Geeze, I forgot my disclaimers in the last few chapters.
DISCLAIMER Artemis Fowl is not mine.
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The photos and footage flashed across the large flat screen. News anchors and reporters talked, feigning sadness. Numbers, audios, the words rolling across the bottom of the screen. It was all there, a testament to what CNN was. Artemis saw all of it. If he hadn't heard the reporters, he could have easily read their lips. For all audios he could call forth subtitles in mere milliseconds. He spoke any languages, English included.
Yet it was like every single thing on that television screen was gibberish. None of it made sense, yet it all did. He stood, staring at it until his feet ached, then he sank to the floor. The gaze he sent it never faltered.
Butler tapped his shoulder, praying for a glare, a usual custom for Artemis (oh, how he hated tapping!). He received one, but the boy didn't speak.
"When did you last get a call giving her whereabouts?"
"Four hours ago." He was quiet. "Have you been called yet?"
"By whom?"
"The morgue."
Butler raised an eyebrow. "How did you guess?"
Artemis shrugged. "It was in her information. You were her contact."
"Why?"
"So you could tell me, I suppose."
"So you think it was planned."
Artemis turned to face the windows, gazing out at the gray sky. "I'm not ruling that out." He said softly. "That would explain why she returned the topaz. But I do not think that it was suicide. I'm just looking at all the angles." His voice had a slight crack.
"Do you want to stay here?"
"No. But first," He sighed, lowering himself into a chair and putting his head on his hands, looking up at the manservant. "first can we go by her apartment? To pick up some things."
Butler paused. She had left so much of her stuff here, what could he possibly want?
"Yes. And you don't have to go in with me to ID the corpse."
"I want to."
"Yes, sir." Butler backed out, surprised by his employer's control.
When his bodyguard left Artemis crossed to the window, looking out across the lawn to the gate and toward the city. On a very clear day one could see the docks, and the ocean. If it was clear. But day it was cloudy. He wished the clouds would just open allowing the rain to fall, washing away the day, ending the terrible 24 hours before him. She might be dead. She might be alive and well, still eluding him and more than happy to continue doing so. Maybe she would see the news report and come home. He just didn't know any more. Predictions were beyond him today. Everything was fuzzy.
"Are you dead?" He asked her.
The clear silence answered with only the echo of his question, forming a big "Perhaps."
A small framed photo, her photo, sat on his desk. Tara grinned up, blue-green eyes twinkling, peachy-keen smile and two fingers forming a peace sign. The next photo, the one taken after the framed picture, held the ASL sign for "meat". It was a while before lunch, the day that photo had been taken, and she was trying to amuse him. The day had been warm, perfect for just lazing about together.
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"Are we going to eat soon?" She'd asked, moaning and holding her stomach. He lowered the camera, giving her a mock glare.
"Not if you don't hold still. I want a photo."
"Aren't you taking my cue?"
"What do you mean?"
"I'm the one whose suppose to be normal," she grumbled. "And want stuff like that."
He plopped himself down beside her (A first. When you're a Fowl you don't just plop!) on the bench. She placed her head in his lap, settling down with the newspaper Juliet had brought them. He promptly plucked it from her grasp, a slim black eyebrow raised.
"So you are the normal one?" He asked slowly, each word pronounced as though it was special. Tara nodded solemnly, eyes narrowed from the sunlight beaming down.
"Yes. I am." She pulled Artemis forward, using his half bent form as a shield against the burning ball of gas that was presently bothering her. To an outsider it would look as though he was leaning in for a kiss. She felt around to his back, where he held the day's news ransom.
"You are?" He said again.
"Yes."
"You who speaks over seven languages, who can name all Roman emperors in 60 seconds, who can understand the dead sea scrolls and hieroglyphs in King Seti I's tomb but cannot grasp the simplest quantum physics, let alone some forms of basic algebra, you who has a PhD in genetic science but doesn't know how to order clothing online is normal?"
"In comparison to you, then, yes. Very much so."
Artemis lowered his face till it was a mere three inches above hers. Her eyes were glued to the newspaper she had finally managed to retrieve.
"Alright then." He had said lazily, sitting up straight, examining his nails. "Oh, one more thing: Will you marry me?"
"Again?"
He looked up, slightly startled, brow raised. "I'm just making sure."
"You've asked 78 times! It has been five days. That's 120 hours, Arty. Like, close fairly close to one question an hour if you discount sleeping time. "
"I've not asked that many times!"
"Yes, you have!" She pulled out a tiny pad of paper with tally marks (78 in total, divided into a box on the grid, one box per day). "Obsessive much? Or let's try possessive."
"Answer the question."
"Stubborn too!" She sat up to kiss him, long and slow. Pulling back, she scrutinized him. "That answer your question?"
He began to nod, so she cut across him. "Good, now shut up and stop asking."
Artemis glared, annoyed. He was having fun, asking constantly. Plus, he received more kisses. What was normally one or two a day had skyrocketed to twelve. Though, by the looks of things now, it would be bumped to slaps pretty soon.
However, it wasn't just the making out. He also needed assurance. The hesitant answer and the hell he had to go through to get it wasn't very supportive of the said answer. It worried him. What if it was a lie, a result of his forcing her to promptly reply? He believe if she constantly was reminded of her promise, whether it be true or not, it would stick in her mind so by breaking it would cause supreme guilt.
The constant reminder was making her feel guilty now, though not for saying a false yes, rather, by meaning her words. Her sister would be so very disappointed. Sophia both hated and lovedhow he constantly asked. Yes, it made her feel all fluttery inside, full of the joy normal bride-to-bes possessed until the guilt came upon her.
A breeze floated by, and Sophia closed her eyes, taking in the warm summer air. What a nice day. Artemis shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. She cracked open an eye lazily. "Lunch'll be done soon. Relax. You need a break, cooped up indoors all day talking to the big shots. Soak up some vitamin D, darling. "
"It's not that-" He started, but was stopped when Juliet rounded the hedge corner, smiling.
"Hell-o you two! Ready for lunch?"
"Totally." Tara stood to follow. "Coming love?" She turned back to Artemis, whose elbows rested on his knees. He looked very pale today, like copy paper. Concerned, she walked back, pushing back the wing of raven hair to feel his forehead. The white, flawless skin was a little warm, though not unusual considering the weather.
"I'm fine." He assured her as she helped him to his feet. "Just getting old."
Tara chuckled. "Dear god, I've forgotten. Nearly 27, aren't we? My, my how old. You must feel like a pedophile, hanging out with a child like me."
Artemis attempted a weak smile himself. He had not mentioned his three-year age gap to her, nor did he plan to anytime soon. It was just another thing to keep.
"Yes, actually, considering your maturity." She punched him playfully as he turned his attention to Juliet. "Could you wait a moment? We won't be more than ten minutes. "
"Right." She nodded and turned back to the house. Tara giggled when she heard "On my back telling me to get it done so damn quickly…"
"Really, you shouldn't do that to her. She can deck you easily. As can I." She reminded. "What is it you wanted to tell me? Or ask." Her eyes were narrow, daring him to ask the fateful question that would indisputable land him with a bruise.
"It's related to that." He said causiously, keeping a wary eye on her punching arm. Careful.
"Do you want a ring?"
She blinked. That was unexpected. "Um." They hadn't really mentioned it. Unconciously, she backed up. "Not really." Had she implied she needed one? "Why do you ask?"
He shrugged. "Just wondering."
"You can get one, if you feel the need. But aren't we keeping it kinda secret?" She moved back another foot.
"Yes. But I'd just feel more…comforted if you had one."
Her mouth twisted into a smirk, eyes twinkling. "Is this another control issue, Arty?"
Some shiny weights to keep me from leaving?
"No." He said coolly. "It is merely an offer. A gift, if you will."
"I won't. What is it? A reminder while I'm in that big bad city that I'm taken?"
"It's a offer." He sighed. "Most women would jump at such a chance. Many beg for jewelry."
"Most women who do that don't support themselves. Those women who do who are like that feel like their spouses should buy them shiny things as displays of affection. Most women are not married to you, love. And I am not like most women. However cliché that line may sound, it's true, my love. You pick me out of that line up because I was unlike 'most woman.'" She formed little quotations with her fingers, smirk replaced by cool mockery. Tara leaned forward, eyes glinting. "And I assure you I will never beg."
She straighten. "Thank you for the offer." Her tone was cordial, slightly taunting. His eyes met hers. Boy is he mad. Maybe I shouldn't have pushed it. The mismatched eyes flamed.
"Tara." He said in warning.
She hadn't ever had it directed toward her, but Sophia knew he had an aweful temper when pushed. He was more serious than she was about this whole marriage situation. Tara mocked it, pushed the belt, and pissed him off quite a lot in the process. It was walking on glass when dealing with the wedding subject. Sometimes he joked with her, others he glared and snapped.
"Artemis." Her tone matched his. Then she grinned, leaning back against the wall. "Aw, go ahead and get one. Sexist pig. Make sure it's a big rock, okay?"
"Tara." He sighed, sitting back down. "Please be serious. I want to tell you..." I know who you are. I love you. Sophia…it doesn't matter to me. Does it to you?
"Yes?" She had crossed to stand before him again, hands on her hip, smiling lightly.
"Speak of the devil." He murmured. "Go have lunch. I'll be out here awhile." I need to sort things out in my head.
"In a moment."
"Gods, woman, can you never answer any request? Please-"
She had curled up in lap, kissed him full on the lip. Pulling away, she sighed disappointedly. "Alright."
"No, no no." Artemis pulled her back, panting. She scooted off, shaking her head.
"Ah, no. I'm filling in your request, darling. Farewell." Skipping off into the path, Tara blew him a kiss.
"Soph--Tara!" He cursed. He needed to stop calling her that in his mind. Their continuous teasing was stressful some days, making him forget.
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"If I don't change you, would it be so terrible of me?" He wondered aloud, speaking as though she was still alive, could still hear him.
Below him the red Bently pulled up in the drive. Butler got out and walked to the steps. When he reached the first one, he glanced up to Artemis' room. Artemis met his eyes and nodded.
Butler returned the nod. He spun, walking back to the car. Artemis sighed, grabbed a backpack to hold any possessions, and exited the room. Heading down stairs a searing thought crossed his mind: She's gone.
It was lighting.
He stumbled, catching the fall just in time by grabbing the railing. A hot pain filled his chest. He clutched the area around his heart. The pulse was wild. It was like a sonic boom of emotions. Regret, anger, hate, denial, love, devastation, loss, despondent, overwhelming grief, emptiness, passion….Gods, is this how she felt when Sasha jumped? Like she was being ripped…apart slowly, then quickly, like poison. It was nothing to be compared to Minerva's departure. Then it had been cold barrenness, a blank hole of a life. Here it was ten times worse, with emotions deeper. Maybe because he had known Minerva was still alive, still breathing, still with a pulse. Sophia…it could have been suicide. A Terrorist attack. A painful, slow drowning, or burning, or blood loss. Blunt force trauma. Strangulation. Anything. Hell, she could alive. It could be a trick. Anything.
Nearly ten minutes passed as he stayed in the nearly-falling pose, shock filling the silence and time. Butler didn't come back indoors until exactly ten minutes passed.
"Artemis?"
The young man could see the huge front doors from the step. He straightened, smoothing back his hair in a fluid motion. The bodyguard eyed him warily. The boy's eyes were still wide and his hands trembled.
"Do you want to wait?" He asked gently, concern filling his eyes. He'd had the same experience over twenty years ago. It was vivid memory. The crushing, suffocation blow. Like drowning. His charge was much younger than he was all those years ago, and already fragile in his emotions. Such a down pour must be murder.
"No." Artemis' voice was sharp. He was determined. The sooner she was confirmed, the sooner she could come home. He would bury her beside Sasha. Then story would be over, like a bad dream with no proof of existence. A blurry memory of a terrible and wonderful time. "We're going."
"Yessir."
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The car pulled out of the drive, steady and paced. Artemis sat in the back, the tinted glass that created a divider between him and Butler in the front seat was up for the first time in years. Tara didn't like it, and refused to put it up even when they were trying to be private. She thought it was rude.
The ride to the city was longer than usual. A multitude of vehicles were headed to the docks and sea side. Families, friends, media persons, and the morbid people who just wanted entertainment. Some vans filled with coffee, sandwiches, and donuts for the searchers. The roads were painful to drive through, a normally ten to fifteen minute drive becoming a thirty to forty-five minute one. Butler's already dim humor was sacked completely, though he kept a façade of serenity for his charge's sake.
When they finally reached the city, Artemis' own careful expression was marred by a few wet drops. Minutes previously, the loud sirens of ambulances pierced the silence. He had flicked on the built-in telly on to CNN.
It was not her. A man, in his fifties, had been found clinging to a door. Artemis took down the fellows name to memory. Maybe he could be of use later.
They passed the morgue. Butler slowed, glancing back at his charge. He got on to the walkie-talkie, inquiring as to whether Artemis wanted to go on in or wait. "Go to the apartment." He instructed. Butler complied, pulling back onto the street.
Such a drive was torture for Artemis. Regrets filled his present thought, chasing his previous optimism. She's dead was repeated over and over, echoing into a dark mantra, one made of pure nightmares. Yes, she must have felt like this after Sasha…Gods, why did I attack her so soon after…?
"Sir?"
What? Artemis opened his eyes, blinking from the gray light cast down from the sky. The side door was open. Butler stood holding it open, apprehension clear in his expression. Artemis tasted salt. His face was wet, his eyes felt damp, and enlarged, something he often experienced when crying. He must have blacked out without realizing it.
"We're here." The bodyguard explained. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
Artemis blinked again, and sat up. "Yes." He glanced up. The sky had darkened to a steely slate.
"It's going to rain soon." Butler observed. He helped Artemis out. They boy's legs were jell-o at this point. He steadied himself on the car's frame, still looking at the sky. "Do you want me to check it out?" He nodded to the building before them. With all the reporters huddling around in recent days it wouldn't be surprising if something unwanted still resided in the structure.
Artemis came back to earth, jumping slightly and looking at his employee as though he'd never seen anything so shocking as a darkening skyline. "Ah, no. I'll bring the…the pistol."
Butler raised a brow. "Artemis. You can't shoot."
"No matter." The boy dismissed the fact as a minor issue. "It's threatening." He set off for the steps.
"Whoa." Butler held him back. "What are you plotting, Artemis? Do you know some tidbit that might be a little important to this situation?" The manservant glared down, recalling many instances where only partial truth was given. Everything had, in the end, worked out, but unnecessary thing had been risked in the process without 100 guarantee that the plans would work.
"Nothing, Butler. Nothing. May I?" He gestured to the door, tugging on his jacket.
"Alright." The bodyguard said, hesitant. "If there is any trouble, come out immediately. The material cost isn't worth it. " He did not feel good, letting his charge go in without protection (Madam Ko would have had a heart attack had she seen him do so.) but had he insisted, Artemis would have gotten pushy. This was something Artemis had to do alone. It was a private mourning time. Or something more. His charge had something up his sleeve.
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The air was warm in the house. It smelled of vanilla and cleaning supplies. Had someone been tidying up the place. On the wall beside him, the one siding the stairs, there were photos, mostly of pets and places. A vase of daisies sat on the bar table under the frames. The flowers were clearly fresh. He frowned. Someone leaving gifts? Surely there couldn't be new occupants already. Didn't they own the house?
Artemis turned to the left, to the sitting room. It was a square, cozy place with a fireplace and plump, comfy furniture. The nick-knacks that had previously sat on shelves or tables were now mostly gone. Three thick buttery candles stood on the mantle, burning, giving off a thick vanilla aroma. Behind the couch a neat line of boxes sat, marked and taped. Was someone sneaking in and packing what they'd like as they fancied?
He returned to the foyer, frowning. What was going on? Had she hired some one to do this, or was it a break in? A few breaking notes crumbled his concentration. From the upper floor, the 2nd floor where the bedrooms were from the sounds of it. And faintly…
"Every night I hope and pray….
A dream lover will come my way…"
Bobby Darin's cheery lyrics were completely out of the moment. But it was a sign. Somebody was there.
In speed one normally would not associate with Artemis Fowl II, he jogged up the stairs, searching for the source. There was a chance that she had just left her CD player on by mistake. Or that someone was there. How was it that they didn't hear him enter? It wasn't as though he was incredibly quiet.
"And know the magic of her charms…
"Cause I want a girl…to caaalll my owwwn…"
It was coming from the left room, the larger one he had assumed to be Sophia's. The pistol came out. His blood pounded. Who ever was in here was going to be very, very sorry. They had picked the wrong time to plunder his fiancée's apartment. Gods, he was using a lot of control. Quietly, he nudged the door, glancing in.
A female stood, back to him, facing the window, in front of the bed. She appeared to be folding clothes and putting them in either a cardboard box or a black suitcase. Artemis' eyes narrowed. Bloody hell, she was nicking clothing too! Underwear! She paused, and for a moment he feared he had been discovered. But she simply turned (still not facing him) to grab a remote off the bedside table and turned up the music.
Her hair was dark and shortly cropped. Since the room was so shadowed he couldn't make out much more. The seconds passed, then he heard her speak. It was a mumbled "Damn", and not loud enough to recognize any of it's features. She lifted her hands and pulled off her hair, reveling a tumble of thick curls under the wig. Artemis muffled a gasp. It was too coincidental. The hair was dark red, she was the right height….he was about to enter when the final piece proved his sudden theory.
"I want a dream lover so I don't have to dream alone…"
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I love this song. It's just so retro and cute! It really makes you want to dance. If I ever get married, this is so on the dance playlist.
Listen to it if you haven't! It's by Bobby Darin, but personally, I like the Darren Romeo version better.
Some might argue that Artemis doesn't act like this. But remember, we've never seen him in this level of grief. I'm just thinking on the course that A) He doesn't experience regular human emotion like us B) He's pretty regretful at this point.
Any ways, this wasn't suppose to be so long. Then the flashback just came to me! So I put it in and was all "Now What?" Most every other chapter was planned out.
-Dania