Hellooo there...

I detest author's notes but I'm going to write this obscenely long one anyway. I recently developed a very strong, renewed interest in fanfiction (once you go FF, you never go back) after reading Pride & Prejudice, which naturally morphed into me reading about fifty AF fics. I wanted to add some of them to my story alerts, when I stumbled upon my old account, and lo and behold, this old story. Now, a whole very lot of time has passed between the conception of the idea and its finishing, but let me just say, it took me about half an hour to get myself to read it, and all the while, I literally cried tears of embarrassment. That being said, I decided to finish it, to give myself a little closure and to be able to move on to better things. However, in the 2+ years since I started this, I'm ashamed to say that my writing has gotten no better, and thus, this story concludes just as it began: mushily, with very little plot, and perhaps too much superfluous description (see what I did there?), because that is all that I know how to write. I've read some wonderful stories from this particular fandom, and I'm sad to waste some of the lines I wrote here on this story. However, two years later, "chapter four" is still just a part of my first foray into writing (this whole thing really should have been a one-shot), and even though it's a far cry from how I one day hope to write, I'm glad of the experience and grateful for everybody's support for this particular n00b writer.

Okay. Hopefully my last such (excuse-ridden) author's note ever.

PS: Bonus points if you can catch the P&P reference!

Artemis, nearly disbelieving what he had heard, sat back in his chair and didn't say a word, needing a moment to process the welcome information.

Holly, too, froze and remained that way, eyes down, waiting for his reaction, despairing, resigned to the worst, nearly praying for the best, and only somewhat registering, in the very back of her mind, that the auto-pilot would only work in perfectly straight passages. She was suddenly seized with worry, poised composedly on the brink of panic, that this was just another of Artemis's schemes. Somebody underground had offered him a reward to expose her. He was coming with her so that he could report her weakness to the Council, and she would be fired, and…oh Frond. Nobody else on or under the Earth caused her emotions to swing so wildly. She hazarded a glance at him. Still motionless. She wondered at his thoughts. He must think her so stupid, so naïve. She turned off the auto-pilot with more force than was strictly necessary, and turned her attention back to piloting the shuttle.

Artemis's mind was more agreeably engaged. He had read (and written) plenty of romance novels, but he himself had never been on the receiving end of requited (dare he think it?) love. He was unprepared for the sensations it would inspire. His heart raced a mile a minute. He sprouted wings and fairly rocketed skyward. His stomach found its way into his esophagus in the best possible way. He looked at the creature before him and felt her admiration. The something between them was built from years of trust, strong but hardly visible, like a spider web, and just as delicate. Fragile enough to be swept away by an outside force, tough enough to withstand any carelessness or neglect. He had to be careful. Slowly, Artemis pulled his hand free of the helmet, abandoning the ridiculous scheme. He released a teaspoonful of his emotions, bit by bit, until a small, rare smile lit his visage.

"Holly. Holly, pull over."

She complied, used to taking orders from Artemis, and turned to face him. He had a most peculiar look on his face. Suddenly fed up with her anxiety, her embarrassment, and her whole situation, she wiped the look off his face with a well-aimed fist. Artemis, caught unawares, had a strong feeling of déjà vu as his head flew back into the headrest.

"Oof," he said.

He brought his hands up to his face, which was hot, red, but not bloodied. And then he burst out laughing.

"Frond," thought Holly, "even his laughter sounds refined." And then, "What?"

She glared at him with a single, arched eyebrow until his chuckles subsided and he was ready to explain himself.

"Holly," he tried again, still amused. He loved the feeling of her name in his mouth. "Holly, don't you see? This was exactly how it started. And so it begins again."

He leaned forward, mismatched eyes sparkling, until they were very, very close. Holly didn't flinch.

"Artemis, just because your IQ is the size of Foaly's gullet, doesn't mean the rest of us can always decipher what you're talking abo-"

Her words were cut off by him closing the distance between them and pressing his lips against hers. Holly's head spun. He was so close. Her entire world shrank down to just her and Artemis, and soon it wouldn't even be her anymore. She barely had time for a sharp intake of breath before his lips were gone, replaced by the dry emptiness of recycled shuttle air. She opened eyes that she never realized she'd closed. She closed a mouth which she was embarrassed to have left open. Her heart was a-flutter, though she tried to convince herself that she was indignant at his nerve. So cocky, so self-confident, assured that everything would always go his way…and yet, it usually did. He pinned her down with his stare, and as her thoughts flew away, she vaguely realized that his look was one of insecurity, that he was asking her permission, searching for her approval. His uncertainty melted her remaining anger. So suave just minutes ago, and now so anxious. Without further ado, she threw her arms around him, no longer feeling the need to be angry with him. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and wrapped his arms tightly around this most priceless being. The shuttle was no longer cramped; it was perfectly cozy. His face was still red, though not from her punch, but from emotion, and embarrassment, and happiness, and warmth radiating out from his good heart. He took Holly's head in his hands, and brought it to his heart, trying to show her all that he was feeling, trying, and succeeding, at wordlessly communicating the strength of his regard. For a relationship like theirs, they hardly needed words, and yet how he loved the sound of her voice. As if reading his mind, Holly looked up.

"Can it work? Artemis, Arty, can we do this?"

The question hung in the air, so much like her last. Only this time, Artemis had her forgiveness, he had her trust, and he had his wits about him. He thought of their resources, his family, their friends. He thought of his knowledge, and her courage, and their combined strength and enormous attachment. He thought of Foaly's genius technology, of No. 1's magic, of his own funds, of his mother's support. So many resources. He felt sure they could make it work. The most important factor was their own love, which fluttered wordlessly in the air, kissing his cheeks (or was that Holly?), settling on his shoulders, and filling the tiny cockpit with all things lovely and irresistible.

"This is another time, Holly," he whispered.

Their lips met again, this time with more fervor, as elf and man let their hands wander. Not too far, though. Holly regained her senses, not keen on getting caught in an LEP shuttle doing obscene things with a criminal Mudman. She pulled away, and gently steered the craft back into the darkness. She giggled at Artemis's disgruntled expression.

"Let's go talk to Foaly," she grinned.

And the Captain and the Mudman continued down, she flying rather smoother than normal, and he smiling rather more than usual, and the pair of them holding hands, with tingly lips, enveloped in a silent love, and secure with the knowledge that if Artemis Fowl wanted something this much, there could be no doubt of him getting it.