Hi.  This story is kind of a mixture of a B-movie and an  X-File. It was kind
of a sequel to the three Leprechaun movies at first, but I've changed the
storyline a little. Anyone who's seen these extremely cheesy movies knows
that the stories in the three didn't match too well anyway. If you haven't
seen the Leprechaun trilogy, and if you like your cheese, go rent one of
them, or all of them. You don't have to see them in order to understand this
story, however. Anyway, this story's just for fun so don't take it too
seriously. I encourage you to e-mail me and tell me exactly what you think.
There isn't a detail too small to complain about, feel free to rip me to
shreds, but tell me what you like, too. This was sent to EMXC last winter
some time, just warning you. It’s rated maybe PG-13 to an R for language.
It’s a borderline romance although I am a devout anti-relationshipper.

The X-Files and every wonderful aspect thereof belong to the brilliant Mr.
Chris Carter, FOX Broadcasting, and Ten-Thirteen Productions. The Leprechaun
movies and Fazio belong to Trimark Pictures, I think.
Oh, and the quickly-mentioned *Lois and Clark* belongs to ABC and DC Comics.
Sorry. I use all this stuff without permission and I apologize sincerely.

"Three Wishes" by JBeanfest@aol.com 

  Las Vegas, Nevada
October 20, 10:12 p.m.

     Not far from the busy colored lights and action of the strip, in the endless
shadows masking the alley behind the Lucky Shamrock he sat. Beside a dumpster
twice as tall as he, bathed in darkness, he concentrated on the task at hand,
his dark green eyes glowing with satisfaction and greed. Little fingers
carefully counted out lustrous golden coins, one by one, and stacked them in
impeccably straight stacks of ten.
     "Ninety-eight," the little man whispered, "ninety-nine," suddenly an uneasy
silence descended on the dark alley. A coin was missing. In a fit of
passionate rage, the little man kicked at the dumpster, leaving an imprint
from the buckle on his shoe in the dirty green metal side.
     "Stevens," the man hissed, starting for the back entrance. As the door swung
open, light spilled into the alley and onto the little man's face, revealing
a malevolent, dagger-toothed smile.

Washington DC.
October 22, 9:06 a.m. 

     On the screen, the slide showed a dark-haired man in his early thirties
dressed in a glittering blue suit. He appeared to be some type of performer.
Scully surveyed the picture, noting two outstanding things: the look of
terror frozen in time on his face, and the fact that he had been cut in half
at the waist. Scully winced and looked over to Mulder. He stood to the right
of the screen, looking back at her with a slight smile on his face. 
     "Scully, meet Don Stevens, otherwise known as "Fazio the Great."
     "Well, I see he wasn't David Copperfield. What happened?"
     "He was performing his act in a second-rate Vegas casino when he was joined
by an assistant." Scully nodded. Mulder continued, "In front of a crowd of
about twenty, his "assistant" slightly botched the old saw-a-man-in-half
bit." Mulder reached over and handed Scully the file.
     "So, what's your interest in this case?" She asked. Mulder went to the next
slide, a black-and-white that looked to be taken from casino security
cameras. "What am I supposed to be looking for?"
     "Him," Mulder pointed out a very small man sitting on a roulette table. He
was dressed in a  suit, a top-hat and little shoes with big ridiculous
buckles on them. "Twenty witnesses have somehow all come to the same
conclusion that he is a leprechaun."
     "Mulder," Scully sighed, "leprechauns are fairy tales; they're about as
legitimate as Santa Claus."
     "Next you're going to tell me the Easter Bunny's a fake." Mulder said,
smiling back at her. 
     "Did it occur to anyone that this was just a sick, vertically challenged man
in a Halloween costume?"
     "Leprechaun or not, this man is responsible for one death, possibly more.
Grab your dice and your lucky horseshoe, Scully. We're going to Las Vegas."

Las Vegas, Nevada
3:34 P.M.
     On either side of the road, tall, elaborate buildings reached toward the
pale blue desert sky. In their green rented Ford Taurus, Mulder and Scully
cruised the Las Vegas strip, headed for the Mirage. Al Fred, a blackjack
dealer at the Mirage, had been at the Lucky Shamrock the night Don "Fazio"
Stevens was murdered. Al had reportedly been bitten by a rather short man in
a green suit an hour before Fazio's last exit. In the passenger seat of the
Taurus, Scully glanced over the files once more. In the past week, four
deaths had occurred at the Lucky Shamrock, three accidental. One woman, Tammy
Toman had fallen down an empty elevator shaft, a young man named Jeff had
drowned, while skinny-dipping with his friend Michele, in the pool, and the
owner himself, Wayne Grayson, had been electrocuted while plugging in his
television. Since then the hotel and casino had been closed. The deaths were
ruled accidental, but Scully figured Mulder  thought they were somehow
connected with the leprechaun.
     "Al Fred mentioned something about graffiti on the elevator wall," Mulder
said as he pulled into a space in the Mirage parking garage, between a pink
Lincoln and a Volkswagen Minibus. 
     "I remember a mention of that in the police report, but what does it have to
do with the murder of Don Stevens?" Scully asked. Lately, she had been
experiencing less resistance to Mulder's ideas, but the idea of evil Irish
fairies seemed just too far past the realm of plausibility. 
     "Scully, there's only one thing you have to do to a leprechaun to get on his
bad side." the last elevator on the right was the one. Mulder pressed the
button.
     "And that is?" Scully asked. The elevator opened, and she followed Mulder
inside. He looked around, then kneeled on the floor to get a good look.
     "One should never try to steal a leprechaun's gold," Mulder said. He looked
up to Scully and gave her a little half-smile. There it was, scrawled plainly
on the wall in green crayon. 
     It was at least thirty degrees closer to decent inside the casino. Mulder
walked quickly through rows of slot machines, headed for the blackjack
tables. He paused in front of a machine titled "Luck 'o the Irish," reached
into his pocket and pulled out a quarter. He looked to Scully and smiled
before popping it in. A rainbow, a shamrock and a pot of gold fell in line
across the machine. He lost.
     "Try your luck, Scully?"
     "Mulder, do you know the odds? These things lure you in and take all you
have." Mulder dropped in another quarter.
     "Well there it goes, all I have," he smiled. Three shamrocks lined up across
the front of the machine. Eight quarters fell into the tray, making a
satisfying metallic clang.
     "You just have to quit while you're ahead." Mulder gathered his winnings and
shoved them in his pocket. Scully smiled.
     Mulder recognized Al Fred from the Polaroids he had taken of his bitten arm
for the police. He was an older man, thin and tall, standing behind an empty
blackjack table. Mulder reached for his badge as they approached.
     "I'm Special Agent Mulder and this is Special Agent Scully, we're with the
FBI We'd like to ask you a couple questions."
     "About what?"
     "About the man who reportedly bit you." Scully replied.
     "That wasn't no man, that was a leprechaun. The same leprechaun who killed
that magician."
     "Do you have any idea why he bit you?" Mulder asked. 
     "It was about some gold. He had some rhyme... I don't remember how it went.
He kind of followed me around for a little while before he asked me about his
gold and when I said I didn't have it, the little bastard bit me."
     "Do you know who might have actually had the gold?" 
     "Well, actually, last week sometime, I had some lady come around here with a
gold coin she found. She swore it gave her good luck, and I'll be damned if
she didn't win at least five grand." Mulder's expression changed to a kind of
excitement as he felt the case beginning to unfold.
     "Do you remember her name?"
     "Hmmm. It started with "T". Terry? no, Tammy. it was Tammy. I don't think I
caught her last name, though. She was staying at the Shamrock."
     "Mr. Fred," Scully asked, "would you mind if I took a look at your arm?"
     "Not at all." Al said, pulling up the bandage. Scully grimaced at the ugly
wound. It was an obvious bite-mark, swollen with an almost greenish liquid
oozing around it. 
     "I suggest you go to your doctor, that's a pretty bad infection." Scully
said. Al nodded.
     "Funny thing is," he said, "it doesn't really hurt. And get this, I know it
sounds crazy, but ever since that little freak bit me, I've been craving
potatoes."

     The silent, dark building looked dead. There was a certain feel to the
place, and it wasn't good. 
     "The police have already searched the casino and Fazio's stage, but I
thought we might take a look around just in case they didn't know what to
look for." Mulder explained as he led Scully around back. 
     "And what would they have missed?"
     "Whatever really is at the end of the rainbow."
     They entered through the back stage entrance, the one the murderer had to
have entered and exited through without being noticed by the casino patrons.
Mulder fished the keys to the condemned building out of his pants pocket. He
had picked them up earlier from the Vegas police. As he was trying different
keys, he noticed a faded, torn poster taped to the wall.
     "Topless girls of Glitter Gulch?" Scully asked. Mulder replied with a slight
smile.
     "I hear they're more entertaining than Sigfried and Roy." he said, pulling
the heavy door open. Scully followed him into the dark, poorly decorated
hallway, and into the third door on the left, Fazio's dressing room. Mulder
flipped on the light. From ceiling to floor, Fazio's dressing room was filled
with various magical items. Mulder eagerly dove in, immediately sifting
through a box of trick cards and top hats. Scully looked around Fazio's
closet. It was filled with elaborate costumes. On the floor lay a sparkling
blue cape and a pair of white gloves. From under one glove, something shiny
caught her eye. As she got closer, she realized it was a large gold coin,
unlike any she'd seen before. Without hesitation, she bent over and retrieved
it. The coin was heavy, polished and new, decorated with writing alien to
her. As if it were a mere penny, she put the coin away in her pocket and
forgot it. She found that the past few minutes escaped her. It must be the
heat, she reasoned, and continued looking, not the slightest bit aware of the
magic coin.

5:44 p.m.
     The Lucky Shamrock search turned up nothing. Mulder flipped the keys to the
Taurus to Scully. They ate at Denny's and then headed to their hotel, the
Excalibur. An Elvis impersonator convention was in town, and so two rooms at
the medieval hotel and casino were the only ones left. The Excalibur was a
large white castle with colorful towers, decorated inside with medieval items
such as swords and dragons. Scully found the place a little tacky, but fun,
and Mulder didn't seem to mind. Just outside the doors, they discussed plans
for the rest of the night. They could not get an interview of any witnesses
until the following day, so they had the night free. 
     "I'm going back downtown to see if I can find any of the Lucky Shamrock's
former patrons," said Mulder, "Would you like to come?"
     "No thanks," said Scully, "I'm going back to my room to work on the report."
     "Are you sure, Scully? As long as we're here, we should take advantage."
     "You go ahead, have fun," Scully said, "but not too much." Mulder nod,
Scully gave him the keys to the rental car and watched him walk away. her
hand fell down to her side, to her hip pocket where the coin lay. She didn't
notice it's heaviness or it's unnatural coldness. She headed inside. The
clamor and lights of the casino made her uneasy. Scully headed for her room,
walking briskly through the rows of slot machines. At the end of the last row
sat a machine similar to the one Mulder had won two dollars at earlier.
Scully looked at it and suddenly felt like putting a quarter in. She sat down
and fished a shiny quarter out of her right pocket, the one without the gold
coin. She slipped the quarter into the slot and pulled the handle down.

The wheels spun. One rainbow, two rainbows, three rainbows. On the first
pull. 

The machine came to life, a siren, and multicolored flashing lights alerted
the whole casino to the fact that Scully had just won herself 1500 dollars.
She sat in awe, staring at the three rainbows. She felt as if she were
trapped under a thick fog and she could no longer trust any of her senses. A
casino attendant came and congratulated her, shut off the chaotic yell of the
slot machine, and gave her fifteen one-hundred-dollar chips. Through the fog,
people congratulated her, and she responded with nods and a fake smile.
Unwittingly, she reached to her pocket for another quarter. The fog lifted. A
shudder ripped down Scully's back and she stood, battling dizziness for a few
seconds. Suddenly, her senses came back to her and she felt extremely out of
place. She counted the chips in her hand. Fifteen hundred dollars. Now she
didn't even remember winning it, but she *knew* it had happened. She sat back
down and went over the past few minutes in her mind. In great detail, she
remembered watching Mulder leave, then turning toward the casino, entering,
walking down the isles of slots. She remembered seeing the end of the casino
near, she was almost past it all and then, the next thing she knew, she held
fifteen hundred dollars in her hand. *Why can't I remember? I know it
happened,* thought Scully.  Maybe it was the dry desert heat. Whatever it
was, Scully needed to get to her room, take a shower, and relax. She wasted
no time getting over to the cashier and trading her chips for a $1200
cashier's check and $300 in cash. As she hurried to her room, she just
couldn't shake the feeling of lost time. It was the same feeling of
powerlessness she had when she discovered the implant in her neck. She
couldn't think about it. Even thinking about what had happened in her past
was too close to accepting the impossible. She told herself she could handle
it, and to just forget about it. As soon as she was able to relax, she was
sure she would remember winning the money. Scully entered her room, turned on
the lights and shut and locked the door. It seemed very large and hollow, so
to chase away the silence, she turned on the TV. The first show she tried was
"Lois and Clark: The new Adventures of Superman," but she found it to be weak
in plot, and the Lois character was quite annoying. Although the lead actor
was, in her opinion, quite attractive, one thing outweighed the other and
Scully found a football game to watch instead. 
     Scully, momentarily engrossed in the football game, forgot her concerns. An
hour passed before she remembered she had been about to take a shower. As she
stood, there was a knock at the door. She wondered what Mulder had learned
downtown, and hoped it wasn't anything to do with little killer Irish
fairies. Scully opened the door, and gasped. At the door stood a certain
little killer Irish fairy. He pushed his way in. Scully drew her gun.
     "Don't move," she ordered. 
     "Pardon me," the creature hissed. His face was twisted and wrinkled, with
green eyes that seemed to almost glow with a cold, inner light. "Have you
seen me gold?" 
     "Put your hands above your head," Scully began, ready to arrest their
suspect. The case had gone from hopeless to solved. Scully kept her gun aimed
at the sick, short man. When she looked, she had no gun, but a limp, dead
snake in her hands. She dropped it to the floor, and the leprechaun advanced.
     "Now," he growled, "where's me gold?" Scully backed away.
     "I don't know what you're talking about."
     "I smell me gold. It's here," the green-clad man yelled. The door was open
behind him. Scully didn't know whether to make a run for it or not. She
couldn't even be sure she wasn't trapped in some strange dream.
     "Why did you kill Don Stevens?" Scully asked. 
     "He had me gold, now it's here, and I want it back, me little dear." The
leprechaun reached out  for Scully's gun which was no longer a snake. She
froze, unsure of what her next move should be. The door was still open, maybe
someone would come by and see what was going on. Her luck was just
incredible.
     "Well if it isn't Rumplestiltskin." Mulder said. He stood in the doorway
with his weapon ready. The leprechaun whirled around. He smiled, revealing
two rows of razor-sharp, yellow teeth.
     "There were two FBI agents from DC
     Who took me gold coin from me
     To get ye off my back
     And keep you off track
     I'll cast a spell of love on thee," the little man crowed. Scully wasn't
buying it. She went for her gun. The little man clapped, and she fell to the
floor. The leprechaun's evil magic covered her in a fog of confusion. A warm,
pleasant feeling came over her. She looked at Mulder and sighed. Like a tidal
wave, a powerful, pulsating current of love washed over the both of them,
knocking reason away. Mulder holstered his gun and walked over to Scully,
slowly. The passion that engulfed him was indescribable. He helped her to her
feet and wrapped his arms around her. She looked into his sad eyes and saw
something new and very powerful. He leaned closer, his hot breath brushing
against her flushed cheek. Emotion tightened around them, binding them
together, and they fell into a kiss. The leprechaun watched and cackled with
pleasure. Hardly any of his magic powers had to be wasted; they only had to
build on feelings that already existed. At once, he began tearing through the
contents of the small room, searching for his coin, ignoring the couple as
they sauntered out the door.

End part one


From JBeanfest@aol.com Thu Sep 19 22:18:38 1996
Return-Path: owner-x-files-fanfic@chaos.taylored.com
Received: from chaos.taylored.com (chaos.taylored.com [206.53.224.58]) by sh1.ro.com
(8.7.6/8.6.9) with SMTP id WAA05100 for <kelsy@ro.com>; Thu, 19 Sep 1996 22:33:45 -0500
Received: (qmail-queue invoked by alias); 20 Sep 1996 03:19:27 -0000
Delivered-To: x-files-fanfic-outgoing@chaos.taylored.com
Received: (qmail-queue invoked by alias); 20 Sep 1996 03:19:26 -0000
Delivered-To: xff-outgoing@chaos.taylored.com
Received: (qmail-queue invoked by uid 1003); 20 Sep 1996 03:19:22 -0000
Received: (qmail-queue invoked from smtpd); 20 Sep 1996 03:19:10 -0000
Received: from emout17.mx.aol.com (HELO emout17.mail.aol.com) (198.81.11.43)
  by chaos.taylored.com with SMTP; 20 Sep 1996 03:19:09 -0000
Received: by emout17.mail.aol.com (8.6.12/8.6.12) id XAA04071 for
x-files-fanfic@chaos.taylored.com; Thu, 19 Sep 1996 23:18:38 -0400
Date: Thu, 19 Sep 1996 23:18:38 -0400
From: JBeanfest@aol.com
Message-ID: <960919231836_106246030@emout17.mail.aol.com>
To: x-files-fanfic@chaos.taylored.com
Subject: "Three Wishes" 2/2 MSR, R rated
Sender: owner-x-files-fanfic@chaos.taylored.com
Precedence: bulk
X-UIDL: 02b408387e588c82543d465bc639bd5f

     Alongside the busy cars and flashy lights, in the crowd, but alone in
eachother's eyes, Dana and Fox ran down the sidewalk. Their hands locked
together, they dodged the evening pedestrian traffic. After about three
blocks, Mulder stopped and turned to Scully.
     "Dana," he panted, out of breath from the run and the lengthy hotel kiss.
     "Mulder, I've never felt like this before." 
     "I know," he whispered. The leprechaun's spell had left them both oblivious
to anything but eachother. Although this was strong and undeniable, reason
and their true feelings tried to poke through, like the sun behind a patch of
stubborn clouds. This barrage of conflicting emotions left them both confused
at their own actions, but happy as well. The result was a mixture of truth
and intoxicated hallucination that flowed out in word and deed. "I feel,
Scully," Mulder said quietly, close to her, "we are perfect partners. I have
never had as much trust, respect and admiration for anyone as I have for you.
I love you." She was about to return his sentiments with ones quite similar,
but before she could, he turned her to face the building he'd stopped in
front of. The large, flowery sign explained:

     TRUE LOVE WEDDING CHAPEL
     Share Your Special Day With Us! 
     Make Your Wedding Day Unforgettable
     Be Serenaded Down The Aisle By Elvis ($19.95 extra)

     Scully stood back and stared speechlessly at the sign. Her dreams seemed to
be coming true right in front of her, and she let Mulder lead her into the
small chapel.
     "Can I help you?" A man dressed in a spiffy black tux asked as they
approached the reception desk. "Do you have an appointment?"
     "No, but we'd like one as soon as possible," Scully said.
     "Our next open time is at midnight tonight-"
     "But we have to get married *now*." Mulder insisted, shocked by his own
urgency. 
     "I'm sorry, but we appear to be booked solid for the time being. I'm not
sure to what extent I can juggle the schedule around here. . ." Without
hesitation, Scully whipped out her three-hundred-dollars in cash and slapped
it on top of the man's appointment book.
     "Oh, I'm sure you can figure something out," she suggested, raising one
eyebrow quite suggestively. Mulder shivered with excitement. 
     "I see," the man said, grinning, "You said *now*. I thought you said
something else. How silly of me. Fill this out, please," the man handed them
a marriage license application, and they filled it out together. "Come right
this way, folks." Mulder and Scully were led through a shop with everything
from flowers, to tuxes, to the ring. "If you see anything you want, just
holler," the chapel employee said as he led them along. Scully looked over
all that was there and knew she needed noting. Mulder was all she wanted.
Something did catch her eye, however. The last tux on display before they hit
the actual chapel was a God-awful cream-colored thing with a kind of floral
design stamped into the material. Scully just had to stick her tongue out at
it; it looked as if it were made from someone's old couch or curtains, yet
strangely, she could see Mulder wearing it.

     The chapel itself was decorated with very fake flowers and giant wacky paper
bells. That didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the feelings that the
spell had created. 

It turned out the receptionist was also a judge.
     "You folks ready? I assume you have the ring?"
     "Ring? It slipped my mind," said Mulder. That just wasn't important.
     "We don't need one," Scully reassured him, as they stood before the altar
side by side. She moved closer and placed her hand lovingly on his firm
buttocks. 
     "Shall we begin then? Good. Do you," the man pointed at Mulder while
flashing his wide, pearly TV-evangelist style grin.
     "Mulder,"
     "Do you, Mulder take--"
     "Dana"
     "Do you, Mulder take Dana to be your wife to have and to hold. . . yadda
yadda yadda, so help you God?"  
     "I do," Mulder purred, never for a second taking his eyes off Scully.
     "And do you, Dana, take Mulder to be your husband?"
     "I do," she answered softly, hardly listening to the question. She was too
busy squeezing Mulder's ass. 
     "By the powers granted to me you're now stuck with eachother. Here's a
coupon for five dollars worth of chips at Caesar's Palace. You may now kiss,
but hurry up, this chapel's reserved for six." Curtly, the man turned around
and scurried back the way they'd come.
     Mulder nor Scully saw the man leave. Their energies were all focused one
thing. Feelings more intense than any of the videos Mulder'd ever seen pulled
them together so hard, they nearly melted into one. Scully was sure they
would have ended up on the floor if the next couple hadn't stood behind them,
very blatantly clearing their throats. 
     "Sorry," Mulder said with great difficulty. Lately breath seemed to be a
very elusive thing. He turned back to Scully and panted, "let's consummate
this thing."

Scully thought she was going to explode. Mulder wasn't sure he hadn't
already.

     Scully reached back into her pocket nervously. Her fingers played upon a
cold round object.
I do?" Scully asked, the spell broken. Mulder looked around, confused.
     "Are you going to keep the name Scully, or are we now Mrs. and Mr. Mulder?"
He asked playfully. 
     "Mulder, look at this," Scully opened her hand, revealing the shiny, round
gold coin. "I have no idea where I got this." Mulder took the coin from her
fingers and examined it carefully. He handed it back to her. For a moment, he
stood staring straight ahead at something that wasn't there. Scully couldn't
tell if he was recovering from the hazy feelings left by the spell, or
actually thinking about something.
     "He must still be in the hotel room." Mulder said and took off, running back
down the aisle. At a loss for words or rational thoughts, Scully followed.

     On the sidewalk just outside the Excalibur, Mulder came to a sudden halt. He
looked around frantically, searching for a patch of grass among the topiary.
     "Mulder," Scully asked as she caught up to her partner, "What are you
doing?"
     "Scully, do you see any grass?" he asked, circling a large bush carved into
the shape of a colossal dragon.
     "Grass?"
     "Clover, really," Scully laughed, but he didn't hear. He was too busy
climbing into the decorative sculptures.
     "Mulder, we have no time for this." Now this was getting strange, even for
Mulder. First, she lost control of her mind enough to-- wait, she thought.
What exactly just happened? An uncomfortable feeling washed over her,
tightening in her throat. She had kissed him. . . and actually enjoyed it.
That was hard to acknowledge. Her relationship with Mulder had been purely
platonic. She had never had stronger feelings for a man in her life, but
those feelings had remained in friendship and nothing else. She wanted it to
stay that way. Like so many other things hard for her to think about, she
pushed what had happened to the back of her mind, replacing them with focus
on the case at hand. Now, she looked to Mulder, who had apparently lost his
mind. 
     "Scully," Mulder called from beside the dragon. He sat on his hands and
knees, sifting through a sparse patch of green. 
     "What are you doing?"
     "We need a four-leafed clover,"
     "Mulder, the odds of finding one in the little time we don't even have are
overwhelming," She looked down to the thin patch of green, "I don't even see
any clover."
     "I'm not sure if clover even grows out here in the desert. You're the
science expert, Scully, what do you say?"
     "Mulder, I don't know. I do know that our perpetrator's gonna be on the next
plane to Ireland before we get to him if you don't come with me *now.*"
     "We *need* a four-leafed clover. It's the *only* way to kill a leprechaun."
     "Are you sure it's the only way? Maybe it will be as effective if we get
some silver bullets or something. . ." Mulder paused in his search and looked
up at her, grinning widely. 
     "I found one," He stood and swiped absently at the dirt covering his pants.
He held out the fragile green plant triumphantly. 
     "What do you plan to do with that?"
     "All I have to do is touch it to his skin, and he'll die." Mulder began
jogging towards the hotel.
     "Mulder," Scully called, struggling to keep up with her partner's lope. *Men
just don't realize how damn hard it is to run in heels,* she thought
bitterly, as he slowed down to a walk, to allow her to catch up. "Wait a
minute here. First of all, we don't have any proof that our perp is even an
authentic leprechaun. And if he is- if what you're saying is right- we have
no right to just kill him. Even leprechauns are entitled to a fair trial. .
." she let her voice trail off, overwhelmed by how ridiculous she sounded.
     "Scully- I mean- Mrs. Mulder, just trust me on this one. You can't jail a
leprechaun. You've already seen what his magic can do," 
     "And what if he decides to cast another "spell" on us?"
     "We won't give him enough time. Just don't lose the coin- as long as you're
holding the coin, he can't hurt you."

     Mulder drew his gun for dramatics, if nothing else, and held the clover
hidden between the cold metal and his palm. He crept along the wall, towards
Scully's room. The door was still open, and he could hear glass breaking.
Good, he was still searching. Mulder quietly stepped into the room to find
the little Irish fairy rummaging through Scully's suitcase, tossing clothes
all around. Mulder turned his head for a second, to find Scully next to him,
her face a mask of disgust as she watched the leprechaun ravage her
belongings. Mulder turned back and stepped forward, opened his mouth to tell
the little man to stop, when an airborne bra landed on his head. A little cry
of  surprise escaped his lips, and the leprechaun wheeled around. 
     "Aah, 'tis me friends," the green-clad monster crowed, walking up to the
quite embarrassed Mulder. Scully whipped the bra off his head before he could
do anything about it. 
     "Stop, FBI. Put your hands up. . ." Mulder ordered. The little fairy just
smiled. 
     "Look at yer shoes. They're all dirty, let me shine them up, I'm a
shoemaker, ye know," he said, puling a cloth from his coat pocket. Mulder
looked down at the little green man and shifted his hand on the gun, feeling
for the clover. A little closer, and it would all be over. The leprechaun
stopped dead in his path to shine Mulder's shoes and looked up. "I want me
gold!" He growled, sending his fist into Mulder's groin. Scully gasped as
Mulder's inhuman screech filled the room. He slowly fell to the floor,
consumed by pain. The little leprechaun laughed wickedly and kicked him in
the head.
     "You little bastard," Scully growled, falling to the floor at Mulder's side.
She put one hand on her partner's back, but could not do anything for him;
the leprechaun was coming towards her.
     "I'm sorry I had to hurt your friend,
     But you seem not to quite understand
     Even though you've been told
     That I want me gold
     You continue to hold it there, in your hand," he hissed, walking up until he
was only slight inches away. He had noticed the coin as she fell to Mulder's
groaning side. The leprechaun looked her in the eye, and she shuddered. His
breath was really bad.
     "Alright, I'll give you your gold," she said, voice shaking.
     "No-" grunted Mulder.
     "Yes," the leprechaun sneered.
     "Here!" Scully yelled, jamming her hand forward, into the leprechaun's face.
She opened her fingers, and the four-leafed clover found the little Irish
man's nose. He screamed, and stepped backwards. Scully sighed. She was glad
Mulder was able to slip her the clover without the little bastard noticing.
     "Melting! I'm  melting," he gasped, as indeed he was. His features first
became muddied, and wet-looking, and soon started to drip away. Scully didn't
watch, she didn't care if Mr. Lucky Charms was turning into a puddle right
there in her hotel room, she had to make sure Mulder and his manhood were
going to live.

Epilogue: 
October 22, 11:48 P.M.

     Scully looked over at him, sitting at the machine next to hers, staring
intently at it. He wasn't playing, just staring, and she was afraid the
leprechaun had hurt him worse than he'd admitted. 
     "Are you okay, Mulder?"
     "What? Yeah, I was just thinking," he turned to her.
     "Mulder, don't worry, the paramedics said you'd be as good as new in no
time,"
     "Not that," Mulder grinned.
     "I'm *not* staying your wife,"
     "Not that either, although it might be an idea." Scully shook her head. 
     "Mulder. . ."
     "We forgot to use our three wishes." Mulder shrugged and turned back to the
slot machine and threw in a quarter. He lost. Again.

The End. 
The preceding is dedicated to Lindsay and Michele (who wouldn't really go
skinny-dipping with Jeff- well she probably wouldn't) E-mail me, now. I know
you have an opinion, so let's hear it. Come on, it'll only take a minute. . .
JBeanfest@aol.com

From JBeanfest@aol.com Thu Sep 19 22:19:00 1996
Return-Path: owner-x-files-fanfic@chaos.taylored.com
Received: from chaos.taylored.com (chaos.taylored.com [206.53.224.58]) by sh1.ro.com
(8.7.6/8.6.9) with SMTP id WAA09650 for <kelsy@ro.com>; Thu, 19 Sep 1996 22:47:51 -0500
Received: (qmail-queue invoked by alias); 20 Sep 1996 03:19:45 -0000
Delivered-To: x-files-fanfic-outgoing@chaos.taylored.com
Received: (qmail-queue invoked by alias); 20 Sep 1996 03:19:45 -0000
Delivered-To: xff-outgoing@chaos.taylored.com
Received: (qmail-queue invoked by uid 1003); 20 Sep 1996 03:19:37 -0000
Received: (qmail-queue invoked from smtpd); 20 Sep 1996 03:19:31 -0000
Received: from emout04.mx.aol.com (HELO emout04.mail.aol.com) (198.81.11.95)
  by chaos.taylored.com with SMTP; 20 Sep 1996 03:19:30 -0000
Received: by emout04.mail.aol.com (8.6.12/8.6.12) id XAA00349 for
x-files-fanfic@chaos.taylored.com; Thu, 19 Sep 1996 23:19:00 -0400
Date: Thu, 19 Sep 1996 23:19:00 -0400
From: JBeanfest@aol.com
Message-ID: <960919231859_106246301@emout04.mail.aol.com>
To: x-files-fanfic@chaos.taylored.com
Subject: 3 Wishes 2: "Little Green Women" (1/2) R rated
Sender: owner-x-files-fanfic@chaos.taylored.com
Precedence: bulk
X-UIDL: 985e583f7c336c9ccf6386fed68b9bf8

"Little Green Women" a sequel to "Three Wishes" by JBeanfest started a long
time ago, finished 3/26/96

I want your *honest* opinion. And by honest, I mean no ass-kissing comments
to build my self-esteem, I mean the bottom-line truth. Same goes for all my
stories. So, read this, if you dare, then e-mail me. I need your opinion.
Don't be afraid of hurting my feelings. Hey--you don't even have to be
polite. I welcome flames. But if you want to say something nice, I would be
more than happy to hear that too.

Rated "R" for naughty words, icky things, and a little very mild hanky-panky.
Also rated a big "C" for cheesiness. Don't say I didn't warn you. This is
dedicated to the nice people who sent feedback on "Three Wishes." After its
debut on EMXC.

Of course, The X-Files and all related aspects belong to Fox, Ten-Thirteen,
and my hero Chris Carter. Disney World and all the happiest stuff on Earth
belong to Disney. Now, Disney especially, please don't sue me. I am using all
of this with the utmost respect, but without permission, and I apologize. No
copyright infringement intended. 

 "Little Green Women" (a sequel to "Three Wishes")
*by JBeanfest@aol.com*

J.  Edgar Hoover Building
April 7, 6:51 am

     The hollow echo of Mulder's feet against the floor was the only thing that
occupied the basement hallway. It was early. He had come to review their new
case so when Scully arrived, he'd be ready to debrief her. He liked to be
ever-ready so they could dive right into the case. Mulder stopped in front of
the door that led to what used to be the copy room and reached for his keys.
Their jangle in the lock reverberated from the empty wall behind him.
Stifling a yawn, he pushed the door open and let it swing into the darkness.
Mulder stepped in. Under his foot, he felt something break accompanied by a
heavy <crunch.> He winced. He was not in the mood to see a cockroach. The FBI
wouldn't be too happy about it either. The only vermin they allowed into the
building was Cancerman and his goons, even if they were more disease-ridden
than rats. Mulder looked down to see what he'd crushed, but couldn't quite
make it out  in the dark. He stepped over to the wall, careful not to step
again on whatever happened to be on the floor. After finding the lightswitch,
he turned around and froze. His first reaction to the scene revealed to him
by the light was awe. He tried to take it all in slowly, telling himself to
stay calm, and that maybe he shouldn't have been shocked. The office was
completely torn apart. Mulder could hardly see floor beneath the ocean of
loose paper. Damn it! He didn't know what to do with himself as he felt the
anger start to fester inside him, growing hotter like a volcano getting ready
to erupt. This was his work, all of it, tossed around and stepped on as if it
didn't mean a thing. He wanted to hit something, but nothing seemed handy.
So, he looked to the floor, where everything was anyway. He kicked at an
empty file folder. He unloaded on it. sent it hurling through the air, and
onto the empty top of his desk. Fuck *Them.* What was there to look for? He
didn't remember finding any good incriminating evidence for a while now.
Surely They knew he no longer possessed the digital tape. Mulder had to work
hard not to just lose it. Surely it would take days to get everything back in
order. Days he didn't have. The papers and files spilled and mocking him from
the floor were not the only thing amiss. Across his wall, over his pictures,
a message violated the office. "Look out for little green men, Spooky," it
read, spelled out in green paint. If this was a joke it sure as hell was not
funny. At least it was only an attack on him. He didn't know how many he'd
have to kill if they had taken a shot at Scully. It occurred to him then that
this little joke had to be taken care of before she arrived. She didn't need
to see this. Muttering unpleasant words under his breath, Mulder took the
pictures from the wall that were painted.

     "Mulder, what have you done?" Scully stood wide-eyed and frowning in the
doorway, hands on her hips. Not half of the mess had been picked off the
floor by the time she arrived. At least the green message was removed from
the wall. Mulder looked up to his partner.
     "Oh, hi Scully. I was just rearranging the office," he said before looking
back down to his work. He immediately recognized the file he held in his
hands. The Fazio case, Mulder's first encounter with a leprechaun. He smiled
at the file, remembering what a hassle it had been getting the marriage
annulled and everything, not to mention all the crap thrown at Scully and him
from all directions, especially from Skinner. But that was all past, and now
there were other things to think about.
     "Your interior decorating skills amaze me," Scully quipped, bending down to
assist him. She sighed heavily. She didn't even want to know. 

     They worked without much conversation for hours. Time went by extremely
slowly, and Mulder wondered if he wasn't in hell. He realized, though, that
if he were in hell, Scully would have the body of Frohike and she'd smell
like dead fish. 
     Their work was interrupted by a quick rap on the door. Scully, closer to the
door, answered it.
     The young agent in the doorway looked into the office with wide-eyed
amazement. Scully tried to move over to block his sight, but the kid was tall
enough to see over her head.
     "Yes?" She asked, breaking the agent's daze.
     "Um, Assistant Director Skinner would like to see both you and Agent Mulder
right away," he said distractedly. Scully bid the young man farewell before
shutting the door into his still-astonished stare. 
     "Well, Mulder," Scully said, very unexcited at the prospect of dealing with
Skinner about absolutely anything, "lets go."

Office of A.D. Skinner
10:12 a.m.
     
     Skinner was standing, pacing really, when the two agents walked into his
office. He asked them to take a seat, and they complied. The Assistant
Director stepped behind his desk, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
     "You remember Agent Tom Colton," he said. Mulder tensed with the thought of
having to work with that jackass again. Neither he nor Scully was happy at
hearing that name. "He's been murdered." Skinner finished.  
     The agents exchanged a quick glance. Neither knew exactly what to think.
Were they suspects? Why did Skinner call on them? They tensely waited for
Skinner to continue.
     "You are to join the investigation. There is already a team in Florida, and
you are to work parallel to them. You will be leaving for Orlando in two
hours. Here's what we have so far. That will be all." Skinner slid a folder
across the desk in Mulder's direction. The agents exchanged another
astonished look as they left Skinner's office. Colton? Dead? Was this an
X-File? They would soon find out.

Disney World, Orlando Florida
April 7, 3:19 p.m.

     Mulder had never been to Disney World before. After Samantha disappeared,
he'd never really felt the need to go. But here he was, now, standing next to
the Dumbo ride, the flying elephants idle and deserted, decorated with yellow
crime tape. And covered in blood.
     The pictures of the crime scene that had been in Skinner's folder were quite
graphic. Scully had a very hard time looking at them on the plane ride. They
showed, in stark black-and-white realism, a very naked Tom Colton, castrated
and hung by his necktie from one of the flying Dumbos' trunks, his eyes
bulging out of his head, the terror-soaked expression frozen on his fat
little face. In all truth, Scully had never wanted to see her former
colleague, and yes, friend, like this, and it had been tough to glance over
the photos and not remember that this victim was a person, and not just a
lifeless corpse.
     The limply-hung form of Tom Colton was far gone from the children's ride
when Mulder and Scully arrived. The crime scene was, however, still crawling
with local police and federal agents. The case was already pretty
high-profile. Tourists, at least most of them, do not appreciate the
spectacle of a dead, neutered man decorating one of the kiddy rides.
     Mulder turned his attention to the base of the ride under where Colton's
figure had hung. There, spelled in blood, was this limerick.

     One wish, two wishes, and wish number three
     Someone had the coin and it was he
     I had him tricked-- 
     I cut off his dick
     Because no one fucks around with me.

     Mulder winced. He remembered the first leprechaun, the coin, the cute little
rhymes. That leprechaun wasn't nearly so violent and vulgar, however.
Whatever Colton had done, he really succeeded in pissing this little green
guy off. 
     "Hey, Scully, look at this," he called. As Scully walked over it occurred to
Mulder what must have happened. Colton must have been the one who ransacked
the office. While he was doing that, he came across the coin, and well, the
rest. . .  was history. 
     "Mulder," Scully said, after reading the bloody note. He knew she was
thinking the same thing he was, but that she would deny that their little
green friend was back.
     "Scully, I think it's obvious. The leprechaun is back."
     "Back from where, Mulder? The so-called "leprechaun" is dead." She started
to walk away from the scene, he followed, a little worried. Skinner should
have spared her this. He knew she had known Colton on a fairly personal
basis.
     "There could be more than one," he said, stopping her with a hand on her
shoulder. She turned around and sighed.
     "Mulder, there is still no evidence that who we encountered back in Las
Vegas was a leprechaun," she put up a hand to keep him from protesting, "for
all we could tell, it was just a man with a height problem and a severe
allergic reaction to clover,"
     "Listen to yourself, that explanation sounds even less plausible than the
notion that it was a leprechaun. And, *Mrs. Mulder,* how would you explain
the spell he put on us?"
     Scully sighed. She *hated* when he called her "Mrs. Mulder." 
     "This is not a leprechaun," she started walking away again. Mulder let her
go. He realized how difficult it was for Scully to be here at the scene of
Colton's untimely death. And even if she was fine and dandy, Mulder could
never prove his leprechaun theory. Because whether it was the leprechaun
they'd encountered in Vegas or another leprechaun, he was long gone. He had
the coin back; there was no reason to stick around. 

The Holiday Inn (with the really annoying raccoon in the lobby)
April 7, 11:11 p.m.

     Mulder stood on the balcony and observed the pool below. Although this was a
family hotel, the late hour had driven all the little kids inside and to bed.
The only ones remaining in the pool were an elderly couple, and one very
shapely, very blonde, very beautiful woman wearing a very red, very string
bikini.  Mulder could not help but wonder how nice his red Speedos would look
next to that. Lucky he brought them with, and what a coincidence that he
needed a workout, now at this late hour. He ducked back inside his hotel
room, grinning. But once inside, he grew a little hesitant. Ever since Bambi,
and then that little mistake with Agent White, he'd been just a little
reluctant to pursue relationships around Scully. You would think they were
still married by the way she got all exited and protective over him. Mulder
stood, Speedos in hand, chewing his lip. He did not want to upset Scully
further, but then again, his videos just were not enough. Well, if Scully
found him, he could always plead innocence. Mulder kicked off his shoes.

     The shadows were thick in the bushes surrounding the pool fence. The light
from the pool area did not reach far into the depths of the night. "Lucky for
me," whispered the short woman, whose green dress and jacket blended with the
fronds surrounding her. There were a lot of hiding places here: bushes,
hallways and buildings, all with spaces hidden in darkness that one of the
little people could fit into with ease. This place among the plants was the
best, however, because from here, she could see Mulder on his balcony, and
never would he suspect she was watching. 
     She had come to Florida with a man called Colton, thinking the fat little
moron was the one who had killed her fiancee and stolen one of his very
precious golden coins. It was not until Colton was hanging from the trunk of
Dumbo that she learned the truth. It's amazing how much people will tell you
when you have a Ginsu pressed against their little balls. It's also amazing
how a  whole herd of Brazilian tourists can pass you by, and not even notice
that you are magically hanging a person with his necktie. Aah, but there
really was no time now to dwell upon the past. Mulder was the one, Colton had
said, that brought the coin from Vegas to DC. He was the one responsible for
the death of her man. Well, well, well. Mulder would have to pay. He would be
much easier to get than Colton, too. Instead of sniffing out the coin and
going to Colton, she  had the pleasure of having Mulder come right to her.  
     He stood on the balcony, practically panting over the young woman doing laps
in that cinnamon-flavored dental floss she considered a bathing suit. Well,
the female leprechaun could practically read his thoughts. *Men, they all
want the same thing, be they human or leprechaun,* she thought. When he
turned inside, grinning like a tiger with a bunny under it's paws, her hopes
were confirmed. All she had to do was get rid of those losers in the pool
before that dog Mulder got downstairs, and he'd be hers.
     "Ahem," she cleared her throat, happy that the spell did indeed make it seem
like her voice was coming from a PA system, "the pool is now closed. Please
come to the poolside bar for free drinks. Have a nice evening."
     It was all she could do to stop herself from dancing a jig when the three
swimmers picked up and left, wrapping themselves in towels. All three headed
for the bar, which wasn't really poolside, but just outside the fence. Lucky
for her that the three of them were lushes as well as idiots. *That's humans
for you,* she thought. But now came the tough part. She closed her eyes and
sat down on the woodchips beneath the plants. With all her might, the
leprechaun called her magical powers to her. The thin tang of the air on her
skin was replaced by a warm, powerful glow for a moment. When it was done,
she stood, now six feet tall, human, and sexier than that bimbo who'd left
would ever be. She stepped into the light, shaking loose leaves from her
hair. The only problem with the spell was that her hair refused to change to
blond. Instead, it kept it's natural leprechaun redness. *All the better,*
she then thought, remembering seeing Mulder earlier with his redheaded
partner, remembering how he'd looked at her. *It just gets easier and
easier.* She slipped into the pool. The water was very cold. She scowled.
 Maybe Mulder wouldn't want to swim, now. No. . . A smile budded and
blossomed on the leprechaun's face. Now she would have a very legitimate
excuse to lure that human bastard into the hot tub. It was more secluded than
the pool, therefore, it would be much easier to kill him quietly there. What
a good day! Wow! 
     She started swimming around slowly, waiting. After a few minutes, she heard
a door up above the pool open and close. She glanced up and saw Mulder
walking towards the elevators, body glistening in the artificial light. He
was a pretty good looking human. Too bad she wasn't really one of "those
kind" of leprechauns. Some of her kind could lust after, and even fall in
love with men and women. Not her. They were so big and clumsy, and they had
no minds for limericks, and absolutely no skill with magic. She preferred
killing them to having sexual relations with them. But if doing both
increased their suffering, she wouldn't hesitate.
     He pretended not to notice her right away; didn't want to seem overly
anxious. Instead, he stood on the concrete around the pool for a minute and
looked around, set down his towel. The leprechaun was surprised he didn't
start flexing and showing off, as if those Speedos made him into God's gift
to women. He finally eased himself into the pool, the water welcoming him
with barely a ripple. She did have to admit, he was graceful as he slipped
easily into the cool water. Right away, he started a lap. She wondered if he
planned to "accidentally" bump into her. She didn't put it past him; humans
often did stuff like that. Well, she decided to make it easy for him, whether
that was his plan or not. Purposefully, she swam right into his path.
     Mulder came up with a gasp. His hair and eyebrows were darkened with the
water glistening off them. Now, close to him, the leprechaun examined his
face. He was better looking than she had thought. Somehow, that made the
prospect of killing him all the more exciting.

     The woman was suddenly in his path, and Mulder couldn't stop. He tried, but
their bodies collided, the flesh on flesh instantly exciting him. He pushed
his head above water, to come face to face with the most beautiful woman he'd
ever seen. 
     "Are you all right?" Mulder asked, daring to reach out and touch the woman's
shoulder. The slick skin was soft underneath his gentle hand. The beautiful
woman looked up at him with the most amazingly emerald green eyes.
     "Yeah, how about you, handsome?"
     "Me? I'm fine,"
     "I'm sorry I ran into you. I guess I didn't see you there. What's your
name?"
     "Fox."
     "Ooh, Fox. What a," she paused to lick her lips with all the sensuality she
could find, " what a sexy name." God, she hoped she wasn't laying it on *too*
thick. He blushed. 
     "What's your name?" He asked. He sounded like a twelve year old kid calling
a chick for the first time. 
     "Lois," she purred, running her fingertips lightly across his naked chest.
"It's a little chilly here, Fox. Would you join me in the hot tub?" He looked
at her with wide, dark eyes, a devilish smile beginning to form on his wet
lips. Boy, this guy was easy to get. He was as excitable as Pee-Wee Herman in
line for the movies. She should have just went to his hotel room and knocked
on the door and asked, "Hi, can we have sex?"
     "Now that you mention it, it is a little chilly," Mulder said, grinning like
a cat. He dutifully followed his newfound friend towards the little path that
led through the foliage to the hot tub. 

     Scully didn't even want to think about sleep. She knew images of Tom Colton
would be dancing through her head all night. Colton and the leprechaun.
Nothing, so far could erase the black-and-white photos from her mind. She had
tried reading a novel, watching TV, catching up on old paperwork. She even
found herself examining the picture hung over the bed entitled "Death of a
Mauve Bat." Everywhere she turned, though, a word, such as "bastard" or
"filthy little toad" would pop up and remind her of Tom. She sighed. Maybe
going next door to Mulder's room under the pretense of discussing the case
would get her mind off the dead, dangling body of Tom Colton.

Go see part two!


From JBeanfest@aol.com Thu Sep 19 22:19:19 1996
Return-Path: owner-x-files-fanfic@chaos.taylored.com
Received: from chaos.taylored.com (chaos.taylored.com [206.53.224.58]) by sh1.ro.com
(8.7.6/8.6.9) with SMTP id XAA13870 for <kelsy@ro.com>; Thu, 19 Sep 1996 23:01:57 -0500
Received: (qmail-queue invoked by alias); 20 Sep 1996 03:20:04 -0000
Delivered-To: x-files-fanfic-outgoing@chaos.taylored.com
Received: (qmail-queue invoked by alias); 20 Sep 1996 03:20:03 -0000
Delivered-To: xff-outgoing@chaos.taylored.com
Received: (qmail-queue invoked by uid 1003); 20 Sep 1996 03:19:59 -0000
Received: (qmail-queue invoked from smtpd); 20 Sep 1996 03:19:51 -0000
Received: from emout03.mx.aol.com (HELO emout03.mail.aol.com) (198.81.11.94)
  by chaos.taylored.com with SMTP; 20 Sep 1996 03:19:51 -0000
Received: by emout03.mail.aol.com (8.6.12/8.6.12) id XAA10793 for
x-files-fanfic@chaos.taylored.com; Thu, 19 Sep 1996 23:19:19 -0400
Date: Thu, 19 Sep 1996 23:19:19 -0400
From: JBeanfest@aol.com
Message-ID: <960919231919_106246578@emout03.mail.aol.com>
To: x-files-fanfic@chaos.taylored.com
Subject: "Little Green Women" 2/2
Sender: owner-x-files-fanfic@chaos.taylored.com
Precedence: bulk
X-UIDL: bcb380151fae1b93c755a745060b8bfb

DISCLAIMERS IN PART UNO

     Scully knocked a few times and then slipped through the connecting door into
Mulder's room. It was deserted. The TV was still on, tuned to CNN. Scully
went to turn it off, and noticed Mulder's clothes in a heap on the floor.
*Well,* she thought, *maybe he went swimming.* Well, now that she was up, she
might as well go talk to him down by the pool. It was a nice, warm night and
the Florida air would be good for her. She started for the pool.

     All was silence as she quietly stepped across the concrete. The blue glowing
water of the pool sat, unrippled. Damn! Now she had to go back to her room,
alone to the waiting ghost of Colton. She was about to turn and head back,
when a spot of red on the concrete near the path to the hot tub caught her
eye. A pool of blood. . . 
     "Mulder," she called softly. Maybe the leprechaun had lured them here to get
revenge. . . Scully pulled her gun and walked slowly along the pool's edge.
Her stomach slid deeper and deeper down inside of her as she tried not to
imagine Mulder in Colton's place, naked and butchered, a message to her
written in her partner's blood. . . She approached the bloodstain slowly,
listening and looking for any signs of Mulder, or anything that might be
waiting for her in the shadows. She came to the dark red spot, and froze.
What if Mulder had been right and the leprechaun was back? What if it was now
too late?
     She bent to examine the dark red spot on the concrete. She wondered if he
had lost more than what was there in front of her. If not, there was hope,
but if so. . .
     *Wait a minute,* she thought.
     It was not blood that marred the surface of the concrete, but a water-soaked
pair of red Speedos.
     Scully, against her better judgment, continued, gun still drawn. At the end
of the path, a wave of regret came and just about knocked her over. There,
alone, and naked, in the hot tub, sat Mulder and a shapely red-headed
bimbette. They were all over eachother, necking like teenagers. He was
moaning softly, a sickening, heart-wrenching sound. Scully could do nothing
but stare. Mulder, as he reached with his tongue for the girl's ear, finally
noticed her, standing there stunned.
     "Scully!" He choked. She felt herself turning the color of, you guessed it,
his Speedos.
     "I. . . I'm sorry," she said, turning on her heel and pounding away. Oh,
shit, that was not good. She should have left before he noticed her. She
always somehow knew that she'd see Mulder naked in a social situation, but
not like this. Now she had embarrassed him when it was all to obviously none
of her business anyway. She walked away, ignoring his calls. *Stupid,
stupid!* She thought, *here I go again, spoiling his chance for at least a
glimmer of a normal life.*

     The naked, dripping Mulder struggled with his Speedos, extremely grateful no
one was around except Lois, stunned back in the hot tub, and Scully storming
away ahead of him. He had wanted to just let her go. . . but this case, with
Colton looked like it was pretty hard on her, and he worried about her. Not
only that, but this kind of thing had happened all too often lately, and
Mulder had to deal with a very hurt and pissed-off Scully for weeks
afterward. With Lois, it wouldn't even have lasted the whole night. So Mulder
weighed his options, and took off after Scully, even if he did have his
Speedos on backwards. 

     "Lois" watched all from the side of the hot tub. She stared longingly at
Mulder's firm little butt flexing as he struggled into his little swimming
suit and then his long legs working hard to catch up to Scully. They stopped
and started to talk, unfortunately, not loud enough for Lois to hear. She was
mad! One more minute, and Mulder would have been hers. Two more minutes, and
he would have been stone-cold dead. Hmmpf! Something had happened in that hot
tub, though. Lois knew she was probably vulnerable from the death of her
husband-to-be, and that left a hole in her. She though Mulder could fill that
hole. He took her man, so she might as well take him. Fair's fair. He was all
she wanted. . . he was alive, and he was a man. Who cares if he was four feet
taller than she was in her original state. She *wanted* him. And to get him,
she'd have to kill Scully, and that would prove to be quite some fun.

Scully's Hotel Room
Minutes Later

     "Go, Mulder. I'm sorry. It's none of my business what you do," 
     "Scully. . ."
     "Really. Go." She shut the door in his face, gently, so he wouldn't think
she was mad. Even though she was. She locked the connecting door and ripped
off her own clothes. Hurriedly, she slipped into pajamas and got ready for
bed. Sleep was the only thing that could erase all she'd seen that day.
Scully fell into bed, angry with Mulder and herself. Angry at Mulder, because
he should not have went *again* and played around when he was supposed to be
concentrating on work. Angry at herself because Mulder was not her problem,
and she should have left him alone. She should have stopped when she saw his
Speedos; she should have seen it coming. It was quite obvious that Mulder was
on the prowl for "other women." Other women. Scully snorted at herself.
Mulder was not hers, and she wasn't his. They were partners, and only
partners. It was his business, and only his business who he chose to spend
the nights with. Scully sighed. She knew the reasons at the root of all of
her concerns, but would not, could not let them surface. They were feelings
she was not allowed to have. Instead, she buried her face in the pillow and
tried her hardest to just forget.

     Mulder searched the pool area, the hot tub, and the bar, but Lois was long
gone. 

     "Lois" waited until well after midnight to put her new plan to work. Her
human-spell had only a short time left to it when she quietly rapped at Agent
Scully's hotel room door. She had conjured up some clothes for herself, and
also shed some fake tears. She was ready. 
     Scully looked like hell. She opened the door a crack and whispered in a
venomous hiss,
     "Wrong room, sweetheart,"
     "No, Agent Scully," Lois stammered through sobs, "I need your help." Scully
opened the door and let Lois in. *Humans are so gullible,* she thought. 
     "What is it?" Scully spat in her sleep-thickened voice.
     "Agent Mulder is in trouble, come on, we have to hurry. . ." She sobbed.
*God, I'm good,* she told herself as she led Agent Scully to the deserted
maid's storage closet. 
     "Where is he?" Scully's voice was urgent. "What happened?"
     Lois cleared her throat. She felt herself start to shrink, her body reform.
She picked up the object closest to her, a little vial of hotel shampoo. 
     "My man was little and cunning and green
     He was the sexiest leprechaun you ever seen
     But then you came
     And killed him in shame
     So I'm taking Mulder, just to be mean!"
     With these words, the leprechaun, now standing on a counter, slammed the
plastic shampoo bottle down on Scully's head. She slumped to the floor,
unconscious. Laughing a high-pitched devil's laugh, the leprechaun grabbed a
couple towels and started tying Scully up.

     
The Holiday Inn
April 8, 7:22 a.m.

     Mulder was a little alarmed. The door to Scully's hotel room stood open and
she was absolutely nowhere to be found. He hoped she wasn't too mad at him. A
mad Scully was harder to deal with than a mad Skinner, or a mad Cancerman any
day. She was ruthless. He sighed. What to do? He could wait around, but what
if she was in trouble? He decided to see if their rental was still in the
lot.
     The Florida air was thick with the distant smell of rain. The clouds were
one, long grey slab, covering everything. Mulder hoped it wouldn't rain. He
wanted the weather to stay nice. He wanted to swim again.
     The car was not there. The space where it had been was far from empty,
however. Written out in towels was this message:
     Agent Scully had a little fall
     911 I did not want to call
     So I took her with me
     So both of you can see
     It's a small world after all.
     *Disney World!* Mulder thought, running as fast as he could around to the
front of the building. There, a family was just getting out of a pink Lincoln
Continental. Mulder reached for his credentials.
     "FBI!" He shouted, "I'm commandeering this vehicle!"
     "Wait, why?" A flustered father asked. Mulder did not have to explain, but
he had to say something.
     "FBI business; I need to get to Disney World!" 
     The father held out the keys.
     "Why don't you just take the shuttle?" Asked the wife bitterly. Mulder
ignored her, snatched the keys and jumped into the luxury car. The tires
screamed as he took off for Disney World, hoping to god he was not too late.

     Scully found herself trapped in the "Its a Small World" ride back in Disney
World. She tried to scream through the gag the leprechaun had made out of a
shower cap back at the hotel. It was useless. No one would hear her over the
incessant singing of the million animatronic annoyances that stared down at
her from either side of the river. Scully had been lucid for a full five
hours now, and all of those hours had been spent tied up on the bottom of a
little boat as it made its way through hell again and again. 
     "It's a small world after all. . . it's a small world after all. . ." over
and over and over and it was worse than Chinese water torture. *Kill me like
you did to Colton, please,* she had mumbled through the gag at the leprechaun
last time she had seen the little green rascal. That was hours ago as well,
and what had once been "Lois" had just laughed, green eyes glowing. 
     "It's a world of hope, It's a world of fears. . ." the song went on and on
and on and on and on, and it ate at her sanity. The mocking robotic faces
sneered and taunted her as the boat traveled slowly along it's course. *God
save me,* Scully thought, horrified. The park was still closed because of the
murder of Colton. It would be days before anyone tended to this ride, and by
then, she'd be ready for a nice straightjacket, and it wouldn't matter if the
leprechaun had Mulder as a husband or not. Scully could still see the little
vile face as the leprechaun dreamily explained her master plan. "Fox and I
will fall hopelessly in love. (Hopeless for him, that is.) He'll buy me a
house on a potato farm on the other side o' the rainbow, and a neon-green
Lamborghini, and he'll be father to my litter. . ." Oh, God. A litter. Scully
knew she had to escape, but that little green wench tied the binds tight.
Scully lay on the gum-littered floor of the little boat and struggled against
the ropes. She could feel the music like fingers reaching in and poking at
her brain in time with the rhythm of the music. Scully knew that if she did
not free herself, that the music would indeed take over her mind. Gritting
her teeth, Scully lashed out with her last sane breath, trying to free
herself. The towels dug into her skin as she pushed out against them, but she
could not break free.

     "It's a small world after all. . ."
     
     The leprechaun came back an hour later. She stopped the boat, but not the
music. Instead, she sang along. The animated people on all sides kept up
their motions as well. This was where her plan came to it's end. Lois the
leprechaun looked over to where small group of animatronic kids were flying
kites. Their hand motions, as they directed their kites were quite like the
motion of stabbing. To one animated arm, the leprechaun tied a pencil,
because she just did not have a knife. Anyway, she was sure it would work.
Her now late husband-to-be had often told the tale of how he'd killed a man
with something as blunt as a a pogo stick. 
     After tying the pencil securely in place, the leprechaun waited for the boat
to come around. It was oh-so-painfully slow. But at last it made it's way
around the bend. It is a small world, after all. As the boat sailed closer,
Lois caught the stupefied half-crazed glaze in Scully's eyes.
     "It's a small world. . . " Scully sang in a happy little whisper through the
shower-cap-gag. 
     "Okay, great. This won't hurt a bit," Lois said as she magically lifted
Scully's body and placed it next to her in the field of kite flyers. She
didn't put Scully under the pencil quite yet, she needed to make sure first,
that she'd stolen Scully's mind. "Scully?" She crowed. Scully did not look at
her. She just sang in a whisper. It was better than Lois had first thought.
Scully was dead to the world, however small it may be. Lois raised her arms
and began commanding Scully's body towards the pencil. It drifted through the
air and landed nicely, Scully's heart right underneath the glistening lead.
The cute little animatron raised it's arm in joy, sending the kite up. Then
with a squeal of metal on metal, the arm came down. The first time the pencil
hit her flesh, just above her left breast, Scully laughed as if it were just
another part of the ride. It went through her shirt but did not break skin.
Not yet. Lois turned to go to the control room, and turn up the speed, and
thus increase the stabbing power of the happy little kite flyer. 
     She walked through the forest of grinning lifeless figures, but had gone
only fifteen feet when Fox stepped in her path.
     "Where is she?" Mulder growled.
     "Who are you talking about, Foxy? Come on, baby, let's make love right here,
with all these mechanical little eyes watching. . . you can be on top. . . "
the leprechaun purred in her sleaziest Lois voice. Mulder stepped forward.
"Lois" opened her arms to greet Mulder. He decided to humor her, not knowing
that once a female leprechaun kisses you in her natural form, you belong to
her forever. Luckily, that was no problem, because as the girly leprechaun
puckered up, Mulder kicked her, sending her reeling. The green "water" in the
ride, which has not been changed since 1971, and has never been water,
seethed beneath the off-balance leprechaun. She struggled for footing, never
having a chance. As Mulder watched in horror, leprechaun flesh hit green
liquid. The stuff began to hiss and boil as Lois was eaten alive. Her
features bubbled and boiled away in the foul green sludge. She tried to
scream, but no sound could be heard over the song drilling into their minds.

     Mulder ran along through the freaky lifeless robots. Scully was still
humming along to the music when he got to her side. Mulder ripped the pencil
from the kite flyer's hand, and knelt next to Scully. She continued her
humming, her glazed green eyes stared past him, to a world that was not
there. Mulder hesitated for a second, and then scooped his partner into his
arms. Tripping through the mob of singing metal, he headed to the exit.
     Once out in the rain, Mulder began releasing the dirty towel binds. He
ripped the spitty shower cap out of Scully's mouth. She kept up her low,
eerie singing.
     "Scully, it's me, Mulder, Scully, answer me," he pleaded. She just stared at
the bleak sky and sang.
     "It's a small world after all. . ." 
     Mulder took her face between his shaking hands, directed her eyes to him.
She didn't even blink. 
     "Scully, please, Scully, snap out of it," he called, voice on the verge of
breaking. Scully did not respond. Her sweet voice continued spewing the
filthy song over and over. Mulder shook her, trying to do
something--anything. e couldn't bear living knowing she was. . . like this. 
     Mulder then looked to the pencil injury. After repeated rhythmic stabbing,
it had drawn blood. Gingerly, Mulder pulled the collar of Scully's shirt down
to look at the wound. He breathed a sigh of relief as his fingers revealed it
was quite small, and only trickling blood. He carefully tried wiping some of
the blood away, as tears ventured into his eyes. What if she never snapped
out of it? What if she sang that horrible, brain-sucking tune for the rest of
her life?
     "It's a small world," she sang, "It's a small, small world. Mulder, get your
hand off of my breast!" She sat up, tugging her shirt back into place with
one hand and slapping Mulder with the other. She was suddenly sorry for doing
so, then, because she remembered what had been going on. And to think
Mulder's caress of her breast had been what snapped her out of it. . .
     He reeled from the stinging slap, but then took his partner in a light
embrace. And, to his surprise, she returned it. 
     "Are you okay?" He asked, pulling gently free. 
     "I. . I think so. What about. . .what about Lois?"
     "Lois?"
     "She was the leprechaun. A shape-shifting leprechaun. . ."  Scully said
aloud, a little of the delirium tugging at her mind. While sane, she would
have never voiced it.
     "She's dead." Mulder said, not sure if Scully was in her right mind. 
     "Good," Scully said quietly. Mulder stood, and then reached down to help his
partner to her feet. the rain started coming down faster, and they ran
side-by side, Mulder's hand guiding the still-unsteady Scully along on the
small of her back. They reached another one of the buildings, and ducked
inside. 

     "Scully, are you sure you're okay?" He asked, after watching her zone out a
little while. He hated the marble look her eyes took on. 
     "Hmm? Yeah." She said. Ever since they'd ducked into the little restaurant,
he could tell she was bothered by something. As he'd called for some backup,
to look for whatever existed of the leprechaun's body, she'd just sat at a
table and tapped out a rhythm to the tune of that hateful song. He'd walked
over to her and tenderly stopped her hand. She didn't even seem to notice she
was doing it. She'd had that look in her eyes then. Who knows if it could
return to steal her back into her own small world?
     "Are you sure?"
     "Yes." She said, her voice hard. It was a definite and-that-is-that Scully
voice. Thank god.
     "Alright." He mumbled, sitting in the booth, across from her.
     "There's just one thing," she said. Immediately, Mulder worried.
     "What?"
     "We still haven't had our three wishes." She said, smiling. Mulder sighed.
He knew she was gonna be okay.

The End
(for now ?)

PS. I do not mean to badmouth Disney World. It rocks!! Well, its just that
the "Its a Small World" ride is a little annoying. . . 

Come on and E-mail me now. What did you think? I know it wasn't as good as
"Three Wishes," but what did you think anyway? Would you like to see another
leprechaun story? Or would you rather have me dump my computer off the edge
of the world? I'm ready and waiting for *all* comments here at
JBeanfest@aol.com

". . .bagpipers and leprechauns. . . hip-twitching Polynesians, surfers, and
even dolphins--sing and dance to a melody that will run through your head for
hours after you float out of their wonderland." -- From a paragraph
describing the "It's a Small World" ride in Disney World in a 1987 guidebook.
Seriously!