Author's Note: Hello, my beautiful readers. It's time for the last chapter… ugh, that's so sad! But also good, of course. We don't want to keep Artemis waiting for much longer, after all.

I keep repeating myself, but it bears repeating: Thank you all so so much for your love, support, and kindness throughout these last five weeks. Writing is fairly lonely, and you don't get feedback until you post something, so until then I keep alternating from "Oh, this is brilliant, well done, team!" to "This is complete and utter rubbish. Who wrote this? I am unworthy of trying to portray Artemis, nor Butler, nor Sofia."

And while I need to deal with my inner critic on my own, it means a lot to me seeing that some people enjoy my writing. I love every single comment, kudos, and DM, and I am forever grateful to you all.

Okay, enough of weepy Wee, enjoy chapter 5!

Disclaimer: Eoin Colfer owns all the characters from Artemis Fowl. I only own my imagination and the characters I have created, in this case a hall filled with posh people, a shady art collector, and the lovely Dr Sofia Massetti.


Chapter 5

Butler stopped in front of the double doors to the ground floor, inspecting Sofia's appearance. Her dress was sporting patches of dust. No surprise there. She had probably swept the ceiling for the first time in years.

Following his gaze, Sofia tried to shake off the dust. Butler doubted it was enough to fool the attendees. People might overlook their suddenly even more jarring height difference, but they would still make assumptions, starting with Sofia's wild hair that had freed itself and framed her face. She almost looked like–

He lifted an eyebrow in thought, an idea sparking to life.

"Sofia, look at me."

She glanced up, frowning at the way he loosened his tie. He reached out and cupped her chin in his hand. Placing a thumb on her lower lip, he smudged the pink lipstick before rubbing it over the corner of his mouth. Sofia's eyes went round like saucers.

"What are you doing?" she spluttered.

Butler didn't answer, but clasped her hand in his and pushed the door to the hall open. And suddenly they stood together with clusters of agitated people, murmuring among themselves about the unwelcome interruption of the auction.

Butler scanned the crowd, a gasp to his right giving him pause. The two elderly ladies who had waved at him earlier. They gaped at Sofia, taking in her dishevelled hair and her flushed cheeks, before focusing on his loose tie and the pink colour on his mouth. Butler lifted a shoulder, giving them a boyish smile, and letting them believe the Kiselyovs had slipped away to make out in the broom closet. The women snapped out of their shock, snickering and lifting both their thumbs in the air as if to congratulate him. If only. Butler suppressed a grin.

Sofia pulled her dress forward, trying to conceal her bare feet. She tried to school her features into something calmer, but her flushed cheeks gave her away. Apart from the elderly ladies, however, the other bidders seemed more interested in the current breach of security. The Police had clearly arrived promptly after the alarm had been activated. The concierge followed the busy officers around on his short legs, his face red from the physical exercise.

"I am sure it was a false alarm, gentlemen. My employees are on it."

If the director had been around, they would have fired him. False alarm or not, Sothebyne's hadn't become the most sought-after auction house by being lax with their security. Protocols needed to be followed to the letter. The house had to be shut down to identify the reason for the breach of security. Any auction had to be put on hold and all participants' information had to be recorded for further investigation.

Several officers were stationed at the entrance, going through the guest list, before making everybody go through a metal detector. Sofia watched as Mrs Buttar complained loudly about having to take off her jewellery for inspection. It would take forever to check all the bling-heavy ladies, she thought with a sigh, thankful she had chosen only the bare minimum.

Then she looked down, and her heart leapt into her throat for the umpteenth time that day.

"The bracelet," she whispered, grabbing Butler by the arm. His head jerked down to stare at the golden bangle around her wrist. The way he clenched his jaw told her he hadn't thought about it, either. Her eyes darted to that smudged lipstick, doing nothing to soften his grim features. Her knees went weak at the memory of how–

Non è il momento giusto!

Digging her fingernails into her palm, she gave Butler a pointed look. She hoped it looked like, "Coming up with several escape plans and knowing a hundred different ways to kill a man is one thing, but is smuggling jewellery out of an auction house part of your expertise, too?", and not like "Please kiss me senseless?"

She gritted her teeth. What the heck was wrong with her? Their ruse would be up if the bracelet was discovered! They were this close to ending up in prison. Concentrarti!

"Can you feign a mental breakdown?" Butler asked, having (hopefully) interpreted her stare as a silent plea for an escape plan. "Like in the desert?"

Sofia stepped out of the way of a passing policeman, flinching as she put weight on her foot.

"I can't cry on command," she whispered, trailing off. Not on command, no. But there were other ways. This would hurt, she knew. Well, better temporary pain than prison.

She clenched her fists, and bracing herself, put her full body weight on her injured ankle. Hot, searing pain shot up her leg. She doubled over, tears welling up in her eyes.

Butler steadied her trembling shoulders, registering the blue turban of a young police officer from the corner of his eyes. Sofia's pained moans had undoubtedly attracted his attention.

"Sir, is everything alright?"

Sofia sobbed. "They're going to shoot us."

The officer looked alarmed, touching her shoulder, which made her shriek and bury her head into Butler's chest. "Don't let them kill me!"

"It's alright, milochka. These are good police officers."

"No, no, no. La Cosa Nostra li possiede tutti," she cried, hiding her arms under his jacket.

Butler gave the young man with the groomed beard an apologetic shrug. "My wife's nerves. She is terrified of the–" He mouthed the word "Mafia". The policeman understood, studying the trembling woman. People murmured.

"Sir, if you give me your details, I can do the check over there."

Butler shook his head. "That won't be necessary. We don't want to cause any trouble. Simone. Please, you are embarrassing me. These people are trying to do their job."

Sofia sobbed even harder.

The young officer cleared his throat. "Sir, you are causing a bit of a scene. Please come with me."

"So sorry to cause you trouble, Officer…?"

"Singh," the young man answered, straightening and almost saluting dutifully.

"Please lead the way, Officer Singh."

Butler followed the other man, coaxing his crying wife to follow him to the side entrance, where he gave the officer all their fake details.

"This is great. I'll do the body search and then you can leave, Mr Kiselyov."

Sofia stiffened in Butler's arms.

"I don't feel so good," she mumbled. A moment later she went limp like a puppet on a string, abandoned by its master.

The officer's clipboard clattered to the floor. He gaped at the unconcious woman in Mr Kiselyov's arms.

"Oh my God, is she alright?"

"The nerves, I am afraid. If you don't mind, I'll get my wife back to our hotel," the fake Mr Kiselyov said, easily lifting her up in his arms.

"O-of course. I am so sorry. I hope she'll be fine. Let me show you the exit," the flustered Officer Singh said, stumbling out of their way and forgetting all about the searches he was supposed to conduct. He opened the door to the side entrance and let them leave.

Butler strode down the street with no change in his pace. "You should have gone to Hollywood," he murmured dryly. He felt her cheeks lift into a smile against his shoulder, otherwise remaining limp in his arms.

Two blocks later, he stopped in front of the leased Mercedes. Sofia cracked an eye open and climbed into the car, shifting her weight until she had found a comfortable position.

"Is this how your 'simple missions' usually go?" she asked finally, once Butler had seated himself.

"No. Usually, there are more shootouts," he admitted, his lips lifting into a half smile when she let out a chortled laugh. His shoulders relaxed slightly as he allowed them a moment of respite. This mission had been a close call. As usual. But somehow… He turned to Sofia, who met his gaze with those golden-brown eyes of hers. Like cinnamon, he thought, his smile widening unwittingly. His fake wife. Not the worst role he ever had to play.

Sofia averted her eyes, her cheeks returning to that adorable shade of pink.

"You know," she said, letting her fingers trail over the crimson gem on her wrist, "we could take the bracelet and be halfway across the continent before Artemis even knows we are gone."

Butler chuckled. "All it took for the honourable professor to choose a life of crime was pretty jewellery?"

Sofia's laugh bubbled up, the sound washing over him.

Butler took a breath, baffled at how his pulse did a little jig. This was happening a lot lately. He should get himself checked out, and see if he suffered from heart palpitations, he thought. Stealing one last look at his fake wife, he turned the ignition key, hit the accelerator, and drove off.


Artemis kept adjusting his laser scanner. He had acquired it on the black market from an Egyptian seller. Very interesting, especially when he was trying to drown out the professor's sermonising. She was sitting, declaiming, in one of the comfortable armchairs, whilst Butler tended to her swollen ankle with a compression wrap.

"Butler was nearly shot today, Artemis. Twice," she said.

He rearranged the equipment on the table before finally looking up with a sigh.

"Yes, Professor. You keep repeating yourself. My calculations seem to have been a tad off. I didn't consider the analogue love letter business. An oversight on my part. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Sofia crossed her arms in front of her chest. "How about a heartfelt apology to the man who keeps putting his neck on the line for you?"

Butler straightened, towering over her. "That's my job, Professor," he said sharply.

"Fine," she snapped at him. "Get yourself killed, see if I care."

"Great," Artemis stood, buttoning his jacket, and turned the laser on. "Will you have a look at the inscription, then?"

He expected her to refuse, seeing the red spots on her face and hearing her grinding her teeth. She did get up, and ignoring Butler's hand, hobbled to the table where the laser was pointed at the red gem in the bracelet's frame.

"The inscription is hidden. From the few reports I gathered, I concluded that it must either be hidden within the gem, or inside the frame," Artemis explained matter-of-factly.

"With the necessary equipment, it was easy to extract Solomon's message. If you look here," he held up a white piece of paper opposite an angled mirror, revealing a small red spiral. Sofia squinted. It was impossible to decipher with the naked eye, but the spiral comprised letters, coiling around each other to form a perfect circle.

The boy handed her a magnifying glass, watching her intently as she leaned closer, her head turning one or the other way as she read the winding line.

Once she finished, a small noise escaped her throat. She went back to the start and read everything once more. Then she dropped the magnifying glass to the table. Artemis observed several emotions flickering over her face before she let out a snigger. She leaned on the table, giggling until she held her sides and gasped for breath.

Artemis raised an eyebrow. "What's so funny, Professor? What does the inscription say?"

It took her a moment to compose herself, but every so often a giggle broke free.

"You won't like this."

"What? Is the treasure lost? Is it in the desert?"

She shook her head. "Worse."

"Will you read it? Please," he said, his voice strained.

Chuckling, Sofia translated for him. "Your love is the biggest treasure a man can ever claim. My heart beats faster with a single glance of your eyes. I am forever yours."

A new fit of giggles shook her, seeing Artemis's blank look.

"Come on, Artemis. Admit it, it's a beautiful message. True love is the treasure." She grinned at him.

Artemis dropped the piece of paper to the table, turning the laser off.

"You aren't good for business, Professor," he finally said, holding the bracelet out to her. Sofia took it, peering into the stone, looking for the declaration of love that hid in broad daylight.

"Would she have been able to read it with no aid? How did Solomon put it in there?" she asked, offering it to Butler, who had crept closer at the mention of a love story.

"Unlikely," Artemis said, dismantling the laser and keeping his eyes fixed on the delicate components. "He had it etched into the frame before the stone was set in. The Queen of Sheba didn't know."

"Then she wore the bracelet all that time, never knowing that Solomon loved her. That's so tragic," Sofia said, her eyes trailing over the bracelet's golden etchings.

"It's yours, Professor. If you like it that much," Artemis offered.

"Are you crazy? I want neither the police nor the Mafia knocking on my door, thank you very much. You can add it to your hoard."

The boy regarded her for a moment before shrugging. "Your help is very much appreciated, Professor. Butler, will you please drive the professor home?"

"It's okay, Artemis. I can get the subway."

"The subway?" Artemis looked horrified. "Nonsense. You'll get mugged in your current state. Butler will get you home in one piece. It's the least we can do for your efforts."

Sofia considered protesting, but resigned in the end.

"Fine. Just… Artemis," she searched for words she hadn't already said. He, however, anticipated it and held out his hand.

"I'll be more careful, next time. I value Butler beyond his job description, and it would deeply perturb me if anything were to happen to him because of an infantile miscalculation on my part."

Certainly not the answer she had hoped for, but it was the closest he'd ever come to an actual apology. Gripping his hand, she shook it.

"You better."

Artemis watched them leave before studying the bracelet with a sour expression. He picked up an envelope, addressing it to The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

"Really, Solomon. I expected better from you."


Thirty minutes. It took thirty minutes to drive back to her apartment, but it felt like three hours in the uncomfortable silence. Sofia stared out of the window, ready to make a run for it as soon as Butler stopped in front of her apartment complex.

Head held up high, she had successfully slammed the door shut and hobbled off when she got yanked back. She whirled around and let out a colourful Italian curse at her traitorous dress, caught in the car door. Limping back, she freed herself while Butler calmly got out from his side without even trying to hide his grin. She shot him a dirty look, which did nothing to scare him away. He followed her, observing how she fought her way up the first five steps and into the building.

"I'll carry you upstairs if you ask me," he said, after he murmured something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "stubborn woman".

"I'll be fine!"

"Okay," he said with a shrug, crossing his arms. And waited. Five minutes later, Sofia's shoulders dropped. She let out an exhausted huff and peeked over her shoulder.

"Please, help me," she said through clenched teeth.

Butler's grin widened. He jogged up to her side and lifted her off the ground, effortlessly climbing the stairs and cradling her to his chest like a precious porcelain doll. Sofia stared at a point at the wall, but found it harder and harder to maintain her indignation.

That's my job, Professor!

Keeping people safe. Possibly getting killed on the job. And unless Artemis sent her an obituary, she'd never even know. Her arms tightened around his shoulders. The sudden revelation, combined with the adrenaline crash after their ordeal in the auction house, hit her like a kick in the teeth.

Too soon, Butler reached the fifth-floor landing, stopping in front of her flat. He put her on to her own two feet and stepped back. Sofia blinked rapidly, shivering at the loss of his body warmth.

"Take it easy for a while. It's a sprained ankle, but it should heal within the next three weeks. If it doesn't, see a doctor."

Sofia nodded, looking up at him. "I lied," she blurted out before he could turn around and disappear forever.

Butler raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"I would mind if you got killed," she said, reaching out to gently tug at his lapel, straightening an imaginary crease, and forcing a half-smile. "Who else would entertain me with their made-up soldier stories?"

He chuckled, and Sofia pulled her hand back, despite wanting to do the exact opposite. They were silent.

"I should go."

"Yes, of course."

Neither of them moved, waiting for a cue that never came. Sofia leaned in for a hug, Butler held out his hand. Spluttering an apology, she jumped back, extending her hand while Butler changed his stance to go in for a hug. Both froze. Heat crept up Sofia's neck. Butler grimaced, staring at a spot on the ceiling.

He cleared his throat in the awkward silence.

"Hug?"

Sofia nodded and stepped into his embrace, avoiding his eyes.

"Please take care," she mumbled into his chest.

His arms tightened around her shoulders. "Ya tebe pozvonyu."

The End…

… for now.


Italian:

Non è il momento giusto! – Not the right moment (to think about that)!

Concentrarti! – Focus!

La Cosa Nostra li possiede tutti. – The Cosa Nostra owns them all.

Russian:

Milochkalove, darling

Ya tebe pozvonyu. - I'll call you.


A/N: Finito. For now, anyway. I am sorry, but there is more. Will be more. Because we don't chisel away at Butler's emotional walls to give up halfway, do we? No, we go all the way. Notice how I say we, hoping that you'll agree and come along on that journey? Yeah, I am subtle that way.

I hope the ending was to your liking! There was a little bit of everything in it, me thinks? Fluff, angst, adrenaline induced forbidden thoughts…

Either way, a quick note on this story: I kept telling people that Alderidge kind of became a villain all on his own. And I wondered if I had thought of him as the villain during the outlining phase. So, I went back to my notes. Now, I say outlining phase, but it's a very broad term in my case. It's a lot of bullet points, sentences I come up with, and really basic/bad English.

I don't know if anyone would be interested in seeing the notes (or if anyone can read my handwriting), but I posted them on tumblr. It's nothing special, but I noticed I had just written "shit hits the fan" and "badies?", so clearly, half the time, I don't know what I am doing, haha. Also, the Kiselyovs were once the Cholmondeleys, because I thought that was a ridiculously long name.

Anyway, thank you all so much for coming along on this ride. Take care, and see/read you soon!