Summery: He is unique. He is his own kind of perfection. But... no... how...? Artemis is losing himself, and it scares him more than losing his life. Post-TLC

Warning: Cutting themes, character death, general angstiness.

This was written just after scanning the Orion Awards, and once again being enveloped by jealousy at the skill of the writers exhibited. Yes, this makes me somewhat infantile, but oh well, I usually get over it after a while... then read them over again. Curse this idiotic loop!

Unique

Foaly had been the first blow. The centaur, though, was easy to handle, his age nearing a thousand. In that time, of course one would aquire great knowledge. Besides, who knew what percentage of brain power was unlocked by the constant stream of magic he was exposed to? Still, it stung, the loop in the camera footage, the first proof of an intellect nearing -not surpassing, his mind couldn't comprehend that- his own. The spark of jealousy burned throughout every action pursued during the kidnapping; the gall of knowing someone, anyone had dared to compete with him. But again, Foaly was of other species, not even humanoid.

Then came Opal Kobi. All thanks to fairy aging, she looked no older than a human twenty year old, and simply hearing about her chilled him. Not out of fear... no. Not out of fear for his physical self. Seeing her, seeing the sharp intelligence that sparkled in her eyes, he had felt fear for something he had never truly concerned himself with, so secure in the knowledge it was his.

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"This is your son? I Should have guessed, he looks just like his father!" Artemis the First was parading his son in front of his co-workers and associates. He smiled proudly, and looking up at his father, the boy smiled in return. But it was not the same smile. Proud of his title, his intelligence, his style, Artemis the Second was most vain about his ability to stand beside someone and be so different. He was six, and he knew that one day, no-one would ever be more intelligent than he. But for the moment, most of the adults in the room matched him -his father only dealt with the best- and he need somewhat else to set him apart. His lips parted slowly, revealing straight white teeth. There was little humor in his smile; the man in front of him almost stepped back, and the child knew it. That smile, the vampire's grin, Artemis the Second's trademark; was born.

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But Opal Kobi was insane, and though it was a line as thin as a knife blade, there it was; a distinction between genius and insanity. In the insitution she remained, while he once again became secure of his hold; no-one was cleverer than he, no-one remotley human.

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The psychologist stared at the test results, shaking his head slowly. Angeline Fowl stepped forward, concerned. "Is anything wrong?" She asked softly, glancing at her eight year old son, who sat perfectly still, in the exact center of his chair. He had even conditioned and molded his body to perfect symmetry. The analyst shook his head once more, still shocked.

"Nothing wrong, no." The awe in the man's voice was like a drug, a light, emotional high for the child. "But the test... Your son's IQ, I've never- no one, no one since Mozart has had an IQ this high. He's a miracle of nature."

Miracle of Nature. Now that did sound good. Artemis Fowl the Second had begun developing his style, his certain way of doing things that set him apart, that scared the lesser mortals. But nothing he did, his smile, his physical grace, his cultivated accent, none of these things set him apart as had those three words. Miracle of Nature. Nothing else mattered, now. He was unique, perfectly unique, in his way of acting; but nothing else he did would name him something higher than surprising, or impressive, perhaps.

Nothing else mattered. He knew what he had to strive for.

Miracle of Nature.

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Then it happened. She came into the picture. Never heard of before, she dared silently mock him, with her smooth plans, her cold grace. How dare she? But he was still the smarter. He had to be. This child, three years his junior, dared enter a realm only he had entered before. The People were his prize. His reward for his intelligence, that he had culitvated and nurtured, that HE had sacrificed everything for. Knowledge set him apart, now she tried to take it from him. Minerva Paradizo. She admitted as much, that she had heard of him. So she tried to steal his title, that, above all else, that he had wanted since before he realised he wanted it. But defeating her in her own home had felt good. She was younger, dumber, less than he would ever be. He could handle it. He had to. So he smiled his vampire smile, continued business with his stiff formality, and focused all his feeling in knowledge. But then the trip to Hybras.

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Dark smudges circled his eyes, the lack of sleep made it harder for the boy to keep his decorum, but he managed. Butler entered the room at intervals, but assumed his charge was rested. He never yawned, his posture never slipped, he never uttered a sound of any concivable emotion. He was fine, right? It wasn't possible that a ten year old could act so calm in the face of family tragedy, but Master Artemis managed. But... again... he wasn't normal. He really was what everyone pronounced him. Unique. And clearly, he relished it. A slight tightening around the mouth, a brightening of the eyes, Artemis showed little else by way of emotion, so Butler had learnt to read the subtle messages, and one thing was clear. Compliments about his intelligence were welcomed, but so were any others, and at the same amount. A comment on his singularity, uniqueness, rarity... the child glowed with pleasure, to those who could read him.

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He had been gone a day. A single day, yet on returning the girl had grown. She was older, and beautiful, by all accounts, but what did looks matter? She couldn't be smarter. She had had extra time, while he was away, more experience with newer technology. But none the less, she just couldn't. And wasn't, he assured himself of that. Till the comments started. He graciously dealt with comments on his own intellect from her, and returned them lightly. They grated, but he held onto the belief that no matter clever this girl was, she was not him. She was not Artemis Fowl. She never would be.

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"Ah, the twins."

"What did you call us?"

"Twins. You two are exactly the same."

"Excuse me?"

"Bet your IQ's the same, too. And you're both rich. And polite, and haughty. The same in every way."

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Oh, it hurt. A twin, he was called, one half of a whole. A part of a set. One side of a single coin. So he was only half a person, was he? She was so akin to him, that they might as well be one person. One person. A single being, divided into two... They were the same... so only one was needed, really...

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He sat alone. He didn't know how anyone, himself included, could even picture him alone, if she was his twin. They should always be together, yes?

No. It didn't work that way. A sword, sliced down the middle, could still be used. But it was awkward, handling two havles, when not together. Only one half was needed. In fact, once divied, one side would become useless, unneeded, eventually rusting while it's erstwhile twin was honed into a sharper weapon. He was unneeded. My, there was peace in that. Beautiful, wonderful peace.

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They danced the same dance, they two. Subtle notes, shifts and changes, an intricate set of steps that only they knew. But even if only they knew the steps, it was clear that they both danced. Others watched as they moved as one -or so it seemed. Others watched as every move he made, she matched, till it was impossible to tell who had started it all. Impossible to all but him, who knew. She wasn't him. She tried to be, she almost succeeded, she... It took two to Tango, but he had never liked dancing anyway.

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Stolen his identity. That was what she had done. What he started, she continued, no-one knew, any longer, who was what, and which was which.

"This, at least," his breathing was soft, gasping. "You cannot mimic." His breath caught, the steel edge digging into his skin once again. Razors had two blades. He had never noticed till then. One was discarded, unneeded, unwanted. Only one would be used, only one could be used.

"Will you?" He whispered the question to the silver in his hand, glancing at the unused steel scattered among the ruined plastic; the pair's ex-confinment. "We are no longer one. Past; we were seperate. Present, bound together." He giggled coldly, gazing at the crimson tipped blade. "I see the future." He whispered, gesturing again at the other blade. "Past, bound together, this time. Present, torn apart. But one is unneeded." He stopped, staring intently at the blade as if confused. He dropped it, making sure it was a distance away from it's sibling. "Not together." An absent mutter. He picked up the long knife, the third blade he found, had carried with him. He stared at the blade lovingly, then snarled at the razors. "You are not me! Neither of you." He fingered the blade before pressing it against his lips. "You are me." A low murmur, barely audible. "You are not one part of something else, not half of another." Lower, the knife travelled, till it was pressed against a slowly beating heart. "You are... ah!" He felt it, pain, but also joy. She would not do it, in this, at least, she would not mimic him. He, who dared fight what everything around him had proclaimed him. An only child of a single mentality. Deciding to control his own fate, a true Miracle of Nature. He smiled his weakened vampire smile. "I am... not you... I am..." Over, it was almost over. A gasp, a breath, a prayer.

"Unique."

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Don't judge too harshly, this was my first angst fic. But please reveiw, I need to know how I did.