Smiling Because I'm Happy

by Victoria M.

Author's website: http://www.geocities.com/phunwuns/Fanfic/

Disclaimer: Due South belongs to Paul Haggis and Alliance. Thanks for the awesome show!

Author's Notes: The idea just popped into my head while I was taking a break. Kind of silly, but hey, I'm sure Fraser would be proud of his home country winning the gold medal! I guess it came kind of late, since we won the thing back during the winter. But better late than never! Oh, and no offense to any Americans out there. You guys played great too. :o)
Please do send over feedback to my e-mail at pedellea@hotmail.com!

Story Notes: This story supposes Call Of The Wild has not occurred. Everyone is where they should be. Hope you enjoy it!


SMILING BECAUSE I'M HAPPY
By Victoria M.

Constable Turnbull stood atop the stairs, unscrewing the troublesome light bulb that had burnt out once again.

"My, my. You've only had a lifespan of two months. What a defective product," he told the light bulb, shaking his head in disappointment.

He proceeded to find a light bulb - hopefully of a different brand - to replace the burnt one. He searched every nook and cranny of the consulate, looking in cupboards, in drawers, in the safe box, even under the seat cover of the portable toilet in desperation, but could not find one.

As his last resort, he knocked on Constable Fraser's room with the news, embarrassed at his failure of finding a light bulb.

"Come in."

Turnbull entered, expecting Fraser to look slightly agitated at the interruption. Turnbull even half expected him to pull out a light bulb, since Fraser seemed to be omniscient and able to fix any problems that arose.

He was met instead with a Constable Fraser that was sitting at his desk and smiling. The Constable never smiled quite this happily before. Well, not while sitting at his desk, anyways. Turnbull's thoughts turned to concern.

"What is it?," Fraser asked, still smiling. "Uh, sir, may I ask you a question before I ask the question that I had intended to ask?" "Go ahead."
"I was curious as to why you are smiling. Are you having muscular problems in your lower face area? I can find some medical help if that is..." "No, Turnbull. I'm smiling simply because I'm happy." "You're happy, sir?"
"Yes, Turnbull. I'm happy."
"May I then ask why you're happy, sir?" "Have you not heard?"

He indeed had not heard any important, happy news as of late. Perhaps his favourite country singer Tracy Jenkins was coming back for another visit. Now that would definitely constitute as happy news. But he hadn't heard anything, so he shook his head.

"I guess I have not," he responded, looking slightly embarrassed. "We won."
"We won, sir?"
"Yes, we won gold in hockey at the Olympics in Salt Lake City." "We did?"
"Yes, Turnbull. And that's why I'm happy."

A smile also spread on Turnbull's face, and he squealed with delight when he fully realized the happy news.

"We beat the Americans!"
"Indeed, we did."

Turnbull spent the next few moments jumping around, shaking his head in disbelief, and squealing some more in pure joy. Then, a sobering thought struck him.

"Will this have any implications to our being on American soil, sir?"

Fraser furrowed his brow for a second.

"I'm not sure. Perhaps we should keep our feelings to ourselves." "Yes, that would perhaps be a wise decision," Turnbull nodded, satisfied that Fraser had delivered another piece of good advice.

A moment of silence went by, and the smiles crept back on the men's faces.

"We won," Turnbull affirmed again.
"Isn't it a wonderful thought?"
"Yes, sir. It indeed is."
"So, Turnbull, what was your original question?" "Sir?," he returned, confused.
"The one you intended to ask before you asked why I was smiling." "Oh, yes... uh... it seems I have forgotten," Turnbull answered, flustered. "Perhaps a brisk walk around the consulate will help jog my memory." "Perhaps it will."
"Sir? May I?," Turnbull asked, gesturing towards the door. "Yes, go ahead. Dismissed."

Turnbull exited the door, his smile getting wider. Just then, the consulate door opened and Inspector Thatcher walked in.

"Constable Turnbull, why is the room so dark? And why are you smiling like that?"

It was then Turnbull remembered about the light bulb. But, there was a more exciting thing to share to the Inspector.

"Sir, we won."

And, with that, the light bulb is forgotten once again.


End Smiling Because I'm Happy by Victoria M.: pedellea@hotmail.com

Author and story notes above.