A/N: Three days till Solstice! Christmas is creeping up faster than I'd suspected. Anyways, I'm kind of not abiding by a few of the things that you'd think from watching the movie. By 'the movie', I re-remind you that this is pretty much all based on what happens in the first one and the whole 'Toy Santa' thing never happened. Nor did the 'Jack Frost' thing. I never saw that movie. Although it looks kind of entertaining. Maybe someday. Oo, if anybody spots any continuity errors, would they be so awesome as to let me know? I'm so bad at proofing my own stuff.
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Ch. 2 – Caution: Holiday Cheer
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Initially, Scott wanted to laugh. He was sure the workshop would continue without Bernard, and he was amused by how devastated Bernard was at the prospect of not working for a few days. Admittedly, the flu generally rendered people miserable, but Scott would rather be sick with the flu at home than be Bernard in December at the North Pole. Bernard was making it quite clear that he'd rather be himself in December at the North Pole than be stuck in New York with the flu.
"But you might not even get the flu," Scott insisted. The elf laughed bitterly. He'd assumed a 'grumpy' position, hunched in the chair, arms crossed and hat askew.
"Seriously, Bernard. Why don't you just go back to the workshop, and if you start feeling sick, come back down here." He was trying out his best 'rational' tone, but he felt himself wishing Neil were here. Neil may be a slimy psychologist – or was it psychiatrist? – but he'd have higher convincing skills than Scott, at least.
"Doesn't work like that. People with the flu are contagious at least a day before they start showing symptoms. I might have already spread it around the North Pole. And just wait, I will get sick. If I didn't catch it from being here yesterday, I have now. Like I already said, elf immune systems are terrible. Back in the 1700's I was in a room for two seconds with someone who had inhalation anthrax. You know how contagious inhalation anthrax is?"
"Very?"
"No, it's not contagious at all. And guess who came down with inhalation anthrax the next day and almost died?"
"Why were you in a room with someone who had anthrax if you knew how dangerous it was?"
"Well I didn't know they had anthrax until I saw them."
Scott could tell Bernard wasn't getting any calmer, and he still found the situation humorous. He stood. "Fine, fine, fine. So you're going to get sick. You'll be fine in a few days, then you can go back and start working yourself to death again. In the meantime, drink some tea, will you?"
"Ugh," was the elf's only reply, and he lowered his forehead to the table.
"Cheer up, Bernard. I'm going over to the Miller's house in a little while, you can see Charlie and Laura and Neil." He fished out two mugs and found some tea bags, pouring water into both of them.
"Yeah, great. Spreading some holiday influenza. Merry Christmas."
"Oh come on, they'll be happy to see you." Scott set a mug in front of the elf's face.
"I think you should go and I'll just stay here for the week. Was the water boiling?"
"Yes. And you're coming with me. If you don't spread the bug around, Lucy certainly will. And," he said loudly, as Bernard opened his mouth to protest, "only kids seem to be catching this one. That means it's not a very advanced strain, which means Laura and Neil and I probably won't be contracting a case of holiday cheer from you or Lucy."
"And Charlie?"
"Charlie'll be fine. His immune system is made of iron."
Bernard uttered a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a choke.
"What?" asked Scott. Bernard shook his head..
"I'm gonna call Judy and tell her what's down."
"Sure. I'll go check on Lucy. Maybe she doesn't have the flu after all and you'll be able to get out of a week's vacation. Wouldn't that be fantastic."
"Oh shut up."
Scott filled a glass of water for Lucy as Bernard reached into his mysterious shoulder bag. Hey, he thought to himself as he started up the stairs, it could happen. Maybe it's not the flu. He realized this was overly hopeful thinking, though. The virus had been going around in the schools, and he was willing to place his life on the fact that she had some sort of fever, which doubtlessly pointed to a sickness. He fetched a thermometer from the upstairs bathroom closet and entered Lucy's room. She was curled beneath a pile of covers, reading The Ink Drinker.
"Hey, how're you feeling?" he asked. She flipped over and shrugged her shoulders, then sat up. He handed her the water. "For the next few days, drink lots of water, alright?" She nodded. "Let's take your temperature, open up." He gave her the thermometer and took a seat on the bed next to her. "So I guess my new neighbors have two kids. Maybe you can get to know them, that would be fun. Too bad they're not your neighbors," he added, regretfully. He didn't like to think of himself as judgmental, but Ilex seemed a bit foreboding in the overbearing-female-neighbor type of way. Good thing he didn't spend much time here anymore.
"If you're feeling up to it, we're going to bring you back to your parent's house in a little bit. Bernard's going to come with us." Lucy gave him a questioning look, but knew better than to try to talk. "Yes," he answered preemptively, "He's busy, but I'm making him take a vacation."
Scott could hear Bernard talking remorsefully downstairs on his radio; Judy's responses were muffled. For a moment Scott wondered just how much Bernard's absence was going to affect the workings of the North Pole, or of the ceiling really was going to collapse because he wasn't there. He decided to try not to worry about it. Bernard knew what he was doing, and if he thought it was too dangerous for him to go back up north, then that was that and he'd have to deal with the consequences himself.
The thermometer beeped, and he took it from Lucy and held it to the light. He squinted at it for a moment; he'd never been good at reading these things.
"Ah. 100.6. Lucy, darling, you have a low-grade fever. Know what that means?"
"What?"
"It means everyone treats you like a princess now. You want anything, you just ask. Also means you get to lay in bed a lot."
"But I want to be with you and Charlie and Bernard."
"You can lay on the couch, then, and watch us all try to put up the Christmas tree." Lucy's eyes lit up with the mention of the Christmas tree. "Alright. I have to go feed Comet, he's been waiting patiently in the backyard since last night for me to get him some carrots." Scott ruffled Lucy's hair, pointed meaningfully at the glass of water, and left. He ambled down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Bernard was sipping tea and looking uncharacteristically still and thoughtful.
"How's Lucy?" he asked.
"Oh, low fever, high spirits. So… how did Judy take the news?"
"She forbade me from returning until five days after the worst of the symptoms wore off. Otherwise she's confident that everything will work out fine, as long as you go back up there as soon as you can." Scott sighed and reached into the refrigerator for the bag of carrots.
"But you don't have any symptoms yet. What if you don't get sick for the next week? You'll be here through Christmas."
"Nah, it'll be over pretty quick. Alright, so we've got dumb immune systems, but they're powerful. Once it realizes I do have a virus, defenses will go berserk for a day or so, then I'll be fine. Except I'll still be contagious for four days afterward. And," he said, with a strange air of triumph, "I have a headache."
"So…"
"So I'm sick already. I won't have to wait a week for the lightning bolt to strike."
"You know," said Scott as he headed to the backdoor, "If Neil were here he'd be telling you that you've got this all negatively framed. You should be positively reframing the issue. Words like 'lightning bolt' and 'strike' and 'berserk' aren't going to help you get better any sooner." Bernard had picked up his mug and was following him outside, shutting the back door behind him and followed Scott into the snow. Comet raised his head at their approach.
"Santa, I'm pretty sure saying 'friendly exchanges between antibodies and viruses' isn't going to do any better. And it's not accurate."
"Hey, Comet," said Scott cheerily. "I remembered your carrots." Bernard huffed but couldn't keep himself from stroking the soft fur behind the reindeer's ear. It was snowing – the gentle, fluffy stuff that consisted of delicately-patterned individuals that one could spend hours looking at. Snow, thought Scott, was almost like makeshift stars. Falling stars. Comet bit his finger.
"Ow. Comet, watch where you chew, I thought you were an herbivore." Comet chuckled. Bernard smirked. The pin on the elf's hat reflected the backyard light. Scott leaned forward and stared at it, suddenly curious as to what, exactly, it represented. Bernard leaned away for a moment before realizing it was his hat that Scott was staring at. "So… it's a shooting star," Scott proclaimed pensively. Its five golden arms were flailing out behind it as it shot down to Earth. "What's it mean, where'd it come from?"
Bernard's hand absently rose to trace the outline of the metal pin. "Another good question… Another long story behind it, too."
"Now you have time to tell it, don't you? "
"You're going back to the workshop soon, you know. You should probably take off later today. Don't know that you'll have time."
"Oh, come on," Scott ribbed, "You've got time."
"You'd probably do better just looking it all up in the hall of records. Everything you could ever want to know about anything Christmas is in there." Bernard lowered his head and pushed the heel of his hand to his temple for a moment, and Scott decided to drop it. He remained, however, determined to draw it all out of Bernard sooner or later. Comet pulled the last carrot from his hand and Scott gave the reindeer a friendly pat on the head.
"Looks like an early flight back to Elfsburg later today, buddy." Comet nodded. Scott and Bernard headed back inside. Scott figured now would be as good of a time as any to head to the Miller's place, so he trudged upstairs to start gathering Lucy and her things up. She was sleeping when he got to her room, so he gently picked her up and tried to balance her and her small suitcase as he made his way down the stairs. He dropped the suitcase on the second-to-bottom stair, which startled Lucy awake. The suitcase, an old-fashioned clasp one, popped open, and Scott resolved to get her a zipper suitcase for Christmas. He set her down.
"We're leaving already, Uncle Scott?"
"Yes. Turns out I'm needed at the North Pole a little earlier than expected," he sighed, stuffing clothing back into the stubborn suitcase.
"What was that?" Bernard asked, coming down the hallway.
"Oh, I dropped Lucy's suitcase. Hey, could you get a water bottle from the cupboard under the microwave and fill it for her? I want her to be getting plenty of fluids… You make sure you're drinking enough too."
"Don't you dare try to mother me, Santa." Bernard raised his eyebrows threateningly at Scott before starting for the kitchen, Lucy following along.
"Somebody's got to look after you sickos," Scott shouted after them, thoroughly believing that being teased was sure to lighten anyone's spirits. From the kitchen, Scott heard Lucy asking Bernard why they were 'sickos'.
_oOo_
"I made you sick?" she asked. Bernard had just tried to explain what was going on to Lucy. He rinsed out the blue water bottle and started filling it with tap water.
"No, some mean viruses made me sick. Like those kids at school that teased you, they make me sick too." His heart wasn't entirely in the conversation, as he was worrying about where he would be staying. He'd pretended to give up the argument earlier, but in actually he was quite set on staying at Scott's house. Or maybe down some dingy alleyway. Much as he liked the Millers, there was something about going to someone's house to get sick and have them take care of him that bugged him. He'd rather just deal with it himself. No need to drag others into the situation.
"So now we give the virus water because it's a valuable natural resource, right?" Lucy asked, taking the bottle full of water that he'd handed her.
"Yeah, viruses don't like water. They also don't like sleep or chicken soup."
"Chicken soup is a valuable natural resource?"
"Better believe it."
"What are you telling my niece, Bernard?" asked Scott, entering the kitchen. Bernard gave the newly-packed mini-suitcase a wary look. "Let's go, you two."
"Actually, Santa…" Bernard paused, wondering how to put this. "I'd really not like to bother the Millers, I mean it could be five days. I'll just… stay here." Scott scrutinized him.
"Alright, I know you're independent and stubborn and a loner and everything but come on. You said it yourself, you're about to crash and burn. You might need help."
"I won't. I'll be fine. I'd prefer to be miserable by myself."
"Well…" Bernard's hope flared for a moment, thinking Santa's store of sharp retorts had run out. To his despair, his boss wouldn't give up that easily. "It's my house," Santa said. "I don't want you staying in it by yourself, you might set it on fire."
"Woa, look who's talking! And I'm an elf, I took care of people's houses for two centuries before getting recruited into the holiday business."
"But…" Santa paused, looking thoughtful. "That merits another story, doesn't it… Anyways, the above-all is I'm your boss, you do what I say."
"I'm older than you."
"I sign your checks."
"Elves don't get checks. Oh sweet solstice, just give up already. I'm not leaving."
"Fine! Fine. I'm not happy about it but fine. I'm telling Laura about you, though, and she'll probably move in with you anyways. Or better yet, I'll tell Ilex. I'm sure she'd be happy to keep you company." The elf grimaced, and Scott started to struggle into his jacket. "There's food in the pantry and the-"
"I know where your food is."
"If the power goes out the breaker box is-"
"In the basement. If I recall I'm the one that showed you where it was last year."
"And don't run the electricity bill through the roof, ok?"
"Will do. Talk to Judy about the ceiling, you should be able to fix it yourself. Call me if there are problems."
"Ok. I'll call you anyways just to tease you. See you around. Come on, Lucy, let's take Comet. Save on natural resources." Lucy waved goodbye to Bernard, they left through the back door, and Bernard was left in silence.
He listened.
The background hum of electrical appliances and the occasional car on the street outside were the only noises that came to his sensitive ears. Nothing at all was moving, besides some sluggish air currents pushed around by the ventilation and heat systems. Nothing glittered or sparkled or buzzed or crashed or leaked all over. He smiled. His headache was starting to be more than slightly annoying, so he turned off all the lights and meandered into the living room where the sofa was and lay down.
It felt too weird not to have something to be doing. He wasn't sure he was ready for it yet. I am so bad at vacations, he thought, then grimaced to himself that this 'vacation' was him staying in his boss's house while he became sick. His mind rebelled from the idea of being still, so it searched for something to worry about, immediately latching on to something.
Why had he come here? What had drawn him here? Magic was a fickle thing to be involved with and he would never say that he understood it all. He had a higher understanding of it than most anybody else he knew of but that still left the majority of the subject swathed in mystery. He was fairly certain that there was a reason behind every occurrence, that magic didn't just dink around randomly like some amateur geologist in the backcountry of Yellowstone. However, he was certain that if magic was any kind of benevolent force it would have magically disappeared all the influenza viruses by now. Seeing as though fatigue was starting to set in and a strange cold was creeping down his spine, he could safely assume that 'benevolent' wasn't quite appropriate.
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A/N: "But where's the plot?" you ask.
"Coming up shortly," I try to assure you.
"That's not a very good way to write a story," you chide.
"I know, I know. Sorry. I promise there'll be some serious plottage in either of the next two chapters."
"Ok… but if you don't, I'm throwing wrenches at you."
