"Santa's coming back." Curtis's face was flushed, and he struggled to regain his breath. He adjusted his glasses, which had gone askew in his rush.
"What? Why?" Bernard asked, alarmed. "He left just the other day!"
"Apparently Buddy has come down with something, and they're returning to the Pole until he recovers." The Number Two elf informed him, looking past him at Beck, who was hanging behind in the doorway to the kitchen, listening. She leaned against the wall, curious.
"It's not serious, is it?" His superior inquired.
"I don't think so. But who really wants to travel with a sick, fussy toddler?"
Bernard nodded in agreement. "Ever wonder why we never bring you on trips?"
Curtis glared at him over his spectacles and changed the subject. "So what prompted you to leave work at four? You never clock out that early." He raised an eyebrow.
"My responsibilities can't always coincide." Bernard replied tensely. He lowered his voice. "I had a bit of a situation." He jerked his head towards his charge behind him.
"I can hear you." Beck mumbled, annoyed. She crossed her arms in front of her.
Bernard sighed, exasperated. "Don't be a nuisance, Beck." He warned without turning around.
"But I thought I was a situation."
He ignored her.
"Well, hey, you know, if juggling your numerous commitments is too taxing, I could always take some of the work off of your shoulders!" Curtis suggested slyly.
Bernard gave him an arch look. "Come to think of it, the kitchen employees are a little understaffed today. Those ovens won't clean themselves." He watched his beta's crushed reaction with amusement.
Curtis was crestfallen; he was hoping for a nice managerial position (or really anything that allowed him to tell people what to do). This was not what he had had in mind. His shoulders slumped. He opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it. "Anyway. Santa should be back in a day or two, since he's making a stop to see Laura and the kids."
"I'll make sure things are ready for his return." Bernard told him. His mind was already at work – there was a lot to prepare if Santa was coming back ahead of schedule. I'll have to notify the kitchen staff so that they can adjust their work, have his office cleaned and the conference table taken out of there. I also have to remember to let the physician know… He realized that Curtis was still there.
"Is that all?"
"Yeah, I just-"
"Okay then, here's a gold star," Bernard cut him off sarcastically, rolling his eyes and steering him toward the door. "Take it easy, will ya? Go home, Curtis. Take a coffee break or something."
"But I don't drink-" The door was shut firmly behind him, silencing the rest of his sentence.
Bernard gave a long-suffering sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes.
"What a little sty." Beck grumbled from her spot across the room, pulling her jacket off.
"Yes, but unfortunately he's my sty." He looked up at her with a wry smile, lacing his fingers behind his head. It was a startlingly boyish action, and Beck had to force herself to stifle the flashbacks and swallow the nostalgia.
"So," She started, stepping forward and launching herself over the back of the couch, sinking into the cushions. "What kind of blue-collar torture am 1 being sentenced to?"
"I didn't realize that you had such an interest in securing a position." Bernard pulled the pantry open. "I thought you already had such a successful career as the Devil."
Beck idly played with the tassels on a decorative pillow. "Well, I just thought I should pass the time somehow, just until I can get back to a fulfilling existence of inflicting eternal suffering and misery."
"I didn't realize you had stopped."
Beck sat up and rested her chin on the back of the couch, watching him silently. He was assembling a few things into a pot on the stove. "What are you making?" Beck adjusted the bandage on her hand, which had come loose in their latest struggle. He either didn't hear her, or pretended not to.
A few minutes later, the food was ready. Beck rolled off of the couch, grunting as she did so. She joined him in the kitchen, and peered into the pot of Ramen.
"You really do eat like a lonely college student," She snorted as Bernard served himself.
"I'm Head Elf, not Head Chef. And no one's forcing you to eat." But Beck had already tucked into her meal with gusto. She stood with her elbows resting on the island, one leg crossing the other at the ankle. Bernard took up residence leaning against the far counter top. For a few minutes, the only present sound was that of utensils clinking against bowls.
Bernard was curious about something. He cleared his throat. "What exactly did you do while you were, uh…" Exiled. "In the human world?"
Beck set her bowl down. "Other than sleep around, you mean?" She joked, smirking, but he thought he saw something else behind her expression.
"That's not exactly what I meant." Beck felt like Bernard was staring right through her with those big brown eyes.
She was annoyed that he would ask. She hoisted herself up and sat on the counter. "Well, why do you want to know anyway?" This was dangerous territory.
"I just wondered what you've been up to for - oh, I don't know - the past century."
"Why do you care?" Beck shot back.
"It just struck me as odd that you moved around as much as you did, that's all." He seemed taken aback by her defensiveness.
Beck gave what she hoped looked like a noncommittal shrug. Her mind raced for an excuse. "It's just…" She frantically wracked her brain for something to say. "If I stayed too long, people would notice that I wasn't aging. I might not be the most dedicated elf, but I'm not stupid." A relieved breath exited her lungs with a whoosh. "Plus, it's easier not to have to worry about attachments. Less messy." Okay, so at least it's not a total lie.
The arch elf seemed to believe it. He looked at her calculatingly out of the corner of his eye as he carried his bowl to the sink. Beck followed suit, hoping he wouldn't decide to revisit their conversation. He leaned over the sink, preparing to wash the bowls. Beck slid next to him, her back to the counter. She casually glanced over her shoulder at his face and carefully gauged his expression.
"What?" He stopped washing the dishes in the sink and turned his face towards her. She could feel his breath on her cheek.
"I wish you would stop trying to figure me out." Her tone was playful, but she looked at him darkly.
"Who says I'm trying to 'figure you out?'" He asked, amused. Beck's pulse quickened. He knows. He has to. Her mind raced with paranoia. His upper arm brushed against hers and she shrank back at the contact. Bernard stared down at his hands.
"I think I'm going to call it a night." The red head murmured.
"But it's only seven-thirty."
"I'm tired," She added hurriedly.
Bernard dried his hands on a towel. "Alright, I guess I'll walk you there."
Beck was peeved. "I'm not a child. Believe it or not, I know where my apartment is."
Her boss simply plucked a set of keys from the counter and dangled them in front of her. "Oh, yeah? Good luck getting in without me."
She grumbled and left the room to collect her jacket.
"So when do I graduate to my very own set of keys?" Beck asked dryly as they approached her door.
"That depends on a few things." Bernard unlocked the door. "Goodni-"
But the door had already been firmly shut in his face.
Beck listened for the customary clicks on the other side of the door, leaning against the wood and holding her breath. She dragged herself into her apartment and fumbled around in the dark for a moment, until she found the light switch.
"Hello, Beck."
Beck's hair stood on end. She had never forgotten that unnaturally calm voice. She tossed her coat onto the back of the sofa and kept her expression guarded.
"Eris."
"Really, Beck. Almost a century, and your manners haven't improved a single iota." The petite blonde sat on the very edge of the arm chair, slender legs crossed. Her tiny hands were folded demurely in her lap.
Beck pursed her lips. She leaned over a table and turned another lamp on. "Alright. Good evening, Eris, Goddess of Chaos. Might I offer you a beverage? Or perhaps inquire as to what the actual fuck you are doing in my chair?"
"Might I inquire as to your whereabouts for the past several decades?" Eris's round blue eyes bore straight into her skull. "You've certainly not been communicating with the Order in any capacity. Am I to believe that you have simply been too busy running about in ugly grey sweaters to remember us? Truly, I am offended." She smiled sweetly, dimples appearing in her rosy cheeks as she picked imaginary lint from her skirt. Her golden curls framed her face, adding to her angelic appearance. Although Beck appeared to only be in her late teens or very early twenties, the other woman appeared even younger. The truth was that Eris was, in fact, a few thousand years older than the red head.
Beck stole a glance down at her mother's sweater, tugging at it self-consciously. There were few people who could get under her skin, and Eris was one of them. Beck realized that now that she was no longer living a transient life in the human world, it was much easier for her old associates to find her. And the North Pole was directly in the Order's line of vision.
"Might I remind you that you made a deal?" The smaller woman dimpled again, rising from her seat. "Of course, if you can't fulfill your end of the bargain, you are replaceable. I'm confident in the Professor's ability to refresh your memory." Her hands were clasped behind her back as she made a predatory circle around Beck. Her voice was unnervingly calm and polite.
Beck flinched. Images flashed in her mind, of a murky, dark green-blue. Of her startlingly white flesh frantically thrashing before her. A pair of steel-toed shoes in her line of sight, before blackness. She mentally shook herself. "The Professor is a joke, and you're a psychopath." She shot back.
"The Order sees things very differently. However, you have a choice. You are by no means obligated to respond."
"Then don't expect me to." Beck stonily crossed her arms.
"But know this. Under the Professor, every action has an appropriate and equivalent consequence. I highly suggest that you decide which outcome you prefer." Eris stopped directly in front of her, staring her in the face. She was a few inches shorter than Beck, and had to look up. "He's a prophet." She smiled serenely. Beck's skin crawled. The blonde made a show of looking at the clock on the wall, and lightly touching her fingers to her pretty white throat in distress. "Oh, look at the time!"
Beck made an "O" shape with her mouth, mocking her visitor. She clapped her hands to her cheeks in mock concern. "Oh dear! It's already a quarter-past crazy!"
Eris maintained her dimpled smile, with steel in her eyes. "I always enjoy our chats, Beck." She took Beck's shoulders and held her at an arm's length, cocking her head to the side as if admiring her. Beck shook her off. "It would behoove you to consider what I've said."
Beck briskly walked back to the locked door; a front for getting out of physical contact range. "And it would behoove you to get the hell-" She looked back, and paused.
Eris was gone. "Every time," She muttered. "Is that it?" She called to the empty room, clenching her fists. "No grand exit? I've got to say, I was expecting to clean up after you."
Just then, her electricity went out.
Hey, guys! This is my first post as an official college student! Luckily, during Hurricane Irene I had plenty of time to whip up a new chapter. The first thing I decided to do after organizing my dorm was put up a new chapter, to celebrate the new chapter of my life (please shoot me if I ever say anything like that again). I'm not certain how much time I'll have to devote to the story, but I promise to make time.
I really appreciate the support I've gotten from you guys over the past year and a half.
Review please! Critiques welcome!