Butler glanced in the mirror of the car, checking on Artemis and the twins. All three of them had been oddly silent when Butler picked them up at the exit of the mall, and neither of them had spoken a word in the car. Briefly, he wondered if a stranger had stolen something of theirs, and that they were just worried about retrieving it, but it would be unlike both Beckett and Myles to not tell someone. He had told Madam Fowl that it wasn't such a good idea to let them wander around a place like that alone, without his protection, but she waved off his worries, insisting that Artemis should learn to manage himself and that millions of teenagers went to the mall daily, and nothing happened to them. So perhaps the brothers were just musing over some spectacle that they witnessed.

Either way, both of the twins were fine and gazing out the window from the vantage point of their booster seats, and Artemis... Butler frowned slightly, and adjusted the mirror, as though to see if the image would change. But no, Artemis was still hunched over, scribbling furiously on a sheet of paper. The box that contained his purchase served as a miniature desk, and there was a folded piece of pale magenta card-stock on the edge of it, about to fall onto Artemis' knee. For a moment, Butler thought that he could see some lace beneath the paper, but a car behind him honked: the light had turned green. Cursing under his breath, he accelerated the car, focusing on finding the exit that led to the Manor. He had to swerve almost violently to the other lane as a car (full of teenagers, he noticed) swooped past him. The twins laughed, not realizing how close they came to being creamed, but Artemis did nothing but scramble to pick up his pen, which had flown out of his grasp. A moment later, Butler had turned into the exit (after almost crashing into a stopped truck and running over a family of ducks) and began to relax a bit.

"Butler, can you think of a word that rhymes with fulvous?"

Butler blinked. He risked a glance at the mirror again; Artemis was looking earnestly at him, tapping his pen on the box. He seemed at the edge of a breakthrough. Artemis rarely had breakthroughs of this level in the car...and he never asked Butler questions like this. How odd.

"I...uh..."

"Oh, wait, never mind. I found one...oh, this is turning out wonderfully..."

"..."

Now on an abandoned country road, Butler felt that it was safe to look in the mirror again. Artemis was writing feverishly again. Myles caught Butler's eye and shrugged, just as confused. Of course, Myles had a better idea as to what was happening with Artemis. He knew that somehow, "Orion"'s appearance correlated with the pills that Artemis had neglected to take for the past week, but he didn't know why Artemis was taking the pills in the first place, or why giving him an electric shock stimulated this reaction. Apparently, Orion was still there; Artemis never sat in the car writing. He had a netbook beneath the seats that he would use if he ever felt the desire to write.

Leaning over as far as his booster seat would allow him, Myles peered at the paper that Orion/Artemis was writing. It was full of swirling, graceful cursive, which he had an especially difficult time reading. The four-year-old could catch a few words (the, and, lovely, oh) but the rest was indecipherable. Myles wished he knew a few curse words in order to express his frustration more clearly. After a moment, he realized that someone else but him needed to know about "Orion". Butler was the first choice, as he was in the car with them. But Myles didn't really want to tell him outright–what if Butler didn't believe him? All Myles needed was some evidence to support his hypothesis...

Orion felt someone watching him. Slowly, as to not attract anymore attention, he neatly folded his draft in half, setting it on top of the magenta card-stock. For a moment, he fiddled with the pen-cap, sliding it on and off the ebony pen. From the weight of the pen, he could tell that it had been pretty expensive. He had found it in the pocket of Artemis' jacket (which had been left in the car), and he found it hard to believe that Artemis would ever need something this well-made. Why throw money around when a ball-point pen worked just as well and was ten times cheaper?

He jumped as something tapped his shoulder; he whirled around in his seat and saw Myles staring at him, concern in his azure eyes. Orion grinned nervously.

"Are you 'kay, Artemis?" Myles whispered.

"Perfectly fine." Orion replied, and turned back, staring out the window. He was a little miffed that Myles had tried to trick him into responding with "Oh, but I'm not Artemis, I'm Orion!". Didn't he prefer Orion to grouchy old Artemis? And surely he didn't think that he could be so easily tricked, and–

"Myles!" hissed Orion, yanking both the bag and the box out of the child's chubby hands. He glared at the four-year-old accusingly, clutching his gifts to his chest. "How dare you, you, you knave! These are not for you."

"Artemis, I'm allowed to see them!" shouted Myles, glancing towards Butler. "Why are you acting so weird?"

Butler jumped in his seat as Myles shouted, then pulled over to the side of the road in order to whirl around and settle the dispute. But Artemis was turned the other way, staring out the window, as though trying to melt the glass. Myles, on the other hand, looked as though he were about to cry; his face was a little flushed and he kept sniffing.

"Artemis," said Butler, confused. Artemis rarely ever argued with his brothers, and when they did, he usually gave in and let them win. "What just happened?"

"Nothing." he replied tersely, still gazing vehemently out the window. He was still holding his packages; a trail of pale blue lace peeked out from where it was sandwiched between the box and card-stock.

"Everything...!" wailed Myles, waking Beckett from his miniature nap. Butler gave Artemis a moment to explain. A moment passed in silence that was unbroken only by Myles' sniffs.

"Artemis, Myles, we're going to have to talk when we get back home." Butler said finally, blinking. "You two are always so well-behaved..." he mused to himself, turning back and restarting the car.

The rest of the five-minute trip to the Manor was uneventful and silent. Myles had to stop himself from laughing; his plan had worked almost perfectly. If Butler had somehow managed to make Orion slip and reveal himself, then it would have been exactly as he planned. Now all he had to do was to– somehow– make Orion do something really un-Artemis like, and then Butler would realize what had happened, and somehow fix things.

But as soon as Butler parked the car, Orion scooped up his purchases, practically leapt over Beckett (who had fallen asleep again), opened the car door, and trotted as quickly as he could to the Manor doors. Ignoring Butler's bemused expression, he tapped in the password for the lock, fumbling with his bags. The ornate doors swung open, and he slipped inside.

Time was the enemy now. As he raced through the halls, he could feel Artemis beginning to regain consciousness at the back of his mind.

No...Orion thought, stumbling over an overturned vase. No, I just need more time! Alas...he can't find out about this! All my freedom will be gone...

A second ticked past: Artemis opened his eyes, and groaned, once again facing the mind-screen. He could see...no, wait, he couldn't see. This was odd. He was always able to look through Orion's eyes, unless he happened to be asleep. Trying to ignore the rows of fours that automatically began to slink out in front of him, he stood up, and rapped the imaginary screen with his knuckles. Almost immediately, the ever-familiar chorus began; "Four, four, four four, four, four..."

It seemed to be to the tune of Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head, but nevertheless, he was forced to crouch on the floor, fighting the darkness that began to surround him...

Opening his eyes, Orion grinned. At least one of his plans worked without a flaw. He ran up another flight of stairs, wheeled around an almost forgotten corridor, and creaked open a door. He stepped into the room, and sighed. This was Orion's room, or rather, the abandoned room that he had secretly taken over. It had a desk (which was strewn with papers) and a small cot. It didn't have a window, and the floor was creaky and unpolished, but it was Orion's refuge for whenever he managed to escape Artemis' subconsciousness. Artemis didn't know about it, as every time Orion managed to escape, Artemis was forced to pass out for a time in order to recuperate from the shock.

Not wasting any time, Orion sat down, and began to write...

There will be one more chapter, which finally gets to the scene that originally gave me the idea in the first place. ^_^