Luck of the Irish by MoJo

"Luck of the Irish"
by MoJo

Mulder's Apartment
12:13 a.m.

"Scully?" Mulder whispered, his voice heavy and breathless.

"Hmm?"

"Is it after midnight?" he asked.

I glanced over at the clock, it read "12:13" a.m.

I nodded, smiling down at him. I laced my hands with his, giving me more leverage as I moved in time with him. "I guess my good luck streak is really over."

I felt him inside me, growing harder. I slid up and down, pleasuring myself as I pleasured him. The bed rippled in waves with my motions. It was such a surprise the first time we made love here, to find a waterbed. I had never made love on a waterbed before. But I happily adapted.

A thin layer of sweat was glistening off his skin. Despite the bitter cold outside, the temperature inside had risen considerably. His hands broke away from mine and caressed my breasts, pressing up into them. I let my head fall back with moan.

All of my senses seemed saturated with Mulder. I watched him beneath me. I inhaled the scent of his after shave, mixed with the smell of sex. His hands were touching me everywhere. His mouth still tasted of salt and tequila from earlier. And the wordless sounds he made echoed around the room.

His fingers ventured lower, down my stomach. His thumb worked small circles on my folds, which drove me further into the sensual haze that was consuming me.

Mulder looked at the mirror mounted above. My eyes glanced upwards, where I caught the reflection of myself making love to Mulder.

"Why do you have that up there?" I asked, between thrusts.

"Came with the bed," he breathed.

"You just like watching me," I replied, exhaling sharply.

A lazy smile broke out across his lips. He couldn't deny that.

"Scully, I think I'm the one who's lucky right now," he said, biting his bottom lip as he stifled another moan.

"You're getting lucky," I corrected, pressing him harder into me.

"I certainly am," Mulder mused.

***

Portland, Maine
8:13 p.m.
28 hours previous

"Stop! Federal agents!" Mulder called out as he tore after the suspect.

Police swarmed the area of the dock, rising out of the shadows with their guns and snipers ready. I chose to search for the kidnapped victim inside the boat. O'Leary wouldn't get far. It had been a five hour standoff waiting for his next move. His hostage was a very rich Irish businessman and there was rumors of IRA involvement. He was being held for ransom.

I stepped into the cargo hold, flashing the light around. Other officers piled in behind me and separated. It was a medium size shipping vessel. There were crates everywhere, some held illegal guns and ammunition. I waived the flashlight around as I explored.

Suddenly, I heard a muffled moan. I followed in the direction to the rear of the boat, climbing over the boxes and freight. There, in the dark I saw something moving. I flashed the light directly on the figure, tied securely to a straight back chair.

He was short in stature, and judging from the stunted growth of his limbs, he was a dwarf. He was dressed very neatly, in a suit. As I approached closer, I noticed the deep red spot spreading across his white shirt. He'd been shot and left for dead, presumably when O'Leary figured out he was cornered.

"Mr. Flannery?" I asked, removing the gag.

He nodded weakly. "I'm Flannery."

"You're safe now," I reassured him, checking his pulse. I felt his head, and loosened his tie and shirt. He'd lost a lot of blood already.

"You've prevented a dangerous criminal from more terrorism, Agent...?" he started in his thick Irish brogue.

"Scully," I finished, cutting him free from the tight constraints. I unbuttoned his shirt and examined the wound. "Don't try to talk, just lay still."

"Ah, Irish lass is my savior," he said with approval. "Shoulda known from yer luvly red hair."

He was bleeding steadily. I searched for something to press against it. His face was also swollen from a black eye and there were cuts and abrasions on his forehead. "You are going to be all right. It looks like a clean shot. I'll call out for an ambulance."

"Are you a doctor?" he asked.

"Yes I am," I said, checking his pupils. They were slightly dilated. His eyes were the strangest green I'd ever seen, almost turquoise. "You need to remain calm, Mr. Flannery."

"I'm a very wealthy man, Agent Scully. I'd like to repay you for yer kindness to me," Flannery said.

"This is my job, Mr. Flannery," I affirmed. "I don't need any reward."

He reached out and held my hand firmly in his, locking his gaze with mine. "Eh, no gold for you, an unselfish heart. But you deserve something. May the luck of the Irish follow you from sunup to midnight tomorrow."

"Thank you," I said cordially, humoring him. He seemed disoriented and I feared his head injury was worse than first suspected. I reached for my cell phone for the ambulance. "Please remain calm and still. Everything is going to be all right. Don't try to talk."

He settled back in the chair, with a painful sigh. He laced his hands and placed them on his belly, grinning up at me before he closed his eyes. "Unselfish heart."

***

Portland International Jetport
6:25 a.m.

I walked back from the ticket counter to the gate where I left Mulder dozing with our carryon luggage. He was still sprawled out, his eyes closed.

"Wake up, Mulder," I said gently, shaking his shoulder.

"Damn it Scully, I was having the nicest dream. You and I were in Hawaii investigating some volcano voodoo god. But we blew that off and went to the beach. And you weren't wearing much," he said, grinning sleepily at me.

"Well, we aren't going to Hawaii, but we've been upgraded to first class," I said, sitting next to him. "Almost makes it worth getting up at 5:30 a.m., huh?"

"You mean I actually get some leg room?" he asked with a yawn. He reclined in the small seat, closing his eyes. "And somewhat edible food?"

"At least we'll be home by 9:00 o'clock. Almost have the full weekend," I replied.

"Almost. I did promise Langly we'd stop by," Mulder said in measured pauses, unsure of my reaction. "They've got some new debugging devices to check out."

Normally, I would be annoyed by this intrusion of the Gunmen on our day off. But it didn't seem to matter.

"Okay, as long we aren't there too long."

Mulder cocked his head to one side. "What? You don't mind seeing the guys? Frohike will be there."

"I don't mind Frohike anymore. He's watching out for me now. In case you get out of line," I slapped his arm.

"Great. Frohike's your personal bodyguard now. Hope he doesn't kick my ass," Mulder replied, settling back down to nap before our flight was called.

***

Scully's Apartment
10:20 a.m.

I dropped Mulder off at his apartment, we agreed to meet in a couple hours to visit the Gunmen. I fumbled with the lock on my door, while juggling my suitcases. It felt good to be home.

I proceeded to the bedroom, throwing my luggage down. I hit my answering machine messages while I removed my shoes.

"Hi Dana, this is Dr. Collins' office. We wanted to let you know that your test results came back from your physical and there is no sign of your cancer returning. He's given you a clean bill of health. Please call the office when you return so he can review the results with you. Thank you." Beep.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I had been feeling good the past few months. Stronger. Better than I had in a long time.

"Dana, sweetheart? This is mom. Just seeing if you were back. I heard from Bill and Tara, they'll be in town for a week over Easter. And Bill wants to see you. Don't worry, it's good. Call me when you get in. Love you." Beep.

Mom was running interference between Bill and me, trying to make him see reason where Mulder is concerned. I smiled at the hopeful thought that she made some progress with Bill. I hated fighting with my brother. But we both were stubborn, just like Dad.

"This is Minuteman Cleaners. We found your dry cleaning. You can pick up your suits at anytime. The manager is giving you a $150 credit on your next orders. Thank you. And once again we apologize for the mistake." Beep.

I could really use that credit. I had stacks of cleaning to do.

"Ms. Scully, this is leasing office. Just wanted to let you know we have processed your lease renewal for the next year, as you requested. Due to your good standing as a tenant over the past six years, we are reducing your monthly rent by $75. Please stop by the office at your earliest convenience to complete the paper work. Thank you." Beep. Beep.

I started unpacking happily. At least this weekend was off to a good start

***

Lone Gunmen Headquarters
1:30 p.m.

"My car passed inspection on the first try this morning," I said, perching on a stool. Byers was gone, but Frohike and Langly were there. "I realized the plates were up at the end of the month and went to the service station on the off-chance they could fit me in. And they did. I even had time to go to the license bureau."

"That's all a big conspiracy anyway. State inspections. Just another way for the state to suck you dry," Langly said with disgust.

"Oh, he's just pissed his van gets nailed every year for something. It's a piece of junk," Frohike said, adjusting his glasses and standing near me. He seemed to be studying me from top to bottom.

"The Volkswagen Westphalia is a classic," Langly said defensively. "You just don't appreciate the beauty of it."

Frohike edged closer to me, whispering softly. "How are you, Agent Scully? Everything all right? With, you know."

I smiled at him. "Everything's good, Frohike."

"Treating you right?" he asked, his voice concerned.

"Treating me right," I confirmed.

"You let me know if he's not," Frohike nudged me, emphasizing his words.

There was a knock on the door. Followed by a pause, then four knocks in succession.

"Must be Mulder," Frohike muttered, moving to the door and peering through the peephole. He unlocked the ten locks securing their door.

"Hey, did I miss the party?" Mulder said. He grinned in my direction. "I got a call from the Kershmeister."

"And?" I asked, hoping he wasn't going to send Mulder off again.

"He called to congratulate us in assisting with O'Leary. He's being extradited back to Ireland. Flannery is recovering. He had some high praise for you, Scully."

"Kersh?" I asked.

"Kersh and Flannery," Mulder confirmed, his hands resting on his hips.

If Kersh was pleased with our assignment, maybe he'd cut Mulder a bit more slack now.

I thought about Flannery, and his strange eyes. "He was in bad shape when I found him."

Frohike and Langly exchanged glances, not knowing what we were talking about. I wasn't going to discuss the details of the case with them, but I did give them a vague synopsis. Langly set up his devices as I spoke, Frohike hung on my every word.

"Then he said the strangest thing to me, about the luck of the Irish following me around for a day. He had lost a lot of blood, I doubt he knew what he was saying," I said, walking around the table near Langly.

"You said he was diminutive," Frohike repeated.

"He was a dwarf, Frohike," I clarified. "He's also one of the richest men in Ireland."

"Sounds like you found your very own Leprechaun," mused Langly.

"Sure," I said sarcastically. "And there's a pot of gold at the end of every rainbow."

"Hey, you were the one who was saying what a good day it's been," Langly replied, as he worked on the wiring.

"You don't believe in Irish folk tales, Agent Scully?" asked Frohike. He tried his best at an Irish accent. "Ancient tales of luck and good fortune? Leprechauns and the little people?"

"I think you're one of the little people," Langly said, smirking at Frohike.

"Beats being a hippie," Frohike shot back.

"Boys," Mulder said, draping an arm each over Frohike and Langly. "My skeptical partner doesn't believe in folklore. She'll dismiss her good fortune as mere coincidence, a random series of events connected to nothing except simple fate. Am I right, Scully?"

I folded my arms and stared at the three of them. "I just don't see how anyone can believe that luck or good fortune can be anything else."

"We'll just see how lucky she gets today," Mulder said, with a sly smile.

***

Scully's Apartment
3:40 p.m.

Mulder decided to test Langly's new device in my apartment. His would have been the more logical choice, but ever since we became lovers, he had become overprotective of our privacy. And especially mine. It was both touching and aggravating. The motive was sincere, but the execution bordered on paranoia. He was constantly checking our surrounding to see if anyone was watching or listening.

"I got a clean bill of health from my doctor," I said, wanting to change the subject. I sat on the arm of the couch as he swept the room.

"You did?" Mulder asked, turning to smile at me. He was equally relieved every time I passed a physical. "Must be all the sex. It's therapeutic, you know."

"Oh, and I suppose I should be thanking you for your services," I replied, smiling back at him.

Mulder continued moving around my apartment, moving the device in measured waves. "Sexual healing, Scully. It's good for you."

"I will admit, sexual activity does have it's advantages. Rush of endorphins, burning of calories, increased....circulation," I said, as clinically as I could. "It's cured your insomnia."

"Stop it. You know how you turn me on when you get all scientific," he replied, working his way back to me.

"I know it relieves stress," I said, seriously. "I think we both benefit from that."

Mulder leaned in behind me, lips barely touching my ear. "Beats shooting hoops, that's for sure."

I smiled and moved off the couch. "So, am I all clear?"

"Apparently so. You are bug free. Lucky you," he said, emphasizing the last words.

"Mulder," I warned. "Luck has nothing to do with it. My apartment wasn't bugged."

"Fair enough. But just out of curiosity," Mulder started, setting the device down and folding his hands. "What is the luckiest thing that has every happened to you?"

I turned my head to the side, and thought about it for a long time. Images of all the times Mulder and I narrowly escaped death flashing in my mind. But I settled on something deeper, from my childhood.

"I'd have to say, when I was ten, my father and I were traveling back from a naval base in Alaska. We ended up staying for a couple days in Anchorage. One morning, my father woke me up very early to see something in the sky."

"A UFO?" Mulder asked, with a lopsided grin.

"No," I said, dismissing his comment. "The northern lights. Aurora borealis. It's a rare, but natural phenomena that occurs in the northern hemisphere. They were beautiful. Bands of colored light streaming across the sky. My father said I was lucky if I'd see them once in my lifetime."

Mulder's grin faded into a serious expression. "A once in a lifetime twist of fate."

"If I saw them again, Mulder...then maybe I'd believe in your luck theory," I replied, looking up at him. "Otherwise, it's all just coincidence."

"Think so, Scully?" Mulder asked, gently grabbing me by the arm. "I bet you're wrong."

His mouth lowered on mine, kissing me thoroughly.

"Do that again and you might convince me otherwise," I replied. I wrapped my arms around his neck and drew his face to mine. My lips parted underneath his, his tongue exploring with familiarity. We breathed in time, neither one wanting to break the kiss. I felt his hand move lower, touching my left buttock.

"Dana?" called a female voice in the room.

Mulder and I separated, jumping apart. It was my neighbor, Mrs. Finch. She was standing in the middle of my living room, holding an envelope. I felt my face flush red and Mulder put his hands on his hips.

"I guess we forgot to lock the door," he muttered under his breath.

Mrs. Finch didn't worry me. She thought Mulder and I have been at it for years, what with the visits to my apartment at all hours. "What is it, Mrs. Finch?"

"While you were..." she shot an accusing glance at Mulder. "...out, this arrived for you."

She walked towards me, using her cane to steady her steps. She handed me an envelope. "I signed for it, must be important. From the IRS. You aren't in any trouble, are you?"

I raised my eyebrow. "No, I'm not. Thank you, Mrs. Finch."

She made a disapproving face and moved to the door, talking to herself. "I'll let you two carry on."

Mulder shut the door behind her, mimicking her posture and movements. "Dear God, promise me you won't grow old."

"I'll try. But you've given me enough gray hairs already," I said, opening the envelope. There was letter and a couple inserts inside. I moved the letter to the front and started reading. "Apparently, a mistake has been made on my filing for 1997. It's a refund check...from the IRS."

"What's the amount?"

I flipped the papers around and stared at the check, dumbfounded by the number. Mulder shifted so he could read over my shoulder.

"Three thousand dollars!" Mulder exclaimed. "Damn, Scully. I want the name of your accountant, so he can mess up my return."

"I file my own taxes, Mulder," I said defensively, jabbing him in the ribs. "But I don't understand how I make this mistake."

"You know those government agencies, things are always slipping through the cracks," he leaned back against the couch. "Maybe you just forgot a zero. Or two."

I stared at the check. Plain as day. To the order of Dana K. Scully. "What do you think I should with it?"

Mulder folded his arms, raising his eyebrows. He shook his head and shrugged. "Spend it, Scully. It's your money."

I grinned to myself. It was an unexpected surprise. Like winning a small lottery. These things never happened to me.

"What are you doing tonight?" I asked suddenly.

"What do you want to do?" he shot back, anticipating my answer.

***

5:30 p.m.

I decided to go to Baltimore, for dinner, to a very expensive restaurant I knew about. They served the most delicious seafood. It was also private and exclusive and I called ahead for reservations. I sent Mulder home to change clothes into something more formal.

I had only a couple dresses I could wear, and I settled on a long, burgundy velvet one. It had a scooped neckline and a slit up to my knee. Mulder would like that. I scurried around my bedroom, trying to get ready. He'd be back soon. I raced around wearing only my undergarments and stockings, not paying attention to where I was stepping when something sharp pierced my foot.

"Ouch!" I exclaimed, standing on one leg.

I dropped to my knees, searching the floor for the perpetrator.

"I don't believe it," I said out loud. My fingers reached out and picked up a diamond earring.

I'd lost it years ago, or thought I did. They were a graduation present from my mom and dad, small quarter carat stones. It glistened in my palm.

"This can't be," I whispered.

I was over by the closet, near my dresser. I ran my hand over the carpet. I must have vacuumed it a hundred times over. Maybe it was the other earring, the one I hadn't lost. That made more sense that it fell out of my jewelry box than finding the missing one.

I stood up and rummaged through the box on the dresser. Laying underneath my necklaces, right where I left it was the other earring. I held them side by side in my fingers, studying them together. It had been so long since they were a pair.

Amazing stroke of . . .

I wasn't about to finish that thought.

***

Interstate 95
7:15 p.m.

It was a beautifully clear night, I had watched the sun go down as Mulder drove us to Baltimore. My left hand was laced with his right one across the front seat. "I can drive to Baltimore with one hand," he had joked. I felt his fingers tighten around mine and I looked over and saw him smiling at me.

His hair was brushed back from his forehead and he had on his darkest suit underneath his trench. He did not wear a tie, instead, he wore a crisp white shirt that buttoned into a thin mandarin collar. He looked wonderful.

"What?" I asked, when he kept smiling.

"You," he replied, turning his eyes back on the road.

I turned back to the window, watching the Maryland landscape go by. We didn't talk for the next half hour, words really weren't necessary. I saw the cities goes by, could see the water in the distance here and there. The humming of the car almost lulled me to sleep when I saw something that snapped me wide awake.

"Stop the car!" I demanded, sitting straight up and pulling my hand from his.

"Here?" We were in the middle of deserted stretch, with open land on either side.

"Yes, just stop the car, Mulder!" I ordered. He pulled over to the shoulder of the road. As soon as the car stopped, I opened the door and ran out into the field.

I turned my eyes up into the night sky, circling around as I ran. It took just seconds for Mulder to catch up.

"What is it, Scully?" he asked, voice full of concern.

"Look!" I said, pointing Mulder overhead.

The sky was alive with lights. Vibrating and humming across the heavens in blues, reds, golds. It shimmered low on the horizon. Rivaled only the stars.

"It's the aurora borealis," I whispered. "This is can't be. Not this far south."

"Well," Mulder said, his breath white in the cold. "It's not a rainbow . . ."

His arms surrounded me from behind, sheltering me against the bitter night air. I was transfixed at the phenomena, I kept looking up. My head rested back on Mulder's shoulder.

"I don't believe it, Mulder. I just don't believe it...." I muttered, as the wind blew my hair in all directions.

I felt his arms tighten around me. "Believe it, Scully."

We shivered against each other in the field, watching the lights dance above.

***

Lancaster's
9:45 p.m.

We sat in the cigar study of Lancaster's, by the fire for an after dinner drink before heading home. The restaurant was deserting for the night, we were the only two in the room. Mulder had just downed a single tequila shot, since I limited his drinking this evening.

"So, Scully, what do you think now?"

"Now?" I repeated, sipping the last of my Chardonnay. I swirled the wine across my tongue.

"Seeing the aurora. Did that convince you?"

"Convince me Flannery is a Leprechaun?" I asked, the wine had made me feel mellow. "No, Mulder, it didn't."

Mulder kissed me softly, his lips brushing against mine. "But you said seeing the aurora was pure luck. A once in a lifetime experience?"

"Doesn't make him a Leprechaun. But maybe he has another ability. To make you believe that you have the power to make your own fate, for period of time," I said. My tongue darted out, tasting the salt and tequila off his lips. He watched me lustfully as I licked my own. "It's called the power of suggestion."

"I have a suggestion, Scully," he asked, running a finger across my moist lips.

"What?"

"Let me take you home, show you what getting lucky means to me," he said softly.

The End