse after curse to the young woman marching proudly beside him. Her hand was the one imprinted on his left cheek. He had been glaring to her for the past ten minutes, and wasn't about to give up when a tree branch smacked him on the other cheek.

The young woman was pretty, no lie. Almost angelical, if he didn't know better. Julia had a picturesque figure, finely manicured nails, and delicious lips. She sported her long dirty blonde hair in a messy bun, but it looked like she wanted it that way, and her sky-blue eyes bore into Duke's skull like a pair of lethal laser beams.

A rip separated the back of her regulation plaid skirt where the Panty Tank had been.

They walked along the tree lot fence towards the main strip mall where they had made arrangements to meet at Goldstone's Sandwich Shop with a horde of other teenagers. The roads were barren due to the newly fallen snow that froze the streets and covered the sidewalks.

"I hate you, you know that?" Julia Darlington growled. Her hands held the blue plaid skirt together at the ruffles. It was hard since she, along with half of her friends at school, had carelessly hemmed their skirts up short enough to make the hot-under-the-collar Principle call a school-wide assembly on the matter.

"How was I suppose to know you were wearing a thong?"

"You weren't and never was supposed to!" She whacked him beside his head with her palm. "You little perv!"

"We already told you sorry." Darren glanced behind him coolly, a smirk across those cattish lips. Even though he told Julia sorry, he didn't exactly mean it. "Oh, come on you two. Julia, you know that it wasn't the first time it happened. Okay, first with a thong but you should have been ---" snow splattered into his face. Classic. Wiping it away, he spun to his front where a gang of kids stood with snowballs. Kids from a public school. "You punks! I outta ---"

The first kid made a puppy-dog face, "Aw, is the wittle preppy boy gonna beat me up? No! No! Don't beat me up!" He was over-dramatizing. Darren's face soured. "Aw, you don't like the jokes? Then do something about it Prep."

The redhead narrowed his eyes sadistically, "I might just do that."

"C'mon, you wuss!" The second kid laughed. "C'mon, let's see if that school of yours showed you how to hang with the big mommas."

Anger built up within the teen and he clenched his fists, eyebrow twitching in suppressed rage. Julia caught his hand and held gently, forgetting about her skirt. "Forget about those idiots."

Duke took that moment to bend back for a second look. Julia kicked him blindly in the shins.

"Don't do it Darren. They just want to try and get you into trouble. Let's go."

"Ooh, are you going to listen to that bitch?" Another boy asked, cracking his knuckles, "A real man wouldn't hold back. C'mon prep, show us whatcha got."

Both Duke and Julia grabbed a hold of Darren's arms before he could lunge at the punks, and held him sharply.

They didn't want to see a fight today, not on their first day of Christmas Break anyway. Those kids were bad news from the start. They would be bad even if they went to a private school. For once, Darren listened to his friends and held back.

The gang of juveniles began to laugh. Darren Knotts never walked away from trouble. No one was around, they wouldn't see, besides his friends, but they knew.

His friends knew a deeper secret than anyone else. And his friends knew from that glint in his eyes that they were about to hold their tongues on the secret again.

"Don't kill them," Julia advised before the redhead spun back to the punks.

Those punks didn't look so cocky now.

They didn't even know what hit them before the strange redhead surfaced upon them, hands outstretched for a fight. The strange part? He was flying. With two sets of dragonfly wings on his back.

The first boy didn't know what hit him, because Darren executed the move as fast as his Uncle had taught him. Grabbed the Mud Boy with two fingers under his chin, heaved him up, and sent him flying into a pile of snow.

Then the next one came, but the redhead dodged that one too, did a roundhouse kick, and sent him flying into a trash can. Three left, two disposed with a simple magic that sent them careening into the air, and into the pine tree lot.

The last boy, the one that had called out to Darren first, stood quivering where he stood. This guy was flying --- he was actually flying! With wings. Fairy wings. And his teeth were sharp, his ears pointed --- and his eyes filled with black. Completely and utterly black.

"Oh God!" the kid shouted. "Don't hurt me!"

Wicked with delight, Darren shot forth again but finally landed on the ground with when his best friend tackled him. The hybrid tried to squirm up, but Duke held fast and secured him in a headlock. Julia motioned for the last boy to shoo.

"Go, now! If you don't want to end up like your friends."

The last boy ran for his life, and from upon a building, two curious eyes glinted at the redhead's peculiar talents.

Julia turned and found Darren struggling in Duke's grip. "Let go of me!" he hissed. "I wanted to ---"

"Dude, knocking one out was enough," Duke motioned to the unconscious boy groaning in the snow. "You didn't have to do it at all. Do you really want to hurt everyone you come into contact with?" When Darren tried to punch Duke, Duke weaved away and cuffed his friend on the side of the head. "Calm down or you'll hurt us too."

At this, Darren did calm down and begin to breath again. He let out a heavy sigh. His ears were normal again and his eyes were placid. No sign of wings either. "Sorry, I must have forgotten myself for a moment." Duke let go and grinned, as did Julia --- until an interesting sly voice interrupted.

Then all hell froze.

"What are you?"

The trio turned. Before them stood the infamous Artemis Fowl in a dark blue pullover.

"Fowl?" Darren croaked. Oh no, now he would be sent to a science lab and tested. He just knew it. Or at least that's what his father said when he sent his son away from Haven. His father had told him about Fowl, and how much of a nuisance he was. Even his Uncle advised him to steer clear of this awful Mud Boy.

Artemis stepped over to the snow-covered kid and pried his wallet out from the kid's dirty jacket. He never wanted anyone to realize he was mugged, but then again, anyone could prominently tell by the bruise ripening around his right eye. He counted the money within and then, finding the fair sum he had before, slipped it into his back pocket. "Yes, it's me, Darren Knotts, right?"

Damn, Fowl did know his name. That was worse. Science experiment life, here he came. "Why are you here?"

"I came for my wallet. That was a nice trick of disposing them. How did you do it?" His voice was so calm, Darren could tell that he knew something. Though, the rumor was, his mind was Wiped. That was true. It had to be.

"I learned the trick from my Pops," that was true. "It's nothing. But what is a git like you wandering the streets without your precious bodyguard?"

Artemis stiffened. "I wanted to go alone." Why were these kids asking, anyway? Would they mug him too? His rational side doubted it, but he could never be too sure these days. "Why are you all out?"

Duke answered lowly, "Because we wanted to. Is there a crime in that?"

"No. I just asked since you three seemed so interested in why I was out."

"And we just answered you smart-nosed b---"

"Stop," Julia commanded. "Both of you, stop." She glared to Darren and Duke. "He's just walking and will be gone soon, right?"

"Yes, if all affords well on my part," Artemis said and brought his hands into his fleece pockets. It had oddly grown cold all of a sudden. The draft from the north must have arrived, Artemis thought absentmindedly. Soon the roads would not be accessible at all.

"Then please will you leave us in peace?"

Artemis grinned, tapped the toe of his loafer on the pavement, and began on his way again. He tried not to look at them, or the pretty female with them, but his eyes did wander as he passed her. "You need to address your skirt."

Julia blushed and quickly closed her skirt back up. "Perv!"

"Perv?" he stopped, stricken with horror. "What do you --- I didn't look at anything."

"Sure," she rolled her eyes. "That's what they all say."

Artemis, in turn, mockingly rolled his eyes and traveled on. "Sorry."

They glared back. When he disappeared into the steadily drifting snow, the two boys allowed their jaws to drop.

The redhead stood at a fault. "Did he just say sorry?"

Julia nodded, "Yes, and I don't see what's so wrong with him." If they didn't know better, they would have thought she was grinning with delight. "Why do you hate him so? Both of you?"

"He snobby," Duke answered.

Darren narrowed his eyes, "He almost destroyed the peace between my Father's kind and my Mother's. He is also held accountable for arising hatred towards Mud People such as you both."

Julia sighed, "Did you witness it?"

"I heard from a birdie."

"Well, maybe that birdie was wrong."

----

"Did you see that?" The woman in red crooned from a perch among the buildings. A raven sat on her shoulder. Her newly adopted pet of choice. "This is better than I would have imagined. Artemis Fowl doesn't know of fairies! That Foaly screwed up this time! This is too good to be true."

The man beside her sighed, "I guess. Pity though," he took a cigar from his white tuxedo and lit it, fitting it gently between his lips, "because now, I do."

With a hand resting on her raven's head, the woman laughed elegantly and stood from her building-side seat. Her lean figure shone in the essence of the malevolent, sly beauty. "My dear Jon Spiro, how ever did you find us?" She asked sarcastically.

"How did you take on the appearance of a Human, Opal Koboi?" He puffed a ring of smoke and barked a laugh. "A feisty one at that."

Opal shrugged foxily and crossed her lets, letting a pale limb show from the slit at the side of her long evening dress. She had taken the appearance of a lounge singer. Carla Endwick of Germany. Her hair was cropped into a tight bun and her lips were lined with poison red lipstick. Not her cup of tea, but it would do. Besides, she'd like to see the LEPrecon figure out her identity now. "Do you really want to know?"

"Unless you would like to give me all of your wonderful secrets, my lady." Like a charming prince, he kissed her gloved hand. "Would you?"

"A hologram." she replied. "It can do the same for you, which means you can penetrate into Haven without flaw. We can combine our knowledge and understanding, machinery with logic. Nothing will stop us. Not even Artemis Fowl."

"Haven is ours," Jon Spiro smirked. "Merry Christmas to us. Should we start our busywork?"

"Why not?" Opal laughed. "It might be the best time. I suspect you know what to do?"

"Of course."

"Then the closest shuttle transport is in near the strip mall. Go, and remember what I said to do. I'll begin here. I think that young lady will do quite nicely, don't you?"

Jon Spiro looked at her somewhat baffled. "But I thought we were only going for Artemis Fowl?"

"We are," she replied, "but he needs a cell mate, doesn't he?"

Fwha. The evil chapter of doom. No, not really, right? Right. :)