Title: Winter
Rating: K+
Summary: The survivors are puzzled as snow begins to fall on the island. Flangsty and dark.
Characters: Charlie, Claire, Jack
Disclaimer: I wrote the story but I don't own Lost.
After the hatch had imploded, life returned to normal. No one noticed anything out of the ordinary at first; after the sky turned violet and everyone's ears stopped buzzing, they cleaned up the mess on the beach like worker ants and carried on. Life was somehow simpler when it was all about survival; little else mattered but the immediate crisis at hand.
Then, a few days later, the temperature began to drop.
Claire noticed it first. The night air pierced her skin and the mornings were frigid. Charlie joked that she didn't have enough meat on her bones to keep her warm, but the next day he donned his hooded sweatshirt without a word and it stayed on. Aaron began to fuss and Claire wrapped an extra blanket tightly around him. People began keeping their fires lit during the day. They could no longer deny that it was getting colder, almost like a change in the seasons except that in the tropics, the only seasons were heat and rain.
Then the snow began to fall.
Claire didn't know what it was at first. Growing up in Australia, she had only seen snow on television, but Charlie knew. He held out his hand and she watched as the frozen flakes floated down into his palm, holding their shape until his body heat melted them to water. As strange as it was, she found it beautiful. She stood mesmerized at the sight along with everyone else until Jack suggested that everyone move back to the caves until it passed and the temperature returned to normal.
But it didn't.
The snow fell for four days straight and it grew colder, the ocean breezes mutating into a sharp bite. Charlie, Claire and Aaron had packed up and moved along with everyone else. They staked out a space well protected by rock and revisited the abandoned luggage for sweaters and jackets that had once been tossed aside as impractical, layering as much as they could. Claire found a child's sweatshirt and wrapped Aaron up in it. They built a fire and huddled around the flames and each other. Sawyer and Sayid took on the task of searching for firewood under the snow and laying the logs out to dry. Charlie wondered aloud what they would do when their food supplies ran low.
"The ocean's not frozen," said Jack. "Jin can still fish."
It was the most hope he could offer, although they all knew that the trees had stopped bearing fruit and nothing would grow in this weather. Any boar with an ounce of sense would burrow away someplace for warmth. Charlie joked to Claire that the only animals at home on the island now were the polar bears. As she shivered she tried to feed off of his good humour, but the bone-chilling cold combined with her worry for Aaron was making it impossible. She drew in towards him and he put an arm tight around her shoulder, rubbing up and down to create friction.
"Don't worry, love," he told her through chattering teeth. "This can't last forever."
They started sharing a bed out of pure practicality. They simply needed each other's body heat. Most of the islanders did the same where they could. Those that couldn't built a bigger fire. The first night they did it felt awkward, like two teenagers sharing their first experience. Claire couldn't get comfortable; Charlie fumbled and fussed with two thin blankets. They placed Aaron between them and they finally settled on sleeping on their sides facing each other, as close as they dared.
"I'm afraid I'm going to crush him," said Charlie, but eventually their exhaustion won out.
With practice they learned to sleep lightly so they would wake if they rolled. Aaron slept soundly in his human incubator, oblivious to the anxieties of adulthood. Some nights they slept with their arms around each other, others with just their fingers intertwined. Claire found it ironic that it took a freak act of nature to finally force them together like this, but now that they were, she didn't think even an earthquake could separate them.
After a week the food supplies dwindled to alarming levels, and Locke left the caves to try his hand at hunting his first polar bear.
He didn't return.
No one spoke about it. There was really nothing to say. Life was about survival, and you either carried on or you died. Jack was at such a loss that he began making rounds, checking up on everyone to see if they were alright. He examined Claire's fingers and toes for frostbite and checked Aaron for signs of dehydration.
"I'm afraid my milk is going to freeze," Claire joked, but Jack assured her that Aaron was fine.
"Babies have a lot of extra fat to keep them warm," he said.
"How long will he need it?" asked Charlie, without even the pretense of humour.
Jack shook his head. "I don't know. We may just have to find a way to adapt."
"Adapt to what?" said Charlie, his frustration bursting. "Living in the bloody Ice Age?"
"Charlie," said Claire, wrapping her arms around him. He buried his head in her neck and pulled her close. She basked in the heat that radiated off his body as Jack turned away. They clung to each other, the last vestiges of life in a frozen land. Blood pumping, hearts beating, they kissed, and as their tears trickled down and mingled with their mouths, Claire realized that as long as they had each other, they had warmth.