How many stories do I have now with titles beginning with 'P'? Another P title, good grace.

Many thanks to those who have reviewed for my previous stories. If I haven't replied, it isn't because I'm a meanie. I check my mail often but I hardly have time to reply. My undying thanks, nevertheless. I have much work to be done, but hey, why not idle my days away by publishing these stories I have hidden away on my computer?

I own nothing, not even the significant words of the story ( read and you'll understand).

Read and tell me what you think.

Summary: Post Inebriation- In which Artemis can remember nothing of what happened the night before and in which Holly and the twins try desperately to keep it that way.

Title: Post Inebriation

By Aleauxvander

"I was ill?"

An amused snort, almost unbelieving, and she spooned the tasteless mud man soy milk into her mouth with a spoonful of equally tasteless low fat, low cholesterol, low MSG, low taste generic cereal.

"Very." She answered over breakfast.

His brows furrowed, uncertain and slightly confused, an odd expression on his face, and he stared ahead, as though thinking back as far as he could with the clarity of a blind man. She watched his hand rise, unconsciously, to rub at a patch of skin on his neck and she averted her eyes. Artemis watched her closely on most occasions, as most lovers did; he would notice if she stared.

"I don't recall feeling sick." He commented "frankly, I don't recall much within the last 20 or so hours.

Lifting only slightly warming soy milk into her mouth, Holly reached for the cereal box, slapped his hand away from it, and added more to her bowl.

"Mud men have short memory spans," she said dismissively hoping to end the conversation before it began "almost as short and fickle as your lifespan."

He looked affronted, as much as he could when he had a mystery on his mind, something for his brain to pick apart like a vulture at a carcass, and leaned back in his chair around the breakfast table in the empty house. She knew that look on his face, had tried to dissuade it many times, but the sinking dread filled her stomach as she realized Artemis Fowl would do what he did best; he would pick at it until he found out.

"That can't be applied to me." He said "I have impeccable memory."

Unfortunately, she thought wryly.

She stopped to stare at him, still chewing, paying much attention to what she said and how she said it lest he become intrigued. The only way to manipulate a master manipulator was to do so subtly but for all she did, for all she said, his thoughts and words went back to the missing bits of his memory of the night before. It was expected though, she thought. If he wasn't aware that he had missing memories, it would have been less suspicious but with the little inkling he had that there was something missing, he would go at it until he was satisfied.

She lifted an eyebrow, turned in her chair to face him, a challenge, and put down her spoon long enough to cross small, slender hands over her chest.

"Alright then," she said "where were you last night? Better yet, what happened last night?" she was gambling, she knew, but it was best to wound his pride by reminding him he couldn't remember what had happened than have his mind free to think it through.

His mouth opened, then shut, then he just stared, face blank and eyes slightly unfocused. He looked thoughtless but years of knowing him told her he was thinking. She gave him only seconds before he reached for his multifunctional cell phone with as much discretion as a battering ram on a door and check the surveillance cameras in each room of the house. Now that she thought of it, she should have asked Foaly to erase the footage but she could do nothing now with him sitting across from her.

He seemed to momentarily concede defeat, reaching for the coffee pot to distract her from his answer.

"I don't know." He said evenly.

She smiled smugly, reached for her tasteless meal.

"Case in point." She said "but it's hardly expected. Even fairies find it difficult to remember much after they're inebriated." The words left her mouth before she thought them through and she ended up stringing him along the path of discovery once more.

Sputtered coffee, mostly falling into her bowl and she ignored his coughing fit to stare at distaste at her now tainted breakfast.

"Did you just spit in my food—"

"I was drunk?" he asked incredulously, with more energy than he usual had at such an ungodly hour.

"On cold and sinus medication," she lied. Holly's eyes shifted down to her bowl, away from his in hopes of avoiding his questions, then across the table to her left where his phone was.

"I doubt that." He said unbelieving.

"Why do you say that?" she asked innocently, standing from the table, and made for the large kitchen next to the breakfast nook. He followed with his bowl and a new cup of coffee that would clog his arteries and end his life a few steps behind her.

"You know that I'm allergic to ibuprofen," he stated "which, and I know you know this, is in most every kind of medication, generic or otherwise."

She opened the refrigerator, a barrier between his searching eyes and her open face, and reached for vegetables in the coolest past of the machine.

"Really?" she said, "Amazing.", not convincing him, not even convincing her own mind.

There was hardly any infliction in her voice and he knew very well that she knew of his lethal allergy to the substance. He wore a bracelet made of the best, of course, and purest white gold which he never took off that he had engraved on the inside, a list of all his serious ailments and the medicines he was allergic to. A medical band, he had called it. A walking doctor's chart, she named it.

There was the small, sharp sound of his bowl being set on the counter behind her but she kept her back to him.

"Which leaves me to wonder just what took place in between last night and this morning that you rather I don't remember."

And like a missile, homed in on his target. Nothing missed him.

She smiled, couldn't resist it, but schooled her expression into one of almost convincing hurt before she turned from the chopping board to look at him.

"Why would I want to hide anything from you? What could I possibly need to?"

He gave her a charming smile, completely at odds with his following comment, "why is it that I don't believe you?"

She rolled her eyes, turning back to her vegetables to rinse them in the sink.

"Have I ever lied to you?" she asked "all previous lies and such before today notwithstanding."

He laughed and set down his coffee, standing close behind her, blocking her light.

"That's hardly fare." Artemis complained. He kissed her hair affectionately, burying his nose in it with a sigh "and yes, you did. When we woke this morning and I found myself in incomprehensible amounts of pain for which you justified as 'my sins coming back to haunt me'"

"And who are you to assume that was a lie?" she asked "it could have been, and it is, the truth. However smart you are, mud man, you can't read minds"

There was his silence and she could feel his amusement rolling off of him in almost tangible waves when he ducked his head to the side to stare at her face.

"You can't look at my face when you lie to me," he informed her with a smile "I have noticed it before. It's actually amusing."

She turned away from him, proving his point unconsciously, but couldn't seem to fight the innate instinct to turn from him when she lied. It was because she had lied the night before, he was questioning her now and if she could, she would carry the secret to the grave with her. If she could distract him long enough, keep him away from his phones, his laptops, his computers, she could have Butler or Foaly erase all footage of the previous night and he would have been none the wiser. With the right treatment it could be reversed…

She hoped.

"That's not true."

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her back against him while she ate her salad and hugged her to him.

"If I could any at all remember what happened, would I be mad?" he asked curiously.

She scoffed; shaking her head with laughter which he seemed to translate as being a no.

If he found out would he be angry? Anger wouldn't cover the spectrum of violent colours he would exude when he discovered just what she had, inadvertently, caused. At the end of the day, while she could blame it all on the twins, he would still hold her accountable the most. She had, quiet literally, thrown him at them…

She was guilty, as guilty as they were, but couldn't bring herself to hate the fruit of her wrong doing. Maybe with time, if he found out, she could convince him to love it as much as she already did.

"No…" she said with a smile, betraying her inner turmoil "Of course not."

Artemis snorted, chuckling into her hair, "You're lying," he said "besides I'll eventually find out. I always do."

She said nothing, eating silently because she hoped that when he did discover it, she would be miles away, deep below the earths crust surrounded by billions of years of advanced technology and enough firepower to keep him at bay. He would only discover it in a few days, Beckett had assured her of that, while Myles had stood at the side, hands crossed, looking so smug and amused. She would skin them alive, she promised, when she saw them again—

"I have done more harm and damage to you and our relationship in the past three years than you could do to me in a lifetime," Artemis said suddenly, pulling away from her and kissed her chastely on the lips. "Nothing you do could ever amount to as much damage as you think it will."

She turned to look at him, answering without thought which only piqued his interests further.

"You wanna bet?"

She saw the subtle shift in his eyes, how they moved from her face only within a second, to glance over her shoulder where the breakfast nook was and his phone sat on the table. She knew his actions before he even moved.

He lunged ahead of her, around the island counter, out the kitchen and into the nook while she quiet literally threw her body across the counter, landing as gracefully as she could under circumstances and reached for the phone.

They both caught it, holding mercilessly unto the fragile combination of hardware and software, slightly out of breath and laughing.

"Let go, Artemis." She said.

"Only when I am finished with it, Miss Short." He smiled at her, gripping the phone harder as she tugged. "Besides, what need of yours is it, hm? When have you ever lied to me?" he parroted jokingly.

"Touché." She accepted "so let bygones be bygones."

He was unrelenting.

"Only after I find out what you have done." He told her "how horrible could it be?"

"What use would that be then?" she asked "if you have already forgiven me."

He grinned.

"Its voice activated, I'll have you know."

She paused, then suddenly laughed, "Artemis, no!"

He reached forward only to poke her under her ribs where she was most sensitive and she danced out of his way in a fit of laughter, letting go of the phone.

Before she could recover, he was off in the kitchen once more, away from her, on the opposite side of the counter, moving from one side to the other to avoid her.

Holly gave up and pulled herself up into a high seat by the counter, and waited for the ending of the world.

The young man, all too pleased with her defeat, padded over to hug her, his arms around her but his fingers dancing across the touch sensitive screen of the phone, sorting through footage from the night before. Any second now, he would stiffen, he would blanch and he would explode.

He stiffened, yes, and leaned away from her, not looking at her but frowning at the screen of the phone, confused.

"I am sure that if I understood any of what was going on, I would be as upset as you think I should, but I don't," he admitted, turning the phone to show her the tapes of the night before. All it showed was, as she expected, the twins helping him into the house, Butler by the entrance hall looking upset and her keeping a keen, concerned eye.

He fast forwarded the tape, watching silently before shrugging.

"My assumption is that the twins fed me alcohol in copious amounts which my body could not handle." He looked down at her, handing her the phone. She took it, relieved but confused. He had missed it? How in the name of Frond had he missed it?

"I was drunk, and taken back here." He continued "worst things have happened to me at expense of the twins."

She only smiled at him, thinking to herself, if only he knew.

He put his bowl and cup in the sink and turned to leave the kitchen.

"Now, you have a shuttle to catch." he said taking her hand and pulling her along, the mystery dismissed "we have little time to idle. We will be late."

She stopped in the nook to clear the table and waved him ahead.

"Go and get ready," she told him "I'll use the g bathroom."

He eyed her steadily, as though wondering just what else she knew and he didn't, but nodded, disappearing from the room and up the stairs.

She heard the door of the West Wing close, the sound resounding in the quiet of the empty house and turned her back to the three cameras in the kitchen and pressed the patch of skin coloured material just beneath her jaw.

"Foaly—"

"Interesting development there," he interrupted and she could hear his grin through the earpiece "I bet you my whole pay cheque that when he takes a shower, the cover will wash off and he'll see it—"

"By then I'll be gone." She said quickly "I don't care what you're doing, or how important it is, just delete those tapes, now!" she hissed.

"Whatever you say," the centaur drawled "I'll wash away your mistakes—"

She literally snarled at him, "I really don't like you right now."

"I should thank the twins," he continued "made for an entertaining night," he said amicable, "I didn't know Fowl had such a high tolerance for pain…didn't flinch at all…"

She ended the call on his laughter, putting Artemis' phone on the table and sprinting up the stairs to change and leave. The farther away she was when he discovered just what copious amounts of alcohol could to, the better.

The house, though empty, was oddly enough silent when he stepped out of the bathroom.

The first thing he did when he felt no other presence in the house was to call her name. Holly made no reply and he frowned, ambling over to the touch screen monitor by the door of his closet, holding unto his only source of clothing, a towel, and searched through the cameras of the house.

The 30 or so panels showed the same thing. No moving body, no sign of life, and his cameras were modified enough to sense a shielded fairy. Holly, it seemed, had already left.

He vanished the screen and brought up a control panel, pushing number three on speed dial and the phone in the helmet of her LEP suit simply rang.

When he was more appropriately dressed, he decided turning towards his room, he would contact Foaly. Chances are the centaur knew more about his lover's sudden flight than he did.

His hand rose, once more, to rub uncomfortably at the skin of his neck and he dressed quickly for the day.

If he hadn't passed by the window where his reflection only partially shone back at him he would have missed it.

As soon as he saw the glimmer of it, a pale blue fading light, in the window pane, he frowned and hurried over to the full length mirror—

And all but gaped.

He pulled at his tie, throwing it aside and began to undress again, unbuttoning his shirt to have a complete view of the image seared into the skin of his neck, trailing out of sight off his shoulder beneath his clothes.

Artemis only stared.

From mid neck, leaving a thin, but visible train down the column of his neck, across the ridge of his shoulder was a line of gnomish symbols and ciphers. He stepped away from the mirror, watching his reflection still, but found his way to his computer where he commanded the angle change of the cameras in the room.

The screen behind him lit up with the feed and he turned to it, trailing his finger over the glowing, cerulean blue symbols on his skin, etched in by magic, never to be removed.

A tattoo. No ordinary human tattoo that could be removed by skilled lasers but a permanent, tattoo using the science and technology afforded to the People. He had seen them before, of course, on many persons below ground, had queried and found his nose wrinkling in distaste.

The technique for that matter was DNA manipulation, advance complicated biotechnology the people turned into a subtle art form. The person's DNA was changed and overtime, the skin would change into patterns and words of the persons design as the DNA within their body molded the skin. No matter how one cut at the skin, removed layers and layers of it, the tattoo would surface on the skin, like a birth mark.

And there the words stood, beating a steady, azure beat to the rhythm of his pulse, sending his heart rate up and the insurmountable love he felt for her hit him like a bus as he translated the words:

Love understands what no one can.

It is unconditional and unending.

He took the few moments he could to appreciate her love and the gift he would, someday, grow to love.

Then he saw red.

The fowl twins were, for lack of a better, more diplomatic and less harsh word, evil. It was never a surprise that when the 10 year olds, already gaining height and the gangly limbs that seemed to be innately Fowl, left school at the end of each day that their various professors breathed simultaneous and universally heartfelt sighs of relief.

Both young boys, hardly old enough to cross the road (yet somehow had shares in most every lucrative company imaginable and had piloting licenses) had been all smiles exiting the large, ornate gates of their polished, expensive school of the (deviant/kleptomaniac) gifted, expecting to see their family friend, Butler waiting to drive them home.

It was Myles who saw him first and froze.

Beckett, utterly involved with his phone (checking stocks, what else?), continued walking ahead until his brother held unto the loop in his bag and pulled him back harshly to his side.

Young Beck looked over at his brother sharply, "What the—"

Artemis Fowl stood waiting patiently by an easily recognizable Rolls Royce Phantom that belonged to him, his arms crossed and smiling.

"Oy vey..." they whispered simultaneously.

Artemis smiled his unnerving, predatory smile and the twins visibly paled.

"How right you are."

A month later, with her covered only by him and the modest comfort of the sheets, in the still afterglow of their night, she trailed a soft lone finger down the words embedded in his skin.

The incessant, blue light it emitted had finally ceased, leaving behind in permanent, dark blue and black lines her message.

"A card would have been better." He said, knowing somehow the direction her thoughts took.

She smiled, still touching the skin of his neck softly, regret burning in her eyes.

"I'm sorry."

He kissed her nose and she wrinkled it.

"You've apologized enough times." He said forgivingly. besides I blame the twins." he maintained "I don't mind it."

She gave him an unbelieving expression, her brows furrowed with regret.

"Yes you do." Holly insisted. "I know you do. I would…"

He sat up on his elbows, taking her hand to kiss her palm.

"Love understands what no one can. It is unconditional and unending." He reminded her of the words she had contributed to his skin. "Isn't that what you said?"

The same, crushing appreciation and respect she felt for him washed over her and settled like a soft mist, a comforting blanket of deep affection and love that scared her.

He grinned, scratching the same patch of skin, now a growing habit of sorts.

"Besides," he joked "the colour fits me."

Her answering smile was brilliant.

.:Owari:.

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