This is a secret santa for Violet Scarlet Lily, I hope you like it! It takes place on the island and is in Charlie's POV.
It was one of the rare occasions in which the entire beach's inhabitants were getting along swimmingly. No one was off traipsing through the jungle on a death mission, no one was disputing over leadership, and no one was fussing over their convoluted love triangles.
I'd spent the majority of the morning lost in music, my guitar my only companion as Claire and turnip-head slept side by side in our shared tent. But now, judging solely by the position of the sun, a few hours had passed, and I decided to meander back towards our beach front home.
When I ducked into our poorly constructed tent, I was welcomed by wavy strands of blond hair shielding Claire's face as her pale hands fidgeted uncomfortably. Nestling up beside her, I delivered a single kiss to her crinkled forehead as I greeted, "Hiya. Enjoy your decade long slumber?"
My attempted quip did nothing to faze her unusually solemn attitude, and she sighed, "Why should I bother to wake up early? The same thing goes on every day here."
"Who is this gloomy pessimist, and what have you done with the love of my life?"
A minuscule smile surfaced at my confession of affection, but her stagnant despair eclipsed any joy.
"Do you even know what day today is, Charlie?"
"Don't tell me it's Arbor Day already? How daft of me to forget."
"Christmas Eve," she corrected. "Tomorrow will be Aaron's first Christmas. I know he won't remember it, but I want him to have a normal life. I want him to have a real first Christmas."
Eager to be Claire's savior by any cost, I asked, "What would you be doing back in the realms of the real world this holiday season?"
"I'd drive Aaron around to see all the decorations. I'd take him to get a photo with Santa. And we'd listen to holiday songs, of course," she listed off with a dreamy stare, before being thwarted by the confines of our reality. "But it's not possible to do any of that here."
"You survived a plane crash, gave birth to a baby without proper medication, and became mates with a dashing young rock star. You know the term 'impossible' is just a load of rubbish," I argued. "With my assistance, this shall be the best bloody Christmas the island will ever see."
"How will you do that?" she curiously questioned, her former melancholic attitude turned sunny.
"The surprise is part of the gift." I smirked. "Now I best be off to create a wonderland of Christmas magic."
The next morning, after hours masterminding the ultimate holiday substitution, I gently nudged the beautiful mother awake and uttered, "Merry Christmas."
She blinked her eyes open with a soft smile, confusion and delight equally visible on her smooth face.
"Your chariot awaits, love," I prodded before instructing her to extract Aaron from his crib. She did as instructed, only to be led out of the tent and towards the caves where a slightly damaged wheelchair was perched.
"What is this for?" she wondered as I motioned for her to take a seat along with her son.
"You wished to drive around and gawk at decorations, did you not?"
She nodded as she complied with my directions, and as soon as turnip-head was securely snug against her chest, I began to push the wheelchair around the area. Although stringing up legitimate Christmas lights was unmanageable, I had created my own display of decorations with the assistance of Sun, Kate, and Desmond's clever hands. With a little pleading, I had even been able to convince Sawyer to be of assistance.
"This is amazing, Charlie," Claire gawked as I weaved the wheelchair past caves adorned with rows of vines twisted into the form of wreaths and branches strung with berries.
"And there's more to come," I said. "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?" she asked as she glanced around, but there was only silence.
"Listen closely," I insisted, then turned over my shoulder to growl, "That's your cue, Jolly Saint Nick."
"Right, sorry dude," Hurley apologized as he emerged in a bright red shirt and makeshift beard created from torn, white fabric. "Ho ho ho. Merry Christmas!"
Aaron looked up at 'Santa' with curiosity, a wide smile dividing his smooth cheeks. His giggles of enjoyment brought both Claire and I to join in.
"Ho ho ho," Hurley repeated, unsure of what else to say. "Santa's sorry he couldn't like, bring you anything this year. But no worries, I think Charlie has something special for you."
"There wasn't much I could make for a child out of the materials around here. I'm no carpenter," I said to the mother and son. "So I decided to do what I do best."
I wheeled Claire back to our tent where my guitar from was stowed before I said, "This is a little twist on an old classic."
"It's Aaron's first Christmas,
It's somethin' to see,
Mommy and Charlie,
Trimmin' baby's Christmas tree.
It's Aaron's first Christmas,
And oh, what a joy,
Looking all around,
For every pretty toy.
It's a very special Christmas,
A blessing from above,
It's Aaron's first Christmas,
A Christmas full of love!"
"Charlie, that was wonderful," Claire swooned as the last of my strummed notes disappeared into the atmosphere. Leaning her lips against my own, she gave a prolonged, sweetened kiss.
"Now it's time for your gift," She announced as she presented me with a jar filled to the brim with sand; sea shells embellishing the inside in a decorative display. "I wish I could've wrapped it. It's the same jar that you gave me imaginary peanut butter from."
"You kept that?"
Bashfully, she shrugged her exposed shoulders as she said, "I know it's silly."
"This is not silly. I adore this. And I adore you," I said, delighted that she actually kept the jar for such a long time. "May this be the first of many holidays together. Merry Christmas, darling."