Not Just for Christmas

AN: Written for my recipient for the 2016 SpyFest fic exchange, whose request was "Alex adopts an animal". I hope you enjoy it, and Merry Holidays!

Alex crouched behind the tall rock that hid him from the hunter's implacable gaze. He could picture the blank lenses of the night vision goggles, the green glow the hunter would be watching for, waiting for. The M4A1 carbine held loosely in two hands.

The sloping ground was wet underneath Alex, the frigid damp stiffening his feet and joints. That wasn't good – he'd need to be able to run quickly, smoothly to get out of here. He couldn't stay here all night. The hunter was coming closer. Alex heard the whispering steps, the soft slick of boots through wet grass. He didn't know whether it was lucky or not that there was no rain. On the one hand, the wind pushing the sleet horizontal like the night before could set bullets astray; on the other, Alex would be soaked through and unable to move, much less move well. He'd slip and slide as soon as he started to try, and the papers – the evidence – would be ruined. He rued the fact that he'd had to leave behind the mac in the inn on the first night of this mission. For the last few nights, he'd had to take shelter in the ruins of a castle, with only a sleeping bag from Smithers to protect him from the elements.

A rock skittered down the mountain, an interminable rattle that mimicked Alex's heartbeat. Alex paused for a moment – one, two – and then, clutching his arms tightly to his chest for greater momentum, he slid down after the rock.

He had no way of knowing which direction he went, just away from the hunter.

There were kilometres and kilometres of mountain around him, blocking the moon as he slid downwards. Alex felt their dark presence implacable and sombre. There were no roads that went through them, nowhere for him to get out of here, and get back to the bank. Maybe the closest bus stop was back in town – a town with only one road, the main one, going right through the middle – but he didn't know in which direction that was.

Alex came to the foot of the mountain with a splash as his feet plunged into a shallow stream. A flash of light erupted in his mind, a vision, a memory… of a map, swathed in green, with one, small, blue snake sliding across between mountains. Leading to town. Which way? Up, or downstream?

He was still, crouched, picturing the map. The stream… was only a single line near town. Further away, it split – and then he remembered something else: A faint memory, only sound and no vision, of those days back at school. Geography. Tom playing with his ruler and pencils. What was it..?

"Rivers never split; they only converge."

Which meant that when the two lines on the map became one closer to town, that was downstream.

It was a small clue, but the only one he had.

The current of the stream was too weak for him to feel around his ankles, which were numb with cold and protected by his pants and boots, anyway. His fingers were numb, too, but he blew on them and held them under his armpit until they became slightly painful. Then, he stuck them in the stream.

Needles, piercing his skin. But more in a very slight direction.

Alex stood up and ran.

Before coming on this mission, Alex had pored over maps and timetables, in between packing a tall rucksack half the size of his body. He played a backpacker, a keen hiker on holiday from university. Blunt had been very clear that there would be no loud helicopter to rescue him, or obvious troop of soldiers that could start the whole town talking.

There were only three bus stops in town, along the main – the only – road. The buses from out of town came sporadically to the first bus stop, apparently leaving the other two for local transport, though he'd never seen any. On any given day, the bus was either there, or not, with no consistency other than becoming more elusive as the sky got darker.

Alex had read so many timetables and yet forgotten them all, because there were more important things to remember, and he could always take a printout with him, anyway. But one thing had stuck, an oddity he had spotted, and paused for just a second longer:

A single bus, going to the train station every day, without fail, at three o'clock every morning.

As he ran, he checked his watch, shielding the glow so it wouldn't give his position away.

Night vision goggles work in two ways – heat-sensing, or by amplifying traces of light. If the hunter's were the first, he would have been killed almost immediately, unable to hide behind rocks. Down between the mountains, it was pitch black – no residual light penetrated and reflected off to mark him. The hunter would be working by sound, only, and Alex, too. Every time the sound of splashing stopped, he paused, moved around until he heard it again, and resumed.

The blindness would be banished once he got into town, under the street lights, but hopefully with just enough time for him to catch the bus and disappear.

Midnight was often called 'the dead of night', but the fact was that at such a time, one could find others roaming the streets, returning from the town's lone pub. Now was the truer dead of night: in the early hours of the morning, there was no-one. Only frost and ice. Alex stood beside the bus shelter, avoiding the bright lights and trying to relax so his teeth would stop chattering. He gazed out from behind his fringe at the darkness.

There was a rustle beside the shelter. Alex held himself still, but not too still, giving no indication of his notice. He tapped his foot, seemingly impatient.

Another breath of sound came.

Although his posture remained relaxed, his muscles were ready to move immediately.

The bushes twitched, and Alex heard a snuffle.

…What?

Illuminated by the dim lights of the bus shelter, a dark, wet blob poked out, fringed by dark, wet fur, and then two dark eyes. Alex stared at the dog incredulously.

This was what Harry Potter must have felt like, he thought, after being kicked out at the start of third year.

The head of the dog had fully emerged, and Alex saw that its neck was bare. It wasn't growling, just sort of standing there curiously, with its head cocked to one side. As Alex watched, though, an ear flicked and it turned its head away from him, watching something else in the distance.

Alex turned his head, too, and in that movement, he saw the bus arriving, headlights blurred in fog, and then the silhouette of his hunter.

The hunter was closer, but the bus was faster.

When Alex had settled in a seat halfway to the back, he looked back out the window. The hunter was almost upon him, and the dog still sat there in the rain, fur heavy with water.

In the next few seconds, Alex got out of his seat, grabbed the dog, asked permission of the bus driver – he was indifferent – and sat back down.

The agents of the Royal and General were used to seeing many strange things: sodden emo teenagers, teenagers sparkling with the light of a thousand suns (or, really, some sort of Hollywood disguise makeup from Smithers), and teenagers… well, the only teenager who ever entered the bank. Everyone else was completely normal. Ostensibly. Thus, when Alex entered, trailed by a dog that still smelled a bit, only about half the agents stared. The others were more discreet.

Blunt, for all that he was the Head of MI6, was less subtle. In fact, he was really quite… blunt. He stared in disgust at the dog, which Alex had taken to calling 'Snuffles', and then demanded Alex leave the mongrel outside.

Alex sniffed. "And leave him to roam the hallways? Unattended? Would you really prefer that?"

The Head narrowed his eyes, but conceded. "At the very least, he must remain by the door. If he moves an inch, I will trigger the alarm underneath my desk and you can clean up the blood."

"Why, so you do have a secret alarm! Tom owes me three bucks."

The look Alex received was Not Amused.

Snuffles whined piteously when he was led to the door, but nevertheless held the position he'd been given. Alex was gratified by this show of good behaviour, and resolved to buy a pig ear or something on the way home. He'd coo right now, but he didn't think Blunt would appreciate the thanks on his behalf.

When Alex had returned to his seat, Blunt began to talk.

Originally, Blunt had only wanted to debrief Alex, and grant him a holiday – that was one of the arrangements they had come to, when Alex had realised that he had nothing else in life that appealed quite so much as spying, but hadn't wanted to give up his freedom so easily. With the dog, however, Blunt had other concerns.

"How will it be taken care of when you resume missions?"

"Well, can I take him with me?"

A scathing gaze said all the words that needed to be said.

"I can't exactly leave him to fend for himself in my house! He's not as capable as I was at seven." Alex watched Blunt for that small shuffle he always saw when bringing up Ian, or his parents. Blunt may be blunt, and sharp as a clamshell, but he had some heart deep, deep down. The teen wondered if it was a worry for his doctor. Old men were kind of prone to things like heart disease, right?

He glanced over at Snuffles, who lay on the floor, head resting on paws. Alex's own heart melted. "I certainly don't trust you to look after him, so don't you suggest that."

Blunt looked affronted. "I do not –" He carefully composed himself. "I suggested nothing of the sort, Mr Rider." A pause. "Besides, I am more of a cat person."

Alex could imagine it. Don't you dare go near my Snuffles with your dirty cat hands, he thought.

"You can give him to our animal division," Blunt finally said. "They'll be able to take the utmost care of your new… pet… and they might even train it to work in our favour, should anything ever… go wrong."

Now Alex said what he had thought, although paraphrased slightly. "You're not to interfere with Snuffles. You're not going to treat anyone else – people and animals alike – the way you did me when my uncle died. That's the agreement, remember?"

There came that shuffle again.

"Of course," said Blunt, and he inclined his head. "I was merely suggesting that… Snuffles… may do well in keeping you safe, come any attack."

Alex acceded the point. So long as there are no cats.

"In the meantime, go down to Q division before you return home. I am sure Mr Smithers has some gadgets that might suit Snuffles."

The speed of the gadget master's craftsmanship was astounding. Sometimes, Alex wondered whether Smithers watched agents on CCTV whenever he got bored, like watching daytime reality television.

Blunt caught Alex's look of amazement. "Other agents have taken animals on missions before," he said, looking at Alex strangely. "Mr Smithers always maintains various gadgets on hand for various eventualities."

Alex felt his cheeks heat up, and he cleared his throat before standing. "Right," he said. "Well, if that's it…"

The Head of MI6 turned his gaze back down to the papers on his desk, and waved a hand at Alex.

Still blushing furiously, Alex opened the door, let Snuffles out, and followed the dog into the hallway. "Until next time," he said, giving his boss a two-fingered salute.

Snuffles loved pig ears, and raw chicken bones, and raw steak, and rice with eggs… In fact, he loved anything Alex fed him, and more besides, though he wasn't allowed to eat certain things. The problem was that the food inevitably came out again, in the wrong direction, although that wasn't too bad, either. Alex would beg to differ, of course. Someone had toilet-trained Snuffles – and wasn't Alex grateful for that; not having to be awake at all hours, taking Puppy-Snuffles outside for Toilet Time – and Alex merely had to establish the toilet-hole at the bottom of the garden, next to the hedges of Alex's nosy neighbour, and present it to Snuffles, who … snuffled around it.

Alex himself loved going for walks with Snuffles in the early morning – though not as early as the bus he'd taken Snuffles on. The crisp air was refreshing, and Alex didn't feel so silly. He'd done so much purposeful running on missions that when it came to running without an immediate threat, it felt aimless. He hadn't ventured visiting a dog park yet, but he'd taken Snuffles with him to the shops, and to Tom's college (they had to sneak him through the gates), and that was all the places he normally went on holidays, anyway.

One day, behind on holiday also, K-Unit came to visit. Unfortunate.

Of course, Eagle was the first one to spot Snuffles, and he bounded over in excitement. "Hello, doggy!" he cried. "What's your name? My name's Eagle…"

Fox greeted Alex. "Where'd you get the mutt from?"

"He's not a mutt!" said Eagle.

Alex shrugged. "Picked him up on my last mission. Took him to the vet – no owner, no microchip or collar, or anything – she gave him to me."

"Can you even take care of a dog? I remember what happened to that mini cactus I gave you."

"That cactus was dodgy," Alex said. "I swear, it moved its pot out of the sun!"

"Sure," Fox drawled. "Move on, Eagle," he said, "You're blocking the doorway."

Eagle pouted, but stood up and walked into Alex's house, beckoning Snuffles to follow him. With the doorway clear, Fox also entered, followed by Wolf and Snake. Wolf joined Eagle immediately, to pet his fellow canine.

"Is the dog up to date with vaccinations, and medications?" Snake asked Alex.

"Yeah."

"You checked properly?"

"I did everything A division told me to do," Alex said.

"'A division'?"

"Animal division."

"MI6 has an animal division?" Eagle's long ears were pricked like Snuffles'.

"Sure," Alex shrugged, proud at his casual act. "Of course they do – sometimes agents need to take animals as a disguise."

Fox quirked his lips. "I was thinking it was more to do with using them to get into difficult areas, or perform difficult tasks, like drug-sniffing."

Alex hoped his cheeks were as pale as his arse. "That too," he said with great nonchalance.

"Never mind drugs," Eagle said, "What's his name, and can I give him treats?"

"Why, I never thought you'd say that," Fox said sweetly. "I was sure pubescent snorting was what caused you to be the way you are, but now I see it's just how you were born. Are you sure you weren't dropped on your head as an infant, or young child?"

Eagle looked levelly at Fox. "More like snorting in laughter at your face," he said evenly, and turned to Alex, expectant.

Alex sighed. "His name is Snuffles, he has some treats above the kitchen sink, and yes you can give them to him, as long as you ration them out a bit. No more than a handful for the whole of today."

"Treat it as we treat you and sweets," Snake said.

Eagle was very carefully unreactive. Instead, he took Snuffles into the kitchen for the promised treats. Alex watched the two fondly. The main seemed almost as pleased giving the treats as he hound was in receiving them, and Eagle even seemed to be teaching Snuffles to sit, and everything.

Wolf seemed embarrassed that he'd enjoyed petting Snuffles, and so didn't join Eagle. But, while Alex chatted with Fox and Snake, he often caught the man's gaze turning back to the dog. Alex himself felt antsy, watching Eagle play with Snuffles, but it'd been several months since he'd last seen the soldiers, and he didn't want to tear Eagle away.

In the end, they all ended up playing with Snuffles in the garden after lunch. They managed to make a hole through a tennis ball with one of Alex's knives, and threaded a rope through, knotting the end of it.

In between tugging the rope around and throwing it for Snuffles to fetch, Alex caught the quickly-hidden face of his neighbour watching the four burly men with the dog and the teenager. He wondered what she thought of it all.

The sun began to set, and K-Unit had to leave to wherever they went when they were off-duty. In his mind, Alex privately imagined they all lived in the one house with bunk beds, like boarding school boys or K-pop stars. The slim gold ring on Wolf's left hand said differently, however.

Tom came around just as they were leaving, and nodded hello to them. Then for the next hour or so, he and Alex continued to play with Snuffles until the sun had completely set, and they went inside for dinner. Both of them fed the dog scraps under the table and stroked him with their feet.

That night, Tom slept over. Snuffles had been sleeping in Alex's room since he'd been taken home, but this time he acted as a living blanket for Tom.

Alex's bed felt somewhat cold and missed the comforting weight of his canine companion. He found it hard to sleep that night.

All too soon, Alex's holiday was over. The Royal and General called about his finances, and he had to pack everything he'd unpacked when he'd finished his last mission. Not for the first time, he considered just leaving everything packed and having only a few basics always lying around for when he wasn't working.

There was something new, however, in his routine of going back to work: Snuffles. The day Alex went over to the bank to be briefed and to get gadgets from Smithers, he tried to head to A division on the fourth floor, but the lift had not allowed him to stop there. A few enquiries later revealed that they were undergoing renovations – how could an entire division undergo renovation?! – and would not be open again until three months later (more like a year, Alex thought snidely).

Tom, of course, would have loved the joint opportunity to take care of Snuffles and stay in Alex's house (since his parents wouldn't accept a dog, even temporarily). Unfortunately, he was on some exchange in a whole other continent, and thus wasn't available either.

Desperate, Alex got the phone numbers of K-Unit from Smithers, but, perhaps coincidentally, or perhaps not, their working time had resumed just as Alex's had, as, he realised, their holiday had coincided with his. Alex wondered if Blunt's heart was possibly bigger than he'd thought. Maybe it was the size of his finger, rather than his fingernail.

Bereft of any other option, other than some sort of dog-keeping hotel thing – he wasn't going to leave Snuffles with an unknown! – he eventually found himself knocking on his neighbour's door.

Just as the door opened, Alex wondered whether, actually, a dog-keeping business might be better than his neighbour.

She was younger than he'd imagined, although the pinched look on her face and her wide eyes gave her some sort of… failed-plastic-surgery look. He didn't want to judge.

"Hello," he said in his polite, responsible voice. Snuffles sneezed.

She stared at him.

"I'm sure you've seen me before – I live next door."

The lady nodded once, sharply. Alex wondered whether he'd said something wrong, or if it was a positive sign.

"Anyway, you know I have a dog –"

A nod, yes.

"And that sometimes I'm away for somewhat long periods of time."

He wondered whether her mute stare was telling him something. Like, Get on with it.

"Well, those two responsibilities are coinciding, and so I have a dog that needs taking care of, but I also need to be away, to do… stuff."

Finally, the woman opened her mouth. "Why didn't you consider that when you got the dog?"

Alex also opened his mouth again, then closed it, and then opened it once more. "I did," he said.

And? The woman's gaze said silently.

"But Snuffles needs me!"

She glanced at Snuffles, sitting at Alex's feet.

Snuffles looked appropriately hangdog.

"I don't want your drug mule," she said.

"He's a dog, not a donkey –"

"And since you're here, I want to tell you to keep your special friends to yourself, too. Don't go parading them in broad daylight."

"Well, I never!" Alex was so offended that he'd closed the door, gone back to his own house, and pulled the curtains shut before he realised that he hadn't actually refuted her assumption. Oh, well. It was close enough.

That still left Snuffles.

Blunt was just as disdainful as he'd been last time Alex brought Snuffles into his office. At least, however, he didn't call the dog an ass, at he let Snuffles in to lie on the carpet by the door. And, though it was what had led to Alex's current problem, being a branch-off from Alex's career, at least Blunt realised that the sake of the world came before the sake of the dislike of dogs. He hadn't said he disliked dogs, anyway. He'd just said cats were better.

"I'm sure you and Mrs Jones will be fine," Alex said soothingly. "Snuffles is very well-behaved, and look how nice his fur is!" It was certainly better than the sodden matted mess that had appeared before Blunt earlier. "It takes hardly any grooming."

"I'm sure," Blunt said delicately. He sniffed.

Alex sighed. "You're not allergic, are you? Because I don't want you putting your health before the sake of my dog. Why, that would be almost as bad as putting the life of a teenager at risk for the sake of trying to recruit him!"

Blunt shuffled, and shook his head.

"Am I dismissed, then?"

"You are dismissed."

Alex handed Blunt Snuffles' carry-bag, as well as his care-hamper. There was the tough blanket which had come from an army surplus store as well as a sawn-in-half portable cot, the tennis-ball-on-a-rope that K-Unit had made, some treats, the braided leash and collar Tom made from free lanyards gotten at various university events, and poop bags, among other things.

He bent down to hug Snuffles and wish him goodbye. The fur around Snuffles' eyes was wet, and he wondered if dogs could cry, or whether that was just normal. A pang hit his heart when he remembered he couldn't just drop into the vets like he normally did when these things occurred to him. He'd have to trust Blunt, and Mrs Jones, which made him think – were peppermints bad for dogs? Yet another question that would have to wait until he returned.

His voice caught when he said goodbye, and as if sensing what was happening, Snuffles' normally supersonic tail ceased wagging, and his almost-silent high-pitched whining filled the air. Even Blunt looked uncomfortable – almost as much as when Alex made particularly pointed jabs about his ruined childhood.

"Be good for me, yeah?" he said to Snuffles. "And to Blunt. He can't help the name or face he was given."

Snuffles ducked his head, and gazed solemnly up at Alex.

"And make sure you help him with taking care of you. Don't let him give you too many treats, and try not to dig too many holes. Unless he's planting trees, or something." He looked over at Blunt, who normally tried to hasten him onto his mission as soon as he was briefed. The man was signing paperwork with a stiff hand. "Maybe you can take him on walks," he said to Snuffles. "Take care of him so his heart doesn't explode and have to have surgery."

Alex patted Snuffles for a while more, silently, and then he sighed, and stood up. "Okay," he said, "Where's my ride, then?"

He very carefully did not look back as he exited the room.

Alex huddled in the small shelter he'd made from compacted snow, trying to get his signalling equipment to work. There was a huntress after him, armed with throwing stars, and rocket-propelled-grenades, of all things.

The light was somewhat dimmed in his little hole, but outside the snow refracted all the light, creating a blinding glare that had given him sunburn after the first week.

Surrounded by the insulating snow, Alex was mostly warm. He'd been wearing ski clothing over a skivvy and jeans, but now he took the jacket, beanie, and gloves off. If he sweated too much, then the sweat would make him that much cooler when he ventured into the wind again.

Before, he'd thought he could hear the huntress, slithering on her skis over the white powder, searching for him, but now all he could hear was the wind whistling.

He looked up. The sky was clear blue, with not a cloud in sight.

A single light from his equipment bought his attention back to the mission. The signals had managed to align for a moment, and his high-speed tech had managed to use that instant to send all the data he'd collected straight to Smithers. No more dangers of dying without telling MI6 what he knew.

That just left his escape. He'd actually planned on skiing that day, taking it easy and enjoying the place where he was staying. The food was great, the baths utterly relaxing, and the powder – well, they didn't call it 'powder heaven' for nothing.

After a breakfast of soup and seafood, he'd headed out to the lifts, which was where he'd been spotted. Just at the top, she'd seen him and somehow realised what he'd been sent to do. He tried to send his information just before he escaped her but, luck of all luck, the equipment had glitched just when he needed it. So he'd gathered his stuff, clicked his boots into the skis, and slid off.

Which led him to now.

Even though she was an unparalleled huntress, moving silently, his equipment didn't need connections to detect another person moving about near him. She'd left the area.

He waited about half an hour longer, and then he climbed out of the shelter.

A quick glance around confirmed the equipment's information.

Once again, Alex clicked his skis on, put on his jacket, and began to move down the mountain, picking up speed quickly.

There was no warning before he was hit.

Back at Point Blanc, he'd gone through a wire fence after snowboarding on top of a train, evading the people chasing him. They hadn't been so lucky, and had hit the train, dying instantly.

This felt almost like that. One moment there was white snow, few trees, and blue sky. The next, his vision was filled with white all around, and he felt himself tumbling, not knowing which way was up. The sound was like the roar of an ocean, a muted rumble. Surely his skis had detached from the boots by now. He hoped they would lead someone – a rescuer, not the huntress – to wherever he eventually ended up.

White became blue, and he found himself surrounded by snow, refracting light all around. Silence deafened him. He tried to move, but the snow only compacted further.

Was the blood rushing to his head from gravity, or from fear?

Alex tried to cry for help, but his voice failed him.

There was a whimpering sound, and he realised it was him.

Was this it?

He didn't know how the time was passing, didn't know how long he had left.

There were always the stories – people going off-piste, getting caught in avalanches – but one never thought it would happen to them. He had the devil's luck, everyone always said. An avalanche was too random, too normal, and yet not normal at all.

What was Tom doing at this moment? Alex wished he could have said goodbye. To him, to K-Unit, to Snuffles… Even to Blunt. He'd never actually thanked the man for agreeing to take care of his dog.

Alex tried to move his arm again, to look at his watch, but it was held in place by the snow. It was powder! It should have been soft, and fluffy, not like cement!

His hand was cold… Why was it cold? He wiggled his fingers, and realised his glove had come off. Maybe that would be a marker! The huntress could still find him.

There was a scraping sound. Alex held his breath.

Silence.

He waited.

There it came again. It was coming from under his feet – for an absurd moment, Alex wondered if there were moles, and then he realised he must have been the wrong way around.

The scraping was getting louder, and he imagined the light was getting brighter from below.

When Alex was finally pulled from the tonne of snow under which he'd been buried, he almost cried, but scrubbed his face with a frozen hand.

Tom, who had come with the rescue team, also scrubbed his face, and hugged Alex hard. "See if I let you go travelling without me again," he said. "You have all the fun while I have to study."

Alex laughed and sobbed at the same time.

"You haven't said hi to me and Snuffles yet, you bastard," Tom said.

"Hi," Alex said. "What are you doing here, then, bothering me on my trip?"

"I came to surprise you. Thought I could meet up with you when you finished your mission and you could show me the best places around here."

"But how did you know where I was?"

Tom smiled. "Oh, you know, Blunt's not such a heartless man. You just have to give him puppy-dog eyes and he'll do anything for you."

"And tell him you'll take Snuffles off his hands, right?"

"Right," Tom grinned.

The two of them looked down at the dog, which sat at their feet, eating several handfuls of treats given by the appreciative rescue team. It turned out that the few lessons the A division had given Snuffles before their renovation had been very well taken to, and Snuffles had been able to sniff Alex out from underneath all the snow in two minutes flat.

"He's a good dog, isn't he?" Tom said fondly.

"Yeah," said Alex, unable to stop the smile spreading over his face. "He'll do."