Maria

---o---

"Es un placer servirle, Señor Butler."

"El placer es nuestro."

Artemis reflected on his words, escaped from his lips without a second thought. Since when was he the leading voice on service hiring? That was usually Butler's work, not his. And interjecting a pleasant sentence to attract attention was certainly not his usual style. It made Butler's half-raised brow all too reasonable. What had gone into him?

Maria swept out of the building wearing an ecru mousseline coat over Chanel's trademark little black dress. With her black wavy hair flying behind her, she reminded Artemis of Juliet in her confident stride, although the limousine driver had little of the girl's vivacious temper. Oh, but Mediterranean women are hardly smooth-tempered, the boy thought with an inward chuckle… which brought a scowl to his lips almost at once. Had he been another person, he would have slapped himself. What good was for him to analyze her temper on a moment like this? He had to be careful; one single mistake due to his lack of discipline – outrageous, really – and they might as well pack their stuff and go back to Fowl Manor without achieving their objective… yet again.

But the previous times were hardly my fault, Artemis defended himself from… himself.

---o---

"Por aquí por favor, señor…"

"Fowl. Artemis Fowl, el Segundo."

Had she not read the contract? Artemis started thinking she might not be very intelligent, after all. Her hesitation on saying his name was unforgivable; such lack of professionalism was the reason why the Butlers were so valuable on the protection services area. The boy half-wished he had more than one Butler in whose hands to put his ventures.

But then… he hadn't really given her the time to finish the sentence, had he? A slight pang of guilt prodded his stomach, as he went into the car, followed closely by Butler. Maybe… maybe she did know his name, but wasn't really sure on how to pronounce the foreign word, or maybe the whole issue was in his prolific mind only, and he shouldn't give much thought to it, after all. Repressing a sigh of exasperation about his behaviour, Artemis tried to justify his mind tangents recalling similar situations in the past, but to his chagrin, he found none. He hadn't really paid much attention to his occasional servants' words.

---o---

The curve of Maria's neck was the last sight Artemis had of her, before climbing on the car. She pulled up her hair with an expert hand, and crossed the spiralling shape of her thick mane with a beige pin, not one strand falling out of the improvised bun. For a fleeting moment, Artemis wished they were on a Bentley rather than a limousine, for then he would be closer to the driver's seat and perhaps he could catch a drift of her perfume…

Artemis suspected Butler had had his eyes on him for a long time now, but it didn't stop him from feeling the bodyguard had heard that thought of his; Butler had a subtle half-amused, half-worried eyebrow raise directed at him from his opposed limousine seat. The boy was ready to swear it hadn't been there last time he looked.

Avoid confrontation, change the topic, don't make too much of it, he thought, adopting a casual posture on the seat.

"How old do you think Maria is?"

So much for changing the topic. Artemis felt he might as well have asked if Butler found the driver pretty. Butler's lips threatened on curving in a smile, but when he answered, his voice was layered with deceiving seriousness.

"Her curriculum said twenty-four, but from my observations, I can safely say her maturity level is beyond that age, perhaps twenty-eight or twenty-nine."

Artemis nodded. He had come to a similar conclusion, but he really, really wanted to be sure.

Nothing more.

Right?

---o---

This cannot continue, he thought, focusing his mind on the passing landscape view of Las Ramblas. His eyes went from a juggler around whom a small throng of onlookers – mostly tourists, from the cameras hanging from their necks – had gathered, to a young woman arranging an assorted variety of fruits on a street shelf. Her curvy frame held the boy's gaze longer than the juggler had, and Artemis had to admit he was having trouble containing his hormones' desires. It made him wonder if his intrusive wishes were going to spoil his plans any time soon, and in a brief display of theatrical humour, he pondered on the idea of locking himself up to help his schemes succeed.

Outrageous, he thought, a bitter smile curving his lips. His current state of mind will surely put him off track from the current mission, if he kept on like that. Luckily, they were nearly at Casa Milà, and as the limousine pulled over and Butler got ready to step out – his bodyguard duties required him to come out first to do a check-over of the surroundings – Artemis could do no less than sigh in inward relief about getting off the car and away from enticing temptation.

But his fresh resolve of focusing – at last! – on the plan received a severe blow as the object of his distraction opened the door for them, and Artemis finally caught a waft of scent from her perfume – strong citrus with a heavy hint of honey – along with an eyeful of her complete attire – said little black dress was littler than he remembered. It was amazing, even to him, the way it took a fleeting instant of combined stimuli for him to go back to the old thoughts.

Ave Maria, he mused, catching the first words and language his mind could produced among the maelstrom of feelings his body had rushed into. As he brushed the sides of his suit, trying to control the insubordinate shaking of his own hands, he wondered just how bad it would look if he actually asked Maria out.

Sure it'd work, he scorned himself, something he had taken to do when one of those unruly and disorderly thoughts invaded him. Even if Butler and his parents' opinion of it were positive, there was still the issue of her age. She was ten years his senior, for goodness sake! Surely there would be other girls around his age who'd willingly go with him on a date…

---o---

Like that girl at the restaurant, Artemis thought offhandedly, his eyes wandering around the sight of a curly-haired blonde girl, of around twelve. Upon realizing he was 'doing it again', he shook himself from it, and took a good look at the surroundings.

That's it, concentrate. Butler will not like this, but I have to position myself wherever the view is the most convenient, which would be… across the street.

Twenty minutes later, Butler was occupied doing his rounds, circling Artemis and training his eyes on every possible corner. He didn't look content, but Artemis was far from noticing.

"Will Maria be picking us up?"

It was a perfectly valid question for Artemis; it occurred to the boy that the busy pathway offered little parking availability, and he didn't want to complicate matters for their driver. But for the way Butler shot him a look, he realized it was not nearly the kind of thing he used to work his mind around, and only wished he had kept his mouth shut.

"I expect so, yes. Unless the company decides to make a driver's switch, in which case it will be Rafael – forty-four, Artemis – who will pick us up."

"Good." He said, half-heartedly. A switch? Not likely, but plausible nonetheless. He wondered if Rafael would be more efficient than Maria – with learning names and the like – and for a second there, he half-wished the company would have send him first, so he would not have to waste his time with such idle wondering.

But then, weren't these sort of thoughts common between boys of his age? He could clearly remember Juliet's boyfriends and admirers, hanging around the manor in their vehicles, some expensive, some just flashy and pushing Butler's patience with their questions about his sister – not that any of them ever faced the muscled bodyguard, but he had a way of finding out – and now he sided with them to an extent. He recognised their symptoms – flickering gaze, emotional anxiety, and the questions, the lot of them all-too-inappropriate and vain – in himself, and vaguely wondered how long it would be until he'd hang around someone's dwelling with a request of that sort.

Thus, making a fool of myself, he thought with a sour scowl. In all his years, Artemis Fowl the Second had never made a fool of himself. The single thought repulsed him, and as his brow furrowed in the acknowledgement of what a disgusting situation that would be, his eyes roved around Passeig de Gràcia, for once focusing on the operation he had put together.

Although, for one such as Maria…

---o---

At this point, Artemis had become fascinated with his own psyche. It was not every day that he managed to lose his head over a woman he had know for quite a short time, let alone someone hired to provide a service. But such seemed to be the nature of the pubescent male: simple and direct in everyday ventures, yet easily drawn to a pair of pretty eyes. Artemis was surprised that even he, one of the most brilliant minds in the world, had succumbed to such a mortifying manner of behaviour. But the more he recognised the symptoms of classical hormonal attraction, the more he convinced himself nature was not going to spare him the suffering. Would he be writing poetry about the beauty of the opposite gender? Would he let himself adrift on the sea of sensations the sight of a beautiful girl inspired in him? Were not the blonde curls of the girl at the restaurant akin to a swirling shower of liquid gold?

Artemis shook his head; resistance seemed futile. Would he just have to let himself be carried away, in order to break the vicious circle? The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it, his mind quoted him, and for a second, he pondered the possibility.

Not viable, he rebuked himself with a slight headshake. I shall not succumb, not when there is so much at stake.

Artemis looked at his watch. No sign of the demon; it wasn't time yet, though. The ridiculous patch of shade the trees around provided was not enough to protect him from the heat, but it was something he had prevented. To avoid dehydration by the long wait under the sun, Artemis had consumed enough liquids to last him the afternoon. But still, the heat made his lids feel heavy, in spite of his daily vitamin ingestion. It didn't improve his mood that his mind pulled him into unexpected tangents, either.

---o---

"Where do you think Maria is?"

The question had been out of Artemis' lips before he could reason it; he had sought for a topic of conversation with Butler more to avoid his mind taunting him with the thought of their beautiful driver, or the girl at the restaurant, but apparently, Freud had been right from the beginning. There was no escaping this; he might as well surrender control to the enemy and forget he had a will.

"I suppose she is circling the area while waiting for my call, since just parking the limousine in a crowded avenue would be highly uncomfortable for other drivers, if not downright illegal for the owner." Butler's impeccable answer came like a bucket of cold water on him; what business of him was to find out the exact location of their driver when they clearly didn't need her?

To hide his blush, Artemis turned his face to Casa Milà, but his eyes met the confident stride of the blonde girl on their way, and he jerked his neck away as if he had seen something he ought not to. Which he had. She'd probably come from a bathroom break, and the way she tossed her hair – so carelessly and yet, so attractively – seemed too much for him to endure without losing his mind.

Artemis checked his watch again, tapping nervously over it. Soon, he said to himself, not wanting to comment on what he had seen. In all truth, he had had a sudden urge to drop it all, and enter the restaurant with all his confidence – and bodyguard, most importantly -, maybe ask for a table close to the girl's and send a few glances in her direction. Perhaps she'd look back, and he'd be able to strike conversation, which luckily would resemble something intelligent – goodness knew Artemis would have been glad to have someone to discuss his theories with.

But again, he felt a slight heat on his cheeks that had little to do with the sun. The recurrent thought of Maria surprised him in the middle of his little fantasy, and made him realise that he'd probably not discuss his theories with whatever girl he considered pretty; he was quite aware that the rare mixture of genius and beauty happened very few times – the very trait of outstanding brilliance was scarce in the world, he reflected –, and that it would be naïve from him to expect the first girl he set his eyes on to match his interests, and above all, his intellect. Besides, in all truth, it probably wouldn't be in his best capacity to discuss the finest issues regarding quantum physics, for example, if such a pair of pretty eyes watched him across the table.

His wristwatch signalled a minute before the right time. Artemis grew restless, although in him, it was no more than a slight stir of the head accompanied with a flickering gaze. Still, in the unreasonable state his mind was in – for he would not recognise his musings on the opposite gender as valid just yet – he had not betrayed his cool exterior. Even if I must drift into the uncertainty of puberty, I should not make a fool of myself, he thought, concentrating on the upcoming moment, which will decide again if their venture had been successful or not.

The minute of truth came over him, seconds ticking by, and Artemis got ready for it. His concentration granted him a blissful moment of peace as he swept the street with dark blue eyes, barely registering the golden hair locks surrounding the gaze directed at the very same spot.

---o---

However, it was not happening. No demon at the other side of the rift, apparently; it made his anticipation crumble under the weight of his dying hope. The old thoughts came back to him, mixing themselves with his last shreds of optimism – maybe I got the time wrong?

But as the old thoughts overcame him – and his frustration got mixed with a mild disappointment – his mind resumed building a case for his raging hormones. What if nothing happened this time? Would it be reasonable to go to that restaurant and try, for once, what he had been thinking for almost an hour? Would he gather enough courage to join the girl at her table, or to ask Maria out, or to put an end to the troublesome issue of puberty, even if he had to make himself blind?

And more importantly, why did it look like the girl at the restaurant was looking back at him? Was she trying to get his attention, or perhaps…?

But no, she can't be, he mused. Why doesn't it come?

"Why must you circle so, Butler?"

---o---

This was a songfic to Blondie's "Maria", but since this site does not allow songfics, I had to take the lyrics out. There's a complete version at in case anyone's interested, but I think this one stands on its own as it is. There are slight edits from the other version, and after taking out the lyrics, I felt some grouping was in order, thus the sections.

Concrit and a beta much appreciated.