One Man in his Time Plays Many Parts

"Butler, please take over the console." Artemis didn't await his friend's confirmation before he left the cockpit and Butler was left to look on with an expression of exasperation.

"Teenagers." He shook his head.

Artemis immediately regretted leaving the cockpit and not instead asking Butler to go. He now had to fake a smile and make polite conversation, meanwhile he was kept away from his investigations … but his searching had left a foul taste in his mouth now and he could not face Butler's disappointed silence any longer.

"Artemis," Katherina smiled. She wiped her eye quickly and that was all it took for Artemis to forget about himself. He lost the sullen frown and rushed over to her. He stayed her hand on her face, feeling suddenly so immature that he was completely wrapped up in juvenile arguments when someone over here, in a much less fortunate position than him, was experiencing genuine heartache.

"Is that a tear? Are you crying, Kathie?"

"Sorry, I'm just worrying, that's all."

"Of course you are," he continued to hold her hand and lowered himself in the seat opposite. "Your father is in a bad way, of course you're worried." He repeated himself and the words sunk in once more. He felt the fog in his mind fading and suddenly his priorities were clearer to him. It was such a petty argument - why was he acting so immaturely after being scolded by one of his friends?

"I don't usually cry," she said, still sniffing and rubbing at her eyes with her free hand frantically. She attempted a laugh.

"I don't suppose you do." Her hand was slightly cold, and he realised how much he must have grown over these past years. Her hand could not be much different in size to his mother's, yet his palm was able to wrap around it easily. Even when he was an early teenager, his mother would comment on his feminine, pristine pianist fingers. It seemed things had changed without him realising. He squeezed her hand. "I have a story to tell you, Kathie." Katherina looked up, having mostly composed herself again. She appeared genuinely curious. "It's about my own father. He went on an expedition in the Arctic, exporting Coca-Cola near Russian waters."

"I feel like the more I learn about your family, the more I will continue to be surprised," she laughed, lightly.

"Perhaps," he smiled as well but he wasn't entirely sure which part of the story so far had been unbelievable. "The ship ended up sinking with only a single survivor – my father. And when I say he survived, it was by a slim chance. He spent many hours in freezing temperatures and there was a significant delay before he was rescued."

"I feel like there is a slight spoiler to this story in that I have met your father and he is extremely lively."

"Lively, but missing a leg." Artemis nodded and Katherina's expression dropped.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise-,"

"I didn't take offence. You're right, he's almost a different man but as he would agree, a better one. He survived that ordeal. The doctors worked a miracle, and if they can restore a man from severe frostbite, I'm sure your father will be completely fine … Well, that was my intended moral of the story but I'm now not sure if it is as reassuring as I intended."

Katherina laughed again and Artemis felt his heart lighten. "Thanks for telling me. It has genuinely made me feel a little better."

"There won't be long until we touch down and you'll be with him in no time. And it will never matter what changes and what state your dad will be in – two legs or one – he'll still be your dad and he can still be happy. My father learned to adapt to his new leg and was back to causing trouble sooner than we would have liked."

"I appreciate that, Ar-," her words were muffled by the crack in her voice as her eyes threatened to cry again. She caught her breath and swallowed. "Artemis. Thanks."

"No problem." He felt his face warm. He tapped her hand reassuringly, then let go and leaned back in his chair. He folded his legs and cupped his face with one hand, simultaneously covering most of his expression. It was good timing that Butler pressed the seatbelt alert and an automatic voice (which had been programmed to sound like Holly) came over the tannoy announcing that they were close to landing. The voice reminded Artemis that he had an apology to make, and perhaps also a decision.

He should consider listening to his friends for once. There were no faeries dying, there was no Opal trying to destroy the world – just this once, perhaps he should leave the faeries to keep the banshee secret just that: a secret.

Well, at least as a compromise he would pretend not to know.

Artemis ventured back into the cockpit and found a surly looking bodyguard with hands like spades trying to daintily adjust the tiny buttons on the control panel. Artemis grasped his VR goggles from the side and took over the seat, taking a couple of seconds to allow the VR landing mode to initiate. This probably wasn't legal – he was essentially playing a video game whilst landing an aircraft, except the game just happened to coordinate the actual landing. He wasn't exactly sure what law he was breaking but was confident that if he was pulled over by the air police, he'd get a fine of some sort. However, the VR game was his latest side project and one Myles had assisted him on. Initially, that had him slightly concerned that his brother would swap important icons for images of asteroids and space dinosaurs, yet so far it appeared that his brother had taken this joint project unusually seriously. He did, however, note that there was a 'Beckett-mode' symbolised in the top corner by the letter B dressed in underwear. He dare not press this yet. Not when he had passengers. Possibly not ever.

His VR gloves buzzed to signal that they had synced to the computer, and an alert flashed up in his vision to signify that initiation was complete. The pitch-black world before him suddenly faded into a light blue and he could see a virtual representation of his aircraft before him, as well as virtual controls. Some may question the need for virtual controls when there were real ones before him, but this was the first step in Artemis producing a completely new way of piloting an aircraft. He hadn't had time yet to sync the movements of his fingers to new commands, so for now his real hands operated virtual controls.

He could see the virtual England filter through the clouds as they began to descend - a bright green of rolling farmers' fields, the grey strips of tarmac with the headlights of cars swimming up, the grey of Southampton a great city below. He glanced to the west and considered visiting their family home in New Forest – an excellent location. The house was an extended bungalow surrounded by woodland and often visited by the wild horses living there. He considered offering the house to Katerina to stay in, but knew the location was too far from her destination. Artemis followed the river with a slight twist of his wrists, a flurry of icons appearing as they descended even further. Some of these human destinations, most downloaded (without permission) from Foaley's faery computer app which one could pay a small subscription fee to have easy access to maps of every tourist location, magic hotspot, shuttle port and other useful information. Artemis had also overlaid Foaly's private and supposedly secure map, which showed less public but more interesting information.

"Interesting," Artemis commented as he quickly observed and memorised the icons popping up all over his screen. There was a grunt from Butler and the young adult decided to keep his comments to himself for now. He had tested his manservant's patience far too much today. "Butler, have you had an update on the car?"

"The valet moved it from Birmingham airport to Southampton. It has already arrived."

"Good. What about the cleaner, did she get round our London apartment?"

"Yes, it has already been done. The fridges are full. It hasn't been long since Angeline visited."

"That's why I wanted the cleaner to drop round; mother puts candles everywhere and they give me a headache."

"Candles clear, Artemis. They give me migraines, too. Not to mention the fire hazard."

The translucent airport icon flashed up, along with a suggested dotted flight path. As Artemis tapped his index finger three times on the virtual wheel, a request for landing was sent to the airport via pre-recorded AI radio transmission. In this transmission, Artemis' voice would give the aircraft details and call sign and would then respond with 95% accuracy to the responding transmission. The only time Artemis' AI-self had struggled to respond to incoming radio transmissions was when landing in Glasgow, but then Artemis found himself unable to understand either when switching to manual. In the top right-hand corner, his request flashed up in the air traffic control logs. Eventually, the flashing red text turned green and Artemis confirmed his flight path – his request had been granted, and now his estimated time of touch down (accurate to within 12 seconds) appeared.

"It still makes me uneasy that you're completely blind to the actual world with those goggles on," Butler commented.

"There are more sensors on this plane informing my goggles of the 'actual world' than one set of eyes in a cockpit could possibly envisage at once. In essence, my friend, I can see more virtually than I ever could without these 'goggles'."

"As usual, Artemis, you're probably right."

"Probably?" Artemis scoffed, indignantly. "How many years have you spent with me, old friend? Probably!"

"Enough to know you're not always right, but in this case, I'll assume you are."

"Probably!" Artemis mocked again, absolutely affronted by the nerve of his body guard – after all they had been through!

The landing was, of course, technically perfect. The subsequent thirty minutes of leaving the airport was Butler's least favourite part, and consequently Artemis', too. Butler believed that airports were what he called a 'red threat zone' – an area where the threat to Artemis, directly or indirectly, was highest. This was a mix of the likelihood of attack, the severity of attack and the lack of control Butler had in instigating preventative measures. He tailed Artemis closely, knowing that it always irritated the young man to have a shadow permanently behind and to the left of him. It was also the period of time where he was unable to carry weaponry. There was a weapons cache hidden with faery technology on the underside of the plane where Butler would leave his Glock, M4 Rifle, UGL attachment and assortment of knives. Then, once past airport control in their vehicle, he would be able to sigh in relief with the weight of a pistol on his right hip again.

"Butler, aren't you in casual clothing today? Surely tailing me like this draws more attention."

"You're a young man landing a private jet in the private area of the airport, tailed by a 6 ft old man with a long jacket that looks nothing like you. We're never the inconspicuous pair."

"As an outside eye, I would second that." Katherina said. "You're also somewhat of a celebrity, at least in Ireland. It wouldn't be unheard-of for someone to recognise you." Artemis glanced across, affronted that she would seemingly take Butler's side.

"Sometimes being conspicuous is a better defence." Butler added to his lecture, trying not to look pleased that there was someone with them who could bat off Artemis' daily gripes.

"Fine!" Artemis huffed, raising both his hands defensively. "I'll concede today!"

Their pre-arranged landing was met with a member of security staff who led them to the private airport security zone. They were searched both manually and by the walk-through scanner. Butler's 'walking stick', which was in fact a dart gun, was confiscated, as it always was, and Butler expected it to be. The security guard gave him a tired look and Butler shrugged. Every good bodyguard would push their luck at every opportunity – and every good security guard would know that. As they left to collect their luggage from the scanners, Artemis allowed himself a sarky remark as retribution for Butler's comments earlier.

"You'll have to get better that hiding that dart gun, Butler. They find it every time."

"They do. But they've never once found the knife on my forearm hidden by a skin graft and disguised as a metal plate following an 'operation on my forearm'." Once more, Artemis found himself struggling to prevent his bottom lip from protruding. Katherina swallowed a laugh with difficulty.

"We'll drop you off at the train station, Kathie." Artemis allowed her to enter the lift first and Butler, as was procedure for them in lifts, entered last to barricade the door with his huge torso. "There is a direct train from Southampton to Winchester. How will you get to the hospital from the station?"

"My Auntie will pick me up. Thank you, Artemis, for all you've done."

"No bother." Artemis coughed lightly, adjusting the strap of his watch and the collar of his shirt. "We were heading to England anyway. Butler likes arriving early to venues. Gives him time to do some reconnaissance on the location."

"I'm a single man doing the job of a whole bodyguarding team," Butler said. "Made all the worse by a Principal who likes to get into danger and dislikes taking any safety precautions."

"That's false on both counts, Dom. And Madame Ko would be turning in her grave if she heard you whining like that."

"I'm getting old now, Artemis. I'm allowed to moan a little."

"Of course you are, Old Friend. But you do sometimes need a little reality check. That knife hidden in your forearm wouldn't help you against a planned attacker at an airport. What are they attacking me with? A spoon?"

Their conversation was interrupted by Katherina's phone ringing and she answered hastily. The lift doors opened onto the basement floor where Artemis' car was kept amongst the hundreds of other Tesla's, Bentley's, Jaguar's and other luxury brands. Artemis led the way, trying not to look back at Katherina when her voice cracked as she replied to the caller. He reached the vehicle and opened the rear passenger door for her, to which she nodded in gratitude, clambering into the leather seat. Butler heaved their luggage into the rear of the vehicle then made his way round to the passenger side as Artemis had decided he wanted to drive. The first thing the young man did after starting the engines was opt for Myles Mode on the infotainment system, which Artemis pretended to his brothers was the more 'fun' mode but was actually code for silencing all of Artemis' added extra computers – which were, of course, faery technology.

The phone call didn't last more than a couple of minutes, but the atmosphere in the car made the silence drag. Artemis' tried to distract his mind through concentrating on the road, yet his mind kept wandering back to those long days he waited – prayed – for news of his father. And every minute there was no change in his disposition caused his chest to tighten a fraction more. He would regret every minute of his life he had wasted, hate himself for every time he had thought his father a fool. When his father had called for him and he had not wanted to return to his side, back then each of those moments returned to him and he found himself swallowed up by self-loathing. He tapped the steering wheel five times.

"Shite," he said out loud. Butler's eyes darted across in shock. It was not often that his Principal shocked him like this, however Artemis Fowl rarely swore. And even more rarely did he act so unguarded of his inner thoughts.

"What?" Butler immediately asked, feeling his senses tingling. His neck muscles tightened a fraction.

"No, nothing."

It was just in time that Katherina ended her phone call and let out a sigh. No change, she said. Her father still had no feeling in his lower legs – but at least he was conscious. He would be going in for surgery soon.

The manservant felt for her, truly, but spared not a fraction of his attention span on her predicament. Artemis Fowl the Second was hiding something.

AN - Yes it takes me six months to find the time to write 2,500 words. Don't judge and just drop a review to show me you're still there :'( haha.