By ML
msnsc21@yahoo.com
 

Spoilers: Not really spoilers if they've already aired, right?
I bet you can guess the references, I won't spoil the fun.
Rating: I for Innuendo
Disclaimer:  Not mine.  I won't hurt them.  I didn't make up
the fortunes, either.

Thanks to Char and Carol for the beta-ing!

For Nancy.  I hope your fortunes are always good ones!

=====

Of Laughter and Forgetting
by ML

Having Chinese food for dinner wasn't unusual, it was the
setting.  For once, the dishes were hot from the kitchen,
served in metal and china serving dishes instead of lukewarm
in paperboard containers.  Instead of a Formica tabletop the
size of a postage stamp overlooking a motel parking lot,
they sat in a cozy booth at a table covered with a white
cloth.  Colorful lanterns swayed overhead and a waiter in
a blue tunic refilled their water glasses.

The Happy Family II wasn't a fancy restaurant.  It had a
lived-in look, a slight seen-better-days shabbiness that
gave it a friendly, comfortable air.  Mr. Wing himself
greeted them, and seemed surprised when Mr. Mulder, his
best take-out customer, asked to be seated at one of the
semi-enclosed booths that bordered the room.

The pretty lady he was with looked surprised too.  Mr. Wing
wondered if she was the reason why Mr. Mulder sometimes
ordered steamed vegetables and rice with his favorite
deep-fried Special Combination Number Two.

"Long time since you come see us, Mr. Mulder.  Out of town
on case?"  Mr. Wing asked politely.

"You could say that," Mulder replied, taking his companion's
coat and hanging it up.

Another unusual feature to the evening:  Scully was happy.
Maybe not entirely carefree, but somehow able to forget that
all was not right with the world.  The larger world, anyway.
Her world was looking pretty good at the moment.

The main reason for her happiness sat opposite her.  He
smiled and raised his bottle of Tsing Tsao beer to take a
long swallow.  Only a few weeks ago, he was playing dead
and she was dying.  Now she was in remission and he had been
cleared of any wrong-doing.  Today she'd re-qualified on the
firing range and to celebrate, Mulder had suggested dinner.

Mulder looked across at his partner.  She seemed relaxed and
was beginning to look better, just a few weeks after her
release from the hospital.  He grinned at her, having just
offered her a gauntlet of sorts.

Scully shook her head at Mulder, playing the nay-sayer as
she often did, but with a light, teasing tone.  "I don't
believe it," she shook her head and raised her own drink
to her lips.

"Well, this is one thing you'll just have to take on faith,"
Mulder replied.  "I didn't plan it.  It was just one of
those `randomness and chance' sort of things."

"But for it to have happened, when and how it did --"

"Serendipity, Scully.  Even a broken clock's right twice
a day."  He took another swallow of beer and wove his
chopstick dexterously through his fingers.  "So I won the
bet and impressed the girl.  End of story.  Sort of."

"Sort of?  There's a catch?"

"There's always a catch," he said.  "But it kind of ruins
the story."

"Then don't tell it," she said, laying her hand on his arm
briefly.  "Just remember the good parts."

He gazed at her, his eyes clear and limpid.  "You never let
me do that on our reports," he said with a smirk.

"If I did, they'd be the shortest reports ever," she retorted.

"Hmm," he said.  "The `Reader's Digest Condensed Version' of
the X-Files.  I like it."

"You would," was all Scully could think to say.  Mulder merely
grinned at her in return.

"Okay, so I've told my story.  How about you?  Spill, Scully."

"I don't have anything like your projectile shrimp story,"
she protested.  "No feats of derring-do with chopsticks,
 either."

"Any story at all, Scully.  I'm sure you've got something."

Scully took another sip of wine to gain time.  How about the
time she beat Bill in a batting contest?  Mulder would love
it.  But she had plenty of street cred with Mulder.  For once
she wanted some girly-cred.

Where did that idea come from?  Seeing Mulder's smile was
doing something to her.  It was like champagne in her blood.
She felt carried away by the sheer joy of forgetting everything
outside their little booth, sharing a happy moment with the
man she --

She what?  A blush rose at the thought.  She glanced at Mulder,
who was idly pushing a prawn tail around his plate, using a
chopstick as a hockey stick.  She was glad he wasn't looking
at her.

Maybe she could tell the story of Marcus and the fire truck?
No.  It sounded like a twice-told tale now, though actually
Mulder -- the *real* Mulder -- had never heard it.

Looking for inspiration, she picked a fortune cookie from the
tray and cracked it open, extracting the tiny slip of paper.
On one side, lottery numbers.  On the other...she read the
sentence to herself.  A few extra words not found on the
paper added themselves to the sentence and she snorted,
unable to stop herself.  This was no small, ladylike expression
of air, but the barely suppressed guffaw of laughter denied
for too long.

After a brief struggle she gave into it, leaning against
the leatherette of the seat back and laughing out loud,
wiping tears from her eyes.

Mulder watched her, bemused.  Scully's laughter, so carefree,
made him want to laugh, too.

Scully finally composed herself with difficulty, but the
occasional chuckle still escaped.

"Robin Williams must be writing fortunes now," he deadpanned.

Scully shook her head, still giggling a little.  "When I was
in med school, a bunch of us would go out to this little
Chinese restaurant once in a while.  We played a game with
the cookies."

Mulder raised his eyebrows encouragingly.

"You had to read your fortune out loud, and add the words
`in bed' to the end of it, no matter what it said.  Did you
ever do that?"

"End up in bed?  Lots of times," he said with a leer.  "Oh,
you mean play this game?  Nope.  So what does your fortune
say?"

Scully shook her head, crumpling the fortune in her hand.
"I've already read this one.  Let's each pick a new one."

"I'm warning you, Scully, my fortunes usually say something
like `Man can cure disease, but not Fate.'"  He repeated it
with the added phrase.  "Man can cure disease, but not Fate,
in bed."  He cocked his head to one side, considering.  "I
guess it has a certain ring to it."

"Well, they can't all be winners," she said.

"What did yours say?  It must have been a good one," Mulder
asked.

Scully ignored him.  "Come on, pick one," she urged.  "You
first."

Mulder took a cookie but didn't crack it open.  "I think you
should go first.  You didn't tell your story."

"The fortune cookie incident was the story."

"How was that a story?  You set the scene, but there was
no rising tension, no...climax, no denouement."

Trust Mulder to make the whole thing sound erotic.  She
*really* couldn't read him the first fortune now.

"Well, there was the time we sneaked fake fortunes into some
of the cookies.  Things like, `You will rise to the top of
your class,' or `You should study harder.'"

Mulder's lips moved as he repeated the fortunes with the added
"in bed" tacked on, and grinned.  "Okay, I get it.  What did
yours say again?"

"Nice try, Mulder.  Open your cookie."

"Let's do them at the same time, and then trade and read each
other's out loud."

"Okay, one...two...three."

Cellophane crinkled as they worked on the wrapped cookies.
Silence reigned as they each read them silently.  Without a
word, Mulder handed his to Scully.  Eyebrows raised, she
handed hers over to him.

Mulder read, his voice level, "'You will be fortunate in
everything you put your hand to...in bed.'  I think you got
mine, Scully."

Scully read, "'Health and happiness are your destiny...in
bed.'"

For a long moment they stared at each other.

"Fun game," Mulder finally deadpanned.

"I didn't say they were all funny," Scully said a trifle
defensively.

"Maybe the first one you opened up was the only good one.
Sure you don't want to share?"

She shook her head again.  "It just reminded me of something.
It's too hard to explain."

"Okay," he said.  If Scully didn't want to tell him, he would
learn nothing by badgering her.  He offered her the last cookie
on the tray.  "Go for broke, Scully."

"No, you have it," she said.

Mulder crushed the cookie and carefully extracted the fortune,
nibbling on the crumbs as he read it to himself.  With or
without the added words, he liked it.  He smiled to himself
and folded the slip of paper, putting it carefully into his
wallet.

"Not sharing, Mulder?"  Scully asked, her curiosity piqued.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," Mulder offered.

"Again, nice try," she said.  She shoved hers deep into her
coat pocket as she stood up.

Mulder stood up too, and in the guise of helping her with her
coat, he leaned close to her ear and said softly, "The health
and happiness one?  I think that one *is* yours.  With or
without the addendum."

She reached up and patted his hand where it rested on her
shoulder.  "Me too," she said.  "Me too."  Her other hand
brushed against the scrap of paper in her pocket.  Was it
greedy to wish for both?

Scully paused outside the restaurant doors to pull her gloves
out.  The air was already chilly.  Maybe going to Florida
would be nice after all.  Maybe there would even be a chance
for some down time...for both of them.

Standing behind her, Mulder saw the fortune flutter to the
sidewalk.  He stooped to pick it up, about to offer it back
to Scully, but instead shoved it into his own coat pocket.

"Do we really have to do this thing?"  he complained.  "Maybe
Skinner got it wrong."

"I think we're in for it this time," Scully said.  She didn't
enjoy going to these seminars any more than Mulder did, but
she was looking forward to spending some time with him when
neither of them was in danger of anything other than a little
boredom.

x-x-x-x

Two weeks later, after Florida, Mulder found the fortune in
his coat pocket.  He'd meant to give it back to Scully, maybe
tease her a little, but had forgotten about it by the time she'd
dropped him off that night.  He thought of the evening at the
restaurant, Scully's carefree laughter, his feeling of contentment.

He smiled and unfolded the paper, reading "Something big is
coming your way."  The phrase, "in bed" added itself unbidden.
He laughed out loud.

"Worried about my ego, Scully?"  he murmured, and put the fortune
in his wallet with the other one he'd saved from that night:
"You will achieve your heart's desire."

Maybe Man had to take Fate into his own hands sometimes.  He
dialed Scully's number.

"Hey, it's me.  Feel like Chinese for dinner tonight?"

end.

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