In a few reviews someone pointed out some mistakes. Apparently Sool was in Internal Affairs—but I'll fix that up next chapter.

But I do have an explanation for the time. It never states what year it is in the books (at least I don't think it does), and I always imagined it'd be sometime in the future. So in this story, it would be around our time or a little bit back. Not in the nineteenth century or anything.

And about the Holly/Trouble thing… I can't do it. Tried so many times (that's why the chapter took so long), can't do it. So I'm wrapping it up this chapter and taking the genre off romance. Really really sorry, all you people who wanted HT. I actually very very very subtly got the idea to wrap it up from the movie Memoirs of a Geisha, but that's not the point.

Summary: Right after Holly gets a job in the LEP, she cuts her hair. Each auburn lock falling through the floor makes her think about choices, and especially their consequences. What will happen after?

Disclaimer: I don't own Artemis Fowl. Eoin Colfer does. I do own Crunchball, though. Not the idea of Crunchball, but the rules and stuff. Which as long as I get some credit, everyone else is free to use.

Haircut

Chapter Nineteen

It went on like that for about a month. Holly would go to Crunchball games, get a job, get fired at or quit said job, and all in the space of a week, allowing the process to begin itself again. It ended up that she turned off her home phone because of all the times her bosses had called to tell her that she was jobless yet again. Now she used her mobile phone, which only a select few had. Namely Foaly, Trouble, and a few of the Crunchball team. She would normally chat with them while Jon (his last name, she had finally figured out, was Brown) did the playing.

She was almost to her front step from quitting a museum job (she didn't like art much) when her phone rang.

"Holly! Where are you?" It was Foaly.

She blinked. "About three steps from home. Why?"

"You're supposed to be at the LEP building. The Commanders are holding a meeting with all the ex-workers."

"I am?"

"Didn't you get the message?"

Holly ran up to her door. On her doormat was a piece of paper with several dirty boot prints on it. Oops.

"Oh. Okay, I'll be there soon."

She was already running as she said those words.

At the next traffic light, her phone rang again. "Hello?"

This time, it was Trouble. "Holly! Did you get the—"

"Message? Yeah, sorry I'm late. Foaly just called me—"

"Late? It starts in ten minutes. I thought I'd remind you, but it looks like Foaly got there first. He probably knew you'd forget or be late."

Holly swore. "D'arvit! Aaargh, I can't believe him!" Her anger was fueled by the fact that she had missed the light talking to Trouble.

"Well, he got you to get moving, didn't he?"

"I would've left anyway."

She heard Trouble chuckle through the phone. "No, you wouldn't have."

"Alright, maybe I would have waited a couple minutes, but I wouldn't have been late!"

"Yes, you would have. Also, I have something to tell you. Meet me at Bowlier's at three?" Bowlier's was rather like Haven's version of a fast-food restaurant. For the last health movement, they had added a free applesauce in every meal. Wasn't a big hit.

"Something to tell me, eh? Will I like it?"

She could almost hear him smile. "Oh yeah. Bring a tranquilizer gun, I might have to use it on you if you get too excited."

But she didn't have much time to think about this exciting news. The lights flashed and the cars stopped for her to get across. "Sure, three works. Here, I'll talk to you later, Trouble." She hung up and crossed the street. The LEP building was only a couple blocks down, which was mostly why she managed not to be late to work. When she worked there, anyway.

Well, there was that snack shop right between her house and the LEP building. It sold her favorite flavor of smoothie. Nettle. Yum.

But off of that subject. Holly hurried into the building, squeezing through the many fired workers that were chattering with worried faces. Will they get their jobs back? Would they ever? Holly wished she knew too.

She finally spotted Trouble towards the right side of the building. She could barely make him out, and only because he was wearing his favorite red shirt. Funny, mostly because the People didn't normally wear red. Greens, browns, a little bit of blacks or dark blues, but not… red. Trouble had six different red shirts, a purple, and three yellow—but no, she had given up that little fixation of him long ago.

Struggling between all the male sprites, pixies, and elves, she reached him just in time. Commander Root was up at the podium, clearing his throat.

"Told you I wouldn't be late."

"Actually, you are." Trouble smirked. "You missed the opening passage. Now the commander's just getting to the main point."

As if on cue, Root started to speak. "I'm sure many of you were surprised to get our summons," he said, "and we have done as much as possible to get all of the workers who were let out because of the robbery here today."

Holly frowned. "Didn't seem like that to me," she whispered to Trouble. He shrugged. "Maybe if you had checked your phone, you'd see the astonishing amount of messages left because you didn't respond to the letter."

She was about to say that her phone didn't have any messages, when—oh yes. Her home phone, which she turned off. Oops. Holly remained quiet and listened to Root's speech.

"—and we have regained a small sum of money thanks to the Crunchball team, which we will be using to bring back some of the workers here."

A pause. This took time to register in the former LEP officers minds, and when they did—well, everyone gaped, hoping it'd be them. Back to work? No more persistent buggering by C.A.S.H.? (The Career Ascends to Success in Haven, just in case you have forgotten) This was cause for celebration!—if it was you that got your job back.

"We have spoken to the Council about this, and have agreed to bring back the Traffic workers due to dramatically rising levels of theft, crashes, and general mischief on the streets. Because of the sheer number of Traffic workers needed to patrol the streets sufficiently, many of us commanders have been dismissed. All that is left is me and Commander Garnet, who is here beside me." A wiry-haired sprite standing by Root nodded his greeting at the crowd.

But the crowd barely registered any of that. All they heard was bring back the Traffic workers. Two-thirds of the crowd was wallowing in disbelief, while the remaining one-third that was in Traffic was having internal parties. Most of the remaining one-third, anyway.

Holly felt light headed. She had her job back. The job she loved—or rather, would love once she got promoted to Recon. The job she was good at—well, the job she wasn't horrendously bad at, anyway.

Root continued to speak. "But this does not mean we won't be enough to watch or reprimand you if you get out of hand!" He glared at the crowd. "What we lack in numbers we will make up for in extra hours." His partner looked deflated at this prospect. Holly didn't blame him. Extra hours on the job with Commander Root? She wouldn't have enjoyed it either.

"Also, we must tell you not to think about this as if you are fired. When the LEP gets back on steady financial ground, you will all be hired back to your same positions. Think of it rather as if you are on a paid vacation. Just not paid. You still have ties to the LEP."

Trouble groaned. "Like that'll help me," he grumbled. "Paid vacation that's not paid, ha!"

The commander continued to speak. "Also, some of you have complained that you left some important things in your offices or lockers in the LEP building, and since that section was locked, couldn't get them. Well, we have opened the doors for the next hour for you to get any things you might need until we call you back."

His prepared speech continued to go on for a while, mostly restating and paraphrasing everything he had just said, for the sake of the more mentally challenged. This was a clue that the speech itself had been made by someone else, probably his assistant, since Root would never be so considerate.

But after a while, they were released, and Holly made a beeline towards her locker. She opened it up—there didn't seem to be anything she needed at home.

"Don't forget your spare car key." Trouble pointed to a small thing in the back of the locker and took it out. Ah. So that was where it went.

"You went to your office already?" Holly looked at him incredulously.

"No. I know I didn't leave anything—I double-checked before I left in the first place."

"Of course. I should have suspected. You? The least bit disorganized? Ha!"

"Yeah, well—" Trouble stopped, seeing Vein over at his locker. "Oh look, there he is. Been looking all over for him. See you, Holly." He put the key into her hand, giving her that tingling feeling that she recognized from before. She swore lightly. It had stopped—that maniac observing of all his little traits and habits, that almost electric feeling. It had stopped. The last time she remembered it happening was… the last time they had actually come into physical contact. Which was a long time ago.

Drat. So it hadn't gone away—just lay dormant.

She had checked out a book on psychology, when the—er—infatuation was going on. She had been that desperate. And what did it say about her predicament? Talk to someone.

Holly had laughed out loud for ten minutes.

Talk to someone? Talk to someone! Who would she talk to? Certainly not Trouble, and of course not her Crunchball team—they would probably call her a wuss and kick her off the team. Who else was there? Foaly?

Holly couldn't possibly imagine talking to Foaly, of all people, about an—infatuation.

So. Not Trouble, Foaly, or any of her other friends. That left one person.

Herself.

It wasn't really that ludicrous of an idea. Holly didn't really feel silly about talking to herself. She felt silly about the fact that she was resorting to talking to herself. Well, she hadn't had a real female friend since—since—Lili. And Lili didn't count. So if Lili didn't count, then all Lili's friends didn't count. And if all them didn't count, then, well… Holly hadn't really had a real female friend since farther back then she could remember.

It was a little pathetic, really.

But Holly didn't like to dwell in the past. She started to walk out of the building, and began her conversation with herself.

All right. First step in the scientific method: state the problem.

Problem. She thought she was infatuated with Trouble, and he was her friend.

And the rest of the scientific method went out the window, because with such a strange problem hypotheses and variables simply were of no use.

What she could do to resolve said problem—hmm. Well, she reasoned, the problem wasn't with Trouble. It was with herself. So therefore, she had to resolve the problem with herself.

Since she couldn't use the scientific method, might as well go on to the five basic questions.

Who? Trouble.

What? Infatuation.

When? A few weeks after she met him.

Where? At her job. She remembered it started at lunchtime.

Why? Ah, the hard one. Why. Why did she have this… fascination… with him?

How was Trouble different from the others?

Well, for starters, he had told her his real name. Phillip. It was a nice name. And she had always been closer to him then everyone except possibly Foaly.

And suddenly, it struck her in the face like something from a dwarf's backside.

It was because he had been the first one to befriend her.

Foaly she had met because of a wager. Albie and the rest because of the fact that Jon had taken over the game. Sure, she had sat by him on that first day, initiated contact, but he had kept it going. She had come to rely on him, and that was why her brain—for it was her brain, not her—had decided she was infatuated.

Hey, Holly thought it was a pretty convincing argument. Now to see if it worked.

She turned, going to Bowlier's. Two fifty-eight. She'll be a few minutes late. But Trouble would expect it—he knew her that well.

Bowlier's was pretty full, and again Holly had to look around for a few seconds to see his red shirt. He waved her over.

"Nettle smoothie," said Trouble, holding up a glass while sipping his own cup of coffee.

"Thanks." She took the smoothie from him, and their hands touched for a moment.

Nothing. Just the same friendship that had always lodged between them—no tingling feeling like she had just around half an hour ago. What do you know… that little self talk had worked. Maybe she should do it more often.

"So," she said, now feeling quite content, "so. What's this important info?"

He grinned. "Did you bring that tranquilizer?"

"Must've slipped my mind."

"That's too bad. Well," he said, getting back on topic, "remember that time we went to the bank?"

"Yes."

"And I spent about ten minutes staring at that book?"

"Yes."

"Well," he grinned here, drawing out his finish, "that was a book of all the clients of the bank. And you won't believe who I saw."

He had intrigued her fully now. "Who?"

"Amelia Brown."

"What significance is this?" Holly was confused now.

"It's Jon's grandmother. He lied about getting the money from her."

"What! But that could be anyone! A sister, mother, aunt, anyone!"

"No. They had a family account. The main holder was Nathan Brown, and then it said the family members and their relationship to him in parentheses. Jon Brown (son), Amelia Brown (mother), Sylvia Brown (wife), and I don't remember the rest."

"But it could have been the other grandmother who died and left him the money." Holly said, still unsure.

"That's why I didn't tell you at first. I thought the same. But later I went to research, just in case. Jon's grandmother and grandfather on the other side were very poor. She didn't have enough money to support herself, let alone buy a Crunchball team fancy uniforms or anything else."

Holly's head was spinning. "So he lied."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Let me just tell you my whole theory first. Okay. Remember how I said that I knew the bank robbery had to be a conspiracy?" Trouble's eyes were glinting now, excited.

"Yes…"

"I still think it is. I think Jon's whole family is in on this."

"His whole family?" Now Holly was getting excited.

"Exactly. Now, they rob the LEP's vault—"

"But," she interrupted, "they aren't trained robbers or anything. How could they have robbed that bank?"

"As you remember, Holly, the security was really lax. That's why they had to make it really tight after the robbery, to keep their image up."

"Oh yeah."

"Now," Trouble continued, "they rob the LEP's vault, causing the organization to be shut down. Then Jon uses the money to buy those uniforms—"

"Why?" Holly asked again. "He didn't really have a good reason to—we could've just worn yellow. It was suspicious, I mean, it certainly made me wary."

"He was getting his way into the coach's limelight. How often does someone spend that much money for those shiny new uniforms? The coach must've been really moved."

The truth dawned on her. "And when he got hurt, it was just…"

"A sham. Right. It erased doubts, well; it certainly took care of yours."

"And I didn't see his grandmother at the hospital because she was part of the plan."

"Yes. She probably came later when no one was around to gloat with him."

"But what about now? The LEP has some money back."

"I don't know where they messed up there," said Trouble thoughtfully, "I'll have to think about that."

"When did you get so good about these things?"

He gave a wry grin. "Recon. You learn a lot."

"And what about all this 'information'?"

"I have my sources." Seeing her skeptical look, he laughed. "What? I have a big family. I've got an uncle on the Council, a cousin working in the library—it was easy getting information."

Holly chuckled. But then she leaned in, having a plan. "What are we going to do now?"

"Do?" Trouble frowned. "Tell one of the commanders, of course."

"Garnet's new," said Holly, almost grinning. "He'll have to run everything by Root first. And Root hates me and doesn't know you."

"What're you saying?" asked Trouble suspiciously.

"They won't believe us."

"What?" Suddenly, he realized it at the same time she said it.

"We have to do it ourselves."

"No." he said firmly. "No. I'm only a beginning Recon officer, and you're… sorry, but you're only a Traffic worker."

"You've been trained."

"You haven't. Besides, we won't have supplies." He said, trying to dissuade her. But Holly was stubborn.

"I can take care of that."

It was his turn to look skeptical. "How?"

"I have my sources." She grinned.

Trouble sighed. "Foaly. But we could get fired!"

"No, we won't."

"How do you know?"

"It says in the description of the Recon job," recited Holly from memory (there was a time when she had read everything about Recon, hoping there'd be something that could help her get in), "it says in the fine print that you can, in fact, go on with a mission by yourself or with a backup member if your team is not available."

"I'm not part of Recon right now. I'm fired."

"No," smiled Holly, "you're on paid vacation that's not paid."

He sighed again. "Fine. I can't believe this, but you win."

She whooped. Finally, some action. Things were going her way.

END OF CHAPTER NINETEEN

What a sucky penultimate chapter. Bleh. Bleh. And yes, I said penultimate. Chapter twenty will be the last chapter of Haircut. Should be another three-thousand one.

I tried to wrap up all questions in that last conversation. I hope it works and none of you are confused. The plot seemed fine in my head, but once I put it into words…

And also, I'm worried that some of you might complain that Holly wouldn't be like she is in this chapter. Think of it this way: she's reckless, proud, and hasn't gone through the rigorous training that Recon provides, making her not as well-tuned as she is in the AF books.