Small Spirit (Santa Clause/Christmas Carol Crossover)

Small Spirit

Bernard rubbed his eyes, which were swollen from lack of sleep, before staring out the window of his home, and taking a deep breath. What time it was—he couldn't be sure unless he checked a clock as the sun was an almost constant during the summer months at the North Pole and none existent during the winter months, something he'd come to be used to just as he was used to the fact the sunlight from above the workshop didn't penetrate the place, having a magical light system instead that at times went on the fritz.

A tug from beside him made him nearly jump, and he turned, his eyes blinking.

Feeling he'd seen a ghost was a definite understatement, as there was definitely a spirit that had entered his home, one of the few with the ability to do so. "Oh. Hello," Bernard said to the small figure that sparkled next to him. "What do I owe this visit from the Ghost of Christmas Past to? Our Santa is, I think, doing quite well."

As usual, the ghost didn't speak, one hand in its mouth and another reaching out its fingers to entangle with his. It was a familiar feeling, as was the preferred appearance that the first of the three Christmas spirits took when they saw him unless there was something else going on that meant for another appearance to be taken. They preferred the child-like appearance, almost feminine, always warm and welcoming.

A flicker passed through Bernard's mind—memories of Christmas past with his family, and he shook his head. "I don't need to be reminded of that, you know. I still remember."

" Only the pain, " the small spirit pushed forth in his mind. Non-verbal though they were, it wasn't out of the question for them to communicate with other spirits with abilities that were—different. And elves were a form of spirit of sorts, although there was also typically a kind of distance between spirits with a physical form like elves and those that didn't have one. And yet—

"Was there anything else?" Bernard asked.

" Yes. "

"I mean outside of here. That didn't involve my parents," Bernard asked.

" Parents, " the spirit thought, a humming sensation. He wasn't sure if it understood the concept of parents, given it was a spirit not born physically. And then, another tug. " Make memories. "

Bernard sighed. "I tried. It's not easy, you know."

" Being attuned as you are? Isn't it a gift? "

"It is, and it isn't," Bernard said. He then tilted his head. "Wait. Are you visiting because of me?"

" You're not a problem ," the spirit retorted, still holding his hand and still emanating that warm feeling. " Warm feeling. You need it, though. "

Bernard looked away. "Things are the way they are. They just—are."

" They don't have to be. "

And then--

" Shall I go with you to ask Santa for time off? "

Bernard flinched, then looked down at the spirit. He spoke in a monotone. "You'll not let me get away with not asking Santa for time off, will you?"

And then there was that feeling, that confirmation that was the case.

Bernard sighed. "Fine. Fine. It might go easier if you're there. I'm not good at this thing."

" That's why I'm insisting," the spirit said, squinting if that was at all possible. " Your new Christmas Past isn't changing. " And then, " Let's go. "

"Yes. Let's go," Bernard said, even though he wasn't super thrilled. Yet, the Ghost of Christmas past wouldn't be there if there wasn't a reason for it, and he'd been more tired of late.