Time Flies
Author's Note: Hi! Me again. Now Bernard gets the pleasure of being shouted at again, and Ebony gets to see some magic. Dimitri and Ebony get their long-awaited explanation.
Also, I've discovered a difficulty in the way I've set this up, so here's an explanation so things will make sense from now on. In this story, New York is a happy place that lets people off school Thanksgiving weekend beginning with Wednesday and ending Monday. So Bernard meets Ebony on Tuesday night, two days before Thanksgiving. The events in chapters two and three happen Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving. Just continue with that timeline.
Disclaimer: I own Ebony Hiems, Dimitri Terryn, Sherwin Lennor, and Bianca Sheiling. A couple of random ideas about magic and belief belong to Terry Pratchett. Everything else belongs to Disney.
Thank you everyone who reviewed! Individual stuff is at the end.
Chapter 3 – Tell Me If You CanEbony's eyes went from Bernard – to Charlie – to Dimitri – and back to Bernard.
"You," she said ominously, picking the elf as the ringleader of the group of intruders.
As she began to advance on him, an expression of growing anger on her face, it occurred to Bernard that perhaps teleporting everyone here had not been the most thought-out of plans. "I can explain," he said quickly, backing away. The door slammed shut as Ebony moved out of the doorway and began to corner Bernard against the wall, which did not bode well. "It's like I said, Father Time sent me – "
"Like hell he did!" Ebony cut him off furiously. "How did you get in here? This is breaking and entering! Not to mention the other charges I'm bringing against you – try harassment, sexual harassment – "
"I never did!" Bernard cried heatedly.
"You impersonated my date in a deliberate and malicious attempt to stalk me," Ebony continued relentlessly. "Oh, stalking, that's another good one. And slander, of course. And don't think you'll be able to talk your way out of it, either. I am going to take you to court, and I am damn well going to see you convicted!"
"Not to interrupt your rant or anything," Dimitri spoke up as Ebony paused for breath, " but I just wanted to see if you were aware that there are three of us, and only one of you."
"And now you're threatening me?" Ebony did not appear daunted. "You're only digging yourself in deeper, pal. Besides, none of you are the type to hurt an innocent and defenseless lady."
Charlie had some problems stifling his snort of laughter. When Ebony glared viciously at him, he coughed weakly and unconvincingly. "Uh – something caught in my throat?"
"I really don't think you quite understand what's going on here." Bernard tried to get Ebony to see reason. If that was at all possible with someone currently trapping him in a corner and raging about things that… well, all right, things that he'd technically done, but really, all in her best interests… except for that sexual harassment charge, Bernard had no idea where she'd come up with that…
"I understand perfectly!" Ebony stormed. "You have enlisted two otherwise innocent young men to break into my house and try to convince me of your mad delusions of myths and fantasies!"
"But – "
"You have made fraudulent and frankly despicable attempts to use my past as an orphan against me for twisted purposes of your own that I don't even want to know about!"
"I didn't – "
"You used illegal methods to get information on me that you couldn't have gotten in any other way!"
"I – " Bernard stopped his protest. This was clearly not working. Time for a new approach.
He teleported across the room and sat down in a chair, watching her reaction.
"You – what the hell?" Ebony spun around. "How did you do that?"
Bernard smiled smugly. "Magic."
Apparently not willing to accept this, Ebony peered around the room, determined to find hidden special effects machines. "You used mirrors, didn't you?" she demanded. "I read an article about that when I went to see The Phantom of the Opera. It's all done by mirrors."
"I haven't got any mirrors," Bernard pointed out logically.
Unfortunately, logic was lost on Ebony. "There's a mirror right behind you!" she snapped, pointing at the wall. There was, indeed, a mirror there. Presumably it belonged to Ebony, though at this point Bernard wouldn't be surprised to learn it didn't.
"And what do you think I did with this mirror to make myself move from one part of the room to another?" Bernard asked. "I suppose I'm not really here at all – only a reflection of me?"
"Stop encouraging her," Charlie said, giving Bernard a dirty look. "You'll only upset her even more. This isn't an easy thing to accept."
"And I suppose you'd know all about it?" Ebony snapped. "Rigging the special effects for him, are you?"
"No," Charlie said patiently. "Please, Ebony, try to think reasonably for a minute."
"I am perfectly reasonable!" Ebony's eyes blazed threateningly as she spun towards the teenager.
"Right, sure, fine," Charlie said hastily. "Never said you weren't. I just want you to think about this with an open mind."
Ebony glared at him suspiciously. "If I have an open mind, you might convince me that I'm wrong."
"You are," Bernard said bluntly.
"I'm not!" Ebony retorted. "There's no such thing as magic. If there's magic in the world, how come I don't know about it already?"
Bernard rolled his eyes. "Ever heard of the Salem witch trials?"
"I did go to school, you know!" Ebony said indignantly.
"Well, that's why you don't know about it," Bernard told her. "Besides, do you have any idea how hard it would be for us to do our jobs with humans pestering us every two minutes for some spell or other?"
Ebony eyed him for a moment, and Bernard assumed she was considering this. However, her mind appeared to have found something more interesting to think about. "You can do other spells than jumping around?"
"You believe me?" This was unexpected. Bernard wondered what had happened to convince her.
"I want to see you try magic," Ebony replied, taking a seat directly opposite Bernard. She leaned back, folding her arms challengingly. "So what else do you think you can do?"
"I don't just think, I know," Bernard said, irked. "I can teleport, but you've seen that. I'm also good at telepathy, but it's rude to try that without permission. I suppose I could try telekinetics. It's not really my specialty, but I'm not bad at it."
"Making things move?" Ebony thought about this, then shook her head. "Too easy to rig."
"In the thirty seconds we were here before you came?" Bernard asked incredulously. "You've got to be joking."
"You could have come earlier," Ebony said haughtily. "I mean, you've just proved you can break in perfectly easily. You could have got in while I was asleep at night and fixed wires to things." Having rekindled her own suspicions, Ebony glanced at her possessions in distrust.
"And these wires – they'd be invisible, would they?" Bernard shook his head. "No, never mind. What do you expect me to do, then? Empathy can't be demonstrated, and I'm no good at reading the past or the future."
"Do something else, then," Ebony commanded.
Bernard stared at her. "I can't. That's it. There aren't any other forms of magic." This wasn't strictly true, since different races had different abilities, but those six were the only forms of magic elves could do.
"No fireballs? No force fields? No mass destruction?" Ebony sounded almost disappointed.
"No!" Bernard scowled. "What do you take me for? Look, if you want a demonstration, it's one of those forms. Otherwise I'll teleport you halfway across the world and leave you there to decide how real that is!"
His outburst did not appear to faze Ebony, possibly because she made so many outbursts herself that she was used to them. "Ok," she decided. "You can read my mind."
Bernard blinked. "What?"
"You said it was all right if I gave you permission. So tell me what I'm thinking right now." Ebony stared fixedly into the air above his head, apparently concentrating on something or other.
Bernard hesitated. It really was considered bad manners, verging on being actually forbidden, to read a mind without the person's consent. And permission or not, Ebony really didn't know what she was saying. For one thing, she wasn't a telepath, so she wouldn't have any shields. He could read any part of her mind, not just the part she wanted him to see. Not that he'd do so deliberately – he did have some moral standards, thank you very much – but he might not be able to avoid seeing some of it.
Ebony's gaze snapped back to the elf. "Well?" she demanded. "Or are you a lying serial killer after all?"
Bernard's eyes narrowed. If she'd expected any privacy, she shouldn't have given him permission to read her mind in the first place. He Reached for her mind with his.
:: …how long I can string them along. I can't remember the last time I was so amused. This is better entertainment than cable – and it's free. Just like – hey! What's he doing, staring at me like that? He'd better not be checking me out. Wow, he looks kinda angry. Why – oh, I was supposed to think about stuff for him, wasn't I? Eh, what does it matter, he can't really read my mind anyway – ::
"Oh, can't I?" Bernard interrupted her train of thought, withdrawing his mind with a snap. "Why did you ask me to try reading your mind, if you're so convinced I can't? And furthermore, get it through your unnaturally colored head that I have no interest in 'checking you out,' as you so charmingly put it, so you can just pop that inflated ego of yours! Understand?"
Ebony's eyes were wide. "You did it," she breathed in – was that awe? Yes, it was. She was in awe of him. "You actually read my mind."
"I told you I would," Bernard said, now seriously angry. "Are you quite through doubting, or would you like more of a show? Amusing, am I? Free entertainment? I'll give you free entertainment, you ungrateful little spawn of Time! How would you like to be stranded in Russia? The questions from the government would sure be entertaining – from my point of view!"
"Bernard!" It was only when Charlie grabbed the elf's arm that Bernard realized this was the third time the teenager had tried to get his attention.
"What?"
Charlie looked into Bernard's eyes firmly. "Calm. Down." When he was convinced the elf wouldn't fly into another rage without added provocation, he released Bernard's arm. "Look – you've upset her again."
"She's upset me!" Bernard snarled. "Entertainment! Did you hear her?"
"No," Charlie said, his patience starting to sound forced. "This would be because she was thinking it. Unlike you, I can't read minds."
"Oh." Bernard blinked. "Well, she thinks we're here solely for her amusement. She has been deliberately making things difficult for us, for no reason whatever."
"Can I say something?" Ebony asked, getting over her shock at the long rant she'd been subjected to.
"No!"
Charlie ignored Bernard. "Yes. But I'd really rather you didn't try to make this harder than it has to be."
"I won't," Ebony assured him. "I just wanted to say that I still think that disbelieving you was completely justifiable. And I admit I did try to cause you problems – which I won't apologize for." She glared defiantly at Bernard, who glowered right back at her. "I cause problems for everyone. If I stopped just because people don't like it, I'd never get anything done."
"I don't suppose you could stop for a while?" Charlie asked hopefully. "You saw that Bernard really did read your mind – give us a chance to explain it."
"Ok."
Bernard gaped at her. "That's it? Ok? After everything you've put me through to convince you – ok?"
"What, you wanted a refusal?" Ebony shrugged. "Ok is what you get." She gestured to the other chairs. "Sit down, if you like."
Dimitri, who had been watching from the hallway while trying to stay as uninvolved as possible, entered the room and chose to sit on the couch beside Ebony. Bernard didn't envy him the position. Realizing that at some point during his tirade he'd gotten up, he sat back down, facing the two children of Time. Charlie sat to their left, on the front of the elevated brick fireplace.
"So magic does exist," Dimitri said thoughtfully, once they were all settled.
"You bet it does," Bernard replied. "It comes from either birth or belief. You have birth magic, coming from your heritage as Father Time's children."
"I always thought Father Time was just a myth," Ebony said suspiciously.
"He is," Bernard said. "Who says myths can't be real? Most myths are. Charlie is the son of Santa Clause."
Ebony turned to peer at Charlie in disbelief. "You're kidding."
"Nope." Charlie smiled brightly. "Honest to goodness. Dad took me up to the North Pole when I was little, and Mom called the police to get him arrested for kidnapping."
"You know, I think I remember reading about that in the papers," Dimitri said, frowning. "They were all making a big fuss because this man thought he was Santa Clause and made his son believe they were going to the North Pole. That was you?"
Charlie nodded. "Mom and Neil – my step dad – reacted pretty much the same way you two did. They thought Dad was a lunatic."
"Wait a second." Ebony's eyebrows knit together in a frown. "Your dad is Santa Clause, right? So why didn't he tell your mom when he married her in the first place?"
"He wasn't Santa then," Bernard explained. "Look, Santa's magic is based on children's belief in Christmas. He's not magical in himself, but he gets magical powers as the physical manifestation of the spirit of Christmas. However, Santa is still mortal, so he can still die. Once a person becomes Santa, he usually stays for around seventy to one hundred years, barring accidents."
"So the former Santa died and Charlie's father became the new Santa." Dimitri paused in thought. "But how did you find him? Or did you just pick someone at random?"
"The old Santa fell off Dad's roof," Charlie told them. "Dad found the sleigh, put on the suit and delivered the toys, and when the reindeer took him back to the North Pole, Bernard said that Dad had to be the new Santa."
Ebony smirked. "So what you're saying is, your dad offed the old guy to get the job."
"No!" Bernard glared at her. "Don't say that about Santa!"
"Well, anyway, we can give you my background later," Charlie interrupted, cutting off the argument. "Your magic isn't based on belief, so this isn't really important. Right, Bernard?"
"Right." Bernard decided to look at Dimitri, since Ebony was too upsetting to pay attention to. "Father Time has the other kinds of magic. He was born with the ability to control Time. He isn't immortal, but he's very old – nearly as old as Time itself. Since his magic is a part of him, it passes on to his descendants – the four of you."
Bernard stopped talking for a moment to give them a chance to absorb this. Finally, Dimitri said, "So, supposing we really do have magic, why don't we know about it?"
"Right now, your magic is hidden in your subconscious," Bernard explained. "You're half magical, but you're also half human. That tends not to work out too well – the human half can't accept the magical half. However, the magic is still there, affecting the world around you."
"So I could subconsciously stop time if I wanted to?" Ebony sounded a little too pleased with that idea.
"Don't joke about that!" Bernard snapped. "You could, and it would be a disaster! That's why I had to take time away from my work to come find you. You've already started changing Time in little ways, and you have to be stopped from doing anything worse."
"Stopped how?" Dimitri asked guardedly. "That sounds a little too like killing us for the good of humanity."
"Nothing that bad," Bernard assured him. "Once I've found your brother and sister, I'll take you to meet your father. Then you get to decide whether you want to become entirely human or entirely magical. If you want to be human, you'll be like Charlie – you'd get visiting privileges, and you'd be able to see and talk to any of the other magical people you meet. Other than that, your life would play out normally, with the usual human lifespan."
"What if we want to be magical?" Ebony prompted, when he paused.
"I was getting to that." Bernard scowled at her. "If you choose to become magical, there are positions in the Workings of Time that you can fill. Right now, the Moments – Father Time's assistants – do these things, but it's really a big job for them. Each season is meant to have a supervisor. I guess those of you who want to stay would pick a season and take control of it. Your magic would surface then, of course, so your father would train you, and you'd have a much longer lifespan."
"How long do we have to think this over?" Dimitri wanted to know.
"A while yet," Bernard told him. "I still have to find Bianca and Sherwin. Then, after you've met Father Time and spent some time with him in the Workings of Time, you'll make a decision."
"How are you going to find those other two?" Ebony asked. "For that matter, how'd you find us?" She looked at him suspiciously.
Before she could come up with another crazy theory like the mirror idea, Bernard said, "I have a magical compass. It tells me how to find each of you once you enter New York. It also produces a force drawing you towards it."
"That's what made me go into that bread shop," Dimitri said in realization.
"Exactly." Bernard nodded, pleased at how well they understood so far. "The power drawing your siblings should be stronger, as long as you're close to the compass."
"I want to see this compass," Ebony said.
"What, do you think I'm making it up?" Bernard shook his head. "Don't answer that. All right." He took the chain from around his neck and handed it over. "Don't break it."
"I don't break things," Ebony said absently, studying the device. "It's got my name on it. And a little button." Before Bernard could say anything, she pressed the button beside her name. Her name glowed silver, and the arrow in the center spun to point at her. She laughed delightedly. "Hey, this is great! I want one."
"There aren't any others. Your father had this one made specially," Bernard told her, staring at her in astonishment. He hadn't expected her to be so elated at a simple magical tool. Apparently, he'd misjudged her at some point.
"Oh. Ah, well." Ebony passed it back without any argument. "Can I have it once you've found the other two?"
"I don't see why not," Bernard said, shrugging. "I won't want it."
"Getting back on topic, may I ask a question?" Dimitri regained their attention. "We've established that Ebony and I are the children of Father Time. Also, Charlie here is Santa Clause's son. I think I understand all that. What I don't understand is why Santa Clause sent someone to find us instead of Father Time."
"Didn't I say?" Bernard frowned. "I guess I didn't. Well, Father Time only has the Moments under his command. The Moments are little fairies – fine at dealing with Time, but not so good at interacting with the human world. But Santa Clause does have workers who can move in this world, if need be."
Dimitri looked blank. However, an expression of fiendish glee had started to grow on Ebony's face. "You aren't human, are you?" she said, grinning wickedly. "You're an elf."
"An elf." Dimitri gazed intently at Bernard. "Is she right?"
"Yes," Bernard admitted, much as he disliked granting her the victory of guessing correctly.
"You know, I never wondered why you kept that hat covering your ears." Dimitri laughed. "I should have picked up on that. After all, you did say you work for Santa Clause."
"Well, I – hey!" Bernard snatched at his hat, but it was in vain. Ebony had already removed it. She studied his ears with the same delight she'd displayed over the compass.
"They're pointy!"
"Of course they're pointy," Bernard snapped irritably. "They're elf ears. My ears, to be more specific. As in, attached to my head. And I do not appreciate you gawking at them."
"But they're cute!" Ebony said, sounding like she was about fifteen years younger. "Can I touch one?"
"No!" Bernard jerked away from the madwoman. Why in the world would she want to touch his ears? Maybe she'd been warped by her half-magical heritage. The alternatives didn't bear thinking about.
"Ok, then." Ebony shrugged philosophically and returned to her seat.
"So anyway," Dimitri said, giving his sister an odd glance, "now what happens? We just stick with you and your compass until our other siblings show up?"
"But I have things to do," Ebony objected. "I'm not hanging around waiting who knows how long for these two people to show up."
"It won't be that long," Bernard told her. "Two weeks at the most."
"Two weeks?"
"That's right," Bernard snapped. "Two weeks. And since I have to be here with you instead of at the North Pole where I'm supposed to be, you can just shut up and deal with it."
"Oh, come on, I'm sure Santa has millions of elves," Ebony said dismissively.
"He doesn't, you know," Charlie told her. "This close to Christmas, it might be near a thousand, but it's usually less. There are lots of elves living at the North Pole, but they don't all work for Santa. Most of them just live there, like ordinary people."
"We are ordinary people," Bernard protested. "Well… except for the magic part. And the living for thousands of years part. But other than that!"
"Thousands of…" Dimitri trailed off, peering at Bernard. "You are that old, aren't you? I can… sort of tell… by looking at you."
Ebony followed suit, examining Bernard in a way that made him feel like a broken toy under the magnifying glass. "I can, too," she said, surprised. "You're two thousand, one hundred, and fifty-four, aren't you?"
"Um." Bernard thought for a second. "I think so."
"You think so?" Ebony raised an eyebrow. "Don't you know?"
"No, as a matter of fact, I don't," Bernard said defensively. "After the first few centuries, you start losing track."
"Well, you've aged well," Dimitri said, preventing the conversation from escalating into something nastier. "You don't look two thousand."
"Humans and elves age differently," Bernard said shortly.
"Well." Ebony stood up. "All aging aside, I still have places to go. Your compass will just have to do with only one of us."
"Where exactly do you plan to go?" Bernard wanted to know, standing so that they were on an equal level.
"A museum," she told him condescendingly. "For my art history class on the Renaissance. The professor said that Thanksgiving weekend it may be, but he still wanted us to visit a museum."
"Can't you wait a few days?" Bernard asked, trying not to beg. "The longer you stay near this compass, the quicker it will all be over."
Ebony shrugged. "That's your problem, not mine. I'm going to the Metropolitan museum. You can do what you like."
"We could go with you," Charlie suggested hopefully. "I like the museum."
"Well, I don't really have anything else to do," Dimitri said, standing so he didn't have to look up at the other two. "If you want us to stick together, we can do that just as well at the museum as here." He paused. "However, I do have one request."
Bernard sighed in resignation. "What?"
Dimitri looked slightly awkward. "Can we go back to that bread shop? My car's still there."
"Aren't you done yet?" Charlie slumped on a bench in one of the many – far too many – galleries Ebony had dragged them into. "We've seen thousands of paintings."
Ebony paid no attention to him, studying the paintings with interest.
"Bernard?" Seeing that Ebony couldn't care less, Charlie switched the object of his pleas. "Are we done? We've been here all morning."
"Hmm?" Bernard looked up. Like Charlie, he'd actually seemed to like visiting the museum at first. Unlike Charlie, he'd continued to like it after they'd been there for hours. "You said you'd stay if Ebony wanted to."
"But it's boring," Charlie complained. Some of the other museum patrons shot him dirty looks.
Dimitri laid a hand on Charlie's shoulder. "You shouldn't say that," he whispered. "Or at least, not so loudly."
"It isn't boring," Bernard said, frowning. "I thought you liked art."
"Teenage boys might like art in small doses," Dimitri said, "but you have to admit, this is a lot for him."
"That's because you haven't been paying proper attention to the paintings," Ebony told him firmly. "Look at this one here." Ignoring Charlie's protests, she grabbed his hand and marched him over to one of the paintings. "Isn't it interesting?"
Charlie gave in and looked at the painting dutifully. A Hunt in the Forest, it was called. He thought it looked rather dull – just a bunch of guys prancing around on horses. "It's… very nice," he told Ebony. "But… it's not that good, is it? Kind of like a cartoon?"
Ebony gave him a withering look. "This is one of the early works on perspective, this is," she told him, irritated. "Can't you at least try to see beyond the Saturday morning aspect?"
"Um." Charlie stared at it a moment more. "It's very green."
"Green?" Bernard had come up behind them, and he was staring at Charlie in incredulity. "You can't say anything about this painting but green?"
"You should hear what he said about it earlier," Ebony said ominously. "A cartoon, he called it. A cartoon – about a painting by the man who first used perspective in art!"
Bernard frowned. "What, Uccello?" He shook his head. "No, Uccello wasn't the first, that was Masaccio."
"Ruskin said it was Uccello," Ebony insisted.
"Well, he was deluded," Bernard said positively. "It was Masaccio. I remember."
Charlie sighed, taking advantage of this to escape back to the bench where Dimitri was. "I thought they didn't like each other," he grumbled.
Dimitri laughed. "That was until Ebony realized that he lived through all the art periods she's studying. Now I think she views him as a talking history book."
"That she can have screaming matches with," Charlie added, as Bernard shouted something about Uccello being a daft old lunatic who'd preferred to mess about with perspective than spend time with his wife. Ebony's reply was extremely rude, and not at all fair to poor Masaccio.
It was at that point that one of the security guards came to make very pointed remarks about how some people like to experience art in peace and quiet. Ebony did not take well to this suggestion.
Ten minutes later, they were on the street outside the museum.
"I can't believe you got kicked out of the art museum," Charlie said, trying not to grin. It was a lost cause.
"We didn't get kicked out," Bernard told him. "We just… chose to leave at a time when we were no longer wanted."
Ebony sniffed. "This is entirely your fault," she said to Bernard.
"My fault?" He gaped at her. "You're the one with the delusions about Uccello and perspective!"
"You're the one who called me a liar," Ebony said haughtily.
"No, I said you had wrong information," Bernard said. "It's different."
"Look," Dimitri interrupted soothingly, "both artists are dead now, anyway. Does it really matter either way?"
"Yes!" Bernard and Ebony glared at him.
"Fine." Dimitri sighed and shrugged. "Go ahead and argue, then. I won't stop you."
As they headed for the two cars – Ebony's and Dimitri's – Dimitri whispered to Charlie, "So, do you think Santa and Father Time will get together and ground them for getting kicked out of a museum?"
Ebony and Bernard looked up suspiciously at the sound of laughter, but they decided it couldn't possibly be as interesting as dead artists. They went back to their current argument.
Author's Note: Hope I didn't lose anyone's interest with the art history. I'm trying to develop a connection between Bernard and Ebony, and art seems to be the way to go about it. And if anyone cares at all, the first person to use perspective was in fact Masaccio. Sorry, Ebony.
For those of you interested in the picture Bernard and Ebony were arguing about, it is A Hunt in the Forest by Paolo Uccello. Here's a link if you want to look at it:
Thank you, everyone who reviewed this!
CrystalHorse72 – I like Dimitri, too, but I have to say I like Ebony better. Dimitri might be a better person in general, but Ebony's more fun to write. Though I agree – neither comes close to Bernard. ^_^
The Book Worm – Thank you! I like this fic, too, and I don't plan to drop it. I'm also working on the next DOY part. It's shorter, so it might be done sooner.
Kitty the drunken butterfly – Ooh, thanks for the quote! I may have to add that in somehow. The title actually has a double meaning. You'll find out exactly what later.
Crescent Dreamweaver – Yay! Another Mercedes Lackey fan! I'm used to people not knowing what I'm talking about when I sign off with "zhai'helleva." Oh, and who says this isn't going to be a romantic fic?
Zhai'helleva!
- Mystica