A/N- Thank you my wonderful reviewers! Those of you who asked for a
barricade boy after the first two, sorry you missed it. I still love you,
though.
Jules14 - sorry, what? I /know/ I'm a loony. That much I tell you with my screen name and my username. But watch out pal . . . I've been madly insanely in love with Bernard for a year now . . . beware my obsessiveness!
La Pamplemousse- Thank you, as always, for reviewing! Sorry you didn't get to be insane, obsessive, or hypochondriacical. (Now /that/ is making up a word). I, too, am obsessive (quite obviously) unless someone wakes me up in the middle of the night insisting that they are having hallucinations. At that point I might be rather quiet, kind of like you were in the fic. Thus, your non-insanity.
CosetteLover - What on EARTH makes you think I won't finish a fic that's got both my obsessions in it? You know me better than that, hon.
Sweet775 - We shall see. I've thought of a place for you, but I'm not so sure if it will work.
Anyway . . . on with the fic! And Bernard!
Disclaimer - I own . . . none. Till later.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Javert caught up with the elf in just as he was turning a corner. "Look, I am NOT Santa Claus! I-" Javert began.
They had entered a huge room full of working elves. Javert could not help but gasp.
"You put on the suit, right?" the elf asked.
Javert nodded, dumbfounded at the enormity of the room.
"Didja read the card?" Javert nodded again.
Bernard continued, obviously unaware of how incredible it was to render Javert speechless.
"So, in putting on the hat and jacket you accepted the contract." He handed Javert a large cookie. "Here."
"What contract?" Javert asked angrily, taking the cookie.
"The card in the Santa suit, you said you read it, right?"
Another nod.
"So when you put on the suit you fell subject to the Santa Clause."
Bernard turned away.
"Wait a minute! You mean Santa Claus, the person?"
"No," Bernard sighed, "I mean Santa Clause, the clause."
"What?"
"Look, you're a business man, right?"
"No."
"Um . . . do you ever have paperwork?"
"Oh, of course."
"A clause," Bernard said slowly, "as in the last line of a contract."
Javert stared blankly.
"Do you have the card?"
Javert located the card in his large, red pants pocket and handed it to Bernard, who held it under a conveniently placed magnifying glass.
Suddenly Javert saw that the annoying red border was actually made up of tiny red words. Bernard began to recite them, and Javert read along.
"In putting on the suit and entering the sleigh the wearer waives any and all rights to any previous identity, real or implied, and fully accepts the duties and responsibilities of Santa Claus, in perpetuity, until such time that wearer becomes unable to do so by either accident or design."
Javert blinked. "Well, what does that mean?"
"It means you put on the suit, you're the big guy!"
Ignoring the elf's obvious annoyance, Javert protested. "That's ridiculous, I-"
Bernard whirled around. "TRY to understand this, okay?" he shouted.
All of the elves in the room heard. "Oooooooh!"
Javert glared at them.
Bernard grabbed Javert's shoulder and began to walk with him. "Somebody has to deliver the toys. I'm not going to do it. It's not my job. I'm just an elf who's going to marry a crazy teenager in North Carolina. I . . ." he blinked. "What did I just say?"
There was a crash of thunder and a voice echoed throughout the room. "I AM ERIN, THE CRAZY NORTH CAROLINIAN TEACHER! HA! I CONTROL YOU! I AM THE AUTHOR!"
Bernard blinked.
"CONTINUE!"
"Um . . . I'm not going to do it, I'm justanelf." He paused.
No thunder. No voice.
"Okay! That's Santa's job, but Santa fell off the roof. Your roof. You read the card, you put on the suit, that clearly falls under the Santa Clause, so now you're Santa, okay?"
"Listen, I just want to go back to Paris."
Gavroche came running up. "M'sieur, you've got to see this place!"
"You have a year to get your affairs in order, then you're due back here Thanksgiving," Bernard continued.
"Due back here what?"
"Um . . . in November."
"I don't want to come back here in November!"
"I'll ship the list to your house," Bernard said stiffly.
"What list?"
"You know . . . the list . . ."
Javert raised his eyebrows.
Bernard, obviously embarrassed or apprehensive, leaned in and sang quietly, "He's making a list . . . "
"Checking it twice!" Gavroche sang loudly.
"GONNA FIND OUT WHO'S NAUGHTY OR NICE!" The line echoed around the factory as every elf joined in.
Bernard groaned. "You put a 'P' next to the kids who are nice and a 'C' next to the naughty ones."
"'P' and 'C'?"
"Yeah," chimed Gavroche. "'P' for presents and 'C' for coal, right Bernard?"
"Right!" Bernard said. Again he turned to leave.
"What if I don't want to do this?"
Bernard whirled around, his eyes wide. "Don't even kid about a thing like that!"
"Why not? What if I don't want to become Santa? What if I choose not to believe it?"
Javert hadn't even realized that his voice had been rising. The last question came out almost as a shout. Suddenly all of the sounds of laughter and toy-making from the elves stopped.
Javert looked around nervously. They were all watching him, eyes as wide as Bernard's. He smiled uncomfortably.
"Then," began Bernard, "there would be millions of disappointed kids around the world." He paused, as if waiting for this to sink in. "You see, children hold the spirit of Christmas within their hearts. You wouldn't want to be responsible for killing the spirit of Christmas, now would you? Santa?"
The noises of the factory resumed. Without even giving him a chance to respond, Bernard turned for the last time to leave. He made his way down a flight of stairs, saying, "Judy will take you to your room, get out of the suit; it needs to be cleaned."
Javert pulled at the waist of the pants he wore, watching them extend far enough for the entire Patron-Minette to fit inside with him. "And taken in!" he called to Bernard.
"Then," Bernard continued, "get some sleep. We've got a lot of work to do and only a year in which to do it."
And then Bernard was gone, swallowed by the crowd of busy elves.
A thin whistle sounded to Javert's right, and he turned in time to see what was either the smallest train or the largest toy he had ever beheld in his life. A pretty young elf with long dark hair and a pointed hat rode perched atop one of the cars.
"Judy?" Javert asked.
"Santa?" she replied.
"Javert, inspector, first class."
She smiled submissively. "Follow me."
Gavroche had climbed onto another car. The little train whistled again and began to move.
"I think I'll just catch the next train," Javert muttered.
"Come on, m'sieur!" Gavroche cried.
"Gavroche!" Javert yelled, as if noticing the boy for the first time.
He walked after the train, which stopped in front of a large set of doors. An elf wearing a red robe pulled open a smaller door set into the larger one for Judy and Gavroche to enter. Javert, not really paying attention, attempted to follow before the door-elf could open the larger Santa-sized door, resulting in a painful knock to the head.
When all three were safely inside the room, Javert took a moment to survey his surroundings.
A tiny toy train ran in a wide circle across the floor and beneath a bed shaped rather like a sleigh. In the corner, two puppets performed, shouting to each other in annoying voices.
Gavroche leapt onto the bed and began to make himself comfortable.
Judy smiled at Javert. "Here are your pajamas." She handed him something red and silky. "Would you like something? The kitchen's always open."
Javert massaged his forehead. "How about a stiff drink?"
Judy laughed. "I'll get you some hot cocoa."
She left. Javert held up the pajamas he had handed her. They were long pants and a shirt with embroidery on the breast pocket. Javert changed clothes, listening to the annoying puppets.
A moment later Judy returned with a silver tray and a mug of hot chocolate. "Santa?"
"Inspector Javert!" he corrected her.
Ignoring him, Judy offered him the drink.
"No thanks," Javert replied.
"It's my own secret recipe. Took me twelve hundred years to get it right."
"Twelve hundred years?" Javert asked dubiously.
"That's right."
Curious, Javert tried some of the cocoa. It was wonderful, but he wasn't about to admit it. He simply nodded and drank the rest. Luckily, Judy understood.
Javert walked slowly over to a window overlooking the rest of the North Pole.
"You seem distressed," Judy observed.
"I am beyond distressed! I mean, I never believed in Père Noël!"
Judy sighed. "Most adults can't believe in Santa. They just sort of . . . grow out of it."
"Listen," Javert said, a sneer creeping into his voice, "you're a nice little elf."
"Thanks," Judy said seriously.
"But this is a dream! Look, is that a polar bear down there?" Judy nodded. "I see it," Javert explained, "but I don't believe it."
Judy smiled and shook her head. "You're missing the point. Seeing isn't believing. Believing is seeing. Children don't have to see this place to know it's here. They just . . . know."
Javert glanced at the bed, where little Gavroche had fallen asleep fully clothed.
"Good night, Santa," Judy said on her way out.
Since the gamin had taken the bed, Javert walked over to a large desk, sat in the chair, and propped his feet up on the desktop.
He looked around the workshop, shook his head, and finally fell asleep.
Jules14 - sorry, what? I /know/ I'm a loony. That much I tell you with my screen name and my username. But watch out pal . . . I've been madly insanely in love with Bernard for a year now . . . beware my obsessiveness!
La Pamplemousse- Thank you, as always, for reviewing! Sorry you didn't get to be insane, obsessive, or hypochondriacical. (Now /that/ is making up a word). I, too, am obsessive (quite obviously) unless someone wakes me up in the middle of the night insisting that they are having hallucinations. At that point I might be rather quiet, kind of like you were in the fic. Thus, your non-insanity.
CosetteLover - What on EARTH makes you think I won't finish a fic that's got both my obsessions in it? You know me better than that, hon.
Sweet775 - We shall see. I've thought of a place for you, but I'm not so sure if it will work.
Anyway . . . on with the fic! And Bernard!
Disclaimer - I own . . . none. Till later.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Javert caught up with the elf in just as he was turning a corner. "Look, I am NOT Santa Claus! I-" Javert began.
They had entered a huge room full of working elves. Javert could not help but gasp.
"You put on the suit, right?" the elf asked.
Javert nodded, dumbfounded at the enormity of the room.
"Didja read the card?" Javert nodded again.
Bernard continued, obviously unaware of how incredible it was to render Javert speechless.
"So, in putting on the hat and jacket you accepted the contract." He handed Javert a large cookie. "Here."
"What contract?" Javert asked angrily, taking the cookie.
"The card in the Santa suit, you said you read it, right?"
Another nod.
"So when you put on the suit you fell subject to the Santa Clause."
Bernard turned away.
"Wait a minute! You mean Santa Claus, the person?"
"No," Bernard sighed, "I mean Santa Clause, the clause."
"What?"
"Look, you're a business man, right?"
"No."
"Um . . . do you ever have paperwork?"
"Oh, of course."
"A clause," Bernard said slowly, "as in the last line of a contract."
Javert stared blankly.
"Do you have the card?"
Javert located the card in his large, red pants pocket and handed it to Bernard, who held it under a conveniently placed magnifying glass.
Suddenly Javert saw that the annoying red border was actually made up of tiny red words. Bernard began to recite them, and Javert read along.
"In putting on the suit and entering the sleigh the wearer waives any and all rights to any previous identity, real or implied, and fully accepts the duties and responsibilities of Santa Claus, in perpetuity, until such time that wearer becomes unable to do so by either accident or design."
Javert blinked. "Well, what does that mean?"
"It means you put on the suit, you're the big guy!"
Ignoring the elf's obvious annoyance, Javert protested. "That's ridiculous, I-"
Bernard whirled around. "TRY to understand this, okay?" he shouted.
All of the elves in the room heard. "Oooooooh!"
Javert glared at them.
Bernard grabbed Javert's shoulder and began to walk with him. "Somebody has to deliver the toys. I'm not going to do it. It's not my job. I'm just an elf who's going to marry a crazy teenager in North Carolina. I . . ." he blinked. "What did I just say?"
There was a crash of thunder and a voice echoed throughout the room. "I AM ERIN, THE CRAZY NORTH CAROLINIAN TEACHER! HA! I CONTROL YOU! I AM THE AUTHOR!"
Bernard blinked.
"CONTINUE!"
"Um . . . I'm not going to do it, I'm justanelf." He paused.
No thunder. No voice.
"Okay! That's Santa's job, but Santa fell off the roof. Your roof. You read the card, you put on the suit, that clearly falls under the Santa Clause, so now you're Santa, okay?"
"Listen, I just want to go back to Paris."
Gavroche came running up. "M'sieur, you've got to see this place!"
"You have a year to get your affairs in order, then you're due back here Thanksgiving," Bernard continued.
"Due back here what?"
"Um . . . in November."
"I don't want to come back here in November!"
"I'll ship the list to your house," Bernard said stiffly.
"What list?"
"You know . . . the list . . ."
Javert raised his eyebrows.
Bernard, obviously embarrassed or apprehensive, leaned in and sang quietly, "He's making a list . . . "
"Checking it twice!" Gavroche sang loudly.
"GONNA FIND OUT WHO'S NAUGHTY OR NICE!" The line echoed around the factory as every elf joined in.
Bernard groaned. "You put a 'P' next to the kids who are nice and a 'C' next to the naughty ones."
"'P' and 'C'?"
"Yeah," chimed Gavroche. "'P' for presents and 'C' for coal, right Bernard?"
"Right!" Bernard said. Again he turned to leave.
"What if I don't want to do this?"
Bernard whirled around, his eyes wide. "Don't even kid about a thing like that!"
"Why not? What if I don't want to become Santa? What if I choose not to believe it?"
Javert hadn't even realized that his voice had been rising. The last question came out almost as a shout. Suddenly all of the sounds of laughter and toy-making from the elves stopped.
Javert looked around nervously. They were all watching him, eyes as wide as Bernard's. He smiled uncomfortably.
"Then," began Bernard, "there would be millions of disappointed kids around the world." He paused, as if waiting for this to sink in. "You see, children hold the spirit of Christmas within their hearts. You wouldn't want to be responsible for killing the spirit of Christmas, now would you? Santa?"
The noises of the factory resumed. Without even giving him a chance to respond, Bernard turned for the last time to leave. He made his way down a flight of stairs, saying, "Judy will take you to your room, get out of the suit; it needs to be cleaned."
Javert pulled at the waist of the pants he wore, watching them extend far enough for the entire Patron-Minette to fit inside with him. "And taken in!" he called to Bernard.
"Then," Bernard continued, "get some sleep. We've got a lot of work to do and only a year in which to do it."
And then Bernard was gone, swallowed by the crowd of busy elves.
A thin whistle sounded to Javert's right, and he turned in time to see what was either the smallest train or the largest toy he had ever beheld in his life. A pretty young elf with long dark hair and a pointed hat rode perched atop one of the cars.
"Judy?" Javert asked.
"Santa?" she replied.
"Javert, inspector, first class."
She smiled submissively. "Follow me."
Gavroche had climbed onto another car. The little train whistled again and began to move.
"I think I'll just catch the next train," Javert muttered.
"Come on, m'sieur!" Gavroche cried.
"Gavroche!" Javert yelled, as if noticing the boy for the first time.
He walked after the train, which stopped in front of a large set of doors. An elf wearing a red robe pulled open a smaller door set into the larger one for Judy and Gavroche to enter. Javert, not really paying attention, attempted to follow before the door-elf could open the larger Santa-sized door, resulting in a painful knock to the head.
When all three were safely inside the room, Javert took a moment to survey his surroundings.
A tiny toy train ran in a wide circle across the floor and beneath a bed shaped rather like a sleigh. In the corner, two puppets performed, shouting to each other in annoying voices.
Gavroche leapt onto the bed and began to make himself comfortable.
Judy smiled at Javert. "Here are your pajamas." She handed him something red and silky. "Would you like something? The kitchen's always open."
Javert massaged his forehead. "How about a stiff drink?"
Judy laughed. "I'll get you some hot cocoa."
She left. Javert held up the pajamas he had handed her. They were long pants and a shirt with embroidery on the breast pocket. Javert changed clothes, listening to the annoying puppets.
A moment later Judy returned with a silver tray and a mug of hot chocolate. "Santa?"
"Inspector Javert!" he corrected her.
Ignoring him, Judy offered him the drink.
"No thanks," Javert replied.
"It's my own secret recipe. Took me twelve hundred years to get it right."
"Twelve hundred years?" Javert asked dubiously.
"That's right."
Curious, Javert tried some of the cocoa. It was wonderful, but he wasn't about to admit it. He simply nodded and drank the rest. Luckily, Judy understood.
Javert walked slowly over to a window overlooking the rest of the North Pole.
"You seem distressed," Judy observed.
"I am beyond distressed! I mean, I never believed in Père Noël!"
Judy sighed. "Most adults can't believe in Santa. They just sort of . . . grow out of it."
"Listen," Javert said, a sneer creeping into his voice, "you're a nice little elf."
"Thanks," Judy said seriously.
"But this is a dream! Look, is that a polar bear down there?" Judy nodded. "I see it," Javert explained, "but I don't believe it."
Judy smiled and shook her head. "You're missing the point. Seeing isn't believing. Believing is seeing. Children don't have to see this place to know it's here. They just . . . know."
Javert glanced at the bed, where little Gavroche had fallen asleep fully clothed.
"Good night, Santa," Judy said on her way out.
Since the gamin had taken the bed, Javert walked over to a large desk, sat in the chair, and propped his feet up on the desktop.
He looked around the workshop, shook his head, and finally fell asleep.