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L'Homme Fatale	By : DaggersApprentice Category: A through F > Artemis Fowl Views: 3922 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Artemis Fowl series or any of the characters in it. I make no money writing this story.

Chapter List
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Part Two:
Sleeping Beauty
Artemis had kissed him.
The old, wooden door to their makeshift prison protested loudly when opened, hinges creaking, panels groaning, and their two visitors brought with them the pungent, muggy scent of alcohol and cheap tobacco.
Artemis—his charge, his protégé, a child—had—
No, Butler mentally checked himself.
Artemis had passed him a very vital piece of technology. With his mouth. By means of a process in which their lips had pressed one to the other and their tongues—
The floorboards moaned under stress, heavy footsteps clopping closer, and Butler lopped off his train of thought at the roots.
“The lil’un is all Boss wants fer now,” grunted a low, raspy voice, “Says the chip ain’t right or somethin’…need to search ‘im again ‘case he lifted it,” and Butler took a moment to wonder what a fluent, accented English speaker was doing in southern France kidnapping the five-year-old son of a cosmetic surgeon. True, the Paradizos had much to offer, but so did plenty of English or American families. Why go to the trouble of hopping continents?
“When? In the car?” responded the speaker’s companion. “That kid’s been lively as a sack of grain since we put him under…”
“No tellin’,” muttered the first, and they moved to either side of Artemis. “Get his legs, will ya? Looks like we may hafta give ‘im a bit of encouragement to wake up…”

About there, all of Butler’s attention went into ignoring every screaming instinct in order to not move as they lifted Artemis away from him.
It was no small task.
They thought he was unconscious. With the element of surprise, he could fell one and have his binds around the neck of the other before they knew what hit them. They were almost certainly armed, but it wouldn’t take much to disarm and debilitate them. They could find the Paradizo kid later—without losing track of Artemis. But that wasn’t the plan.
Artemis knew what he was doing, Butler insisted silently to himself. Not to mention, despite petering away rapidly, the drugs still retained some significant effect over him, muddling his senses, slowing his reaction time. There was too much room for error and not enough incentive to risk rousing the suspicion of others, making a scene and bringing the whole set-up down around their heads.
Still, by the time the door clicked shut behind them, rattling keys locking it in place, Butler’s heart felt like a panicked bird in a bone cage, powerful wings beating in vain against the bars of its living prison. He flexed his fists, grit his teeth, and started counting.
One, two, three…
In an hour, it would all be over.
…four, five, six…
They would all be out of here. Alive. Well.
…seven, eight, nine…
Artemis would be safe.

* * *
“…ten,” Holly whispered aloud, shimmered out of her shield, and dropped, boots hitting hardwood without a sound—a perfect landing behind the only remaining target in the room. She let one of Butler’s throwing knives slip from her belt and into her open palm. “Miss me?” she asked with perhaps a little more than merited sting, but Butler didn’t twitch, and his binds split like water under the blade.
“Always,” he responded, rubbing hands over his wrists as soon as the rope fell away, “and your timing is impeccable.”
Holly, dropping his weapon to the ground with a snort, kept her eyes averted. “Gee thanks,” she grunted and proceeded to return his Sig Sauer, Derringer pistol, the rest of his confiscated throwing knives, several stun-grenades, and his ball-bearing cosh. “I try.” Without a sideways glance, she started for the door.
“Holly?”
Well shit.
So much for discretion.
Holly stalled, hand on the knob. She took a breath, fought the urge—and then caved, looking over her shoulder. Butler’s expression betrayed far too much insight for her complete comfort.
“Yes?” she asked, voice frustratingly small, and she scowled inwardly at her inability to stamp out the feeling of playing the fussy child—temperamental over something ridiculous.
“Something’s wrong,” observed Butler, tucking his various weapons away as he spoke, but leaving no room for argument. “What happened?”
There wasn’t time for this. Holly knew that. She also knew that it wasn’t her business to interfere in the first place. She had no reason to be upset. Artemis wasn’t hers after all. She’d made no claim on his time or his affection. He had every right to do whatever he pleased, as he always did.
All things considered, she startled herself almost as much as Butler when she blurted, “Do you always kiss children? Or is Artemis just special?”

Meanwhile…
“Je veux les bonbons! Je veux les bonbons!” wailed Beau with enough wind to spark an opera singer’s envy. Across the room, his ‘babysitter’ shut his eyes, fingers shaped into imaginary guns and pressed hard to his temples.
Kidnapping. That sounded simple enough, right? Nab a kid, bag the ransom, dump the goat back safe and sound with its parents and get the hell out of Dodge. Sure. Simple. Only, people always tended to forget the kid part of kidnapping.
And he hated kids.
They cried; they spat. They puked, and bit and whined. When the thought of everything he’d do with the sizeable paycheck in store for him at the end of this job no longer sufficed to sooth his growing migraine, he resorted to perfecting the all-too-tempting fantasy of shoving another heavily sedative-induced chocolate bar as far down the screaming child’s throat as heavenly possible. If only…
The door banged loudly, and he groaned, scrunching his eyes tighter against the added noise.
“Simon!” barked a voice from the other side. “Open the fuck up, will you? We have a…package…”
Brow furrowing, Simon allowed himself another half second of wallowing in tantrum-induced misery before heaving a resigned sigh and getting to his feet to oblige his visitor. Make that visitors, he thought upon ‘opening the fuck up,’ and promptly glared at his two teammates, glancing only fleetingly to their alleged ‘package’—one of the bonus prisoners, by the looks of things. The smaller one.
“And what’s this?” he grunted. “Weren’t we supposed to leave them be?”
“Yeah, well, Boss said ta take another look,” growled the man bearing the brunt of the burden, Craig, the oldest among them, and he shouldered past Simon as he spoke.
“Je veux les bonbons!” their youngest captive continued to bellow, and, dumping his load unceremoniously on the nearest table, Craig scowled in Beau’s direction.
“God damn, that thing oughta be in a freakin’ condom commercial. Doesn’t he ever run outta breath?”
“Not so far as I can tell…” muttered Simon, feeling at least as foul as his fellow conspirator looked he folded his arms and leaned back against a wall, watching Craig rustle through the unconscious kid’s clothes.
He couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen. Slim, pale—not the type that got out much. What had he done to get wrapped up in all this? Simon sighed wearily. One thing was sure: he would be glad when this was all over. Hate them he might, but roughing up minors just wasn’t his thing—and neither was babysitting.
“Je veux le-” Beau’s words cut off into a garbled yelp, chopped short by a rough, choking grip at the base of his chin. Against the wall, Simon tensed.
“Listen here, kid…” Craig snarled darkly. Then, frowning thoughtfully, he tossed a look in Simon’s direction. “This rat speak English?”
“Je le parle,” blubbered Beau, drawing attention back to himself. At the sharp, narrow-eyed look his words received, his already tear-streaked cheeks darkened. “I…I…understand…” he self-corrected. “B-but what…are you g-going to do with…Artemis?”
Craig frowned. “Artemis?” he repeated, confusion softening his bark. “Who the h-”
“I am Artemis…” interrupted a voice from the first table, and four heads snapped immediately to the speaker, “and if I were you…I would remove my hand from that boy’s throat as quickly as you find physically possible.”
Understandably, it took Craig a moment to gather himself.
Then, about to snarl that he didn’t take orders from pre-teens, he realized his hand had already left Beau’s neck. Glowering spitefully, took a step towards Artemis instead. “Oh yeah?” he retorted, fingers slipping instinctively to his holster. “And what’s ta make me afraid of you, huh?” he challenged. “‘Cause it seems to me…” He bared a missing tooth in the unfriendliest grin he could manage, “…I’m the one holdin’ the cards here, boy…”
Artemis didn’t blink. If anything, he looked infuriatingly more smug. “Oh, trust me,” he said, a slow, knowing smirk curving onto his lips as he spoke, “it’s not me you should be afraid of…”
Craig took a moment to look puzzled.
Then, “…it’s me,” rumbled a voice like distant thunder from the doorway, and all three kidnappers noted simultaneously to themselves that ‘The Biggun’ looked significantly bigger upright and conscious.

* * *
“Do you always kiss children? Or is Artemis just special?” accused Holly, hurt and anger thinly laced into the otherwise deadpan snap, and Butler’s gut gave a sickening lurch, realization hitting hard.
Oh, he thought dizzily. That’s what was wrong. He swallowed.
“Holly…” he began after a sizeable pause, choosing his words like choosing footing on a loaded mine field, “we both know Artemis is extremely special. However…” He raised a hand to his lips, carefully picking out the cause of his troubles, and watched Holly’s anger morph slowly into puzzlement—curiosity, “…please trust me when I say…it’s not what you think.” He brought the chip to the corner of his shirt, dabbed it off, and then lifted it between his fingers, squinting. Finally, he held it out to Holly. “I assume,” he said, “that he didn’t want to store it in his clothes for fear of it being found, and then, when he expected he’d be searched and needed to pass it off to me…with both our hands bound…”
Nut-brown cheeks darkened a shade—then another—and another.
“Oh…” Holly’s voice was a hoarse squeak. “He…it…you…” At long last, she looked up, guilt pouring into her expression as it all fell into place. “Oh, Butler…I’m so sorry, I didn’t…I never should have…it’s just that after seeing-”
Butler caught her shoulder, squeezing gently. “What were you supposed to think?”
Holly, keeping eye contact, swallowed. “No.” She shook her head. “That’s no excuse. Even if…” If possible, her already burning cheeks darkened further, but she barreled on stubbornly. “Even if that was what it had looked like, I had no right…no reason to…”
Butler raised an eyebrow.
Holly steeled herself, face a lovely, dark mahogany. “Alright, fine,” she grunted brusquely, meeting his calm amusement with a scowl that no longer reached her eyes. “We’ll talk about this later.”
Behind her, Butler smiled. “Sounds like a plan to me.”
There, they separated.
Holly took an upward route, out of sight. Butler, following her brief directions with the aid of a tracking device pinpointing Artemis’s new location, moved off down the hall. As he descended an aged flight of stairs at the rear of the building, hugging the wall to avoid excess creaking, and edged around an empty kitchen, he wondered in passing how such a place could possibly serve the double life that it did. Surely even one night of unexplained gunshots would be enough to scare off even the most avid of customers? Perhaps it was a one time thing.
Almost to his marked destination, Butler slowed his approach.
“…and if I were you,” came a very familiar voice from under the nearest door, “I would remove my hand from that boy’s throat as quickly as you find physically possible.”
Alone and unarmed in room with kidnappers and murderers—and still the epitome of self-assured composure. Sighing, Butler shook his head and aligned himself against the wall just to the right of the door’s frame, prepping his nine-millimeter. Ah, Artemis, he thought. And then: God it feels good to have this gun back.
“…it seems to me,” one of their captor’s was saying, “…I’m the one holdin’ the cards here, boy…”
Wait for the signal. Holly must have been almost there by now.
“Oh, trust me,” said Artemis, and Butler could see the smirk curving onto his charge’s lips with those words—that thin, curling smirk that promised ruin to its audience as surely as smoke promised fire, “it’s not me you should be afraid of…”
One blink—a single, silent blip on the communicator at his wrist—Holly’s signal, and Butler might have chuckled if it wouldn’t have spoiled his cover. One might have thought she’d actually planned for that sort of timing.
Not one to ruin a perfect entrance, Butler took the lead in and stepped through the door, finishing Artemis’s thought with an ominous, “…it’s me,” just in time to successfully draw the focus of every man in the room. Behind them, shimmering in her suit, Holly dropped down.
The man previously stalking for Artemis gained his bearings first. But, Butler’s gun was already pulled, and before he could make up his mind, two marble-sized balls fell ‘out of thin air’ from the ceiling, tapping to the floor and rolling, rolling…
And: action.
Click—Butler notched the door shut behind him, and a second later, Pshhh! both balls erupted with all the histrionic flare of a magician’s smoke-bomb.
“Beau, retenez ton souffle!” demanded Artemis a half-second before following his own advice and clapping his mouth shut, the command impressively sharp over the immediate eruption of noise and action from the unprepared persons in the room.
Unfortunately, Beau was not accustomed to taking orders. “Retiens mon souffle?” he repeated, pouting indignantly.“Pourquoi de…je…” His eyes dipped. “Je suis…” His body swayed, mouth opening into a yawn, “…fatigué…”
Butler caught him before he hit the floor.
No one was so kind to the others affected, and seconds later, three heavy thuds announced their previous captors’ subsequent descents into unconsciousness.

Minutes later, Outside L’Espadon Noir
“Beau? Beau!” cried Minerva. Upon spotting her brother—limp and cradled, bridal style, in Butler’s arms—she broke instantly into a sprint, nearly tripping over herself in the rickety gravel in her haste to get to him, and her voice trembled when she arrived. “Oh, Beau…mon Bo-bo, my poor baby…” she whispered, unshed tears bubbling behind her eyes as Butler knelt to a knee, bringing him to her level, and she reached with quivering fingers to his forehead, brushing back blonde curls. “Désolé, Bo-bo, I’m so sorry…” She shook her head, lifting wide, glimmering blue eyes to Butler’s. “This was all my fault…”
“He’ll be fine,” he comforted her strictly. “Just some knock-out gas. Give him a few hours…he’ll be good as new.”
“A situation,” Artemis cut in crisply, “which might have been avoided entirely if you’d ever deigned to teach him some respect for authority.” Minerva’s glance darted up, and he arched an eyebrow at her. “I gave him fair warning. I even—mmph…”
Minerva never gave him the liberty of finishing that sentence, throwing her arms tightly around him instead, and, much to his comic surprise, muffling the remainder of his words with a solid, head-on kiss.
“Mille mercies, Artemis,” she gushed, expression wreathed with gratitude when she pulled back. “I am…ever indebted to you. Truly.”
Artemis, looking thoroughly off-balance, swallowed. He glanced to Butler—who proceeded immediately to take Beau to the awaiting car—Holly—who promptly followed Butler—and then finally, seeing as he was obviously not going to receive any outside help on this one, back to Minerva.
“It was…nothing,” he replied, trying on an awkward smile—with mixed results. “Really. I-”
“Sir?”
Artemis looked as if he’d been saved from the jaws of death itself. “Yes, Butler?”
“Those men will not remain unconscious as long as Beau will…and it will take less time than that for their superiors to catch on that something is amiss. If you and Miss Paradizo could continue your conversation in the car perhaps…?”
“Oh, yes, of course,” agreed Artemis, eagerly latching on to the excuse to flee, and he skirted deftly out from Minerva’s clutches, making a bee-line for the car. Behind him, Minerva looked to Butler, caught his shrug, and then rolled her eyes. When she stepped into the car, though, she was smiling.
“Relax, Fowl,” she said, winking teasingly at his apparent unease as she slid in next to him. “Everyone knows…the French will kiss anyone.”
She took a mental snapshot and savored his answering expression for the remainder of the trip.
A/N: Sorry. Due to a couple of reasons, this is (obviously now) not a continuation of my old series (in which Butler and Artemis are already an…em…”item” so to speak). This IS however, definitely another Butler/Artemis fic. No worries about that. I just…wanted to finally give them a full length fic, a little time to develop, some plot…I realize that’s not nearly as popular here on AFF but…I’m gonna keep posting it here for whoever might be reading, and if you are reading, please feel free to let me know. :P
The next chapter will be dedicated mostly to Holly's "talk" with Butler, and then some other stuff which I won't talk about because, hey, you'll find out if you stick around, yeah? Thanks for reading this far; I live for feedback. Questions/comments, I'm all for it.
P.S. Please don't hate on Minerva. I like her a little. She won't steal Arty's heart; I PROMISE. 'Mmk?
P.P.S. If anyone's really bored, google "bonbon condom commercial." Funniest 'effin thing ever. And inspiring. :D
Translations:
Je veux les bonbons! - I want (the) candy!
Je le parle. - I speak it.
Retenez ton souffle! - Hold your breath!
Retiens mon souffle? - Hold my breath?
Pourquoi de…je… - Why wou…I… (Note: I believe "pourquoi devrais-je" is "why would I" so, since he wasn't exactly finishing his sentences…)
Je suis fatigué. - I'm sleepy.
Désolé. - I'm sorry.
Mille mercis. - Thank you so much. (A thousand thank yous.)

Review Replies
unknown20troper: ^_^ Yeah, as far as I can tell, almost every single "issue" with H/A is present in B/A and vice-versa. (Besides, I suppose the "homosexual" aspect; but that doesn't strike me as an "issue" just a preference thing. o-O) Oh, and the fact that Holly and Artemis are different species......yeahhhhhh...
datoichii: Whoo! Thanks for showing up to review this! Yeah, it could totally have fit. But...iono. I wanted to play with the sexual tension again I guess. I started Rational Intercourse so long ago...I wanted another go at getting them together as "realistically" as possible. :P But again, thanks anyway for reviewing! I have a feeling the feedback is gonna be slow on this site this time around, so I'll horde all the attention I can get. :)
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L'Homme Fatale