Chapter 3
The Doctor is In
November–
It had taken the better part of a month for Elle to work her way through the entire collection of disks–especially after she discovered that she couldn't keep up the no-sleep regimen and work at the same time.
But by the time she'd made her way through them…holy night, was she obsessed.
At first, it was the subtle change in clothing. Elle had stopped wearing her usual dress or skirt and blouse combination, and taken to a new outfit comprised of dark blue skinny jeans, a black tank top, a black deep cut v-neck boyfriend sweater of light cotton, and over that: a dark blue pinstriped blouse with ruffled cap sleeves, left open to give the sweater the impression of being a waistcoat. With this, she wore a pair of high top, light yellow converse.
It was a seemingly nonsensical outfit, but when Quentin saw it, he had almost squealed in delight, and had positively gushed about it being 'the best fem Ten D cosplay' he'd ever seen. This pronouncement had made Elle absolutely glow, while Bernard had stood and patiently waited for their little 'fangirling' session to end, while wondering what it all meant.
Then, it had been the extra abundance of energy. It seemed like all of Elle's responses were heightened, and she immediately leapt into action instead of carefully assessing like she normally did. And she jabbered. Oh, how she jabbered. Her entire thought process became verbal, and while it was remarkable to hear how the 99th percentile problem solved, it was also a little unnerving.
There were also the random quotes, the most annoying of which was, "Allons-y!" She would cry this before grabbing Bernard by the hand and yanking him off to another department, yelling all the while, "Run, Sally Sparrow, Run!" Then, after arriving, she would add casually, "Love from the Doctor, 1969."
It was this quote of 'the Doctor' that finally helped Bernard put two and two together.
He decided that he wouldn't make the same mistake he'd made with Trek and LOTR: acknowledging them. So he ignored Elle's Whovian trending.
Which turned out to be harder than he'd expected.
For one thing, whenever there was a problem, she incessantly whipped out a screwdriver from her jeans pocket and cried, "Sonic!" as if it would solve everything.
"Elle," Bernard would say tiredly, "That's a screwdriver. It's not going to help us fix loose rivets in the train assemblies."
"Um, this is a sonic screwdriver," Elle would protest, "And actually, it can." She frowned. "If it was a working model." She scowled at the screwdriver. "Quintin's still working on the functional model."
"Right," Bernard had said skeptically, then set about actually fixing the problem; while Elle stared at the screwdriver like it could suddenly transform from a caterpillar into a butterfly at any second.
It was kind of funny, actually; she went a little cross eyed in the process.
Then, there was the thing with the TARDIS. At random intervals during the day, Elle would run off, complaining that she must have parked the TARDIS in the wrong place again. "It was right here!" she would cry, literally bending down halfway to point at a very particular patch of floor. Then from another jeans pocket (or her peacoat, if she happened to be wearing it; she had changed it to a medium brown color) she would pull out a shiny silver key on a string. "Bollocks. It could be anywhere in Space or Time! Now I have to go and find it." Then she'd turn and give Bernard a cheeky grin. "Half a mo." Then, she would rush off; and later, when she finally returned, she'd walk up casually and say something completely nutty, like: "Can you believe it? She parked herself halfway between Jupiter and Space Station 47 in the future. It took me 2,890 bloody years to track her down. Ooh, but look! I found a banana!"
Sometimes she would be looking around as if she'd lost something, down corridors and behinds stacks of wrapped presents. Then she'd start dog whistling. "Here, TARDIS. Here, girl…oh, where'd you go this time…"
The worst part was that Quentin was just as enthusiastic, and seemed to be encouraging Elle, egging her on to higher levels of craziness. One time in particular, when he and Elle, Quentin and Abby were going to go out for dinner, Quentin greeted them with, "Hello, Doctor! And Bernard! You must be Elle's latest Companion."
"Latest? Companion?" Bernard had asked confusedly, and not a little put out.
But Elle had gone right along with it, looping her arm through Bernard's and grinning like crazy. "That's him."
That wasn't all. They were considering possible restaurants when Quintin commented offhandedly, "Although, it would be wise to limit our search to our dimension."
Elle immediately hopped on board. "Yes! Definitely. You DON'T want to see what our reality looks like in another dimension," she said, grabbing Bernard by the lapels of his coat and pulling him so close that they were literally eye-to-eye. She stared at him seriously. "Really. You don't want to."
This had a large dose of truth to it, though Bernard figured she was just being insane as usual (lately.)
In short, it had been a long fanatical month of quotes and impersonations.
On top of all this, Santa had brought up the issue of Elle's family again. "Don't you ever tell her this," Scott had warned, "but I've been monitoring her calls. They're getting seriously suspicious, Bernard. They grill her on her whereabouts, and her father's been sending PI's up into Canada looking for her."
"PI's?" Bernard had said, wide eyed in panic.
Santa had nodded. "Her parents are worried, and rightly so. I warned you it might come to this."
Bernard had swallowed hard. "What do you want me to do?" he had asked squeakily.
"Take her home, Bernard," Santa had said. "Take her to see her family. Let her explain the secrets she's been keeping. I don't want you to lose her because those same secrets are tearing her apart."
"But…sir," Bernard had said, a bit weakly at the thought of losing Elle (for a second time), "The S.O.S... I'm not allowed to…"
"You're allowed if I say you are," Scott reassured him. "I'm telling you to do this, Bernard. It's a direct order." He had given his head elf a sideways look. "Don't let me down?"
Bernard had sighed worriedly. "I'll do what I can."
He had avoided telling Elle, all this time. He knew she had mixed feelings about returning to Seattle, and he didn't want to be the one to tell her she didn't have a choice…even though, as her fiancé, it fell to him and him alone. A whole month had gone by, and he had guiltily kept his mouth shut. Perhaps this was the reason he tolerated her obsessive behavior so passively.
But one day near the end of November, something in him snapped. Maybe it was his ability to bear the guilt, or he was just especially irritated that day; but after Elle had made a particularly obsolete comment about how some malfunctioning toys reminded her of Ood on the fritz, a seething Bernard burst out, in the middle of the Workshop, "What, in the name of Christmas, is that supposed to mean?!"
The elves fell silent. Elle stared at him like he was the crazy one.
He might have been. Bernard was visibly twitching, with that intensely irritated purse to his lips and the glare that Elle had only ever seen directed at Curtis being fired at her.
This, of course, only pissed Elle off. "You wouldn't know," she said slowly, staring at him with increasing anger. In fact this only improved her tenth Doctor impression, since in that moment she very much resembled 'the Oncoming Storm'. "You see, it's all this, wibbly wobbly, wimey wimey…stuff," she said, creating a ball shape in the air with her hands. She glared back at him a moment before picking up one of the dolls and pulling something out of her pocket…only it wasn't her usual screwdriver. This was a metal tube-like thing, and when Elle pressed a button on the side, a bright blue light came out of one end. She held it to the doll, and it immediately stopped its strange erratic flailing. Then, after a few more seconds, it began operating normally.
The elves all gasped. "How did she DO that?" someone cried.
Elle took a step closer to Bernard, and held up the device in her hand. "This," she said coldly, "Is a Sonic. Screwdriver. Fully functional. Not that you'd care," she said, casually yet cutting.
Then she turned sharply on her heel and stormed off, through the crowd of amazed elves.
Bernard glared after her a few moments, until his expression softened and he groaned and slapped a hand to his face. At the same moment, one of the smaller girl elves came up and kicked him square in the shin…which was harder than you'd think, as she was only four feet tall.
"OW!" Bernard cried, clutching his shin and hopping around (rather ridiculously) on one leg. In that moment, he looked stupider than Elle had all month with her Whovian tendencies.
"Meanie!" The elf proclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger up at an astonished Bernard. "Mo… I mean, Ms. Elle hasn't done anything wrong! So what if she's been a bit funny all month! She loves you, and you need to be NICE!"
Bernard gaped for a minute, while all the elves murmured their agreement. With a shake of his curly head, Bernard clumped off. "Elle!" He called loudly, his slight limp adding to his already exaggerated walk. The elves cleared him a path to the door. "Elle! I didn't mean…"
The elves all shot the little girl looks of approval, and gave her little claps on the back. The girl smirked and crossed her arms, staring approvingly after the retreating form of the head elf. She'd almost blown her cover, but in the end she'd done alright.
The girl was a little odd, if anyone had noticed. Her dress was decidedly mature, and a little formal: dark green velvet tied about the waist with a black ribbon, matching the heavy soled black Mary-Janes on her small feet, and a dark brown bag inset with gold was slung across her body. She was a little smaller than elves of her age; but she made up for it in looks. The girl had a pretty, heart shaped face, and hazel eyes that she now cast around the room in wonder. She'd always wondered if this place had changed much over the years; it didn't appear that it had. They'd done a good job, then, keeping things up.
"Wibbly wobbly, wimey wimey indeed," she muttered, shaking her short bob of dark curls amusedly as she pulled a maroon beret from her bag and slapped it haphazardly on her head. Then she reached into her dress pocket and took out an old, worn fob watch.
At that moment, a young elf from Engineering caught her by the arm. "Say," he asked casually, "I don't remember your name,…?"
The girl smiled. "Clara," she replied warmly, but with a note of humor in her voice. "And I'm only eleven years old."
The other elf cringed slightly. He was seven hundred and fifty two. "Sorry!" He said lightly, going on about his business.
"As you were," Clara chuckled quietly, opening the fob watch and disappearing in a puff of gold and silver sparks before anyone else took notice of her.
ELLENORA'S CHOICE: Little Talks, by Of Monsters and Men
Knock knock knock knock.
"Elle?" Bernard called through the door. He was standing outside of their suites. A few months after they had become engaged, Santa had suggested that they move in together. Their suites had a living room, kitchen, dining room, office, three bedrooms, and three bathrooms: one set was Bernard's, one set was Elle's and one set was for…later. After they were married. They didn't look at that room's door very often.
"Go away, jerkhole," Elle said from somewhere, most likely the living room. He could hear the TV running in the background…and almost certainly someone cried, "Run, Rose; run!"
So it was back to Who, then.
Bernard sighed, and leaned his head wearily on her door. "Elle, I didn't mean it…I just have a lot on my mind right now, and…I took it out on you. I'm sorry."
"Nice try, horsefly," Elle said with a bitter laugh. "You humiliated me in front of the entire Workshop. Just wait and see if I let you in my room for the next hundred years!"
"Yeah, well. They didn't exactly let me get away with it," said Bernard with a rueful glance down at his throbbing shin.
Another little laugh. "Good." Elle sounded amused; she must have picked his mind for the details. "I like that kid, whoever she is. I don't recognize her."
"Neither did I," Bernard realized, and he knew everyone. But he decided to focus on the problem at hand. "Elle, just let me in. I've got…" He ran his fingers over an object in his pocket. A shiny, round object. "I've got something I need to give you."
"Why?" Elle asked skeptically.
"Because…there's somewhere we need to go. Together."
There was a pause, and then a sound like someone dropping a spoon and banging into a coffee table at the same time. In fact, that was exactly what Bernard figured had happened, as he heard a moan of agony and then the sound of someone limping over to the door. He pulled his head away and clasped his hands behind his back.
The door was slowly opened by Elle, who had a bit of trouble with the latch since one hand was holding a tub of peppermint bark Haagen-Dazs and the other, her right shin.
She looked up at him with a grimace on her face. "Ow."
"Tell me about it." Taking the ice cream out of Elle's hand, Bernard wrapped one arm around her and they both limped rather awkwardly to the sofa, since each had the opposite leg injured. Elle collapsed backward into the plushy red velvet, and sighed. "The spoon's somewhere down there," she said, gesturing vaguely below the coffee table. "My shin just happened to get in the way of me retrieving it."
"Hey, better your shin then your head," Bernard reasoned, reaching into his bag and pulling out a new spoon. He handed it to her. "Here."
Elle eyed the spoon warily. "Is this clean?"
"No, I keep a collection of dirty spoons in my bag." Bernard said, rolling his eyes.
"Hey, it never hurts to ask." Elle took the spoon and examined it. "So you haven't used it?"
"No. Why does this matter anyway?"
Elle shivered dramatically. "I don't share spoons with other people. Not even you," she said, countering his look of indignation. "It's just…spit. And germs, other people's germs; and whatever they ate before that, and if they even brushed their teeth that morning…just ugh." She shivered again.
Bernard crossed his arms. "So you're saying, you'll kiss me, but you won't eat off of a spoon I've used?"
Elle shook her head stubbornly. "Nope," she said popping the P, then making a gagging face. She stared at the spoon a moment longer before pressing it back into Bernard's hands. "I'd better not take any unnecessary risks."
"So…you're saying you don't trust me."
"No…" Elle looked away uncomfortably. That was an incredibly incriminating thing for her to have said.
With a sigh, Bernard lifted her chin. "You know what I worry about? That you may never learn to trust me." His face grew slightly weary and distant.
"I trust you," Elle protested quietly, and kissed him reassuringly. But she could almost taste the sadness in his kiss, and could feel it radiating from his mind. She pulled away. "You don't believe me."
With a sigh, Bernard shifted uncomfortably beneath her gaze. "Elle… you know I want to. But the evidence is plain as anything. You don't trust me; not with the things that matter."
"What is this, CSI Elfsburg?" said Elle sharply. "Evidence indeed. We're supposed to be fighting anyway. You publicly humiliated me!"
"I already APOLOGIZED for that!" Bernard said a bit too forcefully. Elle shot him a look. "Sorry. I am sorry about that." He cupped her face gently. "But Elles, we can talk about figures, and, and quotas, and projected completion dates all day, and sometimes you don't even tell me that your parents called!" said Bernard. Elle's reaction was immediate: her face closed off, and she tensed.
"You don't always need to know when my parents call," she said stiffly, pulling away.
"Excuse me? Yes, I do! I'm half of this relationship, Elle!" The tone of the conversation was escalating rather quickly.
"You just had to go and turn this into something about my parents, didn't you? I shouldn't have let you in." Elle scowled, and got up off of Bernard's legs in a bit of a huff.
Bernard immediately rose, and began to follow her. "Elles? Elle!"
She ignored him completely, heading for the kitchen.
"Ellenora!" he said in a commanding tone. Bernard was really the only one who ever used her elvish name. Most everyone still referred to her as Ellington, or simply Ms. Elle. As it was, it made her rather angry to hear him use it as a means of controlling her; he, as Head Elf, could command attention from any elf by using their full name, and he was clearly making use of that rule now.
Elle whirled angrily, making him stop short in surprise. Her face was contorted in rage. "WHAT, oh Mr. High and Mighty?" she demanded. Even the sparkles on her cheeks seemed to twinkle in anger. "Do you want me to tell you? That I don't want you around when I talk to my parents sometimes?"
Bernard felt like he'd just been punched in the gut.
"I don't know what you want me to confide in you," Elle went on, poking him roughly in the chest. "But my family doesn't even know you exist. They don't even know I'm engaged! And how do I tell them that, Bernard, hmm? Without giving everything away? You tell me."
Bernard (wisely) said nothing.
"I can't!" Elle cried bitterly. "I can't. See, I don't have any picturesque story to tell them, of how we fell in love. How you, won me over. How you proposed. You didn't even have to propose, Bernard! And you wonder why I doubt that you even want me." She let her hands fall at her sides and took a step back.
"I don't want you there because I feel the guilt of that enormous lie a thousand times more when you're sitting there next to me, as real as anything. When I have fallen in love with you in the craziest, most insane way I can think of…and with the most confusing, magical back-story anyone could have thought up." Elle stared at Bernard, eyes bewildered. "How can I feel all that, and hold it back from the people I love most in this world, this reality? Or any other, for that matter."
Bernard frowned, his eyes darkening. "And how do you expect me to not worry about you the rest of the time, when you're so obviously upset, and I don't know what happened? When I can't fix it?"
"Bernard, it's not your job to fix me." Elle looked at him in shock. After a look of irritation crossed her face she turned and went into the kitchen, without another word to dilute the coldness in the air between them.
Bernard sighed exasperatedly, and followed her. "Elle, why do you have to be so overdramatic about things, you know? It leaves me no choice but to do things that hurt you."
Making a distinct effort not to look at Bernard, Elle set about making more coffee…rather violently, it seemed; she was slamming things a bit harder than was really necessary. "I am not so overdramatic!" she exclaimed, flicking the faucet on and washing out her mug. "This is life, Bernard; this is what we're actually dealing with. I for one didn't expect my love life to be so complicated– if I ever got a love life, which I wasn't planning on, mind you. After being reported in Forbes' "Fifty Heirs Most Likely to Make a Future Power Couple", I wasn't really keen on it. They paired me with a freaking Kennedy, for Tinsel's sake! Unbelievable." She paused mid rant, then turned and pointed at Bernard with a bubbly scrub brush. "By the way, don't think I didn't notice you just quoted Kermit the Frog on me. I am not Miss Piggy."
Bernard feigned an innocent look. Elle scowled and went back to washing.
"My family is the one thing that keeps me looking back, B," she said. Her voice had softened as she scrubbed almost thoughtfully at the mug. "If it weren't for them, I think I could have moved on and we'd be somewhere…somewhere different." She stared out the kitchen window at the square below.
"Somewhere different?" Bernard asked gently, coming behind her and removing the brush from Elle's hands. Then he wrapped his arms around her middle, and set his chin on her shoulder.
Elle sighed, and leaned her head against his. "You know," she said quietly, "Judy must have asked me a thousand times now if we've set the date." She looked down at the bubbles clinging to her engagement ring. "And she's not the only one, either. Carol, Abby, half the elves in the Workshop. I never know what to tell them."
"You remember what I told you?" Bernard murmured soothingly in her ear.
"That we can take as long as we need, there's no rush to our getting married, and that whenever I'm ready, you'll be ready," said Elle. She leaned back into his arms. "It's the perfect thing to say; and I know that with my heart in two places I'll need the time….only sometimes….sometimes I wish…."
"That we could just go ahead anyway," said Bernard. Elle nodded silently. "Elle, you've said it yourself: your heart is in two places. I don't want you to feel like I've trapped you up here, away from your family. Only," he laughed a little, "I think you already do."
"I DO NOT!" Elle cried, whirling around in his arms to glare at him. "Take it back."
"Okay, okay," Bernard said, still laughing. "I take it back."
"I'm here because of you, not because you won't let me leave," Elle corrected. "Hell, if I wanted to leave, I'd like to see you try and stop me."
"Been there, done that," said Bernard, rolling his eyes. Elle frowned at him. "What! I'm just saying."
"It's my parents who think I'm being held hostage up here," said Elle ruefully. "I don't blame them really; I've given them so little information to go on these past two years that they're about ready to send the FBI across the Canadian border to hunt for me."
"They wouldn't have much luck," said Bernard.
"Which would only prove their point even more," Elle argued. She sighed. "They know something's not right; and no matter what I try and tell them they won't believe the simple fact that I am fine."
"Just fine?" Bernard asked pointedly.
Elle smiled softly, and setting on hand to his cheek, kissed him. "I'm wonderful. But that only makes things more difficult. I'm happy here, without them, and they know it; which raises a hell of a lot of questions. I can't tell you how many times Dottie and my mom have barraged me with questions about my love life. Ugh." She made a face. "As if I would tell them, anyway."
Bernard thought for a moment. His conversation with Santa earlier that week came to mind. "What if," he said slowly, "And this is only a theory, mind you… what if we told them the truth?"
"Oh, pffff." Elle waved him off. "Don't be ridiculous." She took a closer look at his expression. "You're not serious?"
"Yeah, I am," Bernard said. "What if we just, told them everything. About you, and me, us. About what you really do at work."
"Bernard, don't be a tease," Elle chastised. "You know as well as I do that the S.o.S. keeps us from telling any mortal about the true location of the Pole, the existence of elves, or the whereabouts of Santa."
"Santa told his In-laws," Bernard pointed out. "And believe it or not, no elf has ever been taken from a family before. I don't expect there are any rules about what to tell them or not."
"I…" It took Elle a moment of frantic thought before realizing Bernard was right. "I suppose so…"
"What if we took a trip to visit your parents," suggested Bernard. "I know we meant to during our vacation, but for obvious reasons that didn't work out."
"We can't leave the Pole now," said Elle, pulling out of his arms as if to dismiss the subject. "Christmas is in 27 days, and we can't leave Curtis in charge again."
"We could leave Quintin in charge," Bernard offered. "He's got better management skills than Curtis by far. I'd actually feel okay about putting him behind the reins for a while."
"How long is 'a while'?" Elle was going about making coffee again. She poured some of the grounds into the machine and took a moment to savor the smell of the roast before closing the compartment.
"Oh, a couple of weeks. Say, December?"
Elle laughed out loud. "December, right. The one month when the crap hits the fan, every time. Why not go out of town then?" She shook her head.
"It's the best time," said Bernard insistently. "Your family might understand better during the holiday season. Our magic is stronger then."
"I thought that if we left the Northern Regions we would revert to human form anyway." Bernard had told her this the last time they had planned on making the trip to Seattle.
"For a while," Bernard explained. "But every elf reverts to true form on Christmas Eve."
"Oh. Great, so my family can freak out as I sprout some pointed ears and a shimmery glow," Elle quipped sarcastically. "I'm sure that will make everything perfectly clear."
Bernard watched her expression carefully. "You say that like you don't want them to know you're an elf at all."
With a sigh, Elle said, "Telling them I'm engaged is one thing. Telling them that I've switched species is something else entirely."
"Elle, they have to know. Otherwise they won't understand the rest of it."
"Why not?"
"Because," Bernard said with a sigh, "they won't understand how you work at Santa's Workshop if you're not an elf."
"You make telling them sound so simple," Elle muttered. "Yet I know when it comes to it, they'll freak out on me."
"No they won't," Bernard soothed, but Elle just laughed again.
"You don't know my family. My father refused to admit there was such a thing as a lint roller until he became a business man. He used duct tape for the first three months!"
"Duct tape…" Realization crossed Bernard's face. "So that's why you used duct tape to get glitter of the Naughty and Nice Center consoles. They're still doing that, by the way; to keep the buttons clean."
"Yeah, well, imagine that man's reaction when he finds out that his daughter became an elf."
"So that she could marry an elf," Bernard added, with a panicked look.
Elle gazed contemplatively at him. "Yeah…it kinda is your fault, isn't it?"
This did nothing to relieve Bernard's worries. Instead, he looked more frantic.
"We'll go when the time's right," Elle told him. "For now, I'm gonna have some coffee, and finish this episode of Who before lunch break is over. Feel free to join me if you like." Grabbing her now full mug of coffee, Elle kissed him lightly on the cheek and left him standing there, not a little freaked out.
What if her family blamed him, for keeping her away?
Oh no, Bernard realized with horror, they definitely would.
Unfortunately for Bernard, this changed nothing. He had his "orders" from Santa, so whether he wanted to or not he couldn't put off the family dilemma any longer…regardless of where the blame would lie when he finally met them.
"Elles, wait." With a deep sigh, he followed her out into the living room. "You're kinda missing the point here. I know we've been putting this off, but we can't. Not anymore."
Elle turned around, confusedly. "What do you mea…"
Bernard was pulling something out of his pocket.
"Bernard," Elle said warningly, the mug shaking a little in her hand. "Now, we just talked about this…"
He held it out to her. "Come on. Take a look."
Elle almost turned and stormed back to the couch, but something seemed to change her mind. She simply had to know what was in Bernard's hand. So she set the mug down on a nearby table and came forward, cupping Bernard's hand in her own. "What is it?" She asked, looking at him wide eyed.
A small smile crept onto his lips. Without a word, he tipped the contents into her palm.
It wasn't small, and thin like she'd expected. It was large, and heavy; smooth and cold. Metallic. It took up the entire space of her palm. From between her hand and Bernard's, Elle could hear a faint ticking.
She gasped, and covered her mouth with one hand. "No," she said, giving him a look of disbelief. Bernard broke into a grin. "You didn't!"
"See for yourself," he said wryly, pulling his hand away and setting it under hers.
Elle stared in fangirlish awe.
In her hand was a working copy of the Doctor's fob watch, complete with Gallifreyian etching and chain loop.
Clasping it in both of her hands (and letting Bernard's drop in the process,) Elle did a little dance of glee (it involved hopping from toe to toe, believe it or not.)
"Do you know how hard I looked for real versions of this online?" she gasped excitedly. "Quintin was busy with the screwdrivers –which are totally awesome, don't get me wrong– but I couldn't…" She gave Bernard a look of complete wonder and amazement. "Where did you GET this?"
Bernard crossed his arms triumphantly. "Where do you think?"
"No," she said again, giving him a sideways smirk that was very reminiscent of the Tenth Doctor. "B, you didn't. You didn't!"
"You like it?" Bernard asked with an eager look in his eye.
Elle responded by flinging her arms around his neck in a massive hug. "I'll take that as a yes," he laughed, burying his face in her curls.
"It works! It actually works…well, I suppose it's not too hard to make a fob watch tick," Elle said energetically, pulling away to gaze at the watch again, "but one of this kind of accuracy…I mean, that looks like the real thing!"
"Look inside," he said, taking her hands in his own and popping open the top.
The TARDIS was etched into the top of the lid, the lines having been welded blue somehow so that it was a very accurate model. The words Police Box were clearly visible, as well as the entire contents of the plaques on the door.
"How did you do it?" Elle said in wonder. "The words are so tiny…" She squinted at the miniscule text.
The display was exactly the same though; but it was ticking. "Does it do anything?" Elle asked, with a mischievous look at Bernard.
He grinned, "Well," he said, "it can't exactly take you through Space and Time, but it can take you from one place on Earth to another." He watched Elle's expression of excitement with absolute joy. Nothing could have made him happier than giving her the perfect gift.
Elle grew thoughtful. "But you and I can teleport."
"Not if we're in human form."
She looked up at him knowingly. Bernard gave her a small smile. "It is the right time, Elle."
Elle sighed. She had wanted to postpone for as long as possible, knowing how difficult it would be. But having told Bernard that and seeing he still insisted that she needed to face her fears told her that something was wrong. "Did Santa put you up to this?"
"No," Bernard scoffed, waving her off carelessly.
Elle gave him a dubious look. "Your voice cracked."
Bernard raised his eyes to the ceiling innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice cracking again. He looked down and knitted his brows, rubbing at his throat as if his vocal chords were misbehaving (they were.)
"It's your tell," Elle said, waving a chastising finger at him. She sighed. "So he did. Fantastic." She scuffed halfheartedly over to the table, picked up her coffee, and went to throw herself into the sofa cushions.
This was hardly what you would call good news.
Bernard looked at her, and sighed. Then he came and sat down beside her, pulling her into his arms. He kissed the top of her head. "I'm coming with you, you know. I'll be right there with you the whole time."
Elle sighed, and leaned her cheek against his shoulder. "No offense, Bernard; but that's kind of what I'm worried about."
If I told you that I owned that exact cosplay outfit Elle has, would you believe me?
I own that exact cosplay outfit Elle has. For real!
Okay, I'm in a terrific mood from CS today, and I had this ready so I'm just went ahead and posted it. This was for SafyreSky, my buddy who is stuck at home and not feeling so hot. A hat-tip to herfor the invention of CSI Elfsburg. You rock! :D Also, for WinterFrost15, who is as enthusiastic about WHO as I am. This chapter didn't have Jack in it, but! The next chapter will.
SO MANY WHO FEELS….OMFG. BERNARD MADE HER A FOB WATCH. I WOULD MARRY ANY GUY WHO MADE ME A FOB WATCH, LIKE, ON THE SPOT. Plus: Elle and Bernard are going to see Elle's parents? And who was that little elf girl that kicked Bernard in the shin, hmm? *wriggles eyebrows* Does Elle REALLY have a TARDIS of her own? So many questions… ;)
Note: Elle has only watched seasons 1-4 of Doctor Who, so no Eleventh Doctor…yet *sobs* yeah, he's the best. Just wait till she finds out…;)
All mistakes are my own (Dangit!) And I'm afraid this chapter has a lot of Bernora fluff in it. Ah well! Enjoy it, if you will.
I'm coming down with a bug, and had to spend the day in bed today (it seems to be a bad week health wise for FF authors…three of my friends on here are DFTC.) Ugh. Nausea is the WORST, I tell you what. BUT! I got a new tablet over the weekend (which I may have named the TARDIS o.O,) so updates should become more frequent, as long as I'm able to keep up with the chapters (I'm currently three chapters ahead, as of print.) Here's to hoping! And happy mid-Christmas! *gives out cookies and chilled eggnog*
Reviews and such are much appreciated!
-Ana
