Title: Careless Wishes
Author: by syn
Category: Humor-Parody/PG-13
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed in this story are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox Television. No copyright infringement is intended and no money may be made from this story.
Spoilers: All seasons through season Five/Redux2

Summary: An ancient potion and wishful thinking lead to a terrible situation for poor Scully.


The old gypsy woman was dying.  

The case was over and Dana Scully stood over the old woman as she was slowly loaded onto a gurney and wheeled toward the ambulance. Scully took her hand and held it, as the paramedics opened the doors.  

"I want you to have something," the old lady whispered to Scully, with her fading breath. "I have it here."  

With a trembling hand the gypsy pulled out a thin chain from around her neck and showed it to Scully, who grasped it curiously and noted the tiny bottle attached to the end of it.  

"It is an ancient potion of my people."  

Scully looked at it curiously. "What is it supposed to do?"  

The old gypsy smiled at her, with blackened teeth and bad gums. "It brings the dead back to life."  

Scully raised an eyebrow at her. "Really?" she said, trying to keep the scoffing sounds to a minimum.  

The old woman nodded in reply, gasping for air, but still smiling. "Yes. It returns your loved ones to you from beyond the grave, but you must use it wisely. Carefully. Thoughtfully."  

"Uh, huh. Well, um, thank you very much," said Scully to the woman, with a tight smile. She turned to the paramedics. "Be sure to give her a *large* dose of Haloperidol when you get there. I think she needs it," she whispered to them.  

The paramedics nodded as the old gypsy was loaded into the ambulance. Scully stared at the bottle, as the old lady's voice echoed out from behind the closing doors.  

"Remember. Use it wisely...."  


Scully had just finished typing up her report on the case, when her eye caught the light that seemed to glow from the little bottle that the gypsy woman gave to her. Picking it up, she tilted it this way and that, suddenly curious as to its true contents.  

Probably just colored sugar-water, Scully said to herself, getting up to pour herself another cup of tea from her kitchen. She returned to her laptop with a sigh, and began to proof-read her work, when the bottle caught her attention again. It was *really* glowing now, and Scully began to worry that there might be something actually hazardous in its contents.  

Picking it up once more, she took it into her bathroom. Scully snapped on a pair of latex gloves and cautiously opened the wooden stopper atop the tube. Gingerly, she sniffed at, and smelled...nothing. Strange. Wonder where she got this, Scully wondered, making a mental note to bring the stuff into the lab at work for a real analysis.  

She was just about to put the stopper back in, when, the tiny vial slipped. Not much, but enough to spill a little of its contents onto the tiny ceramic soap-holding hippo that Scully had taken from her late sister's apartment as a memento of her.  

"Damn," Scully muttered under her breath, as the liquid in the vial proved caustic enough to cause the hippo's tail to melt off. "Now what the hell..." she began, but was interrupted.  

By the doorbell.  

Rolling her eyes, Scully carefully corked the bottle, and placed it gently down on the counter. The doorbell rang again, this time with furious dinging, one ring right after the other. Scully jogged out of the bathroom, as the doorbell continued to ring.  

"Yeah, yeah. I'm coming, I'm coming," she yelled with annoyance. "God, you ring the doorbell just like my..." she said flipping the door open.  

To see Melissa Scully standing before her.  

"...sister," Scully finished weakly, growing dizzy from shock.  

"Dana?" said Melissa, tilting her head to one side with a curious expression.  

"Oh...my...god," Scully whispered, gasping for air. "Oh, MY GOD!" she screamed, yanking her sister inside the apartment and leaping on her, nearly shrieking with joy. "OH MY GOD!"  

"Gak, uh, Dana," choked Melissa, as her sister twirled them both around the room, dangling from her, her arms wrapped tightly around her neck. "Dana, you're killing me. Jesus. Have you gained weight or what?"  

Scully jumped off of her sister, laughing and crying all at once. "This is incredible! This is amazing! We have to get Mom!"  

Melissa looked at her with confusion. "Why?"  

Scully stared at her and then shook her head. "Of course. How would you know?" She steered her sister to the sofa and bade her to sit down. "Melissa," she began carefully, "this might be hard for you to believe, but you've been dead for the past two years. I'm not sure how you've returned back to life and I'm sure we'll have to do some serious studies into all of this, but I know it must be fate that brought you back to us. Now, if you have any questions, we can..."  

Melissa stared her during this speech and then nodded. "Well, actually, yes. I *do* have a question."  

"Yes?" replied Scully, smiling and nodding encouragingly.  

"Is that my necklace you're wearing?" asked Melissa, pointing to a crystal dangling from a chain around Scully's neck.  

Scully looked down in confusion. "Um, yes. I think it is actually."  

Melissa's eyes narrowed. "You know, you could *ask* before borrowing my stuff. I mean, I don't rummage through *your* jewelry box do I? Not that I'd wear any of that WASPy, wispy stuff anyway."  

"But Melissa," replied Scully incredulously. "You were *dead*."  

"What difference does that make?" asked Melissa, reaching over and pulling the necklace off over Scully's head with an annoyed yank. "I mean, someone with a little foresight, with a little respect for my personal property, should have known that I wouldn't want anyone wearing this necklace."  

She sighed and examined the crystal carefully as Scully gaped at her. "I mean, like, you got your karma all over it. I mean, like, I can't use it at all now."  

"My karma? Melissa, perhaps this isn't sinking in yet, but you were *dead*. D-E-A-D. Gone. Bought a Yugo. Cured of your oxygen habit. Smelling up the party. A human coat rack," said Scully, slowly, carefully. "So, I think that *asking* to borrow your things isn't really the..."  

"Hey!" cried Melissa, looking around the apartment. "Those are my CURTAINS! And these are my throw pillows!" She got up, her eyes darting through the room. "And MY YANNI ALBUMS!"  

She turned to her sister furiously, her hands on her hips. "Jesus, Dana. What did you do? Hire a truck and haul my stuff into here the day after I died? God, it's just like a Christmas Carol, grabbing all my earthly goods, laughing like a hyena over my possessions."  

Scully felt herself flushing a dark red. "I wanted some things to remember you by," she whispered, wondering why she was suddenly losing her temper with someone who moments before she was ecstatic to see.  

Melissa rolled her eyes. "*Some* things? Some things. I looks like you took ALL my things. I mean, what, you were going to look at your curtains and think of me? I don't think so. And what? I'll bet you have all my clothes to remember me by too. And my shoes...no, no wait a minute," she said nastily. "My shoes are too small for those giant tug-boat feet of yours."  

"Tug-boat feet?!" cried Scully. "Who are YOU calling tug-boat feet, Miss Hippo Hips?" She stood up and furiously put her hands on her waist. "Not only don't I have your clothes, that ugly outdated crap which I wouldn't wear if I were naked at a sex fiend convention, but your clothes wouldn't fit me anyway."  

She leaned in and whispered at Melissa. "Because they are three sizes too BIG," she said with a smirk.  

"You wouldn't need clothes at a sex fiend convention, Dana. You wouldn't have a worry in the world. They'd just take one look at that cottage cheese posterior of yours," said Melissa, her fingers curling into fists. "Or maybe, the notable difference in the hair color from the top of your head in comparison to your..."  

"THAT'S IT!" screamed Scully, lunging toward Melissa.  

Soon, the only sounds that could be heard in Dana Scully's apartment were the ones of nails against skin, heads against floors and those peculiar high pitched yelps that are the result of sudden and violent hair loss.  

"Bitch!"  

"Hippo!"  


"You don't know what it is?"  

Dana Scully came into work the very next morning, almost running to the FBI's Sci-Crime laboratory, breathless, annoyed and slightly balder with a faint shiner under her right eye.  

"No," replied the technician. "It's very strange, but the compounds in here are unknown. I mean I can break down the elements of it, possibly to its core ones. But it will take some time."  

"Oh," sighed Dana, taking the vial back sadly. "Well thanks anyway." She tilted it again, as the tech waved his arms at her.  

"Oh, wait, I didn't put the cap back on tightly," he said quickly trying to grab it.  

But it was too late. With a splash, a few drops of the liquid spilled from the vial onto a "Bill Nye, The Science Guy" coffee mug that sat on the far end of the long lab table.  

Scully winced as she turned the vial upright and re-corked it tightly. "Sorry, about that," she said to the tech.  

"Oh," replied the technician sadly. "Don't worry. That's just Agent Pendrell's coffee cup."  

//Uh, oh.//  

"That was Agent Pendrell's?" asked Scully, her eyes growing huge.  

The technician nodded sadly. "Yeah. Poor guy. We keep it around to remind us of him."  

"Right," whispered Scully, backing out of the laboratory, her face white. "Thank you for you time," she croaked, before entering the hallway and taking off like a shot down toward the "Exit" sign.  

The tech went to the door and called out after her as she ran. "Hey! Don't you want your report?"  


She entered her apartment with a pounding heart.  

No, no. I'm sure that nothing happened, she thought frantically, slamming the door behind her with a bang. I'm sure that it was just a one-time-only deal, with Melissa, she thought as she went into her dining room.  

And I'm sure that the person sitting at my dining room table isn't who I think it is, she thought hysterically, her brain reeling at the sight.  

The sight of Agent Pendrell.  

Sitting at her dining room table, alone. With narrow eyes and five tapping fingers.  

"Oh...my...god," she whispered, as he glared at her.  

"Well, well, well," he said, not sounding very much like the nice, sweet person she thought she remembered. "If it isn't the famous, or should I say, *infamous* Dr. Napkins," he snarled. "Pioneer in the use of paper products to save the lives of innocent bystanders and fellow agents throughout the world."  

Melissa came into the room and looked at Scully with disdain. "I knew you were a quack," she said airily, before grabbing an apple from the table and biting into it.  

"Oh, my, god..." whispered Scully again, feeling very faint indeed. "Now, please. Listen to me, Pendrell, this is all a terrible mistake..." began Scully before Melissa interrupted her.  

"I don't think Daniel is interested in your explanations, Dana. Not that you ever have any that make sense, anyway..."  

"Who's Daniel?" asked Scully, turning toward Melissa with a confused expression.  

Pendrell's eyes grew wide and then narrowed. His face turned an astonishing array of colors, running the gamut of Enraged Red to Psychotic White.  

"Who's Daniel?" he whispered. "Who...is...Daniel?"  

"Um, well, I, uh..."  

"WHO'S DANIEL?" he cried out, rising up. "WHO *IS* DANIEL?"  

Scully backed away fearfully, reaching for her holster.  

"YES!" he continued to scream. "WHO The HELL IS DANIEL!? Only the SHMUCK who gave you all of his time and energy and to whom YOU gave nothing in return! Only the DOOF who gave you a PIECE OF HIS FLESH!"  

He took a deep shuddering breath, his eyes nearly popping out from his head, as Scully began to tremble. "That's who Daniel is," he spat, taking deep breaths to calm himself down.  

//Oh, boy.//  

"Well, OK, I think we have a unique situation here," choked Scully, as she watched her sister slink over to Pendrell, eating her apple suggestively.  

Pendrell smiled back at Melissa, who was running a finger over his tie. "You know, I just *love* science."  

Pendrell snorted and looked over Scully who's expression was rapidly changing from astonishment to annoyance. "No kidding," he replied, giving Melissa back his best, sweet smile and enjoying the dark look that rose in Scully's eyes. "Just like your sister over there."  

Melissa scowled at him. "Pal, I'm *nothing* like her," she spat, as Scully felt the heat of rage fill her cheeks.  

Pendrell looked at her innocently. "Really? And how are you different?"  

Melissa snuck a glance at her sister and then took a slow bite from her apple before replying. "I'm what you might call a "true" redhead..."  

"THAT'S IT!" screamed Scully, lunging once more.  

And once again, the only sounds filling the air in the apartment were shrill shrieks and loud slaps, but this time with the added tones of one man's laughter.  

"Fatso!"  

"Quack!"  


To: DScully@fbi.net From: FMulder@web.tv.com Sub: Misc.  

did you know that motel six actually has web tv? now I have kathy lee *and* the xxxx-mannequin love web site. say what you want about technology...  

thanks for the vacation coverage. I over-nighted the two pieces of evidence that I believe conclusively link X and deep throat as belonging to the same covert organization.  

care to follow up for my while i'm out? thanX.  

M. ps: your last letter was slightly confusing. *who* did you get into a brawl with?  

Scully sighed and clicked out of her browser.  

Thank God, Mulder is on vacation, she sighed inwardly. At least I don't have to spend all my time denying *this* batch of events.  

Slowly she lowered her head to her desk with a groan. What the hell have I done? What the hell am I going to do? She'd extracted promises from both Pendrell and Melissa that they'd stay put until further notice, and she saw, with a certain dissatisfaction that neither of them minded very much being cooped up together in Scully's apartment.  

In fact, she'd thought she'd heard some pretty suspicious noises coming from the spare bedroom last night and...  

Oh, don't go there, she groaned to herself.  

Just don't.  

With another huge sigh, she ripped open the overnight package from Mulder, containing some paperwork and two personal items, matching cufflinks, worn both by Mr. X *and* Deep Throat. Hmmm, that's interesting she thought, as she carefully examined the four small, golden poodle cufflinks. Wonder what the *hell* that could mean, she thought, throwing them back in the box with a sigh.  

She lowered her head to her desk again, and didn't raise it when she heard the door open behind her.  

"Agent Scully?" asked the voice behind her.  

"Yes?" she sighed in reply and looked up to see the lab technician holding the report on the mysterious liquid and the small sample she'd given him the day before.  

"I have your report and your sample here, Agent Scully," he began, trying to pull out the papers from the middle of the large pile he was holding. He struggled for a moment, but then, they all fell from his hands with a *splat*. "Oh, god...sorry," he said, trying to gather the papers back up.  

"Don't worry about..." began Scully, until she noticed something. The sample the lab tech had been holding. It had fallen from his hands with the papers, opened, and it had landed right on...  

The cufflinks.  

And not any old cufflinks. The cufflinks belonging to a certain pair of informants.  

Dead informants.  

With a shriek, Scully rose and tried desperately to wipe them, but, it was too late. The liquid had already evaporated.  

//Uh, oh.//  

"GAAAHHH!!!" she screamed as she grabbed her coat and leapt for the door. Scully bolted out of the office like a bat out of hell, down the hall and up the stairs as the lab tech looked on in fear.  

Slowly, he crept to the doorway and yelled out after her in a weak voice. "Agent Scully? Don't you want your report?"  


It was worse than any nightmare that she could ever had thought of.  

When Dana Scully returned to her apartment, true to form, there sat not only the late Mr. X, but the even later, Deep Throat. The latter, looking smug, the former looking pissed, and both complaining of hunger, cold and general unhappiness with their new surroundings.  

"My dearest Agent Scully. You have no idea what an appetite I seem to have worked up in my absence," Deep Throat said in his familiar dulcet tones.  

"Agent Scully, I believe that this empty plate pointed in your general direction, should acquaint you quite fully with all the information you need as pertains to my extreme and profound hunger," continued *X*, scowling mightily.  

Pendrell came in the room, with Melissa draped over his neck like a living boa. "Forget it guys," he sniffed disdainfully. "She's about a good a cook as she is a doctor."  

Deep Throat and *X* winced.  

"We can call Pizza Hut," said Melissa, nuzzling Pendrell's ear.  

"That sounds like an excellent plan," replied Deep Throat, already tucking in a napkin in anticipation of a meal. "And be sure to order double for myself. When a man swims with sharks, he learns how to eat like one."  

"Pizza Hut?" Scully gasped. "Do you know how much that will cost? Did any of you bring some money with you from the great beyond, by any chance? Because if you didn't..."  

"Excuse me Agent Scully, but since *you* are the one who brought us back to life, then you are responsible for our maintenance, it appears," said Deep Throat, holding up his fork with a somewhat malicious air.  

Scully shook her head and threw up her hands. "Fine. Go ahead. Order away. I'll just have a hot chocolate for dinner," she said, angrily flinging open a kitchen cabinet door and yanking out the box of hot chocolate.  

The empty box of hot chocolate.  

"Excuse me?" she said, shaking the box and looking around the room with murder in her eyes. "This was full this morning. Who drank all of it?"  

"I wouldn't go there if I were you, Agent Scully," replied *X* menacingly, the faint traces of a hot chocolate still present in his mustache.  

"You drank ALL the hot chocolate?" Scully said incredulously, staring at "X".  

Mr. X merely glanced at her disdainfully. "No. I did not."  

Scully walked up to him slowly, shaking an empty Swiss Miss packet. "Excuse me, *X*. But how stupid do I look?"  

"I refuse to answer that, Agent Scully."  

"My dear Agent Scully, you know our saying don't you?" began Deep Throat again, as Scully turned on him viciously.  

*X* finished it for him. "Deny everything," he snarled.  

With a shriek of extreme frustration, Scully stomped out of the room to the loud laughter of all the occupants. She shut her bedroom door with a slam and threw herself upon her bed, muttering angry oaths and wondering exactly what the *hell* she was going to do. She closed her eyes and wished, wished very hard for a sensible solution to this mess, and then began to wish for *any* solution.  

Not unlike you used to wish for all these people to come back from the dead, the little voice in her head said to her mockingly.  

Oh, shut up, she replied and with a sigh, she flipped over and a small spot of red leather caught her eye. Picking it up curiously, Scully sat up with a *hmmm*. It was a dog collar, a little dog's collar.  

Queequag's collar.  

Oh, Queequag, she thought mistily. I should have brought you back to life first. At least you loved me, she thought miserably. Not like those bastards out there. They don't love me like you did, she thought, unconsciously reverting back to the baby talk she'd always spoken to her pet in.  

//Wes, wittle Queequag. Moomma lubbed her wittle quaggy-waggy. Gittchy gooey, puppy-wuppy, fuzzy-pie. Who's dat bes' little wittle babee-wabee puppy pie face? Who iz dat?//  

With a sniff, she put the collar down, and then picked it up again? Wait a minute, why the hell not? One more can't hurt, and at least I'll get some enjoyment out of this one. Scully looked at the collar and then picked up the vial with trembling fingers.  

Just one more. What difference could it make?  

Carefully, she let a tiny drop fall on the collar and it promptly disappeared with a slight fizzing noise. With baited breath she waited, and then, to her delight, she heard Melissa yell from the front room.  

"What the hell is scratching at the door?"  

With a yelp, Scully jumped up and ran to the door happily. She flung it open with a triumphant gesture and squealed with happiness when she saw the little orange fur-ball in front of her.  

"Queequag!," she cried ecstatically. "Momma's wittle-quittle, baby-waby puppy sluppy poopy pie, fuzzy face has come home to his Mama!"  

She scooped up the Pomeranian and turned to everyone, with a smirk. "At least I have *something* that loves me."  

"Yeah, loves you a lot it seems," replied Melissa with a giggle, motioning for Scully to look at her blouse.  

The blouse that Queequag had just relieved himself upon.  

Scully looked down in horror at the widening wet stain and then dropped Queequag with a shriek. She could hear the riotous laughter as she ran to the bathroom and as she stripped out her clothes, a dark storm brewed in her eyes.  

Something is going to *have* to be done here.  

Something.  

Scully cleaned up slowly and thought. Suddenly, a light, an dangerous light, shone in her eyes. Sneaking quietly, she tiptoed to the back of the apartment as the loud orders of "mushrooms" and "pineapples" and "lemurs" were being called out from the living room.  

She entered her bedroom quietly and picked up the vial. There wasn't much left she noticed, so she had to choose wisely. Slowly, she opened a drawer and picked up a small evidence bag that she'd stored there for safekeeping. Looking toward the door, she glanced back at the contents of the bag and slowly...  

Pulled out the half-smoked butt of a "Morley" cigarette.  

Glancing behind her, she lifted the vial and prepared to pour as an old saying went through her mind.  

//Careful what you wish for.//
//You just might get it.//  


The End?  

Feedback is to authors what tap dancing is to baby gerbils. Any comments?  

Note: The Pendrell rants are courtesy of CiCi Lean and the Pendrell Fan Club, The Labmice, who are the funniest (and angriest) X-Philes on earth.

 

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