Picture Perfect

Disclaimer: No, I refuse to do this again!

:: Why, why, why is it so much fun to write angsty Sam?

Sam Braddock was not one for formal family occasions.

God, it's hot in here. His hand made a quick move to loosen up his tie, burgundy red as deep as the summer rose. His jacket was off, neatly half folded over the arm of the chair. Sam looked at the afternoon tea and snack his mother had asked her housemaid to prepare. Tea – like this day hadn't been hot enough—and some assorted of pastries that looked too sweet for their own good. Going to the kitchen to see if there were some cold beers in the fridge sounded very tempting, but it was rather unlikely he'd find anything. His father only kept fifty odd something year old wine, whiskey and equally sophisticated alcohols and they were upstairs in his study room.

From the patio, he could listen to the commotion taking place in the master living room. His dearest mother was giving instructions to the florist and photographers while his father was nowhere to be seen; most likely conversing away in a long distance conference call with some other lieutenant general in the Third World country.

"Can this day move any slower?" Natalie said, almost whined, as she dropped into the chair opposite his. Her long blonde hair was up in a side ponytail and the red sassy dress she'd donned was as beautiful as sin.

"Has dad seen you?" Sam asked, nodding at her dress.

"I haven't met him today," Natalie answered absently, picking at one of the quiches. She eyed it without interest. "Mom had to drag him from his study room to change. I think he had some important calls with General Abu-Dhabi or something." Catching Sam's look, she quickly straightened her back and tossed the pastry back into the plate. "Ask me if I care. He would have dressed me in an effing coat if he could."

They both shared a look; both were fully aware of what he could and could do.

"Anyway, it had better be over soon because I have a date with Tony later," Nat said and pushed her chair back, standing up and smoothing down her dress. A sigh escaped those lips. "A fucking family portrait. Things that I do for mom."

Sam watched as she strutted back into the house; her shoes had given her additional three inches that she didn't really need. He could sympathize with her. Being the youngest of the Braddock siblings, Nat would have to wait for a couple more years still before she was of age to leave the house. Their father wasn't always home everyday, but the rules he had made bounded her, and him, before, that Archibald Braddock had made a rebel out of Natalie. Dating an activist several years older than her, partying every other night…

Sam would never blame her.

He glanced inside, watching Patty Braddock and his eldest sister fussing over the carnations. Karen had done well for herself, career wise. Unmarried at the age of 40, Karen was a thriving lawyer. She was a partner in a law firm in Vancouver where she had been living for the past 10 years and she was making big cash per year. If his father's face would show up on the newspaper after 17 soldiers were killed in Kandahar, Karenina Braddock would grace the front page after a serial rapist was sentenced to death.

Guess the only ones in the family with clean hands were his mother and rebel of a sister.

Sam often wondered what Tory would have become if she's still alive. If things between the family would have been as edgy and strained.

When he received the phone call from his mother that they're going to take a family portrait, it was all Sam could do from making any excuses. Even across the town, Sam hated listening to her almost pleading tone. Karen always had hectic schedules, Nat got driven home in a patrol car last month and Sam was trying to make a difference with SRU and rarely called, let alone came home.

She missed them, one and together as a family.

Family, what is it, really?

At the end of the ten minute conversation, Sam agreed to talk to Nat. If her mother wanted to take a family portrait, then she would have it.

"General Braddock, please put your left hand on top of your right." Jack, the plump photographer politely instructed, knowing that the head of the family was usually giving orders instead of receiving them.

Sam was standing behind his mother, next to Karen. God knew how long he hadn't spoken to her. They had never been close as children -separated by the fine line between being a smart and smart ass person, he didn't need to tell who's what-, and as they grew older, neither had cared enough to build the bridge. When his eyes met Nat, she winked at him with her patented smug smile - she's still wearing her daring cocktail dress.

General Bad-Ass was wearing his uniform, his army service ribbons were the most colorful thing there was in the room. Sam still remembered when the maple leaves on his shoulders had been one instead of four. Much happier times when his mom hadn't needed to pay some photographer and rearrange the living room as if they're going to be in Martha Stewart magazine just to see all of them together. When Sam was a teenager, he had asked himself if the golden bands around his father's uniform sleeves were like a pair of handcuffs, chaining him forever to his duty.

"Just get on with it, will you?" Jack looked like he deflated a bit when the General snapped. "I have to go back to the base in an hour."

"Archie, we talked about this. You promised you would make the time." His wife reminded quietly.

"An hour, no more." No more room for further discussion.

"Then maybe it's a good thing to stop talking and start smiling." Nat muttered impatiently.

Sam inhaled. Beside him, Karen went rigid. He could guess that she was probably hoping she's in her office, drowning in a pile of old cases as lame as a kid stealing candy than being there, surrounded by her family.

It was almost 40 outside, the sun was shining as bright as it did in the tropical countries, and yet it felt cold inside the household. Maybe this time his mom would finally learn that it would take more than a family portrait to melt the ice glazing over their dysfunctional relationship.

"Yes, like that, perfect." Jack approved.

When the pictures had been developed, no doubt people would say that they were such a beautiful family. Nat with her red lips and bouncing golden hair; Karen, her smart, alert green eyes. His father was still one of the most charismatic people Sam had ever known and even in her age of almost 60, his mom was still radiant.

As for him, they would make comments on how he had grown up so much, the little Sammy boy. How he looked like Tory and how unfortunate that she couldn't be there with them today. If he was lucky, none of them would ask how it felt to the be one bearing the responsibility to pass on the Braddock legacy.

The epilogue would be the sad, pity smiles and pats on the back; they knew how much expectation his father had for him.

If they only knew.

More like, had had for him.

"Give me a huge smile, and hold still!"

Sam exhaled.

Bran, his mother's Yorkshire Terrier was yapping once from his perch on her lap. Karen's tight smile looked dull compared to Nat's flirtatious grin. Whether his father was smiling or not, Sam couldn't tell from his place but he put a reassuring hand on his mother's shoulder and gave Jack a reserved smile of his own.

Jack pressed the shutter button and the camera flash sent a million of tiny silvery pieces in front of his eyes.

The ice had been broken, for now. Their smiles and (artificial) happiness had been frozen in time.

Just this once.

Picture perfect.

Sam said he has 2 sisters in Fault Lines. I assumed, he didn't include the one killed when he's younger. I took the liberty with Nat's character. Maybe one of these episodes, we're going to see her again.

:)