This is another Artemis Fowl fanfiction that just suddenly came into my head, but this time, I was able to write it all nonstop and be able to finish it as well. If anything confuses you, send me a message or review, and I will see if I can help! Or maybe reading my notes at the end of this will be of better use to you… Anyways, please enjoy and review even if you don't want to. I'd like to know what you guys think of this.

As there is no real identification of the characters, I was thinking of submitting this into some sort of scholarship contest so I can have some more money for collage. Think that is possible, or can connections to the Artemis Fowl series be easily made?

Also – any suggestions for a better title for this?

Enjoy!

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Disclaimer: I do not own this anime/manga, book series or anything else such as songs, poems, games etc. I have no affiliation with any company, corporation or network. Any poems that you do not recognize are mine, and will be confirmed in a small author’s note before it starts. Please do not sue me, thank you.

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o.0.o

"…A dream is nothing but a succession of images, thoughts, or emotions passing through the mind during sleep…"

The piano played a haunted solo… it was in the middle of the night, and no one noticed the music when it first began. Everyone else within the whole manor was too far away for the slight beginning notes to be audible… As the piece began to be played further, the notes became slightly sharper… slightly louder. A bit more dramatic.

A bit more desperate.

A blade sharper than a knife, but too small to be a sword… something that was a product of scientific elements and calculations rather than the elements of the crude world outside bleached hallways and pure human experimentation.

Funny… isn't it? A piano… dark wood polished and sanded down to sheer perfection. Strings and ivory and obsidian and steel carved and cut and forged and molded into an absolute beauty that could not be reproduced ever again, even though the overall product was made over and over again… and sometimes were crafted by machines in a factory. But this instrument was labored over by human hands. Perfection was a must.

He was always connected to the piano. Maybe because he was like the piano himself – just a mere product of the dreams and desires and expectations of those around him. But then again… weren't all humans the products of their environments? Even if some of the individual beings went in directions that weren't expected or wanted. Or maybe it was because he was dark with a hint of lightness… and with the capability to produce something ugly, or achieve something wondrous to those around him.

: II : II : II :

"Again with the people who surround me! Why must I think of the consequences that could result from my actions when they have done worse and think nothing about anything? I am no god – why must I be expected to be like one?"

The piano played once more… the same haunted tune floated in and out of reality and perception, in search of some sort of logical entity in which it could be processed through the thousands of nerves and synapses and bits of electricity produced by means unknown to the one who played… the human body was not a concern, unlike the mind. But this time, there was something foreign within the dark hallways of the ancient structure.

The mechanically produced sounds found a mind.

The perception of reality always differs from person to person… opposites are everywhere and it is rare for one to find another with a similar view about reality. Thousands could find similar views about everything else in others… And the perception of reality that had lingered by for a few moments was extraordinary…

The mind is something that even the most brilliant of minds had yet to figure out… some parts of it could be deciphered and made into logic… but the only reason why that was possible was because what was analyzed was physical. The mind, the sole thing that made an entity human was not understood at all. It was impossible… unless one abandoned their own reality, allowed another come in, and take control…

He knew that no one would ever take the time to look at him not as a genius, or as someone who had done both wrong and good and was paying for both, or as something to be disposed of for one reason or another. Those around him played an important part in him becoming the way that he was, but he wished that they didn't. He longed independence that was never going to be his… that was never going to be anyone's.

: II : II : II :

"Someone who rebels is just a mind that is too different when compared to the minds surrounding him or her to be tolerated…"

This time, as the piano's melody became drastic and sharp as any blade, but with the presence of desperation, something else sharp invaded. One by one, the sound obviously came closer, but it did not increase in volume. Was the maker of the new, intruding sound calculating the intrusion of the sound? Making it match the song of the piano to be something like a Trojan horse, or perhaps… the sound did not want to intrude at all?

Any and all answers eluded him.

The desperation to escape one sense of reality and become absorbed into another was overwhelming… overwhelming but not necessary. The desperation was only caused by fear that could be quickly expelled. The reality was just looked at wrongly…

Reality could not be trusted… it was the only things that remained once fantasy faded. And if another fantasy came before the one who was fantasizing could view a glimpse of reality, then it would remain the one thing that was distrusted the most. The fantasy that came and went could always be a safe haven for the dreamer, and reality would never come and destroy the fantasy. Unless something else broke free from the dream.

He knew whom it was who walked up behind him – he knew that they meant no harm, nothing at all… and that was what bothered him. Who in this world meant absolutely nothing? He knew that all of the people around him – countless thousands – had some sort of purpose, as fleeting as it might be, and that at one point within their existence, meant something in some sense. So why not this meek, but ever so intruding entity?

: II : II : II :

"Who in this world is to rightfully decide what I will do with my life or what I think than besides myself? There might be instances where I cannot express my thoughts, but that does not mean that they do not exist or will someday become into words!"

The song slowly faded into silence once the sharp and desperate notes finished their mourning… The one producing the terrible music breathed a breath he did not know that he had lost while he was playing. Turning around, two realities soundlessly crashed, but unlike others they did not fight. They acknowledged that the other existed and that there was not much of a chance for the other to be accepted by the other. Soundlessly, the intruder breathed out their own breath that they did not know that they had found.

It was almost like forced suicide.

It was a chance for a new beginning that neither wanted; it was a new beginning that would not be accepted by those around them in their environment. They were both mere products of what was around them, but they had gone in ways that was not expected or wanted. And so they had very few choices left for themselves to make.

One has to wonder if it is easier to live a dream or live someone else's reality. Naturally, the body fights any and all changes so that it may keep the vital and much needed concept of homeostasis. It was a part of survival in the physical world, which was a reality that one could not escape from, unless a sense of reality was given up and no other reality came in to take over. Others outside looking in called this insanity.

The intruder opened their mouth and asked a question full of nothing but pure and honest concern for the other. Be as it may, the concern was not wanted or accepted. But it was not a harsh rejection – the reality of the other might not have been accepted or allowed to take over, but the reasons for its existence was understood and accepted. But that was all that was going to be accepted: reasons, and nothing more. The intruder, on the other hand, wanted to know more. Perhaps they were willing to abandon and trade realities.

: II : II : II :

"Why are you so cold?"

"Why are you warm?"

"What is it that makes you frown so?"

"What gives you the reason to smile?"

"Why do I feel so pathetic when I am around you?"

"Why do I feel the same way when I am with you?"

"How can you not understand?"

"How can you bear to?"

"Greatness lies within us all – what about you?"

"Isn’t greatness something we have to strive for and achieve?"

"Why do I feel as if I am floating away…?"

"And why do I feel as if I am sinking?"

"Why does it matter if someone is like you?"

"When did I ever say that it mattered?"

"Doesn't it only take a choice to make a change?"

"Doesn't it only take one more to make things remain the same?"

"Why do you fear to open up to someone?"

"Why do you fear to keep yourself distant from someone?"

"Is reality just a glimpse pass a dream?"

"Then is a dream nothing more than a wall blocking reality?"

: II : II : II :

The intruder sat down beside the pianist, and struck one key. It was the beginning of something new, something old, something he had forgotten but was beginning to remember. Was it another code to decipher? Was it some sort of test that he had to over come? Was there an actual meaning or purpose behind the single, mechanical sound? Reaching over to him, the intruder took his right hand and made him play another. Slowly, another key was played, and this time, he played the next automatically.

It continued like this – one key, one key, one.

The piano of sheer perfection soon played another song, one that was not so haunted. The song was still achingly sorrowful, and there was still the hint of morning within it. But the pianist realized that despite the obvious relationship between this new song and the one that has possessed him during other nights, it was different. It was carved by something that was not a product of reality or dreams or those around it. It had the independence that he had longed for simply because it willed itself to be like that.

And soon, the song was completed.

An eerie presence lingered within the air that surrounded them. The intruder who was welcomed a bit more than before looked above and blinked once, twice. The feeling of something waiting to be released intensified, and the pianist looked to where the intruder was looking as well. And then, a silence without intrusion settled over everything. The dream was gone, and neither was sure if they would miss the illusion it gave them or not.

: II : II : II :

"It still amazes me in how you are able to tell where I am, despite the fact that no one else has been able to before."

"I don’t find you… you know that. Something about you draws me to wherever you might happen to be. It could be your mind, soul… or even your feelings."

"And you say that I am the one living inside a dream."

"Such is the life of an empath."

o.0.o

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Ok, this was something that was oddly… easy for me to write. But explaining it will be something entirely different. Go figure.

1. All though the characters can be anyone within the Artemis Fowl series, it is obvious that the main "character" in this is Artemis (the second, mind you) and an original character. Of course, you can let your imagination go wild with whoever is in this. As not one character is really mentioned in this, I could also warp the two figures in this into my own characters and go see if I could publish this somewhere.

2. I have to admit that not that much thought went into this; I was able to write this within an hour and a half. All of this was just a constant stream of thought that I had been ignoring and suppressing for quite some time. I feel guilty about this… I know that it is not good, but there are amazing writers out there that agonize and make their fingers bleed and minds hurt over their works… and I didn't for this one.

3. The quotes do have importance, but they do not have any specific meaning towards the over all plot line. The first and third quotes are my own warped interpretations of the words "dream" and "rebel"; thank dictionary(dot)com and my own strange imagination for that. They relate to some parts of this, but not all of it like others.

As for the second and fourth quote, if I wrote a fanfic with Artemis and my original character, I would have them say those quotes somewhere in the story. The third one is obviously a quote that Artemis would say – some of us AF fangirls do see him as a god, don't we? As for the fourth one, that one will belong to my original character if I ever give her a total and complete existence.

4. The piano is vital for the whole story – it gives the story a setting (nighttime; ballroom; a lot of empty space and simple, cold background scenery) and it gives me something to play with. I have always connected Artemis to the piano; it just fits him. Not to mention that in one of the books, Eoin Colfer did describe Artemis's hands as pianist hands.

Also blame Stradivari (who writes excellent Artemis Fowl fanfics I might add) for the said idea of Artemis being a pianist.

5. The quotes that are opposites or near opposites of the one previous are things that Artemis and the original character will either ask themselves (about the other of course) or ask the other out loud. Answers may vary, depending on who answers. Really – tell me what you think the answers to the questions are. I'd like to know.

6. The italics are... odd. They might be a part of a fanfic I might someday write, but until then, they are up for people to decode. But the first one, talks about a laser. Maybe in that mentioned fanfic, Artemis and a laser cross paths. Figuratively or literally, I am not sure. I am a bit more for the literal sense of "laser" though.

7. Inspiration for this heavily lies within Stradivari's works and ability to make me think, and "Little House" by The Fray, which I listened to while writing this.

8. The whole thing about being a product of your environment and/or the people around you that is scattered throughout the story is because of a thesis we had to write about for this stupid TAKS test back in tenth grade. The argument was something along the lines of if a person is a product of their surroundings or not. We had to chose yes or no, and only yes or no, even though I wish they gave me have a computer and let me write as much as I wanted about the whole topic. I would have gotten such a good score on that if I was allowed... I personally believe that we are products of our environment, but how we turn out is ultimately left up to us, even if we don't think it is.

9. Um… I will come back later and make some more notes. I need to dig into this and find some more answers myself. Don't hesitate to ask something!