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Chapter Text

Snow Thank You

Last Week of November  

“We know that somewhere inside every lost grown up is the kid they once were.”  

And that was exactly why Dolly Goodwish refused to accept the idea that she had to work with Jack O’Malley. Because deep down, Jack O’Malley, the child, was just as…uggghhh as an adult. And he was one of those kids (and man-child) that made her job harder. And all she had to do was promote the image of Jolly St. Nick™ for every girl and boy across the globe. It should be easy.  

But, no.

Not when Jack O’Malley was involved.

Did everyone else forget how much of a headache he was last Christmas? Did no one understand how much harder it made her job to keep the image of Santa alive in the face of his abduction? In one stroke of his ENTER key, Jack O’Mally – and yes, the Naughty Lister did deserve to always be referred to in a first-name last-name capacity – almost caused their whole operation to go down the snow tubes.   

And not the fun snow tubes, either.  

A Christmas without Santa and presents? Without Christmas Magic?  

It was unheard of.   

And it was not going to happen on her watch. No matter what, kids were going to believe in his image and his message. She worked too hard and too long perfecting The Santa Claus™ image for something like this. Every single detail—down to the last white glove—had been crafted with the utmost care. All the photo shoots, and image deals, and live paintings, and personal appearances, and parades, and quotes to the media - in multiple languages to boot - that didn’t all just happen!  

“It’s not our job to change people. People change themselves,” Nick reminded her, speaking in his low, soft tone in response to her blank expression. The kind of fatherly tone that made anyone and everyone listen to what he had to say.   

Unfortunately, this was one topic she just didn’t want to listen to. Even more unfortunately, with the tingling she currently felt at the tips of her toes, the bottoms of her feet, she knew it wasn’t one she could just walk away from. Nick would make sure they were going to have this conversation, even if it meant using some of his Christmas Magic to keep her in his office.  

“And Jack O’Malley has changed.” Dolly almost snorted out of her red tipped, upturned nose. Her respect for Mr. Claus – Nick to his closest confidants - stopped her in her tracks. Something must’ve shown in her face for his lips twitched upwards into a hint of a smile and he added, “He’s trying. That’s all anyone can ask for. That’s all I can ask for.”  

Nick lifted a finger and gently tapped underneath her chin, forcing her to snap her jaws shut from the dropped position it had been in since he had told her about the employment news. His eyes twinkled in the way it always did, but even more so the closer it got to Christmas Day.   

“I trust you’ll find a way to explain this at the all staff meeting at the end of the week?” he asked, his tone light with amusement.  

Dolly pushed a close-lipped smile to her face. She pulled her clipboard tighter to her chest. Slowly, she sat down into the seat behind her. She was surprised it didn’t fall over with how quickly she popped out of it in outrage when Nick dropped the Hot Chocolate Bomb on her.  

“Nick, with all due respect, I don’t think I know how to positively frame the image of a man who, literally, would steal candy from a baby,” she replied.   

Nick’s eyebrows lifted as he silently settled back into his desk chair. One hand lay across his flat stomach, the other reaching up to start stroking his white (it was starting to look more on the gray-white side nowadays) beard. She made a mental note to take a picture of him before she left; Santa at his desk had always been a winning shot.  

“I wouldn’t ask you to do this if you weren’t the perfect elf for the job,” he reminded her. “There’s no one else I trust for something like this.”  

Dolly grit her teeth, parting her lips into the best smile she could muster. The tips of her ears started to prickle. “Yes, sir,” she said, stretching out her esses. She nodded. “I can start putting the presentation together as soon as I’m back in my office.”  

“Great.” Nick silently gazed at her. “Was there anything else you wanted to say?”  

“Nope!” Her smile frozen on her face, she said it in more of a high-pitched chirpy way than she intended.   

Of course she had something else to say. But she had already told him her reservations. There was no point in continuing to air her negative feelings. It was a well-known dance between them at this point, anyway: the back-and-forth and side steps of her dutifully doing her job amongst her growing frustrations, and his collected and positive rebuttal to every concern. It was equally annoying as it was calming and reassuring.  

“Are you sure?” he pressed. He tilted his head to the side, now clasping both hands over his stomach. “Your ears are starting to point.”  

Dolly took in a deep breath through her nose. She reached a hand up to tuck her hair behind her ears, and did, in fact, feel the top of her ear wasn’t exactly as round as it had been a moment before. Nick merely watched her in silent curiosity. She cleared her throat and bowed her head, scanning over the list in front of her. She just needed to calm down. Lists calmed her down. There wasn’t time to think about anything but the tasks at hand.   

“You know, Nick, we need to get you started on your December itinerary,” she said, changing the subject. She started dragging her finger down the lines of text. “Kittens and puppies have increased in popularity by 200%, so I think we can lean into reporting about our Reindeer-In-Training program. Dasher’s calves look promising, and Vixen’s calves are now weaned. We also need to set up an appointment for you and Mrs. Claus to update your annual photo. Of course, we’ve got you booked to go to Philly for one of the last mall appearances before the big day, but you’ll be pleased to know we’re fielding a lot more appearance requests compared to last year.”

“Dolly.”  

“And of course we’ve got the M&Ms commercial set to start rotation, but there has been more chatter online of people missing Garcia’s Coca-Cola commercial, so we might want to bring it back next year, or film new ones. People really do miss those polar bears.” She touched an ear, finding the skin starting to round out again. “The Air B&B rhyming ad is good, and people seem to be enjoying the new Target ad with Santa that looks a bit more like you. Personally, I think it’s a little too close to home, but people like what they like.”  

“Dolly.”  

“And all your Santa Schools are in their final push for the holiday season. Everyone seems ready to go, and ready to report any oversights we didn’t foresee. This year they emphasized how to interact with children who don’t celebrate anything this time of year. It’s been a struggle with more #SantaIsFake and #SantaTrap videos popping up online, as you know, but—"

“Dolly!”  

Dolly gave up all pretense, slapping her clipboard down in her lap. “He’s a Level Four Naughty Lister!” Disbelief, and admittedly, a little whining was now evident in her tone. The tips of her ears, her nose, burned. “You know what he’s done. You’ve seen his file.”  

“Of course I have,” Nick agreed, speaking in an even tone. A contrast to the sudden jump in volume of hers. “But I know why he’s done everything he’s done and why he’s always been on The Naughty List; even if Jack hasn’t figured it out for himself yet. But I still see the little boy who once believed. I wouldn’t trust you with this if I didn’t think you could use his expertise to your advantage.”  

“I’m sorry, Nick,” Dolly massaged her temples with her fingertips, “I just don’t understand how.”  

Nick twiddled his thumbs for a moment before he said, “The world’s changing, Dolly. Kids stop believing in me earlier and earlier in their lives. They’re seeing the truth online or being told about it at school. They’re growing up faster, and in ways we, nor their parents, can control. But we still need to be there for everyone; for the ones who always believe, and the ones who need to learn to believe again. Maybe they only believe in the positive feeling of the holidays. It’s ok. What’s most important is that they believe in something.”  

“And,” Nick chuckled, a deep laugh, “I seem to remember a time when you were on the Naughty List. And look at you now.”  

Dolly pursed her lips. She blinked. She grasped for something to say. “For Frosty’s sake, that was a long time ago,” she replied. Nick tilted his chin downwards in look of knowing. “Ok, ok, ok. “ With a huff she tried to mask as a sigh, Dolly put her hands up in surrender. “I’ll do it. You can’t say I don’t do my job.”  

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Can I at least get a picture of you before I start working on this presentation?” Dolly asked, getting to her feet.  

“Of course.”  

She set her clipboard down in front of Nick and reached into her bag by her feet. She dug around for a moment, pushing aside notepads, pens, peppermint and spearmint candy canes, some glitter she thought she cleaned out, and a couple different cameras. Selecting an old-fashioned instant camera, she lifted it to her eye and pointed it at Nick.

“Smile and say ‘Snowflakes’.”  

Nick pulled her clipboard closer to him. Reaching across his desk he plucked a shooting star pen out of his cup holder and held the tip over the paper. He smiled at the camera and Dolly snapped the shutter, a flash of light briefly illuminating the space. With a whirr the picture printed out of the camera, and Dolly retrieved it.  

“Ah, your best one yet,” she declared, turning the photo around to face him: Reflected in the printed photo was a jolly looking Santa Claus, white gloved hands clutching a quill poised over curled parchment. His white hair, covered by a red Santa hat, was long and curled at the ends, framing his jaw where his white beard was full and fluffed to perfection. Thin gold framed spectacles sat across his nose. “I’ll see about this being put up on your socials. We can use it as we remind kids to start sending in their letters. Thank you, sir.”  

“You’re welcome.”  

Dolly gathered her belongings and left Nick’s office. Her smile dropped the moment the doors shut behind her. She allowed the rest of her body to sag only when she got into the elevators. The only sound in the elevator was the holiday muzak playing through the speakers. It covered the deep breaths she took in an attempt to calm herself down.  

For the love of Reindeer, he’s got to be kidding, she thought. She buried her fingers into her hair, feeling the now sharp point of her ears brush against her palms as she did so. She had no idea how she was going to swing this. For if there was one thing that really frosted her cookies, it was people like Jack O’Malley.

“If you don’t take this job, I’ll never speak to you again.”  

Normally, this would be the sort of teenage-speak Jack could brush off his shoulders. It was usually accompanied by a scoff or an eyeroll. Or, in Dylan’s case, a mumbling of how stupid the job was, anyway.  

Crisis Management? If anything, Jack was the crisis: for those trying to outrun debts, for companies trying to brush internal scandals under the rug, and the targets of anyone with the right price tag.  

Still, he didn’t remember any of those words from his son whenever he got offers to work with the FBI. And those were offers to work a steady job. Good pay. Great health insurance. An office bigger than a closet. Sure, his experience and talent was a big draw, but it wasn’t exactly a good look to have deep gambling debts and DUIs under his belt, either. Even if he hadn’t had an instance of the latter in over a year.  

But a job with M.O.R.A at the North Pole Complex? Talk about a game changer.

“You’re laying it on a bit thick, don’t you think?” Jack asked, stepping around the kitchen table, placing silverware out on the table. He craned his neck to peer around the dining room to check if Olivia and Craig were still preparing the last bits of dinner. “And could you lower your voice, please?”  

“Sorry,” Dylan said. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I just think you should take the job.”  

“If I take it, it means less time with you, pal.” Jack set down the last bit of cutlery and put his hands on his hips. “Especially around Christmas. Boxing Day, though, apparently, I get that day off.”  

“Not even New Year’s?” Dylan asked, his nose wrinkling as confusion crossed his features.  

“Nah, that was weird to me, too.”  

“Maybe they know how to throw a huge party at the North Pole or something.” Dylan walked behind Jack, re-placing the silverware in the correct spots. “That’d be pretty cool, I guess.” Jack glanced at his son, Dylan’s dark tresses hung over his face (which was growing a bit too long, but Jack knew better than to comment on a teenager’s sense of style), shielding his eyes from his dad.  

Jack sighed inwardly. He had done his best to keep his promise to his son over the past year. He showed up to his son’s events, took him out on one-on-one days, he started testing the waters to see how he and Craig being at events together went, (and Craig was nice, a good role model for Dylan, but Jack got lost in the shuffle at times within their lives so he decided it was easier, at times, not to be around), and he even surprised Dylan with days he’d pull him out of school. Olivia wasn’t exactly happy with it, but the smile on Dylan’s face was always worth it.

He even bought a newer, safer, car and moved to a new apartment. And that went against his usual thought process. People didn’t look twice at you, didn’t wonder what you did for a living if you blended in with everyone else. Not like he had much of a choice; he was lucky his landlord didn’t immediately evict him after the smashed door, broken furniture, and holes punched in the walls…of multiple apartments. If it meant Dylan was more comfortable around him, then it was all worth it. Even if it did sort of go against his personal rules: no one looked twice at you when you could blend in.

Still, it was hard to hear the disappointment underlying his son's words: was this the time Jack would go back to how things were before?

He knew his son would never ask the question out loud, but he was getting pretty good at communicating through his face, short answers, and the silent treatment. Then again, what teenager didn’t have the grouchy attitude mastered by 14? Hell, Jack had surliness down pat for as long as he could remember. Game recognizes game and all that.  

So why did it take a comment from Callum Drift for him to realize just how much his inaction was actively hurting his son? No, he always realized it, it took Callum questioning him to accept it. It was those same words that made him question whether taking the job was worth it.

It was only for a month, and it would take him further off the radar then he could manage himself. Even with all the encryptions and safeguards in his operation, having the extra protective layer of the North Pole would be pretty nice. It wasn’t like he had been away from his son for a month before. Now? It sounded like an eternity.

Was this really the type of job he deserved to even have offered to him? It sounded made for someone else. Someone better.

“I don’t have to take it,” Jack said, “it’s just an offer. An offer isn’t binding.” Dylan lifted his head, his eyebrows coming together. “It’s the verbal contracts that are. But it doesn’t hurt to get anything in writing. Or cash up front. Either or.” Now Dylan lifted an eyebrow, twisting his mouth to the side. “And, yes, I have told you to not get anything incriminating in writing. It’s all important. Right up there with ‘don’t get caught’.” 

Dylan crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. “How’d that work out for you last year?” he asked. “You wouldn’t even have this job offer if you didn’t get caught.” 

And it was in this moment Jack didn’t like how much his son took after him. 

“Don’t be a smartass.” 

“You’d be working at the North Pole.” Dylan looked up at his dad with wide brown eyes. “That’d be so cool.”  

Jack opened and closed his mouth. First Dylan was threatening him, then he was upset, now he was indicating something in his life was actually cool? Boy, he really didn’t understand teenagers at all. Maybe he should’ve looked at those parenting books when Olivia suggested it to him. God knew it had to have a tip in there about holding onto the pride he felt settle in his chest at the idea that his son thought some part of him was awe inducing. 

“Well, I didn’t want to just take it without talking to you first,” Jack said. He reached out a hand to put on Dylan’s shoulder, hesitated for a moment, then followed through and gently squeezed Dylan’s shoulder. “Things have been better between us, right? I didn’t want to just suddenly disappear on you. Ok? Not again.” 

“Yeah, ok.” 

“Plus, I still haven’t exactly figured out how to tell your mom and Craig I’ll be gone for the month,” Jack replied. “If I take the job.” 

“When you take the job.” 

Jack copied his son’s demeanor and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why are you so adamant I take this job?” 

Dylan smiled. “Well, now I can guarantee I’ll get what I want for Christmas,” he replied. His smile widened. “The new iPhone was released recently. And I was starting to look at building my own computer next year. The parts are expensive.” 

Something he knew all too well. He wouldn’t be able to rake in half of his funds without a decent equipment under his belt. Jack placed a hand over Dylan’s face, pushing his son away from him. Dylan laughed, grabbing at his dad’s hand in an attempt to pry it off him. Then, Dylan’s words struck him, and Jack found himself silently staring at his son, a hint of a smile on his face. 

“What?” Dylan asked, cheeks flushed from his dying laughter. 

“Are you into tech?” Jack asked. “Seriously?” Dylan merely shrugged. “That’s pretty cool. I mean, hey, you were a natural figuring out how to hack the attendance record, right? You probably would’ve gotten away with it, if you didn’t slash that kid’s bike tires, though.” He shook his head. “You gotta think about the trail, dude. Know when to get in and get out.” 

“Thanks, I’ll be sure to remember that next time,” Dylan said, flatly. “I’ll also make sure to do a sweep for security cameras.” 

“That’s not a bad idea, either.” 

“Should I also expect a lock picking set for Christmas one of these days?” 

Jack pressed his lips tightly together. He dropped his chin to his chest, sighing, upon seeing the glimmer of amusement in his son’s eyes. Nope. He didn’t like this teenager stuff. And Dylan wasn’t a new teenager either. He was 14. So he was practically 18. A wistful, sad feeling suddenly washed over him: when did he get to be 14? He wondered if those parenting books also covered how quickly time seemed to fly as a parent. 

“Absolutely not!” Olivia stated, carrying a tray of melted butter glistened rolls in her hands. She set it down in the center of the table and pulled her hands out of the oven mitts. “Jack O’Malley, I can’t believe you’d even consider it.” 

“He was just kidding,” Jack commented, lifting his head to lock eyes with Olivia. He smiled. “Besides, if I was going to give him anything like that, it’d be a window hammer.” Olivia’s jaw dropped. “What? You never know when you’ll be trapped in a glass room or something. Like school.” He winked at Dylan who offered a quick smile before muttering something about getting the napkins. 

Neither of them knew exactly how to explain to Olivia or Craig what had occurred over the last holiday season. So, neither of them said a word about it. Not really. They had tried telling the truth, but Santa Claus being abducted and his workshop being real didn’t exactly land. Jack did end up taking her ire on the chin because he did, technically, pull him out of the concert. So, they told her Jack missed his concert because of stage fright and Jack took him on a long drive to calm down. Father-son bonding. And he got the opportunity to see Dylan perform with the jazz band for their New Year’s show to “swing in the new year.”

(And who scheduled recitals, or pageants, or whatever on Christmas Eve, anyway?!)

Craig cleared his throat as he set a platter of mashed potatoes down onto the table. “It just wouldn’t look good with the forging attendance mark on Dylan’s record,” he commented. He drummed his fingers on cloth covered tabletop.

“You know the school permanent record is a myth, right?” Jack asked, lifting his eyebrows. “I mean I’ve got the worst record of them all, and I’ve still got a steady job.” Of course, they both thought he worked in I.T. in tech sales, but that was beside the point.

“And you’ve got a new job offer,” Dylan added, returning with one hand clutching napkins, the other carrying a pitcher of punch.

“Really?” Craig asked. His eyebrows shot upwards in what Jack could deduce was partly surprise and mostly disbelief. “Well, that’s great, Jack. What kind of job are we talking about?”

Jack hesitated. “It’s, uh, a contract position. Only for a month right now,” he lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck. “But, it’s interesting. I don’t even know if I’ll take it.”

“Well, what would you be doing?” Craig asked. He looked at Olivia and they shared a smile. “You ready?”

“Let’s eat,” she replied.

Jack pulled his chair out from under the table and dropped down into it. “It’s Crisis Management,” he replied. “You know, I’d be helping this organization look at their past situations and build a framework for the future, enhancing security protocols, that kind of stuff. I just found out about it recently and I know we’re all busy this time of year. I’d be around as often as I could for Dylan, for you—” He briefly looked at Craig who was busy cutting into his rolls and stuffing them with ham, “you both. Liv, the hospital is so busy this time of year. And Craig, you can be called out of town at a moment’s notice. And this will take up my time.” He waved his hand in the air. “It’s ok. I’ll figure it out.”

“Look, it hard. It’s a new work environment, different responsibilities, different risks,” Craig said. “Anyone would be nervous trying something new. What kind of company will be working for?”

Jack settled back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked over at Dylan, then back at Craig and Olivia, a half-smile coming to his face. “Let’s just say it involves delivery logistics, enhanced security, and damage control.”

Chapter Text

Snow Be It

Jack swung his keys around his fingers, whistling to himself, as he made his way up to his apartment door. His head swiveled past every doorway, every stairwell, and every person he moved past. He hadn’t always done this, but it had become a habit since his abduction last year. Sure, it may have made him a bit more noticeable, when he usually liked to slip past unnoticed, but you couldn’t be too careful anymore.

He had operated under the false pretense that no one would ever be able to track him down. Not like how he could track other people. And he was proven to be wrong.

Coming upon his door, he shook his head slightly when he pressed the metal tip to his fob to the door lock. He heard a soft click, watched the pass light pulse green, and spun the lock to open the door. It was a little too fancy for his liking. Too technologically advanced. If he knew how to crack it to get into anyone else’s apartment, someone else could. The main housing unit ran on a battery for crying out loud. It was why he still preferred actual keys and actual door locks.

Upon moving in, he quickly conceded that it was what he had to work with. If Dylan had the opportunity to stay over, or at least spend time at his new place, he wanted to be sure he knew every exit, every hiding place, and every person he passed. It was a father’s duty to protect their families, after all.

Jack stepped into his apartment, letting the heavy door swing shut behind him, and spun the heavy lock. Then, without removing his hand from the door, he bowed his head and let out a heavy sigh.

“You really have to stop breaking into my apartment,” he announced. “Can’t you knock on the door like a normal person?” He then faced Zoie, who was seated in the chair by his tv. “Or, wait, I never asked. Are you one of those mystical creatures, too? Like a…Scylla or something?”

Zoe tilted her head to the side, her eyes narrowing. Jack opened and closed his mouth before explaining, “You don’t raise your voice, which still gives you a commanding presence over people. You’re the no-nonsense type, the kind to chew people up and spit them out. It’s really a compliment to you.”

Closing her eyes, Zoe let out a long sigh. “An answer,” she finally said, opening her eyes to look at him. “I need one.”

Jack put his hands on his hips, tilting his head back to stare at the sprinkler head on the ceiling. It was just like last time. And the first time she and her M.O.R.A crew went after him. Only the last time, he didn’t have to worry about not getting his security deposit back. No, he just came into his apartment and found her seated in one of his living room chairs drinking hot chocolate from a mug.

“Don’t worry, you didn’t actually do anything this time,” she had explained to his silent look of confusion and dread. At least she had managed to quell one thought that was rushing through his mind: How did she get into his apartment? Did he still have the tracker inside him? Then, indeed, what had he done this time? “We know the FBI have been headhunting you for a while, but I can guarantee that we can make you a better offer. Come work with M.O.R.A, in a contract position, as part of our Crisis Management team.”

“…Huh?” he had simply asked in response.

Zoe had rolled her eyes, took in a deep breath of air, and then carefully set her – or rather his – mug down onto the table. “This is a job offer,” she re-iterated, speaking every word carefully. Jack had made a face. “A contract job. At M.O.R.A. Crisis Management.”

“…Me?”

“You.”

Jack had let out a long laugh. Zoe merely watched him until he was done and still continued to silently watch him. “Ok…what?” he had finally asked.

A job with M.O.R.A working in Crisis Management at the North Pole Complex. Essentially working with the E.L.F. team to assist with making sure this year’s flight went off without a hitch. He would be in charge of creating and deploying crisis plans (like Santa Claus being abducted); lead the meetings, discussions, and formulating strategies to anticipate potential threats including magical anomalies and security breaches; interview, hire for, and lead rapid response teams, working in tandem with other North Pole departments, and determine strategic use of resources that the North Pole Complex housed amongst other duties assigned to him.

It all sounded great. Right in his wheelhouse if he were being honest; skills could be adapted to the role with no issue. But still…Working at the North Pole? With Santa Claus? He did start finding a level to relate to his son with over the past year, but things were pretty rocky. And did they really want a Naughty Lister working with them? And someone who still wasn’t fully into Christmas – and didn’t even know how Christmas was going to look this year; would he go to Olivia’s? Would Dylan spend time at his apartment? - probably wasn’t the best idea.

He had asked for time to decide what he wanted to do. Time was up.

“It’s not such an easy decision,” Jack said, reaching up a hand to scratch the back of his head.

“Yes or No.” Zoe spread her arms out to her sides. “Either or.”

“What exactly are we talking about here?” He was stalling, and she could see right through it.

Zoe’s eyebrows came towards each other. “Enforcement, Logistics, and Fortification,” she explained. “You will enforce any and all emergency action plans you create and ensure everybody in every department knows what to do no matter the situation; you will help manage logistic operations to ensure the correct resources are being used and diverted to each department dependent on the current emergency; and you will fortify our security measures to make sure that nothing like Gryla ever happens again.”

“Ok, sure. But, I'd be far, far away from Philly.” He waved his arm in a giant arc. “Dylan and I are finally in a good place. Kind of. I guess. We’re working on it.” He batted the air, a frustrated grunt rumbling in his throat. “There's a lot of factors to think about here!”

Zoe slapped her hands down on to the arm rest of his chair and slowly lifted herself to her feet. She smiled a close-lipped smile. One that didn’t exactly reach her eyes. “Jack,” she said in an equally unsettlingly sweet tone, “we can do this without you. We have. For years. But Nick has specifically asked that we extend this invitation to you. Do you really want to turn him down?”

A “Ha!” was poised on the tip of his tongue. He had spent years proving to kids that Santa Claus wasn’t real. A big part of him still didn’t want to believe everything he had experienced last year actually happened. It sounded like stuff that could only happen in the movies, and he lived it. But how could he work for someone that he didn’t believe in past the age of five? After all, if Santa couldn’t bring him what he had asked for every year, who could he believe in?

(Though, a nagging thought at the back of his mind did make him wonder if the lack of him actually writing down his Christmas wish may have aided in it not being fulfilled. Or maybe because he stopped relaying his list to the department store Santas. They all worked together, right? He guessed this gave him the opportunity to ask.)

He just knew he couldn’t risk Dylan never speaking to him again. Even if it may have been an empty threat. Who knew what part of a teenager’s diatribe was actually something to listen to? All of it, of course, but still… It was more important that his son could believe he’d still be around whenever he was wanted. As few and far between those times may be.

He had made up his mind.

“There are some conditions,” Jack said, pointing a finger at Zoe, “if I decide to do this.”

“And those would be?” Zoe asked. She removed a personal computer device from her pocket that looked a lot like a PalmPilot. It even had a stylus pen that Zoe had pulled from the device with a flourish and tapped against the screen.

“Wh—what is that?” Jack asked, then pointing at the device.

“I’m making a list of your conditions,” Zoe replied.

“A list?” Jack repeated, his eyebrows lifting. “Like a Christmas list? What, will Santa read it twice before deciding if I get what I ask for?” Zoe merely blinked, the stylus pen poised over the screen of her device. Jack sighed. “I know this job would have me stationed at the North Pole for about a month, but I want to be able to see my son whenever I can. Or…whenever he wants. I need a way to visit him quickly. And I don’t just mean jumping through some toy stores to do so.”

“Ok.”

He lifted a second finger. “I’m paid triple what you paid me last time.”

“Done.”

He lifted a third finger. “Do you get sports games and stuff at the North Pole?” he asked.

Zoe looked up from her handheld device. “You are aware, should this position extend to permanent employment, you work 364 days a year? And even before then, you’ll be working 30 days within the next month?”

“Oh, yeah, Boxing Day,” Jack said. His arm dropped a few inches as he started to chew his bottom lip in thought. It was just 30 days. If he got everything he wanted, it was doable. He lifted his arm again. “And…I get my own personal reindeer.”

Zoe dropped her arms to her sides. “A reindeer?” she asked. “Really?”

Jack smiled. “Either that, or a dog sled team,” he replied. “I’m flexible.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah.” Jack’s smile widened. “If I’m working with the E.L.F team, my office has to be bigger than Cal’s. I do get an office, right?”

Zoe sucked in a breath of air and exhaled it through her nose, the close-lipped smile coming back to her face. She tapped out the rest of his list, punctuating the last demand with a sharp tap of the stylus against the screen.

“Ok,” she said, “Your conditions have been sent to ATM,” she saw the confused look on Jack’s face and rushed to explain, “Arctic Talent Management – Human Resources for the North Pole Complex. You’ll be given further instructions on where to report to before you make your way to the North Pole Complex, forms to sign, onboarding, be fitted for your vambrace; that will allow you access to any and all facilities under your jurisdiction, you will attend training on our protocols procedures, and you will be trained on the operations of all the technology you will not only be required to use, but also required to learn how to keep secure.”

“Ok, ok then.” He offered Zoe is hand and she took it in hers. “We have a deal.”

“Furthermore.” Jack sucked in a breath of air at the sudden vice-like grip she squeezed on his hand. He blindly searched the space around him with his free hand, trying to find something to keep himself upright despite his knees starting to buckle. “This is a top-secret government operation that we’ve been running successfully for years and years. As ‘The Wolf’ I know you are knowledgeable in the importance of security and confidentiality and I expect you to continue to uphold that in this new position. Not everybody is happy that this opportunity is being presented to you, but with your past experience

“And, yes, you are still being tracked,”

“What?” Jack’s voice reached a high pitch. “Why am I still being…?” He shook his head. “Speaking of which,” a smile of amusement came to his face, “everyone gets a codename, right? I mean, I am partial to ‘The Wolf,’ but it doesn’t sound very North Pole-y, if you know what I mean. Do I get a new codename?”

Zoe rolled her eyes, dropping his hand. “And who exactly isn’t happy about this job? Is it Cal? It’s Cal, right? I mean I thought we ended things on a better tone, but the man’s always been wound a little too tight, hasn’t he? Come on, be honest.”

“We’ll be in touch,” Zoe said, ignoring his questions. “Pack warmly. And sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams? What does that-?” Jack felt something cold press into the side of his neck, felt a jolt through his body, and then everything went dark.

Staring blankly at her computer screen Dolly repeatedly pressed a hard strike to her keyboard, flipping through slide after slide of her presentation. Picture after picture of Jack O’Malley’s face and data pie charts, and graphs flashed by her face. Even she couldn’t deny that he looked good on paper:

98% success rate of completion of tasks with his clients.

Top marks in response time and client satisfaction.

Highly sophisticated technological infrastructure.

He knew the importance of security and encryption.

Blah, blah, blah.

Twisting her mouth to the side, Dolly switched back over to the first slide. She let out a soft sigh through her nose. She guessed there was something behind Nick’s choice for the new hire. And if there was anyone she could trust, it was Nick. His picture wasn’t that bad, at least.

For someone who knew how to push everyone’s buttons, he could take a good picture. (What little pictures of him that could be found. It was smart for someone in his line of business to be as hard to find as possible.) She gazed upon the image aligned perfectly to the center-right of the page.

It wasn’t a glamorous picture; seemingly haven been taken in the middle of some sort of party. Jack O’Malley was seated on something, an end table, or a dresser, with his arms stretched out in front of him yet also settled lightly against his thighs. His hands were out of frame, but Dolly could imagine he was holding some sort of beverage. The light from the camera flash washed him out a bit, but still emphasized his dark hair, the blue of his eyes, and the hint of a smile on his face. Someone must’ve called his name to get his attention right before the picture was taken.

He had a nice smile. Even she could see his charisma through the screen.

…No wonder Cal couldn’t stand him.

“Presentation all done?”

Dolly spun around in her chair. “Hey, Ginger,” she greeted the woman that stood in her office door. “Did you send out the memo about the staff meeting agenda?”

Ginger stopped short upon stepping into Dolly’s office, her eyebrows lifting. “Oof. You look like you need a cookie or two.” She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb. “Mrs. C just made a whole batch and put them in the break room if you’d like some.”

“No, I’m not in the mood for cookies,” Dolly said, waving her hand in the air. Then she paused. “What kind of cookies?”

“I might’ve seen some thumbprint cookies.” Dolly smiled. Ginger nodded her head, her rusty-blonde ringlets bouncing around her face as she did so. A layer of frost had settled in the strands of her locks, every shift a shimmery tapestry of pale silver and amber. “And, yes, I have sent out the memo. All the penguins in Communications dispersed it immediately. The Trolls and the Wrapping Department won’t be attending, but we’ll stream the meeting for them. There’s been a backup in the printing of the new print we all voted on, but Phil will keep everyone updated.”

“Great, thanks, Ginger,” Dolly said with a smile. “And, yes, I’ve finished my presentation. Just putting on the final touches. Checking for typos, the overall flow—"

“Staring at the very attractive picture of Jack O’Malley?” Ginger asked with a sly smile.

“No, no,” Dolly said, leaping to her feet. She blindly reached behind her to press the keys on her keyboard until her screen went blank. “I was checking my timing. No one likes long meetings or, or, or,” Dolly tried to keep her face neutral as she tried to think of an example, “or pointless topics of discussion. I mean, do you want to listen to another one of Milo’s rants about how the meeting could’ve been a Snow-Mail?”

Ginger, the Internal Communications Manager, was not only one of the best employees in the Public Relations department, but also Dolly’s best friend.

She was unapologetically herself and had the sort of energy that made everyone feel like they mattered and were invited to be around her all the time. It was how they had met back at Snowy Pines Primary. Ginger had seen Dolly sitting alone on Festive Family Day and left her own parents to sit down at Dolly’s lunch table and say, “My name’s Ginger, like the cookie. You’re not sitting by yourself anymore.”

And for the rest of the Festive Family Day (and every family event after that), Dolly had a family, and by extension, parents to partake in all the activities with. It was better than sitting alone watching all the other kids and elf-kins play the games wrong, anyway. Ever since they had been friends; different, but still a great match. If Dolly were white string lights, than Ginger was multi-colored. Public Relations was the perfect place of employment for her: she loved talking to people and could converse with everyone, no matter their rank, as if they were long-time friends. Should Nick ever have an off day, Ginger was just as jolly and just as much the embodiment of Christmas spirit as anyone else at the North Pole Complex.

“Can I see what you have so far?” Ginger asked. She pushed Dolly’s chair out of the way and brought up the presentation before Dolly could say anything. She flipped the slides back to the title page where the circular logo of the North Pole Complex appeared before moving on to the next bit of information. “’Introducing new hire, [Insert Codename Here] – Real Name: Jack O’Malley’. Insert Codename Here?”

“I would’ve assumed he’d go by ‘The Wolf’,” Dolly said with a shrug, “but ATM got word from MORA that he wants a new codename. Once it’s decided, Cal will let me know.” She rolled her eyes. “Amongst other things on his list.”

“If you’re that worried about it,” Ginger said, quickly shuttling through the other slides “why don’t you ask Cal about him? I mean, he worked with him last year, right?”

“Under duress,” Dolly replied. She gave Ginger an over-the-top smile. “I think that says all I need to know.”

“Anyway.” Ginger turned away from Dolly’s computer. Leaning against the desk, she used her body to block the screen. She leaned this way and that, blocking Dolly from her station. “The polar bear pups are going on their first field trip outside of the nursery. And we are going to cheer them on.”

“My presentation…” Dolly protested.

“The same presentation that’ll go off without a hitch just like all the others?” Ginger asked with a laugh. Dolly slumped in her chair, lifting her gaze to the ceiling. “Dolls, If you want some time to continue staring at Jack O’Malley’s picture, I won’t stop you. Just say the word…”

“Jiminy Christmas!” Dolly pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes. “I wasn’t staring.”

“OK, you weren’t staring.” Ginger put her hands up defensively. “Not that I completely blame you: he’s enough to steam some water for hot chocolate.” She clapped her hands together. “Now grab your coat and your gloves and let’s go. Those polar bear pups aren’t going to wait, and I can’t wait to see how they do with the real snow and ice.”

Dolly sighed, using her feet to push her chair across the room to her coat rack. She grabbed her vambrace from her desk and carefully slid it onto her forearm, twisting the glowing red band around her wrist as she did so. A moment later, she could feel it slowly starting to heat up, warming the skin underneath in advance of her stepping outside.

Unlike Ginger, and Callum, and the other employees, that could walk outside in their uniforms without a care in the world, Dolly needed as many layers and warmers as she could get. In the summers it wasn’t so bad. It was still cold of course, but a few degrees warmer made all the difference. It was just another reminder that she wasn’t like everyone else. Not fully.

But she would push through no matter what. Just like she always did.

“What else did Jack ask for to accept this job, anyway?” Ginger asked.

“A personal reindeer or dog sled team. Apparently, he’s ‘not picky’.” Dolly used her fingers to make air-quotes. “He sounds just like all the other kids that can’t decide which color iPad they want so they ask for both.”

“Which, if I remember correctly, was the catalyst behind your pitch for Christmas in July,” Ginger said, pretending to think. “Right?”

Dolly’s eyes widened. “Ok, so it didn’t take off,” she acquiesced, zipping up her coat. “But I still think it was a good idea. Just give it some time.”

Chapter Text

The Calm Before the Snowstorm

Jack O’Malley,

Welcome to MORA – Mythological Oversight and Restoration Authority.

You’ve been selected to join our Crisis Management team because of your skillset and experience. Due to your experience within the past year, you have been assigned to the North Pole Complex – a one-month contract with the possibility of full-time employment. Please be aware that work at the North Pole Complex is confidential, covert, high-stakes, demanding, high-priority, and fast-paced. Your position is deadline driven and time critical.

Your role will directly impact technical and magical operations within the Complex: including the development and strengthening of technological infrastructure, safety protocols for The Big Night™, protocols for managing our physical and magical resources, and other duties as assigned. Your expertise will be critical in handling unforeseen issues and ensuring that every aspect of our operation functions as it should for another successful Christmas season.

In this position you can expect being on alert to divert any high-stakes situations and watching for any sudden crisis that may arise such as “The Incident” from last year – a near catastrophe. You will be employed at one of the most magical places on Eart. Make no mistake that your position is one in which you are expected to work both independently and proactively within a team environment. It is important for you to adapt quickly.

Before you arrive, you’ll receive documentation outlining our systems, protocols, and resources. Review everything thoroughly. You will be briefed on your responsibilities upon arrival and introduced to key personnel whom you’ll be working in tandem with before the first all-staff meeting of the holiday season. Head E.L.F Callum Drift will be your point of contact moving forward.

Pack warmly.

Zoe Harlow
Head of Mythological Oversight and Restoration Authority (MORA)

“Are you sure you want to take this job, dad?” Dylan asked. He wrinkled his nose as he brushed his hair back behind his ears. He balanced his dad’s laptop against his thighs, settling back against the pillows of the bed. “Sounds tough.”

Jack scoffed, emphasizing his noise with a hard slam of a stack of clothes into the duffel bag settled on his bed. “Weren’t you the one blackmailing me to take the job?” he asked. “What happened to that?”

“I didn’t blackmail you.” Dylan’s eyebrows lowered. His lips flapped in a raspberry blowing scoff of his own.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” Dylan replied. Then he smirked. “I threatened you. There’s a difference.”

“Well, excu-u-use me,” Jack muttered, shaking his head. “And when did you get so good at that, anyway?” He pointed a finger at his son. “You shouldn’t be threatening anyone. Let alone your parent. You should just act. Show ‘em you mean business.” He curled his finger inwards and made a fist with his hand, striking his other palm with it. “Like that Kevin kid’s tires. You didn’t warn him what you were going to do and boom!”

“Yeah, well, I got grounded and mom said I had to pay to replace Kevin’s bike tires, so…” Dylan rolled his eyes. “I used my snow shoveling money.” Now Jack rolled his eyes. “It’s fine. I got him those cool tires with the splatter paint designs on them.” He shrugged. “We’re best friends again.”

“Why?” Jack asked after a beat of silence. Dylan shrugged again. “You can’t trust him. He sold you out so quickly. And wasn’t this the dick that was hanging out with that girl you like? What was her name? Harper?”

“Piper.” Dylan’s eyes widened a fraction of a second before narrowing in that blase ‘Whatever’ look Jack noticed he was seeing more often. “We’re just friends.” Jack silently lifted his eyebrows. “Idon’tlikePiper.”

“Ok.”

“I don’t.”

“Ok. You don’t. Whatever.” Jack put his hands up defensively. “I just don’t think it’s cool Kevin ratted you out like that. That’s all.” He crossed his arms over his chest, then pointed a finger at his son. “It’s like I said, you can’t trust people.”

Dylan mumbled something in response that Jack couldn’t make out. “Well, Zoe just gets straight to the point, doesn’t she?” he then said aloud, motioning towards the computer screen.

“Read the one from Santa,” Jack replied.

Dylan lifted his hand and tapped around the screen – responding to Jack’s loud “Watch the fingerprints!” with a swift, “Why’d you even get a touchscreen computer?” – before he cleared his throat and started reading aloud:

“Dear Jack O’Malley,

We are so-ho-ho excited to have you join out team at The North Pole Complex this year! Everybody: the elves, the reindeer, Mrs. Claus, and I are eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

Jack had not-so-silently scoffed when he had read that part himself. Not everybody would be excited to have him there, he was sure. Yes, he and Cal had come to see each other in a more positive light the last time they were around each other. But that didn’t mean they were the best of friends. That’d definitely be a Christmas miracle. If there was anyone there that was hesitant about a new person coming aboard, it would be him.

“As you know, the North Pole is a special place, where we do our very best to grant the Christmas wish of each and every person all around the world. No wish is too big or too small.”

Jack had another not-so-silent scoff at that one. If that was the case, he wouldn’t have wished for the same thing for years. He slowed in his packing. Maybe this is my chance to ask ‘Old St Nick’ why he didn’t grant me that wish, he thought. How stupid was he to keep writing those letters for so long? If he never got that dang puppy the three (or more) times he asked Santa, and all those times he asked his mom after Santa didn’t come through, what made him think it’d eventually happen?

"Do you have any idea how much work a dog is?” He sure was able to figure that out after the umpteenth time his mom had started her response to questions like that: a lot of work. “I can barely keep up with you right now. All the parent-teacher conferences, and your fights…between that and work, I can barely get anything done around here. I’m already stretched to the limit, Jack. I just can’t add the responsibility of looking after a dog right now.”

“You won’t have to. I will!” Jack had pleaded. He even did his best to use his blue eyes to his advantage. It usually softened his mom up. “Please?” He had then said quietly, “I promise.”

“Promise,” she had repeated just as quietly. Almost like a laugh. “Lots of people make promises, Jack. Some people even make them in front of all of their family and friends. Promises they don’t plan on keeping. You’ve promised you’d stop getting into fights, and I just had to take you to the doctor, again, last week.”

Jack had snorted. “Yeah, well, Caleb promised he’s stop calling me ‘Jumbo Jack’,” he replied. “So, I had to shut him up.”

“With your fists?”

“He did it in front of the girls!”

She had slapped her hand down on the table, causing Jack to flinch. “Jack! You don’t solve your problems with your fists.” She had closed her eyes for a long time then, just taking in deep breaths of air. Finally she had opened her eyes and started sorting through all the envelopes and papers spread out over the kitchen table, a dull look on her face. She was exhausted. “I don’t have time to be cleaning up after a pet right now, ok? Because it will all fall on me. Things are already hard to handle around here. I’m doing the best I can, but I need you to help me out. No more fights. Ok?” She released the papers and grasped his chin with her hand. She pressed her forehead against his. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, mom.” The words ‘I promise’ had died on his tongue. She hadn’t asked him to promise her. They both knew he wouldn’t keep it. Still, she had smiled, placed a kiss to his forehead, and released his chin to pat his cheek with a warm, “Good boy.”

“At the North Pole we work hard to ensure everything runs smoothly, from toy-making to sleigh rides,” Dylan continued to read, “and every little detail in between for a successful drop off on Christmas Eve night. Every day is spent making sure every contingency is accounted for, and every gift is accessible to everyone with a Christmas Wish. We’re confident that your skills will be a wonderful addition to our operation.

“Teamwork is a vital key to our success. I understand you are used to working alone, so I hope you adapt to the new environment here quickly. Everybody relies on each other to ensure smooth operations and that, in turn, allows us to spread even more joy than ever before!

“Please don’t hesitate to reach out to me if you have any questions. I’m only a letter away. Ho ho ho.

Wishing you a holly, jolly, holiday season with us.

Warmly,

Nicholas Claus
Chief of Holiday Cheer, Master of Christmas Magic, and Commanding Sleigh Driver at The North Pole Complex
“From the North Pole, With Love”

“Sounds like a candy-coated nightmare, right?” Jack asked with a forced laugh.

“I think it’s cool,” Dylan replied. “No pun intended.” Jack laughed again. Dylan pursed his lips. “If you think it’s so lame, why are you even taking the job? You hate Christmas.”

“Um, because you threatened me,” Jack replied, his words dripping with ‘duh’. Dylan let out a single “Ha!” as he closed the laptop. “And I don’t hate Christmas. I just think it’s overblown. It’s like Valentine’s Day; you act all nice, and perfect, for one time of year and in exchange you get gifts? Come on!”

“If you don’t want to do it, why did you even accept the job?”

Truth be told, he didn’t feel like he had a choice. Zoe didn’t exactly ask for things from people, she told them what they were going to do for her. It sounded like they had already made the decision for him. And, simply, curiosity. A year ago, he wouldn’t have ever thought mythological creatures were anything more than a playground story. Maybe the Bermuda Triangle was actually something to be worried about, too.

“Because, buddy, sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do to get where you want to be in life.” Jack put his hands to his hips, staring down at his duffel bag. “That including taking on jobs, and doing things, you don’t really want to do.” He clapped his hands together. “Ok, I think that’s about it. Just gotta tie up some loose ends…” He blinked in surprise when Dylan let out a huffing sound and started shimmying off the bed. “What?”

“Take the job, don’t take the job,” Dylan said, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets as soon as he was on his feet. “Whatever, dad. Do whatever you want.”

“What did I do this time?” Jack asked. He reached for Dylan’s arm as he passed, but his son maneuvered himself away from his dad’s grasp. “Dude, stop!” Dylan turned around in the doorway, and shook his hair out of his face. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Dylan said with a shrug. “Whatever.”

“No, not ‘whatever’,” Jack said. Whatever. He was already getting tired of that word. “What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing,” Dylan said.

“Clearly, I said something to bother you,” Jack replied. “What’s going on?”

Jack watched his son’s jaw slide from side to side as his son debated on saying what he really wanted to say. “Forget it," he finally said, his tone barely containing the impatience bubbling up. “You say not to trust anyone, but you’re trusting me with this. And that I had a loose end the second I let Kevin know about changing the grades. So you can’t have ‘loose ends’ right?” Dylan asked, words filled with sarcasm and anger. “Well, that’s me, isn’t it?”

“Dylan…buddy—”

“I’ll make it easy for you and just leave. Forget you told me anything about this.”

“Dylan! Wait. That’s not what I meant, and you know it. You’re not a ‘loose end’. You’re my son.”

“But you said—”

“Forget what I said. Or have said. Or will say.” He pointed a finger in Dylan’s face the second he saw his son arch an eyebrow, a smirk of disbelief coming to his face. Geeze, he really had to work on this discipline thing. Teenagers are smarter than he gave them credit for. “Scratch that. Listen to what I’m saying now: there’s no way I would do this, if it meant I couldn’t have any contact with you. Ok? None of this would have ever happened if it wasn’t for you. I couldn’t think of anyone better to share this with. Ok?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

And there was that word again. Jack clenched his teeth together, clenched his hands into fists, and stopped short of hitting himself in the head with them. “What if I hand-deliver your Christmas list to Santa? Would that help?”

“Now you’re bribing me?”

Jack put his hands together in a praying motion. “Kind of running out of options here, bud,” he admitted.

Dylan raked a hand through his hair. “Good luck at the new job. I hope it goes well.”

“Thanks, son.”

One side of Dylan’s lips lifted into a hint of a smile. Or a smirk. They were becoming harder to decipher. “I can only hope this job also expands your wardrobe a bit.”

Jack pivoted to look at the pile of clothes in his duffel bag. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked.

“Dad, you’re not exactly Mr. Fashion Forward.”

“Meaning…”

“It’s gray on gray on gray!”

“The same color as this city,” Jack said, waving his hand in the air. “Especially in the winter. I don’t hear you complaining about that.”

“Don’t worry,” Jack’s eyes slowly closed when the sound of Callum’s voice reached his ears, “we’ve got some elves in the Tailor Shop that put out exceptional work.”

Jack opened his eye and turned to Callum. “You people really need to stop appearing in my apartment like that,” he said. “How did you even get in here?” He turned back towards his son. “Did you see how he came in here?” Dylan merely pointed a finger at the closet.

“In all colors, too,” Callum said to Dylan, ignoring Jack’s comment.

“Can you show me how to do that?” Jack asked.

“No.”

Dylan’s eyebrows came together as he leaned to the side to look past his dad. He continued the topic of conversation as if Jack wasn’t standing in the room. “It’s not just…red, white, and green?” he asked.

“No, it’s mostly that,” Callum agreed, “especially in our uniforms. A lot of people are pretty partial to navy, too.” He reached past Jack to offer his hand to Dylan. Dylan took it in his, his face contorting into a grimace as the two pumped their hands in a shake. Dylan shook out his hand, flexing his fingers. “Outside of work, there are some who choose to dress down. That’s where you’ll find some more colors.”

“Clearly you don’t?” It was phrased as a question, but both Jack and Callum knew he was making a statement. A year later and the man was still dressed in his leather clothes. Maybe they were a bit bigger. Callum did look like his shoulders and arm triceps got bigger. If that was even possible.

“As Head E.L.F. I don’t get down time,” Callum replied, leveling Jack with a half-lidded stare. “Except for—”

“Boxing Day,” Jack finished with him. “I know, I know.”

“And I find the work uniform to be very comfortable,” Callum explained defensively, lifting his chin. “Fleece lined, custom made, made with the finest yarn. Material you can’t get anywhere else.”

“Ok, but would I ever be able to learn it?” Jack asked, going back to the topic at hand. “I mean, if I’m going to be employed with M.O.R.A., that’s something I’d have to do, right?”

“Iffff you’re hired on permanently,” Callum reminded him. “Then you’d come to be trained in due time, I suppose.” He looked around the bedroom that suddenly felt even smaller with Callum’s big, muscle-y form in it. “Is this it? It’s all you’re bringing?”

“I followed the list Zoe gave me,” Jack said, referencing his computer with the wave of his hand.

“Speaking of which…” Callum cleared his throat and stepped past Jack. Reaching into his breast pocket, he retrieved a small, rectangular device, and plugged it into the computer. There was a loud zzzzppp sound, the screen flashed twice, and then with a pop the screen went black.

“Hey!”

“Just a precaution. You’ll still have access to your file and employee documents at the Complex. Your computer is not encrypted like our systems, that’s all.” Callum exaggerated a slow blink, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, crossing his big arms over his chest. “You can always ask Nick for a new computer. He’d be happy to help you out. And he wants to make sure you can do your job to the best of your ability.”

“Well then,” Jack said, sliding his hands into his jeans pockets, “I guess this is it, then. Tell your mom I’ll give her an update as soon as I can, ok?”

“Sure.” Dylan gave a solemn nod.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Or moved towards each other. They both just rocked on their heels, pressed their lips together, and gave slight nods. “Come here.” Jack looped an arm around Dylan’s shoulders and pulled his son to his chest in a hug. Dylan hesitated for a moment before giving his dad a slight squeeze around the middle. “Stay out of trouble, ok?”

“Sure, dad.”

“Well, if we’re all ready to go—"

“Whoa, whoa!” Jack put his hands up defensively when Callum stepped towards him with a hi-tech looking gun clutched in his hand. The chamber on the side glowed a shimmering teal color as it was pointed at his chest. “No! No! Not again! I refuse. Is there really no way to get me there without this…” He gestured wildly. “This thing? Without knocking me out?”

“Nope,” Callum said, simply. Almost happily. “Not until you’re a permanent employee. anyway. There’s still some things we need to keep secret. You understand.”

“No, I do not,” Jack protested. “We’re going to have a long talk about this—"

“I’ll try to find some time around our busy schedule.” Callum pressed the gun to his chest and pulled the trigger.

Jack felt a force knock into his chest like a punch. A jolt as his heart skipped. Then he felt his entire body lose feeling. His breath caught in his chest, his last breath slowly, very slowly exhaling from his body. The vision of Callum, his closet, the window behind Callum’s form shimmered and swam as darkness crept in like ink in water until it was all he saw.

Chapter Text

Bundle Up, Buttercup

“Do you have to do that every time?” Jack groused upon revival. “For real! Every time?” 

He could barely make out Callum’s look of mild amusement as his vision swum and shimmered. Had he not remembered what occurred beforehand, he would have thought he was hungover. Dry mouth, yet with an odd taste. Did he throw up? His stomach was uneasy and felt like a rock had settled into his stomach. His muscles were fatigued, feeling heavier than bags of sand. Head throbbing with each movement. Sticky drool on his chin he wiped away with his arm, the moment his bound hands were freed.   

“You get used to it after a while,” Callum replied. “Besides, after today, you’ll have more official means of travel. So, this,” Callum waved a massive hand over the sight in front of him, “hopefully, won’t be used on you again.” Jack blinked repeatedly. He shook his head to clear his vision. “You asked for a dog sled team, right?” 

“Or a reindeer,” Jack mumbled. He got to his feet, stumbling slightly on his legs. Grasping the top of his chair, he gazed in disdain at the crate that lay next to him.    

Callum blinked, his jaw tightening. “May actually come in handy,” he admitted, though Jack could hear reluctance in his tone. He couldn’t help but smile in triumph. “It’s a bit of a trek from your residence to your workspace from your shuttle stop on the Sleighline.”   

Jack just stared at him. One hand massaged his stomach as it slowly settled.   

“The Frostlink Sleighline.” Jack’s eyebrows lifted, impatience flooding his expression. “The Light Rail,” Callum continued in response to Jack’s look. “A part of our transit system. Your lodgings reside in the Aurora Reach neighborhood area. Everyone who lives there works in real high level, confidential roles. As such, you reside in the quieter corner of the Complex to make sure your work, should you choose to work remotely, is private and secure.”   

“The Sleighline runs every 15 minutes; every 30 minutes on peak times,” Callum said, ignoring Jack’s comment. “It runs every day of the week, 24/7. Day passes and monthly passes can be purchased. Those who work in Santa’s Workshop get to ride for free.”   

“It’s the North Pole!” Jack said, the words bursting from his mouth. “Doesn’t everybody work in Santa’s Workshop?”   

Callum let out a flat “No” as Jack then he took the time to look around the underlit, cavernous, high vaulted room they were in. (The BASEMENT LOADING DOCK #5 as the large monitor hanging from the ceiling declared.) “Everyone works with Santa, but not everyone works for Santa.”  

A moment later, the message on the screen changed to remind everyone of The All-Staff Meeting TODAY, to schedule their physicals before “Delivery Day”, and to PARK IN YOUR ASSIGNED SLED SPOT. All around the room a news ticker scrolled by with the same messages interspersed with overall greetings of holiday cheer and what looked like stock numbers; the abbreviations Jack couldn’t decipher.   

It was just as dark, and spacious, and busy as the MORA location he had been hauled to last year.    

Steel arms reached up in an arches towards the ceiling. Snow dusted rail chutes came in from all directions of the half circle room, ending in a circular, rotating platform in the middle of the floor. A train of the Frostlink Sleighline rushed into the room, pulling chilly air and snowflakes into the space. With a hissss it slowed on its track, crawling to a stop on the center platform.    

The doors opened and penguins, and elves, and humans (Jack assumed they were humans, anyway. He couldn’t remember if Callum ever told him if he, in fact, was human or not) walked off the train, greeting Callum as they passed. Then the platform rotated, pointing to the front of the train in the direction of another tube and it took off again, heading up an in-cline to its next stop.    

Elevators lined the room, some small enough to fit a single person at a time – which some of the penguins took one by one, lifting their wrists to a panel on the wall that chimed and glowed a green light; some decently sized to hold a group, its doors sliding open after the first in line also scanned their vambrace; and some such a vast space to carry the machinery that beeped as it was slowly and carefully driven out of the elevator carrying crates of machine pieces, and spools of the largest ribbon Jack had ever seen. 

Stacks of crates were scattered around the space, stamped in words in different languages, and the abbreviations for different time zones. Wheels on pallet jacks squeaked as they were pulled across the floor, the ogres pulling them had their heads bent to read the clipboards they held in their hands. 

A large snow globe, which Jack quickly found out was a sort of vending machine, sat between the two biggest elevators. He could see images of different sized cups of drinks that could be chosen, offerings of packages of hand warmers and earmuffs, and snacks like peppermint bark and peanut brittle on offer.    

“How do you buy passes?” Jack asked, speaking in reference to Callum’s information. “With snowflakes?”   

Callum was silent for a beat. “Gumdrops.” He gave an over-the-top smile. “It’s seasonal. It’s festive. You’ll get used to it.”   

Just like I’ll get used to being knocked out? Jack ran a hand over his face. “I was wrong before: now this is a candy-coated nightmare.” Just think about Dylan. You’re doing this for your son.   

“I was kidding.”   

“You can do that?” Jack asked, his eyes brows shooting up. He pat Callum on the shoulder as he stepped past him. “Need to work on your delivery, pal. That straight face thing going on doesn’t sell it.” He put his hands on his hips, exhaling through his nose. “So, if I’m supposed to be working here, why are we in the basement?”   

“You haven’t officially been onboarded yet,” Callum replied. “As a result, you are unauthorized to arrive through employee entrances and must be escorted at all times by an E.L.F. while on the premises.” Jack had the suspicion that this was just another way for Callum to show his displeasure with Jack joining their ranks. It wasn’t like he was jumping for joy about it, either. 

“And out of everybody here, they picked you?” Jack asked. “Why couldn’t they have picked that guy?” He pointed towards a pointy-eared elf that skittered pat them.   

“Because of our prior history. And it was Nick’s personal request. Besides,” Callum pointed his chin in the direction of the elf that had passed, “Billy’s not an E.L.F.”   

“What?” Jack’s voice incredulous question had his voice hit a high pitch. “How-he—how is he not an elf? He’s tiny.”   

Callum gave Jack a look of annoyance. “He’s an elf,” he said, speaking slowly, “not an Ee. Ell. Eff.”   

“And there’s a difference?”   

“Yes. A big one.”   

Jack looked Callum up and down, leaning back slightly to take in the man’s tall stature. “Was that a joke?”   

Callum’s chest swelled as he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath of air. “Follow me. There’s a lot you need to know and not a lot of time before our all-staff meeting.” He opened his eyes and motioned for Jack to follow him.   

He swiped his vambrace with the panel at the closest elevator to them, the panel chimed and flashed a brilliant green, the door slid open. Jack detected a hint of cinnamon and peppermint as he followed Callum inside. As soon as the doors slid shut, Callum started explaining everything as they took the elevator ride up to what the button called The Main Stage:   

The North Pole Complex was protected by a dome that concealed any magic and sign of human life at the North Pole. It was so securely shrouded by technology even Jack couldn’t imagine the kind of systems and security they had in place and that he was now in charge of. Callum had even commented that the Bermuda Triangle used the same sort of shrouding elements that made the location the urban legend it was today.   

He explained that Santa’s Workshop sat in the exact epicenter of the North Pole Complex and that every human and creature working helped to serve Santa’s operation in some way: there were those that ran the Christmas Tree Farm; the chemists that worked in tandem with the candy factory to ensure every bit of candy was the best it could ever taste; the owners and operators of the leather goods that were supplied for all the harnesses and leads for the reindeer, and sled dogs, and their clothing.    

Every division of workers lived in neighborhoods mostly based on their jobs. Though some, Callum had pointed out, also choice their subdivisions by preference. Jack and anyone working surveillance lived in Aurora Reach. Temporary housing for contract employees were available in the Emberglow area; mid-level workers were in Twilight Crest or Radiant Ridgeway; and Hollybrook had all of the starter homes for the newly growing families. And every subdivision was in proximity to places of employment. Or it at least was a short commute away with the light rail. 

“You’ll get fitted for your vambrace and receive all your thermal wear right after the staff meeting, and then you’ll be shown to your office and around Central Command before being taken to your place of residence. Your belongings have already been taken to your home.” The elevator started to slow, and a smile crept onto Callum’ face. “In the meantime, welcome, officially, to The North Pole.” 

The elevator doors slid open with another ding and Jack stepped out into the main area. He had been there a year prior. He had seen just how busy and professionally run everything was. He still couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping at the sight in front of him.    

The cacophony of chatter from walkie-talkies, shouts across the room, and heavy machinery mixed in with the holiday muzak that was playing from the speakers. It was a wall of noise, yet each sound was distinguishable from each other. Jack could feel a lightness, of warmth, that suddenly settled in his chest as he took in all the smiles on the faces of everyone that passed. (Was it, dare he say, Holiday Cheer™? Just the thought made him want to find the nearest icicle and slide it down his throat.) Still, he couldn’t help but admit that- 

“This is so cool,” he said. 

“Exactly.” Jack turned to see Nick striding towards him with a proud smile. His eyes crinkled around the edges, his beard looking as fluffy as the snow outside. “But, uh, try not to use that kind of language around here, ok?” He gave Jack a conspiratorial wink, lifting a finger to his lips. Jack smiled, taking the hand that was offered to him. “Pleasure to see you again.”   

“Thank you for having me, Nick.”   

“Has Cal given you the grand tour?”   

“We’re working on it.” Jack smiled at him. “How’s the missus?”   

“Oh, Sylvie is just jolly,” Nick replied. Jack had to hold back a snort. “Preparing for the big night like we all are. Training simulations, gym workouts, that’s all on her. It helps keep me on track.” His smile widened. “Helps to know I’m not alone in all of this; I’ve got someone to help me out.”   

“Sorry, Nick, are you talking about Mrs. Claus or Cal, here?” Jack asked, jerking his thumb in the direction of Callum who was standing stock stick, head slowly swiveling from right to left as he watched everyone scurrying around.   

“I heard that,” Callum grunted.   

Nick merely chuckled. “I couldn’t do all this without someone like Cal, either,” he explained. “Or you, for that matter.”    

Jack gave him a confused look…and braced himself for some wise crack about being a Naughty Lister. Of course, Santa Claus wouldn’t have a job without his “Naughty or Nice” list. It just didn’t make sense. Why someone with his track record was recruited into a position as prestigious as this. (Why him?)    

And why was the idea of being a Naughty Lister suddenly something that (kind of) annoyed him?    

He was a Naughty Lister. He knew that. And he knew why.    

How could you not be on that list if not for bribing his cousins with candy to show “proof” that Santa wasn’t real? Or how often broke his promises to his mother? Gambling certainly wasn’t something the nicest people on the planet took part in on a regular basis. Or stealing, no, borrowing from anything within arm’s reach? A pen. A piece of candy. Homework. A usb stick. Then gradually expanding to ID cards, credit cards, entire wallets. He did everything and would take anything to get the results that he needed. Most things worked out in his favor. Because he planned for it to. And when it didn’t, that just made him work harder to succeed at his task.   

“Without you, Cal wouldn’t have found his Christmas Spirit again,” Nick explained, his deep voice taking on a wistful timbre. He placed his hand on Jack’s shoulder, gently shaking him. Jack found himself leaning closer towards Nick, focusing in on his words. “I hope we get the chance to do that for you, this year.”   

“Well, I wouldn’t hold your breath about that,” Jack commented.   

Nick’s eyebrows lifted as he set a leveling gaze on Jack that had him shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He hadn’t worked for anyone but himself for so long, he was just used to saying whatever was on his mind, what he was feeling, and anything he needed to say to make his clients fall in line. Still, it probably wasn’t a good idea to insult his boss.   

“Stranger things have happened,” Nick replied, that twinkle in his eye returning once again. “I’ve always found people tend to do a lot of reflecting around the holidays.” He lifted a finger, wagging it gently in the air. “It doesn’t guarantee that people will change, but it does give them space to just slow down and think about who they are. No judgements.”   

“Everybody judges everything,” Jack pointed out. “That’s just how people are. You can do or say one small thing wrong and be labeled a weirdo for the rest of your life.”   

“Hmm,” Nick angled his head to the side. “Or angry? A handful? Disruptive?”   

“Obnoxious,” Jack said, twisting his mouth to the side. “I’ve heard that one a lot, too.”   

“Well, maybe working here will help give you some time to look back on that,” Nick commented. Jack opened his mouth to respond and Nick waved his hand in the air. “Enough of this stuff. We do a lot of hard work, but we also know how to have fun, too. So…” he looked around before nodding his head in the direction of a large hallway off to the side of the room. “You want to go meet your dog team? Maybe take them out for a run?”  

Jack opened and closed his mouth. There was no way this was happening. “…I was kidding,” he managed to get out upon finding his voice.   

“No, you weren’t,” Nick replied, bluntly. “You’ve only asked for a dog for four Christmases in a row.” Jack blinked rapidly, taken aback. Nick unfolded one arm and repeatedly stroked his white beard. “And for just as many birthdays if I recall correctly.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Figured you were overdue. And you can consider it a ‘welcome aboard’ gift.”   

“…Thank you.” He didn’t know what else to say.    

And part of him didn’t want to believe it, either.    

He had asked for so many things over so many Christmases. And so many birthdays. And he never got them. Or he did, and it was a few years after he had asked. Or he never got it at all. He could guess since he was a Naughty Lister, that had something do with it. So, how was he supposed to react when he finally did receive what he wanted?   

“Of course. Besides, there’s nothing like feeling the cold in your lungs, and the wind whipping past you, as the world around you becomes a blur. Nothing like it. I know you’ll enjoy it.” He motioned for Jack to follow him through the hallway to their left. Heavy footsteps behind them indicated Callum was also following them. “We also use dog sleds to help train the elves who will be going on the sled with me for Delivery Day. And those who are on standby just in case any elves need to drop out. We haven’t taken them out yet, so they’re chomping at the bit to go.” Nick looked back over his shoulder as they rounded a corner. “Just, uh, don’t tell Sylvie. She doesn’t like me sneaking off for a ‘run’ without her knowing. She likes it even less when I go without her.”   

“Nick, we need to make sure he’s back in time for the all-staff meeting,” Callum reminded him.   

“Relax.” Nick waved his hand in the air. “There’s plenty of time for that, Cal. Besides, nothing starts without me,” he replied. “Let’s give Jack a bit of fun before the work really starts.” He elbowed Jack in the side, letting out a deep laugh. Then, he smiled a sly smile. “Let’s see if you can beat me in a few laps around here. All in the name of fun, of course.” 

Jack’s ears perked up. A bet? That didn’t sound like something “Jolly St. Nick” should be participating in. Still, even the best people on the planet could easily get pulled into the world of gambling. He had seen it first-hand. He could even assume some of his clients were upstanding citizens in their communities. That’s what made his “no identities, no names” rule so helpful. All he could do was assume. And as long as people were in contact with them, he assumed they had money. 

“Really?” Jack asked, his voice light with amusement. Nick shrugged his wide shoulders. “All right, I’ll take that bet.” 

Dolly closed her eyes as she deeply inhaled over her steaming cup of hot chocolate. She wrapped her hands around the snowman shaped mug and raised the edge to her lips, slowly taking in the salted caramel, sweet honey, and chocolatey rich drink.  

She couldn’t help the “Mmmm” of satisfaction she hummed as her sip warmed its way down her chest and into her stomach, spreading to the tips of each finger and toe. Just like it always did. And like always, it instantly relaxed her. 

“Would you like some time alone with that drink?”  

Dolly rolled her eyes behind her eyelids before opening them to see Ginger and Tim (which wasn’t his actual name, but he chose to go by his codename “Timber” or “Tim” exclusively) watching her with smiles of amusement. No one shook a jingle bell about it, as privacy was very important to him due to his work in the IT Department. Other people’s privacy, though? Work wise, he was tight-lipped about people’s business. But he didn’t shy away from gossip that spread around the North Pole. 

And Dolly’s apparent outward disdain for the new hire was clearly something that entertained him. Ginger, on the other hand, had offered up a trip to the café as a quiet place for Dolly to get in last-minute preparations. 

If it wasn’t for Tim and his team supporting the vambraces and their computer systems, it’d be harder for Dolly to do her job. It had been years and years since she had to write press releases and memos by hand. And they wouldn’t be able to keep their satisfaction scores up year over year without the updates and security patches to their vambraces.  

“Ha ha,” Dolly laughed sarcastically. She set down her cup and reached for the half-eaten frosted sugar cookie on her napkin. She took a bite, her teeth sinking into the pillowy soft dough. The flour on the bottom stuck to her tongue, as the semi-hard frosting smeared on top stuck itself into the curve of her teeth.  

“I don’t know how you can stand eating those,” Tim commented, his nose wrinkling. “They’re so gross.”  

Others had described them as “too sweet,” or “too artificial,” or “too soft.” Which was ironic as those were the exact words older kids used to describe Nick when they started to lose their belief in him. Or, in some cases, as they tried to hide their continued belief in him. Dolly took that as a sign that she was doing her job well. If everyone could have one person that was safe for them, safe to believe in, why not let it be Nick?   

“And nowhere near the quality of cookies Mrs. Claus makes,” Ginger added. To emphasize her point, Tim picked up his headless gingerbread cookie and bit off one of its arms.   

The Gumdrop Café was one of the shops that was lucky enough to get a gift shipment of Mrs. Claus’s cookies throughout the holiday season to sell for an end-of-year sales boost. While her cookies were a highlight, and the owners did well with their own recipes (the egg nogg cookies were to die for), it was the imported cookies Dolly gravitated to. Especially the Lofthouse cookies.   

It was also their favorite café to spend time in before big events at work and to unwind after a long day. Stepping through the front door you were hit with the smell of sugars and cinnamon and apple and vanilla and everything that would relax you the second you stepped through the front doors.  

“I remember my mom eating these a lot,” Dolly said, her voice lifting a pitch in defense. “They’re good.” Dolly took another bite of the cookie, slowly chewing it, letting the frosting coat her tongue.   

She remembered getting the chance to try these cookies her mom had sworn by. “A taste of home,” she would say. It was a secret the two of them shared as they snuck down into the kitchen in the wee hours of the night. Before she was left out of the secret keeping, and her parents had a secret of their own: that they wanted to leave the North Pole Complex. And in turn, leave her behind.  

Dolly never understood how anyone could want to leave this life behind. It was perfect. Magical. Jolly. She wanted it to be that way for everybody. Life wasn’t meant to be a disappointment. When she got the job as part of Nick’s Public Relations team, she knew it was up to her to make everyone believe in his Christmas Magic like she did. It was a tough job, and often thankless, but it meant everything to her. If she crafted the perfect image of the North Pole, of the gifts that Santa could bring, of all the Christmas Wishes that could be granted, maybe she’d finally get hers, and they’d choose to come back.  

“Whatever you say,” Ginger said before blowing into her cup of apple cider. She then grasped a cinnamon stick and started stirring the hot drink. “But that’s not the point. The point is that starting today, Jack O’Malley will be an employee here, and you can’t stand it.”  

“Yes, I can,” Dolly protested.   

Tim snorted around another bite of his gingerbread cookie. “Dolly,” he said once he swallowed his bite, “you’ve been more uptight than a Christmas Cracker,” he replied. “You always are.”  

“Not always.”   

“This is the first time I’ve seen you smile since Nick asked you to start the brief on Jack.” Ginger merely took a long, loud sip of her cider, her wide eyes shifting towards Tim as they shared a look.  

“Ok! I can admit Jack’s not my first choice of an employee, but it’s who Nick wants. So, I’ll just have to deal with it.” She took another long drink of her hot chocolate. She let the warmth sit on her tongue before swallowing. With a sigh, she gazed out of the café window where flurries had started to fall. “I always deal with it.”  

It was just easier to do things by herself. No one else would screw up her hard work. Or offer to help and then just get in the way. Yes, she worked with a team, and worked in tandem with other departments, but at the end of it all, the image of Santa projected to the masses and maintained year after year was all on her. And she didn’t like it when people made her job harder than it needed to be. Doubters were one thing. She could handle that. An abduction on Christmas Eve was another. She was still dealing with that fallout. 

“We were put into this mess last year because of Jack,” she said more to the window than herself. “Christmas almost didn’t happen. And according to Cal he’s still pretty flippant about this whole thing. That’s what bothers me.”  

“Then trust Nick at least,” Tim said. “Jack isn’t a kid anymore. And he helped save Christmas last year. Just give him a chance. This could be him trying to change.”  

Dolly snorted, turning her attention back to her friends. “Jack O’Malley has been a lot of things over the years,” she said, “but he hasn’t ‘tried’ anything.” She smirked. “Unless you count ‘trying’ people’s patience and ‘trying’ to get on my nerves.”  

“People change,” Ginger reminded her. She struck Dolly with a hard stare, her eyebrows lifting. Her thumbs slid around the edge of the mug she held clasped in her hands. “Not everybody stays on the Naughty List. “Remember?”  

“Yeessss.” Ginger’s lips twitched. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” Dolly slapped her hand atop the vambrace on her arm as it started vibrating against her skin. Movement around the café started up, chatter and goodbyes ringing around the space, as a few other customers started gathering their belongings and preparing to head outside. “Duty calls. Meeting time.” Saved by the Jingle Bell. She grabbed her coat off the back of her seat and pulled it on, zipping it up to her chin, pulling her hood up over her head. The soft thermal material brushed over her ears and cheeks.

Then, she pushed her face into her practiced, neutral expression that was all business. Show time. She took one last sip of her hot chocolate for strength, and followed Ginger and Tim (who she noticed, as she always did, didn’t need to put on extra layers) out into the cold air. Snow crunched under their boots as they started making their way back up the snowy slope to the main building.   

Dolly kept her head tucked into the high collar of her coat as she walked. “Good afternoon, thank you for joining us today,” she whispered to herself, going through her presentation. “After the events of last year, I know we all have got some uncertainty of what will come this Christmas season. But I can assure you that the only surprises this year, is a new addition to our ranks.”

Low pitched barks, howls, shouts, and heavy pants reached Dolly’s ears before her world spun and went white. Her breath was pulled from her lungs from not only the force that had suddenly knocked into her, but from the cold she felt as she landed in a large pile of snow. She flinched as clumps of snow smacked her in the face, slid down her collar, and shimmied up her sleeves.

Her lips buzzed as she repeatedly spit out the snow. Blinking and squinting, she stared up at the gray, wispy skies, the sound of crunching snow growing louder just as the whines and barks grew distant. Dolly frantically brushed at the snow on her face. Every shift and strike of her elbow into the sides of her snow-print caused more to fall onto her face.

“Dolly?”

“He didn’t even stop.”

“I’m fine!” Defeated, Dolly stopped moving and settled back into the snow. Her chest lifted as she took in a long, deep breath before she let it out in a sharp sigh. “Golly day.”