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Finn stared at his finger as well, then looked up at Artemis. "Daddy, what happened? Where did it go?" he asked, inspecting his finger but finding nothing but a little blood.
Artemis shook his head. "It's not possible," he muttered to himself. "They said he was fine, no magic, no pointed ears…"
He turned to Finn and quickly pushed the hair away from his ears. He couldn't believe his eyes. The boy's ears were tapering into little points. Since when? Artemis had never seen anything to lead him to believe that his son was part elf.
Finn twisted his head out of Artemis's stunned grasp and looked up at him. "Daddy, am I going to die?" His expression was so heart-wrenching that it snapped Artemis out of his stupor.
He shook his head vigorously. "No, no. Quite the opposite actually. You are completely healthy Finn."
"Then why do you look so funny?" Finn asked, scrunching up his nose in an adorable scowl. "You look like you just eated dirt."
Artemis laughed, trying to wipe the shock off his face. He must be composed for Finn's sake. "First of all Finn, it's 'ate'. Not eated. And don't worry about it right now, ok? How about I tell you a story?"
Finn brightened, forgetting his troubles. "Can you tell me the one about the fairies?"
Artemis sighed. He should have known that Finn would want to hear the story about the fairies. He'd told Finn about all of his adventures with Holly and Mulch and Root and Foaly, but he'd changed the names and made it sound like he'd read it out of a book. Finn had always liked those stories best, and now Artemis knew why.
But he nodded and sat on the sofa. Finn climbed onto his lap and watched Artemis with wide eyes and he began to recount the artic incident.
By the time Artemis finished the story, Finn was asleep. It was growing dark outside and Artemis could hear the summer-time crickets though the open window.
He carried Finn up to his room and tucked him into bed. He glanced once more at his son's slightly pointed ears, wondering briefly what he would do when other kids at school began to notice. Even though Artemis loved Finn immensely - more than he ever thought possible - it would have been easier for him and Finn if she had just kept him. But she couldn't. She'd tried to explain, but Artemis hadn't wanted to hear. He couldn't hear another empty excuse from her as to why she had to stay away from him. If she really cared, she would have found a way around it.
Artemis took one last look at a sleeping Finn, then went briskly down to the kitchen. It was empty; Butler and Juliet were on a short holiday and Artemis had to agree that they deserved it. However, Butler and Juliet were the only ones that didn't hold anything against him that had to do with Finn. He missed them.
No emotion, he reminded himself. He descended the stairs into the cellar, searching the wine racks for a bottle of scotch. He normally didn't drink, but today, he found no alternative.
He brought the bottle back up to the kitchen, grabbed a shot glass, then went up to his study. Artemis set the glass and the bottle on the desk and sat in his chair. His gaze swept over the desk until it rested on the fairy communicator. He hadn't worn the ring for four and a half years now, ever since she'd left him alone. It sat in plain view on the desk, collecting dust. And now…
Artemis shook his head, dispelling the disconcerting thoughts from the day. He didn't think that leaving the ring out in the open where he could see it was a good idea, but he'd never bothered to put it away. It wasn't as if he'd ever use it again…
A thought hit him full force. I could try. He could always try to contact her. But he didn't want to. He didn't want to be rejected again. He shook his head again.
"I will not try," he told himself out loud. No use entertaining false hopes.
Artemis cracked open the lid of the bottle and poured a little scotch into the glass. He let his thoughts muddle as he drank the liquor. He wouldn't think about her. He would try not to let Finn's magic bother him. He'd had magic once, from the time stream. An unfortunate loss that he uselessly spent it all on his mother. There was so much he could have done with a little magic. Instead, he was left with mismatched eyes and painful memories. A single tear escaped the careful wall Artemis had built around his emotions.
An hour and several more shots of scotch later, Artemis was asleep.
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