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Title: As Luck Would Have It
Author: Waddles52
Rating: Pg-13
Category: MT, MSR
Spoiler: Written for the MR monthly fic challenge.
Post-Ep for The Goldberg Variation.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Chris Carter
and 1013 productions.
Feedback: I would love to hear from you at
waddles52@wmconnect.com
Archives: Please ask first.
Thanks: To Lisa, a first class beta and friend,
and all the great people at Mulder's Refuge.
Mulder, have you ever tried to calculate the number
of hours we've spent waiting in airports, the delayed
flights, the cancelled flights, the cups of coffee .
. ."
"Scully, I'll leave that to you. The figures would
be too mind boggling for my unscientific mind to wrap
itself around," Mulder interrupted, moving gingerly
as he tried to find a comfortable position. "Why the
questions?"
"I don't know. It would just be nice if we had a
fraction of Henry Weem's luck. We could breeze right
through, not have to sign all of the forms for our
weapons, be first to be seated . . . I guess I'm
just sick of airports," she sighed.
"But remember," Mulder pointed out. "Every time
Weems has good luck, someone else gets it in the ass."
"You're right, of course. Speaking of getting it in
the ass, how is yours after that quick trip to the
floor below?"
"Very bruised, I'm sure. Would you like to examine
it?" Mulder asked, waggling his eyebrows.
"You see, Mulder. You are lucky."
Mulder's face reflected his curiosity.
"I'm not going to shoot you for that stupid remark."
He was a bit taken aback. "It really does hurt,
Scully, and my back is killing me."
"Mulder, you ran here and there off and on all day.
I find it hard to believe that you're in that much
pain."
"That's right, Scully. Ignore my pain-wracked body.
When I'm in traction I'll remember your concern."
"Jeeze, Mulder, just go home and grab a beer and the
latest issue of Celebrity Skin. Fill the tub with warm
water and have a nice, long soak," she advised,
shaking her head.
The boarding announcement for their flight
interrupted their conversation. As luck would have
it, their seats were among the last called.
Mulder reached for his carry on with his left hand
and dropped it. "Ow!. My arm!" he exclaimed,
grabbing it for emphasis.
"Mulder, I saw the injury from the bullet. It was
barely more than a scratch. Cut the histrionics."
"But my arm really hurts," he stated.
"Come on before they give our seats away."
Mulder retrieved his bag, this time using his right
hand and followed Scully to the boarding area, moving
stiffly.
Mulder was forced to sit in the center seat next to a
very unsympathetic Scully on his right, and a very
portly salesman who should have had two seats, on his left. He
soon realized that he was on the flight from hell.
Every time the salesman brushed against his sore arm,
which was often, he stifled a groan. No sense in
giving Scully any more ammunition for her campaign to
crown him wimp of the year.
By the time they landed, his arm was screaming for
pain relief, and his feet had gone to sleep. Scully
was waiting impatiently for him to move. As he shook
his feet to get the circulation going, he noticed that the movement really made his lower back hurt.
"What now?" he grumbled and pushed himself out of his
seat.
Mulder gasped and grabbed the seat in front of him to
keep from going down.
"Mulder, what seems to be the hold up?" she griped.
"My back!"
"What?"
"My back is hurting so badly I can't move," he
answered slowly, emphasizing each word.
"Come on, Mulder. Give it a rest. I want to get
home."
"Scully, I'm not kidding. I can't straighten up."
"Mulder . . ." She started to really tear into him
until she noticed that all of the color had drained
from his face, with his breath coming fast and hard.
"You're not kidding are you? Oh, Mulder, I'm so
sorry!"
"Thanks for the apology. Now, could you figure out
how to get me out of here?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I still think you should have let them call an
ambulance," Scully fussed as she pushed Mulder
through the airport in a wheelchair.
"No, I just want to go home and soak in the tub," he
sighed, weary of the whole business.
"Sorry, partner, but you're going to the ER. The tub
will still be there when you're released."
"I'll just get a cab, then. I don't need you to
drive me anywhere," he argued.
Scully released the handles of the wheelchair.
"Fine, Mulder. The cab exit is way over there. I'm
sure you'll be able to find a cab driver to help you
in and out of the car and carry your bag up to your
apartment."
She retrieved her bag from Mulder's lap and watched
as he tried to maneuver the wheelchair through the
crowded airport. He hadn't made it more than twenty
feet before he stopped and buried his face in his
hands. Scully was soon at his side. "I see you
haven't made much progress toward the cab."
Mulder scrubbed his hands over his face and looked up
at her. "I surrender. If you can quit gloating long
enough to push me to the car pick-up, I'll let you
take me to the hospital," he sighed, pain and
exhaustion etched on his face.
"You're doing the right thing," she assured him.
Mulder mumbled something under his breath as Scully
began to push him toward the exit.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Scully opened the door to his apartment as Mulder
followed her in, bent over, his back almost parallel
to the floor. She put their bags by the door and was
ready to assist him if necessary.
"Mulder, I'm so sorry I gave you such a hard way to
go today, but you were moving around so well I didn't
suspect you were injured."
"Sure, fine. Just let me get to the couch."
"No couch, Mulder. You need to be in bed."
"Then point me in the right direction. It's a little
difficult to see where I'm going. All I can see is
the floor."
Scully guided him to his bed and helped him sit on
the side. "Let me get you a glass of water so you
can take the medication the doctor prescribed, then
I'll help you change into something more
comfortable."
Scully quickly returned with the water and
medication. She handed him the glass of water and
gave him a pain pill and a muscle relaxant. Mulder
gulped them down and handed the glass back to her.
She set it on the nightstand and looked at Mulder for
a few seconds before speaking.
"Let's get that jacket and shirt off. That wound on
your arm didn't look that large in Chicago. I can't
figure out why it bled so much on the plane."
"Oh, that's courtesy of the round mound of stereo
sound. He took his seat and a good part of mine,"
Mulder winced as Scully pulled the coat sleeve over
his sore arm.
"Stereo sound?" Scully questioned as she began to
unbutton his shirt.
"His company sells sound systems. Hey, Scully. I
could get used to this," he commented as she began to
remove his shirt.
"Mulder, need I remind you that I'm still carrying my
weapon?"
"I've got my weapon too, primed and ready," he
retorted. Oh man, did he just say that? Those drugs
must be doozies. His mouth was certainly becoming
very relaxed.
"Mulder, if I thought you could actually draw your
weapon and use it right now, I might be concerned."
"Ooh, shot down."
"Exactly. Let me get a clean shirt from your bag and
I'll be right back."
Scully returned with a t-shirt and sweats. "Might as
well get comfortable," she said, pulling the hem of
his undershirt from his pants.
"That word does not currently exist in my
vocabulary."
"Well, we'll just have to change that." She pulled
his undershirt off and replaced it with the T-shirt.
"How are you holding up?"
"Just peachy," he grumped.
"Okay. I think it would be easier if you were to lie
down to get your pants off and your sweats on,"
Scully decided.
"I don't think my back will unbend enough for me to
lie flat," Mulder moaned.
"You have a lumbral-sacral strain and your muscles
are in spasm, but I assure you, lying flat on your
back is possible."
Scully helped him through some strange maneuvers but
eventually he was lying flat on his back, waiting for
the pain to ease. She slipped his shoes off,
unbuckled his belt and began to pull his zipper down.
Mulder fought hard to keep it under control. Despite
the dose of muscle relaxant, he found that it didn't
affect every muscle. "Damn Henry Weems! Here he
lay, with Scully fulfilling one of his recurring
fantasies and he couldn't do a thing about it! Life
was so unfair!"
He was yanked from his thoughts as Scully deftly
pulled his trousers off. She pulled the sweats over
his feet and began to slide them over his long legs.
Mulder just knew that he was embarrassing himself to
the max. How could Scully not notice his reaction to
her helpful ministrations? At the very least he
expected a slap to the face, or maybe she would go
all out and shoot him again and put him out of his
misery.
"I need a little help here, Mulder," she said,
interrupting his thoughts again. "I need you to raise your
bottom off the bed just a little so I can pull your
sweats all the way up."
Mulder complied and saw stars when the pain of that
slight movement hit him full force. A loud groan
escaped from him just as Scully finished her task.
"I'm sorry, Mulder. All finished."
"Well, that took care of my little problem," he
thought. "Nothing like a nice back dislocation to
kill the urge."
"Mulder, are you still with me?" Scully asked,
concern in her voice.
"Um, yeah."
"Can I get you anything, or do anything for you?"
"What a loaded question," Mulder thought. There were
several things she could do for him to make him feel
MUCH better; however, her loaded service weapon was a
deterrent to the health and well-being of his, er,
weapon. Might as well take advantage of what he
could get.
"Well, I do need a few things from the grocery
store," he hedged.
"Oh? I guess I could pick up a few things for you.
Let me get my note pad and pen and I'll be right back
to make a list."
He had to chuckle. Scully was always prepared for
all eventualities. All he needed was something to
drink and snack on. She really didn't need to make a
list. He could call for a meal to be delivered
later. What was taking her so long anyway? He heard
her go into the bathroom and start to rummage around.
When was the last time he had cleaned in there?
This could get embarrassing.
Scully came out of the bathroom and sat on the side
of the bed. "Mulder, do you even remember the last
time you shopped for groceries?"
"Uh . . ."
"That's what I thought. I've made a preliminary
list. Take a look and see what you want to add."
He took the notepad from her and squinted. "Damn,
those pills are starting to work. Must be strong.
Strong is good," he thought as he yawned and began to
concentrate on the list. "Let's see, OJ, milk, eggs,
cheese . . .so far, so good." He continued to read
silently. "Potatoes, tomatoes, cucumber, onion,
lettuce, hmm, don't really need all that. Bread,
cold cuts, mayonnaise, salad dressing, chicken
breasts. Well, maybe she's going to fix me a meal
before she leaves. Hey, I can handle that."
He started down the next column. "Cereal, oatmeal,
bacon, cottage cheese, yogurt, skim milk. Whoa!
Cottage cheese, yogurt and skim milk?"
"Scully, I don't even eat some of this stuff."
"I know, but I do. I thought if it was all right
with you I'd stay for a few days, or at least until
you're able to get around a little better."
"Uh, sure. You know you're always welcome here, but
you don't have to stay. I can manage," he proclaimed,
then moaned quite loudly when he shifted in bed.
"Mulder, I won't leave you when you're in this much
pain."
He nodded slightly, not trusting himself to speak for
fear that he would say something stupid and mess
things up.
"Good. Now, is there anything I've left off?"
"Beer, pretzels, beef jerky? You know, guy stuff?"
"No beer, Mulder. You shouldn't drink when you're
taking narcotic medications. Baked pretzels would
make a good snack, but beef jerky? Honestly,
Mulder?"
"No, Scully. I just wanted to see what you would do.
As you know, I live a pretty simple life here.
Anything you think I need will be fine."
"You're sure?"
"Positive."
"I don't suppose you have any body lotion anywhere
around?" Scully asked.
"Uh, no. My skin retains its silky, smooth softness
naturally," he grinned, trying to imitate a
commercial.
Scully laughed, and Mulder was pleased that he had
been responsible for pulling her out of her serious
persona, if only for a moment.
"I was thinking that a massage would help your back
feel better," she explained, still chuckling.
"No, I don't have anything like that, but a massage
sounds wonderful."
"Great, now you rest and let those medications work.
I shouldn't be gone too long. Where do you usually
shop?"
"At Joe's Corner Market. It's two blocks down then
over two streets, or here's a big superstore a few
miles down the road. It will be pretty crowded right
now with all of the government checks and food stamps
just issued."
"I see. Joe's it is."
"Tell Joe you're shopping for me. He'll treat you
right."
"Will do."
"My wallet is in my trousers, or you can have Joe put
it on my tab and I'll settle with him later."
"I'll have him put it on your tab, and I do intend to
pay for my share," she informed him.
"You will not!" Mulder exclaimed. "You're doing me a
favor here. I'd better not hear that you paid for
one thing. Joe will let me know. He loves to talk."
"Fine, Mulder. I'll have Joe put everything on your
tab. Can you think of anything else before I leave?"
she asked.
"Why are you doing this? You've acted so impatient
and downright pissed since Chicago that I thought
you'd just want to get as far away from me as
possible," Mulder yawned.
"Actually, I feel the opposite of that, Mulder. You
rest now and I promise, we'll have a long talk when I
return."
"B-but," Mulder stammered.
"Rest," Scully ordered. She found the remote control
for the TV on the nightstand and handed it to him,
then leaned down and gave him a quick peck on the
cheek.
She quickly exited the room, leaving a quite
surprised Mulder with his mouth hanging open. After
the shock wore off he turned on the TV to an all news
station and dozed off.
As he dozed lightly, he kept hearing the words Joe's
Corner Market, shooting, hostages and police over and
over. Something about that finally bothered him
enough that he roused up and paid attention to the
announcer on TV. What he heard next made him wish
that he had been dreaming.
There had been a robbery attempt at Joe's Corner
Market and something had gone terribly wrong. Shots had
been fired and hostages taken. The police had called in
the S.W.A.T. team.
Damn Henry Weems and his good luck! Why did he and
Scully seem to be on the receiving end of the bad
luck?
"Got to get to Scully," he mumbled as he clicked off
the TV and threw down the remote. He slowly rolled
to the side of the bed and steeled himself for the next
step. It would be painful beyond belief, but he had
to get to Joe's, and damn the pain!
Mulder managed to rise from the bed, cursing and
groaning the entire time, but he was up and
reasonably straight.
The next task was to find his sneakers and jacket.
Oh! His weapon, car keys and wallet were also
essential items. He found everything quickly for a
change.
Getting the sneakers on presented a challenge but
Mulder gritted his teeth and forced his body to bend
enough so he could reach down and tie the shoestrings.
That task completed, he made his way to his car as fast
as he could move in his condition. He had to get to
Scully!
The area around Joe's Corner Market resembled a riot
zone. Police were scurrying about, talking to each
other, calling in reports as the S.W.A.T. team was
gearing up. Spectators were treating it like a
circus, vying for the best spots to view the action,
while harried officers tried to keep them behind a
hastily strung barricade.
Mulder shoved his way through the crowd, wincing as
he made contact with this body and that. The pain
pills had long since ceased to offer any relief.
Well, he would just have to tough it out until he had
Scully out of harm's way. Then he would deal with
it. Damn that Henry Weems!
He finally managed to push his way to the front. He
flashed his badge and a young officer pulled the tape
up so that he didn't have to bend very much. That
was fortunate. Now, if he could just hold the pain
back until Scully was safe. He headed for the person
who seemed to be in charge and introduced himself.
"We didn't call in the FBI," the police captain said
defensively. "In fact, you really shouldn't be
here."
The S.W.A.T. team was ready and waiting to hear form
their reconnaissance team. Mulder could sense that
they were loaded for bear and he feared that their
attitude would more than likely result in collateral
damage.
"Look, Captain," he paused to look at the man's name
tag, "Jackson. My partner is in there, along with a
nice, old man named Joe, and maybe some other
customers. I'm sure your recon people are well-
trained and that the team will do its best to handle
this situation, but I have first hand knowledge of
that building and its layout. I know that building
like the back of my hand. You need me!"
Captain Jackson hesitated for a few minutes, sizing
Mulder up. Evidently he passed muster because the
tall, black man motioned him to follow. The recon
team was back.
Mulder had to push himself to keep up with the
captain, who either had very long legs, or the back
problem was getting much worse. The captain looked
at him rather oddly and Mulder made himself
straighten up a bit and try harder to hide the
symptoms and his discomfort.
Mulder, Captain Jackson and Captain Selnik, the
S.W.A.T. team leader, listened as the recon team
reported.
"We were unable to see much. That old coot has boxes
stacked every which way. I'm surprised the fire
marshal hasn't shut him down.
"It may be a bit cluttered, but Joe," Mulder noted,
emphasizing the owner's name, "Usually has anything
you need, and if he doesn't have it, he'll get it."
The two recon people looked at Mulder quizzically
until Captain Selnik motioned them to continue. "We
were able to get a mike down an exhaust vent. It
appears there's only one perp and he's plenty
nervous."
"What about the others?" Mulder questioned
impatiently.
"Who is this guy, Cap?" the youngest team member
asked, clearly resentful of Mulder's presence.
"Sergeant Clarkson, this man is a special agent with
the FBI. He knows the owner, and his partner also
happens to be in there. He is also very familiar
with the lay out of the store, so give him the
respect he's due. He may be able to help us resolve
this situation without injuries. Now, continue your
report," Captain Jackson ordered.
Clarkson looked at Selnik who nodded to him to
continue.
"The shots heard earlier were evidently warning
shots. Miss FBI . . ."
"Special Agent Scully," Mulder interjected, beginning
to lose his patience with the smart aleck Clarkson.
"Evidently Special Agent Scully tried to stop the
robbery and wound up surrendering to protect the
owner."
"How many total?" Selnik asked.
"As Sergeant Clarkson said earlier, we couldn't get a
clear view," the other team member reported. "We did
hear two distinct voices besides the perp's."
"No chance of a sniper getting off a shot?"
"No, sir," both team members responded.
"Did you check the back door?" Mulder inquired.
"No, we assumed it would be locked."
"It's not. Joe always leaves the door open on the
day the beer truck comes. He's getting up in years
and his arthritis has been acting up. The driver
knows to just come on in and put the delivery in the
cooler. If I'm not mistaken, that's the truck right
behind the road block."
Captains Jackson and Selnik looked at each other,
then back at Mulder. "What do you think?"
"It may be our only choice unless we wait it out."
Selnik answered, "And in the meantime the perp gets
more nervous by the minute."
"Agent Mulder, since you're the only one familiar
with . . ." Captain Johnson began.
"I thought you'd never ask," Mulder sighed. "Have
you established phone contact?"
"Yes."
"Tell him that you're moving out, giving him what he
wants. Get rid of the onlookers, even if you have to
take them to jail, and get that beer truck up here.
I'm going to need his uniform. Joe's pretty sharp.
He knows me and he knows what I do for a living.
He'll take his cues from me and my partner, if she's
in any position to help."
"Agent Mulder, this is a very risky maneuver. Your
backup won't be in position to help you for several
minutes if this thing goes south," Selnik reminded
him.
"The only back-up I trust is inside that store,"
Mulder stated.
Mulder changed into the beer deliveryman's uniform
and pulled the truck up to the loading zone in back
of the store. The police had done a good job of
clearing everyone out so there were no distractions.
He found the back door unlocked, just as he'd
suspected.
He climbed down from the truck and froze in position.
The back spasms were really getting worse. He forced
himself to breathe through the pain and once again
stood as straight as he possibly could. He hustled
several cases of beer onto the two-wheeler, grabbed a
clipboard and patted the jacket pocket that held his
smaller back-up weapon. He took another deep breath
to calm his nerves and quell his pain. He opened the
door and yelled. "Beer man!"
Angry cursing was heard from the front of the store.
Mulder could hear Joe explaining to the robber that
he had nothing to worry about. He put some beer in
the cooler and saw Joe's face light up when he
recognized him.
Scully's face was harder to read. He thought he saw
relief and concern, but something else had crowded in
and he couldn't get a handle on it. Although he
wanted to linger on Scully's features, he decided
he'd better get back to work so that he could free
her from this nightmare.
He was relieved to see that there were no other
customers in the store. Mulder sensed that the
robber had relaxed a bit. The UNSUB had hidden his
gun behind his back which lead Mulder to believe that
he planned on letting him carry on with his duties
and leave.
Mulder finished putting the beer in the cooler and
headed toward the counter with the invoice. "How's
it goin', Joe? Looks like business is a little slow
today."
"Yeah, it's been off a bit. Seems like everyone goes
to that big, fancy store at the beginning of the
month. I heard they got triple coupons this week."
"Yeah, but where do they go the rest of the time?"
Mulder asked, flashing Scully a big grin as he passed
the invoice over to Joe.
The robber stood close to Joe, reading over the
invoice, making sure there were no messages.
"You trainin' somebody new?" Mulder asked as Joe
handed the invoice back. "'Bout time you got some
help." Mulder made a big show of looking over the
invoice. "Oops, Joe. You forgot to sign it."
Mulder handed it back over and managed to drop it
just as Joe started to reach for it. Mulder lunged
for it, but surprised the perp instead, sending them
both crashing into a display stand of potato chips.
Scully and Joe joined in the fray and before another
minute had passed, Scully had the man in cuffs, Joe
had his gun, and Mulder was draped over the display
stand. He was trying to keep from screaming, as the
pain in his back went from excruciating to unbearable
in the amount of time it took to knock the UNSUB
down.
"Joe, keep the gun on him and push him out the door.
This place should be swarming with cops in a minute
flat. As soon as they get here, have them get an
ambulance here on the double," Scully ordered,
stepping over the spilled bags of chips to get to
Mulder.
The bullet graze on Mulder's arm had reopened and
blood was dripping down his arm onto the floor. A
split second before Scully reached him, the wire
display stand decided it had suffered enough abuse
and collapsed, spilling Mulder and the rest of the
chips onto the floor.
Mulder was no longer able to hold his pain in. He
screamed when he hit the floor, then held his breath
as if that would somehow help.
Scully pushed the stand to the side. "Breathe,
Mulder," she implored. He let his breath out and
took in a ragged lungful of air. "That's better.
Don't try to move. An ambulance should be here in a
few minutes," she assured him as she watched several
policemen take the robber into custody.
Mulder turned his eyes toward Scully, in too much
pain to speak. She reached for his right hand and
squeezed it. To her relief, he squeezed back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mulder felt like he had been asleep for days. He
finally decided that he had rested long enough. He
opened his eyes and tried to focus. The first thing
he saw was Scully. "Nice view," he thought, wishing
he could voice the words, but his mouth felt like it
was glued together.
Scully gave him a big smile and suddenly it all came
back to him. The attempted robbery, Scully's life
threatened once again, his daring rescue and then the
overpowering all-consuming pain.
"How are you?" Scully's beautiful voice asked.
He did a quick system check and found that the pain
was much better but it did hurt when he tried to move
his legs. He was a little concerned that his head
and feet felt weighted down and was just about to say
something when Scully spoke again.
"You've been heavily sedated for the past few days.
That's why you feel so groggy and your mouth is so
dry. Would you like something to drink?"
He would have nodded yes but at that moment he felt
something pull on his neck and legs. He grunted in
surprise.
"You're in a specially designed bed that applies
traction once an hour. After you tangled with the
robbery suspect and the display rack, your muscles
clenched tight and wouldn't relax. That's why you've
been so heavily sedated. The doctor thought the
traction device might help.
"Um," Mulder acknowledged, his mouth still too dry to
manage much more.
Scully produced a cup of water and held it for him as
he sipped the cool liquid through a straw. "Take it
easy or you'll choke on it."
Mulder drank the entire cup before he felt
sufficiently refreshed to speak. "You okay?"
"Yes, Mulder, I'm fine, really," she emphasized.
"You and the display case were the only casualties."
"When can I get out of here?" Mulder questioned.
"Your doctor has scheduled several days of physical
therapy and traction treatments. You'll have to stay
until those are completed. This is not something I
can take care of at home," she emphasized.
Mulder felt pretty let down. "You must still be
pretty mad at me, huh?"
"Not at all. In fact, I never was."
"You could have fooled me."
"I know, Mulder. My behavior must have been pretty
confusing to you. I really can't explain it. I felt
myself pushing you away, when in reality all I wanted
was to move our relationship forward, become closer."
For once Mulder was speechless.
"I'm sorry, Mulder. I should have realized you
didn't share my feelings."
"Scully, you don't know how wrong you are." He
cleared his throat. "Guess I'm going to need some
more water before I finish this speech," he said
hoarsely.
Scully quickly filled his cup and held if for him.
When he had drank his fill, Mulder continued.
"Scully, I've been waiting to take our relationship
to a more intimate level for so long, but I didn't
want to push you into anything." He took her right
hand and raised it to his lips. "Sorry, but that's
the best I can do right now."
"Well, I'm not in traction," Scully informed him as
she leaned over him and kissed him on the lips, full
and deep.
"No, you're not. Thank God," Mulder agreed when they
came up for air.
Scully straightened up. "There will be more time for
this when you're out of traction."
"Oh, I could probably use some practice," Mulder
hinted.
"Skinner called to check on your condition and said
he would stop by later to congratulate you on your
cooperation with the local authorities for a change."
"Ah, I see. Practice later?"
"Yes, I think that can be arranged. I heard from
Henry Weems while you were sedated," Scully informed
him.
"Oh? Is he still having a run of good luck?"
"Depends on how you look at it. He and Maggie Lupone
have decided to get married. While they were
visiting Richie in the hospital to tell him their
good news, the apartment building burned to the
ground. They returned to find only smoldering rubble
and a messenger from the Commuter Airline Company.
Seems like they've been trying to find Henry since
shortly after the crash to offer him a substantial
settlement."
"Wow," Mulder commented. "I'd hate to be that
messenger."
Scully laughed. "It seems like Henry's good luck has
continued, but the bad luck seems to have been
confined to the Chicago area. I know you felt like
the bad luck was following you, but I think you're
safe now."
"Yes, I feel as if my luck has definitely taken a
change for the better," he grinned up at her.
"What's this about luck, Agent?" Skinner asked,
entering the room.
"I was just telling Agent Scully how lucky I was to
have such an excellent partner," Mulder answered
quickly. "And that I can't wait to get back to
work."
"Well, it looks like you'll have to take a little
recuperation time before that happens. As luck would
have it, Agent Scully is owed some comp time and it
looks like this would be the best time to take it. I
know you don't want to close the office down, but I
think it would be best to have you both off at the
same time," Skinner decided. "Get better, Agent
Mulder. See you both in a couple of weeks." He
quickly exited the room.
"Well, that was short and sweet," Mulder commented.
"Nice that you have some comp time coming."
"You feeling lucky, Mulder?" Scully asked as she
leaned down to kiss him again.
"Very," Mulder agreed as he accepted the kiss.
"Lucky indeed."
The End
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