Idiot Savant

            ~ Mage Kitty

A/N:  Well, weeks ago (Dec. 5th) I got an e-mail telling me about a challenge type thing.  The point is, you're (or I'm) supposed to write about Artemis being an Idiot Savant.  Maybe I should define that…

Idiot Savant:  a condition where one is a genius or prodigy in one subject and inept at others.

As well as this being a challenge fic, it is also sorta my tribute to back a year ago when nearly all of the fics were Artemis centric.  At least I think they were…  *laughs*  My memory is bad, so correct me if I'm wrong.  Actually, I think I was one of the first few people to write a fic Fairy centric.  *laughs*  Okay, I'm gonna stop rambling now, okays???

Disclaimer:  I don't own Artemis.

*~*~*~*~* Prologue *~*~*~*~*

            A dark head bent low over a simple, messy desk.  A tanned hand held a pencil improperly and was scribbling furiously at a sheet of loose leaf.  A simple gold ring flashed on the middle finger of the right hand.  Pausing, the person set the pencil down and leaned back in the swivel chair.  The woman took a deep breath, then exhaled.  It was three AM according to her watch.  She then loosed what could have only been a stream of curses in several foreign dialects.  Frowning, she looked out her window.  The sun was shiny brightly on the Irish countryside.  The woman looked back at her watch and realized that the second hand wasn't moving.

            "Stupid piece of shit," she swore, her accent as foreign as her swears.  Once again, she rattled of swears in the same unfamiliar languages.

            "As much as I hate to interrupt you, we have a session scheduled for right now," a pale teenager stood stiffly in her doorway.

            "Er, yes.  Sorry.  Please come in and have a seat.  Oh, wait.  There isn't one.  Please hang on a second," the woman rambled, slightly embarrassed that he walked in on her like that.  She jumped up and brushed past the boy.  A few seconds later, she was back dragging a chair that was originally in the middle of the hall, "Sorry about that," she apologised again, "And, sorry, I don't know your name.  My watch broke and I don't know the time or anything.  Sorry."

            The teenager was a little startled, but none of the emotion registered on his pale face.  Most physiatrists memorize all they can about him, and here this woman is, not knowing who he is.

            "Artemis.  Artemis Fowl the Second," the teenager, Artemis, stated.

            "Isis.  Isis Yannitsos the First," the woman flashed him a grin, "A fine pair we make.  Two Goddesses.  Why were you named after a Goddess anyway?"

            "My father's name is Artemis," the woman snorted and muttered 'duh,' "So my parents named me after him."

            "Still doesn't answer my question, but, oh well.  Your name is familiar, Artemis.  Can I call you that?" She asked, then rambled ahead without waiting for an answer, "And, no, it's not the Greek Goddess of the Hunt, Moon and Virgins.  Well, one of the Virgin Goddesses.  Athena is one of the others.  I can never remember the third, though."

            Artemis groaned mentally.  It looked like his new physiatrist had a tendency to ramble, something that he detests.

            "Athena is my middle name.  My parents have an obsession with Gods and couldn't decide what to call me.  My mother, an Egyptian, said 'Isis' and my father, a Greek, said 'Athena'.  After a long debate, they finally settled on a coin toss to decide my name.  My mother won," Isis continued rambling, "Er, wait.  Did I have a point here?"

            "You said that my name was familiar and then started rambling on about Virgin Goddesses," Artemis picked an imaginary, or very small, piece of dirt out from under his fingernail.

            "It is.  I can remember reading it somewhere," Isis finally realized that she was still standing up, so she wandered back to her swivel chair.

            "It would have something to do with crime, intelligence or in a Psychiatry journal," Artemis stared emotionlessly at her with his dark blue eyes.  Isis didn't notice; she was too busy trying to find her pencil in the mess that was her desk.

            "Oh.  Ooooh!  I remember now!  You're the one that Doctor Dead Poet warned me about!" Isis shoved pieces of paper off of her desk.  A folder slid off with the rest, landing in Artemis' lap.

            "Doctor Po.  I presume he left you this," Artemis blandly held up the folder labelled 'Artemis Fowl' in Dr. Po's neat handwriting.

            "That's where that went!" Isis exclaimed, "Thanks!" She leaned across her desk and relieved Artemis of the folder.

            "Now, t the risk of being cliché, I'm going to ask you a few questions.  Or, rather, I ask you a question, then you ask me one.  Answer truthfully!" Isis said cheerfully, "You start."

            "Why are you here?" Artemis asked the first question that came to his mind.  Actually, he was wondering that question for awhile.

            "Money.  My turn.  Who are your friends?" Isis doodled vaguely on a sheet of paper.

            "I don't have friends.  Why Ireland?  You're not from here," Artemis stated.

            "Change of scenery.  Besides, I got a job.  Acquaintances then," Isis stopped doodling and met Artemis' eyes with her black rimmed blue ones.

            'Butler, Juliet and…" Artemis frowned, the first facial expression asides from boredom he had shown, "How old are you?" She didn't look a day over thirty.  The crow's feet and world-weary eyes made her look older, though.

            "Twenty-seven.  Who where you going to say before you trailed off?" Isis held his gaze.

            "I don't remember.  How long have you been a physiatrist for?" Artemis kept glaring at her.  She didn't seem to be the slightest bit unnerved.

            "A few years.  Tell me everything you can about the person," Isis commanded.

            "Colours.  Red and green.  Be more exact," Artemis commanded back.

            "I have a bad memory.  Maybe three years?  Two?  Christmas colours, eh?  Out of season," Isis paused to consider her next question.  As she did, she hummed a few bars of a Christmas carol.  Artemis' pale face got paler as the words reverberated around his head.

            Deck the halls with boughs of Holly

            Fa la la la la la la la la

            'Tis the season to be jolly...

            One word of it wouldn't leave his mind.  Holly.  Artemis' blue eyes widened and he gripped his seat with white knuckles.

            "Artemis?" Isis asked, concerned.

            "Holly," he groaned softly, too quiet for her to catch, and collapsed in a faint.

*~*~*~*~*

A/N:  I have no idea when I'll update next.  I'm very busy, as I've mentioned a million times in all my other fics…  As far as I know, this fic will be updated in a year.  *rolls eyes*  Don't be surprised if that happens…  Also, the name 'Yannitsos' is actually a Greek name.  It's the name of my ex-Drama teacher who is Greek.  So yes.  But Isis will be nothing like Mrs. Yannitsos.  *laughs*

            ~ Mage Kitty =^.^=