At first Patrick was nervous about staying without his guardian and not at preschool (even though it meant spending some time with one of his friends, particularly Tom-Stripy-Scarf). But the boy understood that Jamie had a super-duper urgent task of mending a set of musical instruments, which included wind ones as well as strings, so it had to be done. Anyway, he got used quite quickly, for Tom was very inventive when it came to games. At the moment the kids were digging in a chest full of odd old-fashioned clothes and funny items.
"Look, Pat, Imma ghost!" Tom exclaimed, showing another garment, which was most of all like a square violet knitted towel with a hole in its middle, and shoved his head into it. "Booooooooo!"
"Ha!" Patrick struck a warrior-styled pose as an answer, having found a tam-o'-shanter far too big for him.
The boys went on trying strange clothes on until they found the most curious item in the collection. It was a clock with square wooden base, round face and golden hands and numbers, but it did not have a "door" behind – just two perfectly round holes big enough to push an adult's fingertip through it. In addition a large key wrapped in plastic was attached to it.
"Let's show it to Auntie Sarah," Tom offered.
Sarah, who was finishing writing another article, agreed to tell them about the found item.
"This clock is twice older than me, boys. It belonged to my grandmother."
"Why it has no batteries?" Patrick asked.
"Because batteries were not that widespread then. This key needs to be wound up with this key from time to time."
"Then why don't you wind it?" Tom wondered.
"Some gears inside the clock are not functioning. Hmm… I wanted to get it fixed, but then forgot about it. Thank you for reminding me about them. It's about memories, you know… Do you mind taking a walk? I'll finish the article and we'll go."
"Yay!" the boys shouted in unison, and Tom bounced with joy.
"But first PLEASE place everything you found as it used to be."
"Awwwww!"
For some time of the way Tom and Patrick were entertaining themselves with Tom's favourite outdoor activity: chasing cars which whizzed in the same direction with them. But soon Patrick saw that Sarah was anxious. It was not about the face expression or something – he could sense such feelings, as some kids can.
"Promise me one single thing, you two," Sarah asked. "Do not gape. Would it be pleasant to you if someone gaped at you?"
The boys shook their heads, riddled.
"I know you're well-behaved boys, but still… Here we are."
They stopped in front of a small brick building with a huge sign over the doors, written in letters which used to be golden but turned brown after time.
"B-O-Y-A-R-D an' B-O-Y-A-R-D c… clock-work an' keyworks," Patrick read, moving his finger in the air along the imaginary line under the letters. "Whatssa Bo… Bo-yaaaaard?"
"The finest clock-and keysmiths I know," Sarah replied and pushed the door, the stained-glass pattern onto which depicted an hourglass filled with water instead of sand.
Tom and Patrick had promised not to gape. But they found it extremely difficult, for two strangest human beings were sitting at the tables loaded with gears, glass pieces, clock hands and such-like trinkets. At first Sarah's charges thought that they were boys just like them, but the duo had adult faces, though extremely short limbs and too large heads.
At the sight of Sarah both placed their work at the tables (the one whose hair was a bit longer and curlier and stuck up was polishing a key with beautifully carved top, while the one with the buzz-cut was tinkering with a tiny wristwatch) and widely beamed, but didn't say a word.
"Hello Jack, hello Julian. Are there any urgent tasks which are not to be delayed?" Sarah asked. The two shook their heads. "Great. Can you help me with these?"
She placed the clock in front of the one with the buzz-cut, who opened its back cover and began examining it through a magnifying glass. While he was busy doing it, Tom and Patrick switched their attention to more stained-glass windows present here: one depicted a scroll tied with a red ribbon, another had an oil lamp and a diamond. Then they were attracted by numerous shelves practically obscuring the walls which contained even more bizarre things than the chest in which the boys had been digging some hours before. Most of these were covered in rust, oil, dust and everything in between, which made them look even more mysterious. But all time-measuring devices – from classic to digital – on these shelves were clean and without a speck of dust.
Patrick did not realize that he was almost rubbing his nose against a huge clock with charming number images placed on the lowest shelf (on the level of his head; he had never seen shelves hung at such low height) before two small hands grabbed his middle and gently, but insistently pushed him to the side. This was the one with curlier hair – Jack, yes, Jack. He was barely taller than Patrick or Tom: just about two thirds a height of an ordinary grown-up (the second one, Julian, was even shorter: half an average height). Like a hobbit. A hobbit who nevertheless wore shoes. And he had blue eyes, like Frodo.
Jack quickly climbed an almost invisible ladder at the side of the shelf, gathered some gears from it and brought them to Julian, who nodded and compared them to the worn ones in Sarah's clock. Tom suppressed a laugh: he saw that the small men were dressed in the same fashion, but Jack's shirt was navy blue and pants were white, and Julian's clothes – vice versa: white shirt and blue pants.
"That's reassuring," Sarah nodded when Julian showed her a thumb-up. Then it dawned on boys that both "clocksmiths" haven't said a word all this time. The only words that Tom and Patrick found here apart from the sign were those written on cards scattered where Jack's and Julian's tables were free from mechanical particles. And they were obnoxiously long, so it took the kids almost all time before Sarah finished the seemingly one-sided conversation to read them.
Tom lost his patience as soon as the door closed behind them:
"Auntie Sarah, why are these kids working here?"
"First of all, Tom, Jack and Julian are not kids. They are dwarves."
"Dwarves? Like in Snow White and the Seven Dwarves?" Patrick interfered, for he was eager to learn something new as well.
"Emm… In fairy tales dwarves are magical creatures, and in life such people like Jack and Julian are called this way."
"But why didn't they grow?" Tom asked.
"There are different reasons. But they all are about a fault in their growth. What happens to a tree which does not get enough light and water?"
Patrick nibbled on his fingertip, imagining the described situation.
"The same happened to them. But it was on the inside, not on the outside."
"Ah," Tom said. "And why didn't they speak?"
"Just because it's their choice. They think they do not need to speak. Or maybe they suppose there's too much speaking in the world."
Or maybe it's impossible to read their names, Patrick thought. Sarah must've read his thoughts because her next statement was as follows:
"Their second names are formed from French words, this is why they are so long when written. And besides, they're twins, this is why their parents decided to give them similar names."
"Pas… passa… pass… e-e…" Patrick murmured, brushing the card he had nicked from the workshop table.
"Jack Passe-Partout Boyard and Julian Daniel Passe-Temps Boyard," Sarah pointed out. "This means Jack Pass-Key and Julian Daniel Pass-Time."
Tom and Patrick spent the rest of their way home attempting to think of beautiful names in the same manner for themselves.
"Oh my stars! We've got a little ghost right here!"
Indeed, the blue-eyed ghost with a scoop in one hand and a half-full plastic bag in the other was helplessly standing next to the flour box.
"What? Has the kitten got your tongue, huh?" The tall man in patchwork clothes laughed and ruffled Patrick's hair, having created another flour cloud.
Patrick coughed and stared at his shoes (which avoided being 'whitened').
"I suppose it's okay. Who told you to do that on your own?"
"Hi Mr. Tardis… Jamie," Patrick confessed, placed the scoop and the bag onto the box and rubbed his face half-clean.
"That's what I like about your Jamie. He believes you gotta become self-standing without anybody's help, I mean it… but still I think you need some help here. Mind if I help you, kiddo?"
"Please," Patrick asked.
"Next time you just place it in two…" and here Mr. Tardis's mouth formed first a tiny 'O', then a broad grin. Patrick followed his gaze to learn what made him react like that and was taken aback. At first he thought that it was some kind of an alien with four arms and two heads, but then it was clear that those were two abnormally short persons, one standing on shoulders of the other.
"Whoa, I recognize your ways! Hiya!" Mr. Tardis exclaimed. Jack and Julian – those were no other than them – rewarded him with toothy grins, and Julian bounced down from his brother's shoulders. "My my, the Boyard twins! Haven't seen you in a while!" Mr. Tardis went on, crouched next to them and shook their hands (his huge square palms dwarfed the two even more).
Jack, who was the first to spot Patrick, gave him a hand wave. Meanwhile Julian pulled Mr. Tardis by his collar, craving attention, and when the taller man leaned to him, whispered something into his ear.
"Really? I thought you had everything…" Mr. Tardis shrugged. Julian went on whispering. "Okay, I'll try to. There's anything that can be found in those basements and attics. Up to plutonium."
Julian arched his brows.
"Seriously!" Mr. Tardis approved and jumped up. "See ya two out, fine? No talking right here."
The small men simultaneously showed him thumbs-up and scampered away, working so quickly with their short legs that Patrick thought hardly any ordinary adult could compete with them.
"I could've danced all night and could've begged for more!" David sang, running down the street and closely followed by his twin brother Johnny. "I could've spread my wings and… One, two, Mr. Tardis comes for you!"
"What? Forgot da rest?" Johnny giggled. David stopped jumping down the stairs to Mr. Tardis's basement on his right foot and glared at him:
"Fits more here. One," jump, "two," jump, "Mr. Tardis comes for you… Three," jump, "four," jump, "Gallifrey Falls No More…"
"What?"
David shrugged, and it was gospel truth: he didn't know where he had heard the final line. Nevertheless he still forgot it, having entered Mr. Tardis's workshop, for that was the sight to see. Most of numerous things usually scattered around the floor, hanging on walls and even from the ceiling were bunched in piles in the corners (one such pile almost reached the ceiling), and a great part of freed space was occupied by a giant tower-like construction sliced open, so a web of gears, metal sticks and unclear bright spots inside was seen very well. Mr. Tardis was busy fixing something inside this mechanical monster, while two either too small adults or too odd children had more esthetic things to do: the one in a blue shirt and white pants was carving something out of piece of wood, and the one in a white shirt and blue pants was attaching arrow-like items with lots of curves to a huge round plate.
"No, David, they are not children," Mr. Tardis informed and rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand (having left an oily stripe over it). "Jack and Julian have been preparing this project for ages, so I thought: why can't I help them? Arms and legs are there, head as well…"
"What is it?" Johnny wondered, walking around the mechanism.
"This, Johnny, is a clock. A very special clock. Every time it strikes, it also shows the time. Just like that: you two are going to show two o'clock, mm-hmm…"
"Mr. Tardis, is this gonna be an exx-hibi-tee-on?" David asked.
"Nope. It'll be a competition, and you'd better not disturbed me or them, sorry… cuz if it's not finished by the next morning, there will hardly be anOOF!" Mr. Tardis scrunched his face and stared at his fingers which had got stuck between two sharp edges.
David and Johnny at first stared at him, then at Boyard twins, then at each other.
"Wait here," David expressed the idea which struck them both. "Wait here, don't leave… we're gonna come back in a mo'… 'kay?"
Mr. Tardis, Jack and Julian did not leave and were taken by surprise when a whole crowd blocked the way in and out of the basement. David and Johnny were the first to enter, then Matt and Peter, then Patrick, Billy, Jon, Paul and Ganny, Tom, Colin, Chris, Sylvester, Petey and his cousin Jenny, River, Mels and a boy of about River's age, grey-haired and skinny.
"We all wanna help you," David proclaimed. "Tell us what to do."
Jack dropped the keys he was holding.
Mr. Tardis nervously tugged on his collar:
"David, Johnny, kids, it's pretty nice of you, but, you know… You don't know much clockwork principles and in all… HUH?!" The latest was referred to Julian tugging on the bottom of his shirt. The taller man leaned and listened to what was whispered into his ear. "Are you sure? I understand that's great of them all, but still…" Whisper. Mr. Tardis exhaled until there was seemingly no air in his lungs. "Marvellous. But I – am – not responsible – for – possible…"
"Spoilers?" River interfered.
"Literal spoilers, River." Mr. Tardis took his tool belt off. "Get instruments, all of you. And obey all instructions. Not mine."
"YAAAAAY!" all the kids exclaimed at the same time.
The Boyard twins coped even with teaching without speaking (perhaps they preferred to speak to those who would not laugh with guarantee, and they were not too sure about the children). At first Mr. Tardis divided the kids into two groups – the painters and the carvers, and set River responsible for the first one and the new kid, whose name appeared to be Josh, for the second one. Then Jack and Julian set off to tutoring them.
"You've got warm hands," Matt informed Julian, while he was gently setting the boy's fingers in the most fitting positions of holding the blade and the wood piece. "My mama says dat people with warm hands are never bad."
Julian winked at him and nodded, as if offering him to give it a try. Matt immediately cut his finger, but this didn't make his enthusiasm leak out. At the other side of the table, Peter was panting with tension over the almost ready figurine which was to be painted: he didn't want to spoil all work.
No one except for Mr. Tardis watched the time, so when the group made all the preparations (the Boyard twins' work was polishing, detailing and attaching every single figurine), they were surprised that it was almost night outside.
"Here, everything is done," Mr. Tardis summed up. "Wanna see?"
"Yay!" the kids responded.
Jack set the creation's hands at one o'clock position, and it responded with a blue police box rolling out of small doors below the face. The box's doors opened, and a ginger-haired silhouette poked out and showed a thumb-up. Jack hummed and turned the key once more, this time to set the hands to the two o'clock. This time the clock reacted with two figurines, which would be identical if it were not for the color of their pinstriped suits – brown and blue. They shook each other's hands and showed two "victory" signs, then left. Three o'clock showed three persons with fluffy white hair: a child, a youngster and an adult, all three wearing fancy clothes and with different items: the child with a big red button, the youngling – with a test tube, and the adult – with a tiny clockwork mechanism. Four girls with different hairstyles and clothing (enormous mop of wheat-colored curls, afro-styled and two ginger ones in different attires) pointed out four o'clock. Next were five cricket players led by a blond kid suspiciously similar to Petey. Six kittens, seven couples with umbrellas, eight dancers, nine rockers, ten runners, eleven giraffes and twelve police boxes with different inhabitants inside. And every such group contained a figurine similar to one of the kids present in the room.
The room exploded with hand-clapping. But Mr. Tardis, unlike the Boyard twins, did not respond with joy. Instead he approached to the exit and looked outside.
"No, I am not letting you go home at night," he summed up. "Thank goodness it's Sunday tomorrow. Do you mind spending a night here? I've made sure that it's warm here. Heating system and all."
"But our parents an'…" Chris began.
"Leave it to me."
Indeed, most children were already yawning and rubbing their eyes, and not only them.
"There he is!" Rose exclaimed, pointing at the direction where a long-legged dangling figure with abnormally huge head appeared. But as soon as the group practically boiling with anxiousness and rage approached to Mr. Tardis (and this was him), he stopped and raised his hands in a gesture of peace.
"Your charges are okay," he squeaked. "It was too late, so I decided to take care of them. Come on, I'll show you."
"A crazy hobo who knows how to take care of children! Ridiculous," Donna snapped.
Most of the adults present here (especially Tegan, Petey's sitter) were resisting the temptation to choke this insane person with bare hands, but this would've been very disappointing, so they agreed to make sure the kids were alright. And it was true. Inside the basement stuffed with all kinds of working instruments and materials Mr. Tardis had made a pastiche of a bed out of air mattresses, mats and blankets, large enough for all the children – and two childlike adults – to fit.
The children were sleeping so peacefully that not a single adult – apart, maybe, from Donna and Tegan – dared to wake them up.
"Okay, let them sleep. But return them home safely," Clara stated.
"Guaranteed. And… Sarah," Mr. Tardis took a square wooden item from the table, "I think this is yours. Julian told me he did his best, but advised not to pull the spring too hard, okay?"
Do you know how to make it clear if a person loves you? The one who does will tuck your blanket when you're sleeping. This way this person makes sure you do not get cold. The one who does not love you will never do it.
Matt didn't know who said it. He just heard this voice in his head. Calm and content, and accompanied by hands covered in scratches, splinter tracks and teeny weeny, but prominent scars. These hands set the old, but warm blanket around him in a more comfortable way, and then Matt felt something soft and warm touch his forehead just below the hairline.
"You know, Matt, sometimes even adults need to be kissed goodnight," Mr. Tardis – and this was him, whoever else? – whispered into Matt's hair. But the first speaker wasn't Mr. Tardis.
Feeling that he would not fall asleep until learning who it was, Matt waited until Mr. Tardis's steps faded away and his breathing went even, then opened his left eye (the right one refused to open) and sat up. Johnny on his right was humming something in his sleep, and Peter on his left was curled up in a little ball.
The rest of the kids were fast asleep as well, girls on the separate air mattress. White head, black head, white head – Billy, Patrick, Jon. Curls, straight, curls, straight – Tom, Petey, Colin, Sylvester. Long hair, shorter, shorter, even shorter – Paul, Ganny, Josh, Chris. Two dark spiky heads – David and Johnny. And…
Matt's heart almost bounced out of his chest when his sleep-puffed green eyes met a sly look of blue ones. For half a second Matt and Jack were staring at each other, and then Jack soundlessly made up a 'boo' face: made up a 'whistling' mouth and popped his eyes. Then reached out over Peter and pressed his short chubby finger (which was like all of him: as if an adult version was squashed down) to Matt's lips. The boy responded with beaming through the "obstacle", Jack nodded and rolled over, following the example of Julian, who was almost invisible in the pile of blankets.
After that Matt quickly fell asleep again.
A/N: This time another half-real fandom is introduced - the Fort Boyard TV series. Jack and Julian are no one else than counterparts of Jacques and Jules (aka Passe-Partout and Passe-Temps; the second one is sometimes called 'Deni' (=Daniel) or 'Metronome'), the dwarves who lead the participants around the fort. In the show they do not speak, answering the questions and expressing what is to be done with gestures, this is why they are silent in this version.
Also, the story with the clock refers to H.C. Anderson's tale The Most Incredible Thing, and Josh is supposed to be the counterpart of the War Doctor (John Hurt - JH - Josh, for there are lots of Johns).