To call this merely a pond is a gross understatement.

"This is …" he trails off.

The body of water itself is frozen solid, coated in a layer of frost and windswept snow that ghosts across the surface in the slight breeze. It's surrounded on one side by the sparse grove of trees they've just passed through, and on the other side by a cliff-face of cracked shalestone, stacked some 10 metres tall, which towers imposingly over their heads. A cascade of multiple frozen waterfalls covers the surface like icy curtains suspended in time. The majestic columns of frozen water form layered icicles that hang in midair, shimmering in the sunlight like frozen diamonds encrusting the ragged edges of the shalestone cliff. It is simply magnificent, and he comes to a dead stop at the sight.

"Yeah," Rose says, almost breathlessly, standing at his side and staring up at the sight beside him. He glances down at her, and she up at him, giving him a slow smile. Still awestruck, he holds her gaze, watching her smile grow bigger and brighter, then grins back down at her. After a moment, she motions to a nearby rock, upon which she sits and begins to change into her skates. He turns back to the waterfall and stands there just a bit longer, breathing in the view, barely able to take his eyes from it.

"I bet it's gorgeous in the summer," he says, finally taking a seat beside her, imagining how this place comes alive when the weather warms and the sparse collection of trees surrounding the waterfall are green and full.

"It is," she smiles. "You should see it - well ... I mean … if you were ever up here again, you could - or I could send you a picture."

He doesn't know quite how to respond to that. He knows - intellectually, he knows, of course - that he's only booked 12 weekends here, that 6 have already flown by so much quicker than he ever could have expected, and really, what reason does he even have to return after Chamonix, when his need for lessons will be complete? He certainly has no plausible reason whatsoever to return once the snow melts, once this place that he only knows through the lens of frost and ice begins to turn warm and blossom with the promise of spring. He'd spent his whole life without ever once coming to this area before booking his lessons, and he knows the chances that he'd have a reason to come back anytime soon are slim to none. Something flips over in his stomach at the thought, something he can only characterize as uncomfortable, and he gazes mutely at the shalestone.

Rose falls silent for a moment as well, the air between them having grown heavier and a little somber. Her smile fades, her eyes dropping to her laces as she leans over and slowly begins to tie them.

"I heard fishing's good around here," he says, feeling ridiculous as soon as the words leave his mouth.

"You fish?" she says, sitting up suddenly and facing him, her hands paused mid-tie on her skate's laces, a smile on her face which he's not sure looks more hopeful or more incredulous.

"Well… I could," he stutters, and she laughs, sounding delighted. He can't explain it even to himself, but somehow he feels relaxed, and smiles back at her broadly.

"I used to fish, with my dad, when I was young," he says. "If you know any good places around here, perhaps in the spring we can -"

He cuts himself off as her eyes fall from his again, back down towards her skates. His stomach drops again, nervous, realizing he'd presumed that she'd even want to. He says nothing, but inhales so deeply that the frosty air sticks uncomfortably in his lungs the way any further words seem to be sticking in his throat. They've become friends now, and so of course he wants to spend time with her, but she's still his instructor and perhaps she has no interest in -

"I'd love to," she says, softly and somewhat hesitantly, interrupting his thoughts. "I just don't know if I'll still - I just … I know that gramps talked to you. About uni, I mean. I just didn't know if you still were willing to-"

"Do you want me to help you get in?" he asks, turning to face her. He exhales the breath he's been holding, and it feels almost like relief.

"I was … looking into it a bit, I guess? Most of my mates from around here go down to London to work as trainers after ski season is over here, there's a big indoor ski arena skiers use for training, about an hour outside the city … I mean, they always ask me to come but I - I've never done it before because of gramps, but he wants me to go to school and I was thinking I could earn some money that way…" her words come out in a rush, and she suddenly pauses, looking up at him once again, her gaze meeting his own.

"I mean … I wouldn't ask but you'd offered before, and … only if you want to, I don't want to put you out-"

"Rose," he says, turning towards her, placing his hand gently on her shoulder. "I want to help you. I meant every word I said - you're brilliant."

Her face breaks into a smile then, a wide grin that brings out the sparkle in her eyes, and his hand moves to her jawline for a moment, his woolen-gloved thumb grazing affectionately over the apple of her cheek. He thinks it could be his imagination, but she seems almost to lean into his palm slightly as she gazes back up at him.

"Applications are usually due in January, most schools won't have Open Days until the spring - but a good friend of mine works at one of the universities in London that recruits students without A-levels, and I'm sure he'd agree to give you a tour if I ask," John says. He gives a little shrug as his hand falls back into his lap, making a mental note to contact Jack as soon as he gets back to London on Monday.

"You might need to take come catch-up classes over the spring, but you'd be able to start in the fall if you wanted - I honestly can't see how they wouldn't take you, Rose." He gazes intently at her, meaning every word, and she beams back at him, then wraps her arms around him, pulling him in for a hug.

"Thank you," she murmurs into his shoulder, and he smiles into her hair as he puts his arms around her and embraces her in return.

They skate for the next hour, carving inelegant swirls and loops into the surface of the undisturbed pond with the blades of their skates. He hasn't been skating since he was a child, and neither one of them is particularly good, but that doesn't make it any less fun as they circle together on the ice, occasionally grabbing onto the other's arm for support as they try several times - unsuccessfully - to avoid falling. It strikes him that this is the first time he's seen Rose attempt an activity at which she isn't much good - a fact which, when he points it out to her, earns him an outraged swat on the arm that sends him sprawling onto the ice, and her tumbling after him as she laughs so hard that she loses her balance.

"I … wanted to ask you," she says, circling around to face him once they are both upright. "The lesson after next falls on Boxing Day, and I wasn't sure what your holiday plans are-"

"Did you want to cancel?" he says, unable to stop a small twinge of disappointment from creeping into his voice.

"No!" she says quickly, "I mean … not unless you wanted to, I just … you - you said you didn't have family, and I didn't know how you normally spend holidays…"

"No plans," he says, shrugging. Truth be told, he rarely has plans, normally spending a few hours on Christmas morning in the company of Jack and his family, something that they usually don't even get around to discussing until the day before the event.

"Would you want to come up? It's just me and gramps but … you're welcome, you know. If you don't have plans for Christmas, I mean ... you could come spend it with us …"

He smiles at her then, a soft, small grin that doesn't do justice to the slight swell he feels inside him. This is the first invitation from someone other than Jack that he's gotten in longer than he can remember. The first actual invitation at all, really - generally Jack just announces that John can come over if he wants to, which he does for an hour or two before heading back to his quiet flat, but this … this is a proper holiday, a proper invitation into a proper home and family, something he hasn't even let himself consider - or even been able to consider - in years. His smile fades only slightly as he swallows down something that threatens to rise in his throat, still holding her gaze all the while.

"That would be lovely," he says, his voice almost a whisper.

"Perfect," Rose says softly, beaming back up at him, as he takes her hand and gives it a slight squeeze before heading back out onto the ice.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The next morning, as has become their tradition, John and Wilf make breakfast together while Rose teaches a morning lesson. This time it's a full English breakfast as per the request of another guest, the father of a family of eight visiting from Brighton. It takes Wilf quite some time to find and drag out nearly every piece of cookware in the inn to make a breakfast that large - cast iron pots and pans and griddles that are so thick and heavy that they barely even all fit on the stovetop. John's never seen so many other guests at the inn before and can't help but wonder how long it's been since it's been so close to full capacity like this. While Wilf sets the table, John oils the pans and starts on the meats - bacon and sausage and blood sausage and ham, sizzling together on the range while the tomatoes and toast and mushrooms and eggs crackle on other oiled grills, and the baked beans and tea gently boil side by side. It smells gorgeous, the intermingled scents of hard work and home - and finally, when the other guests are all served in the dining room, John makes plates for himself and Wilf and collapses into a chair in the kitchen opposite his friend.

"I hear we're having a guest for Christmas!" Wilf says fondly, something approaching a twinkle in his eye as he pours his tea.

John pauses, fork in hand, glancing up at Wilf - this is Wilf's home that he's been invited into for the holiday, after all. He'd been so … well, touched, he supposes, when Rose asked him yesterday that it hadn't even occurred to him that Wilf might have an opinion on the matter.

"I'd… well, I'd love it. To stay. If that's okay with you, of course?"

"'Course it is! And it's better than okay - we're glad to have you here, anytime, you should know that by now," he says, giving John a smile, accompanied by a pointed eyebrow raise, as if to reassure him of the truth behind the statement.

John makes a show of rolling his eyes, and grins down into his own tea.

After breakfast is over and the multitude of pans are washed and dried, Wilf finishes up John's checkout paperwork at the registration desk - insisting of course by now on a heavily discounted rate, which John ineffectively tries to talk him out of. As he stands waiting, John's gaze drops to the basket of bonnie bits. He'd noticed them on his first visit, a basket of colloquially named gemstones. He picks up a stone, a sparkling pink crystal coated with golden dust, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger and holding it up to the light of the nearby window. It glistens slightly in the hazy morning sun, the delicate colors somehow muted by the sunlight, the golden dust glinting as he turns it in his hand, examining it closer.

"So what are these, anyway?" John asks.

"Bonnie bits? Just little pieces of local crystals - fluorite, mainly. Come in all different colors. The miners used to call them that, they used to take them home to their families, like decorations. Sort of a tradition around here."

John's eyes flick to Wilf, and his face breaks into a grin as he gets an idea. He places the gemstone on the counter-top, and grabs a handful of additional crystals.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The following two weeks go by quickly. John emails Jack as soon as he gets back to London, instinctively wanting to avoid the questions he's sure a phone call would bring, particularly since Jack seemed so curious about his ski lessons when they'd last met at the pub. Instead, he simply asks Jack if he can arrange for someone to give a special school tour for a friend. Jack replies that yes, of course any friend of John's is a friend of his as well, and they set a date several weeks in the future.

Jeanne meets John at The Natural History Museum one day after work - luckily she's available on a weekday, as he had suggested. The exhibit she'd wanted to see is one of the wildlife photography exhibitions the museum is famous for - photos captured by the world's greatest photographers of endangered species and botanical realms.

Side by side, they wander through the museum. When she asks about his week he prattles on about his newest research, and how even after single-handedly fixing the department's broken laser optical measurement device, he still had to write both the computer software to analyze the data and build the bloody computer himself - and that was just today, alone! He looks down at her then, and finds her looking back at him fondly, a small smile on her face. He smiles back at her – it's one of the things he's always liked so much about Jeanne after all – her genuine interest in both his work and his thoughts. Later, as they sit together in the cafe overlooking the museum's outdoor ice rink, they order coffee and discuss their favorite photographs and artists from the exhibit. As they sip their drinks, John looks down at the groups of skaters circling together on the ice below - he can't help thinking instead of ponds and waterfalls, and falling on his arse with Rose, and he inwardly smiles to himself.

That Friday, Christmas Break begins at the university. John hasn't spent much time with Luke or Clyde in weeks, as they have been busy with exams and end-of-semester coursework. John's been busy himself with exams and grading - not to mention multiple excursions to the geology lab on the other side of campus. Luckily however, the boys are available briefly that afternoon to pick up additional paperwork from John for their project. Of course they arrive late, which will make John late, but they do need the paperwork, and it's Christmas, so he tries to not give them too stern of a glance.

"What are you doing for the holidays, Dr. Smith?" Luke asks, picking up the binder of data John has prepared and putting it in his backpack.

"I'm staying with some friends in a small town up north," John says, slightly distracted as he shoves a few textbooks into his rucksack, taking a moment to swipe a few wayward strands of hair back across his head. He looks around the room one last time before shooing his students out to lock it up for the holidays, and half-wonders if he's missing anything. It's not like he'd necessarily need all of the books he's packing over the break, but it will be very important that he has all possible resources he needs if Clyde and Luke have any intention of remaining on schedule with their -

"Weardale?" Clyde asks.

John snaps his head up, as something almost electric flips painfully between his brain and his stomach, and he feels his pulse quicken. He doesn't respond immediately, instead taking a breath and stares at Clyde, his stomach somersaulting over the possibilities - did he learn that by himself? Had someone told him? Moreover, had he told anyone else - had he told Jeanne? Even as the thought strikes him, he shrugs it off as ridiculous and highly unlikely - neither Clyde nor Luke even take French, and Clyde had only met Jeanne a few weeks prior. Unless she already somehow knows, but she would have told John, wouldn't she? He'd just seen her, after all. All of those possibilities are vaguely mortifying, and none of them explains the most important issue at hand -

"How did you …"

"You've left a few receipts from there near our papers … ski lessons, right?"

John stares at Clyde for a long, silent moment, and the boy's expression slowly morphs from merely inquisitive to almost nervous during the pause. Clyde shifts his position back and forth, from one foot to the other, as if he can sense John's discomfort, and John feels a stab of guilt - this is his own damn fault, not Clyde's, and the boy is looking as if he's about to run for the bloody door. John takes a deep breath, puts on the closest thing to a smile that he can muster, and nods. Dammit.

"Ski lessons? That's so cool! Why skiing?" Luke says, crossing his arms and smiling expectantly over at John, seemingly oblivious to the tension, as if he assumed John would expound upon this.

John shifts his gaze over to Clyde, whose eyes are wider than they were a moment ago, his mouth opening and closing ineffectively several times.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Smith - I just ..."

"No, no, it's quite alright," John says, forcing another smile and turning to Luke. "Just … learning. Lifelong learning is good. Broadens the horizons. Definitely … something to do."

John motions to the door, and all three of them leave the office. John shuts the light and quickly closes the door tight behind him, locking it and shoving his keys into his pocket with such force that the teeth of one of the keys scrapes disobediently across his narrow hipbone, making him wince.

"I've got to go. Happy Christmas to both of you, I'll see you in January!"

John gives the boys a tight smile and a wave, leaving them standing side by side in the hallway as he walks briskly out to his car.