After a Thousand Years (48 Christmas Wishes/Santa Clause Crossover)

Out of Sorts

Bernard let out a groan, his eyes closed. His right side still felt the literal effect of hitting a brick wall while the left remained numb, his left hand lying beside him.

"Bernard?"

The head elf grimaced, remembering when he hit the wall because of the explosion. There was a ringing in his ears while the faint memory of hearing the magical boiler exploded, settling into the back of his brain. The overexposure to magic left him overwhelmed, sliding down against the wall as he listened to the muffled sound of Curtis screaming as one of the worst waves of nausea Bernard had ever felt washed over him.

"Curtis."

"Not Curtis," the person said, chuckling.

It was a voice Bernard recognized as he said, "Is Curtis?"

"Don't worry. Curtis is alright, Bernard," the elf sitting near him said.

"Quintin?" Bernard asked, his eyes fluttering open, letting out a sigh, only to groan upon seeing only a blur.

"Can't you tell?" the other elf chuckled.

"Can't see," the head elf muttered, closing his eyes.

"Still?"

"Eh," Bernard let out a small huff. He lifted his right hand to his forehead. "Why are you here? And not back in Elfburg and here in Tinsel Town instead?"

Quintin cleared his voice. "Bernard, how much do you remember?"

"Uh," Bernard shifted or tried to, only to find himself wincing from the pain in his right side and the way the left side of his body wouldn't move. "Let me think."

"Just don't hurt yourself doing so," Quintin laughed. "I can easily fill you in on what's going on."

"Please," Bernard sighed, thinking back to when he slid down to the floor after the explosion only to wince again upon remembering how the moment he hit the floor after his legs buckled under him how his magic started going awry, resulting in him teleporting right into a stack of boxes, but there was the distinct memory of hearing them fall over as well as the sounds of distress from the nearby Christmas Elves at having seen their head elf pop out of thin air right into whatever they were doing. "Oh." The fingers of his right hand spread out across his forehead. "Oh, no."

"What? What did you remember?"

"I was teleporting wildly. I couldn't control it," Bernard muttered.

"Well, yeah. So I've been told," Quintin said from nearby. Bernard heard the chair move, indicating Quintin was moving closer. "I know how you feel about accidental teleporting and the disasters that cause."

Bernard let out a slight hum of affirmation, his hand remaining on his forehead as he tried to stave off the headache. Yet, the memories were now flooding black, and the feeling of nausea returned upon remembering the feeling of terror as he couldn't control his teleportation. At one point, he'd teleported right into the toy conveyor belt in the toy room, knocking over a few more toys, and another time he nearly face-planted into what he thought was a batch of cookie dough. However, he wasn't quite sure as he was already at that point having problems with his vision. A groan escaped.

"What is it?"

"Bauble Peppertoes and Dace Tinselpix," Bernard muttered, remembering how the two younger elves had quickly reached out and grabbed onto the back of his shirt to prevent him from face-planting into whatever they were working on in that particular kitchen at the workshop only to find themselves victims of his teleportation ability, brought along with him, clinging as Bauble cried. "Are they alright?"