Author's Note: I noticed (after I published, of course) some instances of auto-correct replacing words that I did not catch in my original error search. I plan to go back and fix this, but for the moment I am more focused on actually getting the story done. I apologize for the errors - I type these stories mostly on my phone since I don't have full-time access to a computer.

Thank you to my reviewers: 2whitie and Eldewind Dolly! I really appreciate your interest and feedback.

And now, let's get back to it.

August 4th, 2003

Fowl Manor

Angeline had woken her husband excitedly that morning, and once she had finally managed to get him out of bed she had rushed him around their large bedroom suite, practically tossing him his clothes and gathering his various affects for him. He was attempting to tuck in the sky blue dress shirt Angeline had gotten him for his birthday when she all but shoved him towards the door.

"Darling," he said, somewhat exasperated, simultaneously fixing his half-tucked shirt and twisting his watch band over his wrist. A business jet-setter's talent, handy for tight schedules between flights and inopportune knocking on your office door when your wife had stopped by to give you a very special visit. "What's the occasion?"

He had run through his mental calendar twice now; Angeline's birthday wasn't until next month, his was already past, Arty's wasn't until next month, and it wasn't the couple's anniversary until the end of December. He could not figure out the cause of his wife's excitement. She stopped them at the bottom of the stairs, turning and placing her hands on his shoulders.

"Arty's presentation in Dublin, it's this morning. That music project he's been working on. You don't remember?"

He certainly didn't remember. He couldn't recall even being told.

"Arty's working on music?" he asked.

His wife's smile faltered for a second. "Of course he is, he's been working on this ever since we pulled him from school."

They had taken their son out of St. Bartleby's and placed him in day school- at which his tenure managed to last about two weeks. A few angry phone calls from the administration later and Artemis was swiftly pulled out of school, his exasperated parents agreeing that maybe some sort of homeschooling was the better option for their genius son.

"That place was ridiculous," Artemis Jr. had said, sitting in the back of the Bentley with his mother, talking to his reflection in the window. "The teachers there were even more simplistic than the ones at Bartleby's, and the students might as well have been monkeys stuffed into khaki pants."

His father sat in the front passenger seat trying to look miffed, but couldn't quite pull it off. Day School had been doomed from the start and he'd known it. In fact, he was surprised it had taken two whole weeks for Arty to get himself kicked out. Butler didn't even try to look anything but amused, looking back at his charge just long enough to raise an eyebrow.

Angeline on the other hand, had been clearly upset. "It's not about the lessons or even the teachers, Arty. It's about the socializing! You have no friends," She held up a hand as Artemis turned to respond, stopping him momentarily. "No friends your age! Doesn't that bother you?"

Had her son been any other teenager in the world, he would have rolled his eyes. Instead he just calmly responded that no, he was not bothered, he had much better things to do, and that he would much rather be friends with actual khaki-clad monkeys than the other teenagers he had encountered.

Angeline turned to her own window and sighed, giving up for now. Her boy was stubborn, just like his father. It was a trait she managed to both admire and dislike. Artemis Senior decided to stay out of it. He knew how his son felt, but he didn't want to make his beloved wife feel like she was wrong to worry. And if he was being honest with himself, she wasn't wrong to worry, even if she couldn't understand how frustrating it was to be surrounded by people who didn't understand half of the words that came out of your mouth.

Mentally coming back to his current conversation, he shrugged his shoulders and gave his wife an apologetic look. "I honestly didn't know, Angel. He's often in his room or his study, and I don't want to pry too much into his business."

"It's not prying to keep up with up with your son's interests, Timmy," she sighed. "But never-mind that, we should get breakfast and then head out." She turned back around and strode towards the kitchen. Artemis Senior followed her, almost feeling a bit put out. Surely his son would be more forthcoming with his current projects if he wanted his father to know about them? Artemis had never been one to seek out his parent's praise; he had never turned up at his father's study with a crayon drawing, or rushed through the manor to show his mother that he had managed to tie his shoes by himself. The boy had taught himself to walk, for god's sake, his parents had awoken one morning to find him pulling himself along the walls of his nursery.

Artemis Junior was at the table already, conversing with Butler, who was setting up for breakfast. Both looked up at the couple's entry.

"Good morning Mother, Father." said Artemis.

"Good morning Arty," his mother said warmly. "Did you sleep well?"

"I'm rested enough, Mother."

Artemis Senior nodded to his son as he sat down at the table. "Everything ready for your presentation?"

"Yes Father," he paused for a moment. "Will you be attending?"

"Of course he will," said Angeline before her husband could respond. "We're both coming today." Artemis Senior just nodded, suddenly feeling strangely out of place at the breakfast table. He thanked Butler when his plate was sat in front of him and focused on eating for the rest of the meal, listening but not really participating. Angeline did most of the talking that morning, asking her son typical questions about what his schedule was, what did he want to do after the presentation, would he know anybody there, and so on and so forth. Artemis Junior, in typical fashion, gave bland, polite responses. Finally, when everyone was finished eating, Artemis Senior decided to ask a question himself.

"What sort of music is this anyway, Arty?"

His son looked at him, and Artemis Senior recognized amusement. It was the same sort of look a teacher would give their five year old student when asked what sort of cheese the moon was made out of.

"I'm not presenting music, Father. This is a convention for inventors, not musicians. I'm presenting new sound technology. Speakers, to be exact. The sound quality will be unlike like anything on or off the market."

Artemis Senior was embarrassed, but he did not show it. Masking his emotions was one of his best skills. He did glance at his wife however. You could have been a little more clear, he thought in her direction. As if she could read his mind, she gave him a look that said well, you could have asked for more details.

"I see," he said to his son. "Well, knowing you, your audience will be picking their jaws up off the floor."

"Indeed," said Artemis Junior, getting up from the table. "If you'll excuse me, I need to take care of a few things before we leave."

"I thought we were in a hurry?"

The boy raised an eyebrow in response.

"Very well then, we'll be here when you're ready."

When their son had left the room, Artemis Senior sighed, looking back over at his wife. "He must think I'm an idiot."

"Of course he doesn't," said Angeline said reassuringly. Her husband was not convinced.

Clayton Hotel and Conference Venue, Dublin

Artemis' presentation had, as expected, gone off without a hitch. Artemis Senior once again found himself impressed by his son's talents. Once the panel was over and everyone stood to mingle, he worked his way through the crowd with Angeline right behind him. Artemis was off to the far side of the room, speaking with a small group, answering questions, with Butler right by him, eyes continually scanning the room.

Artemis saw his parents approaching and excused himself from the group, walking over to meet them.

"Oh Arty, that was incredible!" his mother gushed. Artemis Senior nodded in agreement.

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you, son."

Artemis Junior looked almost sheepish for a brief moment, before his expression defaulted back to his usual passive one. "Thank you Mother, Father. I need to speak to someone for a moment, could regroup shortly?"

"Sure, son." said Artemis Senior. "Just call us when you're ready." His son nodded and then began to weave his way through the crowd, Butler right behind him, as always.

"Shall we head to the lobby, darling?" asked Angeline. "It's awfully stuffy in here." Artemis Senior agreed, taking her arm in his as he once again worked through the crowd. When they reached the lobby, they were fortunate enough to find an unoccupied pair of chairs, and sat down to wait for their son.

They ended up waiting for well over an hour. Angeline was growing restless, they had run out of things to talk about and had been people watching since then. Artemis Senior found himself growing anxious. He was trying to decide whether or not to text his son a quick inquiry as to how much longer his meeting was going to last when to his relief he saw Butler's towering figure working towards them, Artemis in tow. The boy was slightly out of breath.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. We were stopped for questions by a few people on our way back." he explained to his parents. Angeline nodded and quickly rose from her seat, at this point simply relieved to move on with the rest of their day. Artemis Senior found himself unsatisfied with the excuse, however. Something seemed off, though he wasn't sure what. His son almost seemed uneasy with their surroundings. As good as he was at concealing his emotions, it was one of the few areas Artemis Senior still had his son beat; he'd worn that mask far too many times. The minute glance towards Butler gave him pause. There was also the fact that Butler had led Artemis into the lobby when he usually positioned himself behind.

"Well, you're here now. Shall we go for lunch?" Angeline asked, while her husband took his time getting up, pushing his thoughts to the back of his mind and concentrating on his balance. If he didn't carefully put his weight on his prosthetic leg, he could easily topple backwards. It had happened twice so far since he had been fitted, and he wasn't eager for a third performance in a crowded lobby of esteemed scientists. It was bad enough when Juliet Butler had laughed at him the last time it happened, though she had been just respectful enough to make sure he wasn't hurt first.

Artemis nodded. "Yes, Mother. Wherever you'd like." Angeline laughed, and Artemis Senior smiled, despite everything else. He loved to hear his Angeline laugh.

The rest of the day had been admittedly pleasant, but Artemis Senior couldn't fully enjoy it. His mind was stuck on his son's hour long absence. He knew very well what all could happen in an hour. He also knew his son hadn't gone 100% legal in his activities. So far what all he had managed to find out had been, in his opinion, harmless. He had made a discreet trip to the Louvre shortly after The Fairy Thief had been 'mysteriously' donated to the public, and he had admired it in a similar fashion to most parents admiring their kids football trophies. When more paintings and artifacts began showing up courtesy of their 'anonymous' donor, he had collected newspaper clippings and articles on the subject, keeping them locked up in the wall safe hidden in his study. Despite knowing his son was responsible, he couldn't bring himself to talk to his son on his current Robin Hood-esque hobby, and he didn't dare bring it up to Angeline after he had assured her that the family would be going completely legitimate.

But this he couldn't let this current suspicion be. Something was twisting in his gut, as The Major would have put it, and he had learned over years to trust that feeling. Artemis Senior suspected his son was involved in something a bit bigger than recovering lost paintings and stolen artifacts.

When they arrived home that evening, Artemis Junior bid his parents goodnight and retreated to his room. Angeline insisted she was unusually tired, and gave her husband a quick kiss before heading to bed early.

Artemis Senior decided to head to his study, which he had reclaimed from son not too long after his return from the Helsinki hospital. He sat at his desk and opened the top right drawer, quickly and efficiently disabled the hidden alarm mechanism. In it a small black book filled with his own neat script; it contained several names and methods of contact, as well as notes on favors owed to and from him. He flipped towards the back and located the cell number of a Mr. Victor Boucher, an Interpol officer that he had been in contact with since their first encounter in Barcelona. Victor had been there to gather evidence against a group of smugglers. Artemis Senior had been there to 'convince' them to take their services elsewhere.

It had proven to be a good opportunity for both of them.

He pulled out his own cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open, dialing the number and leaning back in his chair. It was later in the evening over in France, but he felt it was best to get this call over with as soon as possible. It rang several times before finally connecting. A deep, tired voice answered.

"Irlande on the phone. It has been a while. You do realize it is past my bedtime, oui?"

"Excusez-moi, Victor. I have just returned home. I'm calling in a favor."

Victor's laugh sounded like a donkey coughing. "Do not excusez-moi, Irlandaise. The sound is terrible in your accent. I will of course do you a favor," he paused, carefully considering his next question. "You are in retirement, oui?"

"In that sense, yes, I am. But I still need an insider's insight." Artemis Senior waited patiently. Phone calls likes this one had to carried out carefully. You never knew who was listening.

"What do you need to know?"

"The fledgling has been straying a bit from the nest, recently. Can you let me know if it's been up to anything out of ordinary?"

Interpol had been keeping tabs the Fowls since it was founded in the 1920's, and had dug up information on them since well before that from various other sources. There was never enough evidence to charge anyone with anything, but there was no shortage of suspicious activity in the family to be monitored. Until recently, that is. Now there was only one Fowl who was causing more data to be added to Interpol's network servers, although his father did not kid himself with thinking he would ever be in the clear with the organization. When you had a reputation like his, it tended to last.

"I will check on the baby bird. You will let me get to sleep. I will call you soon."

"Thank you." The call was immediately disconnected. Artemis Senior groaned and leaned back in his chair. The gnawing in his stomach had yet to cease. He knew he was getting himself into something.

He just hoped that it was something he could get his son out of.

Author's Note:

Alrighty. We're about to go back a few decades in the next chapter, so get ready for that! And as I said last time, I appreciate any feedback I can get. But even if you just read without reviewing, I appreciate your interest too.