Disclaimer: The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause and all its characters, creations, and such belong to Michael Lembeck, Ed Decker, John J. Strauss, and all others who helped create The Santa Clause trilogy. I own nothing except Clarabella Bloom, Bridgette Burns, Doyle Stark, and any other character not of Michael Lembeck, Ed Decker, and John J. Strauss's creation that are original characters of my own creation. My plot idea for this fanfiction comes from my imagination. Credit for the portrayal of the characters of The Santa Clause trilogy go completely to the actors and actresses behind them, especially Tim Allen and Martin Short, who portrayed Santa Claus/Scott Calvin and Jack Frost, respectively. I have not written this fanfiction to benefit me in any way, shape, or form; I am merely using my imagination in addition to Michael Lembeck's, Ed Decker's, and John J. Strauss's characters, creations, and such to produce this fanfiction for my entertainment and enjoyment, nothing more. The quotations from the chapter titles belong to William Shakespeare unless otherwise noted.
Author's Note: This chapter has been in the works in my mind for a very, very long time. My apologies for the unbelievably long wait for this update. First, a HUGE thank you to Trekkie101 for the support (and well-deserved nudge) to pick this fun fanfiction up again, and tell the story of these characters! Many thanks also to those of you who have been fans of this fanfic since the beginning and for all the new fans out there—I truly appreciate all your support! 3 I intend to post the upcoming chapters in a more timely fashion from here on out. For now, on with the show! :D Enjoy!
Publish Date: Monday, January 1, 2018
Why it Snows in Spring
Chapter Ten: My Woman's Heart Grossly Grew Captive to his Honey Words
Clarabella fell into herself as quickly as she had been torn away only minutes—or had it been years?—before. What was all that? She'd been at the North Pole with Jack, and then he'd brandished that ring—that ring—the one that Clarabella smashed onto the ground. No, no… not the ring, the snowglobe! Even now thoughts swam and twirled and blurred in the nymph's head, and she clasped her hands over her ears, trying to ground herself to this timeline, the one she should exist in, the one where nothing bad happened because of Jack.
She was panting now, slumping completely onto Doyle as her legs refused to bear her weight. He immediately folded his arms around her, trying to help her stand, and called out her name, but it was all muted behind the visions that wouldn't leave her crowded thoughts.
Clarabella shrieked as she dropped into a pile of snow beside Jack and Scott, feeling as stunned as Jack looked. He scurried away from her and Scott, mumbling something about his coat.
The nymph glanced around helplessly. Where was she? She certainly wasn't at the North Pole anymore. In fact, even though there was a thick blanket of snow on the ground, she found herself a much too warm for her liking, and she immediately shed her cloak.
"Jack!" She cried out, finally centering herself enough to stand on her quivering legs. "Jack Frost! You tell me right now what's going on!" She screeched, stomping the snow with her impossibly high heels.
Jack didn't even acknowledge her demand; he was too absorbed in his struggle against Scott, who had the bigger man pinned to the ground behind the snowman on the lawn.
The door of the house to Clara's right swung open, and out stumbled a brunette. She realized with an incredulous exhale that it was a younger replica of Scott.
Not Scott. Santa. That was the real Santa wrestling with Jack.
Clara's fingers frantically buried themselves in her curls as her thoughts suddenly flooded and intermingled. She was Clarabella almost-Frost, First Lady of the North Pole, which her boyfriend ruled and reigned over. Before that, she had been the sprite of spring for three years...
No. No… She was betrothed to Doyle Stark. She had worked as a seasonal nymph for fifteen years, and only recently became a member of the Council of Legendary Figures. But she was never with Jack. Except for the time they shared together on Frostmas before she teased him into leaving…
Oh, she had been with Jack—for all twelve years. Jack himself had seen to that. But they had only kissed, and Clara showed Jack out. But Clara could remember with intimate clarity the feel of Jack's chilled fingers as they caged her face; caressed her thighs; pulled her into him in endless, frigid embraces that left her skin tingling where his chilled flesh touched…
Clarabella cried out into the frigid air, fingers clasping desperately over her ears, as though she could contain the overlapping conversations, the images that bled together until they couldn't be separated.
The flowers Clarabella had thrown into Doyle's arms moments before were immediately crushed between them before falling haphazardly to the ground in a rumpled heap. Clarabella cried out and clutched her fingers into him, desperate to anchor herself to this reality. But was this reality? Clarabella squeezed her eyes shut; she wasn't sure anymore which life was hers.
Her face pressed into Doyle's fleece jacket; she needed the world to narrow to just her-it was too big now that it encompassed two separate lifetimes.
Doyle heard her whimper something, but it was stifled against his chest. "What?" he asked, panic in his voice.
"Is this real?" She exclaimed, lifting her head from his chest as she spoke before burying it once more. He didn't respond, but she felt his embrace tighten around her as her body began to tremble. Doyle called out Clarabella's name, but her eyes opened, wide and unseeing, gazing at the cobblestone beneath their feet as memories of both lives-past and current-whizzed through her vision at a blinding pace.
"Sapphire earrings? Oh, Jack-in-the-box, I love you!... If you know what's good for you, Easter, you'll hippity-hop back over there and paint more candy canes!... I don't care how long you've been working-stop crying! Good little elves are happy to work long hours for Santa; keep making toys!... I will never marry you! You don't love me!... Jaaaack, why won't you marry me? Why won't you marry me? Why won't you-"
"Marry me!" The gasp escaped her lips around a shudder, and she stumbled deeper into Doyle's embrace.
"Wh-What?" Doyle sputtered in surprise and awe down at the quivering blonde.
But Clarabella said no more as she gazed blankly out before her, the last of the memories flickering before her eyes and dying out like a flame, tethering her to this timeline once more. Her chest heaved in and out against Doyle's lanky frame, forcing her panting breaths past her lips to dissipate into the arctic air like smoke.
A long moment of silence later, she steadied herself against him, raising up onto trembling legs so that she was balancing herself against only his arms.
Locking gazes with her, Doyle immediately frowned. "Clara... your eyes-"
"Jack." The croak left her lips idly, but she was on full alert as she saw the winter sprite standing there across the way, bewildered, as Santa ran down the stairs to his wife.
His name was a whisper on her lips once more as a squad of elficers charged through the street, though Jack rapidly circled behind the nearby brick arch, concealing himself from view until they passed. The look he fixed them with as they sprinted by... it sent a shiver down her spine. It was a look that was all too familiar—uncomfortably so.
It was the look she'd given all the elves when she had lived with Jack at the North Pole-one of dark distaste.
What had happened? What had he done to her? And how? She'd never felt that way toward the elves before, never... never felt such... disgust toward them.
She even had to swallow a little of it down now.
Clarabella was pulled from her thoughts when the elficers made another sweep down the street. This time, it seemed as though Jack purposefully stayed put; he even smirked as they captured him, seized his arms, and read him his rights.
"Clara?"
The nymph didn't even hear the autumn sprite say her name; her eyes were locked on Jack as he was escorted into Santa's workshop. Eyes never leaving Jack, she wandered after him, Doyle at her heels, slipping into the workshop before the doors closed behind the unit of elficers surrounding the winter herald.
Jaw set, brows knitted together, Clarabella carefully stepped through the masses of elves gathered around... around something in the middle of the main room. She ducked around the elves; though they were shorter than her, it was Santa-the real Santa-standing in the way of whatever it was they were all staring at.
And then he lowered his knuckles to his side and stepped up to Jack; Clarabella had to cage her mouth with her hands to stifle her horrified gasp.
There, in plain view of them all, stood Lucy's parents-frozen, immobile... Were they even alive anymore?
Neil... Laura...
He'd... He'd done this to... to humans? But why? He... He loved humans...
Didn't he?
They were trading quips now, Santa and Jack, but Clarabella could barely hear anything over racing of her heart. What about Lucy? When had he done this?
She leaned heavily against a nearby post, head swimming-old memories resurfacing again.
Clarabella couldn't tear her eyes away from their crystallized faces, no matter how many ways her stomach twisted in on itself at the sight... The way their faces were contorted in fright pricked the back of her mind... she'd seen faces like theirs before, back when she still relished the thrill of causing fear...
Her breath released from between her lips slowly, and she stopped for a minute, didn't breathe back in again, not until it burned the very base of her lungs.
What had happened? To her, to Neil and Laura... to poor Lucy? And Charlie?
Tears bit at her eyes, tears she furiously blinked away as she stared hard at the frozen couple. She concentrated on them so hard, she only vaguely heard Mother Nature apologizing to Santa, reminding him that there was nothing she could do to melt the frost from the pair.
Still, Clarabella concentrated, her eyebrows knitted hard over her nose, as she envisioned the first rays of the vernal sun, tentatively warm after a long winter, reaching out to the snow and ice to melt it all away. It was how she started her first day of work in the spring, it was... it was going to work, it just had to...
A whimper of effort escaped her trembling lips as she watched a bead of sweat roll down her nose, and finally her tensed body slumped against the column as she panted and gathered herself for another go, even if she knew there was no way she could undo Jack's work when it was like this, when it was beyond her seasonal boundaries... She still had to try, she had to... What would Lucy do if Clarabella couldn't thaw them out? And Charlie?
As she pushed a few wisps of hair away from her face and geared up to blow a warm spring breeze at the ice statues, she watched a cautious gaze light up Lucy's face.
It had been so long since Clarabella had seen that look-a little unsure, but warm and glowing like an ember in the night-that a few moments passed before she could identify it: hope.
Clarabella paused, dismissing her gust of warm wind as Lucy and Santa exchanged a few words and a secretive nod. Finally, Lucy stepped forward, walking cautiously toward Jack. She glanced back only momentarily as Jack tossed insults at her, chilled but meaningless and futile.
Lucy's hope... it was flickering, but it was there, and it wasn't blowing out no matter how hard Jack huffed and puffed at her. Hope. Clarabella's fingertips grazed her jacket just over her heart. It'd been so long since she'd seen hope-she and Jack had seen to stealing it away from the faces and hearts of the elves when they took over...
She closed her eyes against the onslaught of images that splashed across her vision once more. What had happened to her? To all of them? How were they here again now?
Jack's sudden, sharp yelp jerked the nymph's head back up once more and she watched in awe as Lucy's arms wrapped around him, hugging him hard. Then something spectacular happened, something Clarabella had never seen before-as Lucy embraced Jack, his suit cracked and split apart, falling away to reveal a white pinstripe suit beneath. His pallid skin melted away into a light hue that held warmth and even a little color in it. And finally, his hair-the icy spikes smoothed to reveal neatly combed, mousy brown hair beneath.
Clarabella's lips parted, her breath quickening in disbelief. He... He melted? Just from Lucy's hug? Clarabella herself had hugged Jack many times over the last twelve-had it really been twelve?-years. Hugged, kissed, caressed, and even...
She gasped as the heated thought slipped unbidden into her mind, reminding her of all the times she'd done more than just hugged Jack.
The nymph wasn't the only one heating up though; the ice imprisoning Neil and Laura cracked and broke off in sheets until the pair were shivering and whimpering, alive as ever.
Clarabella was vaguely aware of Neil speaking before she felt short, warm bodies press in around her in group hug en masse. She instantly recoiled into herself; too many bodies, too much love, too much, too much, too much.
Head swimming, Clarabella pushed through the crowd, falling forward as she stumbled but catching herself against a nearby toy machine. She didn't falter, her legs never stopped as they carried her out of the workshop and beyond, even as Doyle called out her name.
As soon as she reached her suite, she slammed the door behind her and slumped against it, fighting against breaths that were too shallow and quick to keep up with.
She winced and clawed at her jacket, peeling it from her body as a heat wave hit her. Can't... breathe!
Just how high was the heat on in here and why had the temperature spiked after she left?
Steadying herself with a hand against the wall, she found the thermostat and had to blink at the number there.
Fifty-five degrees. Perfect spring temperature.
She reached up to turn the temperature dial down—way, way down—and noticed her fingernails.
Light blue.
Pulling her hand off the thermostat, she touched her nails, as if she could wipe the blue off to reveal her usual pink or green instead.
The blue remained and Clarabella lowered her hands as a thought struck her—hadn't Doyle asked about her eyes earlier?
"No," she whispered as she flew through the length of her suite to her bathroom.
She flicked on the lights and stood before the mirror, leaning over the sink to get a better look.
Her eyes were the same arctic shade as her nails.
A whimper escaped her lips as her mouth fell open, panic rising up her throat. But she was springtime here, in this timeline—how could she still be blue? It was impossible!
Closing her mouth, she swallowed hard and lifted shaking hands to pull the bobby pins from her blonde hair, taking it down from its updo strand by strand until it fell in waves around her face.
There, peeking out from behind the blonde, were streaks every bit as blue as they had been when she had ruled the North Pole with Jack.
But no, that wasn't right... it wasn't ruling or living in the North Pole that had turned her blue... it was...
"Jack," she whispered, her voice cracking as she drank in her changed appearance. "Oh, Jack."