Winter Petals

Winter Petals (one-shot)

Dedicated to S — for being incredibly supportive as my hands shook on my teacup while telling you this story. (I never read my fics to anyone)! I would never have been brave enough to put this up here if it weren't for you. And yes — "Fear doesn't shut you down, it wakes you up," — I know, but thanks anyway.

Olivia faced the frosted-over rock on the top of the hill, and she was kneeling down in the snow. Her hair cascaded in a wavy brown sheet down her back, and she was wearing a blue coat. In her hands was a daisy, and she picked off the petals, slightly clumsily in her gloves. She repeated a phrase over and over.

"He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not. This is just a silly game for children. He loves me. This isn't going to make him come back. You're going crazy, stop talking to yourself. He loves me." She looked down at the flower in her hands, and scowled at a solitary petal, which was all that was left of it. "Damn daisies. It's just a game."

Even so, she was reluctant to pluck the final white petal, and when she did so, her face dropped as if she were disappointed. "He loves me not."

A deep but tentative voice sounded from behind her. "You missed one."

She turned around, alarmed, only to see none other than Jacques Snicket standing in the snowy clearing. In his gloved hand was a tiny white teardrop of a petal. "He loves you."

Olivia got up from her daisy-searching position and stared at him. For a few moments, they watched eachother, their breath visible in the crisp, chilling air. Then Olivia stepped forward, and touched the petal with one fingertip. Slowly, she unfurled all of her fingers into Jacques' glove and he closed his fist, gripping her hand, and pulled her into a hug.

She rested her head on his broad shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck. She'd never done this to him before but somehow, it seemed all so natural. He held her firmly around her back as if he was scared that if he let go, she'd disappear into thin air.

"How'd you do it?" Olivia raised her head to look at him. "Survive, I mean."

"I know what you mean." Jacques released her and sat down in the snowbank, and she followed. He took off one of her gloves and placed the petal in the other, holding her one bare hand in his. Olivia laughed softly. "It's cold," she argued, smiling. "My hand needed that glove."

"Want me to let go?"

Olivia looked down at her hand in his and shook her head. "No thanks," she said. "I think I'll survive. And about surviving—" She looked at him expectantly.

"You know how Snickets are with faking their deaths. We're very good at it. Lemony has evaded capture for sixteen years. All it took was some fake blood and a well-rehearsed dead face." He demonstrated, not being serious, and Olivia began to laugh.

Still holding her hand, he sound his free arm over her shoulders and she almost instinctively leaned into him. Jacques slipped her hand back into its glove and gently kissed her forehead. Olivia didn't flinch (with a lot of effort) but she couldn't control the blush that spread warmth and a bright rush of pink onto her already-rosy-from-the-cold cheeks. Jacques laughed at her and kissed the tip of her nose.

It was Olivia's turn to tease his hesitation, and then she kissed him properly. Despite sitting in a snowbank, the two were warm to the core and happy to stay there forever, not talking, but enjoying each other's company nonetheless.

Olivia stood up and pulled Jacques with her. "Come on," she said, "my house has tea, a fireplace and a spare bedroom. Unless you'd prefer another arrangement." Her eyes, previously soft, had acquired a bold glint. Jacques nodded. "Any arrangement. And tea sounds wonderful, as does a fireplace."

They laced their fingers together, Olivia still grasping the petal in one hand, and tripped down the hill to the promise of warmth, refreshments, and good company.