A/N: It's me! With a oneshot! In a review, Smithsbabe65 politely requested a continuation / development of the Christmas story Claire is sharing in the most recent chapter (eleven) of my multi-chaptered fic How to Save a Life. You do not need to read How to Save a Life to understand this one. However, if you do want to read both...please do! I don't think you'll regret it. Oh and also to the readers of the other fic, I'm thinking an update within the next two weeks? I promise this didn't take away time from it! :)
So thanks for the lovely comments smithsbabe65 and for the encouragement to write this one. Not sure if this is what you were thinking of, but here you go! "Of Leaky Pipes and Santa Claus," dedicated to the chimney-less readers out there and those with (irritating) brother(s).
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, ownership of Heroes was not left in my sock by Santa. That means I still am hoping not to get sued for playing with these delightful characters. I also do not own "The Night before Christmas." Please, do not sue.
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'Twas the night before Christmas in the year 2003...
"Claire."
"Claire."
"Claire!"
"Mmmmmpf...wha?"
"Claire, it's me, Lyle. Wake up!" Her aggravating little brother was actually bouncing on the side of her bed. The bed Claire had zero interest in vacating.
Claire rolled away from the unwelcome noise, accidently squishing one of her many furry bears in the process. She tried to get comfortable, but the stuffed animal's hard plastic nose was digging into her ribcage. Meanwhile, Lyle had begun tugging the top comforter from around her ears.
Brothers suck.
"What do you want now, dorkface?" Claire hoped her voice sounded menacing, even at three in the morning. Especially at three in the morning, actually.
"It's Santa! He's here!" Claire opened her eyes just enough to roll them upwards. Ever since Lyle asked their Dad how the jolly old man would deliver presents to their chimney-less house, there had been no living with the kid.
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Two weeks earlier...
"But how does he get in if we don't have a chimney?" Claire looked up from her jewellery making kit. Whatever answer her daddy was going to give her stupid brother was sure to be more interesting than the beaded necklace she was working on (even if it did look pretty awesome already).
Noah Bennet folded the newspaper her had been reading carefully onto his lap.
"Perhaps you better ask your mother, Lyle. Moms know more about the magical workings of the North Pole than we dads do."
"But Daddy," Lyle was climbing off the floor and onto his father's knee, "You gotta know. You're all smart and important. That's why you're always gone on those busy-ness trips."
Claire rolled her green eyes to the heavens. "It's business dummy, not busy-ness." She was still a little sore over the fact that her daddy was going to miss Christmas at the Bennet household. The eleven year old knew that people needed wrapping paper for their presents, but why did her dad have go away from the twenty-third until the New Year? Couldn't somebody else go work for the paper company so he could stay home with the family?
Catching her father's warning glance she closed her mouth from further comment. Mr. Muggles batted one of the fallen plastic spheres that had rolled off the coffee table. Claire scratched behind his soft ear and stuck her tongue out at her brother when Noah wasn't looking.
"Hmmm...Well son, that's why some families have problems with their indoor plumbing – Santa squeezes in through the water mains and out of the tub."
Claire couldn't stifle the gasp that escaped her small mouth. "Really, Dad?" She scooted closer to the armchair he occupied in their living room.
"Oh yes," Mr. Bennet nodded, "That's why we had that plumber here last week. We had to make sure that all the pipes were in tip top shape for the old man."
Claire was in the sixth grade and had serious doubts about the existence of a jolly old man that zips around the planet delivering presents to good boys and girls. Jackie said anyone who still believed in that stuff was a baby. But if her dad said it was true, she'd believe it.
The young girl wrinkled her nose in suspicion, "Are you sure Daddy?"
"Oh yes," he agreed with absolute certainty, "Definitely. Santa's magic. He can do anything."
Well, if her dad said it was so, then it was. He'd never lie to his Claire-Bear.
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"Lyle, just because the bathroom sink is dripping again doesn't mean that Santa's stuck in a pipe somewhere." Claire was amazed by the immaturity of her ten year old brother. "He probably has elves with him in case that happens," she explained patiently while hoping he would go back to bed.
"No, Claire! I saw him!"
"What?" Now he had her interest.
"Downstairs! By the tree! There's a man and-and- flying presents!" His excited voice fell to a hushed whisper.
Claire crawled out of bed. "This I gotta see."
So that was how brother and sister ended up creeping down the stairs to catch Santa and his magic floating presents at a quarter after three in the morning. Claire wished they had stealthier PJ's than her pink flannels and Lyles plaid footies. Oh well.
The two children hid behind the banister on the bottom step of the staircase. Claire put out a cautious hand to hold her brother back. She was the big sister after all, and if it wasn't Santa in their living room, well, there was going to be some serious trouble for the intruder.
"Oy! Be careful there!" Claire looked at Lyle, wide-eyed. There was no one in sight! Where did that accented voice come from?
"Santa Claus sounds funny."
Claire swatted her brother. "Shhhh, Lyle. You don't want him to hear us!"
Suddenly, Mr. Muggles came trotting out of the kitchen, wagging his little tail. Claire felt like she couldn't breathe. The yappy pup would draw attention to them for sure! "Muggles," She hissed, "Come back! Here boy..." But he trotted right on by the frantically gesturing child into the living room.
"Mr. Muggles! What are you doing here?" The siblings looked at each other in surprise. That was their father's voice (which should have only been able to be heard over telephone from wherever the paper company had sent him over the holidays).
"Never pegged you for a pedigree toy dog kind of guy, Bennet."
It was the mystery voice again. Claire just had to see who it belonged to. She slipped into the doorway of the living room where the Bennet family Christmas tree twinkled cheerfully. She couldn't believe what she was seeing could possibly be real.
Claire closed her eyes, counted to ten, and opened them again.
Nope. She was right the first time.
There really were presents hovering in front of the tree.
Her daddy appeared to be picking them out of midair. He carefully placed each one under the low hanging pine boughs. Claire brushed blond curls out of her round eyes and leaned into the room a little more. By the faint glow of the Christmas lights, she could see that the presents were being taken out of her dad's scuffed up old brown briefcase, seemingly on their own. They remained in the air a moment before passing over to her father...and was he wearing ski goggles? "Oh, they must be night vision ones like the army men on TV," her tired brain supplied.
"So Bennet-"
"Shhhhhh," Noah held his index finger to his lips, "You'll wake my kids. I want to surprise them since we'll still on assignment tomorrow. Pass me the one wrapped in the snowman paper."
Suddenly, Claire understood perfectly.
Giggling softly, Claire tiptoed back to the staircase. Lyle, for all the excitement, had fallen into a light doze against the banister. She roused him gently.
"Did you see Santa, Claire?" The little boy rubbed his eyes tiredly.
Taking her brother by the hand, she led him upstairs. When they reached the hallway between their bedrooms, she put both hands on his slight shoulders.
"Lyle, listen carefully." She furrowed her brow in concentration. "I know why Dad had to go away this week. Taking a deep breath, she announced with full confidence and authority:
"Santa is invisible and our Daddy is his special helper elf."
Lyle blinked once. Then again. Finally, he hugged his older sister. "That makes sense Claire. We have the coolest Dad in the world."
Claire squeezed him back, and then pulled him in front of her so he could see her solemn face again in the glow of the hallway nightlight. "I know. But we can't say anything. It's Daddy's big secret and we're not supposed to know. Promise not to ever mention what we saw and heard ever again?" She extended her pinky finger in the universal sign for secrecy. Lyle wrapped his own smallest digit around it in solidarity.
"I promise."
The siblings parted ways and crept back into their beds.
As she curled her toes into the cool sheets and drifted back to sleep, Claire had one thought on her mind...
So does that mean Daddy has to fit through the drain pipes too?
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A/N#2: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone! If the characters seem OOC blame it on their ages and the fact that this is the season for fluff. Please review! :)