Shutter Speed
She wonders what happened to the picture Alfred took. Did he, in a single picture, capture all she was, currently is, and ever will be? The photo-booth picture sits in a file now, quietly tucked away in a file cabinet. She stared at the picture for hours; the swirling chaos, ghostly imagery, and uncontrolled madness were haunting. In the quiet hours she spent at her desk, she brought herself to tears trying to understand it all.
She knows that at every moment a person changes. Forks in the road and infinite choices branch our lives. In a photograph, a person is captured. Stolen, copied, and returned. In that moment, all they were, are, and ever will be is held in that picture. All in the speed of the shutter.
She walked home, crushing cherry blossoms beneath her feet. As she reached her apartment, something eerie and subtle struck her. She goes to her closet and starts to sift through the boxes until she finds her camera. She had purchased it years ago on a kick, but it has sat collecting dust for the majority of its ownership. She turns it on, glad to see it has film. She aims at the window. That's safe. Click, whurr, Click. She likes the sound, once removed from hovering over dead bodies and fear. It's in her hands. She's in control. She steps out her front door, and sees a biker riding down her street. She aims, the shutter blinks. He's too fast, it'll be blurred. She doesn't know how to adjust the shutter speed, he's too close, too many things, it won't focus right.
She brought the camera to work. As she sits at her desk, she sees Mulder basked in lamplight. She finds her camera, aims, shoots. All he was, is, and ever will be. Click, whurr, click. He doesn't stir. She smiles.
Months later she's hovering over that picture, crying. Things happen so fast. If only she could have slowed it down, examined it, maybe she could have seen or understood. Maybe she could have seen the ever will be so this didn't hurt so much. Maybe she would still feel complete instead of half full. She wishes that he, like a camera, could have only copied her. In his mind he took her, he must have heard.
Click, whurr, click.
Mulder keeps her forever.
