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Red One: Have Yourself a Merry Little Crisis | Chapter Four

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Summary: Dolly, head of Santa’s PR team, navigates the chaos of keeping the North Pole’s magic alive while managing the world’s growing disbelief in Santa. As she clashes with Jack, a disillusioned human solely responsible for Santa’s abduction, sparks fly. Can they overcome their pasts and truly allow themselves to accept the Christmas Magic they’ve been keeping at arm’s length all this time? Authored By: Rhuben

Divider by @strangergraphics

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.”

#red one #red one fanfiction #fd: red one #jack o'malley #oc: dolly goodwish #authored by: rhuben #by: rhuben #chapter update

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