Time Flies
Author's Note: Bernard has to deal with the wrath of a lady. Poor elf. Also, we get to meet the second of the four children of Time. Fortunately, this one is a little less violent.
Disclaimer: The characters from the two movies belong to Disney. Any and all original characters are mine. Oh, and Panara Bread belongs to the Panara Bread chain of stores.
Chapter 2 – What Child Is This?
Bernard leaned back, away from Ebony and her glare. "I'm Bernard," he told her, trying to smile disarmingly.
He failed. Ebony was unamused. "Yes, you mentioned that. Why were you pretending to be my date?"
"I wasn't!" Bernard objected indignantly. "You didn't let me get a word in edgewise till just now! I thought you knew who I was, or something!"
"Really?" Ebony's glare faded as she considered this. She laughed suddenly. "Wow, I guess I did kind of drag you here." Her eyes narrowed again in suspicion. "So why were you at my house in the first place?"
"Well – "
"Hello, sir, ma'am." A young man approached the table, holding a notepad and smiling pleasantly. "My name's Josh, and I'll be your server for tonight. Can I get you anything to drink?"
Ebony looked down at her menu. "Coffee. Decaf."
"Just water," Bernard said. Asking for cocoa rarely went without comment in the human world. And besides, nothing here could come close to matching Judy's recipe.
"All right." Josh nodded at both of them. "I'll be back with your drinks in just a minute." He left.
Ebony looked back at Bernard. "Let's try that again," she told him. "Without the interruption."
Fortunately, Bernard had already planned what he was going to say. He couldn't exactly jump into the "you're Father Time's daughter" speech, after all. "Have you ever met your father?"
That startled Ebony, all right. "My father? You mean my biological father? He sent you? Where is he? Who is he?" Then she fell back against her seat, the eagerness going out of her eyes as the frosty look returned. "Why hasn't he contacted me before this?"
"He wasn't aware he had a daughter," Bernard said, mixing some truth in with the lie. "He only just learned about you, and he sent me to find you the day he found out."
"Hmm." Ebony eyed him appraisingly. "You never did get around to mentioning exactly who you are. Why'd he send you?"
"I… I work for a colleague of his," Bernard said carefully. "He wasn't able to come himself, or he certainly would have."
"Busy." Ebony's mouth twisted bitterly.
"Well, yes," Bernard admitted. "But he's also rather old. Very old, in fact. He doesn't travel well."
"So who – "
"Hello, again." It was Josh, the waiter. "I'm back." He placed their drinks in front of them. "Now, have you decided what you want to order?"
Ebony blinked. She shook her head a little, as if to clear it of the conversation. "No – no, we haven't."
Josh nodded agreeably. "I'll come back in a few minutes, then."
Ebony sat in contemplative silence for a few moments after Josh left. Bernard debated continuing the conversation from where it had been interrupted, but the girl's body language did not look open to intrusion. Eventually, his patience paid off. She looked up.
"How do I know my father really sent you?"
"Um." Bernard frowned. This was one question he hadn't been prepared for. If she'd been asking about Father Time specifically, that he could have dealt with. Just remove his hat to display his ears, show her a little bit of tame magic, and problem solved. But in terms of the human world? He had nothing.
"Well?" Ebony prompted impatiently. "Do you expect me to just swallow this without any proof whatsoever?"
"I guess not." Bernard came to a decision. He'd have to tell her the whole thing. Otherwise, he just didn't have any proof at all. But… he couldn't tell her here. They were right in the view of all those other people. And that waiter kept popping up. "But I didn't really think to bring any proof with me."
"Didn't you." She raised a sardonic eyebrow, her voice a statement rather than the question the words implied.
"Well, I didn't exactly expect to be brought out to a restaurant," Bernard pointed out huffily. And distractingly. All right, so it didn't really have anything to do with whether or not he had proof. She didn't have to know that.
Ebony made a face. "That's actually a good point. Damn, I hate it when other people are right." She went back to studying him. Bernard tried his best to look honest and sincere. "Could you get some proof by tomorrow?"
"Possibly," Bernard said warily. "Why?"
"I need time to think about all this," Ebony told him. "Anyway, for all I know you're some crazy serial killer. You look way too innocent to be for real."
Bernard frowned, uncertain how to react to that. She continued without giving him a chance. "There's a bakery shop a couple blocks east of my house – Panara Bread, it's called. I'll meet you there at seven tomorrow morning. Unless," and there was a hint of a challenge in her voice, "that's too early for you."
"Seven's fine," Bernard said immediately, responding to the tone rather than the words. Then he mentally winced. That meant he'd have to wake up early, didn't it?
"Excellent. I'll see you then." Ebony looked up as Josh approached the table again. "Bill, please."
The waiter blinked. "You don't want to order?"
"Thanks, no. This date isn't working out at all the way I expected." Ebony smiled sweetly. "I couldn't get your number, could I?"
Bernard stiffened. "You and I are not – "
"That's ok, that's ok," Josh interrupted hurriedly. "Sorry, ma'am, but I'm not interested. Er – I mean, I don't really date customers. I'll just bring you your bill, shall I?"
As he half ran from the table, Ebony laughed. Bernard stared at her incredulously. "I suppose you think that's funny?"
"Immensely," she said, more cheerful than he'd seen her yet. "Pity he didn't agree. I could've had lots of fun with that."
Bernard tried to look disapproving, but he had to admit it was rather amusing when a different waiter returned carrying their bill. Bernard paid for his glass of water with some of the human money Scott had arranged for him to have, rather proud that he'd managed to figure out how to use it believably. Ebony, however, was unimpressed, and simply got up and walked out without a word. As was expected, Bernard followed.
Ebony stopped at her car. "So, Panara Bread at seven tomorrow?" she asked again.
Bernard nodded. "Sure."
"Do you need a ride back to your house?" Ebony wanted to know.
"Actually, I can get there from here," Bernard lied quickly. Well… technically it wasn't a lie. After all, he could teleport from just about anywhere.
"Really." Ebony shrugged. "All right, then. Learn something new every day, I suppose." She tilted her head at him. "Considering that this wasn't a real date, I hope you aren't expecting a goodnight kiss."
That caught Bernard off-guard, something Ebony seemed to excel in. "What? No, of course not!" He turned red at the thought.
Which was apparently her intention. She laughed again. "See you tomorrow, then, Bernard."
"See you," he echoed. He stood in the parking lot, watching as she drove out of sight, before transporting himself back to the guestroom of the Millers' house.
"So how'd it go?"
Bernard jumped. What was it with this family and startling him? He looked around to see that Charlie was sitting on the bed. "It went ok."
"Just ok?" Charlie frowned. "What happened?"
Bernard considered explaining all the events to Santa's son, but the thought of telling anyone about them gave him a headache. "I don't want to talk about it," he said at last. "I have to see her tomorrow, and I need a break from thinking about it."
"Tomorrow?" Charlie asked, brightening. "Can I come? You said I could meet her," he reminded the elf, when he didn't receive instant agreement.
"I said that?" Bernard frowned. "I did, didn't I? Ok, then. You can help me convince her I'm not a raving lunatic." He paused, recalling the last time he'd agreed to let Charlie come somewhere. "But ask your mother first."
"Why do we have to be there so early?"
"If you're going to whine about it, you can go back to bed," Bernard snapped. "You think I like going places at this ungodly hour?"
Charlie slouched against the wall, stifling a yawn. "Yes."
"What are you talking about?" Neil asked, looking up from his newspaper. "It isn't early – it's only quarter to seven!"
"On a Saturday," Charlie pointed out. "Normal people are asleep."
"Yes, well, considering this family…" Laura had entered the kitchen just in time to catch her son's last remark. "You weren't going to leave without saying goodbye to your mother, were you, Charlie?"
"No, Mom." Charlie gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Can we go now?"
"As long as you're careful," Laura said, smiling indulgently. "And wear a jacket. It's cold outside."
Charlie grumbled a little at this, but went to the hall to grab a jacket. He nodded at Bernard. "Can we go now?"
Bernard glared. "You sound like a three-year-old."
"You're grouchy, Bernard." Lucy skipped down the stairs. "How come?"
"Because Bernard is not a morning person." Neil came in and scooped Lucy up. "Come on, out of the way. You don't want Bernard to teleport you, too."
Charlie waved. "Bye, Lucy. Bye, Neil." Then he looked at Bernard impatiently. "Now can we – "
Bernard transported the pair of them to the parking lot outside the bakery shop.
" – go?" Charlie blinked. "That was fast."
"The aim of teleporting." Bernard strode around the building, towards the entrance. Silently he cursed Ebony for choosing this time of day, and himself for agreeing, and Father Time for creating the early morning hours in the first place.
He entered the shop, Charlie close on his heels. According to the sign, the place had just opened, and was relatively deserted. There were perhaps two other people there, not counting employees. Not seeing Ebony, Bernard headed over to an empty booth in a far corner, out of sight from the other patrons.
"She isn't here?" Charlie asked in disappointment, scanning the shop as though Ebony might just appear out of nowhere.
"No." Bernard resisted the urge to lay his head on the table and go to sleep. Who knew what had been spilt on that surface? "She won't be here till exactly seven."
"Oh." Charlie frowned. "How do you know that?"
"Because she's Father Time's daughter." Bernard checked his watch. She had five minutes. He debated ordering food, but then realized that would involve things like standing, walking, and speaking. He opted for scowling at the tabletop.
"Can you tell how close she is?" The scowl did nothing to deter Charlie, who was used to being grumbled at. He'd dealt with Bernard's early morning alter ego on several of his visits to the North Pole.
Bernard lifted his compass from its chain around his neck. "She is – " He stopped, examining the compass closely. "Hmm."
"'Hmm?'" Charlie repeated, leaning forward to peer at the compass. "What do you mean, 'hmm?'"
"Another child has entered the city," Bernard told him absently, studying the compass. "With any luck, I can sort this girl out now and then go on to deal with Dimitri. At this rate, I might be back home in less than a week."
There was a cheery chiming sound as the door opened. Bernard stood up. Yes, that was Ebony, all right. There was no mistaking that green hair. He wondered why in the world she'd dyed it such an absurd color in the first place.
She spotted him almost immediately, but instead of coming to his booth, Ebony went to pester the employee behind the counter. Bernard sighed, listening to her demand a bagel that was apparently only available during summer.
He started to tuck the compass back inside his shirt, but then the chime sounded again.
A chill went down Bernard's back. Somehow, out of all the millions of people who could have entered that shop at that moment, he just knew who it was going to be. He looked at the compass in his hand, verified the direction of the arrow, and slowly stood again.
A young man with pale brown hair stood in the doorway, looking rather puzzled, as though he wasn't entirely sure why he'd come in. That was possible, Bernard mused. The compass just attracted the children. It didn't offer any rational explanation to them.
Bernard stepped out of the booth and headed for the man. "Dimitri Terryn?" he asked.
The man looked at the elf with deep blue eyes that had an echo of eternity in them, just as Father Time's did. "Do I know you?"
"No," Bernard replied bluntly. "But I know you. I'm Bernard, and your father sent me to find you."
"What, another one? How many people do you run this speech on a day?" Ebony had come up behind him, holding a cup of some coffee-like concoction and a bagel. She did not look happy. "You really are a serial killer, aren't you?"
"No!" Bernard rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I only say things like this when they're true. Ebony, meet your brother, Dimitri Terryn. Dimitri, this is your sister, Ebony Hiems."
"How do you know my name?" Dimitri demanded, drawing back slightly as he plainly considered turning right around and bolting back through the door he'd just entered.
"Must I say it again?" Bernard glared. It was early, and his patience was running out. "Fine. Let's go sit, and I'll give you an explanation in detail. It's far too early to stand here and shout at one another."
"Explanation first," Ebony said stubbornly. "Then I'll go somewhere with you. Maybe."
"You are impossible!" Bernard shouted, losing his temper.
All he got was a dirty look from the girl behind the counter. Ebony was immovable.
"Bernard?" Hearing the elf yell, Charlie emerged from the booth. "Is something wrong?"
Ebony stared at the teenager in open disgust. "And this is my other brother, I suppose?"
"I don't think so," Charlie said, frowning. "I'm Charlie Calvin. You're… um… Bianca?"
"Ebony." She eyed Charlie crossly. "Have you got an explanation for me?"
"Well… Bernard could explain better than me," Charlie replied. "Why don't you go sit and listen?"
"Because he's a serial killer," Ebony said promptly.
"I'm not," Bernard began irritably.
"If he wanted to kill you, why did he agree to meet you in a public place like this?" Charlie interrupted reasonably. "We really are just here to talk to you about your father."
"My father?" Dimitri seemed intrigued by this. "My biological father? Do you know him?"
"We've met," Charlie admitted. "He's a sort of colleague of my father."
"The one Bernard here works for?" Ebony was distressingly quick at picking things up.
"Yep." Charlie smiled at her. Bernard scowled. That boy was entirely too charming. It shouldn't be allowed at this hour of the morning.
Ebony looked at him consideringly. "And how did you know who I am? Or who this other guy is?"
"We – your father and mine, that is – have access to some really good sources," Charlie said. Bernard had to give the boy credit for that – it was an explanation in every sense of the word, except the one where it actually explained things.
Unfortunately, Dimitri caught this. "What kind of good sources?" he wanted to know. His eyes grew dark with suspicion. "Is this legal?"
"Yes!" Bernard snapped indignantly.
Charlie laughed. "Usually. Look, you don't have to be scared of us. We just want to talk, all right?"
"I'm not scared!" Ebony said sharply.
"Oh, aren't you?" Bernard snorted, earning a glare from Ebony and a kick in the ankle from Charlie.
"Just ignore Bernard," Charlie advised, to the elf's extreme displeasure. "He gets grouchy in the morning."
Ebony laughed. This seemed to overcome the last of her resistance – or at least, her resistance to sitting. The four of them went back to the table Bernard and Charlie had claimed, to the obvious relief of the girl behind the counter.
"So, explanation." Ebony appeared to have quite the one-track mind. "I don't care who gives it, as long as I get one."
"Yes, I'd really like to know what's going on," Dimitri added. "At least you know more than I do about all this. Why in the world do they think we're related?"
"I don't know." Ebony turned to Charlie expectantly.
Charlie only shrugged. "Bernard?"
Bernard sighed. Just tell them, and you'll be back at the North Pole all the sooner, he reminded himself. "All right. You're brother and sister, and – "
"Prove it," Ebony interrupted belligerently. "You said you'd bring proof. So where is it?"
Bernard scowled. "I'm getting there. Anyway. Your father recently learned that he has four children – yes, four, you have another sister and brother out there somewhere – and I got stuck trying to track you down. I did get some information on you before I left home, which is how I was able to recognize you."
"How did you know I'd come in here, though?" Dimitri asked doubtfully. "I could have gone into any bread shop in the city."
"That was either coincidence, destiny, or magic," Bernard said carefully. "Take your pick. Where was I?"
"What information do you have on us?" Ebony asked suspiciously. "And how did you get hold of it?"
"Charlie's father has information on most people," Bernard said vaguely. "And it's nothing spectacular. I know your full names, your mother's name, where you were born, and who your foster parents or adoptive parents were. And how to locate you, of course."
Dimitri drummed his fingers on the table thoughtfully. "Tell me my mother's name," he suggested at last. "Birth mother and adoptive mother."
"Umm…" Bernard reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. "Your birth mother was Gaia Mnemes. You, Dimitri, were adopted by James and Victoria Scott. Ebony, you've had a string of foster parents, but the last pair was Tony and Catherine Parker." He looked up. "Satisfied?"
"No. Why don't we have the same last name?" Ebony demanded.
"Or at least the last name Mnemes?" Dimitri added. "I've always wondered about that."
"Your mother specified surnames for each of you," Bernard replied. "I expect she was trying to make you easier for your father to locate. She probably didn't realize he had no idea that the four of you existed."
"Four…" Dimitri said musingly. "That's right. What about these other two siblings you say we have? Who are they?"
"Bianca Sheiling and Sherwin Lennor. You'll be introduced once I've tracked them down, too," Bernard told them. "Are you quite convinced yet?"
"I… think I rather have to be," Dimitri said reluctantly. "I really can't think of any other way you could have not only found all this information on me, but also recognized me immediately."
"There's still something you've left out," Ebony said, when the three males turned to look at her. "Exactly who is this father you keep going on about? Is he famous or something? You act like you don't dare mention him. Why not?"
"Because this is the part you probably won't believe," Bernard said with a sigh. "Your father is Father Time."
There was a brief period of silence, which stretched into a much longer period of silence. Finally, Dimitri spoke.
"I don't think I misheard you," he said meditatively, "but I'm going to ask this anyway. Did you say 'Father Time?'"
"Yes."
"As in the mythological personage?"
"Yes."
Dimitri's eyebrows knit together in thought. After another pause, he asked, "And you expect me to believe this?"
"Not really," Bernard said resignedly.
"Then can we have the truth, please?" Ebony asked acidly. "If it's not too much trouble, of course."
"That was the truth," Bernard said with a scowl, trying not to shout at her again. Once was more than enough times to lose his temper in an hour. "I just don't expect you to believe it."
Ebony stared across the table at the two boys. "You're mad," she said flatly, standing up.
"But I can prove it," Bernard said hurriedly.
Ebony looked down her nose at him, which was especially effective now that she was standing and he was sitting. "No. You can fake it. There's a difference. I have things to do and places to be. Waste your time on someone else."
"Wait!" Bernard scrambled out of the booth as Ebony marched out of the shop. Unfortunately, by the time he got to the door, she was already in her car, screeching out of the parking lot. He scowled. "Damn."
"Well, you have to admit, it is kind of a shock," Charlie pointed out reasonably when Bernard returned to the booth and slumped into his seat. "Remember what my dad was like?"
"Your father?" Dimitri asked, raising an eyebrow. "The Sandman, I suppose."
"No, I don't think he's married," Charlie said seriously. "My father is Santa Clause."
Dimitri studied Charlie for a moment. Then he looked at Bernard, then back to Charlie. "You think you're telling the truth, don't you?" he said wonderingly.
"We are," Bernard said simply.
Dimitri considered this. "I don't believe you," he decided.
"Well, of course you don't," Charlie replied with a smile. "You've been raised human, right? But we really do have proof."
"Proof that your father is Santa Clause?" Skeptical was an understatement of Dimitri's tone.
"It's more proof that Santa Clause exists, actually," Bernard corrected. "Or proof that magic exists, at least. After that, you'll have to take the rest on faith."
"If you can convince me about the magic part, I'll believe anything you say," Dimitri said with a tolerant smile.
"Good." Bernard smiled back. Now that he'd been awake for a while, he was starting to feel more like himself. And honestly, he rather liked Dimitri. "So are you ready to go?"
Dimitri blinked. "Go where?"
Bernard's smile broadened. This might actually – dare he think it? – be fun. He didn't often get a chance to show off his magic. "To follow your sister, of course." He checked to make sure no one else in the shop could see them.
Dimitri frowned. "But how – "
Bernard cast a transport spell to take them to Ebony's front hall.
" – will we get…" Dimitri trailed off, looking around in disbelief. "How did you do that?"
Bernard smirked. "Magic."
"Magic," Dimitri repeated faintly. "That's right, you said you were going to prove it. So where are we?"
"Ebony's house," Bernard told him.
Charlie frowned. "She's not going to be happy about this."
Bernard rolled his eyes. "I don't think she's ever happy."
True to this statement, the angry squeal of overworked tires came from the driveway. The three males waited in silence as they heard Ebony approach and unlock the door. And open it. And see them.
Her mouth dropped open. For once, she did not appear to have anything to say.
Bernard waved innocently at her. "Surprise."
Author's Note: Wow, Bernard ended up really grouchy in this chapter. I did want him to be a little touchy, it being early morning and all, but this was a bit more than that. Ah, well. Every hero needs his tragic flaw. Or something like that, anyway.
Zhai'helleva!
- Mystica