A/N: I have made it my objective to have this finished by the time The Atlantis Complex comes out (July 20). This shouldn't be a problem because I already have it all written, it just needs to be typed.
Disclaimer: I own it! I own it all! MWAHAHA~… Don't look at me like that. Okay, fine. I own nothing. *huff*
On Shore in Ireland
Once her initial frenzy had subsided, Holly, clad only in a way-too-small onepiece, found herself lying in the seawater, propped up on her elbows. As she tried to come to terms with her new size, a fish and an angry-looking crab swam up to her.
"Look at what that pixie did to us!" the crab – Foaly – cried. "I told you she was no good. Who's the paranoid one now?" Holly gave him a confused look as she stood shakily, brushing long, wet auburn hair out of her face. Foaly turned to click his crab claws at the fish bobbing pleasantly beside him. "And N°1 is sparking magic in the ocean! What am I supposed to do with him?" Holly's only response was to trip over her now-long legs and fall back into the water with a splash.
"Can't she hear you?" N°1 asked the centaur-crab, his words burbling in the water.
"Of course she can," Foaly replied. "She's mute, not deaf." Then he realized something. "She's human now. Entirely human. That means she has no magic . . . and no gift of tongues." He glanced at the girl in question. "She can't understand Gnommish anymore."
"What can she understand?" N°1 asked nervously.
"I don't know," Foaly admitted, "but I know how to find out." He began calling out to her in different prominent languages – French, Russian, Japanese, Spanish (Spain and Latin America), and so forth. When he finally spoke in English, she turned to find the source, not expecting to see a crab waving a pincer at her. "It's Foaly," he called up to her. Noticing the fish and the sparks around it, she silently asked, N°1? The crab nodded.
"English, then," Foaly said in Gnommish to N°1, who nodded (as well as a fish can). Switching back to English, he addressed, "We need to get you some new clothes. Do you see a town nearby?" She stood obediently and peered into the distance, but to no avail. Searching for another option, her friend's eyes landed on a sailboat crashed nearby. "How," he asked, "do you feel about improvising?"
Twenty minutes later, Foaly scuttled around Holly's feet, admiring his handiwork. Holly herself was not particularly pleased with her new outfit, but anything was better than the elf-size onepiece she had come up in. "I like it," endorsed N°1. Holly gave him a look that clearly said, Says the imp who likes Lady Heatherington Smythe's Hedgerow.
As it was, Foaly had torn down a sail from the abandoned boat and used a rope to tie it around Holly like a dress. "This is fashionable for Mud Girls," he insisted. She just tugged at the fabric and hoped for salvation.
A quarter-mile off, a Bentley pulled up onto the otherwise empty beach. A very familiar Bentley. Two small children jumped eagerly out of the car, followed by mother, father, and older brother. Foaly and N°1 ducked for cover in the water, and Holly, suddenly nervous to go it alone, dropped to her knees to convince them to stay.
However, she didn't stay in that position for long, because a few moments later one of those small children came barreling into her, knocking her onto her rear. She recognized as the twin from the ship – Beckett. And despite the differences in her appearance, she could tell that he recognized her as well. He planted a kiss on her cheek, this apparently being his standard greeting.
"Beckett!" Holly and Beckett both turned to see a certain tall teenager coming towards them. Artemis, of course. On instinct she tried to call his name, but no sound came out. She frowned as she realized for the first time exactly how frustrating this would be. When she blinked back to the present, she realized that Beckett had left her side to meet Artemis, crying out eagerly about a "nice girl" he had found again. Out of curiosity, it seemed, the elder Fowl allowed himself to be led by the younger one to meet this person, who was of course Holly.
"I'm sorry if my brother has bothered you, ma'am," Artemis said formally. He didn't appear to notice the way she raked her hair back to allow him a better view of her face, but then he said, "You . . . look familiar to me."
"She was at your birthday party!" butted in Beckett.
Artemis shook his head. "No, I wrote the guest list myself. I know who was there; she was not."
"But I saw her there!" Beckett insisted.
"No, you didn't," sighed Artemis. Then turning back to Holly: "You do seem very familiar, though. Have we met?" She nodded vigorously, and as he looked her over, she thought she saw remembrance in his expression. "I thought so," he said, getting excited. "I think you're the one I've been looking for! What's your name?"
Holly, she wanted to shout but could only mouth. Holly.
His countenance fell slightly. "You can't speak?"
She had to shake her head mournfully. It had only taken effect that day, but he didn't know that, and she couldn't tell him.
He deflated. "Oh," he said. "You couldn't be who I thought, then. My mistake." Holly and Beckett both sighed in frustration. "Well, I can't just leave you out here. Do you need a place to stay?"
Holly hesitated shortly, then nodded. Beckett, understanding for the most part what was being said, took her hand and tugged her toward the rest of the Fowl family. Artemis followed closely behind them. Angeline was the first to notice them coming back with an extra person. "Arty!" she called as they neared. "Who's this lovely young lady?"
"I don't know," he had to reply, looking somewhat abashed.
"Can't you just ask – oh." Holly had motioned to her throat. "Do you sign?" Angeline asked, signing the words as she spoke them. Holly shook her head apologetically.
As Mrs. Fowl tried to think of another method of communication, Artemis stepped in. "She has nowhere to go. I thought we could house her, at least for a few days." Holly quickly turned to him and held up three fingers. "Three days?" She nodded. "Three days," he relayed to his mother, who took a moment to consider it and then agreed.
"Yay!" Beckett grinned as he clung to Holly's arm. She smiled down at the little blonde boy; it had been too long since she had been around children.
"Simple-toon," came the call from behind Angeline. The other twin and Artemis Fowl I were coming up to meet the new member of their party. Holly was glad to see Artemis's father happy and healthy, as opposed to frozen and ill in the Arctic Ocean.
"Myles, I told you not to call people that," Angeline addressed her third son reprovingly.
"Who is this?" Mr. Fowl said warmly. Angeline was happy to do introductions. "I'm sure you've been through a lot," he said to Holly sympathetically. "We were planning on spending the afternoon here, but if you would rather go home and rest, we can do that." Holly smiled and shook her head to say it wasn't necessary; their compassion was overwhelmingly sweet, especially since they didn't even remember that they knew her.
"Are you sure, sweetie?" Angeline asked. "It really wouldn't be a problem." Holly shook her head again. "All right, then. The boys, Myles and Beckett, were asking to play in the water, so Artemis, could you please keep our guest company?" He complied, and they found seats on the sand as the Fowl parents accompanied the twins into the ocean.
Holly was not a fan of small talk, and she knew Artemis was not skilled at it either; however, she had to commend him for trying. After a few minutes, though, there was little else to say (or motion, in Holly's case) about the weather, so he steered the conversation in a more useful direction.
"I obviously can't just make up a name for you," Artemis said. Holly shrugged in agreement. "I suppose I'll just have to guess." He paused a moment, trying to think of common girls' names. "Is it Rachel?" She shook her head, frowning. "How about Diana?" She shook her head again. "Jessica?" And again.
A familiar-looking crab scuttled by them, frustration evident in his expression as he hissed, "Holly. Her name is Holly."
Artemis blinked, confused and certain he was hearing voices. "Holly?" he asked himself. Overhearing, she nodded emphatically. He smiled shortly. "Holly. That's . . . it's pretty. All right. Holly." She waited for some semblance of memory recovery ("oh, Captain Short, it's been a while, so good to see you") but of course none came. She felt ridiculous – her presence hadn't prompted him the last time he'd been mindwiped either – but there was nothing else for her to hope for.
"Holly?" She snapped her attention back to the young man beside her. "How old are you?" he repeated patiently.
Holly blinked, face blank as she realized she didn't know. She motioned for him to wait where he was, and then she hurried to the water's edge. Peering into it, she saw in her reflection what she had feared, or hoped, for – she was, of all things, a teenager. An older one, probably nearly twenty, actually, but a teenager nonetheless. D'Arvit, she mouthed at her reflection. D'Arvit. She was young for an elf, at eighty years old, but when Opal had made her the proportionate human age she hadn't expected it to be so . . . well, so young. And so close to Artemis's age. She swallowed. Gathering herself, she finally returned to Artemis's side and, taking her best guess, motioned one and nine for nineteen years old.
He nodded, and a comfortable silence settled between them as they watched the other Fowls wade in the water. Eventually six o'clock came around and the twins began to complain of hunger, so they and their parents dried off with some towels and then crowded into the Bentley with Artemis and Holly, who each held a twin on their laps out of necessity.
"I'm sorry," he apologized, "we weren't expecting company." She cast him a good-natured look that quite clearly said she didn't mind, which was true. Fairies didn't reproduce nearly as often as humans did, so children were few and far between. She had forgotten how well she liked them. Beckett, who of course had picked her lap over his brother's, seemed pleased by her presence as well. The arrangement was close but comfortable, and the atmosphere was pleasant as they drove home to Fowl Manor.
Dining Hall, Fowl Manor
An hour later, most of the residents of Fowl Manor had not yet arrived for dinner, but Butler and Artemis were already there, having a private discussion. "I'm sorry you couldn't accompany us to the beach," Artemis sighed, "but there was nothing I could do. My mother insisted it was to be just family."
"I still worried the entire time," Butler replied. "You attract trouble like no one else I know. And I haven't met this girl you brought home. She could be anyone – spy, assassin – "
"That's unreasonable. The Fowls are completely legitimate, and have been for several years." Artemis was firm in this. "However, about the girl. Her name is Holly."
A sad expression entered Butler's eyes, just for a moment. "Is it?"
"Yes." Artemis eyed him, trying to evaluate the strange reaction. "She'll be staying here for three days. She can't speak, but she can hear. What's odd, though, is that despite being mute, she reminds me uncannily of the girls in my dreams."
"Which," Butler interjected, "if I may remind you again, are only dreams. Not reality."
"I disagree. I'm sure these persistent dreams are projections of memory." Artemis's tone indicated they had debated this often. "I'm going to find that girl . . . and I'm going to marry her." There was finality in his words. Luckily for Butler's pulsing eye vein, the rest of the group arrived then. Mr. Fowl came in first, followed closely by the twins. Mrs. Fowl and Holly were still in the shadows. They could hear Angeline encouraging the guest.
"Come on, sweetheart, don't be shy," she said, a smile in her voice, and the two of them stepped into the dining hall as well. Holly was no longer clad in a sail (thank goodness) but in an emerald green dress, which probably had come from Angeline's own closet, since they hadn't had time to go shopping before dinner.
Angeline, that wily one, led Holly to Artemis. "Isn't she a vision?" she asked her son sweetly.
Artemis, however, seemed to be having trouble with coherency. "Well . . . um . . . you look fantastic," he finally managed, flushing just the slightest bit. Holly suppressed a grin; it would appear he had not improved his social skills much in a year. Since everyone had now arrived, they sat down around the table; ever the gentleman, Artemis helped Holly take her seat before sitting in the chair beside her.
From across the table, Butler was evaluating the guest. She didn't seem dangerous, but the best never did. Her auburn hair was long and thick – very innocent – but it was pulled back, revealing a slim, pointy build. Very black widow-like. The name also concerned him; not that there weren't other people in the world named Holly, but paired with the features it gave him cause for worry. He wished he had contact with Haven; Foaly would be able to tell him if the People had developed technology for species changes, which was what he suspected of their guest. Not that he would confront her about it if he found it to be true, because frankly, he was tired of lying to Artemis.
"What's for dinner?" Myles asked his mother.
"Chef Luc is – shh, dear!" The last part was directed at Beckett, who had begun chanting loudly that he was hungry. "Chef Luc is making his specialty – stuffed crab." Holly's eye twitched, and she prayed that Foaly had had the sense to stay out of the kitchen.
Kitchen
Which, of course, he hadn't. Foaly had hitched a ride to Fowl Manor in Holly's makeshift dress but had scuttled to freedom the moment they'd stepped inside. He'd taken the opportunity to check out the tech upgrades and security measures; then somehow he found himself in the kitchen, where he was getting chills, and it wasn't from the air conditioning. In front of him were –
Fish.
Dead fish.
Everywhere.
And on a large serving platter . . . stuffed crabs. Foaly felt nauseated and had the urge to run and hide, which wasn't helped when he noticed the song the Fowl chef was singing in a thick French accent as he prepared these barbarous things for dinner.
Nouvelle cuisine
Les Champs-Elysées
Maurice Chevalier
Les poissons, how I love les poissons
Love to chop and to serve little fish
First I cut off their heads, then I pull out their bones
Ah, mais oui, ḉa c'est toujours delish
Les poissions, les poissons, hee hee hee, haw haw haw
With the cleaver I hack them in two
Then I pull out what's inside, and I serve it up fried
'Cause I love little fishies, don't you?
Here's something for tempting the palate
Prepared in the classic technique
First you pound the fish flat with the mallet
Then you slash through the skin, give the belly a slice
Then you rub some salt in 'cause that makes it taste nice
"You're disgusting," Foaly blurted. His crab-size voice was too small for the chef to have heard the exact words, but the noise did catch the attention of the French man. Luc walked over to the counter and stared at what he thought was a forgotten part of the meal.
"Zut alors, I have missed one!" exclaimed the chef.
Sacrebleu! What is this?
How on earth could I miss
Such a sweet, little succulent crab?
Quel dommage! What a loss!
Here we go, in the sauce
Now some flour, I think just a dab
Then I'll stuff you with bread
It don't hurt 'cause you're dead!
And you're certainly lucky you are
'Cause it's gonna be hot
In my big silver pot
Toodle-oo, les poissons, au revoir!
Foaly barely managed to catch himself before he fell into the boiling water. With a cleverly aimed swing, he threw himself back onto the counter. Luc frowned as he heard the light clatter. "What," he asked, picking up the crab, "is this?" Foaly clamped a claw onto the chef's nose and beat a quick escape. Unfortunately, the French man would not give up so easily. Five minutes later, Angeline walked in to see her employee making a large, angry mess.
"Luc!" she exclaimed. He turned, looking bashful. "What are you doing?"
Luc sputtered for a moment before finally managing, "Sorry, madame." She sighed and picked up the platter of stuffed crabs to take to the dining hall.
Dining Hall
"Butler, please," Artemis senior was saying in a placating tone. The giant was unwilling, but at the insisting of his employer he handed over his Sig Sauer for Holly to inspect. She looked it over with interest, pleased to finally be of the size to hold it. "Do you shoot?" Mr. Fowl asked her. Hesitating a moment, she shook her head, but both Butler and Artemis recognized the practiced hand with which she held the Glock. When finally she relinquished it, Butler was glad to have it back in his possession.
"I have the food," called Angeline from the doorway; she came around and carefully set a covered plate in front of each person, ending with herself. After she sat down at her place beside Holly, she turned to address her eldest son on Holly's other side, uncovering her plate at the same time. Holly's eyes widened when she noticed Foaly himself curled up on Mrs. Fowl's plate; she motioned for him to jump into her hands.
"It's not a bad idea, if she's interested," Artemis was telling his mother. "What do you say, Holly?" She quickly hid her hands in her lap and turned to face him with her best Innocent look. "Would you like to join me for an outing tomorrow? Sightseeing in Ireland?" She smiled and nodded. He smiled in response, the expression actually reaching his clear blue eyes.
"Arty," Angeline exclaimed, "that's the first time I've seen you smile in weeks!" Holly couldn't hide a small smirk as she watched the flustered teenager hurriedly change the subject.
Later That Night
Holly was wandering the halls of Fowl Manor in a very recently purchased nightdress. Honestly, she would probably have been more comfortable in some boxer shorts and a large t-shirt, but she appreciated the Fowls' hospitality, and besides, that was not exactly a request you made to people you had supposedly just met. Her shoulders shook with silent laughter as she played out the scene in her head.
"But I don't like Beowulf!" whined a child from a bedroom around the corner. Another child's voice agreed. Beckett and Myles, doubtless.
"We read part of Beowulf last night," an older boy, Artemis, pointed out.
"And we didn't like it then," said Myles. "Can we read 'Fousand and One Nights?" When Beckett agreed, Artemis sighed in defeat and pulled out the new book. Holly could hear the fwip, fwip, fwip as he browsed antiquated pages to find a certain story.
"The Story of Prince Ahmed and Periebanou."
"Perie-what?" asked Beckett. Even after Artemis sounded out the name again, the blonde was still confused. "Just call her Perie."
Artemis frowned. "You tell me that every time we read this."
"Artemis is a simple-toon," Myles whispered to his twin, who grinned in agreement. Artemis just sighed again and began to read. Holly stayed where she was to listen, hidden behind the wall by the open door.
"There once was a Sultan of India who had three sons, named Houssain, Ali, and Ahmed. In that land there was also a beautiful princess, Nouronnihar – "
"Call her Noury," Beckett interrupted again; "these names are too hard to remember."
"You're taking all the culture out of the story," Artemis scolded, but he used the shortened names as he read how all three sons wanted to marry the princess, and to prevent jealousy the Sultan sent them off to find rarities, promising the princess's hand to him who found the most extraordinary one. The Fowl twins actually quieted to hear about Houssain's flying carpet, Ali's magical looking glass, and Ahmed's all-curing artificial apple. Holly herself hadn't realized she was leaning in to listen until Artemis paused in his storytelling to look up and smile at her. Smiling back guiltily, she took a seat by the door to hear the rest.
When the met again, Artemis continued, they showed each other what they had bought. However, when Ali's tube showed Princess "Noury" on her deathbed, they used Houssain's carpet and Ahmed's apple to transport to her chambers and cure her. Because each rarity had an important part in saving her life, the Sultan had to issue a new challenge – whoever could shoot an arrow the farthest on her hand. All three participated, but Ahmed's arrow could not be found, so Noury was given to Ali for marriage. Ahmed wished to know where his arrow had fallen, so he went out to search for it. He found it in some steep craggy rocks, where he also encountered a large iron door, which opened to a stairway leading o a magnificent palace. Here he was met by a majestic, beautiful damsel and her group of attending ladies, all richly dressed.
"'Come near, Prince Ahmed,' said the lovely lady. 'You are welcome.' She requested him to sit beside her on a sofa, then explained that her name was 'Perie' and that she was the daughter of one of the most powerful fai – fairies . . ." Artemis trailed off uncharacteristically, his brow furrowing as though he had a sudden headache. "But she should be short . . . " Holly's heart skipped a beat.
"No, it says she's tall," Myles said, pointing to the word on the page.
Exhaling, Artemis lifted his eyes. "You're right, of course." He continued reading up to Ahmed and Perie's marriage and wedding feast, then closed the book.
"Hey! What about the lions?" Beckett complained.
"And the angry dwarf!" Myles put in.
"Tomorrow night," Artemis promised as he stepped out of the room, allowing his parents in to put the boys to bed. Noticing that Holly also was retreating, he called, "Good night." She smiled and gave a small wave in return before entering her bedroom.
"This has been, without a doubt, the single most humiliating day of my life," groused Foaly from atop a dresser, earning a pat on the head from Holly. "I hope you appreciate what I go through for you." Holly was preparing for bed, but something occurred to her and she whirled on him, pointing to her left eye and using her hands to mimic sparks. "Oh, your eye?" A nod. "That was N°1; he just changed the color. Entirely artificial. What, do you want it back to blue?" Another nod, fiercer this time. "We'll run by the river early tomorrow morning. He'll be there. I don't know why you want Artemis's eye color back if you can have your own, but okay, whatever." She gave him an exasperated look as she dropped onto the bed. "Now, for tomorrow, we have to make a plan to get that boy to kiss you," Foaly plotted. "You'll have to look your best. You have to bat your eyes and pucker your lips . . . oh." He had looked over and noticed that Holly was already falling asleep.
"You're hopeless, Holly," Foaly said with no conviction as he curled up to sleep on her pillow. "Completely hopeless."
Police Plaza
Commander Root stared angrily out a window, his usual fungus cigar missing. The room was quiet, and the silence was barely broken by the entrance of Vinyáya. He turned to address the wing commander. "Any sign of them?"
"No, Julius," she replied, inwardly distressed herself. "I have Section Eight all over it. We've found no trace of Captain Short, Foaly, or N°1."
"Well, keep looking," Root ordered. "Leave no shuttle unsearched, no building unexplored. Let no one under earth sleep until they are safe in Haven!"
Vinyáya sighed. "Yes, of course," she said, slipping out as quietly as she had come.
Root sank tiredly into his chair. "What have I done," he groaned to himself. "What have I done?"