Yep, it's the one you've been waiting for.

For anyone who doesn't under stand Italian (like myself) email me for info. Honestly, you can do without it. For those of you that do, I'm sorry if it's not properly phrased. I can't speak it; everything came from an online dictionary.

You know the drill, read and review!

My thanks to katana777, Belle07, fanXforever and many others who have reviewed, or a the very least read this Fanfiction. It's chapter layout plans to be over 40 chapters long (yeah, I know, it'll take me forever) But I have 22 of the 42 chapters written, and the deadline in June. Wish me luck!

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Artemis called, suggesting they meet for dinner in a trendy café by the harbor. Meet, not pick up by her request, the girls having not gotten an apartment to act as the prop to be "Tara's" home. Not that Artemis was privy to this information.

With the time to ponder their meeting Artemis had found (using a neutral side of his logic) her character too casual, her tone too sharp, her intellect to…natural was a word for it-she seemed to irk only him with it as opposed to scaring the average person-, and her wardrobe an little too…too…

"Slutty" was the only adjective that came to mind, and the kindest compared to the other in Artemis's large vocabulary.

She wouldn't suite him for long term, but this game wouldn't end just because of a few minor flaws. He was having fun. He could mold her to fit his needs, then after he was done…

Okay, "throwing-her-back-to-the-ditch-she-came-from" seemed a bit extreme. He'd simply let her go. By the time he was through with the girl she would be a more productive, polite, and fuller person. It would be a win-win situation. Perhaps he could even explain it to her, promise money, knowledge, power, something. They would make a business deal. Some how he had to make it more humane, kinder to her.

"Artemis has changed! He doesn't use people anymore, not like before, anyways."

The young man cringed as he recalled the words some brave fairy had told her commander when questioned of her comrade's loyalty. He had changed… the girl would get compensation, he wasn't using her. Just… taking advantage of her lack of knowledge and her lovely appearance.

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"Hello, Artemis."

The keen eyes peered out at him behind the frames of dark sunglasses. She slid them off and offered a shy smile. Had it really been only 3 days? She looked even more beautiful than on the 12th, glorious, and stunning, momentarily taking his breath away.

He looked a bit startled at being addressed by such a wonder that he was silent for longer than necessary. Her smile began to slightly fade. Finally he offered a cool smile then stood to pull out her chair.

" Tara. Good to see you again. You look lovely."

Today she was in black slacks, some pink flowy thing, strappy black-with-rhinestones heels, and a crystal pendant necklace. Still not quiet her style. She was a classic beauty. Vintage style along with toned down colours would suite her well, he would have to work on that also. This was still better than the dress, not that it hadn't made her look appealing just… too appealing. The genius didn't want the relationship to move that far.

"You as well. How'd the other rendezvous go?" She was trying so hard to keep a straight face, but it was so hard.

"Ah, this is my first. And only."

"Really?"

" No. No one else caught my eye. They might have, had they stayed."

"Too bad."

Artemis shrugged. "I didn't think I would have given a fair evaluation after having met you. So I dismissed them. Or I was going to. Odd, how shortly after you left, so did they. Apparently-" His hazel-and-blue eyes sparkled. "-You 'Beat me to the punch", I believe the term is?"

He quiet liked the rose-colored her cheeks became after he "Beat her to the punch".

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"You are an artist?" Artemis asked interestly.

"Mm-hmm. I don't sell much; it's more a hobby now than a career. I work more than I sell. The process calms me."

The sisters had always found that lying and acting was always easier when the lie was close to the truth, or the subject was something you felt strongly about; the two most strongest feelings being love and hate they worked from that. So Sophia sat across from a man who could easily kill her, lying quiet smoothly, feeding the acting through her love of art. Everything was faster that way. The girls kept the lies more controlled; less tangled and messy, than normally is seen, they could keep the lies straight better. It was also more convenient due to Artemis's own passion for the talent of panting, sculpting, drawing et cetera.

"I find that the more one enjoys their profession, the better they are at it."

"Ha. Well, it appears my love is greater than my talent, since no one is buying. But that is good; I would hate to lose any of my pieces, they each tell a story, my story."

"Can I hear one?"

"It wouldn't make sense without the canvas here. Maybe some day."

"Who is your favorite ar-"

But the waiter had arrived to take their orders. She ordered some Mediterranean pasta dish, and he requested steak. Medium-rare. She raised a brow. He didn't seem like a steak kind of guy. But she barely knew him.

"Are you vegetarian? " He asked, frowning. Not at her, at himself. He should have asked before the meal. His mental self slapped his forehead in disgust

"No, no." She said hastily. "You just did not seem to be the steak type. More…soup. Yes, I imagined you a soup guru."

"Soup?" He mocked offense. "You're saying I'm dull?"

It worked; she laughed. "I don't know, Artemis. What do you do with your spare time?"

"Hmmm." He mused. "I work on quantum-physics essays, read things like computer manuals and 'Critical Theory Since Plato'"

She tossed him a "Good-God-you've-got-to-be-joking" look.

"Seriously?"

The pale young man across the table smirked.

"No. I read, yes, but novels not anything of educational worth. And I paint. Most argue I exceed more in drawing."

"Really?" She leaned forward. "Abstract, impressionist, classical style or…life drawings, perhaps?"

Her excitement was catching. Artemis allowed himself a smile. " A mix. It depends on what I'm feeling. I also compose. ? More classical works, but I have let out some more…modern pieces. Since we're on the arts, could you tell me whose pieces you favour?"

"Mmm." She bit her lip, a habit Artemis disliked, but kept to himself. It wasn't proper first date etiquette to attempt to teach your date manners. One rule he'd learned first hand.

It took a while to consider. Da Vinci, O'Keefe, Picasso, Remenbrant… or that one abstract artist…what were they called?

"Annie Leibovitz." She finally announced. "She's a photographer-"

"I'm familiar with her works" Artemis started, but she cut over him quickly, picking up on his knack to lecture.

"My favorite photo is the one on the Chrysler building. Where the dancer is on the gargoyle. It has a flow to it, a peace, even though this man is up on this ledge of metal, hundreds of feet away from the busy, car-infested ground. " She smiled. "And the John Lennon photo. It was so caring. You could see the love."

The look on her face was dreamy. He took note that she had ended the last sentences in French. It was something of a second language to her, falling into sentences whenever she seemed to be out of herself. Maybe due to the fact her mother was French she grew up speaking it, putting English and French together randomly in some phrase became habit.

"And yours?"

"Da Vinci." He answered. In Italian. Perfect Italian. "He isn't my favorite, though one I admire greatly."

She gave a curious glance but didn't ask to be answered. "A good choice."

"Yours was interesting. Would you like to meet her? Annie?"

Her eyes went wide. " Puio fai quello, Artemis?"

"Si, esso aspirante essere mio compiacersi." He smiled. "Fa quantoDoposettimanaforse?"

"Maybe." She tilted her head. "That's excellent Italian. Perfectly accented. I sound like a blundering American."

She sighed.

"Really? I though you were quiet good. Who taught you?"

"Some neighbor I had years a go, a little Italian woman. Very kind." She replied vaguely. "Food's here."

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"Tell me about your sister."

"Ah, my sibling. Sa-" But she stopped her self in time, blushing. "-arh. Sarah."

She was really getting too caught up, forgetting she was not Sophia, but Tara. Mentally she smacked her self.

"She is wonderful. Knows me better than anyone. We get along most of the time, though it is hard, with out a parental unit around. Gets a little…wild. 9 years ago she was diagnosed with Schizophrenia. Outbreaks aren't as bad now that she's on medication. When she was a child…" Tara shuddered. "I love her, though. More than anything."

"How old is she?"

"Nearly 17. A rebellious teen. Normal. Perfect"

"Is she …as intelligent-"

"As I am?" Artemis nodded.

"No. We don't think it was necessarily a genetic trait. She's more like Mama. Stubborn. Looks like her too. Blue eyes. But she isn't stupid. Her IQ is great, for her age. If we had let her go to a public school in America, like she wished she would have been in the academically gifted class."

"Is she annoying, with that stubbornness?"

"Ha. No again. She's the organized one, actually. The neat freak. I earned the title of most frustrating, the room is chaotic when leave."

She was loosing track again. Sasha had said he was very orderly, she was proving to be opposite. Get back on track, Sophie.

"Does she clean for you?"

"No. I ask her to, never. I can pull my own weight. She just usually pushes me to do so, most of the time I'm so wrapped up in the latest piece."

This was annoying. Artemis should hate this girl. She was messy, rude, flashy. Yet he liked her. Quiet a lot. He took a sip of his water and though of another question. Maybe this answer would make him hat the girl. A very strong part of him wanted to, somehow he just couldn't muster the emotion.

"Could you live without her? Move? Or are you going to live together forever?"

That came out wrong. Now he was being rude.

She laughed, a beautiful sound. " Go insane. She has been talking of moving out lately. I've done my best to convince her otherwise. It's sad really. I'm acting like her mother, pretty so I'll be dressing like one."

Please do. Said one side of his conscience.

But she's so young! Said another, in a whisper. The side that liked this girl.

"Are you ever worried with her illness that she might hurt herself if she were to live alone?" He asked

"Yes. Yet another reason why I ask her to stay. Suicide rates are higher now than ever. Save 1929."

"You speak of death openly."

"I do. Sugarcoating it is something I can't stand. I mean, yeah, kids can have it, but me? My sister? We've seen it. We know it. There's no point lying about it, not talking about it. 'Death is but the next great adventure.'" She shrugged, wine glass in hand, the liquid sloshing about in the glass.

"Does that mean you give truths, bluntly state everything?"

"No. But I try to give honestly. When you could loose everything in a blink, you are more open. Staying with reality makes you enjoy and accept life more too."

"Not many people see from that perspective."

"Oh, they do." She gave a sad smile. "But it's easily forgotten. Anger, rage, jealousy. They consume you. Amazing really, as love is the strongest emotion. I would never forgive myself if that rage caused Sas-Sarah to commit suicide. So I try, harder than most."

Artemis simply looked at her. Such a clear un-muddled sense of her world. The world she thought she knew. She was brave, to accept death. People of her age rarely could. People of 21 are not so serious.

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Coffee, it turned out, was her favorite beverage. In any form. Cream, sugar, black, iced the girl loved it. Instead of trying to change this disgusting love of such a nasty drink Artemis sipped his own Earl Gray and continued the questioning. Well, he attempted to. Tara apparently wanted to do some interrogating of her own. Not that he objected.

"Why isn't Butler here?"

"It's his night off."

"Do you feel safe without him?"

"Fairly."

"Who is your closest friend?"

"I don't have many." He admitted. "Most of the boys at University were fools. I saw no need to associate with them."

"Are you lonely? Do you want friends?"

"Are you a physiatrist? Trying to psychoanalyze me? " He teases.

"Maybe. I know you are, on both accounts. PhD, right?"

"Perhaps."

"What haven't you done? MD, multiple PhDs, an author, discovery of alternative energy sources, musician, artist…inventor, I'll bet too. Talked to any ghost lately, or seen fairies? Time traveled much?" Tara grinned.

"A little."

"Take me with you, Artemis?"

"Hmmm. Maybe. Just tell me where."

Those green eyes sparkled. " Paris, late 1800s. Or Rome, Caesar's rise. Egypt, the golden era. Neferiti's reign. Anywhere. Venice, where the masters worked!"

"Someday, I promise."

"And we'll eat gelato. I'll buy."

"Anything but lemon flavoured."

The conversation continued at a rapid pace. Until it hit one tiny speed bump.

"Why did you advertise in the newspaper? Surely you knew…" She drifted off, leaving the sentence hanging, biting her lip.

He just gazed back, daring her to finish the sentence.

Artemis had not wanted this topic to come up, at least not tonight. Of course he knew she would ask, the obvious stupidity of his act was in bold black ink in multiple newspapers. It was strategize, perfect to suite his needs. The IQ he could stand, the age, the beauty, the nationality for god's sake! 160 was nearly impossible for the average person to get on a duped IQ test. The women who actually had red hair (considering how few there were) and the number of people with IQs over 160 averaged out to be a small number. This man, a man of extreme intellect could surely see that!

But Artemis could answer honestly; that it was a game, and a way for him to remain single. Because that would hurt her, and he was really starting to like this girl. But he couldn't lie; she almost for sure would detect it. Earlier in the evening she had proven she could quiet easily sense forgery of emotion.

And she wouldn't stop staring right back. With a sigh he finally answered. The truth…to a percent. He wasn't lying, just…not giving up all the cards. Only a few.

"I'm not sure." He shook his head. " I wanted to make my parents happy, just on my terms. They were going to prance me around like I was some prized hound to all the rich of Europe. They just wanted what was best for me. I could marry anyone, rich or underprivileged, and it wouldn't have mattered. I know they only were trying to help, but I just didn't want their rules. So, I compromised. I stay on the dating scene for a year and six months, with my terms, women I choose. They get to meet, give input, generally approve-disapprove whomever, but I d get final say. If in that year and a half I do not get engaged, I can do whatever I wish with my love life. So, I choose to put an ad in the newspaper-"

"Not expecting any decent girls."

"Not really, no. But I did find you."

"Hm."

"And I like you a lot. Quiet a lot."

" Right." His pleading expression was heartbreaking. If you were 10 years old, blind, and/or had a basic idea of human expression. "So, I'm a ticket for you to get out of Mummy and Daddy's marriage contract. Date me for a year and a half, you can marry a male model for all they care, right?"

"No. You're a 'I'll-give-dating-another-shot-maybe-this-beautiful-girl-can-work-out-ticket.'"

"I'm serious. The only reason I'm here is for Sarah. I want a real relationship."

"As do I."

Silence presumed. And nothing but for the next four minutes while they sipped their after dinner drinks.

" You don't express yourself well with people, do you?"

"No. Not really. When I was young-"

Tara leaned over, gave him a peck on the cheek, achieving the desired affect of shutting him up.

"Please, no after meals psychology, Artemis."

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It was better than expected. A lot better. Sorry for the wait, I've been reading. Speaking of which…

"The Sweet Far Thing" by Libba Bray

"Jinxed" by Meg Cabot

and the Artemis Fowl Graphic novel are all great reads.

Just sayin'. They're good.

No offense to my lovely red-haired readers. In the above I did not mean that red heads a necessarily less intelligent than people of other hair colours, simply that with the fact that you are rare and people with IQ over 150 are too a hard find in mind, the average is slim. Not that I am implying any lack of intellect of our world's "reds" as they are so fondly called in the US. Oddly enuff, bald people get this name more often.

-MDQ10