Love at the North Pole - (Steve Claus x Fem Reader)

Part 3: Come Away! Dash Away!

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The mission control room was eerily quiet, the hum of the surrounding technology heavy and oppressive in the stillness. Santa, Peter, and Steve had already retired for the night, leaving just you and Bryony behind.

Arthur had dashed off moments ago, a blur of urgency, snatching the bicycle from Bryony with one goal in mind: finding that letter. He was already halfway to the letter room, determined to locate the one that would lead him to the forgotten child.

You stood by the console, arms crossed, your thoughts racing. Gwen's letter. One child. One bike. How could everything have gone so terribly wrong? The weight of it pressed on you, and you couldn't understand how Steve could dismiss it so easily. His cold logic left you feeling frustrated and deeply disappointed.

Nearby, Bryony paced in silence, occasionally glancing your way. Though she didn't say a word, her expression spoke volumes-she was just as unsure about what to do as you were. Despite the uncertainty, you refused to give up.

Sinking into the chair at your desk, you switched on the computer. The screen lit up, displaying a single, haunting number: 1. You let out a heavy sigh, resting your head in your hands.

---

Arthur sat in his small, cluttered office, his hands trembling as he muttered under his breath. "It can't be... It just can't. It can't!" His voice grew louder with each repetition, rising with a mixture of disbelief and desperation.

The door creaked open, and Grandsanta shuffled in, his old reindeer following behind him, their bells jingling softly. "What's all this kadoodle about, lad?" Grandsanta asked, his bushy eyebrows arching in curiosity.

Arthur turned, startled but relieved to see the familiar figure. "Grandsanta... it's this little girl. She's been missed!"

"Missed, you say?" Grandsanta huffed, shaking his head. "So much for your brother's fancy-pants technology."

Arthur's shoulders slumped, his face etched with worry. "Steve and Dad tried everything. They said it's impossible. There's no way to fix it."

"Impossible, is it?" Grandsanta mused, a glimmer of mischief in his eye. "Well now, missing a child. Dear me, it gives me chills just thinking about it."

Arthur's voice cracked as he continued. "In two hours, she's going to wake up. She'll race downstairs, full of excitement, searching under the tree. And then..." He swallowed hard. "The look on her face when she finds... nothing. She won't understand. She'll think she's the only kid in the world Santa doesn't care about. She'll feel so... left out."

Grandsanta's expression softened as he listened, and then his lips curled into a knowing smile. "Do you know, Arthur... there is a way."

"They used to say it was impossible to teach women to read," Grandsanta quipped, a sly smile spreading across his face. "Follow me."

Curious but hesitant, Arthur trailed behind him as they made their way through the dimly lit corridors of the old workshop. The air was thick with dust, and the faint scent of wood polish lingered in the air. Grandsanta pushed open a heavy door, revealing a vast, forgotten barn. In the center, bathed in faint moonlight, stood a magnificent old sleigh.

Arthur's jaw dropped. "The actual sleigh?" he whispered in disbelief.