A/N: MilleniumHeart323: I have a theory about how and why Bernard can teleport but it's part of a larger story (that I'll probably never get to) that I hope to get to soon. Yes, I can't understand why he didn't teleport out from house arrest, which is one of my problems with that movie – it makes no sense to me! Which is part of why it's not in my canon. ;) Thanks for the review!

SafyreSky: Any news about the tennis ball yet? JK DON'T DO IT at least until after Christmas. :) I'm glad you approve of both Cupid and Bernard's characterization, although if you believe you don't have B-man's character down 100%, think again! I love your Bernard!

Snowflake888 and LadyElizabeth13, thanks for your kind reviews!

Story starts on December 18th, 1993. (As in a handful of days before Scott Calvin puts on the suit for the first time.) Kinbask isn't a real place, FYI.

4: A Keeper of the Peace

Despite the warmth of Santa's office – the logs crackling in the hearth, the richly-colored walls and tapestries, and the thick-pile rug beneath the desk and chairs – the atmosphere in the room was chilly. The two mugs of cocoa on the desk had been hot ten minutes ago but they remained untouched and had now lost even the cordiality of their steam. Bernard wasn't in the mood to drink cocoa.

From across the desk in a high-back chair, Santa peered gravely over tented fingers at his head elf, who sat steely-eyed and cross-armed, trying not to let on how uncomfortable his chair was. Folding chairs had no place in Elfsburg, let alone on Earth, but Santa always reserved one for use when he wanted someone to feel cowed.

Bernard did not feel cowed; extremely irritated, yes. And more than a little antsy.

"It's December 18th," Bernard said, trying hard to keep his voice even. "Don't you think there's, you know, more important things for both of us to be doing right now?... Checking the sleigh manifest… finalizing the inventories… troubleshooting zero-hour complications – "

"I'm aware of the date," Santa grumbled, and punctuated his statement by narrowing his eyes even more aggressively. "Let's not change the subject. I need you to fully understand the consequences of your actions in Kinbask."

"As I fully understand, there were no consequences, sir," snipped Bernard, which caused Santa to throw up his arms and abandon a large amount of his composure.

"What do you call that footage from the surveillance traffic camera?!" Santa bellowed, rising from his chair. Bernard stifled a cringe. "What do you call the hoopla across the entire southern half of British Colombia? If that's not a consequence, what is it then?"

"We had that tape – and all of its copies – corrupted. You know that."

"How do you know you got them all? What if you missed one?"

"It'll turn into a local myth. Big deal. Everyone's got home videos of ghosts or bigfoot or whatever; how's this any different?"

"The police were involved. This could lead to CSIS involvement," snarled Santa. "How's that for a difference?"

"You think the Canadian Security Intelligence Service would waste their time investigating a rumor that some pointy-eared minor in Kinbask 'disappeared' after ignoring a couple of guards? Pssht. How could that be considered a national threat, and more importantly, how could any self-respecting CSIS agent take a rumor like that seriously?"

"Don't you pssht me," said Santa, shooting an ugly look at his head elf.

"You're blowing this out of proportion," Bernard said, knowing he wasn't doing anything to better his and Santa's slightly-rocky relationship, but after what had happened, he wasn't in the mood to back down. Santa fixed him with an evil eye; it was not becoming at all on the man who would be spreading Christmas cheer in no less than six days.

24 hours earlier…

Kinbask Mall

Kinbask, British Columbia, Canada

It was December 17th and Bernard had not been happy about leaving the workshop to run such a silly little mission. The elves in the radio tower had picked up an incoming signal from the little mountain tourist town of Kinbask in south British Columbia. After Santa had been thrown into a small panic at the thought that someone might have the coordinates of Elfsburg and might be trying to contact them, he'd sent Bernard down to investigate.

"If someone knows we're here, we've got to find out why and shut them up," Santa had worried, sounding more than a bit like a 1920's mob boss. Of course he hadn't meant it that way. Bernard had teleported down and had been only slightly dismayed to note that a blizzard was brewing.

With his own tracking radio, it had taken Bernard about nine minutes to figure out where the signal was coming from. The Kinbask Mall had a used-toy shop, in which he'd found a transistor radio that the elves had put out a year or two ago. Bernard had taken a close look and had found that it was picking up not only the Elfsburg signal but many other obscure signals as well. Five minutes of investigating solved the mystery and now he happily radiod back to Santa with the news.

"Hey Santa," he murmured into his radio, standing in the furthest corner of the shop.

"Number One," his boss said. "News?"

"Yeah. So you know there's a huge cold front coming in fast here, causing some impressive inversion layers spanning nearly the whole Canadian length of longitude 120' W, which is creating an atmospheric duct that's making it theoretically possible for radio signals in Kinbask to reach Elfsburg. Of course we have a squelch code for that sort of thing but it looks like some amateur radio enthusiast has tinkered with this thing and created a general squelch override… which is actually really impressive."

"English, please, Bernard."

"It means… Because of the regional weather, and because this radio's former owner tinkered with it, this radio can detect Elfsburg. That's all. No cause for panic. I'm going to disable it. I'll be back in ten."

"Great. See you then." Santa cut the connection; Bernard sighed and set himself to disabling the offending radio. He worked quickly; Eric Clapton's voice was crooning softly over the Mall's music system, setting the elf's nerves on edge. Kris Kross had started singing before Bernard had finished, which was almost as cringe-inducing as Clapton's song had been, so Bernard was very nearly relieved when the music program was interrupted by an emergency winter weather announcement. He didn't pay much attention to it, as he'd planned on teleporting back north in a matter of seconds.

Job finished, he placed the radio back where he'd found it on the shelf. The moment his hand left the radio, the main lights in the store went out, and precisely one second after that, the store owner appeared at his side.

"Didn't you hear that announcement?" the man asked, his eyes wide in the shadows.

"What?" asked Bernard, surprised at being addressed and wondering if his ears were showing. He tried to subtly tug his hat down.

"Freak blizzard. Took the mall's power out. We're closing the stores but nobody can leave the mall. You finished here?"

"Nobody can leave?" asked Bernard, trying to act like a concerned customer.

"That's right. Take a look out those windows. That's a doozy, eh?" the man said, pointing out of the store front. Bernard walked out into the main mallway and stared at the great white expanse of street-facing windows. It was a doozy, he supposed, for non-arctic standards. Behind him, the owner of the used-toy-store was locking the gate, as were all of the other store staff along the run of the mall. The main lobby was now clogged with pre-holiday shoppers, laden with boxes and bags and small children.

"Attention Kinbask Mall customers: Kinbask Mall Emergency Power now in effect. The city has issued a snow emergency. Due to hazardous conditions, please stay inside the building until further news."

Bernard noted that a security guard and a law officer had moved to stand in front of the main doors. A woman approached as if to leave; the uniformed men held up their hands, said a few soft words, and the woman nodded and turned away.

The lobby was now very crowded, packed with all the people that had been hiding in the nooks and crannies of the shops, looking at desktops and tree ornaments and the newest romantic paperbacks. They pressed in around the TV mounted in the lobby – apparently hooked up to the emergency power – which was now showing a map of the area and the incoming weather. Bernard squinted; there was a lot of red. The marquee at the bottom scrolled past, warning people to stay in their homes and not to venture outside for any reason.

He looked around the rest of the lobby; it wasn't that big, and there were no tiny hallways down which he could sneak so he could teleport undetected. Fleetingly, he wondered if he could simply crouch in a corner and disappear. If people weren't looking at him, nobody would notice.

Frustration hit him as he spotted a security camera mounted in one corner of the mall. In fact, there were two. Three… four… He shook his head. It wouldn't do to be caught teleporting on film, though if it came down to it…

Maybe this would all blow over soon anyways. They couldn't keep these people cooped up in the mall in the dark like this for very long. Bernard wormed his way through the restless crowd to stand in front of the windows and stare gloomily out at the arsenic white of the blizzard, which filled the air outside so thickly that the buildings across the street may as well have been in Russia. He could only see the road because the headlights of the cars outside were making gauzy yellow orbs in the flying snow. There were already considerable drifts accumulating against the mall windows. With wind like this, he knew they were about to see some pretty wild snow sculptures take shape.

The marquee on the TV was now announcing that the emergency and snow-removal vehicles were having a difficult time reaching the 'hard-hit town of Kinbask'. Apparently the little mountain town shared emergency services with a nearby city. How unfortunate.

To his right, a man and his teenage daughter approached the security guard and law officer.

"Excuse me…" said the man. "Our apartment is just down the street. We can just – "

"Sorry, sir," the officer interrupted. "The superintendent's just issued a county-wide State of Emergency. Nobody's allowed out, for their own safety. I'm sorry."

"Oh," said the man, glancing beyond the guards and through the doors. "Well in that case, I guess we'll stay put, eh, Darla?" They turned away and wandered back into the melee of people.

Bernard turned once more to the windows; the cars outside were, predictably, no longer moving. One by one their headlights were turning off. He could now make out drifts coming up around the tires of the nearest cars. As he watched, one car door opened tentatively, but slammed shut right away. The blizzard was too fierce.

Bernard discreetly radiod back to the North Pole to explain the situation. Then he tugged his hat down over his ears again and leaned against a faux-marble pillar, wondering how long his patience would carry him. Ten minutes passed in the dim light of emergency bulbs overhead; the murmur of the crowd a white noise for the white outside. Thankfully, nobody seemed unduly upset, except a toddler who desperately wanted to visit the candy store, which was, of course, closed. The mother of the child had more patience for her kid than Bernard had for waiting around like this when there was so much to be done in the workshop.

Surely, he thought, there was a back door. If he left through the back door, he could teleport in peace. Even if someone saw him leave, by the time they got to the door and looked out, he'd be gone.

A minute later, he returned with dismay to the pillar. The back exit had been guarded. They were taking their state of emergency seriously. Five more minutes passed and he began to tap his foot.

A small commotion at the front door; someone had appeared outside and started banging on the locked doors. The guards scrambled to unlock the door and let in the small abominable mass of snow and shopping bags. Bernard smiled as several people came forward right away to help the newcomer brush away the snow and recombobulate themselves; his smile faded as it soon became apparent that this person was homeless. The bags she carried were obviously not from a recent shopping spree. How many more people were out there in the blizzard, within a town that had locked its doors?

One of the men who had helped her in, who was wearing a Vancouver Canucks Hockey cap, asked her just that; are there more people out there?

She nodded, and shivered into her sodden jacket. The Canucks fan draped his jacket over her shoulders and glanced out the window. He said nothing.

Outside, Bernard saw someone once again try to get out of their car; pushing the door open against the snow took several moments. They were able to take two steps away before being forced back to their car. Bernard wondered who the car-trapped people were. The drifts were now hugging the tops of the wheel wells.

He watched the guards for a moment; they, in turn, watched the people in the mall, sparing quick and nervous glances behind them out at the storm. Bernard pushed away from his pillar and approached them, having to consciously slow down his usual past-paced walk so as not to draw suspicion.

"Excuse me," he said to the shorter officer.

The officer looked at Bernard.

"Um," said the elf, not used to addressing humans in positions of authority other than Santa Clauses. "This lady said there are other people out there. Do you know if there's a search-and-rescue team on duty?"

"A State of Emergency is in effect," the officer replied automatically. "Nobody is to leave this building."

"I asked if there was a search and rescue team out there," Bernard said, equally automatically and a bit irked, before wishing he'd held his tongue. The officer looked at him, a bit surprised, and the taller guard finally spoke up.

"The emergency teams from the next city over are on their way. They'll have help on the ground soon enough."

Bernard nodded his thanks and wandered back to his pillar. The snowfall seemed to be lightening a bit, but the wind was picking up, pushing ever-taller drifts swirling around the cars. Two more people tried to open car doors; they couldn't push past the snow now.

A murmur bubbled up from the crowd watching the TV. Bernard turned to read the marquee, and his heart fell. A small avalanche had blocked the winding road in from the next town. Ploughs were working on clearing it out but the going was slow. The reporter showed a map of Kinbask and the surrounding communities; there was only one road in from the nearest city. The emergency vehicles would be delayed.

Out on the road, all of the cars had now turned off their headlights. He wondered how many cars were out there, immobilized in the drifts, and how long they'd been sitting there. The blizzard had been brewing for an hour or two before he'd even arrived; before the emergency had been declared.

Bernard left the pillar and returned to the guards.

"Excuse me," he said again, "they just said the emergency vehicles have been delayed up on the mountain. An avalanche."

"Yeah, we got the news," the short officer said, pointing at his radio. Bernard squinted at his ID badge: Walter.

"Does Kinbask have any kind of emergency service?"

"We got a few officers," said the tall guard, "besides you, Walter, probably all stationed around the schools… There's Ken and Dale … is that it? Don't we have a fourth officer now?"

"No, she went down to Revelstoke, didn't she?" said Walter. "Last month? Didn't they reassign her?"

"I thought she moved," the tall one said thoughtfully. Bernard's patience died.

"So there are people out on the streets that need help," he said, talking over their conversation. They both looked at him. The tall one looked unsure what to say; Walter leaned back and hooked his thumbs into his belt loops.

"If we could do something about that, laddie, we would. But we'll all just have to sit tight until the superintendent ends the emergency." The Canucks fan who had been sitting with the homeless woman looked up as the guard said this.

"As there could be lives at stake here," Bernard said, fighting with himself to keep his 'head-elf-voice' in check, "do you think it would be possible to put together a volunteer civilian team and see if we could – "

"Look, kid," interrupted Walter, "it's a nice thought but we have orders to keep everyone here safe and out of harm's way; that's what we're gonna do. Okay?"

"I think a civilian team is a good idea," said a new voice. Bernard turned; the man who'd been helping the homeless woman now stood a few steps away. "This woman was just telling me, there are people out there that can't help themselves. She said there's some outdoor shelters just two blocks away where we'd find many of the people. It wouldn't take much for some of us to bundle up and go help them back here."

"This isn't up for discussion," said Walter, whose face had become hard.

"The people out in those cars could use a hand too," said Bernard, carefully. "They've been stuck out there for what, one, two hours? They can't even get their doors open."

"Isn't up for discussion, boys," Walter repeated again.

Disturbing the public peace – such as it was – was not on Bernard's to-do list for the day. He clenched his teeth and turned away, and was surprised to find that a couple people had been listening in on their conversation. When he looked at them, their gazes fell to the floor or turned away, feigning disinterest. Bernard paced back to his pillar, distressed. He almost pressed the call button to contact Santa and tell him what was going on, but what would he be able to do? No help would come from the North Pole fast enough; Kinbask was on its own.

Someone had joined him by the pillar, leaning on the other side and staring out the window next to him; the Canucks fan. The man was thin and not much taller than Bernard; tufts of grey hair under his hat and salt-and-pepper stubble betrayed his age. Possibly not exactly fit for an Antarctic expedition… Then again, neither was Bernard.

"Pretty bad out there," the man muttered.

"Yeah," Bernard responded. He knew if he said anything else, he'd be committing himself to serious interference, something he wasn't sure Santa would be happy about.

He turned and caught the eye of the Canucks fan; something in the man's eyes told Bernard that they'd just agreed to something. Alright then, thought Bernard. Here we go. Together they left the pillar and approached the group of people who'd been listening in on their short conversation with the guards. Five of them said they'd be willing to go outside to help bring people in. It didn't take long for six more from nearby groups to join the volunteer task force as well.

Officer Walter had pricked an ear to the crowds, however, and now approached the growing clump of volunteers.

"Look here, folks. Real honorable of you to talk about doing this but I have to ask you to hold tight. I'm sure the weather will clear up soon," he said, glancing out the window. The winds were still whipping the snow into a frenzy; the drifts against the windows were almost too tall for Bernard to see over now. "Once again, we can't allow you through these doors."

"But… People out there need help," said one of the volunteers. Walter rolled his eyes in response.

"Look, once again, I have orders from the superintendent. He says – "

"Did you just roll your eyes?" Bernard snapped, unable to contain his irritation. "We heard you the first time. Your superintendent isn't here right now and we're volunteering to – "

"Kid," said Walter, pointing a finger, "you'd better watch it."

Bernard bit his tongue. The officer was being completely unreasonable, but Walter was still right; Bernard had to watch it. I'm not in charge here, he said to himself. This isn't my turf. He turned away from Walter and stared out the window to try to cool his anger.

There was a brief let-up in the snow and a curtain of clarity opened; Bernard saw through to the window of one of the cars outside. Someone was waving and pounding on their driver's side window, staring in at the people in the mall.

"That's it," Bernard muttered. He left the group to argue with Walter and scanned the rest of the mall patrons; he spotted someone close by wearing a wool scarf. Time to make a scene.

"Excuse me, sir," he said, "I'm gonna go out there for a minute, could I borrow your scarf?"

The young man stared at him, temporarily bewildered, before unwrapping his scarf.

"Thanks. Promise I'll give it back."

"Here, you'd better take my jacket too." The young man shrugged out of his parka and Bernard thanked him and made a note to send something special his way on Christmas Eve. He pulled on the parka, turned, and was irked to see that Walter had reclaimed his post by the door. Fine. He made a beeline for the door and had almost blown past the group of now-placated volunteers before the Canuck fan caught his shoulder.

"You really going out here?" the man asked him.

"See that person out there in that car?" Bernard said, pointing. Several of the people in the crowd turned and looked. The person in the car was still pounding on their window. "Better believe I'm going out there."

"They'll stop you," someone said, gesturing to the guards.

Bernard hoped they wouldn't try; he was a bit afraid he'd anger himself into simply teleporting outside. That wouldn't be good. But it would be better than another moment of inaction.

"Kid, come on," Walter said, as Bernard approached the front doors. "Now don't make me make you stop. Let's keep this peaceful. Just… Hey, stop. Stop right there."

Man, what is this guy's deal? Bernard asked himself. Walter seemed singularly intent on preventing one person from exiting the building. Bernard supposed he was being troublesome but he could care about that later. Now Walter reached up as if to push Bernard back; the elf easily sidestepped and slipped behind the tall guard – who didn't seem inclined to stop Bernard.

"I'm warning you," Walter started. His posture changed a bit; now he was prepared to spar with a teenager. "You try to step out that door and I'll – "

Bernard had no interest whatsoever in knowing what Walter would do if he were to step out the door, so he stepped out the door.

The blizzard hit him hard; he crouched against the wind and stepped knee-deep into a drift.

A few steps into the mess and he glanced back; Walter had not followed, but the Canuck fan had, as well as a dozen or so others. They pushed through the doors and out into the storm, arms held up to block their faces from the worst of it. Several more came trickling out after them. They shoveled the first snow-bound victim out and directed them to the mall, where Bernard could see Walter standing to the side, jabbering angrily into his radio. The tall security guard was gazing out the windows at the volunteers, almost smiling.

A few of the volunteers, not dressed for the incredible weather, fled back inside; several new volunteers came out in their place.

Darkness began to fall heavier than the snow. Over the course of two hours, Bernard and the group of rotating mall volunteers – as well as Officer Ken, who'd seen the group outside from within another building and decided to help – dug forty-three people and six dogs out of snow-bound cars and brought them back to the mall, and found seven people huddled by the previously 'open shelter' the homeless woman had referred to. The shelter had blown apart; three of the people were unable to move themselves through the snow.

After that, night had fallen completely, and the emergency vehicles from the nearby towns arrived. Some exhausted volunteers returned to the mall for the night. Others stayed out to help, and were not asked to go back inside. Confusingly, not three minutes after a pair of aid workers had thanked Bernard and the group he was working with for their time, a group of three officers approached.

"Sirs," said the one in front, and Bernard looked up to see that she was talking to the Canucks fan and himself.

"Yeah?" he replied, dreading what they'd say.

"We have a report here that claims you both were among a group who refused to comply with the lawful direction of an officer of the peace today."

Bernard, who was by now chilled nearly to the bone and whose limbs and back ached from having moved so much snow, wondered if these officers were real.

"Is that true?" she prompted, glancing from Bernard to the Canucks fan. The officers' faces were red from the cold and they were squinting against the wind, but Bernard could see a bit of scarcely-hidden amusement on their faces, with a small streak of what may have been admiration.

"Yeah, I did that," said Bernard warily.

"This report said that, ah, you acted against the superintendent's authority and disturbed the public peace."

"Disturbed the public peace my ass," said the Canucks fan indignantly. Bernard didn't bother to stop him this time. His frustration, which he'd banished through the past few hours' hard work, came back full-force.

"How old are you, kid?" asked the lead officer of Bernard. Bernard fought back the sudden urge to tell her the truth.

"Seventeen," he replied instead, through gritted teeth. He knew it wouldn't take long for the real story to come out and knew that none of the volunteers would end up in trouble. These officers seemed to have an idea about what had really happened already. So far the only unreasonable person involved had been Officer Walter.

"We have witnesses to describe the events," said the lead officer, "but until we can get this straightened out, we're going to have to ask you both to come with us to the station."

The three officers started to move, in a suspiciously pincer-like formation, around Bernard and his fellow disturber-of-the-peace. The elf stood frozen for exactly one second, feeling a bit like he was in a dream, before he looked at the Canuck fan.

"Thanks for helping. Enjoy the gift card I'm sure the city will give you." To the officers, he said: "Guys, I'm sorry, but I don't have time for this."

Then he teleported.

The teleportation was caught by a nearby traffic camera and quickly broadcasted to all district stations. Within three hours, all of the regional subdivisions south of Vanderhoof had a copy of the event. The elf network immediately and efficiently wiped out all known evidence, but not before Santa had had the opportunity to blow a fuse over the whole incident.

Bernard's meeting with Santa on the 18th had been completely unproductive; neither one of them would budge. There was nothing honest that Bernard could do to placate his boss, and there wasn't a thing that Santa could do to make his head elf regret what he'd done. Santa finally dismissed Bernard to go back to work, with an angry wave of his hand.

Bernard left, but did not go back to work right away. Instead he teleported directly to Wrapping. He wasn't in the habit of simply teleporting any time he needed to be somewhere, but perhaps, he thought bitterly, he would rebel against Santa by teleporting at every opportunity. That'd show the big man.

"Show him what, you idiot?" Bernard muttered to himself. He hadn't been this angry in a long time. Taking a breath, he got to work. Right now there was a personal mission to complete. Joining the ranks of wrapping elves, he shoved a specially-picked-and-embellished parka, as well as a new reindeer-wool scarf, into a box with some cheery tissue paper. He leered at the tissue paper, wondering what it was so happy about.

Kindly, the tissue paper replied to him. It told him that it was simply happy to be sent off to someone who'd done a small good deed for Bernard, and that it was pleased as punch to be wrapped around such a fine parka and such a quality scarf. Bernard paused, feeling the angry bubble in his gut start to recede.

"What are you doing in here?" asked a British voice by his shoulder.

"Oh. Hey, Quintin," said Bernard. "I was just… you know… listening to the tissue paper."

"I see. Good advice, I expect?"

"The tissue paper's right."

"It always is, isn't it?" said Quintin, with a smile. "Personal undertaking, this?"

"Yeah," Bernard sighed, shutting the box and reaching for a sheet of paper – not quite as cheery as the tissue paper had been. "And what brings the head of Research and Development to Wrapping?" Bernard asked his friend.

"You do, in fact. I was looking for you and happened to see you through the window. Our British Columbian field crew just collected a bit of intelligence I thought you'd want to hear about."

"Do tell," said Bernard, glancing up from his wrapping job.

"They just radiod in to say there's a little old man wearing a Vancouver Canucks hat down in Kinbask who just stated to a reporter that he'd like to give a big high-five to the disappearing white kid with dreads and a funny hat. I'm here to deliver."

"You? Why were you even in the radio room?"

"Happened to be passing by. This isn't a Santa-sanctioned mission."

"Ooo, risky. Personal undertaking?"

"Better believe it is," said Quintin, smiling.

Bernard and Quintin had, over the decades, perfected their high-five and had rendered it into something that they could both trust would smack them out of a foul mood any time of the year.

A/N: Taking (possibly stupid yet likely helpful) action when (possibly stupid yet likely helpful) action needs to be taken FTW! Huzzah, homeskillets.