Okay, so I've had this story in my back pocket for a while. I wasn't going to post it yet, but I've been a bit inactive lately, so I feel as though I owe you guys something good. And I really like this story. So yeah.

I won't drag on too much. But fair warning, it is a human AU. I'm changing some things around, but not too much. And I know it doesn't say romance in the genres, but if you know my stories at all, you know there will be A/H. I don't know how long this will be or if the rating will bump at all yet, but I have a good feeling about this one. So look out. ;)

Prelude

"Lock pick?"

"Check."

"Override card?"

"Check."

"Weapons stash?"

"Check."

"And how about the-"

A deep, heavy voice, tinged with irritation interrupted. "The building blueprints are in my bag as well, sir. I appreciate the help, but I do believe I have everything."

"Really? Everything, you say?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well then," snapped his superior, turning around and pointing at his employee behind him, "I suppose you have your monkey, too?"

The other man froze, blinking, then finally collected himself and said, rather dumbly, "What?"

"Your monkey," repeated the first. "Where is he? The car, I suppose?"

The lower-ranking man stilled for a second, not answering. Then the words seemed to sink in and he frowned deeply, turning around and heading back for the door with a low growl. "Mulch!"

As the other man disappeared back inside the motel that was their headquarters, the first one leaned against the wall by the door and smirked. "It's great to always be right," he said to the empty air, then headed for the car waiting down the road, smirk firmly intact.

1.

Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock… Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring…

Holly Short frowned down at her car's radio, then reached out and punched the button to flip the station. It was Christmas time, granted, and she knew it was supposed to be a happy, jolly time of year... but she swore on the soul of whatever god was out there that if she heard one more damn Christmas carol before she managed to reach her house, she was going to snap. Jingle Bell Rock in itself had played four times in the last hour, and by the gods, she sick of hearing it already.

Not that her effort in changing the radio had helped much. Now it was just Holly Jolly Christmas instead of Jingle Bell Rock, which wasn't much better. Jingle Bell Rock had only been on four times, but Holly Jolly Christmas had been on six. Six. She'd been in the car a few hours, granted, but six was just too high a number for her sanity to take.

She pulled a CD out of her console and thrust it into the player with more force than was strictly necessary, and when the music started to play, she allowed herself to breathe out a sigh of relief. This one should last until she was remotely close to home, at least.

It was Christmas time in Holly's hometown of Haven, and everywhere else in the country for that matter. She had started the nearly eight hour drive from the academy to her childhood home roughly seven and a half hours ago, and she couldn't be happier that her drive was almost over. Not only that, but that it would end right back home at her parents old house, where she could collapse into bed without having to deal with any people and get some well-deserved rest after so long in the car. If her parents weren't up - which at this hour it wasn't likely they were - then she'd probably scare the hell out of them when they woke because they would have no idea she was there, but she didn't care at this point. Her eyes were drooping as she drove and the only thing stopping her from pulling over, reclining the seat, and going to sleep in the car right here on the side of the road was that fact that she recognized the scenery around her and she knew it wouldn't be much longer before she made it home.

With the change in music, her mood lifted slightly, and the last few minutes of the drive home that had previously been dragging seemed to come at least a little bit faster to her. It seemed like very little time had past from her switching the disk to the time she turned around the final bend and her old home came into view.

Holly's childhood home was no real sight to behold in itself, if she was being honest. It was a modest two story house with few windows and only two doors to get in or out - a front and a back. It was painted a dark shade of blue that had faded over time from azure to almost sky blue, with three windows facing out towards the driveway. Two were higher up, closer to the roof and above the small front porch leading to the main door, and one was set in the wall to the right of the door itself. Peeking through it, she could see some the left side of the kitchen, although not a whole lot through the dim lighting of the early morning. It was a quaint, but sturdy structure; not fancy at all, but homey, and it served the purpose of keeping a roof over their heads for as long as she could remember.

She shut the car off and walked slowly to the front door, her keys dangling off of her finger. Not bothering to lock the car or get her bags out of it, she jogged up the porch steps and let herself in the front door. She closed and locked it again behind her, then, basic survival instinct and exhaustion taking over, legged it as fast as possible while still being quiet into the living room and collapsed on the couch.

She didn't remember anything after letting herself fall into the cushion. As soon as her back hit solid, soft furniture and she let her eyes close, they didn't open again for a solid five hours.

When she eventually did wake up, she immediately realized that several things were different from when she'd fallen asleep. She was covered up, for one. And then, when she sat up, she saw her keys were on the table, her bags were across the room, and her dad was sitting on the armchair opposite her.

He glanced over at her when she sat up and chuckled dryly. Holly realized she must be quite a sight - unruly bed head, dirty clothes, and she still hadn't even blinked the sleep from her eyes yet. She probably looked like a wild animal.

"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty," guffawed her father. He took a sip from the blue coffee mug in his hand and asked, "Sleep well?"

"I don't remember falling asleep," Holly admitted. "So I must have."

"I'm not surprised. You were already out by the time I made it downstairs with the gun." He frowned and shook his head. "By the way, next time you're coming home that late, let me know. I'll leave the door unlocked for you and I won't come down the stairs with my revolver at the sound of the door opening."

Holly blinked and nodded. She'd almost forgotten how paranoid her father got when things went bump in the night. His wariness came from all of the years he spent in the police force. He knew what evils were out there and he was never keen on the idea of giving them a chance to get to his family. He kept his modified revolver in the nightstand beside his bed, within arm's reach, just in case something happened.

Stretching out the kinks in her stiff muscles, Holly got to her feet and headed to the kitchen without a word, knowing her father would follow. As she headed to the fridge in search of a suitable meal, he settled down at the islanded table in the center of the floor and watch her, sipping his coffee. "There should be some eggs in there," he commented. "I can make you an omelet."

"Or you could let me make my own food so it's actually edible," she muttered, more to herself than him. He rolled his eyes.

"If you'd rather do it yourself, go ahead. It was just an offer. This thing called chivalry, you see, and good hosting skills. I know you kids don't see that much these days, but it's still a thing."

Holly did not comment as she moved from the refrigerator to the stove, egg carton in hand. She went to dig out a pan and spatula, only to find them gone from their usual draw. "Where's the skillet?"

"The sink," replied Christopher absentmindedly. He'd turned his attention from her to the paper, reading the cover article. "Your mother didn't wash the dishes again."

"Oh, hush up," a new voice chimed from the doorway. "I'll get to them when I get to them, and you damn well know it. I don't see you doing them."

Holly didn't have to turn around to identify the new voice's source, but she did anyway, beaming. "Morning, Mom."

Coral Short smiled back. "Good morning, dear. Sleep well?"

Holly nodded. "Once I got here, that is. Frond, it's such a long drive… I was exhausted." She looked at her father. "I don't remember him trying to shoot me, anyway."

Coral smiled and shook her head, making her way around the table to sit next to her husband. "You should've told us you weren't getting back until late, Holly. You know how your father is."

"That's what I- hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Chris turned and cocked his head at his wife, looking mock-offended.

"You know exactly what I mean," she responded, and Holly had to giggle. Coral looked at her daughter again and smiled, standing up and moving around to touch her arm. "Here, Holly. Why don't you leave that be and go get cleaned up? We can just go out somewhere." Holly opened her mouth to say something, but Coral held up her hand. "No, don't say anything. It's our treat. Just go."

Sighing slightly, but unwilling to protest because, in all honesty, that sounded really good to her, Holly nodded and gave her mother a quick hug. "Fine. I'll go get a shower then. Be back in a few." She kissed her cheek and disappeared from the room. Coral smiled as she left and turned around, beginning to rinse off dishes to put in the dishwasher.

Chris waited until he knew Holly would be far enough gone to be out of hearing range, then looked at his wife and shook his head. "Coral, I don't have time to go out with you. You know that. I have to work."

She glanced over her shoulder to scowled reprovingly at her husband. "You will come out with us and visit with your daughter for the whole one hour it will take for us to find a place and eat. It won't kill you or Julius."

"He won't like that," muttered Christopher, taking another sip of his coffee.

"He'll cope," Coral said sharply. "And if he really wants to fight about it, then I'll talk to him myself."

"He won't like that either." Chris rolled his eyes and laid down his paper. "I can't imagine him being in a good mood, but today it's probably exceptionally bad. Look at this." He pointed to an article in the right side column of the second page.

Coral sighed and shut off the water, grabbing a hand towel as she moved back around the counter to glance over her husband's shoulder at the paper. As soon as she started reading, a frown appeared on her face and she pulled the paper closer to her to look at it closer. When she finished, she took a step back and shook her head. "My goodness. It's that Fowl character again."

"Yeah," Chris agreed gruffly. "He's becoming more and more of an issue. To see this…" He paused, unable to find the right words, and shook his head. "His corporation of crimes and followers is growing to the point where he's nearly an international threat. And he's getting bigger and bigger with the scale of his schemes."

The woman sighed and shook her head, touching her husband's shoulder lightly. "Chris, this… this is only getting bigger. I don't like you being involved in this stuff in the first place, but this… I mean, what if he-.."

"It's my job, Coral, and we've talked about this," Christopher interrupted sharply. "I have to do what I have to do. Eventually he'll screw up and we'll catch him. That will be it, if me or Root has any say in the matter. We'll get him."

"And what if he doesn't screw up?" She looked at him anxiously. "What if you can't?"

Chris shrugged and looked at her with steely determination in his eyes. "We'll sure as hell be the closest."

I included the prelude with the first chapter since it was so short. Also, I know this wasn't too eventful so far, but it will take a few chapters to get really good, so just hang in there. :)