Something to Fix
Title: Something to Fix
Rating: PG
Summary: Aaron needs to find the perfect gift for Kate for Christmas. He seems to think that Jack would make a suitable present.
Spoilers: Post season 4
Disclaimer: Not mine. :)
Aaron Austen loved being in second grade, he loved his teacher, Mrs. Griffith, and he loved the last week before Christmas when they got to watch movies and make tree ornaments instead of learning sums and spelling.
“So what are you getting your parents for Christmas?” Emily Larson asked excitedly while she chewed the last of her peanut butter sandwich.
“I bought my Mom a big bottle of perfume. Dad helped me pick it out, it smells weird, but he says she’ll love it. I’m going with Mom to get him a new fishing rod this afternoon.” Peter piped in as he threw a wadded up wrapper down the table and his friend Simon.
Simon pushed it away with the curly edge of a pipe cleaner he was using to make reindeer antlers. “Well I’m making my gifts. I’ve been working on Mom’s birdhouse all week and I’m almost done gluing together Dad’s model F-18 fighter jet. It’s soo cool!” He put his hands together as if he was holding a pair of machine guns and made shooting noises.
“What about you Aaron?”
The fair haired boy lowered his eyes as far down the table as he possibly could, pretending to take interest in gluing his popsicle stick reindeer that he had previously abandoned. His best friend Spencer raised an eyebrow when he accidently attached the sparkling pom-pom nose to where its tail should have been.
“Rudolph with your butt so bright won’t you guide my sleigh tonight?” Simon chided in a sing-song fashion.
Emily stifled a giggle.
Spencer gave Aaron a sympathetic smile. “No idea huh?”
The second grader threw his hands in the air with a forward shrug. The frown lines arcing across his tiny face crinkled in disgust. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t have a Dad anymore and Mom’s sad all the time. I really want this Christmas gift to be special.”
"You don't have a Dad anymore? How does that work did he die or something?" Asked Peter with raised eyebrows, Emily promptly hit him.
"You don't ask those kind of things," she huffed.
"No...no it's okay, really. Jack wasn't exactly my Dad but he lived with us when I was younger. He and my Mom got in a big fight and he moved out."
"Ohhh... a divorce like Ronnie's parents," Simon offered.
"Er...yeah sorta. Only I think they still love each other. Jack calls sometimes and Mom always cries when she hears his voice. He's gotten kind sick since he's moved out," Aaron finished.
"Like pneumonia sick?" Asked Emily. "That's the worst kind. Maybe he was out in the cold too long."
"No." Aaron sighed. "Not that kind of sick. The kind that makes you really thirsty and stumble all over the place."
"Wow, that sounds like my Uncle after he's drank too much eggnog," Simon chuckled. The sandy haired boy ignored him and went back to gluing his reindeer. He did his best to ignore the cold sting threatening to extend past his eyes as tears clouded his vision.
"Why don't you give him to your Mom for Christmas?" Suggested Simon. Emily clasped her hands on his shoulder. "It would be so sweet, you said your Mom still loves him. Oh Aaron, you have too," she beamed. "It would be like a fairy-tale come true."
All the boys at the table stuck their tongues out much to Emily's dismay. She shot them each a drop-dead glare while Aaron looked doubtful.
"Isn't that easier said than done?" He asked. "It sounds like a great idea, but how do I do it? My Mom loves Jack but he makes her sad because he's sick and they fight. How would I get him to come over anyway?"
"Maybe Santa?" Emily offered. "I asked him for a new dollhouse last year and he brought me that annnnnnd my brother's PS3."
"But do you think he'd get me Jack for my Mom?"
The red haired girl shrugged motioning for Spencer to fetch a sheet of white paper from the art cupboard. "You'll never know until you write him and ask. I'll bet if you do you'll have the best Christmas gift ever!"
Aaron raked this over in his mind. "Yeah," he beamed. "I guess I would. Mom would be really proud of me then and maybe she can help Jack feel better."
"See?" Simon beamed, "It's a win-win situation. Now how should we start this thing?"
"Dear Santa..." He scrawled in red crayon.
"No no..wait." Emily snatched it from him. "Aaron really needs this so you have to address him properly," she explained, flipping over the paper to write 'Dear, Mr. Santa Claus'.
"Show off," Simon muttered, rolling his eyes. She looked back at him dangerously.
"Fine," he seethed. "Dear Mr. Santa Claus."
"I have been a very good boy all year long."
"Except for the time you put jello in Spencer's shoes." Peter pointed out.
"Okay fine," Emily agreed passing the paper to Aaron who preferred to write with his Rugrats pencil over the crayon.
"Dear Mr. Santa Claus, I have been a very good boy all year long except for the time when I put lime jello in Spencer's shoes. I now know this was wrong and I am very sorry." Emily dictated as Aaron scribbled it down in his spidery printing. They spent the rest of the afternoon tossing around ideas of what words would have the most effect in convincing Santa that Aaron needed his help badly. Spencer, who was long since over the jello incident, went as far as consulting a dictionary he borrowed from Mrs. Griffiths desk while the rest of the class settled in to watch Snow Buddies and the original Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer on a mat in the center of the classroom.
"Okay," Emily gave a little nod when Aaron had finished writing. "Let's see what we've got here."
"Dear Mr. Santa Claus,
I have been a very good boy all year long except for the time when I put lime jello in Spencer's shoes. I now know this was wrong and I am very sorry. Everyone always says it is better to give than receive which is why I was wondering if you would help me cheer up the two people I really care about this year? I think the best gift my Mom could ever get is for Jack to get better and come stay with us. I know you usually don't give people as Christmas gifts but I was wondering if you could make an exception in this case? I bet he'll make my Mom happier than anything else I could ever give her so please consider my request. I will leave cookies and milk for you and a carrot for the reindeer on Christmas Eve. Thank you again and have a very merry Christmas with Mrs. Claus and the elves.
Love, Aaron."
"Now all you have to do is mail it." Said Spencer, folding the letter and helping Aaron tuck it into an envelope.
The boy nodded. "I just hope he gets it in time."
"You still have a week to go and you could always make your Mom something in case it doesn't get there or Santa is too busy." Peter suggested.
"Yeah," Aaron sighed. "I guess."
He thanked his friends as he slowly approached Mrs. Griffith's desk and asked permission to put his letter in the big "To Santa" box in front of the school office. She frowned and warned him that the box may already have been taken to the post office but told him to 'hurry on' when he opened his mouth to protest.
Thankfully the box was full making it difficult for Aaron to push it through the slit. He didn't notice how the envelope stuck out at an awkward angle as he turned his back and rushed back to the classroom to see the end of Rudolph. It sailed easily out of the box when Mr. White, the janitor, held open the lobby doors for Mr. Barron's grade six class who were returning from a field trip, riding the gust of wind like a paper plane until it lodged onto the windshield of one of the parent's cars who might have noticed if it hadn't started to rain.
***Christmas Eve***
Jack splashed cold water on his face, intentionally avoiding the pinched expression that was hidden behind the mess of dark scruff across his chin. He fingered it lightly, memorizing the wiry hairs still damp with a wash of cheep whiskey that had caught on his lips. The taste lingered deep in his throat, following a slight burning sensation that left him pleasantly on edge. He didn't dare look up, maybe when he was a little drunker and the beard meant nothing more than a stout growth of hair on his face, but he was sober enough now to know he was hiding behind it.
The television blared drearily in the background making him half forget that he had even bothered to turn it on, but it was enough to make his mind drift. He though of his father, something he rarely did anymore when he was sober. His image, his dusty cynicism, his drinking, all floating by his mind's eye like a black and white movie that made him shudder as he stared down the mirror, only it wasn't his own reflection he was seeing at all, that was his father's too.
"You never did have much luck with the ladies."
Jack looked over his shoulder with a start. That wry smirk. Now not even dust. He glanced toward the shower to see his father's lanky body sitting on the edge of the tube with a falsely put-upon smirk.
"Ghost of Christmas Past, at your service."
He looked just as he always did, dressed to the nines in his suit and sporting a red Santa Claus tie that Jack was sure he had never seen before. The image made his mouth go dry.
"You're. Not. Real." Jack grated the same mantra he always did when his father appeared before him though the man usually never bothered to talk to him and it never happened when he was half sober so this was certainly new.
"Yes, well that's debatable," Christian sighed. "But it doesn't matter, sorry to rush this along but it's the holidays and I'm swamped. We need to talk," the elder doctor asserted as gently as possible.
Jack gave a wary laugh. "I need to have another drink."
The gray haired man looked into his son's bloodshot eyes and frowned. "I think you've had quite enough for both of us son."
"My own father, who hasn't been sober a day in his life, good one Dad."
Christian inwardly squirmed but his expression didn't waver. He pushed himself up from where he was sitting and turned to face Jack. "You're not me." He said curtly.
"You're better than me."
It had the same effect as if he had bothered to splash cold water in his son's face. The man staggered backward in order to get away until the wall blocked his exit. Now he was cornered with one hand still grasping the sink and the other clenched at his side. His knuckles were bleached bone white under the tension.
"What are you?" Jack rasped, trying to regain his composure.
Christian gazed back sympathetically. "A father trying to keep his son from making the same stupid mistakes that he did in life."
Jack didn't quite believe what he was saying, but he didn't open his mouth to protest either. He tried to convince himself that he was just drunker than he thought, more deluded than he thought.
"I'm not going to go away if you ignore me," Christian chided. "You need to set things straight with your family."
That was enough. Jack didn't care anymore. "My family? You are lecturing me about family? Now this is just damn ironic isn't it?" The younger man shook his head. "You're wasting your breath. I'm a screw up just like my old man," he spat. "One big fu*cking screw up."
"I guess that's why Sarah left you than huh?" The gray haired man shoved his hands in his pockets and sat back down on the toilet seat cover.
"You were never home long enough to give a damn about what she wanted. You were too concerned about trying to fix everyone else to even notice that it was you who was broken. That's something you can't fix is it Jack? You couldn't do it on the island, all those lives that were lost be cause you screwed up, and you certainly can't do it now. You're right you know, you should stay as far away from Kate and Aaron as possible. They don't need a screw up like you in their lives."
Jack stared down at the tile, seething as he opened and closed his fists. His heart was beating wild and fast making his cheeks flush from the blood flow. He wanted to hit his father, to punch him so hard that he had to take it back, but somehow he knew he'd be punching at thin air.
"It hurts doesn't it?" Christian observed sadly, watching his son pound the floor until he got it out of his system.
Jack didn't reply. His knuckles stung from the onslaught and he concentrated on the pain instead of looking up. He never wanted to face his father in life and he certainly did not want to do so now.
Christian removed one of his hands from his pocket smoothing out a soggy piece of paper and setting it on the floor beside Jack.
"Despite what you might think they haven't all given up on you." He said evenly.
Curiosity got the better of him and Jack reached for the crinkled mess, narrowing his eyes to read Aaron's messy script. He mulled over it for a long moment, his eyes darting this way and that as his heart rate settled and the blood drained away from his face.
"This can't be right," he rasped. "Why would he...I'm not..."
The older man gave an audible snort and held out his hand to help his son up off the floor. "Jack, I always said you didn't have what it takes to be a hero. It was never because you weren't strong enough or courageous enough to get the job done, but you come down too God damn hard on yourself when things go bad. Now I want you to prove me wrong." He paused. "You've always been a hero in your nephew's eyes and he has too much faith in you to let him down."
Jack didn't take the hand in front of him but he did stand up. "You really think I should go back there?" He whispered.
"I wouldn't be here if I didn't. You two never really knew what to do." Christian sighed. "Look, she loves you, you love her, swell the score, big happy holiday ending."
"Yeah but..."
"Just do it son. Ditch the beard, go by her one of those 'Sorry-I-Messed-Up-Please-Give-Me-A-Second-Chance' Hallmark cards, and go screw her brains out."
"Dad." Jack winced. His father smirked at him and stepped back a few paces.
"For all I know, I could be passed out and..."
"Whatever you want to believe son." Christian shrugged. "But I really have to be going."
"What, you didn't come to warn me of three spirits who have come to help me see the err of me ways?" Jack mused.
His father issued a throaty chuckle. "We're on a tight budget," he huffed. "You'll be fine."
"Yeah, somehow I doubt..." Jack blinked. He was talking to thin air. His expression morphed into a wary smile when he noticed the letter still clasped between his thumb and index finger.
LOSTLOSTLOSTLOSTLOSTLOST
As much as Jack wanted to walk up to Kate's front door, pour his heart out and beg her to take him back, he knew that this was just as much Aaron's show, which is why he went around the back way. In retrospect, he was lucky, very lucky that Kate or any one of the nosey neighbors hadn't seen him slip the key from under the snowman mat and enter the house through the kitchen door. It took every bit of stealth he had not to wake Kate up when he tiptoed up the stairs at 5:30AM toward Aaron's room.
The house really hadn't changed that much. All the pictures, the ugly lamp his mother had given them after he had moved in, everything still laced thick with her sent, the scent of home. There was no time to dwell on every little detail, he slipped into Aaron's bedroom before she woke up and had him arrested for breaking and entering.
The boy was asleep. Sandy hair tussled as he sprawled on his back with one hand grasping the stuffed whale that Jack had given him so many years ago. The doctor felt overcome, he drew in a ragged breath and was no longer sure if he could do this, if he was ready for this. Aaron never left him an option as he struggled awake, yawning widely and looking up at Jack through sleep-crusted eyes which lit up at the sight of him.
"You came! You really came!" Aaron started to shout before Jack silenced him.
"Yeah I really did kiddo."
"Santa got my letter then? Thank you Jack." The second grader leapt out of bed and hugged him.
"Merry Christmas Aaron," he whispered, ruffling the boy's hair. It was at that point that he realized he was crazy to think he could live without this, the way Aaron's face brightened when he hugged him. Jack didn't dwell on it and looked seriously at Aaron as he held up the letter.
"So?" he asked, putting on a serious expression. "This is your gift so where do you want me?"
The boy considered this. "Would you mind sitting under the tree?" He asked.
"No problem," Jack grinned.
"Oh, and hang on." He dove under his bed to pull out a lopsided popsicle stick reindeer that he had wrapped as his 'backup present' and tore the tag and bow off the top.
"I think you'll be too hard to wrap so can I stick these on you?"
Jack dropped to his knees and allowed the boy to stick the red and gold bow on his chest along with a reindeer tag that read 'To: Mom Love: Aaron' in messy printing.
"So do I look festive or what?"
"You look great!" Aaron hugged him again. "I guess you go by the tree and I'll wake mom?" He glanced at his bedside clock. "It's almost 6:00 anyway so I can probably get her up."
Jack's heart skipped a beat as he stood. He wasn't so certain that Kate would be thrilled to see him, but this was Aaron's wish so he gave a brief nod and headed downstairs.
"Mom...Mom come on you gotta get up, it's Christmas!" Aaron exclaimed as he dive bombed onto Kate's bed, jumping up and down until she rolled over to look at him blearily.
"What time is it?" She groaned, feeling the last tendrils of sleep being torn from her. Closing her eyes again would not be an option. She slowly propped herself up on her elbows to appease her excited second grader.
"It's almost 6:00." Aaron whined. "Come on, we gotta open presents. I bet Santa's been here."
"You think so goober?" she chuckled knowingly.
"Yup," he agreed. "And those presents aren't going to sit around all day for us to open them. You not going back to sleep are you?"
"No." She frowned. "I guess I'm not."
Three minutes later Aaron was practically tugging Kate down the stairs and into the living room where he winked at Jack and waited for his Mom to follow. When she did noticed Jack sitting between the package containing Aaron's new remote control helicopter and a box of chocolates from the nanny, she stared at him and rubbed her eyes blinking a little when his image didn't resolve itself.
"Merry Christmas Mom!" Aaron beamed, pointing to the tag on Jack's chest. She glanced from one to the other giving them both an incredulous look.
"Aaron what did you do?" Her voice cracked and Jack stood up, leading her out of the room. He knew this was something he had to do on his own but gave a reassuring wink back at Aaron. Kate dumbly followed.
They stopped at the foot of the stairs with Jack lowering himself to to sit on one of the upper steps and staring up at Kate who instinctively glared at him. He offered her a wary smile.
"It's been a while huh?" He offered sheepishly.
Kate glowered at him. "What are you doing here Jack?"
He gave a little laugh. "According to Aaron, being a Christmas gift." He reached down to remove the little tag and handed it to her along with the letter.
Kate fought the tears welling up in her eyes as she read it. He kept his head low and waited patiently for her to finish, twiddling his thumbs and squeezing the rounded edge of the step he was sitting on. She stared at him hard when she had finished, taking in every little detail about him. He was clean shaven and he did not reek of alcohol, that was a start.
"You came." Her tone softened. She was almost surprised.
"Yeah." He agreed.
"But this doesn't change what happened Jack," Kate warned.
"I don't want it too. Look Kate, I know I've been an ass and that I really messed up big time, but I get it now and I couldn't let Aaron down again. I'm sick of letting people down...I..."
"Just come out and say it Jack," she warned when he started to babble.
"I'm sorry?" he offered.
"Good answer," she sighed, reaching to touch his cleanly shaven chin. "You know, you've always been a natural," she motioned to the bow still stuck to him and then to the living room, "...just unwilling to let yourself believe it."
"Not this time," he countered.
"I'm not going to be a screw up this time around I'm not going to blame myself,"
Kate raised an eyebrow. "I certainly don't know what's gotten into you." She leaned closer so that he could feel her breath mixing with his own it was enough to raise the hairs on the back of his neck. He silenced with a kiss gentle enough to let her know that it was her Jack she was kissing, not a drunk, not a screw up, her Jack.
"Merry Christmas Jack." He turned and for the tiniest of instances and thought he saw his father standing at the top of the steps, then nothing.
"Mom, can't you play with your Christmas gift later? There's still more to open," Aaron protested from the living room where he had been waiting very patiently.
Kate broke away from Jack's lips their foreheads still touching.
"I think I just might," she winked.
Rating: PG
Summary: Aaron needs to find the perfect gift for Kate for Christmas. He seems to think that Jack would make a suitable present.
Spoilers: Post season 4
Disclaimer: Not mine. :)
Aaron Austen loved being in second grade, he loved his teacher, Mrs. Griffith, and he loved the last week before Christmas when they got to watch movies and make tree ornaments instead of learning sums and spelling.
“So what are you getting your parents for Christmas?” Emily Larson asked excitedly while she chewed the last of her peanut butter sandwich.
“I bought my Mom a big bottle of perfume. Dad helped me pick it out, it smells weird, but he says she’ll love it. I’m going with Mom to get him a new fishing rod this afternoon.” Peter piped in as he threw a wadded up wrapper down the table and his friend Simon.
Simon pushed it away with the curly edge of a pipe cleaner he was using to make reindeer antlers. “Well I’m making my gifts. I’ve been working on Mom’s birdhouse all week and I’m almost done gluing together Dad’s model F-18 fighter jet. It’s soo cool!” He put his hands together as if he was holding a pair of machine guns and made shooting noises.
“What about you Aaron?”
The fair haired boy lowered his eyes as far down the table as he possibly could, pretending to take interest in gluing his popsicle stick reindeer that he had previously abandoned. His best friend Spencer raised an eyebrow when he accidently attached the sparkling pom-pom nose to where its tail should have been.
“Rudolph with your butt so bright won’t you guide my sleigh tonight?” Simon chided in a sing-song fashion.
Emily stifled a giggle.
Spencer gave Aaron a sympathetic smile. “No idea huh?”
The second grader threw his hands in the air with a forward shrug. The frown lines arcing across his tiny face crinkled in disgust. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t have a Dad anymore and Mom’s sad all the time. I really want this Christmas gift to be special.”
"You don't have a Dad anymore? How does that work did he die or something?" Asked Peter with raised eyebrows, Emily promptly hit him.
"You don't ask those kind of things," she huffed.
"No...no it's okay, really. Jack wasn't exactly my Dad but he lived with us when I was younger. He and my Mom got in a big fight and he moved out."
"Ohhh... a divorce like Ronnie's parents," Simon offered.
"Er...yeah sorta. Only I think they still love each other. Jack calls sometimes and Mom always cries when she hears his voice. He's gotten kind sick since he's moved out," Aaron finished.
"Like pneumonia sick?" Asked Emily. "That's the worst kind. Maybe he was out in the cold too long."
"No." Aaron sighed. "Not that kind of sick. The kind that makes you really thirsty and stumble all over the place."
"Wow, that sounds like my Uncle after he's drank too much eggnog," Simon chuckled. The sandy haired boy ignored him and went back to gluing his reindeer. He did his best to ignore the cold sting threatening to extend past his eyes as tears clouded his vision.
"Why don't you give him to your Mom for Christmas?" Suggested Simon. Emily clasped her hands on his shoulder. "It would be so sweet, you said your Mom still loves him. Oh Aaron, you have too," she beamed. "It would be like a fairy-tale come true."
All the boys at the table stuck their tongues out much to Emily's dismay. She shot them each a drop-dead glare while Aaron looked doubtful.
"Isn't that easier said than done?" He asked. "It sounds like a great idea, but how do I do it? My Mom loves Jack but he makes her sad because he's sick and they fight. How would I get him to come over anyway?"
"Maybe Santa?" Emily offered. "I asked him for a new dollhouse last year and he brought me that annnnnnd my brother's PS3."
"But do you think he'd get me Jack for my Mom?"
The red haired girl shrugged motioning for Spencer to fetch a sheet of white paper from the art cupboard. "You'll never know until you write him and ask. I'll bet if you do you'll have the best Christmas gift ever!"
Aaron raked this over in his mind. "Yeah," he beamed. "I guess I would. Mom would be really proud of me then and maybe she can help Jack feel better."
"See?" Simon beamed, "It's a win-win situation. Now how should we start this thing?"
"Dear Santa..." He scrawled in red crayon.
"No no..wait." Emily snatched it from him. "Aaron really needs this so you have to address him properly," she explained, flipping over the paper to write 'Dear, Mr. Santa Claus'.
"Show off," Simon muttered, rolling his eyes. She looked back at him dangerously.
"Fine," he seethed. "Dear Mr. Santa Claus."
"I have been a very good boy all year long."
"Except for the time you put jello in Spencer's shoes." Peter pointed out.
"Okay fine," Emily agreed passing the paper to Aaron who preferred to write with his Rugrats pencil over the crayon.
"Dear Mr. Santa Claus, I have been a very good boy all year long except for the time when I put lime jello in Spencer's shoes. I now know this was wrong and I am very sorry." Emily dictated as Aaron scribbled it down in his spidery printing. They spent the rest of the afternoon tossing around ideas of what words would have the most effect in convincing Santa that Aaron needed his help badly. Spencer, who was long since over the jello incident, went as far as consulting a dictionary he borrowed from Mrs. Griffiths desk while the rest of the class settled in to watch Snow Buddies and the original Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer on a mat in the center of the classroom.
"Okay," Emily gave a little nod when Aaron had finished writing. "Let's see what we've got here."
"Dear Mr. Santa Claus,
I have been a very good boy all year long except for the time when I put lime jello in Spencer's shoes. I now know this was wrong and I am very sorry. Everyone always says it is better to give than receive which is why I was wondering if you would help me cheer up the two people I really care about this year? I think the best gift my Mom could ever get is for Jack to get better and come stay with us. I know you usually don't give people as Christmas gifts but I was wondering if you could make an exception in this case? I bet he'll make my Mom happier than anything else I could ever give her so please consider my request. I will leave cookies and milk for you and a carrot for the reindeer on Christmas Eve. Thank you again and have a very merry Christmas with Mrs. Claus and the elves.
Love, Aaron."
"Now all you have to do is mail it." Said Spencer, folding the letter and helping Aaron tuck it into an envelope.
The boy nodded. "I just hope he gets it in time."
"You still have a week to go and you could always make your Mom something in case it doesn't get there or Santa is too busy." Peter suggested.
"Yeah," Aaron sighed. "I guess."
He thanked his friends as he slowly approached Mrs. Griffith's desk and asked permission to put his letter in the big "To Santa" box in front of the school office. She frowned and warned him that the box may already have been taken to the post office but told him to 'hurry on' when he opened his mouth to protest.
Thankfully the box was full making it difficult for Aaron to push it through the slit. He didn't notice how the envelope stuck out at an awkward angle as he turned his back and rushed back to the classroom to see the end of Rudolph. It sailed easily out of the box when Mr. White, the janitor, held open the lobby doors for Mr. Barron's grade six class who were returning from a field trip, riding the gust of wind like a paper plane until it lodged onto the windshield of one of the parent's cars who might have noticed if it hadn't started to rain.
***Christmas Eve***
Jack splashed cold water on his face, intentionally avoiding the pinched expression that was hidden behind the mess of dark scruff across his chin. He fingered it lightly, memorizing the wiry hairs still damp with a wash of cheep whiskey that had caught on his lips. The taste lingered deep in his throat, following a slight burning sensation that left him pleasantly on edge. He didn't dare look up, maybe when he was a little drunker and the beard meant nothing more than a stout growth of hair on his face, but he was sober enough now to know he was hiding behind it.
The television blared drearily in the background making him half forget that he had even bothered to turn it on, but it was enough to make his mind drift. He though of his father, something he rarely did anymore when he was sober. His image, his dusty cynicism, his drinking, all floating by his mind's eye like a black and white movie that made him shudder as he stared down the mirror, only it wasn't his own reflection he was seeing at all, that was his father's too.
"You never did have much luck with the ladies."
Jack looked over his shoulder with a start. That wry smirk. Now not even dust. He glanced toward the shower to see his father's lanky body sitting on the edge of the tube with a falsely put-upon smirk.
"Ghost of Christmas Past, at your service."
He looked just as he always did, dressed to the nines in his suit and sporting a red Santa Claus tie that Jack was sure he had never seen before. The image made his mouth go dry.
"You're. Not. Real." Jack grated the same mantra he always did when his father appeared before him though the man usually never bothered to talk to him and it never happened when he was half sober so this was certainly new.
"Yes, well that's debatable," Christian sighed. "But it doesn't matter, sorry to rush this along but it's the holidays and I'm swamped. We need to talk," the elder doctor asserted as gently as possible.
Jack gave a wary laugh. "I need to have another drink."
The gray haired man looked into his son's bloodshot eyes and frowned. "I think you've had quite enough for both of us son."
"My own father, who hasn't been sober a day in his life, good one Dad."
Christian inwardly squirmed but his expression didn't waver. He pushed himself up from where he was sitting and turned to face Jack. "You're not me." He said curtly.
"You're better than me."
It had the same effect as if he had bothered to splash cold water in his son's face. The man staggered backward in order to get away until the wall blocked his exit. Now he was cornered with one hand still grasping the sink and the other clenched at his side. His knuckles were bleached bone white under the tension.
"What are you?" Jack rasped, trying to regain his composure.
Christian gazed back sympathetically. "A father trying to keep his son from making the same stupid mistakes that he did in life."
Jack didn't quite believe what he was saying, but he didn't open his mouth to protest either. He tried to convince himself that he was just drunker than he thought, more deluded than he thought.
"I'm not going to go away if you ignore me," Christian chided. "You need to set things straight with your family."
That was enough. Jack didn't care anymore. "My family? You are lecturing me about family? Now this is just damn ironic isn't it?" The younger man shook his head. "You're wasting your breath. I'm a screw up just like my old man," he spat. "One big fu*cking screw up."
"I guess that's why Sarah left you than huh?" The gray haired man shoved his hands in his pockets and sat back down on the toilet seat cover.
"You were never home long enough to give a damn about what she wanted. You were too concerned about trying to fix everyone else to even notice that it was you who was broken. That's something you can't fix is it Jack? You couldn't do it on the island, all those lives that were lost be cause you screwed up, and you certainly can't do it now. You're right you know, you should stay as far away from Kate and Aaron as possible. They don't need a screw up like you in their lives."
Jack stared down at the tile, seething as he opened and closed his fists. His heart was beating wild and fast making his cheeks flush from the blood flow. He wanted to hit his father, to punch him so hard that he had to take it back, but somehow he knew he'd be punching at thin air.
"It hurts doesn't it?" Christian observed sadly, watching his son pound the floor until he got it out of his system.
Jack didn't reply. His knuckles stung from the onslaught and he concentrated on the pain instead of looking up. He never wanted to face his father in life and he certainly did not want to do so now.
Christian removed one of his hands from his pocket smoothing out a soggy piece of paper and setting it on the floor beside Jack.
"Despite what you might think they haven't all given up on you." He said evenly.
Curiosity got the better of him and Jack reached for the crinkled mess, narrowing his eyes to read Aaron's messy script. He mulled over it for a long moment, his eyes darting this way and that as his heart rate settled and the blood drained away from his face.
"This can't be right," he rasped. "Why would he...I'm not..."
The older man gave an audible snort and held out his hand to help his son up off the floor. "Jack, I always said you didn't have what it takes to be a hero. It was never because you weren't strong enough or courageous enough to get the job done, but you come down too God damn hard on yourself when things go bad. Now I want you to prove me wrong." He paused. "You've always been a hero in your nephew's eyes and he has too much faith in you to let him down."
Jack didn't take the hand in front of him but he did stand up. "You really think I should go back there?" He whispered.
"I wouldn't be here if I didn't. You two never really knew what to do." Christian sighed. "Look, she loves you, you love her, swell the score, big happy holiday ending."
"Yeah but..."
"Just do it son. Ditch the beard, go by her one of those 'Sorry-I-Messed-Up-Please-Give-Me-A-Second-Chance' Hallmark cards, and go screw her brains out."
"Dad." Jack winced. His father smirked at him and stepped back a few paces.
"For all I know, I could be passed out and..."
"Whatever you want to believe son." Christian shrugged. "But I really have to be going."
"What, you didn't come to warn me of three spirits who have come to help me see the err of me ways?" Jack mused.
His father issued a throaty chuckle. "We're on a tight budget," he huffed. "You'll be fine."
"Yeah, somehow I doubt..." Jack blinked. He was talking to thin air. His expression morphed into a wary smile when he noticed the letter still clasped between his thumb and index finger.
LOSTLOSTLOSTLOSTLOSTLOST
As much as Jack wanted to walk up to Kate's front door, pour his heart out and beg her to take him back, he knew that this was just as much Aaron's show, which is why he went around the back way. In retrospect, he was lucky, very lucky that Kate or any one of the nosey neighbors hadn't seen him slip the key from under the snowman mat and enter the house through the kitchen door. It took every bit of stealth he had not to wake Kate up when he tiptoed up the stairs at 5:30AM toward Aaron's room.
The house really hadn't changed that much. All the pictures, the ugly lamp his mother had given them after he had moved in, everything still laced thick with her sent, the scent of home. There was no time to dwell on every little detail, he slipped into Aaron's bedroom before she woke up and had him arrested for breaking and entering.
The boy was asleep. Sandy hair tussled as he sprawled on his back with one hand grasping the stuffed whale that Jack had given him so many years ago. The doctor felt overcome, he drew in a ragged breath and was no longer sure if he could do this, if he was ready for this. Aaron never left him an option as he struggled awake, yawning widely and looking up at Jack through sleep-crusted eyes which lit up at the sight of him.
"You came! You really came!" Aaron started to shout before Jack silenced him.
"Yeah I really did kiddo."
"Santa got my letter then? Thank you Jack." The second grader leapt out of bed and hugged him.
"Merry Christmas Aaron," he whispered, ruffling the boy's hair. It was at that point that he realized he was crazy to think he could live without this, the way Aaron's face brightened when he hugged him. Jack didn't dwell on it and looked seriously at Aaron as he held up the letter.
"So?" he asked, putting on a serious expression. "This is your gift so where do you want me?"
The boy considered this. "Would you mind sitting under the tree?" He asked.
"No problem," Jack grinned.
"Oh, and hang on." He dove under his bed to pull out a lopsided popsicle stick reindeer that he had wrapped as his 'backup present' and tore the tag and bow off the top.
"I think you'll be too hard to wrap so can I stick these on you?"
Jack dropped to his knees and allowed the boy to stick the red and gold bow on his chest along with a reindeer tag that read 'To: Mom Love: Aaron' in messy printing.
"So do I look festive or what?"
"You look great!" Aaron hugged him again. "I guess you go by the tree and I'll wake mom?" He glanced at his bedside clock. "It's almost 6:00 anyway so I can probably get her up."
Jack's heart skipped a beat as he stood. He wasn't so certain that Kate would be thrilled to see him, but this was Aaron's wish so he gave a brief nod and headed downstairs.
"Mom...Mom come on you gotta get up, it's Christmas!" Aaron exclaimed as he dive bombed onto Kate's bed, jumping up and down until she rolled over to look at him blearily.
"What time is it?" She groaned, feeling the last tendrils of sleep being torn from her. Closing her eyes again would not be an option. She slowly propped herself up on her elbows to appease her excited second grader.
"It's almost 6:00." Aaron whined. "Come on, we gotta open presents. I bet Santa's been here."
"You think so goober?" she chuckled knowingly.
"Yup," he agreed. "And those presents aren't going to sit around all day for us to open them. You not going back to sleep are you?"
"No." She frowned. "I guess I'm not."
Three minutes later Aaron was practically tugging Kate down the stairs and into the living room where he winked at Jack and waited for his Mom to follow. When she did noticed Jack sitting between the package containing Aaron's new remote control helicopter and a box of chocolates from the nanny, she stared at him and rubbed her eyes blinking a little when his image didn't resolve itself.
"Merry Christmas Mom!" Aaron beamed, pointing to the tag on Jack's chest. She glanced from one to the other giving them both an incredulous look.
"Aaron what did you do?" Her voice cracked and Jack stood up, leading her out of the room. He knew this was something he had to do on his own but gave a reassuring wink back at Aaron. Kate dumbly followed.
They stopped at the foot of the stairs with Jack lowering himself to to sit on one of the upper steps and staring up at Kate who instinctively glared at him. He offered her a wary smile.
"It's been a while huh?" He offered sheepishly.
Kate glowered at him. "What are you doing here Jack?"
He gave a little laugh. "According to Aaron, being a Christmas gift." He reached down to remove the little tag and handed it to her along with the letter.
Kate fought the tears welling up in her eyes as she read it. He kept his head low and waited patiently for her to finish, twiddling his thumbs and squeezing the rounded edge of the step he was sitting on. She stared at him hard when she had finished, taking in every little detail about him. He was clean shaven and he did not reek of alcohol, that was a start.
"You came." Her tone softened. She was almost surprised.
"Yeah." He agreed.
"But this doesn't change what happened Jack," Kate warned.
"I don't want it too. Look Kate, I know I've been an ass and that I really messed up big time, but I get it now and I couldn't let Aaron down again. I'm sick of letting people down...I..."
"Just come out and say it Jack," she warned when he started to babble.
"I'm sorry?" he offered.
"Good answer," she sighed, reaching to touch his cleanly shaven chin. "You know, you've always been a natural," she motioned to the bow still stuck to him and then to the living room, "...just unwilling to let yourself believe it."
"Not this time," he countered.
"I'm not going to be a screw up this time around I'm not going to blame myself,"
Kate raised an eyebrow. "I certainly don't know what's gotten into you." She leaned closer so that he could feel her breath mixing with his own it was enough to raise the hairs on the back of his neck. He silenced with a kiss gentle enough to let her know that it was her Jack she was kissing, not a drunk, not a screw up, her Jack.
"Merry Christmas Jack." He turned and for the tiniest of instances and thought he saw his father standing at the top of the steps, then nothing.
"Mom, can't you play with your Christmas gift later? There's still more to open," Aaron protested from the living room where he had been waiting very patiently.
Kate broke away from Jack's lips their foreheads still touching.
"I think I just might," she winked.