Work Text:
“He’s powering up,” said Foaly from the screens. “You’ll be off any second. Remember, try not to touch anything you don’t have to. Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t contact me in the past. I have no desire not to exist.”
Artemis nodded. “I know. Make as little impact as possible, in case the time paradox theory has some merit.”
It was No. 1’s turn to nod. “I’m tethering you both to Artemis’s memories of this time. So don’t do anything that would change his memories. Or at least, anything that would stop you changing it back.”
Holly sighed. “Enough science. Just blast us into the past. We’ll bring the monkey back.”
“Lemur,” said Artemis and Foaly together.
No. 1 closed his eyes. When he opened them again they glowed crimson.
“Okay, ready to go,” he said, voice almost chirping.
Artemis blinked. He was expecting a rather different voice of power. A bit less squeaky, at least. “Are you sure?”
No1 groaned. “I know. It’s the voice, isn’t it? Not enough gravel. Qwan says I should go for less airy and more fairy. Trust me, I’m ready. Now hold hands.”
Artemis and Holly stood there clad only in underwear, gingerly locking fingers. They had crossed space and time together once before, put down rebellions, and tangled with despots. Coughed blood, lost digits, inhaled dwarf…gas, and swapped eyes, yet holding hands was apparently too awkward.
No1 knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t resist.
“I now pronounce you . . .”
Neither hand-holder was amused, but before they could do more than scowl, red energy crackled from No1’s eyes, blasting his friends into the time stream.
“Man and elf,” he said, finishing his joke, then chuckling.
On screen, Foaly snorted. “I’m guessing you’re laughing to cover your anxiety?”
“Exactly right,” said No. 1.
Artemis and Holly were but flickering copies of themselves, mouths open to object to No. 1’s comment.
“That really freaks me out, the ghost images. It’s like they’re dead.”
Foaly shuddered. “Don’t say that. If they’re dead, we all could be. How soon will they be back?”
“In about ten seconds.”
“And if they’re not back in ten seconds?”
“Then never.”
Foaly started counting.
***
Both Fowl and fairy arrived in the past shaken and stirred.
Holly was crying. She’d spent the past ten minutes reliving her mother’s final days.
Artemis was, too. His mind had just hung up from the phone call. The Fowl Star lost with all hands near the Kola peninsula.
The grandfather clock’s chiming returned both of them to the past present that was now their immediate future.
Holly looked at Artemis, and the sight of him stumbling to the wardrobe brought a coy smile to her face.
“You have really let yourself go,” she said.
Artemis stopped rummaging through the clothes. Forced himself to look back at her. My God , he thought, staring at Holly’s distorted image through running tears. What have I done?
Eventually she noticed the nature of his gaze. “What?”
“Holly, I – I’m so sorry, I –”
“Artemis,” she breathed, and he recoiled at his name. “What’s the matter?” She had just cried over her mother. Perhaps Artemis remembered his abduction of her?
“I lied,” he blurted. “As I always do. As it is, apparently, my nature to do. You didn’t –”
“…didn’t?” The care in her gaze slowly gave way to confusion.
“It was me! I infected Mother!”
“You WHAT?”
Before Artemis could respond, the door burst open. There was a gun, a flash, a deafening thunderclap, a spray of red, and Holly lay dead before him, a clean hole in the center of her forehead, mismatched eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.
In the background, the bell-like clink of a brass casing bouncing against hardwood, and behind the gun’s sights, the cold, blue eyes of a mountainous man, familiar and yet not. Artemis stared down the barrel of his oldest friend’s oldest friend. “Butler, n—” A flash, and then –
***
Both Fowl and fairy arrived in the past shaken and stirred.
Holly was crying. She’d spent the past ten minutes reliving her mother’s final days.
Artemis was, too. Without a word or a thought, he wrapped his arms around Holly’s slim frame. And held her tightly.
“Uh—” Holly tried to squirm her way out of Artemis’s grasp, to no avail. Finally, she gave up, and returned the gesture. “Hey, it’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re okay. I’m okay. We’re just eight years in the past, that’s all.” The grandfather clock chimed.
Artemis froze. She doesn’t remember. Why doesn’t she remember? And then: perhaps it’s for the best she doesn’t remember death. Again. He let her go. “Yes. Apologies. A…a lapse in self-restraint.”
Now Holly was very concerned. “Artemis?” Confusion gave way to suspicion. “There’s something going on. Spit it out.”
He waved her away. “Nothing to worry about.”
Holly was unimpressed. “If you say so, old man.”
“ Old man? ” Artemis exclaimed in hushed tones. Holly pointed wordlessly at the wardrobe mirror. He stared into it. Felt and saw the stubble on his chin, the long hair. Glanced back at Holly, smiled coyly. “If you say so, little girl.”
“I—what—” She elbowed him away, met her own gaze. No, not quite. Her own gaze from about twenty years ago, but for the mismatched eyes. She felt her right cheekbone, searching for a scar that was no longer there. “I’m…young. Younger…” She half-stepped, half-staggered away from the mirror.
But Artemis was no longer paying attention. Holly had just died, before his eyes. And so had he, both of them at Butler’s hands. He remembered, vividly, the hole Butler’s traditional Teflon-coated load had made in her skull. The way her blood had – he forced himself to look at the wall. Dark tan. As it should be, yet not as it was a moment ago. How?
“Artemis…” Holly called softly, voice dragging on each syllable. When that didn’t work, she flicked him. “Artemis!” she hissed.
“Hm? Oh, yes, here.” He handed her a small suit, pulling off the polyurethane protective cover. “We should get dressed. To avoid suspicion.”
“Uh huh,” Holly murmured, buttoning up the suit’s white dress shirt.
Artemis selected a tracksuit meant for charity, something he’d normally never be caught dead in. Desperate times.
“How’d you find this point in time, anyway?” she asked, slipping her legs into the pants.
“Tonight was the first night Mother didn’t recognise me.” Holly cocked her head, and her ear caught a shrill shriek. One not typically associated with sanity.
“So you remember tonight, then,” Holly said darkly. It was more a statement than a question.
“Quite well.”
Holly shifted uncomfortably. “And Butler never comes in here?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“He stays outside. I saw it with my own eyes.”
“Saw what with your own eyes?” asked Butler, who had appeared in the archway behind them. Artemis’s lips went thin as a knife edge. The adjoining bedroom door. “You two kids have been helping yourselves to the Fowl wardrobe, I see.”
Holly cracked her neck. “Stand down, human,” she intoned, voice resonating with the bass of the mesmer .
“What? How did you…” The mountain man staggered back.
“Sleep, Butler,” Holly said, voice lulling him. The mesmer was working, but not fast enough. Butler was reaching into his pocket. “Sleep, Butler…aren’t your eyelids heavy? Sleep…” Holly did not have to pretend to the care and love in her voice.
“You sleep,” Butler mumbled. Suddenly Artemis noticed the tranquiliser gun in the bodyguard’s hand. Too late. The fwish of the airgun spawned a hypodermic dart in Holly’s leg.
“Not again…” she moaned, then collapsed in a heap. Artemis swallowed hard. This was better than the Sig. But it still wasn’t good.
Artemis had only moments to convince Butler that he was a friend, and precious little evidence of that fact. “Listen, Butler, I have something to tell you –”
“Nonono, no more talking from either of you.”
Artemis stared in shock at the dart that had appeared in his shoulder. “Butler! You shot me!” Then he, too, collapsed in a heap.
***
“Maybe we should give up and return home,” Holly whispered in Gnommish. “You could make a cure in our time.”
“You’re sure there’s no way out?” Artemis, too, spoke in the fairy tongue. Just in case of bugs.
“Yes. Everything’s perfect in here.”
“Of course. It would be.” Artemis slammed a bloodied fist against the Bentley’s trunk. A pointless gesture. Flesh and bone was little match for titanium and steel.
“Hey!” she exclaimed. “They might not know we’re awake!”
“Does it really matter?” Artemis countered. Then he had an idea. “What if someone else got us out?”
“No, not even Mulch Diggums, not even if he was here.” Just then, a knocking noise. “Artemis.” Holly stared daggers at her closest friend. “Explain.”
“What happens next is our future, yes?”
“Sure.”
“It’s also my past.”
“Right.”
“I don’t remember ever capturing anyone on this night. Which means, if we’re here, and my memories say we shouldn’t be, then I was mind-wiped and my brain filled in the blanks.” Like No. 1 said, Artemis thought, don’t do anything that would stop us changing it back .
Holly’s head was already starting to hurt. “Right, okay, get to the part where –” she jerked her thumb at the trunk.
“If I was mind-wiped, my memory of this time is wrong, which means that, because the time travel was tethered to me, as long as what happens here ends in me being mind-wiped, any series of events is possible, and if any series of events is possible, then as long as that chain of events can be started, even by something which we haven’t experienced yet—” The trunk burst open, and Mulch Diggums stared down at them, chowing down on a ground beetle.
“Ground beetle, Leistus montanus . Nice bouquet, solid earthy shell; then once the carapace cracks, a veritable explosion of flavors on the palate.” He burped.
***
The gorilla slammed into Artemis. Then slammed him into the ground. Picked him up, stared him in the eye. Artemis coughed up blood, right in the primate’s face.
This did little to endear him to the two-hundred kilo animal, which threw him down and rubbed at its eye. He was vaguely aware of Holly rushing toward him, but much more aware of the noise she made when the gorilla slapped her aside, sending her flying into a concrete wall. Even more aware of the way her broken body crawled towards him, and of the hand that flopped onto his chest, which itself sent pangs of pain through his body.
Most aware of the singular, rattly word that escaped her mouth. Heal . And then the sparks of magic that flowed through him, that knit his bones back together.
Artemis returned to his senses. Mulch was hooting and roaring, drawing the gorilla’s attention away. He wanted his payday. Artemis shrugged Holly’s hand off, and was stunned at how limp it was. A pit formed in his stomach as he rolled her over.
“Not again,” he whispered, pleading, praying. Her eyes were barely open. Her breathing, if it could even be described as that, came in spurts and gasps. Still, she managed to raise a hand to touch his cheek.
“B-be…well…” Her slim fingers fell away from his face, and she was gone. Again. Succumbing to his impulses, Artemis punched the ground, and it drew blood from his knuckles. Twice he had now watched this poor elf, who he’d tricked into coming along, die.
He didn’t deserve to win this one.
He threw himself at the gorilla, and it moved, almost a whole centimeter. It threw him to the ground, and brought its massive foot down on his head, and—
Both Fowl and fairy arrived in the past shaken and stirred.
Holly was crying. Artemis was confused. Again he was being given another chance. Why?
“This makes no sense,” Artemis breathed, backing away from Holly and toward the bedroom door.
“Artemis, what are you—come back here!” Holly chased after him.
Artemis opened the door, backed out into the hallway, and realised his mistake when he saw the gun barrel poking out of the shadows. A flash.
Both Fowl and fairy arrived in the past shaken and stirred.
Holly was crying, but Artemis shook her out of it. “Wish us back, now.” He had to test his theory.
“What—but, Artemis, we just got here!”
“Trust me!”
Holly was perplexed, but did as she was asked. The time stream opened, and they both stepped into it. They travelled and travelled, and ten minutes later, popped out in the present.
“They’re b—”
Artemis blacked out, and when he came to, he picked himself up off the wooden floor, glanced around, and saw that Holly was crying. Oh no . “Holly, do you remember?”
“R-remember what?” Holly swallowed her tears.
“What’s the last thing you remember doing?”
“…uh…stepping into a time stream with…with you.”
Artemis sighed, frustrated. “Now or in the future?”
“Uh, the future? Artemis, we just got here.” She stared at him. “Didn’t we?”
Suddenly the reality crystallised from the fragments he had deduced thus far in Artemis’s head. If he died or returned without Artemis junior being mind-wiped, it created a paradox. A paradox which could not continue to exist, and so the day reset to rectify it.
“Yes,” Artemis finally answered Holly. “I apologise.”
***
The gorilla slammed into Artemis. Then slammed him into the ground. Picked him up, stared him in the eye. Artemis turned away, coughed blood onto the ground. From here he drifted in and out of consciousness. He didn’t mind this. If he did nothing and it worked, it made this part easy.
Artemis was vaguely aware of hooting and raving, and then of the cold hard earth at his back. Then of Holly skidding to his side, and that whispered word, “heal.” No rattle this time.
And then of her kissing him.
***
Artemis stared up at the electrical pylon, steeling himself. At the thought, he almost laughed. Steel is conductive. Perhaps that’s why I keep electrocuting myself.
He wondered if it was healthy to laugh about one’s own painful deaths.
He was twenty feet away from the pylon when Artemis junior noticed him.
“I advise you to stay where you are, young man. If that suit has the tiniest rip, then one slip and—”
“---and those cables will liquefy my skin and melt my bones,” Artemis the elder groaned. At least thirty times he’d heard this, and he wasn’t sure for a moment if the obnoxiousness of his younger self or the millimetres-away electrocution would be more painful.
And then he lost his tenuous balance, the millimetres-away electrocution became nanometres-away, and then he had just long enough to decide that yes, electrocution was definitely more painful, before he woke up in his younger self’s study.
Again.
But this did not bother Artemis greatly. It was easier to die, than it was to watch Holly die. Much easier.
***
This time Artemis did not cut off his younger self, instead, for the first loop so far, he remembered that small simians were comforted by purring.
Artemis the elder was back at the service pylon when he heard his younger self’s voice. “Shoot the animal.”
“Shoot the monkey?” Butler’s surprise was evident.
“It’s a…never mind, just shoot it. The man is protected by his suit, but the lemur is an easy target.
“But the fall…”
“If it dies, it dies. I will not be thwarted here, Butler. If I cannot have that lemur, then no one will have it.” Artemis junior tapped his foot impatiently. “Whenever you’re ready, Butler. The target is not getting any closer.”
Butler drew his pistol.
“Stay back. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.” Artemis would later find this choice of words quite humorous.
“Ah, he speaks. How fortunate that we can understand each other. Well, understand this, stranger, I will have that silky sifaka or it will die, make no mistake.”
“You must not do this. There’s too much at stake.”
“I must do it. I have no choice. Now send the animal over, or Butler will shoot.”
Atop his head was perched the whole reason he’d gone back in time, and a valuable bargaining chip even in the past. “No.” He grabbed the lemur from his head and turned away, and the gunshot echoed in the Rathdown valley. Artemis gasped. The red blossomed from his chest, and he staggered, fell off the pole.
Any normal person would have been panicking at this point. Artemis was rather more concerned with what this meant for the next attempt. I will have to give up the lemur, he thought dejectedly. And this nightmare I have created will continue .
***
Artemis stared, not for the first time, at the elf sitting on the Mini’s hood.
If he told her at the beginning about his terrible lie, they both got shot by Butler because of the commotion. It was what he’d done the first time, and a few times more recently, not that telling Holly that would make her feel better about it. Even if that counted for something to him.
If he didn’t tell her at all, she’d figure it out by Morocco. That had ended badly eleven times out of eleven. He closed his eyes, but instead of seeing black he saw Holly, strewn across shuttle debris, mortally wounded yet still staring daggers at him. Underneath her furious stare there was still love, but only just. He’d kept her company as she’d died, then reset the day by pointing a gun at a first-responding police officer. Eleven times. Variations on a theme, but all the same in the end.
One way or another she would know. And after a fashion, he wanted her to know. The only time he hadn’t tried to tell her was now.
He swallowed. “It wasn’t you, Holly.”
***
Telling her at the Mini hadn’t seemed to work, either. Holly was too distracted to focus on the descent. He needed something, something that would allay her righteous fury. And it was righteous fury, of that he had no doubt.
It was on the fourth attempt that Artemis found the holo-booth.
***
The first time, Artemis had truly bamboozled himself with the five decoys in the sniper spots and Butler himself being on the souk floor. He had thrown himself in front of Butler and his Sig Sauer, realising he could quite easily circumvent this outcome.
This time, Holly was safely back in the cham pod. “How did you know Butler was down there?”
“If I tried to explain, you wouldn’t understand.”
“I’m trying to trust you, Artemis. I promise I am, but you’re making it so hard. Every two steps we take, I get the feeling that you know something you’re not telling me.” She huffed. “You already had me thinking I caused a plague. What next, the end times?”
But Artemis had stopped paying attention to her, his eyes instead glued to the screen. Kronski had pulled out a single-action revolver and had levelled it at Artemis junior.
“It seems that we played this too perfectly,” Artemis the elder sighed. The revolver’s flash sent him back to the study once again. He stared at Holly, and the tears streaming down her cheeks. I will have to deceive you again, my poor friend.
***
It only took two tries to discover the LEP not-a-Lambretta scooter. He only got shot twice by the guards near the rather exclusive golf course, too. The extra deaths were little more than a mild inconvenience made worse by having to experience Holly’s fury over and over again. Though he knew it wasn’t the case, it felt like he had betrayed her fifty times in the past fifty days. Of course, the other forty-nine didn’t count.
But eventually one would.
Artemis tried not to think of this as he clambered back into the shielded shuttle. From here getting into the Extinctionist banquet would be easy.
“This is all your fault,” squealed Kronski. “This was supposed to be the best night of my life.” Artemis kicked and gouged, but to no avail. Kronski pinned him to the trapdoor. One of his kicks brushed its release button on the remote control in Kronski’s suit pocket.
As Artemis fell, he saw the scorch marks on the walls. I will need a different strategy, then.
Or not. Artemis slammed into the metal floor of the pit with a resounding thunk . Unburned. Barely warm. And then, the pit floor, too, yielded. The hinges, expanding gel. Fairy design. That much was doubtless.
Fairy. Endangered species. Opal. It had to be.
The gas pumped in, and Artemis was asleep in seconds.
Artemis woke up in the study. Clearly he’d not thought quickly enough. On the bright side, as far as he knew, at least Holly hadn’t died this time. And all he had to do was hold his breath.
***
On the ninth attempt, Artemis escaped from Opal’s subterranean complex. On the tenth, he made it to the shuttle. And on the eleventh, he suggested Holly trail Aer Lingus 193 to Dublin. On the twelfth, they made it into Fowl Manor.
Holly hunched over, hands on knees. “I thought you were dead.”
“Me too.” Again , he added silently. “Then I realised that I couldn’t die, not in this time.” Or rather, that it couldn’t stick.
“I presume you’re going to explain that to me.”
“Later. Over supper. Now can we open the time stream, friend?”
The bay window curtain flew aside. Artemis junior and Butler stood there, wearing foil suits. Butler was, to put it lightly, heavily armed.
“What was that about a time stream?”
Artemis the elder grinned. Jackpot. This was the golden path. He’d planned for this moment for months. Or rather, for a day. Several times.
“I’m going to tell you a story now, Artemis. At first it will sound ridiculous, but the longer I talk, the more rational it’s going to appear.”
***
Where two had left, three reappeared. Opal’s blathering about the magics in Morocco had informed Artemis of her plans. It was the pixie’s one real weakness, assuming she was the only smart one in the room. Decades of sycophancy had stripped her of her ability to recognise a worthy opponent.
Still, Artemis was careful. Now he was in uncharted territory. The time loop was contained. Predictable. Now that some possible future existed beyond the time they left, it was anyone’s guess what would happen. No. He could not risk it. Months (sort of) of trial and error to get this far. Now it had to be one take. And so he explained his plan to Foaly, No. 1, Holly, and Artemis Junior.
***
“Nice trick,” Artemis said, smiling. His eyes were glassy.
“I’m here till Tuesday,” said Holly, smiling back. “No. 1 filled my tank.”
Artemis gazed up at his friend through a red haze. Took in her features, thanked whatever gods may be.
She was alive.
One hundred and seven times she had died first. Of course he kept count. The other thirty times, he’d died and so the day had reset then and there. Mostly up on the electrical pole.
The one hundred and thirty eighth time, the golden path. The perfect outcome. He glanced at the smoke cloud rising from the Little Sister. Well, perfect enough. Then his eyes returned to the elf he’d done everything he could to save. Should he tell her? Would she even believe him if he did?
“I’m sorry I lied to you, Holly. Truly. You’ve done so much.” In another time.
The distant, conflicted look in her eyes told him everything, even before the words came out. “Maybe you made the wrong decision; maybe I would have made that decision myself. We’re from different worlds, Artemis. We will always have doubts about each other. Let’s just carry on and leave the past in the past, where it should be.”
***
“In another time,” Holly said, and kissed him on the cheek. Artemis stared at her for a moment. There were many other times. She frowned. “What?”
Artemis didn’t immediately respond. Her face, whole. Her breath, even. She was full of vitality. So many times he’d watched the light leave her eyes. He was now just grateful to see that glint of life once again.
Holly recognised that look. The distance, the way it seemed he was about to break. She’d seen that on the faces of Retrieval officers after raids gone wrong. But she wasn’t quite sure why she saw it on his face.
She was rather more able to explain the guilt in his gaze. How much what he had done had hurt him. And in that moment she found it very difficult to feel the weight of his betrayal. So she spoke. “You know something, Fowl? You did a good thing here. For its own sake. Not one penny of profit.”
Artemis grimaced, but underneath there was a kernel of hope. She had weighed his actions and judged them good. That was something, something much more than he deserved, and that he knew well. “I know. I’m appalled.” Best to keep it flippant. Just in case.
He turned his gaze earthward, and when he looked up they were gone.
This cursed journey made one hundred and eight times in total he’d watched one of his dearest friends die.
Artemis did not believe he could stomach a one hundred and ninth.
That will never come to pass , Artemis swore, turning back to the Fowl Manor door. I will sooner die myself.
He chuckled, and to an outside observer he might have seemed insane, bursting out laughing for no apparent reason in the entryway. As I have, over a hundred times.
***
“Logically you have no right to be angry. I simply followed your lead.” Artemis sighed, remembered his promise. One hundred and eight, and no more.
Tears filled Holly’s eyes. “No,” she managed.
“There is no other way.” Artemis was steadfast. He glanced at the manuscript tucked into the shelf. His account of the time paradox. Then at his will, which had been amended. To my friend, Captain Holly Short of the Lower Elements Police, I leave the thirty seven solid gold bars that were the price of her release all those years ago, and the manuscript in my study titled Time Paradox.
“Please, Arty,” she mumbled. “Let me…” but she said no more.
Artemis nearly broke. “No. It has to be me, Holly.” And it would be.