Author's notes: I bloody love Internet. See, we don't get that many comics in France – it's a long way away to get the monthly issues, so comics are generally published in hard-back (or not) volumes according to arc significance. And it's really hard to find original English versions. Plus (and I'm not throwing stones here, just whining a bit) it's all pretty much Marvel Comics on the shelves (about two-thirds, or three-fifths, I'm not joking) and if it's DC you're looking for, well, too bad. At least we get independent stuff, too. And Hellboy. Thank goodness for that. Anyway … I recently found a website where I could read some of the comics arcs and stories I'd only heard about till now, and while with my crappy connection it sometimes takes a lot of time for the pages to appear, it means lots of good reading. And punching the air and going "Whoo-hoo!" because a few pages I've read are just plain awesome.

Sorry. /rant. Anyway, here's one of my favourite snapshots so far. I did write it around Christmas time, but Bob forbid I should put up a seasonal snippet :D

Disclaimer: I own the clothes I'm wearing as I type this, the glasses on my nose and various paraphernalia and stuff that are cluttering my flat – sadly, the rights for DC comics and Justice League aren't among them. The shock :o]

Snapshot Collection

16. Perfect Picture

If, at the end of a long and very eventful career, you were to ask James Bartholomew Olsen whether a particular moment or picture feels like the highlight of said career, he'd smile and say that every single picture has its importance.

There's the picture he took when he first glimpsed a hint of red and blue in the sky, the countless pictures he managed to get in situations that sometimes could turn quite hairy, because Miss Lane believed that blood, toil, sweat and tears was the way to a good article. There's also the pictures of several averted apocalypses, right at the turn of the tide, when black despair turned into a wild, flickering hope.

Somewhere in his special vault, there's a photo of a torn, ragged piece of red and blue fabric caught in rubble, that marks the time when the world thought it had lost its greatest hero.

But when you leave, he'll open this special vault, take out a picture and look at it with a smile.

At first glance, there's nothing special about this one. It's just a snapshot of the seven founding members of the Justice League, with Lois Lane standing next to Superman and the lights from a Christmas tree shining from the left edge.

But if you were allowed time to give it more than a passing glance, you'd see the various looks of absolute shock on the faces, and there is something subtle but definitely there passing between Shayera Hol and John Stewart, and the beaming, huge smile on the Flash's face would leave you with the persistent impression that he's just the happiest guy on Earth right now.

Jimmy remembers that time like it was yesterday. In a sense, it might have been, because human memory is an unbelievable mess with no concept of filing system at all, and his memory of his Auntie Lynn offering him a bow tie for his 14th birthday shares a spot with the time several years later when Miss Lane told him he was allowed to 'lose' it if it bothered him so much.

He liked the bow tie. He just left it in a drawer the day he realised he didn't need it to make him look older and more serious.

It was on the thirteenth – or fourteenth – Christmas after the founding of the League, and the seven original members had decided to spend it together, for once. Even Batman had accepted to be torn from Gotham City, which was a miracle onto itself.

Of course, Perry had sent Miss Lane and Jimmy there to cover the event.

Clark had not objected. Now, after all these years, Jimmy can't help but shake his head and wonder how he could have missed it. It was so obvious, when you thought about it.

The thing is, it should have been a private affair. The problem was not the presence of two Planet reporters, nor was it the fact that it was held in the Metro Tower, with all of them in costume, nor was it really that things were more than awkward between four people – namely Shayera Hol and John Stewart, as well as Diana and Batman – each one tiptoeing around the other half of the equation and being generally uncomfortable.

Green Lantern and Vixen had officially broken up a few weeks ago. Jimmy was not really supposed to be in-the-know, but the facts being what they were, he even knew that Vixen was the one who had called it quits, making the situation even more uneasy.

Superman went from one to the other, making conversation and wishing everyone a merry Christmas. J'onn J'onnz was decidedly trying, but he appeared to grow slightly impatient. When Jimmy went to him asking for a picture, he gracefully complied, but made a passing remark that he was missing his wife and almost regretting having accepted to come.

Jimmy didn't know what to say to that. So he kept his mouth shut and his eyes and ears wide open.

Unfortunately, the very next guy he turned to for a picture turned out to be Batman, who stared at him as though defying him to press the button of his camera. Jimmy couldn't help a small jolt, but bravely held up his working tool and gave a tentative smile.

"Uhm, evening, Jimmy Olsen, Daily Planet. Mind if I take a picture, sir?"

"Yes," Batman answered curtly. "I do, as a matter of fact."

And he was gone in a swoosh of black cape. Jimmy could still feel the weight of his glare.

So that was a Bat-glare, huh? Scary.

Ah, well. Jimmy grabbed his camera and glanced around in the deceptively casual manner he had come to use over his years as a photographer. The perfect picture was a curious, inconstant thing, and it very rarely happened with formal portraits.

He knew that. He'd spent years looking for the perfect picture. He had caught some good ones, but very few great ones.

Miss Lane was standing nearby, between the canapés and the stuffed olives. Jimmy put his camera back around his neck and sidled next to her, using the olives as an excuse.

"Having a good evening, Miss Lane?"

"Oh, just fantastic, Jimmy," she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm having the time of my life here. You know, this was supposed to be an occasion for the Magnificent Seven to get together and have themselves a merry little Christmas, and we could have gotten a nice shining Christmas article about peace on Earth and good will to men out of it – which we will, mind you – but I'm afraid the picture will lack Christmas cheer."

Her voice went down a little on the last phrase, and Jimmy peered at her. Close-to, she looked a little tired behind the ever-present snark. He grinned at her.

"Maybe, but there's no way tonight enters our Worst Christmas competition. Remember that time in Kaznia two years ago?"

She met his eyes, and the violet seemed to shine a little brighter as a very slight smile turned the corners of her lips. "Oh, yes. Up to our armpits in snow and mud trying to interview the 'freedom fighters' on both sides without getting killed. That one's a winner."

"That stake-out on the docks for a story that turned out to be a total dud takes the cake, though. Man, it was cold."

"Point taken."

"Yeah."

They shared a smile over the memories of doomed stories past and all of those that were to come, and not for the first time, Jimmy was struck by just how amazing Lois Lane was. She could have used her charms for just about everything, with those eyes and that smile, but she seldom did, preferring instead to roll up her sleeve and do the dirty work to get a scoop.

He had never thought of her that way, not seriously, but every once in a while it just hit him. She was one of a kind, Miss Lane. One of the best in the world, really.

When Jimmy's eyes left Lois, they fell on Superman, who was also looking at her. Ah. One of those moments, then. He winked at Lois and walked off unobtrusively, leaving the two alone. Superman shot him a grateful glance.

He stood on the sidelines, taking a few pictures here and there as the atmosphere gradually warmed up.

When he glanced in a corner, he spotted the Flash. Incredibly, he wasn't zipping around, making silly jokes and making everybody comfortable. Instead, he just sat there with a glass in his hands, and if he hadn't worn such a big smile on his face, Jimmy would have been a bit worried.

"Hi," he tried, going to sit next to the speedster, who barely turned to him. "You all right?"

"Wha'? Oh, yeah, right, absolutely. It's just – yeah. I'm all right. More than all right."

Jimmy squinted at the guy. He looked way past punch-drunk and into the land of little white clouds and flashy rainbows.

The question left his mouth before he even thought about it. "How many of these have you had?"

The Flash blinked – very slowly, for him – and turned his head to stare at Jimmy.

"Four. It's my fifth orange juice. Why?"

Jimmy gave him what he hoped was an inquisitive pointed stare.

"Orange juice? You gotta be kidding me."

This got a more normal grin. "Believe it or not, pal, I didn't touch anything stronger than that tonight. Anyway, if I had, you probably wouldn't have noticed."

"Oh yeah? I notice a lot of stuff, you know."

"I bet you do." This was said without any sarcasm, to Jimmy's surprise. "What I mean is, last time I tried, I stayed drunk for about … Twenty minutes."

"Must have been an interesting twenty minutes." Jimmy couldn't help a smirk. He had a very good imagination. "And a hangover?"

"An hour."

"An hour?!" Jimmy stared, then glared at him. "Man, I hate your metabolism."

"Lots of people do." Flash gave him one of his lightning-quick, big silly grins. "And I'll have you know that an hour is, like, ages if you're me."

There was a silence, which quickly got filled with the sound of conversation and Aimée Mann's rendition of God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen. It was not exactly the kind of night Jimmy had imagined – actually, some hidden part of him had expected some kind of attack by Lex Luthor, the remaining Legion of Doom or the Royal Flush Gang – any power-crazy super-villain keen on death and desolation and party-crashing.

But no. The only demons they had to fight that night were only tension and awkward attempts at conversation.

It looked like exactly the wrong occasion for a perfect picture, but Jimmy was nothing if not persistent. He snatched a photo of the Flash that turned up funny and kind of goofy – it suited the guy to a T – and stood up.

"The eternal quest for the perfect picture, right?"

Jimmy nodded, his eyes on the various people scattered in the room. "How'd you know?"

"My aunt was a reporter. Mostly she wrote stuff, but she always said that the 'perfect picture' was the reason she left it to professionals."

The photographer's curiosity in Jimmy Olsen was piqued. "What was her name?"

The Flash winked. "Sorry. Secret identity business, kind of thing."

Darn. So close.

"Hey, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"Why are you so … high on orange juice?"

The faraway euphoric look flitted across the Flash's face for a second. Then he grinned and shook his head. "Just got some news. And as far as I'm concerned, they're the best news I ever got."

"Cool." Jimmy took his old, dog-eared notebook from his pocket. "What is it?"

The Flash gave him a pointed look that didn't carry much more weight than Jimmy's usually did. It wasn't inquisitive enough – the big smile threatened to get in the way. "Something private. Look, don't take it personally, but I'm kinda saving it for … the opportune moment. When I can tell the guys. But not now."

"Okay, no prob." I'll have to make sure I have my camera ready then. "Merry Christmas, Flash."

"Merry Christmas, Jimmy."

Jimmy left him like he had seen him – staring into nothing with a huge smile on his face. It was an odd way to spend a Christmas party, he reflected, but soon hid his own smirk when Shayera dragged him in the middle of the room to dance on a (probably Christmas-related) jazzy tune, to everyone's relieved delectation.

Shayera Hol was very graceful, and had magnificent coordination, but one thing she never quite learned to do just right was dancing. Flash was known as the only one with quick enough reflexes to be able to dance with her without getting his feet trodden upon, and the only one with enough nerve – or sheer recklessness – to comment on her terrible dancing skills.

And judging by the way she slapped the back of his head, he'd just done exactly that. Fortunately, judging by the good-natured grin on both their faces, it was a well-rehearsed game.

Predictably enough, Superman invited Lois to dance to a slower song.

Batman pointedly did not look in Diana's direction.

Jimmy was entreated to a dance with the Princess of the Amazons, and found it difficult enough to concentrate on leading a woman who had three or four inches on him without feeling Batman's glare burning in the back of his head. Diana was absolutely lovely, however.

The evening wore on, and still he saw no sign of the perfect picture.

Well. At least it proved a better night than he had expected on first impression. The Christmas dinner was good, the atmosphere had finally thawed out and most of the guests were having a good time.

After gifts were exchanged, just when Jimmy was beginning to feel that the party was over and none of the pictures he had taken tonight was front-page material, Superman caught his eye and the gloomy way he watched the small screen of his digital camera.

Always helpful, Superman suggested that everybody should be at least on one picture and that one group photo would take less time that seven individual portraits. Batman tried to object to being caught on film – something that he'd successfully avoided for years – but when Jimmy told him that if he stood right there he would be completely in the shadows and no-one would see his face, he grudgingly accepted.

Everyone took a suitably heroic pose. Of course, it just meant that Green Lantern was standing just a little bit more than usual to attention, Shayera was gripping her mace tighter, and Batman glowered, shrouded in darkness.

The only ones not really listening to Jimmy were Diana and the Flash. She was whispering urgently to him, and both gave a start when Batman's cold voice said, "I would like this stunt over with as quickly as possible, thank you."

Jimmy took his picture. A nice, straight group photo, where everybody gave a smile or their own version of one. John Stewart and Shayera were almost unnoticeably looking sideways at each other.

And then, in the second it took for him to lower his camera and the eight people in front of him to relax, Diana turned to Flash and just said, "… And?"

To say Flash beamed would be a gross understatement. His whole face positively shone.

"I'm gonna be a dad!"

Jaws dropped, heads turned sharply, smiles just began to make their way across some faces …

Jimmy pressed the button on his camera.

Perfect picture.

Didn't see that one coming, did ya? ;o) Couldn't help throwing in some Shayera/John (because in my mind, those two eventually sorted out their problems and pride and doggone stubborn streaks and got back together) and … whatever Diana/Batman I could write. That Bats is so darn hard to write. Aargh.

Linda's not mentioned, but of course Wally and her are married. To me, it's bound to happen one way or another, even in the DCAU – because sure, Wally starts off hitting on every woman he comes across, but eventually he matures a little bit. Not too much, mind :D

Next up: "Wouldja stand still so I can properly kill you?!" Captain Boomerang yelled, thoroughly aggravated.