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P.S. Sword

Hartemis Shipper

and to the Guests who didn't leave a name.

I hope you got as much enjoyment out of reading this as I did out of writing it. Thank-you so much for taking the time to let me know that you were reading along. It really is the only thing that keeps me posting instead of writing it and keeping this all to myself. Hell, it probably wouldn't even make it out of my head, if I'm honest. So yeah, here's to you guys.

WARNINGS: This is it, the final chapter. Of this fic, anyway. Enjoy!

EPILOGUE

'ULTIMATE'

Definition: The final, or best example of its kind

Fowl Manor, Dublin

Xandr had not seemed surprised when she told him that his wife had left without so much as a goodbye.

"Yes, she does that," he said, in plain acceptance, swirling suds over the plates in the dishwater.

"But why?" Theresa asked, as she dried the washed ones. It had been a few hours since their chat in the woodland and she had put Dom to bed, before coming to break the news it had seemed the Butler patriarch had already known.

"She doesn't like goodbyes," Myles chipped in. "Never has. You're lucky she even told you she was going. Normally she's just here for breakfast one minute and you turn around to offer her the milk and she's gone."

"It doesn't bother you?" Theresa asked both of them.

"You get used to it," Xandr sighed. "She'll be back."

"She said some strange stuff. Out in the woods, I mean."

"Stranger than usual?" Myles snorted, taking the last plate she had finished drying and putting it back in the cupboard. On a high shelf, Theresa noticed with an internal eye-roll as he closed the door on the crockery. She had been trying to train him to leave them lower down so she could reach them without resorting to the indignity of getting a chair. It had taken her months of constant daily nagging to get Beckett to conform, so she didn't hold out much hope on that front.

"If she was here she'd clout you for saying that," she said instead, deciding to leave the full recounting of the conversation she had had with Maud for a later date.

"Ah well, my ears are safe from cauliflowering for another wee while," Myles said with a shrug, noticing his job as 'putter away' was finished.

"Not if I follow my orders to look out for you," Theresa smirked, raising a hand threateningly.

"She told you to do that?" he scoffed, kicking out a chair from under the table and sitting down heavily onto it. "Bloody hell; I am screwed."

He rolled his eyes at her, pulling that face - the one no Fowl would ever catch more than a glimpse of. The unprofessional one. The snarking, smirking, 'suck on that' face. The one that only appeared when he was as 'off duty' as it was possible for him to get. The side of The Major that was Myles.

His eyes glinted at her, bright with mischief, baiting her for a response to that comment.

Maud was right. She did love him.

Maybe she should have some sort of conversation with him.

Or rather, she would talk and he would valiantly try to avoid giving any sort of response...

"Ungrateful shite," she tutted, flicking the tea-towel at the back of his head so that it snapped loudly.

Hmm, thought Xandr, watching them. Inflicting minor pain before she got too emotional? - perhaps she wasn't quite as much of a stranger in the family as it first appeared.

"Ow," Myles muttered, rubbing at the base of his skull. "You don't have to take her word for word, you know that right?"

"I do. I just like beating you up a little."

"I'm still recuperating, in case you'd forgotten," he groused.

"Only when it suits you," his father drawled, holding his hand out for the towel. Theresa handed it to him and Myles was glad – having been on the receiving end of his father's version of a tea-towel snapping before – that the man merely used it to dry off his hands. "Don't think I haven't noticed you've been down in the garage."

"I... I had to at least look..." he said, trying to block the traumatic mental image of the state of his beloved Bentley, laid under a sheet in the mechanic workshop. It would be easier to scrap her, but if his father had his way, he would have some more downtime than usual to start fixing her up again. An evening project to keep him from getting bored.

"Aaand the gym," Xandr continued, raising an eyebrow.

"Just… easing myself back into some light exercise," Myles said, meekly – if that was possible for such a giant. "Stretches and so on..."

"Rest," Xandr said firmly. "Until the month's over."

"Tomorrow then," Myles said. "Excellent."

"Next month," Alexandr corrected him dryly.

"Until February? Are you joking? What am I going to do sat around on my arse for four weeks?" his son complained, for all the world like the grounded teenager he once was. "I can't fix the car all day and make it last that long!"

"Oh I'm sure we can find you something," Theresa smiled. "We could go somewhere - I'll take Dom out of school on trauma grounds. Spin some story or other. School never does anything for the first few weeks of the year anyway."

"Seriously? And what are you going to do about work?"

"Oh don't you worry about that," Xandr said with a growling chuckle. "I'm paying her to be your minder."

"My minder? Jesus Christ…" Myles muttered.

"Yes. Since you so obviously need one," said his father. "Now where would you like to go? Home or away?"

"I'm not going anywhere," he grumbled.

"Home then," Theresa said. "Fair enough. Saves all the passport palaver at borders."

"Why do I feel like I'm being ganged up on here?"

"Your mother posted orders before she left. Rest and rehab. Besides that; you need to lie low for a reasonable amount of time that people don't ask too many questions. She may have been able to get away with vouching for us three and the boy, but not even my Maud can convince her friends of much more than that."

"I'm not going to ask about the friends," Myles said, wisely. "But I am going to ask; what the hell was she thinking ordering me to take a holiday?"

"Ah come on – it'll be fun!" Theresa grinned. "Dom will love it, at least."

Myles sighed. He wasn't getting out of this one.

And, if he let himself admit it, after the last time he had thought he 'wasn't getting out of' a situation, he couldn't pretend he wasn't just a tiny bit pleased…

"Oh alright. Let him pick what we do then. So long as it's not bloody Disney Land…"

"Disney Land?" she snorted. "Do you even know your nephew?"

"Alright," he grouched. "I suppose at least I can trust him to pick something exciting…"

"Ah-ah," she warned. "No excitement. Mundane, dreary activities only. I'm thinking… Renting a VW, going around the country looking at castle ruins."

"In January? Do you want us all to catch hypothermia? May as well go camping. In Scotland. Least there's no midgies at this time of year…"

"Spain then. Spain's always hot – right? I know someone over there, if I can get hold of him…"

"I told you - I don't want to travel…" he grumbled.

"To hell with what you want – if you won't take a holiday then I'll drag you on mine. Spas, quiet retreats…"

Myles sighed loudly. "Well there's not a snowball's chance in hell you're going to get both of us to agree to that. You're outnumbered."

"I'm in charge. Your parents both said so."

"Then Dom and I will be staging a mutiny…" Myles said, firmly.

"Ach - Dom's a mummy's boy – he'll agree with whatever I say…"

"Oh really – let's test that theory, shall we? When I put 'shooting range' up against your 'jacuzzi day'."

"Ha – got you. Shooting range then. Followed by a hot tub spa. You can sit in a sauna or something while Dom does forty thousand laps of a pool. Actually – massage would be really good for your rehab…"

"Not a chance…"

Xandr leant back on the kitchen counter and folded his arms with a smile. His Maud may be gone again for the time being, but between keeping these two from killing eachother and raising the next greatest Blue Diamond the world had ever seen, he had plenty to keep him on his toes. As he watched them bickering back and forth and thought of his grandson - no doubt not quite keeping out of trouble with the Fowl boy at present, he was reminded to be grateful for what he had.

"Muuum!"

An unusual cry in the Fowl household, all three adults looked over to the door.

Dom dutifully burst through it, two more children a little slower behind, pausing at the threshold.

"Have you seen my hat? Me, Artemis and Sophia are going to have a snowball fight."

He had quite recovered from his mutism, his family were pleased to hear, although Artemis did wish it had an 'on / off' switch for when he was reading a book in the manor library and the Butler boy - under advice from his grandfather to 'act interested in what your charge does' - launched into a series of twenty questions about the tome.

"Coat rack," Myles and Theresa said in unison.

"And are you now?" Alexandr added. "Have you asked Mister Fowl?"

"Sophia's parents have given her permission and Father said I was allowed to go out in the grounds if I stay within the walls and take a Butler with me," the Fowl heir assured him. "And Junior..."

"Is a Butler. Very clever, young sir," Xandr drawled, resigning the rest of his day to making sure the offspring of rich people didn't loose fingers to frostbite.

"I'll watch," Myles offered instantly. This meant a temporary release from house arrest, he could feel it.

His father raised an eyebrow at him and Myles suddenly felt as young as the three children who had already gained permission from their parents. Although in reality, Domovoi hadn't even bothered to ask. He knew the answer would be affirmative to almost anything that wasn't overly dangerous or illegal... well...

"Fine," the Butler patriarch sighed shortly. "Theresa - go with them for me, I'm rely on your judgement for when they're to come in."

"Yes sir," Theresa gave him a lazy salute, heading for the cupboard their boots where stacked in.

The children cheered, Dom rushing forward to grab his uncle by the arm.

"Bagsie Uncle on my team!"

"That is categorically unfair - there must be at least one Butler per team. Besides, I pay him to be on my side."

"Your dad pays him to be on your side - and he's off-duty!"

"Stop arguing, boys," Theresa said, in full 'mum' mode. "One of you will have to be with me and Sophia."

She eyed her son sternly and he scuffed his feet.

"Alright..."

Myles stuffed a hat over his ears and wondered if he should play the 'sick' card after all. They were going to get stuffed.

"On second thoughts, I do rather like the idea of children versus adults, if we're all agreed?" Artemis said tactically, realising that perhaps he had scuppered his chances by leaving himself 2:3 against his favour with only an injured bodyguard to back him up.

"Good plan - I'll pick our position," said Sophia, opening the back door. "I was going to call Bates to join in, but if we're staying as age teams, I won't bother."

"He can be reinforcements for our opponents when we merrily trounce them!" Artemis said excitedly, following her out and calling over his shoulder. "Coming, Junior?"

"Sorry Mum," Domovoi grinned and the three of them disappeared into the garden. He was not quite so sure about the 'merrily trounce' part of the phrasing, but he was willing to put up a good fight.

"Good - nobody should be encouraging Bates to do anything outside in this weather on that chest," Xandr said, with a frown.

"And what about me?" asked Myles with a snort.

"You're my son," Xandr shrugged. "Firstly; your blood is part antifreeze by genetics. Secondly; I don't have to fill in any forms if you're dying of pneumonia in a week."

"Charming."

"Besides - you offered," Theresa pointed out.

"I said I'd watch..." Myles protested, shrugging his jacket on.

"Ah come on, krampus!" Theresa said, every bit as mischievously as her son. "It'll be fun!"

"Fun? Oh yes, let's all throw lumps of compressed, frozen water at eachother until someone ends up in tears. We'll I can tell you now, it's not going to be me," he grumbled as she pushed him first out of the door. "Fun indee...!"

A well-aimed snowball thudded squarely into his forehead with a solid whumph! and there was very little debate in his mind as to who had thrown in.

His nephew beamed at him from the snowy gardens and threw himself behind a low-walled plant border.

He shook the snow from his brow and scraped the waiting handful from the ledge by the door.

Right then, you little...

Screams of delight and pleas for mercy flew like the snowy missiles through the cold, December air as flakes began to fall from the darkening sky in whirling flurries.

Xandr shut the door behind them with a comforting thud against the cold and watched from behind the safety of the thick glass of the kitchen window.

It wouldn't be long before they'd burst back in, red faces and pink handed, breath misting before them, coats dampening as the snowflakes melted in the warmth from the Aga cooker. He crossed over to the iron beast, feeding it and stoking the fire in its belly, placing a large, metal kettle on top. They'd want brews when they came in. Hot chocolates, maybe - his speciality - as a treat.

The night was drawing in. The game would be shortlived. The day, like the year, was coming to a close.

Heading into the New Year was always a strange feeling. He would normally say the clocks on the wall made no difference to him, but the fact that they were very lucky indeed this time to be facing the turn of the annum together, brought the gravity of the pages on the calendar a little more into focus.

With any luck, they'd all be here again this time next year too. More of them, if he had his way. Perhaps this would be the year Beckett returned. The year Maud finally settled down. The year that Theresa finally decided to come live full time at the manor. The ultimate goals in his life.

None of those things were any more likely than the other, he knew. But a man could dream. Even a weathered old bodyguard like him.

Dream on, and who knew what could happen? With a bit of luck, plenty of trained, dependable ability and perhaps – if one squinted sideways a little and ignored the scientific screaming of the unprovably undeniable – just a little bit of… magic.

THE END… for now

And if you want to imagine the final scene how it plays out in my head, then pan forward from behind Xandr, out of the window he's looking out of and into the garden, then zoom up and away from the snowball fight, backwards through an upstairs window through the middle of Mr and Mrs Fowl who are watching the others playing in the snow. And play 'Merry Christmas Everyone' by Shaking Stevens in the background. Blackout. Cue rolling credits.

So. The End, as it says. For now. And as much as I'd very much like to write Myles, Theresa and Dom's little getaway break to a Centre Parks or the likes, I know I haven't really got the time. So if that does turn up, it'll probably just be a chapter in Lil Rems. What I should really be doing is focusing on the sequel to Just Reckoning. You may be pleased to hear I have everything plotted out for the second and third part of that series. You'll be less pleased to know I have absolutely no time to write it. But after this one and hearing all the fantastic reviews from you guys - even on chapters I didn't think were very good - I now have the motivation. The best Christmas present any of you could have given me.

So yeah. We all know it's probably going to be the better part of a year before you hear from me again - maybe more, no promises! So I just want to take a moment here to say I hope it's a good'un for all of you.

Until next time...

Your resident Butler family writer,

Wolfy
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