Hey . . . how long has it been? Sorry . . .

On the plus side, this chapter is of a decent length, I think. I almost wanted to hold off on releasing it and continue writing, but I realized I probably wouldn't reach another decent stopping point until a long ways off, so I decided to end it where I did.

Note: I'm American, and therefore use Fahrenheit. Sorry. I did use kilometers over miles, since the fairies do, and I have some concept of how much that is.

I won't keep you any longer, and put the rest of my notes at the end. Enjoy!

The first thing he became aware of was his pounding head; mallets were beating an unforgiving drumbeat against the inside of his skull. The sensation of feeling flowed to his mouth where he was choking on the desert on his tongue and his throat was raw and dry. His flesh sizzled like a slab of meat on a backyard grill, and Artemis shook with the desire to slip away from his own skin. His eyes cracked open.

The world was a confusing blur of light and shadow, and Artemis frowned before blinking away the remnants of haze. The world righted itself and separated.

Yet another hospital-style bed was underneath him, but he was definitely not in a hospital. Whereas before he was in a small room of smooth cinderblock walls, now he laid beside roughly hewn walls that suggested a cave. Slowly, with protesting muscles, Artemis sat up to look around.

He was in an enormous open cavern. The roof of this pocket of air in earth rose about 20 feet above Artemis's head, and continued on to his right for far longer than Artemis's vision could follow. Straight in front of him, Artemis could just barely make out another wall of the cavern about 50 yards across the sandy floor. To his left, maybe 25 yards away, was a small gray cube of metal-plated walls. A reinforced steel door and a Plexiglass window told Artemis that it was an observation room.

In Artemis's immediate vicinity, another heart monitor beeped out his vital signs, relayed from a smooth bracelet clasped tight around his wrist. He was not chained this time, free to stand and move around if he so desired. That is, if he could withstand the heat being vented into the room by the steel ducts Artemis could see dotting the walls around him. It was perhaps only 85 degrees Fahrenheit, but anything over 75 degrees was enough to make Artemis start to grow weak and ill. He wasn't quite sure why the heat affected him in such a severe manner, though he had theories about the difference between his own internal temperature (something that had been steadily dropping throughout his life) and the external temperature trying to reach thermal equilibrium.

In Ireland, the weather rarely exceeded 70 degrees, even in the summer, so it was quite easy to avoid overheating. He did of course travel, but he usually prepared in advance for extreme temperatures by carrying several handmade ice packs that could be concealed beneath his clothing and keep his body pleasantly cool. He had been carrying no such thing when he had crossed the Irish Sea and now dearly regretted such a short-sighted decision.

Artemis swayed with nausea and flopped back onto the bed, buried his face into the mattress, and groaned. So they had taken his advice about the heat. He had thought they would at some point, it was only rational, but that didn't make it any easier to bear. Heat made him feel ill in a way that nothing else could. It drained the energy from his body and smothered the remains, wringing sweat from him and stuffing his head with cotton. His throat clamped shut and every breath was a struggle. If it was possible for a human being to melt, Artemis was certain he would one day under the oppressive nature of warmth.

Quit overreacting, he barked in his mind. He wouldn't die from this. The heat would not kill him unless it was over 104 degrees, just as it would a normal human. A night in a hotel with a busted thermostat had made that clear to Artemis when he was about 9. No, the heat was no more lethal to him than it was to any Average Joe. It just made him feel sick as a dog.

His eyes drifted to his hand. For the one of the first times in his life, he was actually tempted to use his powers. He could summon a small layer of ice to cover his skin and cold water to -

NO! What on earth was he thinking?! He couldn't use his powers like that, for something so frivolous. They were dangerous. He was dangerous. If he gave even an inch, who knew how much more his powers would take? What was wrong with him? He deserved to be like this, needed to be like this. He couldn't be allowed to hurt anyone else ever again. If it took nearly knocking him out, then so be it. Whatever it took to make sure he never brought on another storm.

His fingers clenched into fists as he screwed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. Why was he even still alive? What was the point of the fairies keeping him alive at this point? He was nothing but a liability and a threat to every living thing on this planet. Surely the thought had crossed the mind of at least one person in the chain of command. It would be so easy to fire a round into his head, or poison him, or hit him with a biobomb. Why hadn't someone pulled the trigger?

Oh, wait. The C Cube. He remembered briefly mentioning it to the Commander. They would want to know what it was, and there was less than a 15% chance of Foaly getting the plans from his computer. They needed him to talk, to make sure the device that had pinged their systems was no longer a threat. Was the heat an interrogation technique as well as a safeguard? Sweat the truth out of him?

He let out a strangled chuckle at the absolutely horrible pun. God, the heat was already getting to him. He half-expected to feel his brain leaking from his ears. There was no other explanation for such a thought trying to pass itself off as a joke.

A nearly silent hiss perked Artemis's ears. He lifted his head just enough so he could see the steel door slid open and allow two small figures into the room.

Captain Short and Commander Root, his brain identified. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, doing his best to try and give some semblance of decorum, but his body continued to sway slightly as he did his best to regain the focus necessary for conversation.

Several questions he wanted to ask rumbled around his mind, but what fell out was, "Where am I?"

"Welcome to Ground Zero, Fowl." Root shifted his stance, and Artemis picked up the extra padding on the suits both he and Holly wore. Protection. From his ice? They weren't taking any chances. An exhausted kind of relief fell numbly into his stomach. Good.

"Ground Zero? A bomb site?" A good choice. An area designed to contain explosions from hurting civilians or spectators. No doubt the walls and ceiling were all reinforced with supports and steel plating.

"Yep. Where the original bio-bombs were tested all those decades ago. The plan was to turn the place into a new enclave for the People but -" Root shrugged.

Artemis stiffened. Bio-bombs? Blue rinses had been set off here? His eyes quickly scanned the room again, as if he would now see the signs of the deadly radiation now that he knew what had happened.

"Yeah, that." Root nodded, seeing the expression on his face. "You say the words 'bio-bomb' or 'blue rinse' and all potential inhabitants go up in smoke."

"Don't worry," Holly spoke, "the levels are back down to normal, or so Foaly says. Considering it was almost a home for the People, it should be fine for you, Mud Boy."

Artemis just nodded, though, too mentally tired to give much more care. Hadn't he just been thinking a blue rinse was in order right about now? A part of him mentally shook at the blasé nature he was applying to his health, but it was only a small voice, and Artemis was beginning to feel so worn. The constant drugging wasn't helping his mental state much either. Everything was so fuzzy and uncertain in his head, and the grief and discomfort he was feeling was weighing heavy on his heart. It made for a truly frightening combination in terms of his will to survive.

"I assume you are here to ask about the device that detected your systems," Artemis huffed.

"Yes." Root ground out, looking a bit peeved. Most likely at the fact that they had had to come ask him, rather than just rely on Foaly's hacking skills.

"It was called the C-Cube. I had made it . . ." Artemis trailed off. Why had he made it? To extort money from Jon Spiro. Not to release to the world like he had threatened to do, just to scare Spiro into handing over a ton of gold and buying into the Fowl business, simultaneously increasing the worth of his business and destroying that of one of his main competitor in the communications market. That was it.

And Butler had paid the price.

"Fowl." Root snapped his fingers in Artemis's face, derailing Artemis's train of thought. "Focus."

"Yes, sorry. I apologize." Artemis shook his head, wincing at the headache that action fueled. "I had no intention of actually selling it, nor did I know it was capable of breaking through your encryptions. I would have never shown such capabilities in a public setting had I known that."

"You've told us that already!" Root snapped. "Where is it? We know it's not on you, so where is it?"

Artemis took a second to think and shivered, despite the heat pressing down on him. "Jon Spiro was the last person to have it. If - if you're right about - about London, then you'd probably find it on - on his body, if it hasn't been destroyed completely." Spiro was most likely dead. On that note, so was Arno Blunt. Artemis didn't know how to feel about the fact that it was by his own hand.

Root scowled. "Great."

"I can track it." Artemis blurted. "There's a program on my phone." Artemis began patting his chest, praying that it had not been destroyed in all the chaos. It had not; the innocuous black case Artemis had personally designed had protected the marvelous piece of technology from the extreme temperatures. Artemis quickly unlocked the phone and pulled up the C-Cube's tracker. Even underground, by piggybacking off of Foaly's own signals, the phone quickly connected with the satellites and began pinpointing the C-Cube's location. The signal was weak, but eventually the phone indicated an address a couple of blocks away from the restaurant where everything had happened.

So Spiro was dead.

Shaking away the thought, Artemis screen-shot the GPS coordinates and emailed it to Foaly.

"There." Artemis breathed. "I sent the coordinates to Foaly."

The sudden unfocusing of Root's eyes as he stared at something in his helmet that Artemis could not see suggested that Root already knew that. The commander began barking out orders to a person Artemis could not hear (most likely Foaly), stopping several times to scowl and change them, then growl and change them again, muttering something about a "stupid centaur distracted by who-knows-what".

While Root was putting together a group of fairies to retrieve the technology, Artemis could feel Holly's eyes on him. He turned his head to meet her eyes. She was examining him with a critical gaze, and Artemis was hyper-aware of the sweat dripping down his forehead and neck, the slouch of his back, and the swaying of his body.

"Are you feeling alright?" The elf asked bluntly. "We turned the heat on."

"I noticed," Artemis commented dryly. "I shall be fine." Well, that wasn't quite true, but what was he supposed to say? Actually, no, I'm feeling quite terrible, and while I doubt it would kill me, I've never tested it. Would you mind turning the heat done so I can regain my health and potentially destroy all of Haven with my out of control powers? Yeah, that would go over well.

"If you need it turned down, we can do that. We just wanted to make sure we could hold back the ice long enough to talk to you."

"'Hold the ice back'?" Artemis frowned at the phrasing. 'Hold it back'? Containment, not eradication?

"Well, yeah. You said it melts at a rate natural to the temperature around, and that you didn't really like the heat, so we thought that turning up the heat would at least slow down the process long enough to ask about the C-Cube and get out." Holly narrowed her eyes at the Mud Boy. "When we leave, we can lower the temperature."

Artemis looked at her oddly, and Holly couldn't tell what he was thinking (not that that was anything new).

"Why would you do that?" He finally said.

"Why?" Holly echoed. "So you aren't broiled alive. You look awful, Mud Boy." She wasn't lying. Artemis's face was flushed, and she could see sweat pouring off his forehead. The tattered suit he wore was damp and rumpled, and clung to him unnaturally. She could see him sway where he sat, and she wouldn't be surprised if he collapsed back against the bed. He looked ill.

Artemis just continued to stare. "Why?" He asked again, as if her answer wasn't a real answer. "Why do you care? Why would you want me alive now? You have what you came for. As of now, I'm nothing more than a liability, so why would I not expect you to simply shoot me?"

. . . What? Holly opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Did - did Artemis just -

"You think we're going to kill you?" She finally found her voice.

Artemis simply gave her a flat look. "If you are done with the C-Cube, there is no reason for me to still be living. Alive, I am nothing but a problem. Dead, you are assured that nothing like London will happen again, to either Haven or another human city."

The fact that that made sense sent chills down Holly's spine. She hadn't thought of that, hadn't even considered the option of simply killing Fowl, but she knew the Council well enough to know that someone or multiple someones would come up with the idea and push to make it happen.

"Except we don't kill people, Fowl." Root had finally finished his conversation with Foaly and was now directing his eyes to the human.

"A bio-bomb launched at my home says otherwise." Artemis retorted.

"You purposefully instigated that plan of attack, and that game is over now. You haven't drawn us into a game since, so we can't and won't touch you." Root ground out. "Believe or not, Mud Boy, but the People don't immediately leap to killing as the be-all, end-all tactic."

Artemis didn't seem impressed by Root's defense of his species. "I would bet gold that your government is willing to say that my powers count as magic, and therefore makes me a magical being that the People as a whole has custody over. I'm sure that you have executed trolls in the past that became far too deadly to the general public."

Holly couldn't help but shiver. Artemis was right. She could vividly remember the Troll Massacres of 1236 she had learned about in school, when several trolls formed an especially vicious pack and terrorized the outskirts of Haven for weeks. After several gruesome failures to subdue them, the Council had finally authorized lethal measures, and the LEPRecon and LEPRetrieval teams of the day found the pack's lair and killed every last one. How much easier would it be to successfully argue for the execution of Artemis Fowl, a human now more dangerous than ever before in the eyes of the People?

Artemis nodded. "I will not pretend that my head is not on the chopping block. You may not have plans now, but how long will it take for someone to wonder why you are harboring the monster responsible for the destruction of London in the very breakable city of Haven?"

"We're not in Haven." Neither Holly nor Artemis missed the way Root dodged the real question. "You're about 50 klicks away. You really think that we would set up a bomb-testing facility so close to the general population? Back in Russia, you used up your power and were fine for the rest of the journey. I thought you could do the same here."

Artemis's expression twisted. "That was a year ago."

"So?"

"So, my powers have been growing exponentially stronger ever since. Did you miss the difference between freezing a train car and freezing downtown London? I have limits, of course, but I have no idea what those are. You also may have noticed that it did not take long for me to regain even a fraction of those powers. I would even hazard to guess that I never even depleted them, and it was only your drugs that kept me from immediately freezing Captain Short."

Artemis was gripping the sides of the raised cot, sweat rolling down his face and plastering his hair to his skin. His eyes were hard as he glared at the two fairies. "I don't know what my powers will do if you turn the heat off. I don't know if this -" he waved a hand, and nearly toppled over doing so, "will be enough. Alive, I'm not safe."

" . . . You're certainly doing your best to convince us of that." Holly finally said, words prompted by a feeling creeping over her. Something wasn't right here, with Artemis. Something more than grief.

His eyes flashed towards her. "What?"

Holly spoke slowly, pondering over each word even as she spoke them. "This is the most coherent and rational you've been all day, and the only thing you've talked about is how we are going to kill you. How we should kill you."

Artemis didn't respond. His jaw tensed minutely, and he looked slightly away from Holly's eyes.

"Captain Short -" Root began to say.

Holly stepped closer to Artemis. He flinched back, but said nothing as she stood in front of him.

"You want us to kill you." Her voice was low. "This entire time, you've been emphasizing that the Council is going to kill you, and you haven't given one reason as to why we shouldn't, haven't tried to play any kind of tricks. That's not like you, Fowl. You want us to kill you."

Her hands were trembling. Why were they trembling?

"I expect to be killed." Artemis corrected, still not looking at her. "Why wouldn't I be? Isn't that what they do to murderers? To monsters?"

"You're not a murderer. You -"

"Do not - lie to me." Artemis panted, body shivering. "I got Butler killed, and in my temper I killed who knows how many more innocent people. I killed innocent men and women and children because I was upset. If that doesn't make a murderer, Captain, then what would?" Finally he met her eyes again, daring her to argue.

Her hands were still shaking. She curled her hands into fists to stop them. "It was an accident. You said it yourself that you didn't mean it."

"That doesn't make it better!" Artemis snapped, his shaky composure finally breaking as he launched from the hospital cot. He landed unsteadily on his feet and was forced to grip the side of the bed to keep himself upright, his legs shaking underneath his weight. "It doesn't matter what my intentions were; I killed them! I was selfish and petty and thousands have suffered because of it. I am a murderer, Holly Short, a monster! Why should I be allowed to live?"

He took another wobbly step forward. Holly was now close enough to feel the unhealthy heat radiating from Artemis' body, and she wondered how he could find the strength to stand while looking so ill.

"Easy there, Fowl." Root had hung back so far in their conversation, but now he stepped forward. "You don't look too good."

Artemis stiffened. "I ask again, why do you care? If it is out of some sense of moral duty, I can assure you, chaining the monster is the correct course of action. The heat will most likely not kill me."

"Most likely?" Root pounced on the words. "You don't know?"

"I sincerely doubt that it would." Artemis rephrased. "It is not something I have cared to test extensively." But still, he backtracked, grip returning to the bed frame. His legs felt like jello, and he was unsure of how much longer he could remain standing.

He looked back at Holly, who was shaking slightly, and he felt another small rush of guilt for his outburst. Could he do nothing right today?

"I apologize, Holly. I should not have shouted at you like that." He slid himself back onto the bed, unable to stand much longer. His head was aching, and it was getting harder and harder to concentrate. Despite spending more time in the last 12 hours unconscious than aware, he was exhausted and desperate for this day, for this nightmare, to be over, in one way or another.

"But you believe the things you said?" Holly's head was bowed, her eyes hooded.

Artemis swallowed. "I believe that the People will wish for me to be executed. I believe that that may be the correct choice. It would be better for everyone." How could he not think that? How could he justify sparing his life? There was nothing that could possibly be done to fix this, to return those lives that he had stolen. This may not even be the end of the destruction. If he ever lost control again, the body count could very well become astronomical before anyone could stop him. Why on earth would he protest the execution of a monster?

. . . Did he want to die?

. . . Not particularly. But he also did not particularly wish to live at this point either, and he was certain many others no doubt shared the same opinion. All he wanted right now was for this to be over.

Holly's hands were clenching and unclenching. "So that's it? You're not going to try to fight back? Just roll over and accept it and let yourself be killed?"

"Short -" Root began warningly, but like she always did, Holly plowed forward.

"You're just going to give up? Not even try to make amends? Since when did the great boy genius Artemis Fowl the Second back down?"

"What could make up for what I've done? Tell me. Holly. How could I fix this? I am a genius and a freak, not a god." Artemis scoffed bitterly. This was not a problem that could be swept under the rug or fixed with a quickly written check. This was the weight of thousands of lives on his soul. How could he be expected to carry that?

He was a monster, and monsters were slain. That's how the world worked.

"You D'Arviting cowpog!" Holly swore in Gnommish, shaking with what Artemis now guessed to be anger. "I'm not asking you to resurrect the dead. You say you're a threat alive, but you're no use to anyone dead! You let yourself die now, and the only thing you've done is kill. How would your death fix that?"

"I wouldn't be hurting anyone else." Artemis said shakily.

"Do you really think that's true?" Holly glared. "What about your parents? Are you just gonna let them needlessly grieve for you?"

Artemis startled. His parents . . . he had almost forgotten about them. Surely they knew about London by now; they must be worried sick trying to find him, trying to figure out what had happened. They had only recently been reunited as a family. How would his parents take it if, merely months after they became whole again, he tore himself away from them?

No. No, they would understand. What had his father asked of him just weeks before? 'Will you make the journey with me? When the moment comes, will you take your chance to be a hero?' This was his chance; heroes slayed monsters, and this was his chance to kill the monster. Father, at least, would understand, wouldn't he?

But Mother . . . her health had become so fragile when Father had disappeared. Would it deteriorate the same way upon his passing?

She will be fine, he brusquely told himself. She would have Father, and Father would be able to get her proper medical help without fear of Child Services breathing down his neck. Mother would be fine, Father would be fine, they would be fine . . . wouldn't they?

As if sensing his sudden hesitance, Holly pressed her advantage, stepping forward, almost managing to loom over his slumped form. "And what about Juliet? She deserves to know what happened to her brother, doesn't she? Or are you just going to let her sit and wonder what happened to him?"

A shiver. Juliet. She was currently in the middle of who-knows-where, training with Butler's Sensei, Madame Ko, but eventually she would hear about London. She would connect the dots to him, and immediately jet back to Fowl Manor to find . . . no one. Not Butler, not him, not even his parents. She would be left without answers until his parents made contact - and who knew when that might be - and informed her that Butler hadn't been seen since London. That he had vanished right alongside Artemis, and was mostly in the same shape. Dead.

But there would always be that nagging at Juliet, just like there had been with him. That he was not dead, that he couldn't be dead. She would not believe it until she had a body, and that may not happen for years, may not ever happen. Juliet would suffer the same way he had when he waited for his father. He . . . He couldn't do that to Juliet. He owed her that much.

"I could -"

But Holly wasn't going to let him talk.

"And speaking of Butler, are you just going to dishonor him like that?" Holly growled. Artemis flinched. What - ?

"He gave his life so that you could live, you said that yourself, and you're going to waste that by letting yourself be killed not even 24 hours later? Without so much as even giving him a proper burial before you spit on his sacrifice?" She grabbed his shoulder tightly. "What kind of - !"

"Short!" Root snatched her arm and yanked her away from Fowl. "That's enough! Stand down!" The Mud Boy was pale and shaking even harder than before, very at odds with the sweat staining his clothes and skin and the curve of his back. Root probably should have cut the Captain off sooner, he knew her past, but he had thought that she might be able to knock some sense into the human. She may have, too. But the way she went at it, he could tell she had gone too far.

"Holly, go wait in the observation chamber."

"But Commander -!"

"NOW, SHORT! That's an order!" Root roared.

Short scowled at him, but turned and went to the steel-incased room. Root resisted the urge to sigh and put his head in his hands. He was going to have to have a word with her soon. He went back to Fowl, who seemed to have slightly regained the composure he had lost at Holly's outburst.

"We have Butler's body." Surprise flared in the human's eyes. "We retrieved it right after we got you. We can make . . . arrangements, if you want. If there's anything specific you have in mind, Foaly might be able to make it happen. If you cooperate."

Fowl nodded, not quite looking him in the eyes. "I understand, Commander. Thank you." For once, Root was certain the boy was actually sincere.

"As for what happens next," Root did sigh this time, "as of now, there is no proposal to have you killed yet. I guarantee there will be at least one who will objects when it comes up, though," he could think of a couple, actually, "and the Council needs a unanimous agreement to carry out an execution. So don't expect to be throwing yourself at the gallows anytime soon."

Fowl didn't say a word, just continued to nod his understanding. "I upset Captain Short, didn't I." He said matter-of-factly, taking any hint of a question out of his words.

"It's not my place to say." He didn't particularly want to discuss it with anyone, much less the Mud Boy that was flipping back and forth between threat and victim so fast it made Root's head ache. Frond, he wanted a cigar. "Let's leave it at she's had some bad experiences with people sacrificing themselves for what they think is the greater good."

Curiosity flicked across Fowl's face, but he did not pursue it. "Alright. I suppose I can understand that. Give her my apologies."

Root nodded sharply. "Get some rest. You look like death warmed over." And with that, Root took his leave.

Holly was waiting in the observation room just as he had asked, leaning her back against one of the walls. At the hiss of the door, she stood at attention, ramrod straight. She didn't wait for Root to say anything.

"I'm sorry, sir. I overstepped my boundaries."

Root gestured for her to walk with him as they made their way to the cavern entrance, where their shuttle waited. "Is that so, Short?"

"Yes, sir. I shouldn't have grabbed or yelled at Fowl. I knew he would feel guilty. I knew he probably wouldn't be at his most mentally stable. Hearing him trying to rag us into killing him, though, I couldn't help but shout at him."

"Hmm." Root rumbled non-committedly. "He reminded you of your father, didn't he?"

Holly flushed. "Yes, sir." She mumbled. "He had that same look on his face when he turned down the cure. Claimed he was already too far gone for it to work, that it would be better to pass it on to someone who needed it more, someone who had people who needed them." The younger elf's fingers curled to fists. "He was lying. He would have lived if he had gotten that cure. He didn't care about helping someone else, he just didn't want to keep living without my mother when there was such an easy way out right there in front of him. He didn't even think that I -!"

She cut herself off, cheeks growing red with embarrassment. "Sorry, sir. You already know all this."

Root brushed off the apology. "You know Fowl's situation is different."

"I do." Holly said shortly.

Root waited.

" . . . I didn't like him before all this, sir, and I don't know if I do now. I do know, though, that I feel sorry for him." Holly said honestly. "I don't think he deserves to die, especially when he has people waiting for him on the surface."

"Then what do you think should be done with him?" Root asked, genuinely curious of what her answer would be. He had been tossing around the same question himself for the last few hours, and had come up with only a handful of answers, none of which he was sure of getting through the Council.

Holly mulled it over. ". . . I think he needs training. It may not be magic that he can do, but maybe the warlocks can at least teach him how to better manage the power. I mean, it's probably a miracle that he managed to keep from doing this before now. All that raw power ready to be released at the first hint of anger or grief? It's a wonder he hasn't frozen half of Ireland by now."

"That's going to be a hard sell." Root mused, inwardly turning over the implications of being able to put a harness on Fowl and, at the same time, gain a favor with the devious Mud Boy.

"Well, it's that or really killing him. Sir." Holly huffed. "We can't just let him go like this, especially if Fowl is right about his powers getting stronger and stronger. If we don't do something, the next time he goes off we might not be able to stop him." She shivered slightly. "It was bad enough trying to get through that blizzard now; if he gets much stronger, we might not be able to navigate it at all."

"He's really that powerful?" The question was rhetorical. He had seen what Fowl could do if he was trying in the Artic, and he had seen the footage of what Fowl could do if he let everything out all at once. He was powerful, frighteningly so, and suddenly Root wasn't so certain that an order to execute would be as difficult to pass as he had thought earlier.

"Well then, we'd better get working on your proposal. Gather our allies on the Council and convince them that training Fowl is our best option. You know," Root mused, "I bet if we let the eggheads under Foaly and the warlocks poke at him, we could get their backing. This is like nothing I've ever read about in the Book. They'll be dying to figure out what makes Fowl tick." Now that he thought about it, Section 8 would probably love to study the Mud Boy, and with their pull . . . Yes, it would be smart to contact Wing Commander Vinyaya. With a little work, she could probably get the Mud Boy classified under Section 8 jurisdiction.

"You think Fowl would agree to that?" Holly asked skeptically as they approached the shuttle.

Root clambered up the shuttle stairs. "He may not have a choice."

Foaly was waiting for them at Police Plaza. Never a good sign; Foaly rarely left the safety of his Ops Booth.

"What's the situation, Foaly?" Root immediately barked.

Foaly dodged the question, waving for them to follow him as he walked down the hall. "Trust me, you'll have to see it to believe it."

"What happened?" Holly asked as she picked up her pace to keep up with the centaur's long strides.

"I was going through the security camera footage, trying to see if the camera had caught anything more of the snowstorm, when a thought occurred to me. Artemis was found leaning over Butler, and Butler was completely frozen solid."

"Your point, Foaly?" Root huffed as Foaly led them down a stairwell into the basement.

"I wondered if that meant that Butler was the first thing in the room to be frozen, if Butler had instantly been frozen. If that was true, then I thought there might be a chance that . . ." Foaly trailed off as he started checking the room numbers.

"Chance that what?"

"There was nothing to lose, so I called in some of the warlocks and - well, see for yourselves." Foaly stopped in front of a door and quickly punched in a code.

The door slid open to reveal what was clearly originally meant to be a storage room. Shelves filled with odds and ends of old police and recon equipment lined the walls. More junk had been shoved into the corners of the room to clear a large open space for what seemed to be a makeshift mattress on the floor, made from pillows, shock blankets, and whatever other soft fabric that could be found in the building. An IV, heart monitor, and other medical monitoring equipment was placed next to the pile of fabric, and a slight pixie in a medical uniform was perched on one of the storage containers, making notes on her clipboard.

Lying on the quickly constructed mattress was the very much unfrozen body of Butler. A body that, according to the heart monitor, had a pulse.

"There wasn't a bed or cri-med room big enough for him." Foaly needlessly commented.

Holly couldn't believe her eyes. She blinked several times, convinced that she was seeing something wrong. "But that's - that's not possible. He's dead! He was shot, and frozen solid! How can he be alive?!"

"It was because he was frozen," the pixie in the corner slid back down to the floor and walked up to the three, "that he was able to live, Captain Short. Chief Warlock Dia Antimony, at your service." She shook hands Holly and Root.

"I would appreciate it if you could answer Captain Short's question. How in the name of Frond is he alive?" Root looked like he had a migraine coming on. Holly didn't blame him. How many more times would a bombshell be dropped on them today? First Artemis's ice powers, then Butler's death, then Artemis's mental breakdowns, now Butler was alive again? Holly's head hurt just thinking about it.

"Ah, you see, right before your Mud Man was frozen, he was only clinically dead. Clinical death and death-death, called brain death, are two very different things. During clinical death, the patients major bodily functions, such as their breathing and heartbeat, cease, but their brains are still active to some extent. The clinically dead are only mostly dead - which means they are slightly alive." Antimony smiled slightly.

"Now, normally clinical death is followed by brain death within minutes. Brain cells don't last very long after the body stops working, and the rest of the organs will usually give out shortly after. However, when the temperature of cells is lowered sufficiently, the metabolisms of the cells slows down, giving the cells more time before they die, like how food takes longer to go bad if it's frozen. It's pretty much the same situation here. If he hadn't been frozen immediately after clinical death, then yes, the Mud Man would very much be dead, but his body was almost perfectly preserved. We'll have to wait until he wakes up to be certain, but I'd say it's likely he took little to no brain damage."

She smiled disarmingly at Root. "And I am very curious to know where exactly you got a frozen Mud Man and why my team worked so hard to revive him."

Root was not amused. "Well, keep wondering."

"Let me rephrase." Her smile vanished. "I want to know why my team worked hard to revive Butler, a known associate of Artemis Fowl, and widely considered a threat to the safety of the People."

Holly blinked. "You know who he is?"

"I was a medic on the scene of the Fowl Manor siege, Captain Short." Antimony explained. "You didn't need my assistance, so I hung back. But I've done my research. I know who this is," her green eyes flickered to the unconscious bodyguard, "and I want to know how he got in this situation and why the People are aiding him."

Root let out a low puff of air that could have been a sigh or a growl. "I wasn't aware he was in need of aid until a few moments ago." He turned on Foaly. "Why didn't you pass this through me first?"

"Time was of the essence, Commander. Even frozen, those brain cells won't last forever. It had already been hours since Butler went under. Honestly, I'm surprised it actually worked." Foaly defended.

Root clenched and unclenched his fists, let out something that was definitely a growl, then turned back to Warlock Antimony. "This wasn't how I planned on contacting your faction, but I was going to talk to the warlocks on something top secret within the hour anyway. You said you're Chief Warlock? High enough up the food chain to make decisions, or at least have the ear of whoever's in charge?"

"You're looking at the big fish in the pond." From Antimony's grin, that fish was a shark.

"Does he need medical supervision, or will anyone watching him do?"

"Anyone will do until the next round of IV drips in a couple hours." Antimony confirmed. "He'll most likely be out for a few days anyway, so there's not much to watch."

"Short, sit with Butler, make sure he stays alive. Foaly, go back to the Ops booth and do your actual job. Keep an eye on Fowl and the Mud Men topside. Warlock Antimony, if you would come with me to somewhere more appropriate? We have a lot to discuss."

Root and Antimony exited, quickly followed out by Foaly. Holly climbed on top of the storage container that Antimony had recently been occupying. She resisted the urge to reach out and touch Butler. She knew he was real; in the quiet, she could hear him breathing. It was surreal, though. She had just come to terms with the fact that Butler was dead. 50 kilometers away, Artemis was grieving over him. But here the Mud Man was, alive and, well, not kicking, but in far better shape than he had been hours before.

Artemis. When he heard the news . . . this could be a game-changer.

Settling into a comfortable position, Holly began to keep her watch over Butler.

"A Mud Man with the power to create ice and snow from nothing?" Antimony frowned skeptically from where she sat in the chair across from Root's desk. "Commander, is there a polite way to ask if you think I'm a gullible idiot?"

"We have proof; all of London is proof, actually." Root flipped the monitor to face the warlock. The human news site CNN was showing live footage of the rescue efforts being carried out. In the bottom corner, recaps of captured footage of the storm played.

The warlock cocked her head. That wasn't exactly proof that Fowl had anything to do with it.

"We also have video of his brief containment here in the Plaza." Root typed in a few commands and brought up the file. On-screen, Antimony could see Fowl and Captain Short talking in a hospital room. Fowl seemed to be agitated, shaking visibly and nervously nursing a glass of water. Then -

Kssh! The glass in Fowl's hands exploded into shards of ice and powdered snow. Antimony's eyes widened as she watch Fowl proceed to freeze and break the chain to his bed and scramble away from Captain Short, covering the bed and filling the air with snow as he did so.

"Thought that would get your attention." Root said gruffly, shutting the computer off.

"Alright," Antimony began, her voice betraying none of the curiosity and excitement that was beginning to well up inside her, "let's say that this isn't a hoax and I believe you. What do you want from me?"

"Nothing but your support. You've seen what Fowl can do; the People are not going to want to just let him go, especially when he knows about our existence. As he stands right now, he's a threat to every living thing on this planet."

"So, what? You want me to argue to mind-wipe him?" Because she could already tell the Commander that that was not going to happen.

"No. It is my opinion, and Captain Short's, that more than anything, Fowl needs to be taught control. Mind-wiping him won't stop the possibility of something like this happening again. London was a result of Fowl losing control of his powers when Butler was . . . wounded. As far as I can see, there are only two options. We either make sure he learns to control his powers, or we kill him."

"Absolutely not." Antimony protested. "That goes against every rule in the Book. He hasn't engaged with us specifically; as far as the Book is concerned, we have no right to harm him."

"Fowl himself made the argument that with his abilities, the Council could classify him as a magical creature, putting him in our jurisdiction." Root chomped at the end of a (thankfully) unlit cigar. "I can't say I don't see that happening."

"That's ridiculous. Powers or not, he's human."

Root nodded. "Despite my past with the Mud Boy, I don't want him dead. We're not killers. I'd like to know if you'd be willing to support a proposal to keep Fowl under observation and teach him how to control himself."

Antimony leaned forward in her chair. "That's a bold proposal. It'll probably be more difficult to pass than an execution order."

"Is that a no?"

"Of course not. What kind of medical professional would I be if I condoned such an act? What I want to know is if you have a plan, because you're going to need one to win over the Council. You said it yourself; Fowl is a security threat. To teach him, I'm going to need constant access to him, and that means a lot of time spent here in Haven."

Root gave her a stare. "Who said anything about you teaching him?"

"That's what you wanted to speak with the warlocks about, right? Getting one of us to teach him? I won't pretend that I'm not extremely curious about how exactly his powers work. They certainly aren't like any magic I've studied before; this kind of ability is straight out of elfling tales. If I teach him, I get to study him. As a scientist, it's a dream come true."

It would be an absolute waste, in Antimony's opinion, to kill Fowl. Not only a waste of precious life, but a horrible way to treat one of the greatest magical mysteries since Frond himself. If there was one thing Antimony loved, it was mysteries. She could vividly remember hours pouring over every single mystery novel she could find on the Ethernet, and days in school completely dedicated to researching magical anomalies for her thesis papers. This was her chance to finally meet one of those mysteries herself, to have her shot at unraveling the truth. The thought was almost too good to be true.

She had no love for humans, and she couldn't claim any sentiment to Fowl. However, she would never agree to killing a sentient being. She would not let the Mud Boy be executed, not when there was so much he could offer to the world. Not when there was so much to learn from him.

"I was counting on that." Root admitted. "As for a plan, I have a few ideas. Do you want to go over them?"

Antimony smiled. "I would like that very much."

So . . . a few things.

1) Artemis. I hope I didn't make him so completely out of character. The Artemis I'm writing in this version is far more emotional than canon!Artemis anyway, and I figured under so many different negative influences (the guilt of Butler and London, the constant drugging, the heat making him sick), he would not be doing very well mentally, and that would take him to some logical extremes. I don't think he would want to do, but he's exhausted and would think it might be for the greater good to stop himself before something else happens.

2) Holly's father. I couldn't find any cause of death, just that it was about 20 years before, and I think the timing would probably work out for him to have died in the Spelltropy epidemic that happened a few years after Holly's mother died.

3) The science. So after doing extensive research (Read: rewatching MatPat's Frankenstein/resurrecting the dead video), I figured that it should be scientifically possible for Butler to be revived . . . if the time line had been a bit shorter. But Colfer was pushing with his own timeline, and this is freaking magic, so I feel justified. I also tried to science Artemis not feeling well in the heat, but please remember I take mainly Bio classes, and have not studied heat transfer since middle school, so I could be wrong.

4) My OC. She may or may not become important, so what do you guys think? We don't really know many fairy doctors (Argon and the other guy (Columbus?) are psychiatrists, which are fairly different), so I made a warlock character, as they would be qualified to monitor Artemis' powers and teach him tricks on how to control it. So what do you think?

Okay, moving on from the paragraphs of author's notes, what do you think in general? Too angsty? Too OOC? A character you wanted to see not get enough screentime? This chapter definitely could have been better, in my opinion. Comment, rant, like, flame in the box below, and I'll see you next time in the Kalos region.

-Seidr