Paradox

Brilliance is immeasurable, even with the vast array of adjectives found in the dictionary. There is no ruler, not even proverbially, to indicate the wellsprings of brilliance, or lack thereof, dwelling within a person. This issue of missing measurements did not faze Artemis Fowl in the slightest. The fact of the matter remained that Artemis was well aware of his exceptional brilliance. But exceptional was not nearly enough for him. He felt that the word exceedingly would do him much more justice and prove a much more worthy title. Artemis was quite determined to earn said title. And he would stop at nothing to do so.

Driven by the agony of loss, he toiled both night and day, perfecting something that would label him, if not brilliant, than surely insane. Yes, it had been done before, but never to this calibre, not to the eyes of the human race. And Artemis Fowl would claim this as his own and be remembered throughout all of history. The only problem was her. And the fact that she always interfered, stepping between Artemis and his beloved creation.

A hundred times, they spoke the same words.

"Things like this are wrong," she would tell him, "This is not supposed to exist."

"But I've created it," he would reply, always with a snide smile, "I've done the impossible."

"There's a reason they're impossible Artemis," she would whisper, ever so silently, "You're manipulating things that are meant to be left alone."

Usually he ignored her inquiries, determined to get back to work. But there were times when he would pause and recess into thought.

Fifty times, he delivered the same response.

"Tell me you've never once wondered why I do this. Tell me you've never once felt a curiosity so intense that you feel it burning at your insides like a severe hunger until you satisfy it."

"I wonder a lot of things about you Artemis. And whenever I ask you something, you give me the perfect answer – the textbook answer. But this time, when I ask you why, I really want to know. I want to hear your answer."

"Because," he would frown, wrinkles creasing his forehead, "I've lost so much and I can't stand to lose anymore."

"But why her?" she would press him on, frowning deeper than he, her eyes fixed intently upon his work.

"She was first."

Artemis Fowl worked to prevent loss, all the while loosing what mattered most. His goddess vanished, seemingly into thin air. Her glowing skin and sparkling eyes slowly grew fainter and fainter, until they disappeared completely and she was just a memory. Her memory was easily replaced though, and Artemis felt no sorrow because his creation was much more perfect than she could ever hope to be.

For hours at a time he would gaze into the face of the creation, drinking in the features of his long lost love like the most addicting of all alcohols. He would run his thin fingers down her face, caressing the smooth skin knowing full well that things could never be the same. It didn't bother him though, because his new invention was perfect.

Eventually she began to walk, tiny steps at first, as though afraid each would be her last. And then she commenced speaking, uttering ever syllable as if it were the most beautiful sound on Earth. And Artemis was convinced that she was the finest creature ever known to mankind.

He spent countless minutes teaching her everything she ought to know. He explained the English language to her, as well as her own native tongue. He even cared so much as to give her the gift of magic, so that she would remember what it felt like to have blue sparks of enchantment running through her veins. But no matter what he did, how hard he tried, or how much magic he placed within her, Artemis could not teach his creation how to feel.

She did not understand the concept of happiness, no matter how many times he made her laugh.

She did not understand the concept of sorrow, no matter how many times he recounted their own tragic fairytale.

She did not understand the concept of love, no matter how many times he pulled her close and kissed her passionately.

She did not understand the concept of fear, no matter how many times he yelled at her for not perceiving his own emotions.

However, she did cry. Even if it was unwillingly. Even if she had no idea how or why the tears leaked down her hand crafted cheeks. And he would always hold her, wondering aloud if she remembered what love was.

She never did.

-x-x-x-

A/N: The end! Another random one shot from me. Aren't you all happy? Anyways, please review and let me know what you thought. Constructive criticism is welcome and all that jazz.

I don't own Artemis Fowl. Imagine that.

I also want to, as always, thank Nikki.

Okay, and did anyone actually understand what I was getting at here?

Cheers!