A picture, to Izzy, was worth more than almost anything. A few things were worth more, of course- family, time, weapons, to name a few. Memories, for another.

But nothing could compare to the picture in her hands.

When Alec was little, he had been much happier. Not quite so dark, or so antisocial. He had been playful, hardworking- he still was that, at least- welcoming, warm. But all of that warmth and happiness eventually disappeared, when Alec learned how to hide, and how to lie. He learned more about himself, things, Izzy was sure, he wasn't proud of.

Eventually he got over it, of course, but he wasn't the same after those six years of self-loathing and inner pain. He still was antisocial and quiet, even though he was freer and more open. He still dressed in all black, with the occasional gray, blue or dark green. But never anything brighter than the blue of his eyes, and even then it was a small accessory, such as a tie or something.

When Izzy thought about it, and really looked at her brother, it made her sad, and she would wonder what happened, even though she already knew.

That was why the picture she held was so important. Alec was about eight in the picture, standing in front of the Institute in short jeans and a neon green shirt, with sandals. He was smiling, really smiling, which was another rarity, and one tooth was missing in the front. His dark hair was out of his face, cut short. Izzy couldn't recall that last time it had been that short, and couldn't really see Alec's smile ever being quite that bright again.