Title: The Miracle of the Oil
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: Bernard enlists Hurley and Charlie's help to find oil for Chanukah.
Characters: Bernard, Charlie, Hurley, Sawyer, Rose
Word Count: 2,266
Disclaimer: I don't own Lost, but Chanukah is in the public domain
He had told Rose that he couldn't keep track of the days of the week, and that was true, but Bernard did know that it was December, at least in the real world. In the world where people still woke to alarm clocks and sent their children off on school buses before heading off to work, it was December …something. They had been on the island for a good three months and they had crashed September 22 which put them somewhere around Christmastime. And Bernard may have had a minimal Jewish education but the one thing he did know was that where there was Christmas, there was Chanukah.
Sure he may not have known the exact date – Jewish holidays tended to hop around the Gregorian calendar like grease on a hot griddle -- but he knew it had to be close and that was good enough for him. Under the circumstances, he didn't think God would mind.
The only problem was the menorah.
He needed a menorah and some oil or candles to burn. After the fiasco of the S.O.S sign Bernard knew better than to enlist the bulk of the camp for help. As miraculous an event as the Chanukah story was it was nowhere near the miracle of a rescue for these people and if that didn't light a fire under them then this certainly wouldn't. No, he needed to find someone with little else to do, folks who weren't preoccupied with defending the camp or leading jungle missions, the kinds of people who still believed in miracles and weren't trying to take everything into their own hands.
Bernard needed Charlie and Hurley.
He found them at the shoreline. Hurley was spearfishing and Charlie was watching him from the safety of a rock, thoroughly entertained.
"Mate, I think the fish is smarter than you," laughed Charlie.
"You think you're so smart dude, you get down here and try it," snapped Hurley, dripping wet and shivering from one too many dips in the icy surf.
"No thanks," Charlie declined. "I'll stick to Dharma kippers from a can."
Suddenly Charlie leaned forward and pointed at the waves, "There he is!"
"Where?" Hurley spun around and stabbed at the ocean floor, causing a small tidal wave to engulf him completely.
Charlie lost it, tears in his eyes and clutching at his side. Hurley stared daggers at his friend. Before the scene could turn ugly Bernard intervened.
"Hey guys," he said.
Charlie collected himself and sat up, "All right Bernard?"
Bernard smiled, "Yeah, yeah thanks. I was wondering if you two could help me."
"Help?" asked Hurley, appearing pleased for something different to do. He eagerly walked out from the water, planted the spear and rolled down the cuffs of his pants, while Charlie jumped down from the rock and joined them.
"Yeah," began Bernard now that he had their attention. "It's kind of a silly thing but it's Chanukah you see and I was hoping I could make a menorah."
Charlie just stared with a slightly confused look but it was Hurley that said, "A me-what-a?"
"It's kind of a nine-branched candlestick that we light for eight days," Bernard explained.
"Why?" asked Hurley.
"Well, it's to commemorate this miracle see," he replied, struggling to remember, "something to do with oil and a victory over the Greek army. Look, it's been a long time since Hebrew school but it's a tradition. We weren't a very religious family but we always did Chanukah no matter what. It's one of the best memories I have of growing up, you can understand that right?"
"Sure dude," said Hurley, "kind of like Thanksgiving dinner or waking up Christmas morning with the presents and stuff."
"Or watching your dad chase your brother around the living room with an empty beer bottle," said Charlie ominously.
Hurley turned and looked at him, "Dude, you have some strange traditions."
"And you don't even know about my Uncle Nate," Charlie replied.
"Anyway," said Bernard, trying to steer the conversation back to the topic at hand. "There's not a lot that's normal around here but I think I need this. I need to know that some things don't change no matter where you are. Will you help me?"
Charlie was nodding already, smile spreading across his face at the opportunity to lend a hand, "You bet. What do we do?"
"Well, I can make the menorah out of bamboo but what I need you guys to do is find me something that will burn, like candles or oil with wicks, enough for eight nights," said Bernard.
Hurley and Charlie looked at each other. "I think there's some cooking oil in the kitchen," said Hurley. "Jin was having a fish fry yesterday. Let's look there."
"Great," said Bernard. "I'll be at my tent making the candlestick. Bring whatever you can find and we'll light it at sundown."
Hurley and Charlie went to the kitchen in search of the oil. "You were just kidding about your dad and Uncle Nate right?" Hurley asked Charlie as they walked off.
"Sure," said Charlie. "That wasn't our tradition."
"Man, I knew it," said Hurley, rolling his eyes.
"We'd open presents first."
"Shut up, man."
They reached the communal kitchen where several campmates were milling around, helping themselves to the supplies. They never had much of a system, it was just a take what you need kind of honour system and for the most part it worked well. Even Sawyer stopped hoarding as long as there seemed to be enough for everyone.
"I know there was a big jug of oil in the food drop," noted Hurley, "but that was a while ago and everyone's been sharing stuff."
"We won't need much though," said Charlie. "There has to be something left."
They searched the bamboo shelves full of boxes and cans designed to survive the next ice age but soon came to the conclusion that the jug wasn't there. Their suspicions were confirmed when they saw Jin, filling the empty oil container with fresh water.
"Jin, dude!" Called Hurley, running over to him, "Is there any more oil?"
Jin stopped and stared for a moment, processing Hurley's words through his limited lexicon of English. Hurley pointed at the plastic bottle and tried again.
"Oil," he said loudly. "More?"
"Ah," said Jin, understanding. He shook his head, "No…more…oil."
"Bollocks," muttered Charlie.
Just as they were about to turn away, Jin added, "Pan."
"What?" said Hurley, "Pan? What's that mean?"
Jin gestured for them to follow, leading them to a frying pan waiting to be washed. He pointed, "Pan. Oil. Take."
"He says we can use the oil," said Charlie. "It looks like what was left from the fry up."
After Jin left, they stared at the browned grease in the pan. Chunks of fish and blackened bread crumbs floated in it. "I don't know man, should we? It's kind of gross."
"Well we're not eating it, it's just for burning," noted Charlie.
"But this is some kind of spiritual thing," said Hurley, "I don't know anything about it but shouldn't the oil be clean, like holy water or something?"
"This is all we've got Hurley," said Charlie. "We'll just have to put a positive spin on it. Find me a bottle and a strainer."
Hurley dug up a small plastic bottle that once held antacid tablets and a small strainer. Carefully, Charlie picked up the pan and poured the oil through the strainer and into the container. When he was finished they lifted the bottle to inspect the result. An amber viscous liquid clung to the bottom about half an inch deep.
"Not bad, eh?" said Charlie. "At least we got all the bits out."
"There's not much though," said Hurley, clearly disappointed that they hadn't done better for Bernard. Suddenly he cheered slightly, remembering the rest of their mission. "Hey we still need wicks right? Let's try and find something we can use for those."
Searching the tents and the jungle, they took matches and lit every twig or piece of fabric they could find, but everything either melted or burned too quickly.
"I think it needs to be cotton," Hurley concluded. "We need string."
Finally, Charlie said, "Hey, I just thought of something. Wait here."
Charlie ran off and returned a moment later with his beloved hooded sweatshirt and pulled the cord from the hood. With scissors he cut the entire string into equal bits of about two inches in length.
"Dude, you're a genius," said Hurley. "C'mon, let's go show Bernard."
When they found him, Bernard was just putting the finishing touches on a bamboo candlestick. Hurley had expected something that Liberace might put on his piano but it looked more like a flute to him – it was a horizontal stick of bamboo with an upright piece on the end and nine holes across the top. Bernard was placing thimbles in each of the holes. He seemed pleased with his work, but when he saw what Charlie and Hurley had for him, his face fell.
"No, that'll never be enough," he moaned. "This was all you could find?"
"Sorry man," said Hurley, "It's better than nothing right?"
"But it's not the same," said Bernard. "We used to light it for eight nights. This will barely be enough for one."
He knew he was being ungrateful. Charlie and Hurley had been eager to help and had done the best they could, but his self pity overshadowed any feelings of gratitude. The two young assistants were now looking as despondent as he was, their earlier excitement completely forgotten. He dropped the last thimble he was holding and stood up.
"Who was I kidding," Bernard said, "expecting this to be a normal Chanukah. There's nothing normal about this place. I'm sorry I involved you guys, I shouldn't have bothered."
Charlie and Hurley exchanged awkward glances. Finally Charlie handed Bernard the small bottle of oil. "We really are sorry Bernard, but here. Take it anyway."
Bernard accepted the oil silently, the pile of homemade wicks on the table alongside the saddest menorah Bernard had ever seen. After they left he poured the oil into the first thimble on the right, inserted one of the navy blue wicks and lit it. It gave off a brilliant golden light. It wasn't much, but somehow it didn't look quite as pathetic as before.
"Well," he sighed, "we're commanded to light Chanukah lights. I hope it's good enough."
The next morning Bernard noticed the wick still alight with a strong flame. Having only been a few hours, he assumed by the end of the day it would be burned out and left the menorah to go about his daily routine. By nightfall he had forgotten all about it and was sitting around a communal campfire having dinner when Sawyer called to him.
"Hey Moses," he said, "that your candle burning?"
"No that was yesterday," said Bernard, glumly.
"I think you better look again nomad, that bad boy's still going."
"What?" Bernard said. Bernard got up and returned to the tent where the lone candle still burned brightly, tall and proud. Rose, Charlie and Hurley soon appeared and they all stood around watching it and smiling. Even Sawyer seemed drawn to it, standing with the group.
"The little oil that could," said Hurley with a laugh. "I think I can, I think I can…"
"That's amazing," said Bernard, "There was only enough oil for one day. Where'd you guys find this oil?"
"We just poured it from Jin's frying p—OW!" said Hurley, glaring at Charlie who had just stomped on his foot.
"It was the most amazing thing Bernard," began Charlie, "We looked everywhere and came up empty. Then we found this single little bottle of oil in the back of the last shelf. No one could remember seeing it before. There was just something about it, it had this…glow. Well we knew right away it was special."
Sawyer snorted. "Now that's the biggest piece of horsesh—OW! Damn it, Hugo, watch your big ass feet!"
"Well, wherever you got it, you guys really came through," said Bernard. "I really appreciate it, I'm sorry I was down on you yesterday."
"It's okay, dude," said Hurley. "This is a really cool tradition. Cooler than Charlie's anyway."
"That's not fair Hurley," said Charlie as they turned and walked off, "I didn't even mention the tradition of receiving the same gift that you gave someone last year, or betting on the first family member to fall down drunk."
"Dude, you're cynical," said Hurley.
The next day Bernard stepped out of his tent and went straight to his little menorah only to find that the oil still burned. It continued to burn the day after that and the day after that, until it had burned for eight full days.
"I just don't believe it," said Bernard, marveling at the yellow flame with wonder as it finally extinguished itself a full week later, right on schedule. "It was only one little cup of oil. This doesn't make sense."
"Now don't tell me you forgot to believe in miracles," said Rose.
Bernard looked at his wife, her face glowing like the flame, a living miracle before his very eyes. She was beautiful and she was here, despite all that they had lost. Suddenly he could see himself beginning a new tradition. It wasn't fancy, it wasn't perfect, but all it took was a little light to show him the way.
He wrapped his arms around her, "Now how could I forget?"
"Happy Chanukah Bernard," she said.