Visions of a Winter Scene

Disclaimer: I do not own the Incredibles or any of the characters there within.

One December found Nomanisan Island to be a place of a not so white Christmas. The tropical climate allowed for no white merriment in this part of the world. It appeared that the only thing to be affected was the temperature—from a usual ninety degree forecast to a whopping sixty-eight degrees outside. The day was somewhat grey; the sun's great face marred by so many clouds. Only a few warm rays of sunshine penetrated the gloom.

All of the outside world went unnoticed within the confined expense of one carefully maintained office.

Amid the silence of towering papers stacked high and a single tablet to log reports sat a long-haired blonde, deep in concentration. One hand was placed on her chin to support an elegant face with that silky white-blonde hair tumbling down to one side as the rest cascaded down her back. Her lithe legs were crossed comfortably at the ankle beneath her, as she leaned slightly forward over her work; her other hand scrawled down information quickly and without tire. Her brilliant emerald eyes sternly assessed several of the papers as she continued to compound information into the little computerized notebook.

Nothing else in the world seemed to exist as she worked—focused only on the materials before her. Seconds, minutes, hours may have passed without her notice.

She paused for a moment to tuck a few unruly strands of hair behind an ear and poised her hand once again over the report when the phone rang.

Not missing a beat, she quickly saved all of the information to be downloaded into the large database later and nimbly snatched up the phone with her free hand. Her eyes caught the number of who was calling and she relaxed, though only slightly.

"This is Mirage. How may I be of service?"

Her voice tumbled beautifully over the phone and her savory salutation was met with amused laughter.

"Relax Mirage, you know it's me and I know that you are fulfilling your role as Miss Workaholic. Why don't you take he break?" he sighed in mock exasperation.

Mirage smiled softly to herself as she released the pen she had been holding; only realizing now that her hand had cramped somewhere in the duration of the repot. She turned her swivel chair on its axis easily and moved to stand, distractedly flexing her sore hand.

"There is still work to be done." She complemented quietly, unable to keep a small touch of fatigue from her voice. There was a soft sigh over the phone as his voice lowered to soft remorse.

"I've been working you too hard…" there was a pause over the line. His voice returned with a renewed strengthened. "Listen. Drop whatever it is you've been doing and meet me in my office," his voice hinted at a thrilled excitement, "I have a surprise for you!"

Mirage's eyes widened slightly, even as the ring tone gave that long drone that she was the only one left on the line. She replaced the phone slowly, standing still for a moment.

A surprise for her? What could this mean?

Mirage gathered up her report and pen, leaving the many papers, still unfinished, behind. The report, on the other hand, she took everywhere; she had come to feel incomplete without it.

Leaving her office, Mirage was assailed with noise as several soldiers shoved past her on their way to the outside. She could feel an air of exhilaration running through the throng. The men jostled by her in their hurry and only a few polite ones mumbled an apology. Mirage shook off the impolite shoves and made her way to the elevator.

Once inside, she hesitantly pressed the button to the top floor; one rarely used as it obviously protruded out farther than the rest of the buttons.

"Ms. Mirage! Have you seen it?" One soldier hailed her. When her look of confusion halted him in his pass, he skidded to a stop.

He clapped one hand over his mouth, grinning moronically at a near slip up.

"Oh, never mind," he stuttered as the elevator doors closed. "Enjoy the ride up!"

Mirage had half a mind to reopen the elevator doors and interrogate the soldier, but the elevator was already two floors up from her office and the soldier would probably be long gone.

The elevator gave a slow ascent, giving Mirage the time to reflect on the present, but her mind wandered instead to the past. Something of a distant memory recollected steadily in her mind; snow. Snow falling in sheets from the sky—each flake a little angel that fell gracefully from the heavens; the one time of the year that the world was blessed with an angelic presence. Mirage found she missed those winter evenings with her family; whether they were out building forts in the snow or inside warming themselves by the fire. The season had always brought her family together.

She sighed, unconsciously biting her lower lip as she recalled one story she had related to Syndrome.

He had had a trip to take to the mainland to retrieve his super suit from the illustrious Enda Mode; designer of the greatest super suits around. No one seemed to match her divinely profound capabilities. Syndrome had wanted an escort to the mainland and the first person he came to was her. Mirage agreed to the trip, a well needed break from her duties was surely in order.

Mirage remembered the lovely, if not massive estate of Ms. Mode and how the entire area was enveloped with a brilliant white. Even through the grey clouds that hovered constantly overhead, the manor was beautiful. While she and Syndrome waited for the anticipated suit within the confines of the mansion, Mirage stood in the wake of an overly large window, gazing out into the world of white. Syndrome came to stand silently beside her with only a soft greeting. She nodded her head to him in acknowledgment, but did not stray her eyes from the white. He took her silence well, she mused thoughtfully; thankful that he would allow her time to appreciate the weather she had been denied on the island.

Mirage suddenly felt prompted to reveal a precious story to him; where the feeling had come from she did not know, only that she was compelled to speak of it. She opened her mouth to express the pressing interest and Syndrome gave her his full attention.

"My father and I used to spend the early evenings on walks through the snow. When I was little he used to carry me on his shoulders and make airplane noises while I would pretend to shoot down enemy planes," Mirage laughed easily to herself, not quite seeing the knowing grin on Syndrome's face. "When I was older and too big to ride on my father's shoulders; we would just walk together and get into the occasional snowball fight. I once hit him on the back of the head with a snowball and he and his hat went tumbling to the ground. I was afraid that I had hurt him and I rushed to his side to see if he was all right. The moment I reached him he tackled me to the ground and tickled me until I was breathless. I never forgot that day…"

Her smile fell away as her eyes glazed over. "And then my father passed away; crushed in a building that had collapsed during an attack of the city's worst foe. The Super had torn out the main beam that kept the structure standing and it…it just came down. The Super was successful in his conquering of the criminal, but while everyone cheered his triumph, my father lay somewhere bent and broken among the rubble. I never received even so much as an apology." Mirage shut her eyes to control her emotions and keep her composure in check before she continued. "…I would still take my walks in the snow, every winter, except I would walk alone. I came to accept the solitude; came to appreciate the cold; came to affiliate the snow with the best and worst of my memories. But that is all in the past," she tore her eyes finally away from the white outside to smile sadly at the intently listening Syndrome, "and there is nothing to change it."

Syndrome seemed too overwhelmed to speak; this trust of such a personal story touched him she saw. She suddenly felt terribly self-conscious, as though she had exposed too much of herself. Syndrome came forward and he opened his mouth to speak to the distraught blonde when an attendant of Ms. Mode came forward with his super suit finished at last. The moment ruined and Mirage suavely smiling away her cares and woes, the two of them boarded the plane back to Nomanisan.

She still loved the snow, but she had pushed it from her mind. A tropical island did not allow for her longed after walks of solitude in the blissful silence. The birds were always twittering and the insects were always buzzing—the island full of life. A white Christmas was simply implausible; simply too much to ask for.

Mirage was shaken from her reverie by a startling ting that signaled the elevator had reached its final destination; the doors hissed open softly for her. She stepped from the doors as they closed behind her and the only way the elevator could go was down.

Pushing through the two elegantly carved doors, Mirage gazed around the room in surprise. The sheer expanse of it always took her breath away. However, all of the shades were drawn closed and the room was dark save for a few soft lights scattered here and there.

Mirage took a few measured steps forward before she was hailed to stop.

Her green eyes searched for the source to find a smartly dressed Syndrome—no—Buddy Pine in evening attire. The mask he usually donned was absent and somehow he looked to have more boyish charm than usual.

He smiled warmly at her, approaching the blonde tentatively as if he were about to ask the most beautiful girl at school to prom.

"Hello, Mirage."

The white-blonde was unsure of how to react, so she just stood there numbly as he approached. When he was a mere arms breadth from her, his eyes surveyed her quickly. She gazed back in subtle confusion, still unawares of why he had called her here. Buddy shook his head as though brushing off the effects of a lingering dream.

"Oh, right, my surprise for you."

He whipped out a remote from somewhere in the depths of his fine clothes and the minute grinding of gears drew back all of the shades in one sweep. The room was filled with light from the brightness outside; an unusual brightness. Mirage could not help the drop of her jaw at the brilliance of it all.

Snow!

Snow on the rafters, on the mountainside, on the trees, on the plants—snow falling all around them.

Mirage walked unsteadily to the windows, any sudden movement might wake her from this dream. Buddy followed inconspicuously behind. She placed her hand on its glassy surface. It was cold to the touch.

The island had been transformed. Everything had a fresh powder of white—so new, untouched, beautiful. Every detail, every image she committed to her memory. It was simply breathtaking.

Buddy now stood beside her.

"It's for you, all of it."

Mirage sighed in amazement before she turned her gaze to Buddy.

"…How?"

He shrugged innocently as though this was nothing compared to some of his other more difficult inventions.

"Just a little weather device. It pulls down cold air from the atmosphere and concentrates that air into a very cold precipitation and voila! You have snow!"

Mirage smiled warmly at him, on the borderline of deep admiration.

"It's my gift to you. All I ask in return is one…small thing…"

She looked over at him questioningly, but his eyes were looking up. In curiosity, she followed his devious gaze to a small plant of green and red.

A cheery little mistletoe hung over their heads.

They glanced back at each other at the same time. He smiled sheepishly, but not with regret. He had planned this all along. She smiled at him warmly.

"Thank you," she murmured, drawing closer to him and going up on tip-toe. She shut her eyes and gave him a feather-light brush of her lips against his. When she pulled away, Buddy's face was as red as the berries of the mistletoe overhead. Mirage chortled softly behind one hand—even the great mastermind of invention could be as shy as a lamb.

The bravery of the moment seemed to be shocked out of Buddy and he suddenly turned away in stark embarrassment and perhaps even a touch of fear. He took a few steps forward and Mirage could see his shoulders betray a small tremble. She followed him softly, placing an elegant hand on his shoulder. His eyes turned to meet hers, soft brown meeting emerald. He was ashamed of his sudden embarrassment, she knew, but something else in his eyes prompted her to study further. He looked at her with the tortured failure of a child's life gone awry, to twist and gnarl him into ruin as a man. He had been hurt deeply.

The thought tore at Mirage. She came to stand before him, her eyes never leaving his, moving again to tip-toe.

Their lips met for a second time, away from the safety of the innocent dash of holly, venturing in tentative steps, why a kiss is so sought after. Their relationship of title and status shattered in those lingering moments and deepened just as the kiss deepened. A new level of trust, of emotion, of power had been formed.

When they parted, short of breath and panting slightly, Syndrome smiled at her tenderly and she could do naught but return it. There was a short pause in which neither of them spoke. Buddy was the first to come out of the dazed ambience.

"Ah, I am not positive how long the snow will last;" he moved to stand before one great window, "doubtless that the volcano is melting the mountainside as we speak. You had better get outside before it all disappears." He smiled knowingly over at her from the window side. "I know how much you enjoy those solitary walks in the snow."

He seemed to collapse into himself emotionally and said no more. Mirage stepped toward him, taking his hand in hers.

"I wouldn't mind the company." She squeezed his hand briefly for emphasis and he brightened at the sentiment.

"All right," he agreed, his voice taking on a sort of boyish semblance and he took the lead for the both of them. "I've been wanting to throw a few snowballs at the airmen since the layer of snow has been thick enough. Let's go!"

They entered the elevator together and rode it down to their world of white.


A/N: AHH! This story is so horribly late I wouldn't be surprised it people came at me with candied hearts and chocolate roses and beat me over the head with them! In truth, I had a nasty sort of writer's block in one place (Mirage narrating her snow story to Syndrome…) I had to give a feeling of why Mirage loved the snow as well as a reason behind why she might have felt inclined to aid in Syndrome's plan to dispose of all Supers (and also how to go about the entire mistletoe scene without going too over the top)—so an idea finally came to me and I finally came back to finish this piece (which I actually started December 13th). I am SO sorry that this is so late and I hope that everyone read this and liked it anyway!

I hope that this story had a more original sense to it—nothing that is too predictable because those bore me to death and I would hate to do that to my readers. I wanted to have some traditional mixed with something new and I hope that came across well with everyone!

I also sincerely hope that the flavor of this fic isn't ruined because some of you folks might still have some snow. I myself, on the other hand, live on an island and can sympathize with a no snow holiday. Oh well, I survived it.

So a late Merry Christmas (among all those other holidays!) and Happy New Year to you all!

Please review!

Blackfire 18