A/N: Alright. I give in. I don't need your reviews to write. :P Take that!

Disclaimer: Grunt. Translation: I'm tired and I don't own Artemis Fowl.

Ireland

Trudy woke up on a tiny bed in a cinder block room. She blinked away the tiredness and looked around. One floor, one bed, her bass guitar, and one camera following her every move. Home sweet home.

Trudy bent and picked up her guitar. The camera followed. She set the guitar on the bed and stood up. Trudy glanced nervously at the camera and then yawned, stretching her arms wide.

"Hello?" She called. Her voiced seemed small.

The door swung open and a vampire walked through. Trudy looked up at him because she had always been short.

"Miss Spiro." The vampire stated.

"Yeah…"

"Welcome to Ireland."

"Um, are you a vampire?" Trudy asked, seeing his mismatched eyes, certain he was not human.

"Of course not, I am as human as you are." Artemis smiled, which made Trudy think even more of Dracula.

"That means you are doing something illegal here." Trudy frowned, "Cuz last time I checked, kidnapping was not legal anywhere."

Artemis nodded sadly. "The only way I'm afraid. I'm sorry if it seems rather rude."

"I'm fine with crime, grew up with it my whole life. Dad's in the crime biz, Uncle Jon too. I figured that I'd probably end up in the slammer myself someday. Can't stand kidnappers though." Trudy shrugged.

"I'd like to ask you a few questions, may I?" Artemis said politely.

"I'm no kid, don't talk to me like one. Besides, I don't think I've got much choice." Trudy glanced nervously at Butler, who was standing silently in the door frame.

"We looked through your wallet and found a few pictures that need identifying." Artemis held out a picture of five girls and raised a slender eyebrow.

"That's my band; the Blue Bloods." Trudy took the picture and pointed to various girls, identifying each, "That's me, that one is Mimi Kronski, Ellie Ricardo, Cheri Papaloan, and Grendel Silverton."

Artemis recognized several major crime lords' last names. What kind of friends does this girl have? Artemis asked himself. "And this picture?"

Trudy looked at it and shrugged. "My dad's sister Felicia."

Artemis looked at the picture again and saw a remarkable resemblance to Jon Spiro. He pulled out another photo that he knew didn't belong with the others. It was a small picture of a woman sitting by a bend in the stream, right next to an ancient oak tree.

Trudy scowled and grabbed at the photograph. "Give me that you jerk!"

Artemis let go. "Who is it?"

"My mom. Now get outta here!" Trudy shrieked and swung her guitar at him.

Butler's large palm stopped the blow from hitting Artemis. He took the instrument and set it gently down.

Artemis retreated out of the room followed by Butler.

Trudy sat on the bed and stared at the picture.

Artemis' Study, Fowl Manor

Artemis sat in his chair, head in hands. He was thinking of possible plans to find Nick.

Butler watched the security monitors next to his charge. He knew better than to interrupt the prodigy when he was planning but there was something Artemis was not telling him.

"Artemis? What is so special about that photo? Or that girl's mother?" The big body guard asked.

"I don't think it is her mother. I examined the photo closely for signs of photo doctoring but found none; I don't know how she did it." Artemis sighed.

Just then Holly entered, having been in the kitchen for a few hours eating what vegetables she could find. "Did what? Not all of us speak genius you know."

"I don't know how Trudy got ahold of that picture." Artemis rubbed his temple.

"Did you ever consider the fact that it was her picture?" Holly asked.

"Of course, it was my first thought on the matter. It could not be possible."

"Who is the picture of anyway?" Holly asked, munching on a carrot stick.

"Miss Spiro claims it is her mother, but that cannot be."

"Why not?" Butler asked.

"Because it is a picture of Nick's mother."

Motel Supreme, Outskirts of Chicago

Jason was not surviving well with the dirty motel. He had become accustomed to soft, goose down pillows, velvet blankets, and the world's most comfortable waterbed. Motel Supreme had hard, mouse dropping covered pillows, burlap blankets, and cotton balls on top of wood for beds.

Nick had seen worse places in his time as a criminal. Millard's, for example. The one time Clyde and Bonnie had stayed in a motel had been much worse than this one.

Jason spent most of his time crying over Trudy and other things that Nick didn't ask about. While Jason did this Nick monitored the news channel, looking for word of his escape from Millard's or a report about the Spiros disappearance. He did not find what he was looking for.

One day their motel phone received a call, a call from Ireland. Nick reluctantly answered.

"Hello, you've reached Motel Supreme. How may I help you?" Nick said, making his voice as deep as possible.

"Nicholas, you can't fool me. I've called about your cousin." Artemis said.

"You must have the wrong phone number sonny. This here is Motel Supreme." Nick lied.

"This also concerns your mother and uncle."

Nick glanced at his weeping uncle. Now was the time to make things right.

"What about them?" Nick switched to his normal voice.

"I need you to come to Ireland. Anyone could be monitoring this line." Artemis said.

"And then what? Captain Short will arrest Jason and I'll either be sent back to Millard's or forced to live in that tiny cell in your basement!" Nick defied.

"I can't talk. I'll send Butler in my jet tomorrow, get on the plane or the girl is going to be spending some time in Howler's Peek." Artemis bluffed.

"For what? She's no criminal."

"Assisting in murder. She played a hand in your mother's death you know." And with that Artemis hung up, feeling extremely guilty.

A/N: Review! Or else! I've got to go move my mouse cage to the warm side of my room, catch you later!