Disclaimer: If I were ruler of the world, I would own David Krumholtz (JK!) and would not be broke and hungry. The Santa Clause copyrighted by Disney and Bernard is copyrighted by the Awesome Curly Hair Foundation….a.k.a. David.

Here's the second post of the day! Only one more chapter to go! Merry Christmas in July, I guess…even though that's two months away. Here's Curtis' part.

***Curtis***

It was a victory. No doubt about it. A sweet chocolate chip-flavored, cocoa-smelling victory. WE won and the Fake Santa and his men ate dust…snow dust, that is.

Curtis looked around him at the other in pride and happiness. Santa was tying up the Rubber Santa after their sleigh crashed; many of the bigger elves were tossing the tin pieces of the soldiers into a giant bin, while the younger and smaller elves gather little bits like screws and gears and tossed them in. All in all, everyone worked together to take down the horrible villain, even if it was he and Bernard that cr-wait! Bernard! Where did he run off to?

Curtis glanced over to the bigger elves but didn't see him. He looked over to where Santa was lifting Fake Santa off the ground, expecting the Number One elf to be brown-nosing the man, but didn't see him. In fact, he didn't see Bernard anywhere. He felt a strange feeling sliding up through his multiple internal organs and stopping at his esophagus. It was the same feeling he felt when he saw the soldiers dragging Bernard away: fear.

He shuffled through a crowd of elves and ran over to Santa. He stopped in front of the man and held up his hand, waiting until he could control his breathing.

"Curtis, what is it?" Santa sighed, knowing that this conversation may delay his departure, "Curtis?"

Curtis looked up at the man finally and quickly pushed away his overpowering fear into a more controlled and stable concern.

"I don't know where Bernard is." Santa lightly chuckled.

"As much as you guys fight, I know you've got each others' backs." Curtis looked down at his feet. "Look, Curtis, he's probably just helping clean up. Knowing him, he probably already has an organized clean up plan assigned to everyone." He laughed again. Curtis looked up; his fear was still sitting in the back of his throat.

"Sir, if I may ask, please help me find him. He was beaten up pretty badly by the guards and I'm not sure how bad off he is…please?" Santa looked down at him and then back to the tied up Santa. He looked back at Curtis and sighed.

"All right, let's go find Bernard and then, get rid of Mr. Plastic. We've got Christmas to save!" Santa started walking off and Curtis couldn't help but thanking Mother Nature for such an amazing boss.

They turned around the corner of a building and almost ran into a group of little ones. Santa smiled as they reenacted their defeat over what seemed to be a pair of soldiers.

"But yous should have seen it! He hit him right in the neck and his head fell right off! And I went after it and scored one for us!" The two boys laughed along with the little girl as she pretended to kick around an invisible head. Curtis looked over at her and couldn't help but smile, as well.

"But then when I went back, he was playing "asleep." I tried to wake him up but he wouldn't wake up and the bad guy was lying right on top of him. I guess they were both tired. And I wouldn't blame him! Being Head Elf must be hard work!" The boys joined the girl in reenacting one of their fighting scenes. But Santa had already heard.

He walked over to the group and asked them where they were fighting the soldiers. All three fingers pointed over by a kiosk, where a pile of tin remains laid. He ran jogged over to the area with a slightly confused and out-of-breath Curtis on his heels.

"Santa…where are we running to?" They both stopped and Santa started searching under the big pieces of the soldiers. There were three sets of soldier parts and two of them were mostly still connected.

"Curtis, give me a hand over here!" Santa called as he grabbed the back part of a torso. Curtis skipped over to him and grabbed the pair of legs connected. They both lifted up the carcass and tossed it to the side. Underneath, however, was a dark green beret and a piece of gold-detailed maroon fabric.

"Bernard!" Curtis started pushing the other body to the side, but it wasn't until Santa helped him that it actually moved. Bernard was still and pale. He had the old bruises and laceration on the left side of his face but there was a new, steady flow of blood dripping down the right side of his face from his temple. His right sleeve was torn in places and his arm stuck out at a weird angle. He was still. Curtis knew the fear was awake again. He was still…

"Bernard? Bernard, can you hear me?" Santa had moved Bernard into a sitting position and was listening to his heartbeat and breathing. Curtis could only sit there, staring at the discarded beret.

"Curtis, he's still breathing alright. I think his shoulder might be dislocated, but I'm not sure. We have to get him to the infirmary! Curtis!" Curtis sharply looked up at Santa, still processing all of the information. He nodded his head and stood up.

Santa gathered Bernard into his arms and lifted the smaller man up. He looked around and started walking in the direction of the infirmary. Curtis started hurrying after him, stopped, ran back and grabbed the beret before he continued to chase after Santa and his unconscious friend. Bernard…was still…his best friend. He tightened his grip on the decorated beret and quickened his pace, knowing his best friend would be okay. They had gotten through everything together before; this time wouldn't be any different.