fortune cookie
Title: Peace of Mind
Author: LiLx (a_is4Addiction)
Word Count: 193
Rating: G
Pairing/Characters: Mulder/Scully, William
A/N: Time taken to write: 15 minutes. I like to give a
disclaimer about how much time I spent on my drabble,
so in case it sucks I can say "I only spent 15 minutes
on it!" ;)
AU. This is based on a fortune cookie I got about 3 1/2
years ago that ended up coming true.
They sit in their apartment, only the soft ting of teeth
against forks breaking a comfortable silence. Chopsticks sit
nearby, unopened because his slender fingers are too clumsy,
because she doesn’t care to make the extra effort tonight.
Scully watches her son eat like his father, the sleeves of
his little hooded sweatshirt rolled up, elbows on the table.
He looks up at her, smiling easily, and she sees Mulder in her
miracle for the third time in as many hours.
(What will you call him?)
William gestures toward her unopened fortune cookie next to
his crumpled wrapper. “Mommy, what does yours say?” He has
always been a believer, and fortune cookies are not an exception.
(William, after Mulder’s father)
She slowly opens the cookie while William squirms in his
chair. The words give her pause. All at once
(Mulder’s disappearance disappointing leads Skinner’s tears
sterile hospital rooms difficult pregnancy lonely birth
of a little boy without his father there continued searches
closed case six years)
swim in front of her eyes.
“Mommy?”
She blinks quickly until the images melt back into William,
watching her expectantly.
Stop looking. Happiness is right in front of you.
A/N 2: Let’s just pretend for a moment that Mulder was never
seen again after Requiem.
Author: LiLx (a_is4Addiction)
Word Count: 193
Rating: G
Pairing/Characters: Mulder/Scully, William
A/N: Time taken to write: 15 minutes. I like to give a
disclaimer about how much time I spent on my drabble,
so in case it sucks I can say "I only spent 15 minutes
on it!" ;)
AU. This is based on a fortune cookie I got about 3 1/2
years ago that ended up coming true.
They sit in their apartment, only the soft ting of teeth
against forks breaking a comfortable silence. Chopsticks sit
nearby, unopened because his slender fingers are too clumsy,
because she doesn’t care to make the extra effort tonight.
Scully watches her son eat like his father, the sleeves of
his little hooded sweatshirt rolled up, elbows on the table.
He looks up at her, smiling easily, and she sees Mulder in her
miracle for the third time in as many hours.
(What will you call him?)
William gestures toward her unopened fortune cookie next to
his crumpled wrapper. “Mommy, what does yours say?” He has
always been a believer, and fortune cookies are not an exception.
(William, after Mulder’s father)
She slowly opens the cookie while William squirms in his
chair. The words give her pause. All at once
(Mulder’s disappearance disappointing leads Skinner’s tears
sterile hospital rooms difficult pregnancy lonely birth
of a little boy without his father there continued searches
closed case six years)
swim in front of her eyes.
“Mommy?”
She blinks quickly until the images melt back into William,
watching her expectantly.
Stop looking. Happiness is right in front of you.
A/N 2: Let’s just pretend for a moment that Mulder was never
seen again after Requiem.