This update will probably make me late for work, but oh well. I'm stoked on how positive a response this has gotten already, hurrah! I was expecting to have to deal with lots of indignant reviewers, but you guys are awesome. I know the books he's given him aren't all the ones EC mentions but she's got three years, right? She doesn't have to give them to him all at once.

Thanks to Ilex-ferox, the loveliest of betas.

The First Year

"...Hello?" No one knew this number. Well, one person did, but he, well...

"Butler?"

"Minerva?"

"Yes. Is this ... is it a bad time?"

"What? No! No. Just ... I'm surprised to hear your voice, that's all. The only person who used this number ..." He swallowed the last of that sentence.

"Oh." Her voice was very small. "I didn't know, I'm sorry, Butler. I should have called the house."

"No, no, it's nice, getting a phone call. I suppose there's no point in asking how you got the number."

She chuckled weakly. "Well, hacking isn't something I excel at, but I can find a simple phone number."

Butler knew his number was not at all simple to find, but he let it drop. "What can I do for you, Minerva?"

"I ..." she paused, and he thought he could make out the sound of her worrying her lip. "I was wondering if you were free this afternoon?"

"Free this afternoon? Oh yes, quite free. Free as a bird, you could say." Butler felt his grip on the conversation slipping and reined himself in.

She heard it in his voice, however, and she paused. "Well ... would you like to have lunch in town? We're on a family holiday; I told my father I'd always wanted to see Ireland."

"Had you?"

"Not at all, but I did want to see you."

"Oh. Well. Thank you. Alright then. Okay. Lunch. Sure. When? Where?"

"Restaurant Patrick Guilbaud? Do you know it? In two hours? Is that alright?"

"Yes, I know it and yes, that's alright. That's perfect. We used to- I'll see you there."

He heard her sigh on the other end. "Alright, Butler. I'll see you soon."

"Yes." They both stayed on the line for a few more seconds before hanging up.

"You came here alone?"

She smiled at his horrified expression. "Of course. I could hardly bring my father and Beau."

"Well, no, but your father just let you come on your own? Without anyone?"

"Butler, you're the only person right now who has any reason to wish me harm and, should you ever decide to act upon that, there is no one I could bring with me who would be able to keep me safe."

Despite himself, Butler was a little flattered, but he would not be distracted. "I'm not talking about targeted attacks, what about opportunists? Muggers? Ransomers? Human slave traffickers?"

"In this neighbourhood?"

"Anything is possible, Minerva."

"I appreciate your concern, Butler, but I'm quite alright, and now you're here and I've probably never been more safe."

He didn't look convinced. She reached across the table and laid a small hand on his fingers. "How are you, Butler?"

His lips twitched. "Well, as I'm sure you can guess from my reaction just there, I've been better."

"Yes, you did seem a little ... over the top."

"Oh, I'm over the top, alright. The family thinks I've gone mad."

"What? Why?"

"I told them. The truth, I mean. About – about Artemis. Minerva, I had to. What else could I do?"

"Oh, Butler." Her face grew pinched.

"What else could I do?" he whispered. "They don't believe me. Can you blame them? But I just wish –if someone would just – if anyone would just believe ..." he trailed off.

"Would you like ... would you like to tell me about it? About Artemis? About everything? I'd believe you."

He looked at her for a moment. She wondered what he saw in her face. Did he see an ulterior motive where, for once, there was only sympathy? Was he so used to treachery he'd see it even in the truth? Was she so used to lying that she had started to believe her own lies? Was her second chance, this tenuous reaching out, going to fail before it even really began? No, she thought. No. We are stronger than that. We are better than that.

"I ..." he began. "Yes, actually. Yes, I would. God, Minerva, I've never been away from him this long, never, not once since he was born." He took a gulp of water. "What am I supposed to do without him? What will I do without him?"

"But he's coming back, Butler. He told you he would. We just have to find something to distract you in the interim. Take your mind off things. Think of it as a vacation."

"A vacation?" He gave a bark of laughter. "I don't take vacations."

"I'm trying to help, Butler." Her voice quavered as she realised just how far in over her head she was. Pain was not her speciality, especially not other people's. And this one went so, so deep. "I am not going to let you just - just wallow."

Butler looked at her askance. "'Wallow'?"

"I couldn't think of a more appropriate word," she replied, defensive.

Butler chuckled, turning his hand over to squeeze hers. "Wallow works just fine, Minerva."

"Thank you." She sniffed haughtily, but ruined the effect with a nervous giggle.

It was Minerva who got him the house. She researched the location of Hybras and found him a rental cottage in Duncade.

"After all," she said, "you'll want to be the first to know when he comes back."

He was glad that she, at least, had never questioned his faith in Artemis' return. Whether or not she believed it herself he didn't know, nor did he care to. She believed that he believed, and that was what mattered at the moment. He wondered what it said about him that the only person he knew who didn't currently think him a lunatic had only just turned thirteen. He tried not to think about that too deeply.

It wasn't as though he blamed the Fowls for not believing his story. They had every right not to. It sounded so far-fetched that he hadn't even been able to bring himself to tell Juliet. Though neither, he surmised from the lack of hysterical telephone calls from Mexico, had the Fowls. The fewer people who knew, the better. After all, fairies and demons? From a blue diamond bodyguard? No wonder they thought he'd gone mad with guilt. Sometimes he wondered if he really had. Gone mad, that was.

Minerva didn't think so, however. "Butler, mon cher ami, of course they are going to think you mad. They have never seen proof. Everyone needs proof, with the possible exception of religious fanatics - but they tend to make their own. The Fowls are missing important pieces of data and therefore they cannot see the whole picture. The whole picture, nonetheless, exists. Evolution went on for millions of years, totally indifferent to whether or not we believed in it. Don't worry, they will understand eventually."

He set the teapot down on the rough wooden table between them. "I have no proof that he will come back, Minerva. Where does that put me? Am I not seeing the bigger picture either? Maybe I am blinded by grief like they say, and just can't accept that he is gone." He said it with as much emotion as though he were putting forward a scientific hypothesis, a philosophical argument. At times like this he sounded a bit like Artemis. It worried Minerva.

She didn't let it show. "Psh, Butler, you are talking nonsense. You have proof. Artemis Fowl was your charge. You saw him escape from that time stop, you saw him rescue his father and overthrow that Koboi character. And yet you doubt that he will come back to you? He said he would. There's your proof."

He chuckled and the new wrinkles on his face rearranged themselves from frown lines to smile lines. "Thank you, Minerva."

"I brought you something, Butler."

"Oh? That was nice of you."

"Nice, always this 'nice'. What is it with you anglophones and this 'nice'. It is an awful word. It means nothing."

"That was kind of you, Minerva."

"Thank you, Butler," she accepted his gratitude like a queen accepting the admiration of her vassals. It was only her due, after all.

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a heavy, square package. "Open it!" she commanded, queenly one minute, over-eager child the next.

Slowly, Butler slit open the brown paper wrapping.

She pursed her lips, fingers drumming on the tabletop.

"Patience is a virtue, Minerva. I'm trying to savour my gift."

"You're trying to annoy me."

"Would I do that? It's just a lucky side-effect."

Inside the protective paper were books. Four of them. Lovely editions. He picked each one up, read the title and laid it on the table. "Alice in Wonderland, Moby Dick, Peter Pan and ..." he paused, holding the last book in his hand and frowning, "Pride and Prejudice? I'm not sure Artemis will approve of this."

"Well, he will just have to learn to accept it. It's for when you're feeling down. Jane Austen always ends happily." Minerva shrugged as though Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy would banish any and all of a forty-something, battle-hardened bodyguard's demons.

"Right."

She sighed. "Butler, you live alone in this tiny little village with no company but your own thoughts. I come as often as I can, but you need to do more with your time than practise martial arts routines and think about Artemis."

"I cook, too."

"Oh, well, in that case," she levelled a look at him. "Just read them, Butler. There'll be a quiz next time, so that I know you did. And don't worry, the answers won't be on Sparknotes."

"You're a slave driver, Minerva," he said. But he smiled at her.

"It's harder than it looks to exonerate oneself," she told him.

He paused. "Is that what this is about? Minerva, you don't have to make this up to me. You don't need to feel guilty."

"Did I say I was feeling guilty?" She eyed his sceptical expression and took a deep breath. "Butler, we both know that I am the reason Artemis is gone. And I know that I need to be able to accept the fact that I have done a terrible thing to you. I don't feel guilty, per se, but I do feel responsible. And I feel it is time that I start living up to my responsibilities."

Pausing to collect herself, she sipped delicately at her tea. "Besides," she continued, setting down the mug, "I ... I like you, Butler. You're, well, I think that you may be my friend. In fact, if I am honest, I think you may be my only friend. And I would like to be a good friend to you. Could we ... could we be friends?"

Two tiny pieces of Butler's broken heart melted then, fusing themselves back together. "Of course. Minerva, of course we're friends. And you are a good friend." He picked up Peter Pan with a smile, "One of the best."

She blushed, and gulped her tea.

Butler eyed the board with evident misgivings. "I already know how to play, Minerva, you don't need to teach me."

"Of course you do, everyone does," Minerva replied, unconcerned.

"So then why ...?"

"Well, what's the point in knowing how to play if one never plays? What colour would you like to be?"

"Couldn't we just play chess or something? I thought you child geniuses liked chess."

"First of all, it's 'genii' and, second of all, I didn't realise there were rules for what one could and could not like should one happen to be born a genius. I must not have been sent my copy of the owner's manual. What a shocking oversight, storks simply aren't the birds they once were. Bringing babies to people who don't want them, mixing babies up in mid-flight, forgetting owner's manuals. Shocking, truly. But, more importantly, what colour would you like?"

"Artemis always played chess with me," Butler said, though he was unsure how that related to the situation. It just seemed like it needed to be said. It didn't feel right to talk for so long without bringing up his name. As though, if it was said often enough, it would simply conjure him up.

"I thought he might have done," Minerva agreed. "Which is why I'm asking you to play Chinese Checkers instead. I'm not Artemis, Butler."

The man paused, mouth open to say something else entirely. For perhaps the first time since they'd met Butler really looked at her. "No," he said after a moment, "no, I know you're not."

"Good," she said. "What colour?"

"I – ah ... blue."

"Alright, I'll be yellow, then."

Silently, he nodded, watching her bend her head over the board, setting the marbles in their divots. He wondered wether she was right: had he been confusing the two? Trying to replace one brilliant, lonely, child with another?

Then she looked up, caught him watching her, and smiled at him, her cheeks pink from the fire. No, he thought, I could never have confused the two of them. Minerva wanted to be understood. Minerva wanted to be loved. Artemis did too, but would never have admitted it. You had to know what to look for to know it. And, knowing it, you felt like a thief. But Minerva, she offered it up freely.