Author's Disclaimer: I don't own Bernard or any other Santa Clause character. Helen is mine. And hopefully not too much of a MarySue, but then, such is life. There are worse sins.


The Day Bernard Got Beaned (And What Happened After)


Previously:

The knock came again; tap tap. Helen ran a hand quickly through her hair, using a sleeve to brush away any moisture in her eyes, then hopped up and went to the front door. Maybe it was one of her roommates, back to spend Christmas here for some reason...


Chapter One: Greetings


Helen peered through the peephole, and saw a teenage boy. She was suddenly furious for an instant. Was this a prank? Then the anger left, replaced by disappointment. That's why she was really angry; this random stranger showing up on her doorstep had raised and dashed her silly hopes in only a moment's time. It was her own fault, really. She was...ridiculous.

Helen gathered herself for a long moment, calming her emotions, then opened the door. She would find out what he wanted, then quickly send him away.

The teenager spoke before she could.

"Hello! Who am I?" He tilted his head slightly to the side, like a confused puppy dog.

Helen stared at him, taken completely off guard. He was bizarrely dressed, with longish curly dark hair, and one of his hands was planted carefully on what looked like a very painful bump on his forehead. He was squinting at her, apparently taking in her appearance as well. He went on before she could respond to his question.

"Do I know you? Or have we met? Do I live here, or...nearby?" His straightforward tone was bizarre, and Helen found herself grinning a little.

"No, you don't live here. Do you...really not know who you are?" Helen raised her eyebrows at him, disbelieving, then did a double take as her thought from earlier came back. She crossed her arms, suddenly angry again. "This isn't a prank, is it? I'll call the police."

His eyes went wide, but not out of fear. It looked like he was trying to figure out who was in charge- and was deciding it was probably him. His expression became admonishing as he raised a single eyebrow.

"Now that wouldn't be very nice. Why don't you invite me in, instead, and help me figure out who I am?" He grinned. "That sounds a lot more productive. And friendly."

Helen didn't know why she did it. Maybe it was because part of her was desperate; terrified to spend her first Christmas entirely alone. Maybe she just knew, somehow, that this guy wasn't remotely a threat to her. He exuded something...safe.

He let himself in as soon as she stepped back. "Now that's more like it! Thanks! I've got the worst headache, and it's cold out there." He wandered into the living room, and sat just where she'd been, carefully propping his head up with a pillow.

Helen came over, collected her cocoa, and went to sit in the recliner. A brief moment of silence descended, as they stared across at each other. He didn't appear at all uncomfortable just staring like that; his mind had apparently skipped over that 'awkward moment' most people experience. He was so strange.

Helen cleared her throat. "So...you bumped your head, and lost all your memories," she prompted him.

His quiet face jumped into an ironic grin, eyebrows shooting up. "Yes. I think so, anyway. But I'm sure they'll come back." He peered at her in concentration. "So, do I know you?" It came out sounding very business-like.

"No, I've never seen you before."

"Ah." He paused, and the missing awkward moment from earlier finally showed up. "Well...it was really nice of you to invite me in, then." He looked down, vague disappointment in his face. Helen got the impression he had been hoping she would sit down and tell him his life story, so he could be done with the memory loss thing and move on.

That thought hurt a bit. "Would you like something to drink? I, um...just made hot cocoa." Helen stared down at her hands, trying to keep her features relaxed. This was a stranger, not family. She was just doing them a favor. In a few minutes, they'd probably agree that calling the hospital would be best, to get him to someone who specialized in amnesia. She ought to suggest it soon, if he didn't.

"Thanks, that would be great." He smiled at her, and she got up.

"I'll be right back." It didn't take long at all. The cocoa was still on the stove, and just needed a minute before the froth came back. Soon she was back in the den, handing him a mug.

Helen grinned. "My own recipe, I hope you like it. I tend to make it pretty dark."

He took a sip, and his face became a little too serious. Helen had to suppress a grin. "Hmmmm. Not bad. Really!" He smiled up at her, with a look that said 'but I've had better, sorry'.

Helen's grin turned lopsided. "Sheesh, everyone's a critic." She turned away to make her way to the recliner again. "My br-" She broke off, and stood for a moment. It felt like a hand had reached out to grab her heart, and for an instant she couldn't breathe.

Then Helen shunted the feeling away and forced herself to move again. After sitting down, she glanced over at her guest to see if he'd noticed anything. He was sipping his cocoa, eyes closed and waiting for her to continue. As she watched, he opened them to stare at her, starting to wonder why she had stopped talking.

She gulped, and said the first thing that came to mind. "Your costume is very nice."

He looked surprised. "Costume?" He looked down at himself, turning one arm this way and that to look at his sleeve.

Phew. Helen smiled. "Wow, you really did bump your head."

He frowned crossly at her. "I wasn't pretending."

"I didn't mean it that way. Sorry." She pointed. "Just, go take a look in the mirror over there. Maybe it'll jog your memory. You're wearing costume ears."

He set down his mug and got up to go look at himself in the entryway mirror. Helen stayed sitting, sipping her cocoa and watching as he looked himself up and down.

"I...don't think this is weird. I mean, I think this is how I normally dress." He walked back over to her. "And these are my real ears, of course."

She grinned at him, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "No they're not, they're elf ears."

He stared down at her. "Then I'm an elf. Look, they're my real ears."

She didn't know what to say, suddenly doubting her judgment a little. Her instincts had said he was totally safe...but there were totally safe lunatics, after all.

Her grin turned into an uncertain smile. "No they're not. They're like...Lord of the Rings elf ears. And I wasn't serious about you being an elf. It was a joke."

"Who says I'm not? Maybe I am." He crossed his arms, one eyebrow raised again.

Helen finally stood up. "Oh, come on, just...here." She reached over, plucking at the tip of his left ear, and pulled up. His head followed, and he grabbed her hand.

"Ow!" He stared at her, wide eyes demanding an explanation. They both let go, but her hand remained hovering.

"Oh, sorry." Helen bit her lip, feeling bad. "They're really attached well, aren't they?" She smiled apologetically.

"They're my ears! Of course they're 'attached' well!" He wasn't properly yelling, but he was clearly exasperated.

"Look, I..." Helen wanted to argue with him more, but she didn't want to make him angry. She was starting to like this person, whoever he was. And she didn't want him to walk right back out the door because she didn't believe he had pointy ears, of all things.

"Okay, you're right..." She felt a little guilty, like she was helping to prolong his delusional belief, but maybe later she could come back to it. Helen looked away, glancing down as if to check where the chair was in order to sit back down.

"Now, wait. I can see you don't believe me." He pulled her free hand up, back toward his abused ear. "Here. Come on. Feel."

He frowned at her as she stared back at him. Then she slowly complied, pushing back the curls which obscured most of his costume ear. She knew there would be a point, however good his makeup, where the texture would shift, and probably even a ridge where the fake ear stopped. She felt a little sorry for him, knowing she was about to burst his bizarre belief.

Helen got all the way down to the earlobe. Then she paused, and put down her mug so she could use both hands. She felt her way down from the tip again, more slowly this time, letting her fingers carefully search.

Her guest let out a frustrated groan, startling her. "That tickles like mad, you know."

Helen looked into his grumpy face, and licked her lips, eyes wide. "Um. Sorry." Her voice came out barely more than a whisper, as her gaze went back to his ear. The perfectly normal, warm, sensitive to touch, with blood vessels...pointy ear. She finally pulled her hands away, swallowing, and stared into nothing, eyes out of focus.

"Well? Satisfied?" He crossed his arms again, looking downright grumpy, and reached up to brush at his ear distractedly a few times, as if getting rid of any remaining tickle.

Helen sat back down. She picked up her mug, and took a sip. It was lukewarm. She stared up at him, where he still stood, waiting for her to say something.

"Why are your ears pointed?" Her voice sounded very small.

"Because I'm an elf, like you said. I guess." His grumpy attitude shifted, as he realized just how floored she really was. "Look, I guarantee you there are plenty of other people with pointy ears out there. Just because you've never met one before doesn't mean they don't exist."

Helen puzzled that over. "I've never heard of them, either."

"No, no, I can't remember who I am, but...there are definitely others like me." Now, however, he seemed just a little uncertain. As she watched, the energy went out of his frame, leaving him looking tired. He finally went to sit down again, and put a hand tentatively to the bump on his head.

Helen blinked, and a feeling of guilt swept through her. That looked really painful, and they were sitting around talking about pointy ears! How thoughtless of her! And the elf ears thing, well, she didn't, couldn't...it just didn't compute.

"I apologize for being such a lousy host! Your head much be killing you! Would you like a painkiller?" Helen jumped up, feeling like the worst person in the world. "Let me get the first aid kit, just a second."

It took a little hunting, but the kit turned up in one of the kitchen cabinets, inconveniently stuffed up high and behind other things. She huffed as she jumped back down from where she had to perch on the counter top to get the thing, and made her way back to the living room. She set it down on the coffee table, and pried open the tight plastic clasp, sitting down on the floor in front of it to poke around inside.

"That's really not necessary. I mean, I doubt anything in that box will make me feel better. No offense." Helen looked up for the first time since going into the kitchen to see her guest leaning forward from where he sat on the couch, forearms resting on his legs as he perused the contents of the first aid kit himself.

Helen blinked, suddenly worried. "Do you think you might react strangely to something, because you're an elf?" Then she stared back down at the first aid kit, mortified. She could feel the muscles in her arms tightening up from the sheer insanity of what she'd just said. Her head snapped back up. "You're making me a little crazy."

She said it as if it was an inconvenience that was grumping her out just a bit. Well, there were worse things than having everything you thought you knew about how the world worked being thrown out the window, after all. Right?

He smiled comfortingly at her. It was the most caring look she had seen him give so far, and seemed out of place on such a youthful face.

"Say, what time is it? You're looking kind of overwhelmed, with the whole ears thing. And I think sleep would probably help me more than anything else, anyway. Why don't we call it a day, and worry about this stuff tomorrow?"

Helen looked at him, only just realizing that she was very tired, as a matter of fact. And befuddled. He was right. Sleep was what they needed. She smiled at him.

"Are you sure you don't want some aspirin or something? Ibuprofen?"

His smile faltered a little. "Well...sure. Get me some aspirin. I appreciate the help." His smile returned, if a bit lopsided.

Helen retrieved the aspirin- which was ironically not included in the first aid kit. She brought a class of water, too. When she handed them over, he set them both on the coffee table.

"Thanks." Helen yawned widely in response.

"Gosh, I'm totally falling asleep." She blinked at him sleepily, then breathed deeply a few times to buy herself a few more moments of wakefulness. "Here, follow me. You can stay...in here..." He followed her into the hallway where the three bedrooms were located, and then into her house-mate Alice's bedroom. Alice was a very tidy person. Hopefully she wouldn't mind the intrusion.

"Just..." Helen lost her train of thought. She was going to tell him...something about something. She blinked blearily up at him. "I'll be one door over...if you need anything." Helen looked at him for a long moment, smiling vaguely in a way only someone nearly drunk with exhaustion can.

She swayed on her feet, and her guest reached out to rest a steadying hand on her shoulder. And then, like a light switching off, she fell completely asleep.

Bernard stared down at the young woman who had just fainted into his arms. He couldn't remember his name, couldn't think what he did with his life or remember how he'd even bumped his head. But he knew that by wishing it, and sending out the right kind of energy, he'd just accidentally put this girl Helen into a deep sleep. Touching her shoulder had only strengthened the magic.

That was right; magic was certainly real. As the knowledge came to him, it solidified what he'd assumed earlier. There really were other people with pointy ears in the world. Somewhere.

But until he could remember where those people were- because he felt they must be his family, if this girl reacted so strangely to him- he would stay here, and try to be grateful that he had found someone so kind as to take a compete stranger into their home.

And he would watch the magic very, very carefully.


Author's Note: Part 2 of 9 up, 7 more to go. Onward!