Comments, complaints and just plain talk to sheryl_martin@tvo.org
Snapshotsby Sheryl Martin
The snow lightly fell against the windowpane as Fox Mulder sat quietly on his couch; the television forgotten as he stared down at the thick book on his lap. He hated to do this; tearing open the old wounds and scraping the scab bare every time he opened this photo album. But he did it at least once a week; a silent pilgrimage. And sometimes in the depths of his despair and confusion he found a peacefulness in the renewal of his beliefs.
And sometimes it just hurt so bad that he would cry.
Opening it to one of the first pages, he stared down at a smiling, younger Fox Mulder. And his sister...
*********
"Fox!" Samantha yelled as he accidentally on purpose stepped on her sand castle just at the edge of the water. With a smirk he twisted his foot; sliding through the main tower.
"Oh, sorry." He grinned. "Didn't see it."
Getting to her feet, Sam put her balled hands on her hips. "Fox! You did that on purpose!" She yelled. "Say you're sorry!"
He looked up the beach, to where his parents were sunning themselves; their attention elsewhere.
"Nah."
Racing over to him, she pushed him back with both hands; the sudden strength sending him slipping in the wet sand. As he thudded onto his back she leapt on his chest, pounding on him with her fists.
"Say you're sorry! Say you're sorry!" She repeated, picking up a handful of sand and spraying it across his face.
Spitting out some grains that had gotten in his mouth, the young boy laughed as she lifted another handful.
"Say you're sorry!"
*************
He turned the pages at random; letting his eyes settle on another picture.
*************
"Look over here!" His mother snapped yet another photo; blinding him for at least the tenth time. Tugging at his graduation gown; he felt foolish as the soft English breeze pulled the folds of cloth out and around him.
"So..." She looked at him; the pride obvious in her face. "When do you leave?"
"In a week." He smiled. "Off to Quantico." His eyes searched the crowd again for a face he knew wasn't going to be there; but he hoped would be. "So Dad couldn't make it?"
"You know how busy he is..." The usual excuses ran around his ears like buzzing bees; pricking him with their barbs. "But you know he's proud of you..."
Mulder nodded, swallowing hard. "Yah. Right." His eyes drifted to a woman standing off to one side; both trying to avoid his gaze and to draw him to her. A shudder went through his mind at the memory. Don't get burnt again, Mulder...
************
Picking up the most recent addition to the album, he flipped to a blank page and lifted the protective flap to put it in.
*************
"Fox!" He spun, glass in hand, as the flash went off in front of him; splattering his vision with black dots. Margaret Scully smiled, lowering the camera to forward the film.
"Dana! Come help me use up the last of this roll!" She smiled at Mulder, listening to the grandchildren race around the Christmas table. It had taken a lot of fast talk to get him here, but he hadn't really been protesting that much...
Dana Scully appeared at his side, her cheeks a bright red from either carousing with her brothers or from the wine in her hand. Either way, when she slipped an arm around him to settle on his waist and leaned into his side to smile at the camera; he thought his heart was about to stop.
"Don't move..." The blinding light again; and Margaret grinned. "Go. Play. Eat."
Pulling Mulder off to one side, Dana smiled. "Thanks for coming out. Mom's really glad to have you here." She hugged him impulsively, the wine sloshing about in her glass dangerously.
He closed his eyes as he held her for a long minute, taking in the delicate scent of her perfume and the dark jade blouse she was wearing; dangerously low-cut. And he smiled.
************
Looking one last time at the newest picture, he closed the album and placed it back under the table; in the usual place. Reaching for the television control, he found himself smiling as he flipped through the channels. And an errant thought wandered up through the layers of his mind to sit at the forefront...
He had a lot of blank pages left to fill in the album.
*************"You've become a world-class hopeless romantic.""Not hopeless... hopeful. A world-class hopeful romantic."Joan Wilder -- Romancing The Stone
