A Root and Growl

Summary: Artemis and his diminutive friends have returned from Hybras, to find they've lost three years. Three years that everybody else seems to have been living at an exaggerated rate. And of course, just when life starts to right itself after the sudden reappearance of everybody's favourite double act, Artemis gets an idea. But don't worry, he's only going to hide it from his closest Elfin friend.

Author's Note: Hey there! Remember me? (What do you mean, no?) Well. It's the final installment of A Root and Growl, and quite oddly, the reason I wrote it in the first place (You'll see why it's odd once you've read it). But you don't want to listen to me prattle, do you? For the final time, it's on with the show!

Artemis was having a hard time keeping up with Foaly. Physically, anyway. Mentally, he was miles ahead.

"So you took the three demon warlocks - the only three demon warlocks in existence - and one of the most decorated officers in the LEP on a joyride to three years ago, just to save Root?"

The boy nodded, head drooping dangerously.

"Just imagine what sort of rescue operation you'd launch to save me!"

"I'd love to, Foaly, but I think the LEP might spend a little too much on the celebratory party following your death for me to do anything worthwhile."

Foaly pulled his lips back from his teeth in a snarl, but there was no menace in it.

"Watch it, Mud Boy. I still get to pilot you back up the chute, and I might be a little...adventurous with my flying."

Something must have flickered across Artemis's face: a hint of uneasiness, or some other emotion, usually suppressed but brought to the surface in the face of his drained energy. Whatever it was, Foaly clipped him playfully on the shoulder and said in what he must have thought was a rousing sort of voice, "don't worry, Fowl. I'll give you a free pass this time. Not everybody saves an LEP Commander, you know."

Artemis winced much more than he should have done at the knock to his shoulder, but continued, doggedly, towards the egg-shaped shuttle waiting in the dock for him. The centaur sighed. What was it about humans and pain?

Ambassador's Shuttle, Halfway up E37

The first half-hour in the shuttle passed in a blur of exhaustion and post-flare rattles. Artemis came to after a particularly large eddy of air knocked his right arm and sent a bolt of pain ricocheting through his shoulder.

Enough's enough. Artemis decided, inwardly marvelling that he had finally reached a level of tiredness that surpassed his grasp on vocabulary. He rolled the sleeve of his dirt-encrusted shirt up, past his elbow and over halfway up his upper arm.

"D'Arvit."

Foaly, who had, uncharacteristally, remained silent to let Artemis rest a little, crackled over the intercom, cocky as ever. "Taking our swearwords now, Fowl? Is nothing sacred?"

Artemis hastily rolled down his sleeve. "Sorry, Foaly. My Mother doesn't tolerate...standard...swearwords in the manor. I have had to...borrow some."

"How many criminal geniuses are still scared of their mothers?"

The boy grinned. "Any who know what's good for them."

"Yeah yeah yeah. Now, are you going to tell me what made you swear like an Atlantean Sub-pilot near a giant squid?"

"Hmm...," the boy flicked his arm out in an unnecessarily showy manner, "I suppose I could, although you may accuse me of stealing again."

Foaly rolled his eyes. "Okay, I'm sorry. Now will you tell me?"

Artemis rolled up his sleeve once again, pulling it over the affected area of skin with the same teasing slowness of an artist unveiling his latest masterpiece.

"Cool ta..." Foaly trailed off. "That's not a tattoo, is it?"

The Irish boy stroked the raised bumps of skin on his upper arm curiously. They were still warm, and glowing slightly from the residual magic. "I think they're from No.1's chest. It'll be interesting to see if they have any effects other than the superficial."

"Call it what you will, Mud Boy," the centaur drawled, slowly terminating the computer link. "I think your mother's going to flip."

The rest of the journey was, to Artemis's immense relief, taken in silence. He decided it would be safer to test out his potential new magic abilities later, out of the watching eyes of the centaur.

The door slid open, bringing the odd smell of sulphur-laced tunnel air flooding in to the egg-shaped pod. Artemis stepped out, legs suddenly shaky as the exertion his body had been put through, both physically and emotionally, finally caught up with him.

He managed to navigate through the still rather desolate shuttle port without major incident, although the ever-present feeling of Foaly watching him on the CCTV cameras nestled in the shadows did not help his already flagging concentration.

Finally, in an attempt to break the unnerved feeling creeping up his spine in the silence, he spoke to the air, loud enough to ensure it was picked up on the centaur's microphones.

"So, how're things with Caballine?"

Artemis could almost hear the centaur's embarrassed shuffling. A horrible thought struck the boy. What if something he did in the past affected Foaly's one shot at a healthy relationship?

"Well...ever since Epona was born -,"

Though the Irish teenager knew that some sort of inner secret was about to be shared with him, he had to interrupt.

"You're a father?"

"Yes...to a weanling. Artemis, you were there at her presentation ceremony! You said she'd better have Caballine's looks otherwise there was no hope for her."

Artemis smiled. Foaly was a father. More than that, he himself had been invited to his daughter's presentation ceremony.

Foaly's voice crackled back over the speakers. "From where you came from...your future...I don't have kids?"

"I don't even think you got married." He said, as gently as he could.

"Huh."

There seemed to be no inflection in that noise. Artemis debated some rousing words about leaving the past where it belonged, but decided that no matter what his mental state, a speech peppered with clichés would be a low he was not prepared to sink to. Instead he said, "I think you would make an excellent father. Embarrassing, though."

Foaly laughed. "The light's green, Fowl. I think you'd better leave before Butler begins to smash the pillar of a rather important French bridge."

They had reached the door without knowing it. Artemis felt an unfamiliar tickling of apprehension in his gut. He had not expected people's lives to change as much as they had from the time he had returned to from Hybras. What if he went home expecting to see his twin brothers drawing on the 18th century wallpaper, and found his parents had gotten divorced? What if Butler had gotten married, too?

"Artemis?"

"All right, Foaly. Wish me luck."

The centaur snorted. Ah well. Some things never change.

The Irish boy stepped through the arch into the underbelly of the Parisian nighttime. As the door closed with a pneumatic hiss, and Foaly terminated the topside link, Artemis could swear he heard a mumbled 'thank you'.

Barbé au Papa Café, Paris, 10 p.m.

Butler was cold.

He was never usually cold. His sheer bulk meant that he was naturally normally warmer than most other people, but tonight, he could barely suppress the chatter in his teeth. Worse still, he noticed several Parisian teenagers walking past on their way to various clubs, wearing little more than bandages around their more indecent parts. Old man, he thought, hand unconsciously straying to the Kevlar strands in his chest, soon I'll be complaining about the rate of taxes and how young people don't know the meaning of work.

However, despite the cold in his chest, not aided by the cold café au lait served to him almost an hour ago, he was determined to sit in that exact spot for as long as it took for Master Artemis to rematerialise.

As far as that plan went, it didn't take the boy long to turn up. Butler had to marvel at the fairy technology. If he hadn't known specifically where to look, Artemis would had seemingly appeared out of thin air, a few feet from the land-based pillar underneath the French bridge.

The manservant stood up, throwing an inexact number of euros onto the al fresco table. Incidentally, it was more money than the apathetic French girl who served him would see in a year, but Butler was concentrating solely on the protection of his young Master.

Artemis reappeared to a particularly dark section under the bridge. A shiver of what the boy would rather reluctantly describe as fear passed over his chest at the thought of being alone under the archway, when a deep, familiar voice said;

"You're late."

Had he been prone to slouching, Artemis would have sagged his shoulders in relief. He made a mental note never to let himself get in such a state of sleep-depravation again.

"I am not late, old friend. Merely rescheduling the meeting time."

"By nearly two days?"

Two days? Perhaps not as precise as he originally thought. However, in the grand scheme of things, Artemis mused, two days would not really amount to much compared to missing three years.

The only problem now, was whether it was the same three years he had missed.

"My apologies. I trust you have kept yourself entertained?"

Butler smiled. "Of course."

"Good. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I would like to return home. As soon as possible."

Fowl Manor, Ireland, 12:30 a.m.

The Manor was dark when Butler steered the Bentley up the driveway. Their flight back to Dublin had been uneventful, and Artemis had spent most of it in a meditative state, preferring to wait until he could rest undisturbed rather than snatch a few half-hours that would actually make him more exhausted.

He stepped through the double doors to the manor, Butler holding them open for his charge. He debated checking his father's study - the Senior Fowl used to stay up until dawn working on his business enterprises - but abandoned that idea when he remembered his father was a changed man. Sure enough, as he walked past his parents' room on the first floor, he could hear the unmistakeable sound of his father's light snores.

He smiled. Home at last.

Artemis had intended to collapse into his bed and not resurface until at least a day later, but when he reached the door to his room - it was only now that he appreciated his parents' love for him, to keep it unchanged despite the all-too-real possibility that he might never have returned - he heard a whimper from the nursery.

Slowly, he turned the doorknob to his brothers' room, aware that his appearance, unfamiliar as it was, could disturb them even more and wake his parents. His appearance had the desired effect of stopping their cries. Well, that was easy...

He made to close the door again, thinking fondly of his Egyptian cotton sheets, only to be interrupted by a resurgent, moaning cry.

Now what?

Butler was performing a rather perfunctory sweep of the Manor. In truth, after Master Artemis disappeared from the world for three years, Fowl Manor became a normal, albeit impressive, family home. There were no unexpected drop-ins from hired mercenaries, and only one attempt by Interpol to bug the Manor, but Artemis Fowl Junior had a way of attracting trouble, even when all he tried to do was rearrange history to save a subterranean elf who wasn't supposed to exist.

Having completed the sweep of the ground floor, Butler moved to check the vacant rooms of the first floor, but was met with a rather odd sight coming from the twins' nursery. A soft, pulsing blue light was being thrown into the otherwise pitch-black hallway. Butler frowned, stalking closer to the room, one hand straying to the bulge in his jacket that held his Sig Sauer.

He reached the doorway, and dropped the hand to his side. Artemis was stood in the middle of the room, between the two cots that held his brothers, hands moving in expansive gestures to manipulate the shooting blue sparks that were forming a variety of childhood constants: a rabbit, hopping above their heads, a pirate ship, tossing and diving through imaginary waves, railway trains, belching small blue sparks in a facsimile of steam. The toddlers were enraptured by the display, mouths open in awe, completely silent. Then, as Artemis began to downplay the intensity to a few sparks imitating the night sky, they dropped their heads and fell asleep.

He surveyed the results of his handiwork carefully, even tucking in Miles - or Beckett, Butler could never quite tell them apart - as his blanket was around his ankles. Butler smiled. It was odd to think that three years ago (In terms of the boy in question's age), the boy in front of him had kidnapped and held to ransom the elf who Artemis would later risk everything for. A criminal genius, tucking his baby brother in to ward away the bitter Irish cold.

"Is something the matter, old friend?"

Butler looked up to find the boy's eyes, though lined with tiredness, more alive than he had ever seen them.

"No, Artemis. Nothing's the matter."

Artemis smiled; a genuine smile for once, not his vampiric grin best reserved for crooked businessmen and condescending waiters. "Good. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get to bed before the next hare-brained scheme comes along."

Aww, nothing quite like a bit of brotherly love to finish off on, hey?
I've actually cut the bit where I explained why Holly got pulled along for the ride. There were a few hints in previous chapters, but for those of you still wondering, it's to do with the whole eye-thing. Time travel's tricky like that, it has to get all the parts of the person travelling forwards or backwards to work. Holly had one of Artemis's eyes, so therefore got sucked along.

If you've got any more questions that I've forgotten to answer, don't be afraid to ask me! I don't bite...much.

Oh, one more thing. If you enjoyed this story, there's a kind-of sequel called The Private Wound. You'll find it on my profile. It's a kind-of sequel because it isn't chronologically set after this story, but it's only possible with the events of this story, so they're linked. :)

Reviewers get a quite frankly adorable sleepy Artemis to play with!