Time Flies
He's Making a List
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style='font-size:14.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt'>Time Flies
Author’s Note: Due to various building up ideas and so
forth, the R rating for this story will not actually apply until around chapter
9, and the slash will be even further in. Consider yourselves warned.
Disclaimer: All characters, settings, and ideas from either
of the two Santa Clause movies belong to Disney. I don’t have permission to use
them, but then, I’m not making money from them, either, so it all balances out.
Chapter 1 – He’s Making A List…
“All
right.” Bernard sighed. “I understand that Father Time is an important mythical
figure. I understand that this makes any children he may or may not have
important. I understand that it’s vital to find them before they unsuspectingly
wreak havoc on the world as we know it. But,” he couldn’t keep the hint of
despair out of his voice, “I don’t
understand why I’ve got to be the one to find them.”
“Because,”
Santa Claus, also known as Scott Calvin, said cheerfully. “I mean, could you
imagine Curtis trying to round up a group of magical humans?”
Bernard
opened his mouth – then stopped. He shuddered. “Point taken. But still, that
doesn’t answer my question. Why me? Christmas is coming up in a month. You need
me here.”
“True,”
Scott admitted. “But I also need someone to go find these missing children, and
you’re the only one who looks old enough to be able to move at all freely in
the human world.”
“So why
can’t Father Time find his own children?” Bernard asked, a touch bitterly.
“The same
reason that I can’t,” Scott replied. “Father Time is busy. He’d send out his
own helpers, but the Moments are even smaller than the normal elves.”
Bernard had
to acknowledge this. Father Time’s Moments were fairies about a foot high,
which helped him keep History, arrange the Present, and determine Destiny. They’d
be about as much help in this situation as the Easter Bunny’s golden-egg-laying
geese, or Mother Nature’s flower-haired, shape-shifting dryads.
He sighed
in defeat. lon long should it take me?”
“Not long,”
Scott assured him. “No more than a couple weeks.”
“A style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>couple weeks?” Bernard ed. ed. “This is our busiest season!”
Scott gave
Hea Head Elf a stern look. “I’ll manage. This is important, Bernard. If those
children rearrange history, then for all we know there may end up being no
Christmas at all. Or no elves, for that matter.”
“I know. I
know.” Bernard surrendered. “I’ll go.”
“Great.”
Scott grinned. Bernard scowled. “Now, there are four children.”<
<
“Four?
Quadruplets?” Bernard shook his head. “No wonder the mother died in
childbirth.”
Scott frowned
at Bernard. “That wasn’t nice. You can’t talk to these children like that. They
could write you out of the space-time continuum.” Bernard nodded. “All right
then. As I said, there are four of them. Fortunately fou, ou, they all live
close to New York. Laura and Neil said you could stay in their home while you
search.”
“You asked
already?” Bernard demanded indignantly. “You didn’t know I’d do it!”
Scott just
smiled. “Father Time has sent you an enchanted compass.” He pulled it out of
his pocket, handing it to Bernard. The Head Elf examined it. Instead of the
usual directions, the four points were labeled with the children’s names –
Dimitri Terryn, Sherwin Lennor, Ebony Hiems, and Bianca Sheiling. “You can set
it to any of the four by pressing the button beside that child’s name, or you
can press the button in the middle. Doing that will make the names of anyone in
the compass’s radius glow silver.”
“And what
do I do when I find them?” Bernard asked. “Say, ‘Hi, you don’t know me, but
your father sent me to tell you that he’s Father Time and that if you don’t
come with me right now you could cause the destruction of the world as we know
it?’ That will go over quite well, I don’t
think. And what happens if I can’t find them? Do I wander around New York City,
hoping they’ll fall into range?”
“I’m sure
you’ll come up with something to say to them,” Scott told him, exceptionally
patient with the upset elf. “As for finding them, this compass homes in on
their magic, but their magic is also attracted to it. That’s why I told you no
more than two weeks, because by the time those two weeks have passed each child
will have felt an irresistible compulsion to come to New York City.”
“So all I
have to do is wait?” Bernard asked suspiciously.
“That’s
right,” Scott replied with what, in Bernard’s opinion, was entirely too
cheerful an attitude. “Of course, I believe that Ebony is already in New York,
so you can get started right away.”
“Excellent,”
Bernard said, his tone making it clear he didn’t think this was excellent at
all. Not that it mattered what he thought, of course. If it did, Father Time
would be looking for his own bloody children, and to hell with the reasons he
couldn’t.
***
“Hello,
Bernard.”
Bernard
jumped at the voice that sounded the moment when he arrived in the Millers’
hallway. Laura stood there, smiling. “Hi,” he said.
“It’s nice
to see you again,” she said pleasantly. “You’ll be staying in our guestroom.
Why don’t you go ahead and put your luggage there? I’m afraid we’ve eaten
dinner already, but I can find something for you.”
“No, ’s
’s
okay,” Bernard assured her, shifting his weight awkwardly from foot to foot.
“I’m not hungry.”
Laura
frowned at him. As a mother, she clearly did not approve of this refusal of
good food. Bernard half expected her to start lecturing him about those poor
starving children in the third world countries. “All right, then. The guest
room is upstairs, the last door on the right.”
“Thanks.”
Bernard escaped gratefully. Laura Miller always made him feel uncomfortable. He
got the feeling that she somehow knew it had been his idea for Scott to
“kidnap” Charlie in the first place.
“Bernard!”
style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>Speak of the devil, Bernard thought, as
Charlie stuck his head out of his room, looking delighted to see his old
friend. “Hiya, sport!”
“Hi,
Bernard!” Charlie came into the hall. “Mom said you were coming. Actually, she
said Dad sent you here kicking and screaming.” Charlie’s grin widened,
resembling Scott’s.
Bernard
scowled. “Yes, Father Time asked Santa to do him a favor. Didn’t your mom tell
you?” Charlie shook his head. “There are these four kids I have to find –
Father Time’s children.”
Charlie’s
face lit up. “The other mythical figures have children? Can I meet them?”
“I don’t
see why not,” Bernard said, after a moment’s consideration. “And of course they
have children. That rabbit complains about his all the time.”
“Wow.”
Charlie looked even happier than he had on seeing Bernard. “And they’re all
here in New York?”
“They will
be soon.” Bernard looked at the compass on a chain around his neck. Ebony’s
name was glowing, but the others’ remained depressingly dull. “Speaking of
which, I should probably get started.”
“What,
now?” Charlie frowned. “But it’s late.”
“The sooner
I get started, the sooner I’ll be able to go back and help with Christmas,”
Bernard pointed out. “Right now Curtis is trying to run things, and you
remember what happened the last time he was in charge of anything.” Charlie and
Bernard both shuddered at the memory.
“Right,”
Charlie agreed. “Now is definitely a good time to start.”
***
Bernard
checked his compass one more time as he stood in front of the house. Yes, this
was the place where Ms. Ebony Hiems lived, at least at the moment. He took a
deep breath, and knocked on the door.
It was
jerked open impatiently, and Bernard’s jaw dropped at the young woman who stood
before him.
Her hair was green. Like grass.
Like emeralds. Like frogs and lettuce and crayons. A deep, brilliant green that
clashed with her grey-green eyes. Brd wrd wondered if there was some mistake,
and this was Mother Nature’s daughter instead of Father Time’s.
She couldn’t be the girl he was
looking for, he decided. This was someone else. Her friend, or the daughter of
the family that adopted Ebony, or something. This could not be the daughter of
Father Time. Could she?
She glared
at him. “You’re late.”
“Um…”
Bernard, still wondering if this was in fact the girl he’d been looking for,
was caught off-guard. He had to ask. “Are you Ebony Hiems?”
The glare’s
intensity increased. “Obviously. You’re… Benjamin, right?”
“Bernard,”
the Head Elf said automatically. He wasn’t sure why it was that people always
got his name wrong, but they did. Scott had hardly been the first.
“Bernard,
then.” She didn’t seem to care, one way or the other. “You’re late. Come on.”
She pushed
past him and headed to the car in the driveway. Bernard stared after her, then
hurried to catch up. “What are you doing?” he asked blankly, as she got in the
driver’s side.
“I don’t
trust other people to drive me places,” she said flatly. “Anyway, you haven’t
got a car. What did you do, walk?”
“You could
say that,” Bernard said cautiously.
“Well, then
I’m driving. Get in.” She pointed to the seat beside her. “Come on, I haven’t
got all night.”
Bernard
blinked. “All right.” He obeyed, sitting stiffly inside the vehicle.
Unlike most
elves, Bernard did in fact know what cars were. Scott had explained them once,
back when the police were after him for that kidnapping incident. So he had
some vague idea of what to expect. He even managed to fasten his seatbelt
without too much difficulty.
He looked
over at the girl. Was she really the Ebony he was looking for? And how had she
known he was coming, anyway? “So where – ”
She hit the
gas pedal, and the words froze in Bernard’s throat. Apparently, Scott had
neglected to tell him the most vital point of how cars moved. Which was style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>fast.
All right,
so Santa’s sleigh moved even faster. But that was different. It was up in the
air, all alone except for birds and high buildings, not on narrow roads
surrounded by hundreds – no, thousands
– of other cars moving as fast or faster.
Though not
many of them were driving faster than this crazy green-haired girl. Bernard,
holding hard to the bottom of the seat in utter terror, couldn’t imagine how
she avoided hitting any of the other cars.
Yet
somehow, they survived long enough to pull into a parking lot in front of
somewhere called “Benvolio’s.” The girl turned to him, smirking slightly.
“We’re here.”
Bernard
ignored her, scrambling to get out of the car. He breathed deeply once his feet
were on solid, nonmoving ground. He heard the girl laugh. Her smirk had grown
as she came around to meet him. “What, too fast for you?”
Without
giving him a chance to respond, she walked to the place’s entrance and went in.
Bernard, not seeing that he had any other choices, followed. He caught up with
her just in time to hear her saying to a woman at a counter, “Reservation for
two, in the name of Ebony Hiems.”
So she style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>was the girl he was looking for. Bernard
didn’t know whether to be pleased or not. On one hand, this was one out of four
children found. But on the other hand, she was apparently some sort of lunatic.
The woman
nodded, smiling. “Right this way, then.” She led the two through the building,
which Bernard quickly realized was a restaurant, to a table for two, in a room
that was entirely too dark for Bernard’s tastes.
She smiled
again. “Your server will be with you in just a moment.” She left.
Bernard
stood staring at Ebony. She stared back. “Aren’t you going to pull out my chair
for me?” she hinted.
Bernard
blinked. “Should I?”
Ebony
rolled her eyes, and sat down. Bernard frowned, wondering what he’d done. He
sat in the chair she’d left vacant.
“So… Ms.
Hiems.” She raised an eyebrow at the name. “Or Ebony – is that all right?” She
nodded. “Ebony. May I ask why you brought me here?”
Ebony
rolled her eyes again. “To eat, of course. What do you do at restaurants?”
“Well, yes,
I can see that,” Bernard admitted. “But that wasn’t what I mean. Why did you
bring me anywhere in the first place?”
Ebony gave
him a look of utter disbelief. “What do you do on dates, sit in the car and
stare at girls?”
“Date?”
Bernard’s jaw dropped again. “What date?”
Ebony
frowned. “You know, the blind date? That your cousin set us up on?” Bernard
continued to look totally blank. Ebony’s face hardened. “You aren’t my date,
are you?”
“I’m afraid
not,” Bernard said, wincing. “Look, I’m really sorry – ”
“I style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>knew his name was Benjamin!” Ebony
exclaimed, overriding Bernard’s apology. “And I thought she’d said he was
blond.” Suddenly, she snapped out of her thoughts, her glare focusing in on
Bernard like a deadly arrow.
“So if you
aren’t Benjamin,” she said dangerously, “who the hell are you?”
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