s h i p s drowned in Blood x x x


Like any good son, Artemis loves his mother, he really does.
But as she descends deeper into the madness, he begins to wonder if there is a price too high for him pay.
(They'll go down this sinking ship together, if only because they are of one blood.)

warnings: dubious content, something-like-incest-through-insanity, and rather questionable explorations of the human mind afflicted with madness.
notations: gift!fic for BebeBloo, who wanted ArtemisII/Angeline in canon. I'm not too good with Artemis Fowl, but I tried. Heheh. Artemis/Angeline if ever done right, would be something I would like to read.


The room is dark when he enters, like it has been for months on end.

Father has been missing, declared legally dead, and with the sinking of one ship, their family has lost a quarter of their fortune, half of their name, and two members. One, if alive (no, no; you must not think like that), is freezing in the northernmost parts of the world. The second, still-barely alive (she breathes, she eats, she cries-but does she live?), huddling in the darkest corner of a once-spacious room.

The door creaks, and he absently notes that he needs to get Juliet to oil it again.

Once, they had more maids, more servants, but there is no need nor income for them now.

(He needs to restore their family honor)

"...Timmy...?" Angeline whimpers, her voice strikingly clear in the dark. Artemis stiffens; her pet name for Father, and he tries to correct her for the third time.

"Not 'Timmy'. I am Artemis," Arty, he would say, but rebuilding a fortune requires one to lose all hints of sentimentality (the world will exploit such things, otherwise). Your son, don't you remember? But she does not, and it is all-too-obvious when she laughs, too happy, too real, for someone with her degree of illness.

(Since when was being too happy a bad thing-?)

"You always used to say that, Timmy," she giggles, like a schoolgirl.

"Did I now?" he murmurs, playing along.

Love, the doctors say. Love, will be the thing to cure her, to cure his mother.

(Father is not here, and only he can give her the love that she wants, she needs, she craves.)

"Yes," Angeline breaths out, voice light and lilting, her hand grasps his wrist, feather-touch; cold and weak and lonely, "Yes, you always did..." and she gives a slow pull, hesitating, as if his wrist is made of clouds, "Timmy, come here."

She is his mother, and it pains him greatly to see her like this.

He goes, but only because he does not understand love, does not understand illness, no matter the amount of psychology he will read and write. Mother is curable, Father is alive; and yet neither of them are here.

When she kisses him, longing and heartache and hurt, and he can't quite remember to breath, and instinctively, he shoves her away. Angeline falls back against the bed with more force than Artemis thinks possible, and he panicks for a moment (did he hurt her-kill her?) until he hears her utter a string of words, cushioned in-between with gasps and dry sobs.

"You don't..." a pause for a gasp, "love me..." the shuffle of sheets, "anymore," another breathless sob, "do you Timmy?"

She needs love, the doctors, they say. Psychologists, psychiatrists, even the specialists; they are as certain that she can cured as they are of their own inability to cure her. (He needs more money, more power-more intelligence; Father might not be here, but Artemis will be damned if he manages to lose Mother in this mess as well.)

Yes I do I love you, he wants to say, wants to say so much. But she won't understand, she has never understood a word since Father has been gone.

(Business, business.)

"Timmy...!" his Mother gasps, one hand clutching at her heart, the other reaching towards the darkness. It brushes against his suit Armani but she doesn't quite register the touch, flinging it out wildly. "I've missed you... so... much!" Angeline sits up instantaneously, reaching both arms out blindly to hug onto and never let go of Artemis.

His eyes widen at the arms around his waist.

Mother should know, should understand, should not be sick.

He wants to hate his parents-both of them-for everything. For losing their family fortune, for losing his actual family, for losing his personal freedom-

For losing his mind.

Slowly, awkwardly, (because this is wrong, and Angeline is wrong, and Artemis must be wrong too for playing along with games) he loops his suit-dressed arms about her shaking shoulders. The trembling form that is his Mother does not stop, but she does not hug him closer either.

"I love you too," he whispers back, heart-heavy because it is not like that and Mother does not know him, does not remember him.

Love, the doctors have repeated. She needs it, craves for it.

Suddenly, she stiffens, and the too-weak arms gain unknown strength, pushing him back and away. 'Is this not what you wanted?' he wants to exclaim, because Angeline-his Mother-is scaring him, has been scaring him. There is no light at all in the room, but the steel-like tone of her voice shows him the accompanying expression.

"Who are you?" she accuses, silently, "Where is my Timmy? Where is he?"

(Father would have come back by now-right?)

"Timmy!" Angeline screams, throwing the nearby tray. It his the bed before making its way to the floor, and she gives a cry of pain, because it has managed knock itself against her leg in the process. "Timmy!" she cries out once more, voice high and terrified and not-like-his-Mother.

"Mother-" he starts, tries to soothe,

"Get away from me! Get away from me!" she shrieks, legs kicking and sheets flying about, "Go away! Leave me alone, you imposter! Timmy!" she yells his Father's 'name' at the top of lungs again, repeating, repeating, until her voice runs dry and he's left with the sobbing heap of flesh and bones and sadness that is-

That is his Mother.

"Good-night," he manages to choke out, blindly feeling his way out of the room once more. He dons his 'normal' face a second too late upon leaving, and Butler catches the unusual uncomposed face.

He offers no explanation as usual, and Butler pauses for a moment, if only to usher Juliet in. In Artemis' mind, he makes reports of stocks, tallies, and good new exploits. He must rebuild the family fortune, he must rebuild his family.

The ship has already sunk, and yet it is still sinking. He and his Mother are on it.

(They'll go down this sinking ship together, if only because they are of one blood.)