Author's Note : Oh Frond. Here we are.
First off, a huge, gigantic, enormous thank you to Hartemis Shipper, Legedy11 (well done at spotting the Undertale hommage/reference !), LN, Pr. Cumulus and Kia Sunrise for your reviews ; and to everyone else who has every read, reviewed, followed and favorited the story. Just thank you so much.
Here's the epilogue, without further adue. I hope you will like it.
Disclaimer : Eoin Colfer is the author of the Artemis Fowl series, therefore I do not own any of its characters. Many elements of this fanfiction (including its title ^^) are also inspired or directly drawn from the 1998 Japanese anime 'Serial Experiments Lain' (GO WATCH IT) even though it is NOT a crossover.
Database #00 : Epilogue
EXCERPT FROM ARTEMIS FOWL II'S DIARY (CRYPTED DISK)
It's been a year now since I deleted my account, and logged out of the Wired for the last time.
I spent five months at the clinic ; four in the child psychiatry ward, but the first six weeks at the emergency department.
I don't have many recollections of that period ; I was crippled with withdrawal syndrom, erratically lucid, wavering from nightmares to hallucinations until I couldn't distinguish them apart, constant pain as a background noise. I regained consciousness and human form little by little, painstakingly ; and as soon as I became able to properly think and talk again, everyone – my parents, the doctors, the police – began to assault me with questions. What substance had I been taking, was it voluntarily, or who might have forced me to. What had happened to me. Where had Butler disappeared.
I faked amnesia.
Quite ironical, isn't it.
Afterwards, I retreated into detached silence and apparent indifference, going through addiction treatments, individual sessions, art and group therapies absent-minded at best, downright lethargic sometimes. I endured six different therapists ; all of them more blatantly incapable than the others. I deflected their various attempts at analyzing me with theorical questions, leading to psychological and philosophical debates, reassessing each one of their methods – managing to never talk about myself, all the while demonstrating their incompetence and incapacity to help me.
I couldn't manage to be as cynical and sardonic as I usually am with these kind of fools, though. The underlying atmosphere, in the child psychiatry ward – this mismatching of colorful corridors and plastic furnitures with sick infants crying all nights, and sedated teens roaming around the emergency exit doors –, was drawing all potential desire for mockery away from me.
And even if I knew the psychiatrists and psychologists were useless, for once, some part of me actually wished they could help.
This emotional weakness led me to do something very foolish with one of them : I tried to give him a clue.
I asked him why, in his opinion, the MRI scans showed traces of physical dependance in my brain, while the doctors didn't manage to find any kind of substance in my organism which might have caused it. It took him two sessions to figure an hypothesis that wasn't completely farfetched ; but in the end, he told me that he theoricized a part of my dependance symptoms as a manifestation of Butler's loss. Deducing that I was eaten up with remorse, and racked with the guilt of something atrocious regarding his disappearance.
After that, and even though I confirmed nothing, it became widely admitted that Butler was dead.
At first, it felt like a relief ; but I soon realized that ungodly rumors had started to be spread across the clinic.
I warned my parents, and the therapist was immediately reported and fired ; but the harm was already done. There were people claiming that I had been forced to order my own bodyguard's assassination – or various stupid ideas of the same caliber –, and the most delusional speculations about what Butler would have supposedly done to me ended up all over the Internet. Among these, attempted kidnapping and repeated sexual abuse were the most popular.
I denied any of this ; but because of my alleged amnesia, and unmistakable post-traumatic syndrome, nobody believed me.
Knowing that Butler's memory was being tarnished like this, by my fault, and that I couldn't do anything to stop, or undo it… It felt as if I had killed him again.
As of this moment, my ability to remain composed shattered, and I became more fragile than I've ever been before. If I managed to feign impassivity throughout the majority of my remaining hospitalization, I would sometimes loose complete control of myself, and burst into tears, unable to calm down before several hours. It happened when the clinic's cafeteria served a crème brûlée dessert ; or during Juliet's first and only visit. It also happened after Holly's departure.
She came to visit me, one night.
Of course, I'm mindwiped, to the eyes of the fairies ; Holly didn't manifest herself into the visible spectrum, nor talked to me. But as I was rolling in my bed, insomniac as usual, and turned to face the window, I noticed a faint shimmer in the air. I stared, for a few seconds ; and the shimmer disappeared. There is no way to tell for certain, obviously. But I know that it was Holly.
Since that moment, the fairies never approached me again. I've decided to respect that. Regarding all the troubles and horrors I have put them through by the past, I will not take the first step anymore.
If I and the fairies shall cross paths in the future, it will be their decision.
Finally, after those five months, the clinic's medical staff realized keeping me in wouldn't lead anywhere ; and I came back home.
Since then, I'm focusing on spending more time with my family ; especially my mother. We play a lot of music together. I've gotten back to my predilection instrument, and I'm working on a new piano and harp duet, that I plan on offering her for her birthday, next February.
Besides composing, I've resumed the science and art research projects I had left behind after the Glitches – except this time, I'm truly involved into them, and not waiting for something exciting to happen. To keep my mind distracted, I've also started tracking Hervé's lost painting, The Fairy Thief, across Europe.
If I manage to find its current location, I don't know if I'll try to steal it. Undoubtedly, that would require a solid plan.
Two months before Christmas, and with our family doctor's approval, I started reducing my daily medication. It's now been three days since I've completely quit the pills ; and I haven't had an insomnia in weeks. It's planned that I go back to St Bartleby on January the 14th, in nine days.
All in all, life is back to normal ; and everything seems to be okay.
…
Except it's not.
It's not okay.
Because Butler isn't here.
He isn't here, and it will never be okay anymore.
Even when my father was presumed dead, and my mother retreated in her attic, the manor had never felt that shallow and empty to me. There isn't a day passing where I don't feel the weight of his absence.
And Juliet's.
After she visited me at the clinic, she left Ireland, never to come back again. She wasn't fooled by my so-called amnesia, and begged me to tell her where Butler was.
But how could I answer ? What could I tell her ?
Sometimes, when I wake up in the morning, the guilt feels so huge and heavy I can't breathe. I'm pinned to my bed, gasping for air, unable to make a sound.
In those moments, I wish I could just revert back in time, and delete my memories with all the others. Oblivion becomes all I crave for. But I know that I've made the right choice. It was the only way I had to spare everyone… and never take the risk to see history repeating itself, allowing me to perpetrate these kind of horrors again. The only possible way.
I just wish I had someone to talk to.
There are days, where the pain becomes so unbearable I want to die.
During those darkest hours, thoughts of ending my own life have crossed my mind. Reality without the Wired feels too bleak ; life without Butler feels too dreary.
But those thoughts have never lasted long. Suicide would be like spitting on Butler's grave. I can't imagine a worst insult to his memory, and his sacrifice. I have to keep myself together, and keep going. That's the least I could do. Yet, sometimes, his sacrifice feels like a poisoned gift.
Butler's death kept me alive. But now, it is slowly driving me insane.
I am too dangerous of a person to have my memories erased. But it is just so painful to know. Having seen the world turn into Hell, but being the only one to remember. Having become a monster, and having nobody to share my mourning and my fears with. But it is the price I chose to pay.
It is my punishment. It is my burden.
A life of utter loneliness.
FOWL MANOR, IRELAND
Artemis stared at the computer screen, for a few seconds.
Then, his hands slowly drifted away from the keyboard, and he leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.
Behind him, the window was slightly open, and a cold January breeze made its way into the office. No more stacks of hard drives, advanced cooling system, CIA computer units and cables running all along the floor : the room had reverted back to its initial state, the only addition being a set of two chairs, in front of the desk.
Artemis sighed, silently.
Since he was back from the clinic, and judging from the outside, it was hardly possible to tell everything he had been through with the Wired. His cheeks were full again, and his skin, well, was pale as usual, but not cadaverous anymore.
Only in his ocean blue eyes, there was a subtle, concealed sadness. It was barely visible ; but Artemis had the feeling it would never fade away.
Come on, pull yourself together. They are waiting outside.
Artemis tilted his head towards the door, and a lump fell on his stomach.
He straightened on his seat, and closed the encrypted word-processing software where he kept his diary. Absent-mindedly, he drifted among the various opened Internet tabs, until he ended up on his inbox page.
Even though he had already read it about a thousand times before, the young Fowl flicked through Madame Ko's email once again.
Dear Mister Fowl,
I share your pain. It is a bodyguard's duty to protect his or her principal at all costs ; but the loss of a Blue Diamond is immense nonetheless, and today more than ever.
It was no mystery to anyone ; but your bodyguard was one of my best students. More than mere force and intelligence, he possessed real values, and a pure caring nature. It can prove to be a dangerous flaw, for most bodyguards ; but he was a true professional, and turned it into one of his biggest strengths. I shall always respect and honor his memory for that.
That being said, I am no fool. I warn each and every of my students against bonding with the principal ; but in a relationship such as the one you both experienced, a strong emotional connection was unavoidable. I believe it is relatively normal, and I understand it.
Though, there's one thing that I need you, mister Fowl, to understand.
I know you believe that your bodyguard is irreplacable. But you must trust me, and my experience : the bond you have forged with him won't ever disappear or fade.
The litany of life goes on. Your bodyguard's path is now over, but the mission he was given isn't. New bonds have to be made.
And it is not a treason.
Take all the time you need. I'm sending you the best people I have ; as every one of my graduates, they are highly-trained guardians, and exceptional people. I have no doubt you will find someone to take over on his mission, if you are ready to.
My sincere wishes, Mister Fowl, and all our condolences, from everyone here at the Academy who had the privilege to meet Domovoï Butler.
Leaning against his desk, Artemis gazed into the distance.
He had received that email about eight months ago ; and his first reaction had been to write a polite, but firm refusal reply. He hadn't sent it immediately, though. Knowing Madame Ko had probably blind-copied the same email to his parents, he would wait until dinner, to allow his mother to try and insist for him to accept.
Yet, much to his surprise, when he had informed his parents of his decision not to replace Butler, Angeline had nodded, quietly, and said nothing.
But later, that same evening, his father had come to see him in his bedroom.
" … When I was in Helsinki's hospital, and after I learned that the Major was dead ", he had said after sitting on the bed, next to his son, " Madame Ko sent me a very similar email. "
At this moment, the elder Fowl had paused ; and Artemis knew he would always remember the composure wearing off his father's face, revealing saddened, melancholic features.
" I… well. Much like you, I have always grown up with the Major by my side ; even if he only became my bodyguard when I turned seventeen, as you know. His death has been… is still very hard for me to put up with. I gave much thought about it ; but ultimately, I turned down Madame Ko's offer. So I… I just want you to know, son… that whatever you choose to do, I will respect your decision. "
The two Fowls had stared at each other, for a few moments. Then, Artemis had broke down into tears, and stayed in his father's comforting arms, until he fell asleep. Somehow, relieved.
The following morning, he had replied to Madame Ko's email – agreeing to meet her candidates.
.
With a sigh and a few clicks, Artemis closed his mail inbox, the lump in his stomach becoming more acrid. He logged into the Manor's surveillance system, and enhanced camera 37's live feed.
There are only three left, now.
Artemis' hand tightened on the computer mouse, as he stared at the corridor's video retransmission. Madame Ko had sent him a little more than a dozen candidates to take on Butler's position ; but the young Fowl hadn't seen a single one of them in a job interview yet.
For the past eight months, they had patiently waited in the corridor, and Artemis had been in his office, bracing himself ; but each day, he ended up postponing all the appointments.
He really tried. But he just wasn't ready yet.
As the wait prolonged itself, for weeks, then months, some of the candidates stopped showing up. They left Ireland, little by little – bored, annoyed, or simply appointed somewhere else ; until there remained only a small handful of them. Until yesterday, there were still five people waiting. Soon, if this kept going on, there wouldn't be anyone left.
Artemis leaned closer to the screen, his chin resting on his palms. He forced himself to be focused, and he stared at the three remaining Blue Diamonds, seated next to each other along the corridor wall. He slightly tilted his head. Among them, there was a woman.
The young Fowl had memorized all the names, IDs and resumes Madame Ko had sent him along with her fifteen candidates ; he recognized the woman as Chimrit Khayr-Faharani.
At fifty years old, she was one of the oldest still-active bodyguards he had heard of. Israeli, born in Tel-Aviv in 1953, former contemporary dancer and political activist, married and divorced, she had entered Madame Ko's Academy in 1980, after an eleven years international dancing career at the Batsheva and various other modern dance companies. In 1983, one year after graduating from the Academy, she had entered the service of Bahareh Moulih, an old excentric Egyptian choreographer engaged in feminist art, and served as her bodyguard for almost twenty years.
Until, in 2001, Bahareh Moulih died ; from the only thing Chimrit Khayr-Faharani, or any other bodyguard, couldn't protect her against.
Old age.
Artemis blinked, slowly, staring at the bodyguard's face.
Chimrit Khayr. "She who keeps, benevolent". That's a pretty name.
The videosurveillance live feed's images were a bit noisy, so he couldn't quite distinguish her expression ; but the woman's matte features still emanated a calm, yet fiery energy. She was small, but visibly muscled and flexible – everything, in her seemingly loose but focused attitude, evoking a feline predator at rest. There were grey strands in her dark brown braided bun, and a large knife-fight scar crossing her entire left cheek, from her eye's inner corner to the bottom of her ear. When he noticed she was wearing worn-out leather military boots with her black Chanel suit, Artemis' lips stretched into a small crooked smile.
As if she felt the young Fowl's gaze upon her, Chimrit raised her head towards the camera ; and the lump in the boy's stomach lifted off, a little bit. Something, in the Israeli woman's orange-brown eyes, touched him.
A subtle, concealed sadness he recognized far too well.
Go on, take the chance. That's the moment. You'll never be truly ready, anyways.
Artemis hesitated, for a few seconds. Then, he stood up, and readjusted his tie and cufflinks, swallowing.
As he headed for his office's door, his heart pounding with apprehension, the voice echoed in his head again.
Don't be so nervous, you will be fine. She seems like a nice lady.
His hand on the doorknob, Artemis rolled his eyes, annoyed but an hint of amusement in his tone, as he muttered to himself.
" Just shut up, Selene. "
.
The door creaked as he opened it, making the three Blue Diamond bodyguards raise their heads at him. The young Fowl stood still, unsure for a second. Slowly, he turned towards Chimrit Khayr-Faharani.
Their gazes met, for an instant.
Then, with a deep breath, Artemis stepped aside, giving way into the office, his ocean blue eyes locked into Chimrit's.
" … Come on in. "
.
.
.
... the end... as of yet :-)
I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it ; even it was not a fluff story ;-) I'm a bit sad that I didn't manage to hold on to my updating schedule for the last chapters, but I'm just so freaking proud of having wrapped up this project, it's just so insane to think that I had it in the back of my head since mid-high school and now it's COMPLETED. Holy freaking Frond.
Even though it might take a bit of time (because, well, school, alas), you will definitely hear of me again. I have several Artemis Fowl fanfics planned, and I promise that none of them includes a surprise major character death :-D among these projects, we notably have an anthology of oneshots about Artemis' childhood, a psychological thriller focusing on the infamous Fowls father-and-son relationship...
... and the sequel to Artemis Experiments Weird, it that shall interest anyone else but me. :-)
Thank you again for reading the story, and to anyone who has shown their support - Kia Sunrise, Rival Argentica, Hartemis Shipper and LN especially, the most fearful reviewers whose sweet feedbacks have constantly warmed my heart up, and kept me going !
Feel very, VERY free to review, even if the story is completed. I plan on re-proofread the entire thing down, and in any case I really love feedback - sharing with others and improving myself thanks to constructive criticism is the main reason why I want to create :-)
Well, that's it now. All is said, so... see you all soon.
With lots of love from France,
Dolly