From: msnsc21@yahoo.com   
      
   ok to post to newsgroup; I will send to Ephemeral and Gossamer.   
   Thanks!   
      
   Title: Of Laughter and Forgetting   
   Author: ML   
   Email:  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   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)