You're In Love

A/N: This is the lyric-less version of a songfic I just finished called "You're In Love", using the lyrics from said song by Wilson Philips. You can see the whole version with lyrics at Artemis Fowl Confidential. I thought about indicating where the lyrics where supposed to go, but I feel that it flows well enough for it to stand on its own. Um, yes, other than that... that's about it. Enjoy!

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Simply because he called me here doesn't mean I had to come. I came because I wanted to, right? Not because he summoned me. It's odd… for the reason why I'm here is… unclear. Must he be so ambiguous? Or is it just me making him this way?

He steps out of Fowl Manor, his long stride making the moments for him to get from the door to the gate fewer than I remember. Yes, I knew how many steps it used to take him to get from there to here. I knew how many seconds it would be before he was next to me. I knew how many breaths he took in a single minute. I knew it… because I thought it was necessary – needed for me to know all of him. So if I don't know how many times he blinks in a half-hour, does that mean I don't know him anymore? Or is the number such a variable, such a large variable, that it is impossible for me to know?

Hair flowing, waving, blowing, lips smiling, eyes glowing. Oh, the way he looks makes me breathless. Now, how long has it been since I've felt like that? And… the last time we talked, we said we were friends. When was that again? I used to be able to count the days since I talked to him. I used to count the minutes, the seconds, before I saw him again. That one… one simple little word…

"Minerva," he sighs. Oh, the way his voice sounds when he says my name. I feel like a girl again.

"Artemis," I reply. There is nothing else I can say but smile. The warmth inside me is unlike anything I have ever experienced. I am just… so… happy…

Happiness is so underrated.

It seems as if he finds me different, just as I find him different. I laugh, and he does also. I feel so giddy inside, just to see him, just to hear him. And look at you, Artemis, you are so happy. I've worried about him for so long, I just wanted him to be happy. And now that I see that he is…

I hug you. And, my goodness, you hug me back.

"You are such a good friend," he says into my hair, holding me tight. Yes, I know I am, Artemis, but what about you? I want to ask him. My eyes and my lips fight one another for dominance. You were the one that did not return my calls, my letters, my e-mails. What have you been doing lately that we have grown so distant? But, really, is it my place to know? If whatever that has kept him from me has made him… like this… then maybe it is a good thing that we have not seen each other for such a long time.

How… long has it been?

"It has been six years since I have returned from Hybras," he tells me, like he is reading my mind. You have always had a tendency to do that. "Can you believe that, legally, I am 24 now? And you, Minerva, you are 21. You… have grown so much."

Yes, yes I have.

He pulls back from me and takes a good, long look. I have matured, filled out, become a woman with several degrees under the pretty golden belt I'm wearing. And because of him, Artemis, I have become beautiful on the inside as well as the outside. I run a hand through my hair – my curls are loose today.

I finally recall, "It has been so long, almost a whole year, since you have contacted me last. So, why now?"

The look on his face tells me he does not know. My automatic reaction is to ask him, But… Artemis, do you not always have a purpose for everything? I laugh. It's about time. Not all things need to have an explanation. His face slips back into his usual demeanor, gradually, as the moment wears thin. Yes, I know, reunions are hard. We both should know.

"You most certainly do not have to answer that, Artemis," I assure him. "How very intrusive of me."

He smirks. Now that's the Artemis I know.

There is thunder in the mansion before us. He turned to look at the door, and in response, I turn to look at it too. A young woman runs out with a frying pan in her hand. She is not one I have seen before. I glance back at Artemis, watching him beam, his eyes glitter. And the girl, I look at her. She is so ordinary. Is she the reason why he is so happy?

She throws the pan on the concrete path leading to the entrance with a loud clash. It rattles until she puts her foot in it to stop it. It seems she is irritated. She is screaming at someone. And then, all at once, she turns to see Artemis and her anger melts, her features soften into the most angelic of faces. I can see the adoration in her eyes.

Oh, Artemis…

The girl turns and rushes back into the mansion. I am not sure if I want to know…

And you lead the way, like always.

As we walk together, we talk together, just like old times. I feel his fingers playing my heartstrings like a harp, creating music that seeps from the inside of an empty room – I cannot help but stop when passing it. I relish in it, I drown in it, for I know this will be the last time he will play me like this. I want to ask him to stop, but I cannot help but long for his fingers to caress me.

"What have you been up to lately?" he asks me.

"Nothing in particular," I answer. That is the truth. "Father thinks it is time for me to find someone to marry, so I have been dating a few nice young men." That is a lie. I have been waiting for you, instead. "I have not decided on which I will choose."

The edge of his mouth twitches in his amusement. "I do not doubt you have your pick."

"As I am sure you have yours."

"I have already made my choice."

"Is it her?"

"Yes."

"Is she pregnant?" My voice mocks, but my heart pleads for a logical explanation.

He chuckles. "I have a reasonable amount of self-control when it comes to females."

Yes, I know. I smile. We tease. We joke with quantum physics and astrology. He calls me "Goddess of a Thousand Works," I call him "Hunter." We reminisce, we surmise – I read one of his recent psychology articles and I think even in his perfection he has improved. Is that possible to say? He agrees, "for unless you are improving in all things, then what is life worth?"

It is a good question. I wonder if there is an answer.

When we have silences, they are comfortable. Just enjoying each other's presence. Sitting upon the steps, watching the trees sway in the breeze, listening to the cars pass us by, taking a moment to step back and simply… remember there are others living.

I cannot help but ask about her. I want to know what she is like, I want to know why he chose her. What does she have that I do not? Why does he radiate, why does he glow? Why does he light up when he sees her? What is in her mind, in her heart, that makes him want to be in her arms…

…instead of mine?

"She makes me happy," he answers me. His eyes shift away, gazing at something I cannot see.

I am supposed to accept that? Does he expect me to lay down like a dog when he tells me to?

Can I not fight for him? Can I not change his mind? Can he not sense my hostility?

He frowns at me, as if concerned. Of course he can.

"Minerva? Is there something you want to say about this?"

Yes, Artemis. I want you to take me back. I want you, I do not want her to have you. And since when did you like girls that are so ordinary? Since when have you had an affinity for those who are not as intellectual as you? Isn't that why you used to love me?

Instead, I answer, "Just that I am happy for you. Congratulations."

He laughs, pulling a little box from his pocket. "I have not asked her. Yet, I am sure of her answer."

His words stab my heart. It hurts worse that I feel this way, for I do not want to hurt him. I look at his face, and he seems so content… with the way things are right now... And suddenly I realize that she really does make him happy. He does have a purpose to all this. I suspect that he brought me here for closure, to be able to make me know that he is taken.

Is that it? Is that the only thing? Is that the only reason why? To say we are just friends?

There is nothing to change his mind; knowing this, I do not try. Rather I struggle to think of the positive. Why throw away a friendship for a romance that does not exist? Why lose two precious loves when I can actually have one of them… and possibly gain another?

I place my hand over his and smile. "Why don't you ask her now?"

His head shakes.

"Why not? I would love to be present…"

He looks up at me; I am sitting on the step above him. He leans back and grins at me, as if he's asking me, 'really?' Yes, really, Artemis. If I cannot love you like she does, then I want to love you like I do.

"We are friends, are we not?"

Your eyes scrunch when you smile, did you know that?

"How about you go get her. I will wait here for you. We can take a walk in the garden. Hide the ring inside a flower, and give the flower to her."

He looks as if he wants to roll his eyes at my girlish antics, but he complies nonetheless. Maybe he wants to please both of us. But then again, this is Artemis I am talking about. He does nothing to please no one but himself. I think that is why I love him like I do.

When he retrieves her, she was cooking. Such a simple task for such an ordinary girl. But as we talked together as we walked, together, through the garden, I began to learn why he chose her. He slips me the box, and I dismiss myself to gather a small bouquet of flowers.

I try on the ring. I wonder if it will fit her; it does not fit me.

I find a pink rose, placing the ring inside of it, then returning to the couple when it is safe to do so – I do not want to torment myself with their exchanges of affection.

I hand them to him.

He looks at them for a moment, and hands her the pink one from the dozen I picked. He glances at me, and I nod. When he gives her the flower, he instructs her to peel away the petals.

When she finds the ring inside, she gasps. He smiles the most genuine grin I have… ever… seen in him… She cannot speak, and he does not expect her to be able to. Instead, he takes the ring from her and slips it on her ring finger – the left hand. My heart races as I watch them, wishing with my whole being that he made a mistake.

He hugs her -- it is different from the way he hugs me. His eyes close and he breathes in her scent. He seems so satisfied. I hear her sigh his name, I hear him whisper those three words I have always wished he would say to me.

I turn and leave them as they are, not bothering to brush away the silver streak down my cheek. I walk away alone, yet I am smiling.

I hear them laugh, it echoes through my mind. Yes, it is about time…