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Chapter Text

Prologue

"Where were you when the world collapsed?" Artemis Fowl hated that phrase, which became the unofficial rallying call for the slowly rebuilding society following the Great Techno-Crash. He hated it for its empty, implied romanticization of the world's first united, coordinated struggle in documented history. He hated it for the bleak inadequacy it held in even coming close to describing the traumatic experience that reverted humanity back to the 1940s in the blink of an eye. He hated it for the way it was thrown around casually - disdainfully, in his eyes - by hippie youths who apparently found it hip or cool or whatever bullshit adjective they used these days, trivializing an incident that ruptured families and communities all over the globe. Most of all, he hated it because he knew exactly where he was.

It was the day his heart shattered.

London. England.

The spontaneous combustion of most of humanity's telecommunications and seemingly near-complete aircraft casualty rate (for there was no way to communicate or index these incidents) made those unlucky enough to witness the dying screams of trapped passengers understandably wary of air travel. Even without the ability to tune into emergency government channels did many intuitively realize the inherent danger of sitting several thousand feet in the sky in naught but an electronic metal box. Planes weren't solely affected, of course; cars all over the world suddenly broke down, the simultaneous detonation of these...affected components sounding ominously like rapid gunfire. The lucky ones were left a coughing, sputtering engine; those whose spontaneous explosions came too close to the fuel tanks were vaporized before even having a chance to blink. This is nothing to say of ships whose navigational and communications systems suddenly filled with static, or of the various space stations whose living situations had become extremely hazardous. In short, human traffic effectively ground to a halt - and so, too, did humanity itself.

None of this pleased Artemis Fowl the First, desperately trying to locate anyone - anyone! - with transportation capable of bringing him and his wife to Ireland. He had been enjoying quite a lovely dinner in London with his wife, Angeline, discussing their firstborn - "Romance novels! Really?" "Under a pseudonym, of course, Timmy, otherwise the boys would never let him live it down" - when his phone exploded. There was little warning - he was suddenly aware of a searing heat emanating from his jacket pocket. Pulling out the device, his face had morphed from a confused frown into fearful shock in but a second, noticing the telltale signs of an expanding battery. Only his former criminal life, expecting a deal to end up guns blazing had saved him from serious injury; barely managing not to yelp, he had pushed back violently from the table, toppling the bottle of Sauvignon onto his wife's lap, before quickly tossing his mobile phone into the center of the room like a hand grenade.

Not a moment too soon, for the compromised walls of the lithium battery had suddenly began to gout jets of spewing fire, lasting for several seconds before the structural integrity failed completely, exploding in spectacular fashion. Around him, the screams and yelps of other customers informed him that similar things had happened around him; it seemed that more than one unlucky soul had had shrapnel enter their chests, by the way his neighbor was convulsing on the ground. Thankfully, Angeline's phone was already on the table, and it was a simple matter to follow suit and throw it onto the ground.

Artemis returned his mind to the present. The rest of the day up to just a few minutes prior would end up a technicolor blur of memory when he would later take the time to process it, but he and Angeline were presently trying to find any sort of transportation to Fowl Manor by the end of the day.

"There!" gasped Angeline, pointing at a barnhouse on the next hill. Poking out was a flat, white metallic object - a wing, Artemis noticed, the thought coaxing just a little more energy out of his tired legs. He glanced at his wife, clothes stained with wine, heels missing, and stockings ripped in several places. He knew without asking that Angeline's mind was directly solely at her children, currently alone in the mansion, with no way to contact them. She had to get back. They had to get back. By any means necessary.

Angeline staggered forward, Artemis shortly behind. The climb played hell with his missing leg, and every breath came with a sharp pain in his side, but damned if he wouldn't make the effort, not in the least for his family!

The sudden appearance of two well-dressed - disheveled, certainly, but well-dressed nonetheless - individuals startled the poor farmer into a standing position, glancing around for a weapon before his hands twitched towards a nearby rake. Angeline, replacing Artemis as head of the Fowl household now that her children's lives were potentially at risk, marched directly towards the man.

"We need your plane," the words ringing out like a command.

The farmer blinked. "You serious?" He gaped first at Angeline, then Artemis, then back, not sure how to respond.

Artemis allowed a moment to catch his breath. "Yes, very serious. Our family may be at risk, and as such we must quickly be home."

"But...but...you can't!" The farmer blanched. "Planes are falling out of the sky! Cars are exploding! And besides-"

Artemis cut him off. "I know. We know. But we have to. The battery in my phone just exploded, and as such we are without any method of communication. We have no idea what's happening, but we need to go. We need to try. Please-" Artemis quickly glanced at Angeline, giving a quick nod - "this is of the utmost importance. I'm sure you can understand." He pulled off his Rolex, Angeline fumbling with the clasp of her blue diamond necklace. Once upon a time it was her most prized possession, precisely the same as the eye color of the two Artemises in her life; now, she would gladly trade it to be with her sons, where she belonged.

The two Fowls thrust their hands at the farmer, who backed away out of fear of their determination or of how much money was suddenly being offered, he couldn't tell which.

"These items are worth far more than your plane," Artemis stated with clipped tones, anxiety showing in the tightened corners of his lips. "Sell them, keep them, it doesn't matter. We have to go. Please."

The farmer looked nervously between them, licking his lips nervously. "I-I can't. Look, I appreciate your offer, and your motivation, but it's dangerous out there, I can't just let you go in good conscience!"

Artemis dismissed the farmer's protests with an impatient wave of his hand. "Forget it. We will bear the risks. We need your plane. Please." He could feel the desperation creeping into his voice.

The farmer looked again at Angeline, noticing the distinctly bright eyes of someone holding back tears and the thin slash of determination that her mouth had become. He had bought the plane for quick hops around the English countryside, but recent events had understandably kept his feet firmly on the ground. But…

It was a lot of money - or monetary value - that the two Irish were offering him. And it's not like he couldn't understand their desperation, as old pangs of loss flashed through his chest. Particularly because of the implications - he thought it might have been a local event, or at worst a national event, but never did he even dream of global catastrophe. He closed his eyes and sighed inwardly, coming to a decision. "Ok. Ok! Fine. But it's your funeral, mate, I'm not having that weighing on my mind." He thrust his hand out, still with eyes shut. "Keys are on a hook by the workbench. You should have enough of a run behind the barn."

Artemis and Angeline gratefully placed their respective items into the farmer's hands, offering thanks as graciously as they could while still hurrying to the converted barn. Artemis located the keys, quickly acquainting himself with the small aircraft's controls, while Angeline found headsets for both of them. As he taxied to a fairly flat piece of land, she started wringing her hands nervously. Now that there was nothing to be done until reaching Irish airspace, she found herself unable to think of anything other than the worst: Artemis, dead. Myles, dead. Beckett, dead. Butler, dead. Juliet, dead. Artemis, Sr. could hear his wife start hyperventilating beside him. Giving her a quick squeeze (he wasn't willing to risk any less contact with a plane that may or may not fall out of the air), he muttered sweet nothings into the headset, offering empty optimism that he himself did not feel. A final glance at his wife before pulling back on the yoke, and the plane lumbered off towards the Irish coast.

The next hour passed in solemn silence, the only sounds being Angeline's occasional navigational utterances. With no electronic communications and no GPS, they were left with little more than a compass and a map. Flying over the Irish Sea was particularly stressful without air traffic control to guide them, but the returning images of burning wrecks and scared citizens were enough to further strengthen the resolve of the two Fowls to reach their family, driving everything else from their minds. As long as they maintained their heading they would run into some part of the Irish coast, and from there it would be relatively simple to find Fowl Manor.

"There," said Angeline, speaking for the first time in many minutes. She pointed at a tiny dot that Artemis could barely make out. "I think that's Wexford."

Artemis frowned. Wexford was some hundred, two hundred kilometers south of Dublin.

Angeline traced the Irish coast on her map, trying to compare it against what she saw outside of the cockpit. "I think so." It was difficult to tell with the city so close to the horizon. "I think I recognize some of the buildings from my last visit."

Artemis' frown deepened, then he shrugged slightly. "Alright," he responded, "I'm banking us north." Hopefully his wife was right; seeing the Irish coast quickened his pulse again, and they could not afford wasting any more time looking for the Manor.

Angeline bit her lip, unknowingly thinking along the same lines. Now that home was so close, it felt awful to be so far away. She had to get to her family. She had to know that they were okay. Otherwise…

She shuddered, blocking out the thought. It was too painful to bear.

Thankfully, Angeline appeared to be right, as the rolling hills eventually expanded into the familiar scenery of the outskirts of Dublin. The Fowl Manor had no airstrip, but Artemis knew that the property was large enough for a small aircraft to ditch. Besides, he thought privately, I can use the castle to stop our momentum. They likely wouldn't be needing the plane after today anyway.

With Fowl Manor in sight Angeline returned to wringing her hands in anxious impatience. With each new sight she felt her stomach drop just a little more. Smoking antennas. Swaths of upturned earth. A faint green mist that clung to the fields. Something had definitely happened here - something magical. Wherever there was magic, there were fairies - and where there were fairies, her son was not far behind.

She willed the plane to descend faster, willed everything to be okay. Bruised, battered, and broken, maybe, but okay. She found herself praying. Praying to what, or to whom, she didn't know - God, gods, the universe - but praying with all her might that she would find everyone alive and unharmed.

The plane touched down just a touch violently. Clearly Artemis, Sr. felt similarly to his wife. Neither of the plane's occupants really felt the jolt as he engaged the brakes, causing the aircraft to pitch dangerously towards the ground.

They were out before the plane had fully stopped, running awkwardly to the manor's front doors. Evidently whatever had happened in London had also happened here; the security panel was smoking and the sprinkler system had left the entrance sopping wet, ruining two 15th-century masterpieces.

Not that it mattered to the two Fowls, who instantly split up to look for the house's residents.

"Boys! Artemis!" called Artemis, Sr., frantically running from room to room, hallway to hallway. He was dimly aware of his wife mirroring his actions in a distant part of the house, barely registering the cracks in her voice.

"Butler! Juliet!" Not in the kitchen. Not in his study. Not in his son's study. Not in the bedrooms. Oh, where could they be? The manor was enormous - Artemis cursed himself and his ancestors. A big house and lots of land certainly made it more difficult to find anyone when electronic communication was not an option. Artemis could feel the panic creeping into the edges of his mind. He willed it away, struggling to keep his composure. There would be time for panic and emotional breakdowns later. Right now he had to find his family.

Several more excruciating minutes of searching passed before he ran into his wife in a second-storey bedroom. Her mascara was streaking, tears tracing lines down her cheeks. "I can't find them!" Her voice was high, shrill - close to shattering entirely. Artemis took her hands, squeezing them tightly, allowing the pain to focus them both. He went to the window, leaning against the glass. Could they be elsewhere? On the grounds? Maybe off? He wasn't sure. In the case of an emergency the manor doubled as a bunker. Hell, Artemis, Jr. knew this; he had, after all, been the target of a siege not ten years prior. So where could he be?

He pressed his hands together, pushing them tightly against his mouth. No Butlers, no Fowls, and no clue where to find them. He contemplated gathering the neighbors - what few they had - and forming a search party when he saw them.

His heart leapt into his throat. "Angeline." He beckoned urgently. "There. Near that field." Angeline followed his finger, letting out a sob at the sight. Butler's massive hulk. Juliet's blonde hair. The small figures of the twins. Even a childlike individual, with adult proportions - an elf, Artemis realized with a start - all in the grass. Beside him, Angeline had started weeping in relief. Truth be told, his knees felt equally weak, feeling the tension of the last several hours simply fade away.

Artemis stared at them for a while, feeling too grateful to God that his family was unharmed, and for the Butlers' rendered services. He would certainly have to discuss their next paycheck - If paychecks still even exist, he thought to himself - for the innumerable times they had protected his family from harm. He opened the window, gazing out into the field. From here he could see them better.

He frowned. They were all crouched in roughly a circular shape, backs hunched. What were they doing? He squinted at them in the distance, trying to ascertain what was happening. Is it a fairy ritual of some sort? Then, recalling his son's friendship with the fairies, Did that fairy help? Are they thanking her? Where's Artemis? It wasn't until he saw Juliet pull back, fist on her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks that he felt a cold hand grip his heart. He only managed to get two words out before rushing out of the room: "Angeline. Artemis."

In the months and years to come, neither Artemis nor Angeline would remember the entirety of the next hour. Only through months of therapy and discussion with each other and Butler would they be able to correctly sequence these events, and only through very careful emotional control.

For when Artemis and Angeline staggered over to the small group of - mourners, Artemis realized as his chest filled with dread - Angeline let out a keening wail when she saw what was in the center of their circle.

Enveloped in flowers, eyes closed and at peace, was their firstborn, Artemis Fowl II.

Artemis, Sr. blanched, the blood draining completely from his face. "No…" he whispered, reaching out a shaking hand to his son's face. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't! That's my son! he wanted to scream, dragging the Lord down to Earth, force him to face the reality that He had created. My son!

He frantically searched the gathered faces, desperately looking for a sign, a hope that no - no, this wasn't happening, that it was a cruel prank, that Artemis would sit up suddenly, laughing, or sharing one of his signature devious smiles. Artemis Fowl the Second, capable of anything, capable of outsmarting fairies and humans alike, the most astonishingly talented and wonderful young man that helped cast off the family's criminal history.

But nothing came. Juliet had turned away to hide her face, hugging the twins' crying faces to her stomach. The young elf was stroking Artemis, Jr.'s raven-black hair, gently whispering in an unknown language, cradling his cheek with an extraordinary gentleness. Angeline had been reduced to sobs, having collapsed onto the grass, clutching her son's arm, begging for him to wake up.

But it was Butler who drove the stake into his heart. Artemis turned to the faithful bodyguard, pleading with his eyes that what he was seeing was a trick, a hallucination. That he would blink and be sharing lunch with Angeline in London.

But instead he witnessed a tear fall from the man's face, and the slow shake of his head told him all that he needed to hear. The last thing he remembered before collapsing into grief was his heart shattering into a million pieces, robbing him of all the happiness in the world.

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: Condolences

Fowl Manor. Ireland.

Artemis' funeral was short. His parents had wanted it small, private, and intimate, and besides there was no way to inform the outside world of his passing anyway. As a result, only six were in attendance.

But, Holly Short thought to herself, looking around at the black clothing and solemn faces, these are the ones who matter. The last few days had been a blur. She and Angeline had spent the first few hours crying over Artemis' body, hugging and giving each other the strength to do what had to be done. There was no point in hiding herself; the entire family knew of her existence.

And besides! she thought angrily, Artemis deserves it! He saved us all! Her breath hitched at the thought of his name, feeling the tears start flowing again. Artemis, Sr. had yet to speak since his son's death. Three days prior, Holly had woken from fitful sleep to the sound of rhythmic impacts outside of her bedroom window. Looking out, she had seen him chopping down a tree. Normally against such barbaric acts against nature, she nevertheless understood human traditions, and somehow understood what Artemis was doing, and decided to help. It would never be enough to repay the sacrifice that her best friend - she choked again at the thought - had made, but it would be worth the effort. Besides, she was a woman of action, and if Artemis had to go then she damn well was going to have the last word!

Artemis, Sr. had merely looked up at the approaching elf and nodded, gesturing over the workstation. Though he knew little of her, something about her had told him of her intentions. Wordlessly, Holly had picked up an axe, struggling somewhat against its human proportions, and together they had slowly made their way through the great oak, Holly realizing with a pang its significance for her and the brave man she had gotten to know in the last decade.

Eventually, the oak fell, and man and elf took to the fallen tree, stripping the bark and carving out carefully dimensioned planks. Holly had relished in the work, enjoying every blister, splinter, and cut, refusing to heal each one, savoring the pain and effort. Artemis had saved their lives - she refused to let that gift go unthanked.

The work took the better part of two days. Neither Holly nor Artemis, Sr. stopped for long, pausing only for small amounts of food and sleep. Slowly, the wood came together. Holly's arms burned and her eyes stung, but she pressed on, sawing, painting, burning, and finishing the simple yet elegant box. Without proper treatment it would likely warp and decay after time, but Holly did not care - she wanted a hand in Artemis' final resting place, and besides, she thought with a sarcastic grin, not like we're able to go buy a casket.

For that was what the object was, a casket. Artemis, Sr. had come to the same conclusion, and had realized that his son needed rest. To be put into the ground without a casket was highly disrespectful, and his body did not deserve the desecration that was cremation. He had failed his son as a father; the least he could do now was this final gift.

Holly blinked, returning her thoughts to the present. Butler was nowhere to be seen, spending all of his day in the dojo. His refusal to accept Artemis as truly dead was admirable, but Holly was afraid that it would eventually take its toll on him. Mountain of a man as he was, he was still a man, and eventually the pressure would get to him. Holly only hoped that he found some way to confront it before his resolve wavered.

She approached the casket, caressing his cheek one last time, placing a trembling kiss on his forehead. His skin was freezing. Holly felt the dam in her chest filling up, about to burst. She bitterly fought it back; not that there was anything wrong with crying, of course, but she wanted to remember her farewell to him.

The coughing roar of a - jet? - engine attracted six heads. Holly squinted, looking for its source. How could anyone possibly be flying when all air travel was effectively grounded due to spontaneously combusting Koboi tech? It wasn't until that the unknown sound source crested the hill that she realized what it was.

A fairy shuttle limped through the air, trailing smoke. Holly winced at the sight. Evidently someone belowground had finally managed to cobble together working shuttles, if barely functioning. She supposed that one smoke-spewing environmental disaster was fine, given that most of humanity's own smoke-spewing environmental disasters were out of action, and besides there was no other way to make contact with the People.

She glanced over at the mourners gathered by, confusion and concern evident on their faces, before making a placating gesture and walking over to where the shuttle landed ("fell" might be a better term) on the rolling fields. The walkway creaked open, joints and pistons groaning and protesting, before revealing the Lower Elements Police's centaur technical specialist, Foaly.

"Holly!" It wasn't often for Foaly's horse half to come out, but the relief of seeing his closest friend alive caused him to prance around - literally. "You're alive!" He hugged her tightly, feeling that wonderful relaxant of relief fill his body. They stayed like this for several seconds before he pulled back, a giant smile on his face. The wave of crushing grief seemed to recede a little; she was glad that more of her friends had made it.

Something clanged inside the shuttle, causing Foaly to roll his eyes and head back inside, muttering, "I hope he hasn't broken anything, it's being held together by duct tape and prayers. Mulch!" he called more loudly, "get out here, Holly's alive!" From inside the shuttle came Mulch Diggums, holding a three-tier sandwich and one hand and licking the fingers of the other. "Hey, Holly, my favorite wild card, how are you?"

Holly gave a small smile. "Hey Foaly, hey Mulch." She tried to put some energy into her words but it just wasn't enough.

Mulch gave a cackle. "Aw, Short, aren't you glad to see me? C'mon, who died?" He chuckled to himself, not realizing the inappropriateness of his rhetorical question.

And just like that, the wave was back, she took three painful, shallow breaths as she endured it, allowed it to wash over her, before trusting her voice not to break. Somewhere, Foaly had returned without her noticing.

"...temis…" she whispered.

Mulch smiled quizzically, not catching on. "What?"

Holly took a steadying breath. "Artemis."

Mulch's smile faded slightly, his ears working but his brain refusing to make the connection. "What about Artemis?"

Holly threw her helmet to the ground, fixing Mulch and Foaly with a teary, fiery stare.

"Artemis! Artemis died! He-He's gone! Gone!"

With that, the dam broke, Holly sinking to her knees and sobbing uncontrollably. Foaly and Mulch were both paralyzed with shock, eyes wide. All of a sudden Mulch's sandwich didn't look so appetizing anymore.

Foaly was first to find his voice, bringing a shaking hand to his mouth.

"How?" he whispered, feeling his own dam start to fill.

Holly shook her head. "He died for us. He gave his life for us. For the People, for humanity, for everyone. He's gone," she whispered again. "Gone."

She glanced at Mulch, gesturing vaguely to the assembled. "Today is his funeral. His family's all there. Butler refuses to believe he's dead and won't come out of the dojo. You should go pay your respects."

Foaly looked at Mulch, mouth ajar and eyes still wide. The sandwich lay forgotten on the ground. He turned towards Holly again, nodding once. "Yeah. Er, yes. Yes, let's go. Come on, Mulch." He put a hand on the dwarf's shoulder. The touch and the sound of his name shook Mulch out of his stupor. He cleared his throat once and licked his lips, obviously trying not to cry. "Right, yes. Foaly, you're right, er...lead the way."

Holly remained where she was for a few minutes, observing the proceedings without really registering them. If the Fowls were surprised to see a centaur and a dwarf today, they didn't show it. Holly couldn't make out any words, but through her bleary eyes she saw Foaly shaking hands with Artemis, Sr., and saw Juliet hugging Mulch. There were probably condolences to be expressed, stories to be shared, thanks and farewells to be made, but she couldn't hear any of them, enveloped as she was in her own grief. The twins were sitting nearby, idly pulling grass and blankly looking out into the distance. Holly wasn't sure if the grief would traumatize them - she hoped they would eventually grow up to forget the pain, but remember their brother.

She felt another wave of sadness coming. Yes, remember the brother. The brother who gave his life so that they may live, so that they all may live. The brother who united two worlds, saving both of them multiple times along the way. Artemis Fowl II: criminal genius, kidnapper, and number one enemy to the People; Artemis Fowl II: loving son, doting brother, and best friend.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Whispers

It's very dark.

I turn. Or at least, I think I do. I can't feel anything. I only have the sensation of turning - the knowledge that I instructed my body (my body?) to turn, and that turning is my goal. I think I must have turned, because something feels different about the darkness.

Quiet.

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

It's very dark.

I'm tired. I want to sleep.

Sleep? Yes, sleep. It has been a very tiring day. Or should that be days? How long have I been here? How long have I been awake?

Awake? That's a new thought. What does it mean to be awake? Is being awake different from being asleep? Is there a distinction when all of my senses are...blank?

Blank. Huh. Huh? Since when do I ever utter something as uselessly useless as the word "huh"?

Uselessly useless? That is a ridiculous phrase. Silly. Impractical. Worthless. I sound like No. 1.

A red spark. A small flame. I see...Mars? No, that's silly...A moon? Preposterous. What's this about my fingers? Silver?

...who is No. 1? What is worthless? I...I can't remember. A...A friend? A friend. No...I would not forget my friends. Friends help each other. Friends remember each other. Worthless… I… Am I worthless? Am I worthless for forgetting?

No. Don't go. Please. I need the flame.

No. Please. I need the light. Please.

No! Come back! I need it! Don't leave me! I am not worthless! I am the greatest criminal mind in all of Ireland! Of the world! The world will remember my deeds, and for what I have done! Savior of the People (people? Or People?), master of time travel! I am Art-

...who?

Who am I?

It's very dark.

Quiet.

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

It's quiet.

WHERE AM I?

My mind...it buzzes.

WHERE THE FUCK AM I?

I shout.

I WHISPER.

Who am I?

WHO AM I?

I'm scared.

Scared? Scared.

It's very dark.

DARK.

Quiet!

...quiet.

I'm scared.

...ther.

...other…

...mother…

Mother. Mother?

What about Mother?

Sadness. Yes, sadness. I remember- I feel...sadness. Why am I sad? Why is Mother sad? Something about...the Arctic.

Brrrr...it's cold. Freezing. Take me back to my study.

What is a study?

It's too cold. So cold. I can't sleep here.

Sleep...yes...I am very tired. It has been...a long day…

…

…

…

…

NO!

No sleep. No time. No time. No sleep. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop time.

Stop time? Timestop?

No sleep in a time stop.

I know.

I know?

Yes, of course. For gold.

Always for gold. How did I get the gold?

How you got the gold. How I got the gold.

An elf.

An elf? An elf.

Holly.

A brown flame. No, not brown. Hazel. The flame is hazel. Is that blue? Very well. Hazel and blue. A hazel and blue flame.

Why hazel? Why blue? What is holly?

Holly.

So warm. And sad. I'm not scared anymore. It is quiet. But it is no longer cold.

And it is no longer dark.

Holly.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Executor

Haven City. One month later.

One month had passed since Artemis' funeral. The world - human and fairy alike - was slowly pulling itself back together. Holly, Foaly, and Mulch had returned to Haven City, mutedly staring out of the shuttle's cockpit and windows. Holly would have loved to stay - to give and receive comfort where comfort was due, to bask in her friend's greatness before letting him go forever. But she was an officer in the LEP, which meant that her grief had taken backseat to the grief of others.

Hundreds of fairies perished in the event. Not a lot for humans, but for fairies, whose numbers barely registered in the ten thousands, the Great Techno-Crash was an unmitigated catastrophe. This was, of course, not to mention the near-complete destruction of all of Haven City's power facilities and infrastructure; Holly's own apartment building was destroyed by a falling stalactite, and she found herself spending what little free time she had desperately sneaking what little sleep she could between 16-hour shifts.

Of course, there was also the matter of the clone.

When the aging shuttle had landed on that day last month, Holly found herself alone with Foaly at Police Plaza's Ops Booth. She remembered Artemis' last words to her, feeling the tingle of his lips on her forehead.

Give that to Foaly for me.

And so she did, after some deciphering on Foaly's part. The chrysalis, the kiss - Artemis intended to create a clone with the DNA on her forehead. Of course, the kiss was long gone - several days of showering will do that - but she had his hairs on her uniform, more than enough for what he (probably) had in mind. The next part, however, still confused Holly, even though she technically understood the science (or was it magic?) behind it. Kind of.

Despite his fairy eye, Artemis' soul was still mostly human. As a result, though his body was killed, his soul was not sucked through the Berserker Gate. It's possible, Foaly explained, that his humanity and his stubborn willpower would tether him to Earth for just a little longer - long enough, hopefully, to produce a clone for his soul to inhabit.

The implications had sent Holly reeling. She had thought about the illegality - the immorality - of it all, the ethics of cloning and of free will, and realized how much she didn't care. She wanted Artemis back - she wanted her best friend back, and if Foaly's interpretation was right he wanted to come back.

So on top of 16-hour LEP shifts, plus voluntary overtime work, and precious few hours of sleep, Holly found herself frequenting Foaly's...hidden less-than-legal lab, stuffed to the brim with shady tech and questionable specimens. One of these questionable specimens, of course, was the chrysalis used by Opal Koboi to create a complete clone of herself, and it was in this device that currently lay the equivalent of a three-year-old Artemis Fowl.

She found herself greatly disturbed by him - it? - especially because of - his, she decided - resemblance to Myles Fowl, who was already a spitting image of young Artemis himself. That is, if Myles were under a perpetual coma, hooked up to all sorts of tubes, wires, and monitors, and if he had the pale skin of one that had never seen sunlight.

She caught her reflection in the glass. Her mouth was a grim slash of determination. She couldn't remember the last time she had laughed, or even smiled. Then again, neither could she remember the last time she had cried - ok, she thought, I know the last time I cried but that's not the point - there simply was no time for emotions to butt in where there was a human to save and a city to rebuild.

Holly sighed, turning towards Foaly, whose head was in his hands. If anything, Foaly had it worse - Holly had the luxury of being able to tap out at least once a day, now that all LEP teams (even Internal Affairs!) were tasked with cleanup and reconstruction, but there was only one Foaly, and he appeared to be trying to cram in the equivalent of 28 hours in a single day with communications, travel, and an illegal clone to worry about. Thankfully, now that the clone had exited the fetus stage, it - he, Holly reminded herself - no longer required long stints of observation, and so provided the clone's alerts and monitors were activated Foaly could afford to snag a couple of hours of sleep in the cloning chamber.

Five more months, she thought to herself. The slower one grew a clone, the less chance of serious mutagenic issues or newly introduced "birth" defects. At the same time, there was no telling how long Artemis' soul could cling to the world, so reducing the time to grow such a clone was paramount. A six-month growth rate was the fastest Foaly was willing to risk.

Holly put a weary hand on Foaly's sleeping shoulder before heading back to Police Plaza, remembering the numerous codes and security features to engage on her way out. Cloning like this was highly illegal, not to mention unethical, and as a result discovery would certainly lead to immediate arrest and shutdown of the program, Mud Man savior or not. It certainly did not help that many financial records were destroyed, freezing the digital economy and leaving the program on the brink of collapse. In short, cloning Artemis was at risk of discovery and running out of money, in addition to the technical risks of growing a clone. Still, Holly convinced Foaly to push forward. She could live with a failed attempt more than she could not trying. Just barely, at least.

Holly lumbered in the direction of Police Plaza, trying desperately not to fall asleep until she at least got in the door. She passed by a burned out curry stand, catching her reflection again in the glass, noting the almost-purple bags underneath her eyes and the messy hair that now cascaded to her shoulders. Haircuts just seemed frivolous right now, and besides nobody had the time to really pay attention to that sort of detail when there were more pressing matters to attend to.

She groaned, continuing her trip downtown. Every now and then she would pass by some reminder of the incident - a refugee camp that ended up hosting a murder over food supplies, a collapsed building where she was forced to choose between two trapped victims, a hospital where all life support systems simultaneously failed due to exploding Koboi tech - her heart hardening with each glance. Haven City - the entirety of the Lower Elements - was dying, struggling to rebuild because of the selfish, psychotic whims of one Opal Koboi. All Kobois were dead now, and it was up to two fairies to ensure that the hero of that event came back to life with no support, no money, and nobody knowing. No pressure.

Holly staggered into the makeshift command center in front of Police Plaza, placing her Neutrino in her locker, before teetering into the next room.

"Holly Short?"

"Mmmmghyes?" She turned her head towards the source of her name, a pixie in a human-styled suit. Strange.

She glared daggers at him. Who was this presumptuous fairy interrupting her sleep?

"My name is Namos Leaven. I need you to come with me, please. I am here on behalf of the estate of one Artemis Fowl the Second."

Her heart lurched and she stumbled, only barely catching herself on the wall. Despite seeing a growing Fowl clone daily, despite telling herself that Artemis Fowl would not remain dead every night before bed, hearing his name was enough to send pangs of hurt and loss across her chest. It was several seconds before she recovered enough to respond.

"Ahem...what do you mean, on behalf of his estate?" The shock was enough to wake her up just a little, and she found herself narrowing her eyes somewhat suspiciously at the pixie in front of her.

The lawyer (for that's who he was) held out a hand towards an open side door. "Miss Short, please come with me. I am here to execute Mr. Fowl's last will and testament. You are one of the beneficiaries named. May we please find a more private space?" The hand beckoned a little more strongly.

Holly blinked away the sudden stinging in her eyes. Her? A beneficiary? What could Artemis have left her? She nodded mutely, following the pixie into the room, collapsing onto a folding chair. It took all her willpower not to pass out there and then.

Namos Leaven closed the door behind him, handing Holly a digipad. "Please follow along," he instructed. He cleared his throat and began to read. "The Last Will and Testament of Artemis Fowl the Second. Being the final wishes of Artemis Fowl in the event of his death at the hands of Opal Koboi…"

She had stopped listening to the lawyer pixie, thumbing ahead to where her name appeared. Her hands trembled as she read through the digipad in front of her. To my friend, Captain Holly Short of the Lower Elements Police, I leave thirty-seven solid gold bars that were the price of her release when I kidnapped her all those years ago. I know that I can never make up for that crime but hopefully you can think of me as a friend when you think of me.

She blinked back tears. Were it anyone else, any other time, and by any other means, the gold would have been a welcome addition to her average LEP salary. As it was, the items themselves were not of her focus.

...hopefully you can think of me as a friend when you think of me.

She smiled in spite of herself, a small crack in the armor that she had put up in the weeks since his death. "Insecure to the end, Mud Boy," she whispered. Despite the adventures they had together, despite the numerous times they had saved the fairy world together, he evidently felt unworthy of her friendship - of her attention - still carrying the guilt that stemmed to their first fateful meeting. She sighed inwardly. If only you knew.

"...ort? Hello?"

"Hm? Sorry, yes?" She looked up suddenly, forgetting about where she was and why she was there.

"Erm...as I was saying, Miss Short, if you would please press your thumb to the scanner-" he gestured to her digipad, the appropriate panel pulsing green - "and I will give you an account number with the means to access the gold." Holly pressed her thumb to the pad. Her tablet beeped just a second later, accepting the fingerprint, and suddenly, with a start, she realized she had the means to continue the cloning experiment. This information, more than anything else, sent a spike of energy through her body. All of a sudden sleep didn't seem that important tonight.

Namos Leaven was still speaking. "...and given that you no longer have, ah...permanent residence, we will hold your money for you. Everything is done by paper until we find some way to reboot the last fifty years' worth of monetary transactions, but until then you should still be able to make hard currency withdrawals. Do allow for some time before you head over to Haven Central Bank, because the lines there are abysmal at pretty much all times of day." He beckoned for Holly's personal communicator, holding his digipad to it and sending over the relevant information, and pulled out a physical HCB identification chip, handing it over. "Any questions?"

Holly shook her head silently, suddenly impatient to tell Foaly the news.

"Excellent!" Leaven stood up, Holly following. She shook hands with the executor, anxious to leave Police Plaza. It would be an exaggeration to say she was looking forward to the next several months, but at least she knew that the lab wouldn't run out of money.

Hang on, Artemis. Just hang on a little longer.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: Old Friends

The Lower Elements. Four months later.

"Holly! Defibrillator! Now! Left console!"

Holly woke in an instant, her soldier's training taking stock of the situation as she leapt to her feet, racing to the console in question. Foaly's lunch lay sprawled on the ground, evidently knocked over when he leapt over to the chrysalis.

Every monitor was beeping, fighting for attention with their own individual alerts and warnings. Holly chanced a look into the device, but what she saw turned her blood to ice.

The clone of Artemis was convulsing, and convulsing hard. Froth and spittle spewed everywhere around the tube in his mouth, and if it wasn't for the restraints he very likely would have broken something in the tremors. There even appeared to be tears forming at the corners of his eyes. Holly didn't have to know how to read the monitors to know that he was in pain.

"Holly!"

Foaly's urgent, panicked voice brought her out of her reverie. She rushed the device over, locking the images of Artemis' clone away for examination at another time.

Fairy defibrillators are not like human defibrillators. Where humans deliver a shock to the heart during fibrillation, fairies instead deliver a quick pulse of concentrated magic. As a result, fairy defibrillators are more consistent, and have a wider usage window than human ones.

Foaly was frantically unlocking the pod door, a pneumatic hiss snapping out as the air seal broke, while Holly started powering up the defibrillator. They worked quickly, knowing that seconds could mean the difference between life and death for the clone. Holly waited for Foaly to expose the clone's chest before removing his hands.

"Stay clear!"

Zap. A concentrated burst of magic flowed from the batteries and into the clone's body, looking to stabilize the electrical signals in his heart.

Foaly sat with his eyes glued to the EKG. A split second of normalcy when Holly hit the switch, but the fast, irregular heartbeat returned. "No good. Hit him again on my signal!"

Holly stood by, feeling the sweat trickle down onto her back. Foaly licked his lips furiously, running situations in his head and looking for the right time to hit.

"Now!"

"Stay clear!"

Zap. Another concentrated burst. Foaly's tail was swishing in agitation now, his back left hoof nervously tapping out a rhythm onto the polished floor. D'Arvit, Fowl, come on…

Again, no good. The heart rate was dangerously high, and dangerously irregular. If they were unable to stabilize it and the clone died, then they would have to start over, and there was no telling if Artemis' soul could hang on for that long.

"Come on, come ON." Holly hated not being in control. Her stomach was in her throat, and she was acutely aware of the way her hands were shaking. Illegal medicine was not her strong suit. Illegal surface shots, sure, but not illegal medicine.

Her eyes stung, whether from tears or sweat, she didn't know. She could feel it - she could feel Artemis being torn from her again, forcing her to relive the hell of losing her best friend. "Come on, Foaly," she begged, eyes imploring him for the signal. "Come on."

"Stand by…" Foaly raised a finger, waiting for the right moment. "Stand by….stand by…" He licked his lips again. "Now!"

Zap. Holly wasn't sure if Artemis could take anymore. The clone let out a low keening sound, akin to dying whales. She bit back a sob, angrily forcing the emotions down. They would probably return tenfold later in private, but right now they were getting in the way.

Foaly, for his part, was literally touching the computer screen with his nose, willing whatever god was out there to get Artemis' heart back under control. The last hit seemed to work, but there were still potential problems. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Holly with her hands on the paddles, ready to hit Artemis again.

190 BPM. Dangerously high heart rate, especially for a sleeping human male. Foaly waited with bated breath as the number dropped agonizingly slowly. 180...170...160...150...after two minutes of silence, the monitors stopped their insistent barking, the EKG showed normal levels, and Artemis' face cleared up. Foaly's shoulders sagged with relief. Without looking, he held up a weak thumbs-up.

Holly, for her part, let out a single sob, packing away the defibrillator, before heading over to the nearby couch, head in her hands as she processed just how close to disaster they were. Normally (for however normal clone genetics can be), the loss of a clone can simply be solved by starting the growth process over. However, with Artemis' soul on the line, the loss of his clone means the loss of his earthly vessel, and by extension losing the clone was effectively losing Artemis.

Holly took a shaky breath at the thought. Losing Artemis...again. Thank Frond it hadn't happened, but still…

She glanced over at Artemis' face, now thankfully clear from the pain. The face was that of Artemis at 14. He looked far more at peace than the original Artemis ever did, with his constant scheming and plotting.

That said, of course, this face was blank. The mind, empty. A human box with no soul. At peace he may have been, but Holly found herself greatly missing the spark that came with Artemis' sardonic replies, annoying though they were. She very much would rather have a Mud Man to punch in the shoulder than no Mud Man at all.

Foaly, for his part, was sulking at his ruined carrot salad. Not necessarily for dropping it, but for realizing how much of his appetite he had lost in just the last five minutes. He had considered Fowl to be a professional rival, but also a good friend. The task that Fowl had set him was daunting and stressful, but he owed it to him to try, if only to rub it in his face if it was successful - and besides, Foaly could never back away from a challenge.

He glanced at Holly, his other close friend. Of course, losing Fowl now meant Holly watching him die twice. He shuddered, having heard the story, imagining the pain of being restrained and watching someone he cared about willingly give their life for the greater good. Now, with a second chance, excruciating it had been, Holly still had hope that she would see him again. Crushing that hope would shatter her heart. Oh, Foaly had no doubts that she would remain an effective and respected officer in the LEP - not even the death of Commander Root had tanked her performance - but he knew she would just never be the same. It's one thing losing a friend to natural events; another thing entirely to have them ripped from one's life. No, failing Artemis would not just be losing him forever - it would also mean losing Holly forever.

Foaly clopped over, dropping one hand onto Holly's shoulder. She reached up and met it, holding it in place. They remained there silently for several minutes, digesting just how close they had come to losing Artemis before Holly broke the atmosphere.

"You know, he was afraid to call us friends."

Foaly blinked. "Call us friends?" he repeated. "Like, you and me?"

She shook her head. "No, I mean he was afraid to consider us friends. He didn't feel like he deserved it."

"Oh."

"Yeah. That's what..that's what he wrote to me, in his will. Asking me if I would think of him as a friend."

Foaly did not expect this. He felt a surge of affection for the intolerable, snide human boy. A seemingly small request, magnified only by the nature of the man who asked it, the man who scorned friendship for intellect and schemes. Just those few words betrayed the human's true, honest identity; a man who wronged, and knew he had wronged, and asked for forgiveness. Foaly found himself touched with Artemis' sincerity.

"I certainly do. Otherwise-" he snorted once, gesturing at the room that had, until recently, been an immense source of stress and anxiety - "there's no point to me being here, now is there?"

Holly rolled her eyes, punching Foaly in the shoulder lightly. "Oh c'mon, even if you hated his guts I bet you'd've done it just for the challenge."

He sniggered. "Yeah, right. It's highly unethical, what we're doing, y'know. I don't want to become the next Opal Koboi."

That earned him a raised eyebrow. "Uh huh. You'd have done it for me, though."

He pretended to consider it. "Hmmm….maybe for a few crates of carrots."

Holly dropped her jaw in mock horror. "You wouldn't have done it for free? After all we've been through? The times that I've -" she placed a hand on her chest in exaggerated fashion - "saved your bacon?"

Foaly snorted again. "Oh yeah? What about the times I've -" he placed a hand on his chest in equally exaggerated fashion - "saved yours, huh?"

They held each other's gaze for several seconds, each trying to look stern as long as they could, before collapsing into giggles. The tension from earlier melted (more or less), and Foaly and Holly sat in a relaxed silence, watching the clone.

Several minutes passed as they held their vigil, watching his breaths create tiny fog clouds on the ventilator. Holly wondered if clones could dream, and if they could, what they could possibly dream about. She was certain it beat reality. She would hate to be in such a vegetative state, incapable of any sort of bodily function outside the influence of life support.

Another few moments passed before Holly broke the silence again.

"What did he leave you?"

Foaly raised an eyebrow. "Hm? What makes you ask?"

She shrugged. "Nothing. Just curious."

"Hmmm. Well, he left me plans to a spaceship."

"Oh? That's kind, and right up your alley."

Foaly's mouth twitched up slightly at the corners.

"Oh, but it's Artemis. We have quite the rivalry, remember." The present-tense verb went unnoticed. "He hid the plans in my own archives. My own archives!"

Holly chuckled. "I'll bet he did. Based on your reaction, I'm assuming there was some convoluted way to unlock them?"

Foaly rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Of course. He had me blink a few times and say 'Artemis Fowl is smarter than I am'." That elicited a soft laugh.

"But wait," Foaly continued, "there's more. Of course, I didn't think Artemis could possibly create any sorts of plans better than my own, but that didn't stop me from being curious."

"Naturally."

"So I...eventually...decided to try it out, see what happened. Purely to humor him, of course."

"Of course. And?"

"And, well-" Foaly couldn't suppress a small laugh in spite of himself - "all I got was a video of him laughing, taunting me and a totally imagined superiority complex."

Holly laughed at this too. "Right, and of course we know you don't have one of those."

"Exactly. When I closed the video I was just a little vexed, but all in good fun, of course, except-" the smile faded a little - "I wouldn't ever be able to get him back for it. I was about to close the window when a file did actually open."

"And?"

Foaly actually gave a full smile. "And, I admit, the plans are extraordinary." He sighed wistfully. "Of course we don't have the means to follow through, and of course we, uh, have other priorities, but they're amazing, Holly. Amazing! A perfect blend of magic and technology. I ran them through a few simulations, and loathe as I am to admit it, even to myself, Fowl is right - they are better to anything we had now - or, before the incident."

Holly just nodded, impressed. It was certainly difficult to get Foaly to admit defeat in these sorts of cases, but it was clear that Fowl had touched both of their hearts. She let the silence between them settle for a minute or two before speaking up again.

"Y'know, I wonder if he didn't give me that gold so he could pay for this clone himself. Using me just to transport it and whatnot."

Foaly raised an eyebrow. "Devious. I'd say he wouldn't stoop down to that level, but this is Artemis Fowl we're talking about."

A smile. "Exactly my thoughts. I don't think he'd be that much of a jerk, to be honest, but it's still entertaining to think about."

A slow nod. "Yes. Yes, it is."

The clone seemed to stir, prompting Foaly to walk up and check the monitors. Holly sighed and looked at her chronometer, checking the date. Just one more month, Arty. Just one more month.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: Whispers, Part III

I do not know how long it has been since my death.

Death? My death? I do not know. I remember nothing. I know nothing. I see but glimpses of a life long past - a man in armor, fighting a hairy beast; a frigid submarine in the dead of night; freefalling out of a skyscraper - yet everything is detached. These images should mean something to me, but as quickly as I focus on them do they submerge themselves into me, becoming stubbornly protected behind some mental lock and key.

Perhaps it is to protect my willpower. The flame that has so given me hope in the last eons is fading. The more I focus on it, the more the edges blur, tantalizing me with its warmth and radiance. Yet its presence, though diminished over time, remains.

I wish for nothing more than a deep slumber. To be pulled away from the darkness, to achieve eternal rest. Have I earned it? I do not know. Yet still I resist, still I anchor myself with the flame. This peculiar, brown and blue flame. Something draws me to it - a memory, perhaps, tethering me here. Clearly it held sentimental meaning to me at some point in my - life? Perhaps not the apt word - but I cannot remember.

I try feeling sad, but it does not come. I try feeling elated, but it does not come. I feel...loss, perhaps. A twinge of regret. Yet there exists, too, acceptance. Contentment? No, not contentment. Perhaps nostalgia.

Evidently this flame holds power over me. Or perhaps I hold power here, through this flame. But why? What compels me to stay? To struggle, to remain awake? What about it is so powerful that I resist the call to sleep? Does this fire even hold power or is it something else entirely?

I cannot remember. It has been too long. I crave release. A savior, someone or something to free me from this void.

But I obstinately refuse sleep. I feel that it is not in my nature to change my mind. Thus my only release is to wake. To leave this place.

Where am I?

I can feel the fringes of my mind decaying. I am...tired. Soon my strength will fail. Soon I will succumb to sleep.

Will I have failed?

I do not know. I know not whether falling asleep is a failure. Perhaps two separate definitions of success.

…

…

…

…

I cannot see the flame. I feel its presence. I feel its warmth. But I cannot see it. Is it important that I see it? Yes? No?

If so, then why am I not afraid? Why do I still feel no urge to rest? Something compels me to stay. A word. A...feeling. Both?

Hol...Hol…

I cannot recall it. I cannot remember it.

Hol...Holl…

It escapes me. So seductively close, yet perpetually out of my reach. Why can I not remember?

The word...is special to me. I feel another pang of regret. To forget something so important must be so sad.

Yet the feeling remains. I do not remember the word, but I remember the feeling. It is still there. It still compels me to stay.

Hol…

…

…

The flame has gone out. But the heat remains. The feeling remains. The compulsion remains.

…

…

…

It is very dark.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: Zero Hour

The Lower Elements. One month later.

Foaly took a deep breath, stepping back from the console, while Holly instead stepped forward.

"Artemis," she whispered, putting her fingers gently against the glass. The clone had grown to the physical age that Artemis had been - and a little older - at his death. Save for some "minor technical glitches," as Foaly called them ("Look, having six toes on one foot is far better than total organ failure!"), the body inside of the chrysalis was the identical, spitting image of one semi-magical human that the two fairies had grown to know and love.

Foaly couldn't resist giving a nervous cackle. "It's time. I can't believe it. Six months of gruelling, tense as hell work, risking both our careers as we know them, and it's time." He paused to gulp, the giddiness merely masking the underlying uncertainty. "There's no time to waste. Every extra day, every extra minute we lose now is a minute that Artemis has to cling on to this world.

Holly merely nodded, forcing her pulse under control and taking stock of the situation. Earlier she had pulled some strings, requesting a newly rebuilt Recon shuttle for a "highly dangerous, top-secret" mission to the surface. That shuttle was, of course, located at the bottom of E1. Flying wouldn't be a problem; no, the hard part would be finding a way to lug what was essentially a life-supporting refrigerator halfway across Haven City without attracting attention.

Holly chewed on her bottom lip, thinking. Though looting and mobs had been somewhat curtailed since their rise shortly after the Great Techno-Crash, it was still dangerous to leave in the evening. The LEP uniforms and badges (not to mention the blasters) would probably deter all but the bravest (or dumbest), but the cargo they had tonight was particularly special, and if they lost it now Holly knew she might legitimately go psychotic, and that would cost Foaly two friends. No, they had to go fast and low, and make a beeline towards the shuttleport. Avoiding the gangs was a no-brainer, of course, but they likely also had to dodge LEP patrols, given the highly illegal nature of their goods. Belatedly, Holly wondered if she should have grabbed a Section 8 badge. The division might have been all but disbanded with Hybras' return, but badges that read TOP-SECRET CLEARANCE carried clout with police forces all over the world.

She sighed. No, the best plan was no plan: walk over to E1, taking the main roads, look like you know where you're going, and take no shit. Say that the stuff in the box is top-secret, for the Commander's eyes only. Yeah, that'll do. Good enough.

She glanced over at Foaly, who was busy packing up the chrysalis for travel, muttering as he went. "...ust about enough nutrition for another couple of hours, plus the power cells won't die until the next decade, and - oh, yeah, better take that, that could be important…"

After what seemed like eternity he finally turned, announcing, "We're ready to go. Three hours." That was not a lot of time to get to the shuttle port, get above ground, and...perform a resurrection...and Foaly knew it. Holly wasn't ready to give up, though. She couldn't. Six months had brought them here, and she would fight the whole fucking universe to see it through.

The sensation I felt has reduced to but a flicker. The flames are dead, their sensation is dying, and with it, so, too, crumbles my willpower. I can feel my mind fraying at the edges. The fatigue is affecting me.

For some reason, I feel repentant. For what, I do not know. To whom, I do not know. Merely that I feel that I have wronged someone, and that to leave without rectifying it would be most unjust.

Another pang of regret. It seems to be too late, for there is nobody else here. There never was.

It will soon be time to let go.

"Go," she hissed. "Go, go, go."

Amazingly, Holly and Foaly had reached E1's main plaza without major incident as the artificial sun began to rise. There was the odd growl and stare-off, but flashing the acorns or the gun certainly kept most of the rowdier fairies in line. One particular goblin wasn't too bright, still deciding to challenge the captain. He got a laser bolt between the eyes for his trouble. They were given a wide berth after that.

The trickier part would be getting to the shuttle itself. There really aren't many places to hide a shuttle, particularly if said shuttle's only path to the surface involved a single chute, and said chute had, by definition, only one entry and exit point. Holly knew she was cleared for takeoff, and she was mostly sure secret cargo would not be stopped and checked, especially with her credentials, but it never hurt to make sure. With nosy tunnel gangs she had no problem scorching a few eyebrows, but it was quite a bit different to the same to fellow LEP officers. She would very much rather remove them from the equation altogether than to have to deal with them, and so to that extent, she activated her communicator, sending a very short text message to a very specific recipient. Seconds later, a massive FUCK resounded from behind the shuttle station, shocking both police and civilians alike; Holly saw one sprite cover her son's ears, eyes wide with prudish concern.

Any fairy past their adolescence knew what the sound was, of course. It was the sound of a hundred of the same breed of swear toads being triggered at once, through very carefully placed cages and a precisely shot spark of magic. Common university pranks, they were nonetheless highly intrusive and certainly not proper for young fairies to hear.

At any rate, the FUCKs kept occurring at irregular intervals, eliciting grimaces from some of the more proper officers on duty, as well as those with young children. Several LEP officers left to investigate, which is when Holly and Foaly made their move.

Once the entrance was clear, they quickly made their way up the stairs, hugging the wall to the right. A sudden movement caught Holly's eye, and she yanked Foaly into a nearby maintenance closet, heart pounding. No sooner had the door closed did Commander Kelp himself walk by, grumbling about the disturbance. "A bunch of 30-year-old no-gooders, I bet. Goddamn funny, ha-ha. We'll see how funny it is getting yelled at in a holding cell."

The voice faded as he walked away. Holly let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "Come on," she whispered to Foaly. "Let's go."

The shuttle was in Bay 3, fueled and ready to go. Against the wall was a nervous, childlike silhouette, hopping from foot to foot, watching their approach.

"Doodah!" Holly called out to the pixie. "Thanks for the distraction!" She tossed over a bag of gold, grinning slightly at his stunned expression as she and Foaly boarded the shuttle. She felt like she could understand the Fowls a little better - it was quite nice having money.

It is very dark.

The last vestiges of whatever it was that bound me to where I am have faded. I no longer feel the warmth, the strength that coursed through me for eons. My mind is terrifyingly small confined. I feel claustrophobic. When the fraying reaches the last of my willpower, I will finally sleep.

But until then I remain. Some...unknown, unspoken promise. Sleep will only take me at the very end.

It is very dark.

"Are you saying Artemis is a ghost?" Butler turned, mouth agape to Holly. "Is he actually saying that Artemis is a ghost?"

Holly had broken several speed records - not to mention regulations - rushing up to the surface, parking the shuttle right in front of Butler's lodge. She and Foaly had leapt off of the shuttle before the loading ramp was fully down, quickly bringing a shocked Butler up to speed on the plan Artemis had left behind. The bodyguard knew, of course, that Artemis had indeed left behind a plan, but even a decade working with fairies had failed to prepare him for this.

Holly shrugged in response, focusing on pushing the hovercart with Artemis' clone to the field where he collapsed. "The Berserkers were ghosts for ten thousand years. That's how the spell worked. If they lasted that long, it's possible that Artemis held on for six months."

Butler opened and closed his mouth several times, looking like a fish out of water. A giant, mountainous fish out of water, but a fish nonetheless. Finally, he found his voice again. "Possible? That's all we've got?"

Foaly rubbed his hands together nervously. "Possible is being optimistic. I would say barely conceivable would be a better bet."

Holly fidgeted with the clasps on the chrysalis, trying to get them off. "Yes, well, the barely conceivable is Artemis Fowl's specialty."

Butler heaved off the lid, breath catching at the sight inside. Artemis' clone lay inside, breath fogging the ventilator.

"Artemis," he whispered. "It's him exactly."

Foaly stepped forward, nerves forcing out the words. "Almost. I had to play with the hothousing, unhooking the clone from its life support systems. And I didn't have access to my own lab, so he has six toes on his left foot now, but it's close enough for a backstreet job. He should also be 100% human with no fairy bits. I never thought I'd say it, but Opal Koboi made good tech."

"It's...He's fifteen now, right?"

Foaly checked the monitors again, looking for the smallest signs of any sort of problems. "Actually, the timing got away from me a little, so he's a little older. But don't worry, I gave him a total makeover. Skin shrink, bone scrape, marrow injections - I even lubed his brain. Believe me, his own mother wouldn't be able to tell the difference." He rubbed his hands. The moment was upon them. "Now, to work. Show me where Artemis died."

"Down there," said Holly, pointing. "By the to...wer…"

She let out a small sigh at the sight of the thick, spiralling roses on the field, centered at the precise point where Artemis had collapsed. "Oh…" A hand flew to her mouth, and she felt her chest swell up, basking in the sight.

Butler carried the clone in the chrysalis, thoughts simultaneously present and far away. Now that Artemis was so close, he couldn't help but be reminded of the adventures they had together.

Foaly was at his elbow. "Butler, you must place the body in the roses. At the center of the spiral. Without life support we only have minutes before degeneration begins."

Butler laid the clone gently inside the spiral, on a soft patch clear of thorns.

Holly unzipped the inner layer of the chrysalis. Inside, Artemis' new body lay in a hospital gown, its breaths shallow and labored, sweat sheening on its forehead. She wiped the sweat off, crooning softly. The desperation that she had pushed aside for the last six months bubbled up, now that the task of growing the clone was complete, and she found herself unable to stop a few tears.

Foaly moved quickly around the clone, taking notes and ensuring the clone's best health given the circumstances.

"These roses," he said, "are a sign. There's magical residue here. I would bet this formation is pretty much the same shape as Bruin Fadda's original rune."

Butler's eyebrows creased. "You're pinning your hopes on a flowerbed sprouting in the meadow?"

"No, of course not. Bruin Fadda's magic was powerful, and someone with Artemis' willpower could easily last a few months."

Butler closed his eyes, kneading his forehead. "What if this doesn't work, Holly? What if I let Artemis die?"

Holly heard the note of despair creep into his voice, understanding the denial he had been hiding behind for half a year. She put her hand on his enormous bicep, trying not to let the tears choke out her words. "It will work. It has to." She rubbed her eyes angrily, trying to recover some of her normal gung-ho. "Now, less talk and more resurrecting. How long do we have, Foaly?"

Foaly licked his lips. "Fifteen minutes or so."

Fifteen minutes. Holly wasn't sure which was more stressful: the six months of dangerous, half-tested science, or the fifteen minutes of wait-and-seeing. Beside her, Butler stood up.

"Very well. What should we do now?"

Holly shrugged helplessly. "Now, we wait."

Someone's coming.

I can feel it. Three strong presences, and one...one more.

All are familiar. All are friendly. All make my heart ache.

My heart? Do I have a heart?

...Yes. I have a heart. I have a brain. I can see. I can hear. I can touch, smell, taste. I can think and I can feel.

The oppressive blackness is lightening. A portal to Earth opens up below me. I barely register the returned novelty that is discernible direction.

I see them. A massive, hulking one. A quadruped. An empty body that must be my own. And…

She turns, facing the sky.

Holly.

Her name feels sweet on my mouth. I do not remember her, but I know her. I will know her. Her eyes...blue and hazel. Hazel and blue.

My flame. My fire. She tethered me.

Magic pulls me to the earth.

It is time to go home.

Something in the air shifted.

The trio noticed it immediately. Holly could suddenly smell the roses, stumbling to her feet. "Something's happening. I think something's happening." She felt the first trickles of cautious optimism filling her chest, each drop like golden ambrosia in what had until now been a pit of sorrow.

The breeze scooped a few rose petals from the flowers and sent them spinning skyward. More and more petals broke free as the wind traced the orange spiral, quickly gaining momentum. The petals rose like butterflies, filling the sky, filtering out the sun.

"Artemis!" Butler called. "Artemis! Come to my voice!"

Has he done it? Is this Artemis Fowl's greatest moment?

The petals swirled with a noise like a chorus of sighs, then the wind suddenly stopped and they cascaded gently down to earth.

Holly moved forward to the clone, lightly brushing off the fallen petals.

She clasped one of the hands. "Artemis," she whispered. "Artemis, please."

A moment. Then two. The clone's breaths ceased, and for a horrifying moment Holly felt her stomach drop out through her toes.

Artemis' eyes shot open, both a startling blue. He heaved breaths, coughing violently, entire body trembling.

Holly put firm hands on his shoulders, looking directly into his eyes. "Be calm," she said. "Be calm. It's okay. You are safe now."

Artemis' breaths came more evenly, and his eyes slid into focus. Butler and Foaly waited with bated breath.

Holly knelt closer, face inches from his. "Do you...know who I am?"

Artemis fixed his eyes on hers. A spark in his eye as recognition dawned, and as memories came flooding back; memories of kidnappers, goblins, trolls, and blasters. Blue and hazel. Hazel and blue. Of course he knew who she was.

The gentlest smile that she had ever seen. A shaking hand to caress her cheek. "...Holly…"

And she wept, feeling her heart expand, knowing that all was right in the world.

Chapter Text

Epilogue

Fowl Manor. Ireland.

Artemis Fowl, Sr., could count on one hand the number of times he had cried in his entire life. Raised to be stoic in the face of various national mob families by his own father, he found emotion to be a pointless distraction in expanding the Fowl empire - a weakness to hide, to cover in the concrete of masculine strength.

Which is why he broke down into a blubbering, snivelling, sobbing mess upon seeing his recently deceased firstborn unsteadily approaching the manor on Foaly's back, flanked by Butler and Holly. The calloused shell that he had unconsciously been building around his heart suddenly vaporized, and though overcast he felt the sun more strongly than ever in the last six months.

Of course, Artemis, Sr. was but one member in a teary reunion. Not a single dry eye was to be seen in the Fowl household on this day, not with the triumphant if fantastical return of the heir to the family fortune. For the first time in six months, there was laughter and joy within the walls of the manor. The Fowls found little reason to not be in the same room together, leaving only to feed or administer medicine for Artemis, Jr. There were of course, several things wrong - malnutrition, complete lack of fine motor control, a chemical dependency on several steroids, to name a few - but all present agreed that this was better to the alternative. Both Artemises - normally avid listeners to the great Mahler symphonies - found little to complain even when Juliet played some "trashy punk" (Holly's words) through her gel speakers, making a huge mock deal (through teary eyes, of course) about refusing to return them, despite technically rendering his will null and void ("Actually," he had said in response, deliberately ignoring the groan this elicited from Holly, "it is only null and void had I survived, not had I been alive."). Whatever plans the Fowls and Butlers had had that day were summarily ignored in light of this miracle, and the younger Artemis found no reason to retire from the company of his friends and family.

Eventually, the day grew long, and Artemis' weakened body was in no state to push past its limits. Butler carried him gently up the stairs to a guest room (his room had been left untouched in six months and therefore required a fair amount of dusting), Holly close behind. Foaly had left surreptitiously earlier in the day; he was, after all, still the technical expert behind the LEP.

Soon, Artemis found himself propped up on several pillows, gazing out at the moon. Nothing could bother him on this day - not the withered limbs, or the constant nausea, or the extra toe - not when he had finally been released from his own personal limbo. He frowned slightly. As one might expect, the events far beyond conscious comprehension he experienced disturbed him greatly. He expected to have many months of nightmares and strange dreams. He shuddered at the constant threat of despair, of how close he came to giving in.

But then looking over, the ordeal was worth it (Well, he thought with a wry smile, almost). Holly sat by his side, fingers intertwined with his. Somehow they had remained in physical contact for almost the entirety of the last several hours. She basked thoroughly in his touch; little did she know that he was doing the same.

It was several minutes before he broke the silence. "You tethered me, Holly."

"What?"

He turned slowly, wary even of this simple movement. "I wanted to sleep. My consciousness existed - and even then, I cannot say that it truly did - in a void. Time was meaningless. You saved me."

She blinked in response to that. "I saved you?" she repeated, voice soft.

Artemis nodded. "My connection with you saved me. I believe it was partly how much you wanted me back-" that elicited a small blush from Holly - "but also of how much I wanted to come back."

Artemis shifted slightly, eyes glazing slightly as he tried to recall the events that transpired - or didn't. "My only companion in the void was a blue and hazel flame."

Holly listened, eyes wide. She mouthed the words, blue and hazel, unconsciously reaching towards her eyes.

"As my willpower decreased so, too, did its warmth, but it was not until close to the end that its power faded away completely. I am very lucky to have you as a f-friend." His voice caught on the last word, which he attempted to mask by clearing his throat, before continuing. "You are...my closest companion. Bonded through trauma, adventure, and more than a little bit of Stockholm Syndrome-" gentle laughs from both of them - "and I would be honored to call you a friend." His gaze was sincere, earnest. The intonation and somewhat formal prose definitely made this Artemis, but he was gentler somehow. Holly smiled inwardly. She supposed being dead did that to a person.

She shook her head, noticing with mild sadistic pleasure the way the corners of his mouth dropped slightly. She thought long and hard about the previous six months - about the way that his death had gouged out chunks of her heart, and how she now realized how intertwined their lives were. She thought about the years they had known each other, the plots and schemes that they had stopped together. She thought about that one fateful day in the past, and the immensely annoying character that was Orion. She thought about what to say to Artemis, and realized she wasn't satisfied with friends.

She approached him, kneeling on the bed, taking care not to put any pressure on his legs, releasing his hand, using both of her own to cradle his head. She had the pleasure of watching his eyes go wide, understanding what they saw but not registering, before closing her own and pressing gently into his lips.

She was very satisfied to notice that it took Artemis' fried brain several seconds to respond before he pulled her in by the waist and chin, ignoring the tremors and weak grip, savoring the moment.

After what simultaneously seemed like eternity and an instant did they finally pull away, both flushed, both breathing hard. Holly smirked a little. "Not friends."

Artemis gave a weak chuckle, sinking back into the pillows. "Not friends," he agreed.

Then they locked eyes, realizing the implications of this new development.

"Oh no." Artemis merely laughed.