Disclaimer: Yada-yada-yada. I don't own them. Get off my case.
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Holly was on the couch in Root's living room reading "Gambling With Time", a book by the author of "Time Holders", when Root came home.
"Why aren't you downstairs?" he asked gruffly.
Holly looked up, a little surprised. "I thought that since we're friends, or at least I think of us that way, we might want to spend some time together?" She said it as a question.
"Alright. Fine," he snapped and went into his bedroom.
Holly stared after him, hurt. Of course she had plenty of friends, but she thought that Root was quickly becoming one of her *good* friends. And even if he wasn't, what right did he have to yell at her now? He should be *glad* for her.
Holly sighed and went back to reading, not admitting to herself just how much it hurt.
A few minutes later, Root came out of his room and said, "Holly?"
"If you don't consider us friends, then it's Short," Holly said shortly, not looking up from her book.
"No, I do. I wanted to apologize for not letting you go home early and for yelling just now," Root replied. "I was reminded of something right before I usually leave. That's why it's eight forty-five."
Holly glanced at the clock. She hadn't even noticed. "Reminded of what?"
"In a week from Friday, there are promotions, so I have to . . ."
Holly went back to reading, ignoring the rest of what he was saying. *She* certainly wasn't getting a promotion, not after what she had done.
"Holly, did you hear anything I just said?" Root asked about half way through his explanation. When she didn't answer, he sighed. "Holly . . ." Still nothing. He waved a hand in front of her face.
"What?" she snapped. "I know I'm not getting a promotion, so there's no real point in me listening to you, is there?"
"Yes, actually, there is," Root replied, sitting on the couch next to her. "I *have* to bring somebody up to Lieutenant because I might be retiring soon-"
"What?" Holly gasped. "You can't retire!"
"Why not?" Root spat. "I've been working in the LEP since I was your age and believe me, I'm much older now. I have easily have enough money to retire and, frankly, I don't want to *always* have to think about work."
"But you can't retire!" Holly insisted. "The LEP needs you!"
"No they don't," Root replied. "They need a good commander. That's why we need to promote a very good Captain to Lieutenant so they can be further trained for becoming a commander."
"Who were you thinking of bringing up?" Holly asked. "Considering the whole terrorist thing, Trouble might work nicely."
"I was thinking of you," Root replied.
Holly stared at him. "What? After me going up to the Upper Elements on an illegal shuttle, staying with Artemis Fowl and all that, you *can't* promote me!"
"I don't know yet," Root repeated. "But, even though I know you skipped this part when you were promoted to Captain, there *is* a dance right after and I'm going to have to help organize that at the same time deciding who to bring up to Lieutenant and convince the Counsel to go along with my decision."
"Well, I do feel bad for you, but I know you've done a fine job in the past," Holly assured him. "Rather, I've *heard* that you've done a fine job. I wouldn't be caught dead at a dance as you well know."
"And *you* know that if you get promoted to Lieutenant, then it would no longer an option," Root told her.
"What? Why?" Holly asked, surprised. "That's not fair!"
"Yeah, well go bug the Counsel about it," Root snapped. "So if you get the promotion, I expect to see you there, if only for one dance."
"If I go, I have to *dance*?" Holly asked him incredulously. "You're starting to put up a very good case for not wanting a promotion."
Root smiled slightly. "That's all well and good, but if I were you, I'd buy a dress."
"I *can't* be promoted, though," Holly repeated in exasperation. "Not after what just happened. You said so your self!"
"If I had the choice, I would wait as well, since I know the Counsel won't go for it. But the Counsel is insisting that if I'm even *thinking* about retiring, then I need to bring up a Captain to Lieutenant to train. And, frankly, when I retire, I want you as Commander."
"Thank you, sir," Holly mumbled, looking down.
"At any rate, I should start planning it," Root replied and went into his room.
Holly stared after him, still attempting to process the information. Root retiring. Her getting promoted. A dance. She shivered. She *hated* wearing any sort of dress and hadn't worn one, aside from at funerals, since she was about ten. Which meant that she couldn't dance. At all.
"But that's ok," Holly told herself. "It's just one dance. One. If, of course, I get it."
*
Holly glanced at the clock. It was twelve. She smiled. On Fridays, lunch was her favourite part of the day. As always, she checked her email before going down to the break room. She groaned. She had five emails, four of which she could put off. One was from Root.
Holly sat down again and opened it. He wanted to talk to her. "Great," she mumbled to herself as she walked down to his office. Except for the conversation about promotions, he had barely said anything since Frond had been caught, preferring to stay either in his office or his room. In fact, he had been so antisocial, Holly had taken to spending more time in the basement rather than waiting for one of the five-minute segments when he wasn't in the middle of something.
"Come in," Root called out when she knocked on his door.
Holly walked into his office and sat down on the chair, trying to ignore the aching in her stomach that told her she really needed to eat. "Yes?" she asked, probably a little more impatiently than was needed.
"As you know, promotions are coming up," he started.
"Yeah, yeah," Holly mumbled inaudibly under her breath. Of course she knew. She had only spent every minute thinking about them since Root had told her about his possible retirement.
Root glared at her. "If you want to be promoted, I'd recommend not interrupting."
"Yessir," Holly said, refusing to her let excitement show on her face.
"Considering how hard you've been working and your high number of successful recons, you are being promoted," Root said, moving a piece of paper on his desk towards Holly. "Congratulations, Lieutenant Short."
Holly stared at the paper, not quite daring to believe it. She didn't pick it up, somehow thinking that this was all a cruel joke. "Th-thank you, sir," she eventually stammered, finally taking the paper.
"As it says on the paper, the official ceremony is in exactly a week, followed by a dance which you *need* to go to, Short, even though I know you don't want to," Root said, the last part louder than necessary.
"Yessir," Holly said.
"You can go now," Root replied.
"Thank you again," she said, gave him a quick salute and left. The first place she went was the Ops booth. "Foaly, lemme in!" Holly said excitedly.
"What is it this time?" Foaly asked as he let her in. "You stuck here again?"
"No!" Holly waved the paper in his face. "I'm being promoted!"
Foaly rolled his eyes. "Holly, that's not new news. Everybody knows that Root wants you to be Commander when he retires, which means that he has to train you. Just to let you know, when Root was being trained by Commander Lark, he never let up on him. *Never*. Just a warning."
"He never lets up on me anyways," Holly replied. "And it's new news to me."
"Well, congratulations," Foaly said, smiling. "And believe me, I look forward to the day when you're Commander."
"Well, I don't think that will be any time soon," Holly replied. "I mean, he *does* have to train me."
Foaly shrugged. "Whatever. I'm assuming he told you that you have to go to the dance after?"
Holly grimaced. "Yes. And he said I have to actually *dance* at least once."
Foaly shrugged. "That's the price of being a lieutenant."
"Foaly, are you aware of the fact that I have never once danced and haven't worn a dress since I was ten?" she asked him.
"I'm sure that's true, but I'm also sure that you'd rather wear a dress and dance one dance once than not be Lieutenant," Foaly told her.
"Yeah, I guess, but the problem with dancing, aside from the fact that I don't know how, is that I don't have anyone to dance with," Holly said.
"Are you in love?" he asked.
"What?" Holly snapped. "That's none of your business!"
"Well, if you are, then dance with him," Foaly suggested.
"No . . . that's not an option, Foaly," Holly replied.
"You don't have to *tell* him that you love him. You just have to *dance* with him," Foaly pointed out.
"I can't dance with him. Believe me," she insisted.
"Who is he?" Foaly asked.
"There is no way in earth that I'm going to tell you," Holly snapped. "You'd tell him instantly, and if not him, the rest of the LEP."
"Come on, Holly. I promise I won't tell him. In fact, I can set it up," Foaly offered. "I can tell whatever band there is what song to play when and go get him. You can pretend that you have no idea that you already knew about it."
"No," Holly replied and was about to walk out when Foaly asked,
"It's Root, isn't it?"
Holly turned around, her facing turning to a hue that could possibly be redder than Root's had ever been. "No. I am not in love with Julius Root," she said, her jaw clenched.
"Really?" Foaly pestered. "Methinks she doth protest too much. It's from Shakespeare, if you didn't already know."
"You're insane!" Holly yelled.
"You love him, Holly. I'll see what I can do about it," Foaly replied.
"Foaly . . ." Holly warned. "If one word of this leaves your mouth to anybody else . . ."
"I knew it!" Foaly crowed. "It's so obvious!"
"Promise me," Holly growled.
"Promise," Foaly said and let Holly out of the booth.
It was only then that she realized what she had said. Holly felt herself blushing and a slow smile creeping up her face. "I can't believe it . . . I love him."
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Ok, ok. I know this is really, really, really short, but that's ok because if you add 10 (the number of pages in my last chapter) and 6 (the number of pages in this chapter), you get 16 and if you divide that by 2, you get 8 and that's the average number of pages in my chapters, so it's ok, right? Right? RIGHT???? *takes a deep breath and calms down* Sorry about that. I'll try to get the next chapter up soon.
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Holly was on the couch in Root's living room reading "Gambling With Time", a book by the author of "Time Holders", when Root came home.
"Why aren't you downstairs?" he asked gruffly.
Holly looked up, a little surprised. "I thought that since we're friends, or at least I think of us that way, we might want to spend some time together?" She said it as a question.
"Alright. Fine," he snapped and went into his bedroom.
Holly stared after him, hurt. Of course she had plenty of friends, but she thought that Root was quickly becoming one of her *good* friends. And even if he wasn't, what right did he have to yell at her now? He should be *glad* for her.
Holly sighed and went back to reading, not admitting to herself just how much it hurt.
A few minutes later, Root came out of his room and said, "Holly?"
"If you don't consider us friends, then it's Short," Holly said shortly, not looking up from her book.
"No, I do. I wanted to apologize for not letting you go home early and for yelling just now," Root replied. "I was reminded of something right before I usually leave. That's why it's eight forty-five."
Holly glanced at the clock. She hadn't even noticed. "Reminded of what?"
"In a week from Friday, there are promotions, so I have to . . ."
Holly went back to reading, ignoring the rest of what he was saying. *She* certainly wasn't getting a promotion, not after what she had done.
"Holly, did you hear anything I just said?" Root asked about half way through his explanation. When she didn't answer, he sighed. "Holly . . ." Still nothing. He waved a hand in front of her face.
"What?" she snapped. "I know I'm not getting a promotion, so there's no real point in me listening to you, is there?"
"Yes, actually, there is," Root replied, sitting on the couch next to her. "I *have* to bring somebody up to Lieutenant because I might be retiring soon-"
"What?" Holly gasped. "You can't retire!"
"Why not?" Root spat. "I've been working in the LEP since I was your age and believe me, I'm much older now. I have easily have enough money to retire and, frankly, I don't want to *always* have to think about work."
"But you can't retire!" Holly insisted. "The LEP needs you!"
"No they don't," Root replied. "They need a good commander. That's why we need to promote a very good Captain to Lieutenant so they can be further trained for becoming a commander."
"Who were you thinking of bringing up?" Holly asked. "Considering the whole terrorist thing, Trouble might work nicely."
"I was thinking of you," Root replied.
Holly stared at him. "What? After me going up to the Upper Elements on an illegal shuttle, staying with Artemis Fowl and all that, you *can't* promote me!"
"I don't know yet," Root repeated. "But, even though I know you skipped this part when you were promoted to Captain, there *is* a dance right after and I'm going to have to help organize that at the same time deciding who to bring up to Lieutenant and convince the Counsel to go along with my decision."
"Well, I do feel bad for you, but I know you've done a fine job in the past," Holly assured him. "Rather, I've *heard* that you've done a fine job. I wouldn't be caught dead at a dance as you well know."
"And *you* know that if you get promoted to Lieutenant, then it would no longer an option," Root told her.
"What? Why?" Holly asked, surprised. "That's not fair!"
"Yeah, well go bug the Counsel about it," Root snapped. "So if you get the promotion, I expect to see you there, if only for one dance."
"If I go, I have to *dance*?" Holly asked him incredulously. "You're starting to put up a very good case for not wanting a promotion."
Root smiled slightly. "That's all well and good, but if I were you, I'd buy a dress."
"I *can't* be promoted, though," Holly repeated in exasperation. "Not after what just happened. You said so your self!"
"If I had the choice, I would wait as well, since I know the Counsel won't go for it. But the Counsel is insisting that if I'm even *thinking* about retiring, then I need to bring up a Captain to Lieutenant to train. And, frankly, when I retire, I want you as Commander."
"Thank you, sir," Holly mumbled, looking down.
"At any rate, I should start planning it," Root replied and went into his room.
Holly stared after him, still attempting to process the information. Root retiring. Her getting promoted. A dance. She shivered. She *hated* wearing any sort of dress and hadn't worn one, aside from at funerals, since she was about ten. Which meant that she couldn't dance. At all.
"But that's ok," Holly told herself. "It's just one dance. One. If, of course, I get it."
*
Holly glanced at the clock. It was twelve. She smiled. On Fridays, lunch was her favourite part of the day. As always, she checked her email before going down to the break room. She groaned. She had five emails, four of which she could put off. One was from Root.
Holly sat down again and opened it. He wanted to talk to her. "Great," she mumbled to herself as she walked down to his office. Except for the conversation about promotions, he had barely said anything since Frond had been caught, preferring to stay either in his office or his room. In fact, he had been so antisocial, Holly had taken to spending more time in the basement rather than waiting for one of the five-minute segments when he wasn't in the middle of something.
"Come in," Root called out when she knocked on his door.
Holly walked into his office and sat down on the chair, trying to ignore the aching in her stomach that told her she really needed to eat. "Yes?" she asked, probably a little more impatiently than was needed.
"As you know, promotions are coming up," he started.
"Yeah, yeah," Holly mumbled inaudibly under her breath. Of course she knew. She had only spent every minute thinking about them since Root had told her about his possible retirement.
Root glared at her. "If you want to be promoted, I'd recommend not interrupting."
"Yessir," Holly said, refusing to her let excitement show on her face.
"Considering how hard you've been working and your high number of successful recons, you are being promoted," Root said, moving a piece of paper on his desk towards Holly. "Congratulations, Lieutenant Short."
Holly stared at the paper, not quite daring to believe it. She didn't pick it up, somehow thinking that this was all a cruel joke. "Th-thank you, sir," she eventually stammered, finally taking the paper.
"As it says on the paper, the official ceremony is in exactly a week, followed by a dance which you *need* to go to, Short, even though I know you don't want to," Root said, the last part louder than necessary.
"Yessir," Holly said.
"You can go now," Root replied.
"Thank you again," she said, gave him a quick salute and left. The first place she went was the Ops booth. "Foaly, lemme in!" Holly said excitedly.
"What is it this time?" Foaly asked as he let her in. "You stuck here again?"
"No!" Holly waved the paper in his face. "I'm being promoted!"
Foaly rolled his eyes. "Holly, that's not new news. Everybody knows that Root wants you to be Commander when he retires, which means that he has to train you. Just to let you know, when Root was being trained by Commander Lark, he never let up on him. *Never*. Just a warning."
"He never lets up on me anyways," Holly replied. "And it's new news to me."
"Well, congratulations," Foaly said, smiling. "And believe me, I look forward to the day when you're Commander."
"Well, I don't think that will be any time soon," Holly replied. "I mean, he *does* have to train me."
Foaly shrugged. "Whatever. I'm assuming he told you that you have to go to the dance after?"
Holly grimaced. "Yes. And he said I have to actually *dance* at least once."
Foaly shrugged. "That's the price of being a lieutenant."
"Foaly, are you aware of the fact that I have never once danced and haven't worn a dress since I was ten?" she asked him.
"I'm sure that's true, but I'm also sure that you'd rather wear a dress and dance one dance once than not be Lieutenant," Foaly told her.
"Yeah, I guess, but the problem with dancing, aside from the fact that I don't know how, is that I don't have anyone to dance with," Holly said.
"Are you in love?" he asked.
"What?" Holly snapped. "That's none of your business!"
"Well, if you are, then dance with him," Foaly suggested.
"No . . . that's not an option, Foaly," Holly replied.
"You don't have to *tell* him that you love him. You just have to *dance* with him," Foaly pointed out.
"I can't dance with him. Believe me," she insisted.
"Who is he?" Foaly asked.
"There is no way in earth that I'm going to tell you," Holly snapped. "You'd tell him instantly, and if not him, the rest of the LEP."
"Come on, Holly. I promise I won't tell him. In fact, I can set it up," Foaly offered. "I can tell whatever band there is what song to play when and go get him. You can pretend that you have no idea that you already knew about it."
"No," Holly replied and was about to walk out when Foaly asked,
"It's Root, isn't it?"
Holly turned around, her facing turning to a hue that could possibly be redder than Root's had ever been. "No. I am not in love with Julius Root," she said, her jaw clenched.
"Really?" Foaly pestered. "Methinks she doth protest too much. It's from Shakespeare, if you didn't already know."
"You're insane!" Holly yelled.
"You love him, Holly. I'll see what I can do about it," Foaly replied.
"Foaly . . ." Holly warned. "If one word of this leaves your mouth to anybody else . . ."
"I knew it!" Foaly crowed. "It's so obvious!"
"Promise me," Holly growled.
"Promise," Foaly said and let Holly out of the booth.
It was only then that she realized what she had said. Holly felt herself blushing and a slow smile creeping up her face. "I can't believe it . . . I love him."
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Ok, ok. I know this is really, really, really short, but that's ok because if you add 10 (the number of pages in my last chapter) and 6 (the number of pages in this chapter), you get 16 and if you divide that by 2, you get 8 and that's the average number of pages in my chapters, so it's ok, right? Right? RIGHT???? *takes a deep breath and calms down* Sorry about that. I'll try to get the next chapter up soon.