Little Albert sat by the fire, a neatly wrapped present in his hands.
His parents were sitting by him, smiles on their faces. Above them all, the lights of the Christmas tree were like stars in the sky.
Albert could hardly wait, the mystery of what lay inside the box took him over like a fever.
He started tearing the paper, with each rip, a little more of the item was revealed.
Before he finished unwrapping he already recognized the red and white packaging... it was the fire truck he had wanted from the toy store at the mall.
"Yes!" he proclaimed with delight.
"Thanks mom, thanks dad," he said as he got up to give them a hug, "I really, really love it. This was what I really, really wanted."
"We knew you did, honey," smiled his mother, "We saw the way you were looking at it in the toy store. But you have to promise mommy one thing..."
Albert looked up at his mother.
'Don't grow up to be a fireman! I don't think I could handle the stress of it..."
Albert smiled at his mom.
"Mom?" he said, "How did you and daddy meet?"
His parents looked at each other and smiled.
"Actually," she said, "Your Daddy was my firetruck."
As Jack pulled into his driveway he realised almost immediately that something was not right. The pot plant that usually sat over the spare key into his house had moved ever so slightly to the right. He knew because he had placed it against the wood railing of the porch, so that he could tell if it had been moved even slightly. Someone had taken the key from under it. He looked at the lounge window and saw a tiny, dark gap on one side if the curtain... Just enough space for someone inside to be watching him arrive.
Someone was inside his house, and due to the fact that all the lights remained off, he assumed it wasn't anyone he wanted to see.
He put his car into reverse and began to back out of his drive way, but as he did he saw a dark figure walk behind the car. The figure pulled the gate across, shutting Jack's car in.
Trying desperately to avoid panic, Jack reached down and put his hand around the steering lock, the only thing he could use as a weapon.
As the figure walked closer to the car, it withdrew what appeared to be a hand gun and held it with two hands, pointing it towards Jack.
'Get out of the car,' a male voice said.
Jack's first instinct was that this was something to do with the Island. It had to be. And he had thought he was clear of it all. He had done everything he could be to clear of it all.. He had changed his last name, moved to the east coast, and it had been almost half a decade since he had seen anyone from the island.
But somehow, it seemed, the island always found a way back into his life.
The figure approached the side of the car and tapped the window.
'Open the door,' the figure said, his voice muffled through the glass.
Jack remained still.
'Open the door, or I'll blow your brains out, buddy.'
Slowly Jack reached down and unlocked the door. With his other hand, he could feel the cold steal of the steering lock between his fingers.
The figure opened the door, 'Get out of the car and put your hands on your head. If you make any noises, they'll be your last.'
Slowly Jack began to move out of the car, then with one quick swipe he swung the steering wheel up and towards the figure's head.
The man tried to duck, but was still partially hit. He stumbled back, and Jack launched at him. He hit at the gun, trying to knock it from the man's hands, but the man's grip was too strong. Wrestling for a moment, the man over powered Jack and rolled him to the floor.
Jack lay still on the cold concrete driveway, resigned to his fate.
'You might as well shoot me,' Jack said, 'because I'm not going back... I'm never going back.'
The figure remained silent, standing over Jack with his gun pointed towards him.
After a few minutes, the front door opened and four men came out of the house holding large boxes, another with Jack's plasma tv.
As it dawned on Jack that they were simply house robbing thieves, relief flooded through his body. They were just a bunch of bandits looking for a hit on Christmas Eve.
'Tie him up,' said the man with the TV.
'No time,' said the figure with the gun, 'take the stuff out to the van, I'll take care of him.'
The figure took two steps forwards and delivered a hard kick to Jack's ribs.
Jack rolled onto his front, but he was almost smiling. He had never been so happy to be beaten up. As long as no one wanted him to go back to the island, he hardly cared what happened.
With another whack, the figure kicked Jack again, and it reminded him of a rainy day in the jungle when Ethan had beaten and kicked him to the floor.
'And this...' said the figure, 'is for trying to hit me when you came out of the car.'
The figure hit Jack in the head with the butt of the gun, and then there was darkness.
White light was the next thing Jack saw. The sun was rising in the window beside his bed. Standing by the door was a woman reading a clipboard.
'You're back with us,' she said, noticing that Jack was stirring.
'Hey,' he said lamely, realising where he was.
'You suffered a pretty bad knock to the head, but nothing that will keep you here long. You're lucky, your neighbors saw you and called the ambulance. The police want to have a word with you too, to find out who did this... but other then that, you're fine, you're free to go.'
'I need some water,' Jack said. 'I don't care about who did this- I mean- they were robbing my house, they're probably five states away already, enjoying a Christmas turkey. As long as it's over, I'm pretty happy.'
The doctor smiled at that. 'We tried to put a call out to your family members, but you didn't have anyone listed in your emergency contacts.'
'Right... yeah. I was planning to spend this Christmas alone.'
'Christmas used to be such a family thing,' the doctor said, 'but I too spend them pretty alone these days. Comes with the turf, I suppose.'
'You bet. Doctor. That can be a lonely job.'
'You know someone who was a doctor?' She said.
Jack smiled. 'In another life.'
'Well, I've just finished up your paper work. I'm sorry you were beaten up last night, Jack.'
'That's okay, Doc,' Jack said. 'Maybe it was a good thing.'