"Yes, thank you Specialist. Over and out." Holly ended her last work call for the day, and casually tossed her high-tech communicator handset onto the desk, where it landed on a pile of biodegradable candy wrappers, a pile which was rapidly growing. She'd started having cravings recently. She leaned back in her chair to ease the pressure on her stomach, and blew out a sigh, idly taking in her home office's surroundings. End of shift at last.
A voice sounded behind her. "Ready?"
Holly nearly jumped out of her skin. "D'arvit, Artemis, you have got to stop doing that!" She turned to face her husband who had, once again, snuck up behind her.
He seemed genuinely remorseful. "Sorry. But, honestly, what was I to do? A knock announcing my presence would have startled you just the same, I'd think."
"No, it wouldn't have. Try it some time. You'd think after forty odd years someone would have taught you what doors are for."
"Er, right. So, are you ready?"
"For what?"
"Very funny. I refer to, of course, the daily checkup you've had every day for some months now. Come on down the hall. We should be able to tell the gender soon, you know. Perhaps even today."
The mutual decision to try for a child was not an easy one to come to. They both wanted it, but Artemis had the (admittedly valid) desire to not see his wife die anytime soon. His fear of complications in the pregnancy causing Holly's death was so severe, and still was, that he was essentially playing doctor 24/7.
"I'm not playing doctor. I am a doctor," he had pointed out on numerous occasions. "And a cognoscente of elfin anatomy, at that."
The very idea of having biological children wasn't even in either of their headspaces until relatively recently, when a Haven archaeological dig (or a "blasphemous tomb raid unsanctioned by Danu," as a few Book-thumping religious fairy groups had called it) uncovered some ancient Centaurian texts. This had perked a certain Mr. Foaly's interest, who joined the translation team. As it turned out, the ancient text rather indisputably described the existence of human-elf hybrids. It was possible, then- or at least it was, a thousand years ago. The existence and possibility of these human-elf-hybrids had been censored by the fairy dynasties long ago, but now it was public knowledge again (much to the dismay of the Book-thumping religious fairy groups, who were now even more outraged than usual, something no one thought possible). Foaly had immediately forwarded the news to his favorite interspecies married couple.
The ancient text had referred to them as "mud fairies." Artemis and Holly had floated the notion of kids before- but in an abstract way only, as in kids are nice and maybe someday; wouldn't that be something? Maybe we could adopt.
When they found out having children of their own was a real possibility now, Holly had been thrilled. Artemis had been thrilled too. Artemis then followed up that elation with a rapid onset case of the worries. "We can't possibly do it, Holly. There could be medical complications."
"Complications?" Holly had scoffed. "What does that even mean? Either I die or I don't. And I'm not going to die. I'll be fine," she insisted repeatedly.
"I'm surprised you even want a child to this extent," said Artemis in an attempt to dissuade her, even though his heart wasn't in it. "Your independence would be greatly lessened, you know."
"Ha. My independence has been 'greatly lessened' ever since someone decided to worm their way inextricably into my life. Not that I'm complaining."
Holly's confidence that everything would be fine (a trait Artemis sometimes lovingly referred to as recklessness) wasn't shared by her husband, but Artemis' own happiness at the mere thought of raising a child with the woman he loved eventually caught up with what he felt was his better judgement. Elves can only have children once every twenty years, and they had a window approaching.
Before Artemis agreed, though, he had laid out conditions, one of which was that he had to be allowed to perform at least one full diagnostic clinical welfare check on Holly every day.
They walked down the main hall of their house, from Holly's office to Artemis' lab.
"After you," smiled Artemis, holding the lab door open for Holly. It was only a superfluous gesture, though. The doors were, of course, completely automated, part of the home laboratory Artemis had custom-designed, in the house Artemis had custom-designed, in the Haven City suburbs Artemis really wished he could have custom-designed. No roundabouts! And here I thought you People were advanced!
"You're in a decent mood today," commented Holly, passing through the door and climbing the two steps up to the too-large patient exam table with the casual nature of having done it more than a hundred times now. A ramp she had refused outright (I'm not an invalid, Artemis) but a step-stool was a necessary evil since she didn't want to go parkour and jump up on the furniture while carrying a child, either. Without too much protest, because she knew it was the right thing in the end, she'd also accepted Trouble Kelp's directive that she do only office work for the duration of her pregnancy.
"What can I say? I've been encouraged by the data of late." Artemis donned a stethoscope.
"That's my Arty. The only person I know who gets hot and bothered by preliminary lab data."
"Actually-"
Holly held up a finger. "Yeah, yeah. I know. I heard it as soon as I said it. But let's leave Foaly out of this discussion."
Artemis smiled once more. "As you wish." Then he checked all her vitals, diligently hand-writing every detail on his charts. This isn't the kind of data I'm willing to lose in a system crash, he had said. But I scan every page into the computer just the same. There could be a fire.
"So, why the upbeat mood? Was scaring me in my office really such a high point? I know you do that on purpose."
Artemis got serious. "When you're pregnant? Not on your life. It was entirely unintentional."
Holly nodded respectfully. "Fair enough. So, then, why the upbeat? It's almost as if you're not deathly afraid something will happen to me for once."
"I still am," he admitted. "But my relatively jocund mood, I think, is from the prospect of confirming the child's sex today. That we've gotten this far with no complications has me... cautiously optimistic for the rest of your term."
"You're not calling it a fetus anymore. That's a good sign, too."
Artemis' body language tensed as he turned away to prepare the visual scanner, the high-tech fairy equivalent of an ultrasound.
"That is a good sign, right?" prodded Holly.
"Well, it's a double edged sword." Artemis nervously touched a few keys on the device. "We're crossing the threshold of when it's safest to, er, abort... We can technically still do it, but it's getting further along."
Though she was behind him, Artemis felt Holly bristle at the mention of abortion all the same.
"Just an observation, nothing more. Now, ready to be scanned?"
Another one of Artemis' conditions was that abortion in the case of a health issue was an option on the table. The conversation around that topic, taking place before their final decision on whether to conceive, had been more of a fight than a conversation- the worst in their two decades of marriage. Evidently, the People didn't love abortion. Their already low birth rate discouraged it, but also, according to Holly, fairies with magic have a very unique, potent bond with their unborn children. Severing it before its time would be worse than losing a limb. It was not a pleasant fight.
"I cannot lose you," Artemis had sobbed that night after a very heated hour, grasping her hand, which was curled into a fist. "If you died, I'd be nothing. I'd just be a lonely man, living out my centuries in grief. I might not even be able to do that much."
"So you'd rather lose our child." Holly's tone by this point was still cold, but getting slightly warmer as she saw just how desperate he was.
"Not in those terms, no, God no," Artemis had moaned.
"I just don't understand why you're so certain that my getting pregnant will lead to my death. I'll be fine."
"How can you be so casual about this?"
"I'm not! Far from it! You've just got to trust me, and have faith that it will turn out alright. I know it will. I'm not some weakling."
Artemis sighed. "I do have faith... In your spirit, your steadfast resolve... Just not in, you know, the biological mechanics of a human child in an elfin womb. And certainly not in some great omniscient power that will make sure everything is all well and good. We've gotten lucky sometimes over the years, but we've also lost people. I won't rely on the universe's good graces here. Not for something this important. There has to be a failsafe you're on board with."
Now Holly sighed. "We've certainly had our share of misfortune over the years."
Artemis chuckled mirthlessly. "Exactly. Look, I don't want to lose either of you. In the first few months, it wouldn't even yet be a- I don't know. I shouldn't say that; I don't want to define myself into a corner or presume to understand the elfin mother-child magic bond that apparently takes hold rather early. All I know is, all the options need to be on the table. You're all I care about, Holly. In fact, look here." Artemis stood up on his tiptoes and reached his hand as high as it would go, not quite touching their house's ceiling. "Here's you. This is where you are on my priority spectrum." Then Artemis lowered his hand all the way to the floor. "And here's everything else." He grasped her hand again, which had relaxed somewhat. "I don't say that just to adulate you. It's not blarney. I really mean it. The last thing I want to do is abort, but if the data, the health data isn't looking good, and by that I mean, it looks like you're going to die and the child can't be saved and the only way to save you is to abort-"
"Both me and our child dying to my stubbornness in the first trimester wouldn't make much sense in that case, would it."
"Right! Exactly!" exclaimed Artemis. "If both of you can survive and be healthy and happy, great! Wonderful! But if things are going wrong, you're my number one concern. You always will be. That's all I'm asking. Let me monitor you every day, track the fetus' growth, your vitals, everything. I wouldn't ask you to abort unless it were to save your life. And I'd leave the final decision to you, of course. Just, please, be open to it, for my sake. Don't try to tough out a losing battle, if it comes to it. Please."
Holly, as she often did, found herself swayed by Artemis. "Alright."
Back in the present, Holly was lying on the table, shirt hiked up. Artemis held the scanner up to her stomach, which had started showing a bump fairly recently. "Praise be to fairy technology," he quipped.
"Beg pardon?" she murmured, trying to sneak a peak at the handheld display.
"In human wards they have to spread cold gel on people to see anything, remember?"
Holly laughed. "Oh yeah! That stuff. Did I ever tell you about the time we caught a Hawaiian elf trying to smuggle fish in that stuff?"
Artemis smiled. "You did."
Holly groaned. "Ugh. If I can't remember what I've told you in the past twenty years, I'm gonna really sound like a broken record after two hundred."
"And I'll still listen to it."
"Hey, that's a good line." Holly punched him in the shoulder. "Now, show me the screen."
"Nothing to see. It's just a big blurry blob at the moment. I'm working on it." Artemis tapped some settings and maneuvered the scanner about.
"Hey, that's our big blurry blob you're talking about."
"Alright, I've got it. It's definitely in a better position than last time."
"The kid?"
"Right. We should be able to see its, er, you know. Look. No, wait. Hang on. Oh."
"Well, I can't see squat unless you show me the damn screen." Holly was close to yanking the thing out of Artemis' hands. But there was no need. Artemis finally held the picture so Holly could see it. He was seemingly stunned at something. "What is it?" she asked.
"Look," offered Artemis unhelpfully.
"I'm looking! It's a picture of a pregnancy that's coming along. Looks like a growing baby in there. Same as last time."
"Yes, but this time we can clearly also see what it's not growing."
It took her a second. "Oh. It's a girl." She looked to Artemis for confirmation, not quite sure how to process this yet.
"Uh-huh." Artemis was dazed.
Holly was slightly worried at Artemis' reaction. "What's the problem? Is there a problem?"
"Well, it's just that..." Artemis began.
"Yes?"
"Well, I don't know what to do with a girl."
Holly whacked him fairly hard. "Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?!"
Artemis was pulled out of his daze by the bodily harm. "Well, I just, you know. There's no girls in my family. I don't even know if I've seen one."
"You've seen girls, Artemis."
"Obviously. I mean baby girls."
"I imagine they look a lot like baby boys. Now what's the problem? Did you have your heart set on raising a boy named Artemis Fowl the Third?"
Artemis the Second reflexively smoothed his hair back. "I... no, not exactly. I just assumed it'd be a boy, name notwithstanding. And may I remind you, we agreed to no discussion of names until after they're born. It makes it too personal in case of, you know."
Holly crossed her arms defensively. "Right. Your third condition. And I'm to believe you've given no thought to names whatsoever this whole time? Give me a break."
"Well, I certainly wasn't thinking about bringing an 'Artemis III' into the world. Were you?"
"I was, actually."
"Oh. That's... I don't know what that is. Flattering? Insulting? But I guess it's moot now, isn't it. We're having a girl."
Holly was lost in thought for a few moments, then she smiled.
Artemis chuckled awkwardly. "It's moot now... Right?"
"Not necessarily..."
Artemis Julia Fowl, daughter of Holly and Artemis Fowl, was born later that year.
