"Thank you again for your hospitality, Scott, and Merry Christmas." Mother Nature said graciously. The rest of the Legendary Figures wished him the same, sitting in his office.

"Yeah," Cupid chimed in. "You have a fantastic spread." He gestured to a table of hors d'oeuvres and, of course, cookies."The food at Mother Nature's place bites."

"Well, excuseme for being a Vegan!" Said figure shot back indignantly.

"Well, some of us don't enjoy shoving rabbit-food down our craw!" Cupid countered.

"Hey!" The Easter Bunny piped up.

"No offense, man."

"Alright, alright!" Santa Claus, otherwise known as Scott Calvin, quieted them down. He was exhausted from a night of flying around the world, delivering toys. "This is equal-opportunity catering! Now, what is so important that we needed to have a meeting at six in the morning?" It was true – he had actually just gotten back from delivering toys. He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms. Bernard stood beside him vigilantly.

The other Legendary Figures looked at each other nervously. The tension was so palpable that even the Sand Man was awake. Their gazes fell on Father Time, who coughed awkwardly. "Why's everybody looking at me?"

"Well, this is a little awkward," The Easter Bunny said. "We've never made a boo-boo like this before."

"Okay guys, you're making me a little nervous here. Please tell me there isn't anything threatening my position as Santa this time!"

"No, it's nothing like that…hopefully." Mother Nature wrung her hands. No one else seemed willing to say anything, so she continued. "A hundred years ago, a previous Santa was forced to exercise disciplinary action on a…wayward elf." At this, Bernard visibly stiffened. "Really, it was a hundred years ago yesterday, but with everything being so hectic around here, it wasn't a good time to bring it up until now. She was suspended from the North Pole and sent to the human world, having been charged with-" Here she pulled out a list, "-Anger management problems that brought down workplace morale, shirking of duties, defacing of property, truancy, and being an all-around…" She looked around to see if there was anyone else listening, and then leaned in towards Santa, whispering, "Scrooge,"

Bernard gasped at the word. It was probably the worst insult you could give an elf. Santa's eyes widened and his mouth parted in shock. He stroked his beard in thought. The Head Elf shifted from foot to foot uneasily. He knew what was coming. Santa sighed. "So, what do you want me to do?"

"Well," The Tooth Fairy spoke up, "Her sentence was only supposed to be fifty years, but the past couple of Santas didn't want to deal with her, so all of this kind of got dropped in your lap. Sorry." He looked sheepish.

"But if anybody can do it, you can!" The Easter Bunny encouraged him. The others nodded in agreement.

"Wait, hang on. What exactly is it that I'm doing, anyway?"

"Well…" Father time murmured, "Rehabilitating her. You'll have to assign her a parole officer and keep her on a tight leash until you know you can trust her."

"Santa, you don't have to do this!" Bernard insisted, frantically. "This is not the kind of elf you want in your workshop!"

"Don't be so hasty, Bernard," Santa held up a hand, halting him. "I like a challenge every once in a while. Plus, crunch time is over-"

"Yeah, but-"

"-And you could use a hobby." He peered up at the elf over his glasses.

Bernard stood there, his mouth hanging open. When he came to his senses, he became extremely animated. "Absolutely not! Do you have any idea what kind of damage she caused? And furthermore-"

"Bernard, what is your position?"

Bernard stared at him, dumbfounded. "Is this a trick question?"

"No, just tell me what your position is."

"…Head Elf?" He phrased it like a question.

"And who is your boss?"

Bernard saw where this was going. "You," He mumbled crossly.

"If you would like to keep your job, I suggest you listen to your boss." The Legendary Figures watched this exchange with amused looks on their faces. He stood up. "And I believe everybody deserves a second chance!" Everyone else nodded, seconding his statement.

Bernard sighed, defeated. "How am I even supposed to find her? Let alone bring her back here?" He asked, dreading the unpleasant task before him.

"We had a bit of trouble tracking her because she moves around a lot, but we've finally found her address. She lives in Queens, New York." Mother Nature informed him. "And I suggest you go and get her as soon as possible. She can't have taken too kindly to being ignored for a century."

"You heard the lady!" Scott slapped Bernard on the back positively. "We've gotta get crackin'!"

"But Santa," Bernard protested as he was lead towards the stables, "Aren't you tired? You've been up since yesterday, and the Christmas celebration is today. You need to make an appearance!" All around, elves were rising early to prepare for the festivities.

"Fine," Scott allowed, "But that means you have to go by yourself. Unless you're willing to take Curti-"

"No."

"Alright, then. Take one of the reindeer-in-training. The usual team is too exhausted. Now, I'm going to get some beauty sleep."

"Get some rest," Bernard told him. When Scott was out of sight, Bernard deliberately turned around and began banging his head on the doorframe of the stable, startling a few sleeping reindeer. "Why me?"

He tacked up a young but promising reindeer named Clyde. He was not looking forward to seeing her again. "Alright, let's go."

Inside a coffee house in Queens, dubbed "Cat's Cradle" after the owner's slightly creepy love for cats, a girl flipped boredly through an issue of Cosmo, chewing gum loudly. Her wavy red hair was fixed conveniently so that it covered her ears. Her freckled nose wrinkled slightly at the cat dander in the air. She had bored brown eyes which occasionally looked up to stare at the tacky "cat-playing-with-ball-of-yarn" wallpaper in distaste.

I really hate cats.

"Um, excuse me, Miss-"

The coffee girl rudely held up a finger, in the universal sign for "don't get your panties in a twist, sister." She continued to read her article, annoyed at having been disturbed.

"Um-"

"Do I not look busy to you?" Coffee Girl shut her magazine with a loud slap and blew a large bubble. She eyed the customer, a woman in her thirties wearing a yellow pea coat, and fixed her with a hard glare.

"But-"

"I'm not here to babysit you, okay? I'm here to pay my bills. Look, the straws, napkins, and condiments are over there. Happy?"

The woman's face turned pink, and she shifted her weight from foot to foot, staring at the tiled floor. "Actually, there's cat hair in my cup."

"Oh, please. Let me see." She snatched the cup from the customer and peered inside, pulling out a large wad of hair with a disgusted face. "Well, what do ya know?" She dropped it in a waste basket and called over her shoulder, gesturing to the woman, "Larry! Please take care of this!" A balding man in a sweater vest and apron strode over to deal with the customer. She rolled her eyes at the situation and turned back to her magazine.

The bell on the door jingled, and Coffee Girl looked up, face brightening to see a tall, thin blonde man with a gaunt face and shaggy hair. She pulled the neckline of her top down just a bit and fluffed up her hair, striking a nonchalant pose against the counter.

The man approached the counter. "The usual."

"Black coffee with a side of sass?" Coffee Girl leaned over the counter, not-so-subtle-ly letting him get a nice view down her top.

He grinned crookedly. "You know it."

"How about the sass first?" She batted her eyelashes.

"Well, I have to-"

"Shut up."

"Yes ma'am!" He grinned wider as Coffee Girl grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the nearby storage room, ignoring the whispers and disgusted looks from customers and coworkers.

"You know, we still don't even know each other's names," The man gasped as they rolled around on the bags of coffee beans.

"Doesn't matter," Coffee Girl whispered. She giggled as he continued kissing her neck.

Suddenly the storage room door swung open and the two froze in place, exposed.

The owner, a woman in her fifties holding a cat, stared at them. Her jaw dropped and her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Coffee Girl vaguely wondered whether she was having a stroke, and whether it was a bad thing to wait about twenty minutes or so before calling an ambulance. Still looking shocked, she muttered, "You're fired." She shut the door and walked away slowly, as if to let her mind process what she had just seen.

"Damn it!" She got up from her compromising position and scrambled to put her clothes back on (minus the apron, of course). "Well, that's the end of that."

The man pulled on his pants, and after fastening his belt, took hold of her waist. "Well, now we can branch out to other things," He grinned again. "We could start by our names. I'm Gabe."

Coffee Girl nodded politely. "And I'm leaving." She left the storage room.

"Wait, what?" Gabe followed her, dismayed. "But I really like you and I think this could go somewhere!" He seemed unconcerned that he was barefoot, as well as bare from the waist up. Customers blatantly stared at the two, watching the exchange with fascination.

"Yeah, well, you thought, I thought. Tomato, To-mah-to." She laughed, waving her hand and putting on her leather bomber jacket. I feel so bad-ass wearing this, she thought with a giggle.

Gabe followed her outside. "Do you know what you're doing to me?"

"Don't know, don't care. I got mine!"

"You really don't have a heart, do you?" He clearly meant to inflict damage with this comment.

"Guess not!" Coffee girl replied cheerfully, walking away with a skip in her step, leaving Gabe standing in the early morning air. "Merry Christmas!" She ignored the profanity that followed.

Coffee Girl absentmindedly mumbled a song to herself as she mounted the stairs in her apartment building.

"It's the holiday season, so whoop-dee-doo, and dickory-dock, and don't forget to hang up your sock 'cause just exactly at twelve-o'clock he'll be coming down the chimney, now!" She was grinning to herself until she turned the corner and saw an all-too familiar face.

The young man with curly black hair turned to her with a hard look on his face. "Hello, Beck."

Beck was stunned for a moment, but quickly masked it with a smirk. "Hey, Bernie! Miss me?"

Bernard grimaced at the nickname. "Not much."

"You lost all your baby fat," Beck advanced on him. "How are you supposed to keep warm in the winter?" She sneered.

"Clearly with your warm, friendly personality." Bernard remarked dryly, staring at her in disdain.

They were now face to face, and he was only a few inches taller.

"I see you've grown," Bernard remarked.

"I see you haven't." Beck snorted, and unlocked her apartment door, a battered grey thing that matched the rest of the doors in the hallway. The door stuck, and after a few moments of struggling, Beck finally rammed her shoulder into the door, forcing it open.

Bernard strolled in after her, not bothering to ask. Beck pulled her coat off and tossed it onto a futon. Bernard looked around at the apartment. It was sparsely furnished, with off-white walls and beat-up looking blinds covering one small window. There was the faint sound of traffic from the road.

"So," Beck sprawled out on the futon, "They're begging for me back, are they?"

"Begging," Bernard scoffed, "You wish. Your sentence is up. It's time to start your parole at the North Pole." He stood, rooted to the spot, prepared for anything.

"Hm," Beck nodded bitterly, "I don't know if you're aware, but my sentence was up fifty fucking years ago." She stood up and walked over to the window, staring out between the blinds at the road. "I've been moving from place to place every few years. Honolulu, Chicago, New Orleans… I've been in Queens for eighteen months. I like it here." She shrugged.

"I'm sure you probably liked it better at the Pole." Bernard crossed his arms firmly.

"Seen one frozen tundra, seen 'em all." Beck shrugged again. "Anyway, do you really think I'd go back after what happened? Hell no." She crossed her arms, mimicking Bernard's adamant pose. The two stared at one another.

"I brought a reindeer-in-training with me. I know how much you always liked the yearlings." Bernard offered, trying a new tactic: buttering her up. "His name is Clyde."

"Oh, you did that for little old me?" She placed a hand on her heart mockingly, pretending to swoon. "Yeah, right. The Handbook says taking yearlings from the Pole is a no-no. Even I know that." She finished triumphantly.

"Oh, so you think I'm bluffing?" Bernard raised his eyebrows. "I'll show you. Come on." Beck rolled her eyes but followed him anyway.

They reached the parking lot, and she was greeted with the sight of a young reindeer tied to a parking meter. "Okay, so you weren't lying. But that doesn't mean I'm going to go quietly."

"Look, Beck. I don't want you back anymore than you want to return-"

"Thanks, I feel so warm and fuzzy inside."

"-But if I come back empty-handed, the Council will just be up in your face. You're coming back one way or another, so you might as well make this easy for both of us. Anyway, you only need to spend a year up there, max. There's no guaranteeing that you won't be kicked out first, anyway."

Beck stared at him for a moment. "Are you giving me an ultimatum?" She raised her eyebrows and rested a hand on her protruding hip. "Hard-ass. You have changed."

"And you haven't?"

The two stared at each other in silence for a few moments. "Fine."

"And furthermore – wait, what?" Bernard asked, confused.

"I said fine. Now, help me pack before I changed my mind." Beck stomped back into the building grumpily. Bernard followed her, confused but smug all the same.

Clyde landed, rather ungracefully, showering snow everywhere.

Beck hopped off, clutching her suitcase and struggling to regain her footing. "Uh, just putting this out there, but you pretty much suck at driving."

Bernard ignored her. It was a little hard for him to concentrate when she wouldn't shut up – not to mention her sitting behind him and pressing her entire body against his back in the most obscene way possible (not that he would ever give her the satisfaction of knowing that).

"So, Head Elf? That's a switch, huh? You were never exactly the 'Big Man on Campus,'" Beck said, using air-quotes.

Bernard nodded. "I'm not only your Parole officer, I'm your boss." He told her superciliously.

"Ooh, I'm so scared," Beck replied, deadpanned. "So, where's the Fat Man? I have a few choice words for him right now."

He bristled but chose to ignore her word choice. "He's resting after last night. You know, because there are people who actually work around here. I'll show you to your place."

Bernard found that he had still retained the ability to endure her incessant attitude and complaining, despite the long years since he had last seen her. He couldn't help but notice that the silver sparkles characteristic of Santa's elves were absent from her cheeks.

Unceremoniously, Bernard opened the door to the lavishly decorated dwelling as Beck dropped her suitcase. She gazed around the room in wonder. She realized that she had forgotten how elaborate things were at the North Pole, after living in crappy apartment complexes.

"I'll be back in a few hours. We have way too much to do today." Bernard couldn't stand to be on the same planet as Beck, let alone the same room.

"'We?'" Beck snarled. "No. There is no 'We.' If it were up to me, there wouldn't even be a 'you!'"

Ignoring the threat, "Excuse me, I have real work to do." He hastily left.

Beck paused in her loathing when she heard a series of clicks on the other side of the door.

Did he seriously just lock me in? She tugged on the door. When it didn't budge, she kicked it angrily. "That dick!" She shouted, stomping her foot. "That is not fair!"

Now ignoring the beautiful decorations, she sullenly changed out of her work clothes and hopped onto the large bed for a nap.

Why me?

Phew! I've had this story up in my head for quite some time now, and it's about time that I got it down on paper!

Review please! Critiques welcome!