Photographs and Memories
by Panzareta
Author's Notes: This story was written for the 2003 Secret Santa game. Thanks to laylya for allowing it to be posted.
Rated: T
Pairing: Frank/Michelle, NYPD Blue
★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★
Frank looked through the box one last time before packing it into storage at his parents' house. Chelle was as impatient as ever to leave, which always made things harder. But this time she could just wait a little bit longer, because Frank had a bad feeling about the move to New York. Maybe it would be ok, after all... but deep in his heart, Frank couldn't summon up the belief any more.
He turned over an old photo of himself on Santa's lap. It was only slightly faded, the way color prints did over time. He must have been five, maybe six, to judge by his haircut. Idly he wondered where it had been taken--probably one of the big stores downtown--but there was nothing written on the back, except the name Frank in his mother's handwriting, and a large piece of paper with a few words clumsily printed on it lying underneath.
"Dere Santa" he read,"I want some toytruks a trainn a basbal a bat and most of all I want a puppy. Love Frank."
Frank grinned at the memory the letter and photo conjured up. He'd gotten the trucks and baseball, -- the first in a long series -- but there had never been a puppy. Frank sighed wistfully. The one thing he'd always wanted and never gotten... it figured. They'd always had lots of sports things growing up--enough baseballs and footballs and basketballs and related sports equipment to stock a small store. His dad had believed in getting decent things for them--the sporting goods stores, and their clerks, must have loved to see Mr. Colohan showing up regularly every Christmas.
He stood as his back gave a sudden twinge, warning him not to stay on his knees too long. Frank stood, carefully, glancing at the myriads of boxes and wondering just where all those old toys were. He knew they were still here--his mom made frequent mention of how she was saving their things for her *grandchildren*. Frank winced at that idea. He didn't want any kids for awhile yet--not with Chelle fresh out of rehab and him still trying to get a decent job. There'd be time later on. Him and Chelle were young--they had lots of time yet.
"Frank? Hurry up, we need to get going." Chelle must be getting nervous, he could tell by her voice. Maybe she was right, and making a fresh start, away from all the bad memories, really would help them. It was worth a try, anyway.
"Coming." Frank slowly looked around the dusty storeroom one last time, wishing he didn't have to leave. Life hadn't been perfect by any means, but it hadn't been all bad. In fact, it had been pretty good most of the time. He slowly made his way down the stairs, bracing himself for the good-byes. Frank hated saying goodbye.
At last, the good-byes were said, and he and Chelle were on their way to the bus depot to catch the bus to New York. Frank wasn't looking forward to the long bus ride, but it was the only sensible alternative, since he had sold his car for start-up money.
"You're gonna love New York, Frank. It's a new start, everything will work out just fine." Chelle smiled up at him before nestling her head against his shoulder as the bus lumbered down the road.
"Sure, baby. Whatever you say." Frank leaned down and smoothed Chelle's hair back from her forehead, watching as she slept. He slowly leaned his head back and closed his eyes, dozing off. The last stop would be New York, and he hoped it would be a good one. And maybe, if they were really lucky, they'd be home for Christmas.
The End
★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★
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