Montana

By Holdur

Notes: Started and supposed to be posted around Christmas. Finished far too late.

Written for doctorwho100

Jack's been craving snow.

He can tell that Jack's been craving snow because Rose has been complaining that she's cold and something's wrong with the heating and he's been finding bits of tinsel in the corners of the TARDIS. He brushes pine needles off the console and remembers a time, not so many lives ago, when she wasn't nearly so precocious.

Fine, he thinks, but next time your wiring's shot, don't complain to me. A thrumming purr and a whisp of old music and he is only slightly mollified.

Jack strolls in, with his mind fairly shouting carols as loud as it can.

"Could you keep it down?" he asks, "Or at least on key?" The carols cut off abruptly.

"What?"

He shakes his head at the console, flips one last switch and there is a short jolt that nearly throws Jack to the floor.

"Right," he says, "Mind yourself, and if I find you've dripped water into her wiring on your way back in then you can fix her." Jack hovers, looking uneasy and he waves the man towards the doors without bothering to look up. There is a blast of truly cold air and he sneaks a peek sidelong to watch Jack in the doorway. Jack's astonishment and happiness spark through the air and hit him behind the eyes, making him see silver and white for a minute before he can brush it away.

"Where are we?"

"Montana," he grumbles "Or at least, it will be." He's still a bit preoccupied with trying to brush the psychic equivalent of tinsel out of his mind.

"Montana never looked like this." Jack nearly trembles with disbelief.

At that, he is suddenly at ease. His vision clears and he straightens, suddenly aware that he had been hunching. His shoulders fall back and his head comes up and he can feel a smile tugging to shine through.

"And you call yourself a time agent." He wanders forward to lean against the door as Jack steps out into the snow. It is deep and untouched and so bright that it hurts to look at.

Jack's breath mists about him and in that moment he is clear and brilliant among the crisp lines of snow. Not for the first time, he wishes that he weren't just a traveler, passing through. Jack's joy in almost physical and he wishes that he could stop time in this moment where what he has lost is not so important as what he has given.

Jack crouches and it takes him a moment to realize that Jack is surreptitiously gathering snow between his hands.

"Oi!" he calls, far too late, "If you're not careful I might just leave you here." But as one snowball hits him squarely on the shoulder and another two fly past and into the TARDIS, missing him completely, he's pretty sure that it was worth it.