Disclaimer: All characters that belong to Colfer belong to Colfer (and assorted publishers, Miramax ect). If I have inadvertently named a real person (net-wise or reality-wise) this is a complete accident; I don't know of your existence and do not mean to offend. And Kitty, I love you dearly and am not likening you to an MSite... Except that I am. Anyhow, I love you dearly.
Author's Note: Holly's drabble obviously takes place between the events of AF and TAI.
The idea for these drabbles was directly taken off it's like in the Pirates of the Caribbean fandom – 'Everyone Wants Captain Jack Sparrow'. Unfortunately, I last saw those drabbles years ago, and have been unable to find them since, or else I would link to them and have asked the author for permission to shamelessly copy her/his idea. That author did this far more reasonably, too, with the most outrageous perspective being that of the compass (and the Black Pearl).
Artemis nods and smiles at me as I put down the coffee tray. I put the single sugar in as he watches, stirring with a silver spoon.
I bend, place it down before him; my heart fluttering, my stomach clenching, and my panties growing damp as our hands brush for only a moment. I move my hand away, though I can't yet bear to straighten and be far from him once more.
He raises the cup, and his eyes close as he breathes in the heavenly smell. I can scent Artemis's aftershave, just as heavenly.
Yes, he is.
There's a special place in my mind where Artemis Fowl resides, torturing me with failure. He is the one who escaped. He is the one who beat us. He beat me. Kidnapped me.
I don't care for the rules or the Book. He mocks us with his knowledge; his bow to defeat, then the speeding blue death which he escaped.
His mother, the gold, his life, his victory. They are nothing; it is the smirking grin in his eyes which is his triumph.
He beat the fairies.
I shall beat him, eventually. I shall!
I want revenge.
I want him.
Juliet (I love her dearly) doesn't understand. She doesn't understand the ocean-swell of pride at having been chosen; the passion I have in my purpose – his life; the delicate attention I've paid to him all his life - all the worthwhile years of my own.
She. Doesn't. Know.
I know him better than anyone else in the world. Surely that gives me the right to love him. Like a father. Like a lover.
Life partners. Together always.
He is everything to me. His eyes sparkle when he looks at me; I'm everything to him as well.
I have to be.
Closed Circuit Television
My breath catches as I follow him on the screen. So young… He would be innocent, like any pre-pubescent child in a school yard, except for the smirking intelligence in his eyes that… mocks me? He glances up then, walking towards the bathroom. He knows I watch. Does he know I do so with my mouth dry?
I get my answer.
He stares at the mirror (straight at me) as he undresses, as if shocked to find his body beneath the suit. Small hands flutter across child nipples and I shudder.
I gulp. My hand moves. I come.
Artemis Fowl the First
The impossible boy! How can he do this to me? Doesn't he understand what I've taught him since birth about family? Honour? I'm his father, does that mean nothing?
I laugh, bitter and twisted. He understands, but cares little.
And with that he snidely steals my men from under me. He takes my profits, my businesses. Catches my best contacts, buys them with gold and power. He infiltrates my world and makes it his own.
He is meant to be mine.
I am meant to lead him, not be led like a dog by him.
Bastard? I wish he was.
They were right, he is perfect.
I've been watching for hours. He hacked into the CIA and left false evidence incriminating a newborn in Paris for it, listened to some excessively trendy music, and learnt most of the Portuguese language in anticipation of traveling to Brazil.
He is perfect, I purr. He is… like me.
He needs me, I know it. He needs someone of equal intellect so we can talk about astrophysics and solve world conflicts together.
I need him. He's my equal, my love, my soulmate.
No one else could possibly do.
Mother shall get him for me.
My mouth twists in disgust. The author made him gay? How can they do that? They made my Artemis gay! It's impossible! Everyone knows he can't be gay, because he's going to marry me! I've got a scar on my left ring-finger; ArTeMiS'sGaL91 is so jealous. It's the shape of a crescent moon: Artemis's symbol. We're destined to marry.
I love him!
Everyone does, I know. But he'll love me in return! And I bet he has straight hair. HollieFowl's wrong about that - everyone knows he's got straight hair.
Everyone knows he's going to get together with me.
The Clack on Tiles
Lex the Lobster
Cracks. The nets in the water? Something I barely remember: wave. I scramble over the others, clicks of legs on backs. We can move. Water flows down, down, down, away. I go with it.
Click. Click. Click.Clickclickclickclick…
Fish flounder upon the white bottom. Not enough water for them. Enough for me. I scramble, I'm faster. Over the white bottom my legs click and clack and clatter.
Dark shape. Shark? Not enough water. Human. Interesting. Big one. Small one looks like the one who takes us to the boiling death. I'll get him back. My claws are sharp.
We flutter around the warm human. It is different from most, and we know this. It feels strange, human does, not like fairy. Fairy knows, in the deepest parts of self. Fairy knows us. Human knows too, but it is not the same. Human knows in the warm parts, not the deep; human welcomes us with his mind, not with Ritual and normalcy, not like fairy-minds.
We like that.
He is … in awe. A child. Child human who believes and knows at once. Unusual.
We like him.
We want him.
We move. Through him; in him; around him.
Clatter. Click. Spark. Faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaasssssssssst.
I move. Spin. Spin. Spin. Fast. Faster. Spinspinspin I go: dark metal heats oxygen I pass.
Before me: boy. Aimed well. Face closer, closer. Shocked. Not know what I am? No time shocked, just dead. Spin. Spin. Blue eyes, white brow.
Darkness coming. Dark suit. Straining face.
I wanted him. I wanted the boy, not this one.
Took him from me! I wanted the boy, his white brow, not meaningless dent in suit.
Hit. Hard. Warm blood covers me. Hard muscle slows me. Stop. Not meaningless, I know it.
But I wanted him.