Chapter Three:

Dinner with the Clauses


It was completely dark out now, but Bernard still wasn't home yet. As soon as Helen realized that after having let herself in the house, she went about making herself a cup of tea. In a few minutes, she was sitting on the couch in the front living room, the smell of peppermint wafting from the coffee table nearby. The book Curtis had lent her was sitting in her lap.

Helen was tired, but also filled with a nervous energy. What would this book tell her? Part of her wanted to wait for Bernard, to ask him directly, so that if there was anything shocking in it, he might...soften the blow for her. And also, perhaps stubbornly considering how tired she was, she wanted to see Bernard that night. She wanted to be there to greet him when he got home.

But then...Helen was awfully curious. Also, there was really no telling when he might return, and if she fell asleep before reading it then there likely wouldn't be time until tomorrow night to pick the book up again. So, after taking a deep breath, she turned to the page Curtis had bookmarked for her, and started reading:

Why Santa chose to bring me to the North Pole remains a secret between he and myself, but let it suffice to say, he did, and I am eternally grateful. In the description below, I won't dwell on my own state of mind, but rather on the peculiar physical changes I experienced after choosing to live as an elf in this magical place.

Upon first arriving, and for a few days following, no notable change could be seen or felt. In as little as a fortnight, however, I experienced a marked improvement in strength and stamina. I cannot say how much, early on, should be attributed to my receiving regular meals and sleep, however, and how much to the changes inherent in my gradual transformation. I will say that the strength of even the weakest elf is doubly that of a full grown man, and that the strongest among us could do astounding things, if we chose to disguise ourselves as men.

Another distinct change is that my vertical growth stopped. My height, to this day, is still only four feet and seven inches, as I was a boy of ten when brought here. The change began, I believe, almost immediately, as I had been experiencing a fast period of growth prior to my arrival here. In the world of men I surely would be considered no more than eleven or twelve years of age to this day, as, along with my height remaining unchanged, my youthful features remain as well. I have children of my own, yet not a wrinkle on my body can be found, nor spot, blemish, rotted teeth, or indeed any of the other maladies which befall humankind over time.

Within a year of my arrival at Santa's Workshop, my ears, initially rounded at the top, slowly developed the tell-tale points common to all elves. And, although I was only a youth of ten, I was distinctly aware of my body becoming more supple, and full of vibrancy. The physical strength of elves is a natural extension, I think, of the energy which flows through our small frames.

My eyesight also improved, as well as my hearing. The hearing was something I noticed one day, quite suddenly, as I realized that the morning bell, used at the Workshop to denote the rising of the sun, which I thought didn't penetrate into the room where I had been working, did in fact reach my ears there. The day I heard the bell was the day I understood all the heretofore meaningless comments and gestures made at that time of day by various elves with me there. Indeed, all the senses; taste, touch, smell, and of course hearing and sight; thus improved markedly in that first year.

My mind, as well, became sharper. My memory, once so hazy, became very clear. I could recall entire conversations, with a little concentration, which had passed days before. I could also recall what a thing looks like, and see it again with all its movement and color, at will, behind closed eyes. The ability to focus, on whatever task there might be, grew many times over. The sheer amount of work done by every elf here, previously daunting to me, changed to something gratifying to take part in. Rather than feeling mental strain, physical fatigue, and the hopelessness a human might experience if asked to work the daily schedule of any elf, I found instead, by year's end, the work to be both uplifting and productive.

My individual circumstances, having been extreme in the human world, make it difficult to objectively judge what changes during my transition from human to elf, in an emotional sense, should be considered normal. However, I believe it is safe to say that anyone undergoing this change will become more cheerful over time and that, also given time, one will never shun work, but rather relish it. It seems to be the nature of elves to not understand and certainly never experience laziness, or apathy. These traits are solely human. Also, although elves certainly possess a full range of colorful emotions, it can truthfully be said that they are such even minded, warm, kind, thoughtful people that the negative emotions rarely have a reason to surface in anyone here.

I would be remiss, as well, if I didn't briefly mention the fact that elves have magic whereas men do not. Upon arriving at Santa's Workshop, I naturally possessed no magic whatsoever, but within the space of a year I developed the usual qualities, along with a somewhat rare ability known as second sight, which allows me to catch glimpses of the future. This, of course, is the reason I write this account, as I feel it will prove useful to someone who finds themselves in a situation such as I did as a child, and who would benefit from a better understanding than I had of what the transition from human to elf entails.

~Blessings and Joy~

Edmond LeCroix

Helen turned the page and confirmed, with mild exasperation, that this was all Mr. LeCroix had written. The author of Most Unusual Elves had treated LeCroix's comments as an excerpt, defining his origins as a human as one of the characteristics which made him worthy of inclusion in the book. The "usual qualities" of magic elves possessed weren't deemed worthy of detailing out, she supposed.

But...she would get magic! Helen didn't know what that meant, other than possibly developing second sight, apparently, but the very thought was incredible. And, she'd get stronger and smarter, and working long, hard hours would become appealing? Pointy ears seemed to be inconsequential by comparison.

She read the whole thing through once more, and then a third time.

Then, when the feeling of surreality had gotten a little too intense, she reached out for her tea, to steady herself. Helen stopped suddenly, however, remembering how valuable the book she held was. Feeling dazed, she stood up, walked upstairs, deposited the book on the vanity in her bedroom, then came back down again. Sitting down, she went for the tea, pressing the only slightly warm mug against the palms of her hands.

It was incredible. It certainly helped to explain how Santa's Workshop could function as it did. But it was strange to think that she wouldn't be the same any more, that her personality could change. Not even understanding what laziness was? Being incapable of lazing about occasionally would be a big change for her. Being more "cheerful" didn't sound bad, but...at the end of this year, would she recognize herself? She couldn't help feel worried that what made her who she was wouldn't be the same anymore.

Helen found herself thinking of Santa...no. Scott. He had tried to get rid of that long white beard at first. Who had he been before? What had happened to the man who had donned that red coat ten years ago? Was he still in there?

Helen stayed on the couch, stoically waiting. She wanted another person's company, someone to look at her and smile, and reassure her. She wanted Bernard to come through the door and tell her she was being silly, and that he would be there through this process, to...to make sure she stayed herself.

Some time later, Helen finally dozed off, curled up on the sofa.


Bernard silently let himself in his front door, aware that Helen would've gone to sleep hours back. His mind was full of all the things he had caught up on through the day- and all the work remaining to be done over the coming days. Still, the call of sleep had finally lured him back home. Despite the temptation to just keep going, an all-nighter wasn't called for when slightly longer hours for a few days would suffice to catch things up perfectly well.

Bernard had walked most of the way to the stairway at the back before he noticed something odd. He stopped, and slowly turned back around.

A grin spread across his face. He silently walked back over to the front sitting room, and looked down at where Helen lay sleeping. She made no noise when she slept, not even a faint whisper of a snore, and he'd passed right by her in the semi-darkness. Something had caught his eye, though- maybe the cup sitting on the nearby coffee table.

Bernard crouched down, studying her. Had she been waiting up for him? He carefully pulled back a few strands of hair which had fallen in front of her face. She was hardly as tiny as some of the elves here, but Helen still seemed small and delicate, curled up into a ball as she was. Her brow was furrowed just slightly, and Bernard wondered if she was dreaming.

Were they happy dreams? His hand hovered over her forehead for a moment, then he rested it on the couch instead. Just a touch, and he might have a glimpse of her thoughts, if he concentrated. The mind was completely unguarded during sleep. Bernard silently shook his head. It was so easy to forget boundaries with Helen. He wasn't sure why.

Still...

Bernard carefully reached forward, maneuvering to get Helen into his arms, and slowly pulled her until he was crouched, holding her bridal style, with her head carefully tucked into the crook of his elbow. Then he stood carefully, bringing her with him. He became very still, focusing for a moment...and in the next moment, he was standing in her bedroom, upstairs.

Bernard walked to the bed and set Helen down on it with supreme care, arranging her limbs so they were in a natural sleeping position. Then he quietly unlaced her shoes, pulling them gently off her feet, and carefully drew the sheets over her. There. Her sleep would improve in a proper bed. There was nothing wrong with doing that for her, at least.

Bernard paused for a long moment, looking down at her as she breathed gently in and out, a warm, protective feeling in his heart, a gentle smile reaching his face. Then he rolled his eyes at himself, shaking his head again.

There was just something about being a Christmas elf; you loved to see people sleeping peacefully.

Bernard quietly left Helen's room, using another elvish trick to slip quietly right through the wall her that bedroom shared with his own. It was something all elves could learn to do; make themselves change for just an instant, and slip through walls like that. It had become second nature to Bernard ages ago, and was certainly easier than bothering with the door.

Bernard half smiled, half grimaced as he started to get ready for sleep. It would certainly be interesting when Helen learned that trick.


The next several days were a blur for Helen. She slowly got used to being woken by the sound of Bernard eagerly banging on her door in the morning. She would pull herself out of bed, quickly shower, eat breakfast, which Bernard always had prepared, then briskly head out for the Workshop with him.

It was the only time she saw him. The rest of the day was spent in the cookie decorating kitchen, and in the evening someone, sometimes several someones, would always invite her to dinner with them- but it was never Bernard.

Most Unusual Elves had suggested her energy level would improve, but so far Helen found that the early hours and long days, even if it wasn't physically demanding work, left her exhausted. She had grown quiet, mostly listening to the people around her talk. Unlike them, she didn't have the ability to hold a conversation and do good work at the same time.

Speaking of conversations, for some reason, Helen hadn't brought up the book during her conversation with Bernard that first morning. She had been bone tired, having only gotten what must've been perhaps an hour or two of sleep the night before. She hadn't remembered finally dragging herself upstairs, even. And once she had failed to tell Bernard once, something held her back from bringing it up another morning.

After a few nights, Helen also gave up on waiting up for Bernard in the evening. And, as her routine became solid, she slowly began to accept what the others had told her: he was a workaholic. He clearly enjoyed their short time together every morning, as did she- it was, to be honest, the highlight of her day. But she was sad to think he didn't make time to be around her more. He certainly didn't know the meaning of laziness, but oh, she wished he did.

There was an emotional pressure building. Helen was surrounded by happy, warm, giving people...but she wasn't happy. She felt more worried as time passed that things that should make her sad, things that should have meaning, eventually wouldn't effect her any more. That she would be happy, but in a sort of generic, meaningless way. Part of her knew that this fear was irrational. Bernard wasn't that way, or Curtis, or Santa. But more importantly, Helen was still mourning her brother's death, and the thought of forgetting him, of not feeling pain because she no longer cared...that wasn't a fear she could easily push away.

Unfortunately, Bernard, the person she felt most drawn to, the only person she felt comfortable really sharing her feelings with, wasn't really available.


Things passed in much the same way over the next two weeks, and during that time it started to feel like Helen was running a marathon she hadn't trained for. Today, thankfully, was when Santa returned, and she vehemently hoped this would mean a change in Bernard's schedule, as Santa would hopefully be taking over some of his work.

That morning Helen managed to get herself up earlier than usual, taking more care with her hair and even putting on a little makeup. She wore a dress, something she hadn't done since her first day at Santa's Workshop. She didn't know if they would return home before going to dinner, after all, and she wanted to look nice.

When Bernard knocked on her bedroom door, Helen opened it to greet him.

"Good morning." She grinned up at his slightly surprised face. His hand was still raised. He let it drop.

Helen blushed just a little as Bernard ran his eyes up and down her once, looking impressed. "Good morning!" He backed up a little, and they both walked toward the staircase.

He didn't comment on the fact she was dressed up nicely, however. Helen smiled a little wistfully, surprised at how disappointed she felt.

"So...I thought I ought to dress up a little, since we're going to dinner with Santa and his wife."

Bernard stopped suddenly on the stairs, and Helen nearly ran right into him, resting a hand on his shoulder to avoid tumbling down.

Helen removed her hand. "Sorry..."

Bernard put a hand to his hat in a sudden motion, oblivious. "Dinner!? Right, right..." He went from exasperated to grumpy in one instant, then continued down the stairs double time. "I've got to re-arrange some meetings..." He glanced over his shoulder at Helen. "It's a good thing you're ready early!"

Breakfast went double time too, and by the time Helen was dropped at the cookie kitchen, she found she didn't even know what to expect- would Bernard finally be picking her up from there himself, later on, or was she expected to meet him at Santa's home, wherever that was?

Helen went through the day trying her best not to be grumpy, or worse; depressed. She'd never rushed so much in her life, but it seemed to be all that Bernard did.


Bernard did his best not to go through the day being more grumpy than usual. He had completely forgotten about the dinner with Santa and Mrs. Claus that evening, but thankfully Helen hadn't. Santa and Carol, during their arrival back at the North Pole around mid-day, mentioned that they were expecting him and Helen at seven that evening. And that Bernard "wasn't allowed" to think about the Workshop at all during dinner. The conversation would be all about him and Helen, instead.

Oh. Joy. That would be a short conversation.

It wasn't that Bernard didn't like Helen. But how much was there to talk about, really? She was here, now, they were "married", but the Clauses, unlike everyone else at the North Pole, knew that wasn't real in the traditional sense. It hardly mattered- he was sure conversation would still flow. But dinner was definitely a nuisance; as usual, things were on the verge of running behind, particularly since he'd had to catch up after being gone in the days leading up to Christmas.

Bernard did have a pang of something, though, like a a niggling afterthought, in regard to Helen. In his mind's eye, the image of her smiling expectantly up at him in her bedroom doorway, kept returning.


Bernard arrived at the cookie decorating kitchen at six forty-five that evening, practically the latest he could pick Helen up without then being late to the Claus's.

An unusual sight greeted him there. Helen sat, alone, at the huge round decorating table. Her hands rested in her lap, head slightly bowed, as if in prayer.

Bernard walked over to her quietly. He was surprised no one was around, but she had probably told them to go ahead. This was when everyone went to eat. Santa's Workshop believed in regular, square meals.

Bernard tapped Helen gently on the shoulder. "Hi there..."

Helen jumped slightly, and quickly pressed a hand to her eyes, bowing her head deeply for an instant, as if hiding. Then she looked up at him, gaze strangely hooded.

"Hey...is everything okay?" Bernard studied her face, but her emotions were hidden away, behind a careful smile.

Helen's voice was quiet and clipped. "No. I mean, yes. There's nothing." She stood up. "I just wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. We didn't...communicate, earlier. I didn't know..." She dropped off, and he caught a glimpse of pain, as she glanced down and away.

As usual, being around Helen was causing Bernard's thoughts and worries concerning the Workshop drop away. But this time, in their place...was guilt.

Instinctively, Bernard leaned forward a little. More than ever, he wanted to touch his forehead to hers, to get a feel for what was really going on in there...

Helen started to lean back as he leaned forward, and he straightened up immediately, realizing how strange that would seem if he continued. And, he could hardly tell her he only wanted to touch foreheads to read her mind. There he was, so easy-going about invading her privacy again!

Still, Bernard could guess, as he glanced around the empty room. "Were you worried I...wasn't going to come get you?"

Helen's eyes widened just enough to tell him he was right. Bernard shrugged, and snorted softly, at his own thoughtlessness. "I'm...sorry, Helen. I should've...communicated, like you said. That was thoughtless."

Seeing the guilt and concern in Bernard's eyes made Helen feel guilty herself, but also relieved that he understood. He did care...and he hadn't forgotten her. She swallowed back the remainder of the depression she'd been feeling moments back, and shook her head, eager to reassure him.

"No, no, it's...it's fine. Well, it's not fine, but...just, don't do it again, okay?" She smiled up at him, relief and joy on her face.

Bernard smiled back gently. "I won't. I promise."

Then he reached down, taking her hand, and gently pulled her toward the door. "Come on, we'll be late." Bernard smiled at her again, and Helen followed, catching up so she walked by his side.


Fifteen minutes later saw them standing on Santa's doorstep, Bernard having just knocked on the front door. Santa opened it moments later, and greeted them with arms spread wide.

"Helen! Bernard! Come on in..." Santa stepped back, and as he closed the door behind them, Carol Claus arrived in the front room as well.

"Helen!" Carol reached out, taking Helen's hands in both of hers. "You look lovely." Helen blushed happily.

"You look lovely, Mrs. Claus."

Carol smiled warmly. "Oh, no...it's just Carol. Please." Then she got a funny look on her face, as if suddenly remembering something. "Oh! Let me see..." Carol leaned forward, inspecting something next to Helen's face, then moved back again, smiling ruefully. "No points yet..."

Helen's hands went to both ears, her eyes wide as she felt for them herself. Nope, still the same.

Everyone in the room burst out laughing at her reaction. Even Bernard laughed a little. Helen smiled sheepishly.

Santa grinned at his wife. "I think it takes a little longer than that..." He clasped his hands. "So! Ready to eat? I'm starving!" He gestured toward the dining room, and before long everyone was seated, Bernard and Helen on one side of the table, Santa and Carol on the other.

The food was already laid out, ready to be served to their plates, and in a few minutes, everyone had begun their meal.

Bernard made the mistake, early on, of bringing up an issue at the Workshop as a conversational topic. Santa was quick to cut him off.

"Ah, ah, ah...Bernard. This is personal time. You know how this works." He smirked over at Helen. "He always does this. One track record."

Bernard rolled his eyes, giving up, and went back to his food.

"Do you want to know something interesting, Helen? This house, and your house, they're actually direct extensions of the Workshop, connected to the magic there. Bernard, and me...if something goes wrong, we'll know. And as our wives, you and Carol should also know, but Bernard tells me it should be..." He paused, glancing over at Bernard expectantly. "Well, Bernard?"

"Hey, I thought the Workshop was off limits..." Santa give him a look, and Bernard smirked. He looked over at Carol, then Helen. "In that case, I'll answer the question. It's really strong for me and Scott, but for you it should only be an echo. A feeling of something not right, if you know what I mean."

"Kind of like indigestion or something?" Santa took a bite of food, chewing as Bernard stared back at him.

"Yes, Scott. Exactly like what you'll be feeling later tonight." He glanced over to Carol. "Nothing against your cooking, Carol, the food's excellent."

Carol smiled warmly. "Thank you, Bernard."

Santa narrowed his eyes. "Hey, a healthy appetite comes with the gig, you know that better than anyone, Bernard."

Carol, prodded Santa slightly in the ribs. "Of course he does, Scott. Right, Bernard?"

"Right. Naturally. Part of the...role." But his eyes still laughed a little, poking fun. Helen watched the interaction. What a funny pair these two made. Santa and Bernard, that was. Carol almost acted like referee.

Santa explained a bit more. "So, the last time there was an emergency, I was actually away from the North Pole, so I was mostly oblivious to the whole thing. Actually...it's when Carol and I were getting to know each other..."

Bernard rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Meanwhile, I was put under house arrest." Bernard grimaced at his plate. "Fun times. The Workshop was letting me know something was wrong, but I couldn't do anything about it." He stared up at Santa, from under his hat. "I had a headache for days."

"Hey! Okay, fine. Plastic Santa was a bad idea. You're completely, totally right." He raised an eyebrow, smiling. "Haven't we had this conversation?"

Bernard smirked. "Yeah, yeah...anyway, my point is, Scott's right. The Workshop let's me know when there's a real emergency. As long as I'm at home, or at the Workshop. Or here, of course."

Santa looked thoughtful for a moment. "If it makes you feel any better, I got a little karma thrown my way while you were gone, Bernard...I guess the Workshop didn't like that its Head Elf had gotten himself lost any more than the rest of us did." Santa and Bernard looked at each other for a moment, and Helen could see what good friends they really were at heart.

"Huh." Bernard gave him a lopsided grin. "Well...I hope your headache wasn't too bad."

Santa gave a good natured wave, brushing away the concern. "Don't worry, I survived."

There was a lull in conversation for a few minutes, as everyone ate.

"So...Helen. Bernard." Carol leaned forward, placing her chin daintily on her criss-crossed fingers, elbows on the dining table. "How are things going with you two?" She smiled at them both, everything in her expression saying I'm all ears.

If Helen didn't know any better, she would've assumed Carol thought their marriage was for love. She glanced shyly over to Bernard, who seemed oblivious.

"Helen's great! She's just about the easiest person to be around that you can imagine." Bernard glanced her way, grinning slightly, and took another bite of food.

"So, how much time are you two spending together?" Carol's look hadn't changed.

Helen picked at her food, knowing she ought to answer since Bernard was still chewing. But something held her back, making her hesitate, and a few seconds later Bernard answered again instead. Helen didn't want to admit how little time they saw each other every day.

"We eat breakfast together every morning. Then, you know, my day is much longer than hers so we don't see each other in the evening...but I look in on her during the day several times."

Helen stared down at her plate, surprised. Then she looked up at Bernard. "You...do?" She realized belatedly that it sounded like she was calling him a liar, and went on. "I mean, I didn't know." She quickly took a bite of food, to be doing something.

"You don't face the door where you sit, but yeah, I check up on you during the day. Just like a said I would." Bernard smiled warmly at Helen, feeling protective, and almost tousled her hair, just as he had that very first morning after she moved in, but remembered at the last second that she wouldn't like that, and settled with patting her shoulder a few times instead.

Helen tried to stop the blush threatening to rise to her cheeks. Bernard had just treated her like a small child in front of the Clauses, and it was embarrassing. It didn't matter that he was much, much older than her.

For love or not, they were technically married. A husband treating his wife like that was just plain condescending.

Hating that she was feeling so resentful all of a sudden, Helen quickly forked another bite of food into her mouth, to hide her feelings, and mentally told herself that she was overreacting.

Carol let her hands drop from her chin to the table, giving Bernard a somewhat stern stare. "So. You guys only eat breakfast in the morning together? Bernard, you need to set aside a few nights in the week. Spend time with your wife!"

Bernard stared for a moment before responding. He honesty didn't know how to interpret that. He tried to phrase things carefully, but felt a little exasperation well up. "There a lot of things to do to make Christmas happen every year, Carol..."

"Of course, but..." Santa caught Carol's eye again, and she dropped off, something passing between them. She smiled, tilting her head in acknowledgement. "I'm sure you'll make as much time for Helen as you possibly can, Bernard."

Bernard was on the verge of reminding Carol that this was only a marriage of convenience, so to speak, but refrained. She had a point. Helen was lonely. That was what he'd seen in the decorating kitchen, that she had hidden away so quickly. Carol could probably tell. Empathy was one of the biggest traits a Mrs. Claus always had, after all.

Right now, Bernard was failing Helen, as a friend.

"I...can do that, Carol. Promise." He smiled, calling a truce. He reached to the side, squeezing Helen's shoulder, and glanced over to her. "I haven't been around much, have I?" He smiled apologetically at her.

Helen stared at him, wide eyed.

How did she tell Bernard that she wanted to go back to Christmas day, when it had been just them, together every minute? Singing and talking, joking...cooking together. That the lack of his presence these last two weeks had obviously hit her much harder than she had realized, until just now. And also, just this minute, she was realizing that she couldn't have that again.

Bernard had been telling her as much for the last two weeks, through the schedule he kept. In this place, he didn't have time for her. He'd just said as much to Mrs. Claus. As the realization that Santa and Mrs. Claus coming back from vacation would not fix her problems finally sank in, a wave of depression crashed down on her, and she had to fight the urge to run away from the table, to hide how ungrateful she felt, how disappointed and disillusioned. Because these people were loving, and wonderful, and...the was ashamed to even be feeling this way.

Instead of jumping up to run away, Helen forced herself to speak through an overly tight throat. "I'm..." she cleared her throat loudly, "I need the lady's room. Sorry..." She got up abruptly, feeling her cheeks flushing red.

Carol told her where to go, as they all watched her clumsily get around her chair, and then Helen scurried off.


Dinner with the Clauses ended on a polite, warm note. Everyone had given Helen the benefit of the doubt earlier that her reason for fleeing had been gastro-intestinal rather than emotional in nature, and conversation had moved tactfully on after her return from the bathroom. After saying goodbye, she and Bernard started out toward home together in the semi-dark.

Bernard reached out and took her hand as they started walking, swinging it back and forth in a playful gesture. This time Helen didn't find it endearing. It made her think of the way he'd patted her on the shoulder earlier. She remained silent, although she didn't withdraw her hand.

Bernard could feel the emotional tension coming from Helen, and after several seconds he finally gave up on her relaxing, and gently let her hand go again. He glanced down at her, trying to discretely see her face. He put his hands in his pockets, and whistled a line from "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town" under his breath.

"I had to sing a line from that song when Scott- Santa- first came here. He didn't know what I meant by 'the list'." Bernard grinned, laughing a little under his breath at the memory.

Helen responded, sounding distant. "...oh? That's funny." She smiled half heartedly. Bernard walked in silence for several moments. He'd never seen her this disengaged.

Minutes passed in silence, as they walked.

Then, as if waking up, Helen finally said something. "I'm going to...change like that?" She abruptly stopped walking, staring up at him plaintively. She looked very afraid, and Bernard stared back in complete surprise.

"Change...?"

She looked down at her feet, lips drawn in a thin line. "Like...like Scott." She bit her lip, brows furrowed.

Bernard sighed. They were practically home, and this wasn't a conversation he wanted to have outside in the dark. He pulled her lightly by the elbow, and after a moment of resistance she started walking with him again, head bowed.

"Helen, I think we need to talk..."


Author's Note: Comments, questions? Kind of a slow chapter I guess. ^^ Thanks to those who reviewed! I appreciate it!