I feel plot. It is a good feeling. Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: Ich bin nicht Eoin Colfer.

The Sue Slayers: The Twelve Fics Of Christmas

Chapter Two: Do We Have Any Turpentine?

In which Clare turns blue and is a chubby Irish toddler, Artemis offers to help and Eminem makes a brief cameo.

Excerpt from ARTEMIS FOWL: SUITS, SEX AND SONG by Kasey Allard, page 19

"Artemis Fowl was, and is a special case. In the pre-reveal days, his fandom was almost self-policed, and so contained minimal danger to Slayers, Fangirologists and Canonists. All this changed when Private Hannah Lynch was assigned to guard the title character…"

December 1st

"I didn't want to come."

"I can tell. Your body language is very closed off, hostile-"

"I'll throw something at you. That hostile enough for you?"

"How was your journey?"
"Uneventful. Quick. I literally left Australia twenty minutes ago."

"Excellent. I would really like to examine the equipment your organization uses to-"

While Artemis waffled on about the uses and applications of our MURPC systems, I unpacked.

"And an end to world hunger." he concluded, as I stuck my bags under the bed. "I trust you find the room comfortable?"

"It has a window, a carpet and closet space. Three things more than my room at base."

Artemis nodded. "Major Martin-"

"Miss Martin, or Clare. None of that military jargon." I paused. "Preferably Clare."

"Very well. Dinner will be in half an hour – my parents would like to meet you properly."

I nodded, and waved him off. Or I tried to, anyway. Artemis stood in the doorway like…something that stands in doorways and looks imposing. I didn't want to say police officer, especially in comparison with Artemis Henry Winston Fowl the Second.

"Why didn't you send Private Lynch?"

I smiled at him. "Oh, Artemis. Every time you see me, you ask that. And what do I say?"

"'None of your business, you skinny Irish nerd.'"

"Correct, as per usual."

Finally, he left, and I pulled a face. Angeline Fowl had given me an outline of my required work. It included vacuuming, tea-making, sweeping, dusting and occasional picture straightening. I would also be assisting Angeline with decorating for the Fowl's own Christmas party.

I stuck the list to my mirror, then glared at my reflection. The bomb had barely touched me, but I still had a scar along one cheekbone, stretching into my ear. Yes, the chewed one. That side of my face was the unluckiest side-of-face in the world. I fluffed up my spike and tried to smile.

Right.

Dinner.

Lecker.

Before I left the room, I grabbed a few chocolates out of my bag. Ok. To the twins room.

"So, Miss Martin, what brings you to Ireland?" asked Mr Fowl.

"I'm backpacking, and I have family here, so I figured I'd stop traveling for the holidays."

"Oh. Would we know them?"

I shook my head. "They're not a big family, and not very…wealthy, either."
Awkward.

Well, so I thought. The Fowl family (apart from Artemis and Butler) chuckled, happy with their money and Irishness.

"Do you know when you'll get back to Australia?" asked Artemis.
"Well, I'm moving on about halfway through January." I said. "Going to R-" Don't say Russia, don't say Russia-"Romania, then to Albania."

I was deliberately overdoing my Australian accent as I talked, as Canonists theorized Angeline thought it was endearing. I sounded like Paul Hogan if he was drunk.

Which is pretty much the same as Paul Hogan sober, now that I think about it.

"Will you go to university back in Australia?" asked Artemis. "I know Melbourne has some splendid schools."

"Yep," I said. "We have lots of people doing their masters there from overseas. I think I will, I'll probably do teaching. I love children."

"Well, Beckett certainly has warmed to you." said Angeline.

It was true. The (rather chubby) toddler had shoved his high chair down next to my seat. Amazing what a Freddo will do.

"They are the same place, intellectually." Artemis muttered. Angeline glared at him.

I just smiled, angelically. I'm an excellent actress when I need to be.

"And you, Artemis? Will you go to university?"

"Yes. I have, actually."

"Oh, did you do a summer course?"
Angeline and Artemis Senior hid smiles.

Artemis pursed his lips. "You could say that."

"Cool. So, are there any special things I need to know about Beckett and Myles before tomorrow?"

"Nothing that I can think of. Artemis is having a friend stay for a few weeks. She arrives on the third."

"What's her name?"

"Holly."

I choked on my broccoli. "Nice name," I said, once I could inhale properly.

Artemis hid a smile. "We've known each other for years."

"I bet you have."

His parents simply smiled and ate. I love oblivious people. I wish I was one of them.

The next day passed without incident. It was nice to walk around Fowl manor and the grounds without having to worry about Mary Sues. No, Christmas was a time for Holly/Artemis shippers, bless their unfulfilled hearts.

Artemis gave me a very half-assed tour of the manor, knowing I probably knew it as well as he. He did point out several of the cleaning cupboards, which I definitely knew better than he did.

Patrol can get boring, and when I was paired with Matt-

"This my study, you will not enter unless I give you express permission."

"Or if your mum sends me."

"Well…yes."

"Or your dad."

"Yes."

"Or if it's Monday afternoon and I have to clean it."

"Correct. Knock first."

"Do you think Colfer believes in Freudian psychology as both you and Holly have serious mummy issues?"

"Holly has mother issues?"

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Do you have issues with being raised in an adult free, violence filled, isolated community?"

"You tell me."

Artemis nodded.

"Well, a blind deaf dwarf could tell me that."

Angeline passed us both, gave us a nod and a shining smile. I grinned back.

"I'll take you to the library now. You'll be cleaning it after lunch. Mother –"

"Mum."

"Mother requested you vacuum and dust, before, and I quote, 'decking the shelves with boughs of holly.'"

"Fa la la la-"

"Don't. Just…don't."

I didn't, and once we had ascended to the third floor, I tugged a vacuum out of the cleaners cupboard and handed it to Artemis. "Hold that." I said, and found a duster too. "So, where's the room with the books?"

He sighed, and began to walk down the hallway. I studied the duster for a moment – neon green feathers and fluro pink handle, fabulous – and ran after the genius.

"Your mum wants me to make up Holly's room too. Where are you sticking her?"

"On the second floor, the fifth guestroom."

"The green one?"

"Yes, the one with the-"

"Isn't that the fourth one?"

"N-no, it's definitely the fifth."

"I'll do it next." I picked up the duster and tossed it into the library. It flipped through the air and narrowly missed a Fangirl, who ducked between two shelves. Oh. That would be an issue.

"Maybe you should take care of…that now." Artemis said, as Angeline passed us again.

"It's my job." I said, and pulled the metal pole out of the vacuum cleaner. "Keep the twins away, and I'll see you if I can't find any rope." My belt would do anyway.

Before he could say anything, I slipped into the library and shut the door, holding the pole like a baseball bat.

"Here, Fangirl-Fangirl-Fangirl…"

December 3

"Just gonna stand there and watch me burn," I sang, dusting. "That's alright because-"

"You're very flat. Except of course, your C, which is almost on pitch."

I turned around and pitched the duster at Artemis. He ducked as he headed downstairs and I switched to humming. People may think I don't have feelings, but seriously. He could be mean.

Then again, he was probably just nervous because Holly was arriving in an hour. Probably.

Wait, what am I saying? Definitely.

"Ah, Miss Martin!" said Angeline, running upstairs. "Here's your duster. Can you be downstairs by ten to help with Holly's bags?"

"Absolutely, Mrs. Fowl. Anything else?"
"Please, Angeline. Yes. Myles needs a bath, and it's Helen's morning off. Could you-"

"Uh, sure. Now?"

"Yes, now. He's in his laboratory."

I stuck my duster in my room, then whirled. Artemis' lab was next to his study on the second floor, but Myles' lab was a new addition…I clicked my fingers.

"Angeline's third closet."

I ran downstairs to the refurbished closet (about the size of your average classroom) and found Myles sulking on the floor, stuck to the polished tiles with an unholy mix of glue and blue paint. Beckett was nowhere to be found – he'd left nothing but a bucket of the stuff on the bench.

"Beckett James Fowl?" I called. Angeline had left her children like this? God, either she was really neglectful or OOCness was setting in. I really hoped it was the latter.

There was a giggle, but I couldn't pinpoint its location.

"Beckett simple-toon." said Myles. "Clare help me?"

He tried to lift his arms up but they were stuck to his shirt.

"Ok, small child." I tried to lift him up too, but he really was glued down.

"Hmm. What unsticks glue?" I wondered.

Myles named a chemical that sounded dangerous, so I ignored him. I ended up kneeling next to him, pouring warm water on the floor and peeling him off, centimeter by centimeter. In the process I was ruining my new black pants. My new, flattering black pants. My new, wonderful, just the right size black pants."

"Faster, I wanna meet Holly."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, I wanna new pair of pants."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Beckett toddle-run (basically a stoggur done by a two year old) out into the corridor.

"BECKETT!" shrieked Myles, and began to sob.

I stood up and poured more water into a (hopefully clean) beaker. Kneeling back down, I smiled at the tearful kid. "So, how shall we get revenge on Beckett?"

Myles stopped sniveling and looked up at me. "Now you are speaking my lang-wich."

He was adorable when he was being evil. I suggested a few choice acts while peeling him off the floor. After a few more beakers he came free and I picked him up, ignoring the blue smears he left all over my top.

Artemis just happened to be standing outside. "What happened to you two?"

"Beckett happened." I said. "It's half to ten, right? I have to give this one a bath, but I should be downstairs in time to help Holly with her bags."

"I would rather you didn't meet Holly."

I shifted Myles to the other hip. "I would rather do my job, which is to protect you and Holly. And to bathe this fine specimen of toddler-ness."

"Toddlerness is not - would you like my help?"

"Oh no. Arty. You'll get dirty hands."

"Don't call me-"

"And I need you to clean up that paint. What does clean up paint? I can do blood, vomit, spit, urine, bile, plasma, vitreous humor, phlegm and brain fluid but paint is kind of weird for me."

"Methylated spirits or mineral turpentine for oil based paints. If it can be cleaned with water, it's acrylic paint."

"Good. If you see Beckett, ask him what he put on his brother. Thanks."

"Are you sure you don't need help?"

"Why are you offering?"

"Ah-"

"Go pace, or pick lint, or whatever you do when you're worried. I am going to go strip your brother and stick him in a bucket."

"A noble pastime."

"Better than stabbing fictional constructs. Oh, while you're here – no one should go in the Z section of the library till I say so."

"Shall I take you to the twins bathroom?"

I didn't actually know where that was. "Yeah, could you?"

We were halfway through running a bath for Myles (I found Beckett pretending to be a vase in the hallway) when the doorbell rang.

Artemis and I both froze. He dropped the talcum powder.

"Go! Run! Schnell!" I said, shooing him out.

And he did run, and it wasn't pretty. He looked like a ragdoll in a blender.

"I wonder how he dances." I said to Myles. "Right. In the tub. No, hang on. I'm getting Beckett. He can have a bath too, because I know he hates them."

I left the smarter child writing equations in shaving cream and saw Beckett run downstairs.

"Right."

In the end, it was quite lucky Beckett ran downstairs because as we reached the balcony that overlooked the entrance and I caught the little bugger (rugby moves were involved. Nothing more will be said on the matter.) I managed to look over the edge, Beckett squirming under my arm and see Artemis and Holly deep in conversation, their heads far too close to each other to be platonic.

Also, they were holding hands. As I watched, Artemis brushed a few flakes of snow off Holly's head. She giggled and they hugged.

Hmmm. I put Beckett down.

"You got Myles. You got me by association. Do you think you could get Artemis for me?"

Beckett, on the verge of tears (like brother, like…brother, I guess), looked up at me and grinned.

"Oh, you're a chubby Irish toddler version of me." I said.

I delivered his bucket of paint and went up to deal with Myles. He claimed to have solved Landau's problems, so I stuck him in the water and gave him a duck while he talked. This Landau guy had issues.

Finally, I heard someone yell, "BECKETT!" at a volume that would make Kirk jealous.

"That's my cue." I said to Myles. "Out of the bath. If you drown, I don't get paid."

I raced downstairs to find Beckett squirming in Butlers grip, Holly and Artemis doused in blue paint. Artemis was simultaneously apologizing to Holly and lecturing Beckett on social etiquette. Fat lot of good that would do. He trailed off as I approached.

"…So, that's where he got to. Hi." I said, sticking my hand out for Holly to shake. "I'm Clare Martin. I'm the new maid."

"Ma-Miss Martin, take Beckett upstairs and bathe him, please?" Artemis wiped a bit of paint off his tie. Armani. Damn.

"I got four! I got four!" sang Beckett as I took him from Butler, who was trying not to grin.

"And stop him singing that."

I hustled the child upstairs and stuck him and Myles in, clothes and all.

"You got four, you got four." I sang to Beckett.

Then.

"Don't ever do that again."

He giggled. Myles looked at his duck for a moment, then laughed too.

"I like you guys so much more than your brother."

"You're at the same intellectual level," Artemis grumbled, stomping past.

I grinned.

Moment ruined, mission accomplished.

I needed to text Amelia.

Too long? Not long enough? Please stop writing? Please have my children?

Feedback is appreciated. I haven't really been around small children a lot (something about dangerous for both sides) but Beckett and Myles aren't exactly normal.

I don't know. Please, I love reviews :D

-Nicola.