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A/N: Who I imagined as Thomas's grandparents, very important for later on.
Thomas Jefferson lived a normal life. He was a preschool teacher, wasn't married, and had no kids. His life was boring, he collected coins, loved to watch old movies, and his favorite holiday was Halloween. He was your average thirty-three-year-old guy.
He was average, really super average, and yet somehow he was in The North Pole surrounded by elves. As in Santa's workshop elves, he seemed to be in their workshop.
It had to be a dream, that was the only reasonable option. So this whole thing was some drug-induced dream... Only he hadn't taken any drugs and he didn't drink alcohol... So then this was just some incredibly vivid dream. Yes, that seemed to be right.
But he hadn't gone to bed, the last thing he remembered was being in his home and shaking a snow globe his grandfather had gifted him when he was younger.
Wait... Was he dead? No that couldn't be, why would death take him to Santa's workshop? It didn't make sense, none of this made sense.
He watched all the elves bustle around, the air surrounding them cheery as ever. Really, he should be asking one of them for help, asking them all how to get out of here, but they all looked like children.
He scanned the room for someone his size, an adult. His eyes landed on a woman with curly hair that went all the way down to her back.
She was much different from the rest, her being an adult pushed aside, she seemed to be the calmest. In a room full of green and red she had on white and pink. He could hear her voice and it was such a nice, soft contrast compared to the hyper chatter filling the room, it was a surprise that he could hear her.
He decided she was the one he was going to talk to. He walked up to her and tapped her on the shoulder. "Jack, we'll finish this conversation later." She turned around to him and Thomas noticed that unlike everyone else she didn't have a sharp point to her ears, they were normal. "What can I do for you, Santa?"
He furrowed his eyebrows, he wasn't Santa, Santa wasn't even real, but then again neither was this dream. "I'm not Santa."
She laughed, "Of course you are, silly."
He shook his head, "No, I'm not." He said slowly. At this, she titled her head like she was thinking, for a moment she was quiet before a flash of realization sparkled behind her eyes.
"He didn't tell you." She mumbled to herself. Now it was his turn to be confused, actually, it had never stopped being his turn, but now his confusion was building up. Who was she talking about and what didn't he tell Thomas.
"Tell me what?" He asked when she didn't elaborate on her statement.
"Oh, right, sorry," She took his hand and led him to an elevator, it was all so fast he didn't have time to object. She punched in a number and a second later the elevator began to move.
