Rating: PG-ish

Disclaimer: Not mine, no matter how much I wish he was...

Summary: MI6 can change everything, even the perfect, glittering masterpiece of snow. Promptshot, written for The Firm's Prompt Challenge, April.

Word Count: 527

Status: Complete

When she was growing up, Jack had seen and played in only a very few snows. Southern Virginia very seldom had more than a few inches at a time, and the snow never lasted more than a day or two.

Jack had loved the snow, back when she first moved to England. She’d loved the way it glistened in both sunlight and moonlight, and how it crunched under her feet when she played outside with Alex.

Alex had loved the snow, too. Possibly even more than Jack did. He’d seemed to have a sort of built-in radar or something, because every time fresh snow fell overnight, Alex would wake Jack up early in the morning, dragging his snowsuit behind him on the ground, and begging her to go out and play with him.

And she had loved that such a simple thing as snow flakes could work together to make such a beautiful, glittering whole.

The thing that she had loved the most about the snow was how adorable Alex had been with his fair little cheeks flushed with the cold air, and his brown eyes sparkling under his hood.

Even Ian steadfastly refusing to play in the snow when he was home wasn’t enough to diminish Jack’s perpetual joy in the winter.

But now… now Jack hated the snow. The crunching sound under her feet grated on her nerves now.

The reflection of the sun on the snow hurt her eyes, now.

She understood now why Ian had always hated the snow. It was because they sucked the good out of anything and everything, and all that was left was the memories of the good, the before. Really, the good memories made everything worse.

They say that the good memories will help through the tough times, but Jack always responded to that with, “Screw that.” Remembering the good things just reminded her of how much her life had changed for the worse.

It hurt to remember how pretty the snow used to look, because now it was cold. Cold and impersonal and detached. For her, it had last its magic long ago.

But the thing that she hated the most about snow now was the thing that she had loved the most.


No longer was he a happy little cherub Alex playing in the snow with a bright little laugh.

Now he was spy Alex, and walking hunched over in his coat, he blended in almost perfectly with her new view on snow.



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