Date: Mon, 22 Dec 1997 21:38:53 -0800
From: ThePen@hotmail.com
Subject: Submitting "Faeries"


Title: Faeries
Author: The Pen and The Brain
Category: XR
Rating:PG-NC17
Summary: Mulder and Scully pursue a peculiar case in Cornwall and
discover things within each other at the same time.


Disclaimer: Hi again from the Pen and the Brain. This is an 
absolutely massive story that I am working on getting from an 
excercise book into the computer. Despite the title this story is 
firmly rooted in the real world (Well, as real as the X-Files 
world gets :-).) It has romance, sorry to all non-
relationshippers out there. It is rated PG at the moment, it 
might get... raunchier later:-) We'll let you know. Bear with 
part one, it's all plot, setting the scene etc, the characters will 
show soon!

Real Disclaimer: We wish these characters were ours. Alas they
are not. The belong to Fox, and CC and 1013 and so on and so 
forth. Sigh.

Please reply, we got none for "Figs". My E-Mail is 
ThePen@hotmail.com
***

Hayle, Cornwall. 1961.

It was the heavy and unnatural blanket of silence that woke 
Eilian George from her restless sleep. An oppressive, thick 
silence that hung over the house, stifling sound with it's 
lethargic weight. She was jarred awake by a sudden shock of 
fear that had her trembling so hard that her teeth chattered in 
the muffled quiet of the bedroom. She shivered under the 
heavy musty smelling quilt and realised that the bed was as 
cold as the surrounding air.

"Walter" Her voice was a mere tremor as she reached out to 
the dark lump beside her in the bed. She found a cool 
shoulder and shook it gently, but her husband didn't move. 
She felt fear start to coil deep in her stomach. "Walter?" 
More insistently this time, her voice growing stronger and at 
the same time, more alarmed. Her vision slowly adjusted to 
the dimness of the room and she saw his chest rising and 
falling under the blanket. A monotonous, regular rhythm.

Eilian sighed, feeling the relief wash over her and she relaxed 
back into the pillows. Suddenly a shrill scream broke the 
extreme silence of the house. Eilian shot upright, flinging off 
the covers and leaping down from the high old bed, a sharp 
cry of pain catching in her throat as her ankle twisted under 
her. The floor was freezing, numbing her toes, but Eilian 
didn't notice as she ran for the door. Another scream 
shattered the air, cutting through her rasping gasps. *Dear 
God! not the baby.* The door was stuck. The handle wouldn't 
turn, the frame itself shuddering under Eilian's wrenching 
onslaught.

"Kate!" she yelled desperately. The cries continued, growing 
more hoarse and exhausted by the moment. Eilian turned 
back to the bed, expecting to see Walter rising like a giant 
from the rumpled bedclothes. Nothing.

Suddenly the realisation hit her and she felt her knees go 
weak, the breath catching in her throat. Her eyes darted 
around the room until they lit upon a branch of rowan, 
languishing in a jar of water beside the bed. Earlier that day 
she had picked them in the woods near the house to add 
colour to the room in lieu of flowers. But now the bright 
foliage and scarlet berries shone in the dark like a safety 
beacon and with a sob Eilian snatched them from the water, 
the glass clattered to the floor and spun of the wooden boards 
without breaking.

The door yielded unwillingly under her hand and she shoved 
it open, stumbling down the hall, the long night-gown 
tangling in her legs and hampering every step.

Kate's broken cries were dimmer now, less frequent, but they 
were still terrified and they tore at Eilian's heart. *Please, not 
the baby-* With a triumphant shout she forced the nursery 
door open, slamming it against the wall. But what she saw 
froze her tongue and the rowan fell from numbed fingers.

A hundred thousand tiny Faerie lights danced around the 
room, casting an eerie blue-green hue on the walls and 
causing a whirring breeze to whisper through the open 
curtains. In the midst of this luminous chaos was Kate, 
twisting and writhing on a pallet of light, her pale little face 
contorted into a grimace of angry fear. Her dark eyes reflected 
the intense green of the Faerie lights, her fine hair matted to 
her forehead in a damp spiderweb of chestnut curls.

She turned her feverish gaze on Eilian. "Mama?"

And it broke the spell.

"Daoine Sidhe." The ancient words fell from Eilian's lips and 
froze in the biting air.

The lights paused, dimmed and flickered as she took a step 
forward, arms outstretched to the now silent baby, but just as 
her fingers reached for Kate the room erupted into furious 
whirring once more. A blinding flash of iridescent blue shot 
past her nose and she reeled back, her eyes closed, the intense 
light burning on her retinas.

When she reopened her eyes they were gone. The only other 
presence in the room was the leg-kicking, gurgling baby in 
the crib.

Eilian slapped on the light, provoking and startled squawk 
from the infant, and she snatched her up from the blankets, 
sinking to the floor with a sob. "My Kate," she murmured, 
lifting the baby's head to face her.

Then she stopped, the heaviness forming in her heart.

The sweet round face was Kate's. The matted curls. The 
waving hands and the scent of warm milk and baby powder 
were all painfully familiar. But the vacant look in the bright 
emerald eyes didn't belong to Kate. And they stared, 
unrecognising into Eilian's face with all of the emotion of a 
marble statue.



"Faeries" by The Pen and the Brain: Part 2 of many. For disclaimer see part 1

***
J Edgar Hoover Building
12:45pm.

The lights were off in the dim basement office when Special 
Agent Dana Scully opened the door.

She stepped slowly into the room and frowned, half curious. 
"Mulder?"

The door closed behind her and she tensed, one hand 
reaching automatically for her gun, the other for the light-
switch.

A strong hand caught her wrist and warm fingers tightened 
slightly.

"Leave it off, Scully," came his voice, quite close behind her.

She relaxed, took a step back and nearly collided with him as 
she shrugged out of her overcoat. His hand on her arm 
steadied her.

"What's going on here, Mulder?" she asked, trying to keep 
the suspicion out of her voice. She heard him chuckle in 
response, then there was a click, and the familiar white-light 
of the overhead projector filled the room.

"A slide show," he replied.

Turning she saw the projector set up in the corner of the 
room, the screen blank. "Oh goodie."

Mulder had moved on and was standing by the projector, 
watching her, waiting with a sardonic smile. The light lit his 
chiselled features, making him seem gaunt and haunted.

With a *click* the image of a freckle faced boy appeared. 
Scully judged him to be about five or six. He had a gappy 
smile and dark unruly hair that spilled onto the collar of his 
cubs uniform.

"Cute kid, Mulder," Scully said without turning to him. 
"Your secret love child?"

His dark eyes were smiling at her in the shadows and he 
motioned for her to come stand beside him.

She dropped her briefcase in her chair and moved to join him, 
picking her way precariously through the heaped paperwork 
on his side of the office. He wordlessly handed her a case file 
and she opened it and began to skim read as he gestured with 
a pen to the screen. 

"This... *kids* name is - was - Henry Baxter," he said, his 
voice carefully emotionless. "He vanished from a camping 
trip his Cub Troupe was holding. He was found two days 
later-"

"Dead, at the bottom of a small lake in Hayle," Scully 
finished for him. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because his death is our newest case - and our most high-
priority one," replied Mulder with just a hint of a smile in his 
voice.

Scully thought about that for a moment, a frown marring the 
pale cream of her brow. "But, it's considerably out of federal 
jurisdiction, Mulder. Hayle is in Cornwall-"

"Which is in England, Scully," he grinned.

"Right. And at any rate it looks like an accidental drowning. 
Even Scotland Yard doesn't get involved with that. So since 
when did they bring in the FBI?"

Mulder pulled a black and white photograph off his desk and 
gave it to her. "Henry Baxter is Senator James Baxter's only 
son. He lived in Cornwall with his mother, Peta Waterhouse, 
who remarried after the divorce, but he saw his father 
regularly. Senator Baxter was understandably distraught at 
his sons death."

Scully put the photo of the Senator aside and sighed, 
frustrated with his cryptic answers. "Naturally. But that 
doesn't answer my question." She held the file out towards 
him, "What are *we* doing with this case?"

He shook his head, looking a little disappointed and gently 
took the file from her. "James Baxter is a powerful man."

She waited. "And?"

"And this is the fifth drowning in as many months of children 
in Hayle between the ages of four and eight. All with 
matching M.O's. Separately they all look like accidental 
drownings. But five Scully?" He shook his head and 
shrugged, "Five looks like exhausting the odds."

She looked at him. He looked tired and drawn, she wondered 
how he had struggled with this case when it first landed on 
his desk. It was close, uncomfortably close, to his heart. "But 
even if it *is* the work of a serial killer, it's *England* 
Mulder. Why isn't Scotland Yard investigating?"

He handed her the file again. "Scotland Yard has been 
involved since the third drowning. They haven't been able to 
pull anything up. The official request for our help was put in 
by Detective Inspector Alec Stephens."

"But it's not an X-File."

"No. I went to school with Taffy," he grinned. "Inspector 
Stephens."

Scully raised her eyebrows doubtfully. "Taffy? Should I ask?"

He patted her arm reassuringly. "It's a running joke."

"Oh."

Another click and Henry Baxter's face was replaced with 
another child. This time a tousle-haired blonde girl.

"The first - I hesitate to use the phrase victim, but for the 
want of a better phrase it will have to do. The first victim was 
Janet Quinlan. She died, or rather, was found June the eighth. 
That was treated as an accident and her parents buried her 
without an investigation. Same with the second-" Mulder 
changed the slides again. "Bethany Ashcroft, age eight. The 
eldest victim yet. She was found July sixteenth, but had 
disappeared a week earlier. They didn't find her until she, 
um-" he grimaced, a shadow of old pain passing over his 
face. "Until she floated."

"Bodies generally surface after two to three days," supplied 
Scully.

"Thankyou Scully," he said wryly.

"So where did she spend the rest of the week? And why 
wasn't there a search? I mean, Hayle is a small town-"

"There *was* a search, Scully," said Mulder quite gently. 
An extensive one. They didn't turn anything up. Bethany 
Ashcroft wasn't in Hayle that week."

"But how can you-"

"I know these places. If Bethany Ashcroft had been near they 
would have found her," Mulder said insistently.

She sighed, "Okay. So if it was suspected kidnapping why 
didn't they report it? Why wasn't there an investigation?"

"Extraneous evidence," muttered Mulder.

Scully looked hard at him. "*How* extraneous?"

"Bethany Ashcroft's mother filed for divorce and left the 
house a day before Bethany disappeared. Everyone assumed 
she came back and took the daughter."

Scully closed her eyes for a moment. "But you believe 
otherwise." It wasn't a question.

He looked sharply at her. "She turned up dead, Scully."

She looked away from his penetrating gaze. "But at least she 
turned up, right?"

He didn't reply and after a moment she glanced up again and 
found him staring intently at her. "After Bethany Ashcroft 
was Joshua Lomas," she said, trying to break the tense 
atmosphere.

He kept his eyes on her for a moment longer then turned back 
to the projector, processing the slides forward. "He 
disappeared and was found on the same day, August twenty-
third. The locals were beginning to get suspicious about the 
lake, so they contacted the Yard. Three days after Alec 
arrived, little Peter Briggs went missing. His body showed up 
on the second of September. After that was Henry Baxter." 
The emotionless tone had fallen from his voice and she saw 
the raw emotion in his eyes.

Scully frowned, concerned. "Mulder?"

He turned on her. "They're just children, Scully. Five *kids*. 
How could someone kill them?"

She met his gaze and felt his pain. Gently she said, "Mulder 
we don't have enough details yet to know for certain that it 
*was* murder. I need you to remain impartial on this one. 
Please."

He shook his arm out of her grasp and seemed about to argue, 
but catching her expression his anger faded. "Look, Scully. 
The plane leaves at ten tomorrow morning. How about I
give you the file and send you home to pack?" He tried a 
crooked smile and she smiled back.

"Am I being dismissed?" she asked him.

"Go home and have an early night. I'll swing by and pick you
up tomorrow," he instructed her. "Okay?"

She agreed with a shrug and went to pick up her jacket. "I'll 
see you in the morning then."

"I'll be waiting with bated breath," he responded. "Just make
sure you're dressed."

At the door she paused and looked back at him, but he was 
oblivious, lost in his own painful world as he sat by the 
projector staring at the young face of four-year-old Peter
Briggs.

***


"Faeries" by The Pen and the Brain: Part 3 of many. For disclaimer see part 1.
***
Mulder arrived at Scully's apartment at a quarter to eight the 
following morning. Bakery bag in hand he fumbled for his 
keys and unlocked the door, then froze when he heard the 
deep timbre of a man's voice. Hearing the light tone of 
Scully's coveted laughter follow didn't improve matters any. 
He opened the door quietly, straining to hear what they were 
saying. Then he roughly chastised himself for being a fool 
and quickly strode into the kitchen.

Scully was sitting at the kitchen table with her back to him in 
her terrycloth robe with her hair drying in tumbled curls, 
Opposite her a dark haired man was sitting holding a coffee 
cup. He tensed when Mulder entered and for one bizarre 
moment Mulder thought that the other man was going to 
literally leap to Scully's protection and throw him out of the 
house. He almost wanted to see him try.

"Um, Dana?" said the guy, motioning to Mulder.

Scully turned, her eyes widening slightly when she saw 
Mulder.

He held out the paper bag. "Pastries," he said rather weakly, 
putting it down on the table. "I thought that we could have 
breakfast." He saw her exchange a look with the dark man 
opposite her and forced down a wave of jealousy.

"You're early," she said.

"I let myself in."

She looked at him for a moment with an expression that he 
knew well, then she turned to the other man. "Bryan, this is 
Fox Mulder."

Bryan stood up to shake Mulder's hand and Mulder studied 
him carefully. He was as tall, if not taller than Mulder, with 
the same long limbed physique and sculpted features. His eyes 
were a light blue, a striking contrast to his dark, perfectly 
styled hair. He was smiling. Uneasily Mulder tried to mirror 
his expression.

"So there *is* a Mulder," said Bryan to Scully as he took his 
seat again. "And here I was, thinking that he was just an excuse 
not to have dinner with me, Dana."

Mulder sat in a chair next to Scully and shuffled it closer, 
picking miserably at the pastry bag.

Scully frowned at him as he began to spread crumbs over her 
table and standing up moved past him to find a plate. "Would 
you like some coffee, Mulder?" she said, sliding a plate across 
the table towards him. He nodded and turned his attention 
back to Bryan.

"So, Bryan, what do you do?"

The other man grinned disarmingly, exposing perfect white 
teeth. "I'm a lawyer."

Mulder raised an eyebrow. "Judging by your appearance I'd 
say you were a successful one."

Scully shot Mulder a warning glance, but Bryan just laughed 
easily.

"I'm the youngest partner in the Walker, Banks and Grey 
firm," he said with an affable smirk.

Oh *good*, thought Mulder.

"But what about you, Mulder - may I call you Mulder? - From 
what Dana has said, you're a pretty extraordinary man 
yourself."

Was there a barely veiled insult in that comment? wondered 
Mulder. Catching Scully's eye he decided not to pursue it.

The coffee was so hot that it burnt his tongue and he looked 
balefully at Scully, who hid a small smile behind her scroll.

"I live two doors down from Dana," Bryan was saying. "I 
don't spend much time in my apartment though. What with 
the work-load increasing at the rate that it is."

Mulder suppressed a yawn by taking another bite from his 
croissant and brushing the crumbs off his tie - the floating 
amoeba one today - with the back of his hand.

"I guess you and Dana get to travel a lot," said Bryan. 
"Where are you off to today? Cornwall?"

"The case is in Hayle, but we'll spend the first night in
London," Scully said.

Bryan sighed wistfully, "I love London." He looked with 
wistful eyes at the woman on the other side of the table.

Mulder watched him narrowly. "You've been to England?"

"I graduated from Cambridge."

"With honours," Scully supplied.

They shared a smile.

Mulder decided that he disliked this man intensely. He leaned 
nonchalantly back in his seat, just far enough to let his jacket 
slip open to reveal his gun. Bryan eyed it, nervously and 
Mulder grinned inwardly. "Have you packed yet, Sc- Dana?" 
he asked, turning his body slightly to exclude the handsome 
lawyer.

Scully's fierce eyes did battle with the passive smile on her 
lips. She was no fool, she could read his aggressive body 
language quite well thankyou very much and she silently 
chastised him for his rudeness. 

"Yes I have, Mulder," she replied in a carefully structured 
tone of voice. "My bag is in the living room by the front door. 
You probably tripped over it when you let yourself in."

Uh, oh. Mulder knew that he was in trouble.

Apparently Bryan knew it too. He gave an unsure chuckle and 
stood up, self consciously brushing off the fronts of his 
gabardine trousers. "I should probably let you get dressed," he 
said to Scully.

"Let me see you out," she replied with a final look at Mulder.

Mulder followed them out of the kitchen.

"Tell your mother that I said hello," Scully was saying.

"Oh absolutely," enthused Bryan. "Look, Dana, when you get 
back from England drop by my place and I'll cook you 
dinner," he chuckled, "*not* spaghetti - I promise."

Dana laughed, recognising his reference to a childhood 
anecdote she had shared with him.

Alarm bells went off inside Mulder's head and he stepped 
closer up behind her, until she could feel the warmth 
radiating off his body. The laughter caught in her throat.

Bryan glanced from the suddenly breathless Dana up to her 
partner, looming over her, watching her.

"Agent Mulder," said Bryan brusquely, holding out his hand - 
a mere courtesy. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

Mulder looked up and shook the proffered hand briefly, 
muttering something that may have passed as "Likewise". 
Then, looking into the other man's gaze, Bryan nearly took a 
step backward.

The look Mulder was giving him was intense and specifically 
designed to strike fear into Bryan's heart. It all too clearly 
said: *Back off. She's mine.* Bryan wondered on how many 
other men it had been executed successfully.

*Hell,* he told himself, *All's fair in love and war. Besides, a 
guy wearing a tie like that doesn't deserve to be taken 
seriously.*

He leant forward and in one fluid motion kissed Dana 
goodbye. A soft brush of lips that lingered just a modicum of 
time too long. "Be seeing you," he said.

She nodded, smiled and shut the door on his face.

"I don't like him," announced Mulder.

Scully sighed and turned around, putting her back to the 
door. Mulder took another step forward and glared at her. She 
stepped neatly around him and headed for the kitchen.

"Mulder, what is there not to like? I mean he's polite, 
educated, interesting to talk to-"

"Handsome, single, not to mention very well off if his shoes 
are anything to go by. Just the kind of man every father wants 
his daughter to marry," Mulder supplied miserably, trailing 
after her into the kitchen.

Scully laughed. "Mulder, I stopped doing things expressly to 
please my parents quite a long time ago. That's why I'm not 
living in suburbia, with two point three children and married 
to the boy next door." She caught his eye. "*Or* the man two 
doors down."

Mulder hiked himself up onto her bench and started playing 
with the toaster. "What did he want, anyhow?"

She paused in her activity of cleaning up and looked at him 
with raised eyebrows. "This morning? Coffee. Other times 
milk, sugar, a baby-sitter for his niece." She tilted her head, a 
little baffled, "Once he wanted to borrow my bonsai."

Mulder swung down from the bench and crossed the kitchen 
to her. "He doesn't want your *bonsai*, Scully. Anyone could 
see that. He wants what every red-blooded, testosteronal man 
wants from a pretty woman-"

"Testosteronal," observed Scully. "Good word, one of your 
own?"

"He wants your body, Scully."

She wanted to laugh and found that she couldn't. "You're a 
red-blooded man, Mulder," she said instead. "What do you 
want?" Damn, was that a tremor in her voice?

He stepped close to her, backing her up against the table. "I 
want you for your mind."

"Ha!"

"I don't want you to get hurt."

She sighed softly. "Mulder, Bryan is part of my personal life. 
*You* are part of my professional one. The two are separate 
and never the twain shall meet. Understand?"

He nodded reluctantly.

Personal feelings have no place in a professional relationship. 
It was a nice theory. Now if only she could convince her 
heart.

***



"Faeries" by The Pen and the Brain: Part 4 of many. For disclaimer see part 1
***
Hayle, Cornwall.

Christina Reeves stepped out of the school doors into the 
chilly autumn air. Swept along by the throng of school 
children she was nudged towards the car park where a crowd 
of anxious parents waited to whisk their sons and daughters 
to home and safety.

Christina looked for her father's red mini with little hope. 
*Chrissie, Daddy may be a little late home from work tonight, 
but I want you to head straight home, no dilly dallying in the 
woods, do you hear me? I'll bring something special home for 
tea.*

Daddy always seemed to be late home from work these days.

Christina felt a slim, ungloved hand fall on her shoulder and 
she looked up into the pale face of Rosemary Lomas. Since 
the death of her younger son Joshua, Mrs Lomas hadn't let 
the elder out of her sight - Andrew Lomas stood behind his 
mother, his sad, pinched little face hidden in the folds of her 
woollen overcoat.

Rosemary Lomas looked down at Christina with eyes that 
always looked like they were on the verge of tears. "Sweetie, 
is Dad coming to pick you up?" she asked gently. "Do you 
need a ride home?"

Christina felt the warmth of Mrs Lomas' hand as it lay 
against her blue blazer. It was white and long fingered, like 
that hand of a porcelain doll.

"No thankyou, Mrs Lomas," she said politely, without 
offering an excuse.

Rosemary paused for a moment, wondering if she should 
press the child to let her drive her home. Then Andrew 
tugged on her coat.

"Mum, I want to go home."

Rosemary nodded, squeezed Christina's shoulder briefly and 
left, acutely aware of the pitying glances she received from 
the other parents as she moved past them. It was the same 
look she had given Margaret Quinlan when Janet turned up 
dead.

As Christina walked home she enjoyed the woods that skirted 
the edge of town. Before the tragedies that had racked the 
town, she had played in the dappled shadows with Hannah 
Winslow and Janet Quinlan. Janet was dead now, and 
Hannah's father wouldn't let her out of the house, even for 
school. But Christina sometimes saw Hannah's mother, Kate 
wandering through the woods, seemingly apart from the rest 
of the world in that queer way of hers. She was nearly always 
barefoot, with he shoes swinging loosely from her fingertips.

Generally people steered away from Kate Winslow, but 
Christina thought that she was wonderful and mysterious. She 
rarely spoke, but when she did it was in a musical, breathy 
voice that Christina had once tried to emulate. When Kate 
Winslow spoke in her husky voice, people listened. When 
Christina tried it all she received was a visit to Doctor 
Edward and a serious talk about Hyper - Hyper... Hyper 
something. Pretending she was sick when she wasn't.

As she picked her way carefully along the unpaved path that 
ran alongside the woods Christina thought that she saw a 
flash of blue between the trees. She stopped.

"Mrs Winslow?" she called hopefully. The only reply was the 
caw of a solitary bird, high in the boughs of a tree.

Then Christina stepped off the path and into the shadows of 
the trees.

The bird stopped singing and a heavy blanket of silence fell 
over the woods, stilling the wind in the trees and dimming 
the rustle of damp leaves under Christina's feet.

"Mrs Winslow?" Even her voice seemed distant, like someone 
else was calling from further into the woods.

Christina took another step into the forest.

The brisk whirring sound that flashed past Christina's right 
ear startled her and she spun around catching the flash of blue 
out of the corner of her eye.

*Faerie*, thought Christina and grinned. What would 
Bethany have said? *Christina, don't be such a baby - there's 
no such thing as faeries.*

*I could catch one*, thought Christina and pulled the lunch 
box out of her satchel.

When she straightened, her head spun and darkness clouded 
the edge of her vision. The whirring sound grew until it was 
deafening and Christina clapped her hands over her ears. 
When she opened her eyes the blue light hurt and she stepped 
back and tripped over a fallen log.

She fell, but didn't hit the ground.

***

"I hate long flights," sighed Scully. She turned in her seat 
and peered out of the window at the blanket of clouds beneath 
the plane.

Mulder touched her hand, "Three hours are up-"
"There's only eight to go," continued Scully. "And I'm too 
wound up to nap yet." She turned to face him, a shadow 
of a smile on her lips.

Mulder squeezed her fingers for a moment, then let go and 
leaning over his lumpy carry-on bag started rustling around 
in it.

"Mulder, we've already been through the file twice since we 
boarded. I doubt that we'll be able to make head nor tail of it 
until we meet Inspector Stephens." She dropped her head 
back against the headrest and sighed again. "When does our 
flight come in, anyway?"

"One o'clock, A.M. Their time," replied Mulder absently into 
his bag.

"Oh, good," murmured Scully. She paused and looked down 
at her partner. "Mulder, what are you looking for?"

He didn't reply, but after a moment more of distracted cursing 
he let out a muffled cry of triumph and sat up, a paperback 
novel in his hand. He handed it to her, "I brought you this to 
read."

She stared at him, "A book? One of yours?"

He shook his head. "No, for you. I saw some on your 
bookshelves."

She held his gaze for a moment longer, before lowering it to 
the book in her hands. It was an Elizabeth George murder 
mystery. The newest one. She hadn't even been aware it had 
been released yet. Her eyebrows shot up and she looked up 
into Mulder's eyes.

"It's the most recent one," he said casually.

Scully smiled. "It's very well thumbed through," she said 
pointedly, fingering the crinkled spine.

He grinned lopsidedly. "I found it intriguing. Maybe you can 
fill me in on Lynley's persona, later."

"He's very damaged, psychologically speaking," said Scully.

"So are we all," responded Mulder without a smile, 
"psychologically speaking."

Scully patted his arm and opened the book, settling down to 
read.

***

Digging his hand through tousled blond curls, Alec Stephens 
glanced out the window of his car at the green countryside 
rolling past.

"Another one? Are you sure?" he directed his voice towards 
the car phone and heard the hollow emotionless tone to it.

"Yes, sir," came the reply. "Christina Reeves. We dredged the 
lake this morning and her father identified her body. The 
town is up in arms about it."

"Damn," muttered Stephens.

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

"Nothing. Look, I'm heading off to London to meet an old 
friend, Fox Mulder from the FBI in America. I'll bring him 
and his partner straight back here, if you can keep everyone 
calm until then..."

"I can try..." the reply was doubtful and Stephens cursed 
under his breath.

"Angus, look, it's the best that I can do at this point. All 
right?" Stephens rang off without waiting for the response 
and glanced at his watch.

An eleven hour flight from Washington to Heathrow with the 
time differences and the Jet Lag to deal with was enough. 
Being forced to drive all the way back to Hayle in the same 
day without even a night to recuperate was *not* going to 
make Fox a happy man.

Stephens could only hope that his partner was more tolerant.

***


"Faeries" By the Pen and the Brain. Part 5 of many. For disclaimer see part one.
***

Waking from a monotony induced nap, Mulder found the 
comfortable weight of Scully's head resting against his 
shoulder. At first he thought that she was leaning over, 
perhaps looking for something, but after a moment he 
realised that she was asleep, the book hanging loosely from 
limp fingers.

Gently working his arm around her shoulders he retrieved the 
book and marked her page before setting it aside. Then he 
wrapped his discarded jacket around her. Not because it was 
particularly cold, but because it was one of those inane, 
intimate gestures he wasn't allowed to display when she was 
awake.

He surreptitiously glanced around to see if anyone was 
watching them and wondered what they would see if they 
were. FBI agents on assignment? Probably not. Friends? 
Maybe. Lovers? The thought caused a curious feeling in the 
pit of his stomach. Did they look like lovers? Her small form 
wrapped in his jacket, red head resting against him in total 
submission and total trust. Him watching her silently, with an 
expression that he realised was probably part protectiveness 
as he tightened his arm around her and brought her closer. He 
realised that they probably *did* look like lovers, but the 
thought didn't amuse him nearly as much as it usually would.

The flight attendant who was approaching was at loath to 
disturb them, but she had a job to do. She plastered the 
customary smile on her face and touched the dark man's 
shoulder.

Mulder jumped when she spoke and turned his face towards 
her.

"Would you like to wake your wife, sir? We're about to serve 
dinner."

"I'm awake," came a muffled face from his shoulder.

Mulder froze.

The flight attendant leaned a little further over him. "Ma'am, 
we're about to  serve dinner."

Scully lifted her head from Mulder's shoulder. 'Dinner?" She 
titled her head towards him. "How long have I been asleep? 
What's the time?" She tugged on her sleeve and glanced at 
her wristwatch. "It's three P.M."

"It's eight o'clock P.M. in London," the flight attendant 
briskly announced with a bright smile.

Scully groaned and struggled with her watch for a moment 
before leaning once more against Mulder and flinging out her 
arm. "Fix my clock," she murmured past a yawn.

He caught her hand and brought it down from his face, 
randomly pressing buttons until the numbers on the display 
began to change.

"What's for dinner?" he asked the flight attendant. 
"Sandwiches?" he suggested hopefully.

"Roast beef," replied the flight attendant.

"Sandwiches?" he repeated, more clearly.

"Roast beef," the flight attendant said adamantly.

"Roast beef sandwiches?"

"Roast beef." She relented a little, "And three kinds of 
potatoes." She gave him a bright smile and left.

Scully saw his deflated look and gave a little chuckle as she 
ran her fingers through her hair, trying to restore order to the 
coppery locks.

"I'm just going to freshen up," she said.

Mulder watched her. Was she flustered?

"Sure," he said carefully.

She started to move past him, brushing by his knees at a 
precarious angle, and his hands went automatically to her hips 
to steady her.

She froze at the contact and risked a glance down at him. He 
met her gaze with eyes deep enough to drown in and for a 
moment his fingers tightened around her waist.

Scully found her breath. "Move," she said briskly. "I can't get 
out without falling into your lap."

He grinned and stepped into the narrow aisle, but his way was 
blocked by the meals trolley so instead of stepping away he 
had to press himself awkwardly against the opposite row of 
chairs and hope that she wouldn't brush too close to him.

Scully glared half-heartedly at him as he stood there. Then, 
with a resigned sigh she stepped into the aisle and debated on 
the best exit route. She sucked in a breath and lifted her arms 
a little in an unconscious, unsuccessful attempt to make herself 
flatter.

Muttering impolite and no doubt anatomically unsound 
suggestions concerning aircraft designers and jumbo jets she 
favoured Mulder with another black look before decorously 
dropping her eyes to the floor.

Mulder caught the comment about aisles matching IQ's and 
began to laugh. A few startled passengers glanced up at him, 
but he didn't notice.

Scully began to squeeze past him in the narrow space and his 
breath caught in his throat. Standing that close, he couldn't 
help but notice the light fragrance of her hair, the softness of 
her body pressed against his. His hand moved to her waist, 
halting her progress and she looked up, her arms falling to 
her sides, trapping his hand.

He saw the slight shadows marring the creamy skin under her 
endless blue eyes, felt the rise and fall of her breaths against 
his chest, heard her breath catch as he tightened his grasp on 
her waist and pulled her impossibly closer. Or did he just 
imagine that? Her lips parted slightly around a silent question 
and she lifted an eyebrow quizzically.

"Mulder?"

"Don't be long." He felt like a fool as he released her.

She stared at him for a moment, then gathered her wits and 
moved away.

"Oh God," muttered Mulder, he fell back into this seat and 
closed his eyes. When he opened them again he realised that 
several pairs of eyes were fastened on him. Curious, amused 
and knowledgeable eyes.

"Oh God," he muttered again.

It was going to be a long five hours.

***


"Faeries" - By the Pen and the Brain.
Part 6.

Disclaimer: Didn't I promise you more? Well here I go again. 
Faeries is a story that takes place mainly in Hayle, Cornwall. 
England. Modern day, not Fantasy World. At the moment it's 
a pretty safe PG, though I wouldn't be giving it to anyone 
under twelve. It will get heavier in the rating department, but 
we will give you due warning. It has romance. We are 
'shippers and proud of it.

Real Disclaimer: Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, and anyone else 
that sounds remotely familiar do not belong to us. They 
belong to CC and FOX and 1013. Alec is ours. Bryan is ours. 
Christina and Hannah and The Winslow family are ours. You 
can use them if you want... but please give us notice, they're a 
bit shy.

And now, on with the show.

Faeries- Part 6
By The Pen and The Brain. ===>, {*}
ThePen@Hotmail.com


***

The Heathrow Airport was practically deserted when the 
flight from Washington came in.

Mulder sat in one of the multitude of vinyl chairs with his 
head in his hands and his suitcase on the floor under his feet.

He looked up to see Scully approaching and he gave her a 
tired grin.

"Any sign of Inspector Stephens?" she asked him doubtfully.

He shook his head. "He'll be here, Scully. He's probably just 
stuck in traffic."

"At one-thirty in the morning," said Scully with a raised 
eyebrow..

He sighed. "Did you bring sustenance?" She produced two 
museli bars and he stared at them incredulously. "What the 
hell are those?"

"Sustenance."

"Where's the chocolate?"

She smiled. "Sold out. I bought you a carob bar instead - 
Healthy alternative." She tossed it into his lap and fell into 
the seat beside him.

He groaned, "Healthy alternative to chocolate? You trying to 
kill me?"

"You trying to thank me?" she shot back.

He smiled crookedly at her. "Thankyou."

She nodded and flopped over, propping her head wearily on 
her hands and closing her eyes. She felt the touch of his 
fingers on the back of her neck and barely supressed a shiver.

The warm skin under Mulder's fingertips was smooth and he 
let his caress trail gently across her hairline. Tracing his 
intials lazily on the nape of her neck.

Looking up he saw Alec approaching with a wide, lascivious 
grin on his face. When he saw them he gave Mulder a pointed 
look and raised his eyebrows suggestively at Scully's limp 
figure.

Mulder let his hand linger on Scully's neck as Alec came up 
to them.

"Since when did the FBI subsidise trips for significant others, 
Fox?" asked Stephens by way of greeting.

Mulder winced, feeling Scully stiffen and straighten. But 
Stephens continued.

"So, where's your partner. You ditch him?" He stopped 
suddenly when he met Scully's icy blue gaze, momentarily 
taken aback by the intensity. "Wow."

Scully stood up abruptly. "Excuse me." As she left Mulder 
observed the tautness in her small frame. He grimaced.

"Pretty," said Alec. "Where's your partner?"

"That *was* my partner," said Mulder, rising. "Agent Dana 
Scully."

Alec's eyes widened. "You never told me she was a woman!" 
he protested.

"It never occured to me you'd think otherwise," responded 
Mulder.

"God, I'm sorry. Will she be alright?" Stephens looked 
honestly contrite, his pale blue eyes more than a little 
concerned.

"Yeah, she just needs some time to cool off."

Stephens looked to the door through which Scully had exited. 
"What a stunning little red-head though, however did you 
land her?"

Mulder groaned, "Alec..."

"Are you sleeping with her yet?"

"Jesus, Alec!" Mulder bent down and thrust his suitcase at his 
friend, grabbing Scully's himself. "Why are you so late, 
anyway?"

"Roadworks" he replied disdainfully.

Mulder nodded in understanding and they began to walk to 
the foyer.

Scully was sitting in one of the chairs and she stood when 
they went up to her, taking her suitcase from Mulder when he 
reluctantly relenquished it.

"Agent Scully," Stephens was all business now.

Scully raised an eyebrow, but was too tired to be properly 
disdainful.

"I'd like to apologise for my earlier behaviour," he said. 'I 
made a monumental error in judgement, I was presumptous, 
unproffessional-"

"Chauvanistic," supplied Scully.

Mulder grinned.

Stephens extended his hand with a charming smile. "How do 
you do? I'm Detective Inspector Alec Stephens and I'm very 
pleased to meet you, Agent Scully." 

Scully managed to hide her smile.

"Well, that wasn't too difficult," murmured Stephens to 
Mulder as they made their way to the car.

Mulder looked at him with mild disgust, "Another 
assumption, Taffy. She hasn't forgiven you yet. She has you 
on probabtion."

"You seem familiar with her routine, Fox. 'Fess up, Old 
Chum, are you two hot and heavy?"

Mulder watched Scully walking some distance before them. 
"Is this in any way relevant to the case, Alec?"

Scully turned to them, immediately alert to her partner's tone 
of voice. "Mulder?"

"This is it," said Alec abruptly as they reached a dark blue 
car. He took his keys from his pocket and unlocked the boot, 
swinging Mulder's suitcase inside.

Mulder looked down at his partner. She looked pale and 
washed out, she swaying slightly on her feet. He bent down a 
little. "Are you okay?" he asked her gently.

She looked up at him. "I'm fine, Mulder," she replied quietly 
and tried to take a small step away from him. "Oh!"

He reached for her quickly, but she grasped the car door and 
waved him off.

"I'm fine. Just a little wobbly."

Mulder opened the car door for her and helped her in. "Do 
you want me to sit with you?" he asked her, already sliding in 
next to her.

She shook her head carefully, "I'm just going to lie down."

He removed his coat and wrapped ti around her.

Alec gave him a questioning look when he fastened his 
seatbelt.

Mulder glanced back on her, "She's okay, she just needs to 
get over Jet Lag."

"How are you doing?"

"I'm too tired to think," replied Mulder with a slight smile.

"You should probably sleep in the car, we'll be in Hayle by 
half-past seven and I suppose you'll want to get straight to 
work."

"We'll want to speak to Christina Reeves' father."

"He works in London, so you won't be able to reach him until 
evening," said Alec. "I've set up an interview with Leslie 
Mackensie. She's the school teacher."

"The *teacher*, Alec?" asked Mulder.

"No one knows *all* of the children better," Stephens 
defended himself.

"Not exactly proper procedure though, is it, Alec?"

Stephens flashed Mulder a brief grin. "I don't seem to recall 
that you were ever conventional, Fox. Don't start now."

***



Faeries- Part 7 by The Pen and The Brain.
For disclaimer see part 1 and 6.

***

When they reached Andover Alec stopped at a Little Chef 
where warm light was spilling through the windows into the 
practically deserted carpark.

Mulder looked at his wristwatch, 5:05 am. "Just in time for 
fresh pastries," he said. "Scully's gonna love this."

"Go ahead and wake her up," said Alec, hopping out of the 
car. "I'll go in and order us some breakfast."

She was curled up in the spacious backseat, snuggled warmly 
with his jacket pulled up under her chin. Mulder thought that 
she looked like a chils when he leant over her. All flushed 
cheeks and tousled curls.

He touched her shoulder and then her face. "Scully?"

She shifted. A slight frown passing over her forehead.

He let his hand linger on her cheek as he leant closer, 
"Dana?"

"Possibly," came the murmured reply. She didn't open her 
eyes, but she did turn her face towards his voice.

Mulder found himself inches from her lips and a wave of pure 
desire washed over him, almost drowning him, pulling him 
inexorably closer until he could feel her warm breath on his 
cheek.

Her eyes suddenly opened, startling him, he jumped back, 
only just managing not to catch his head on the car roof.

Still lying down, Scully looked at him. "Where are we?"

Mulder looked momentarily confused, prompting her to say, 
"You *do* know where we are?"

"Andover," he said.

"Not Corwall."

"Not quite. Kent."

She sat up, slowly, holding her head carefully. "Why are we 
in Kent?"

Mulder grinned at her, and held out a hand to help her out of 
the car. "Kent has pastries. We're stopping for breakfast."

She looked warily at the Little Chef. "Does it have coffee?" 
she asked him. "I'm not getting out unless it has coffee."

"I'm sure it has coffee," he said smiling, I'll bring you out 
some."

"No. No," she shook her head and immediatley regretted it. 
"I'm coming in." She stood up carefully, her eyes fastened on 
the ground with a sort of glazed fascination as she attempted 
to get her balance.

He reached for her hesitantly, still reeling from his desire a 
moment ago. "Are you okay?"

She grasped his arm as she left the stability of the car. "I will 
be."

She said it so fiercly that Mulder grinned, murmuring. "Or 
suffer the consequences," momentarily amused out of his 
discomforture.

She smiled sarcastically at him and let go, taking one shaky 
step. He reached for her again and she waved him away with 
a "Back off". Another few steps and her legs began to fold.

Mulder lunged for her and caught her about the waist as she 
went down. Her eyes closed and she sagged against his chest, 
her face blanched white. He startde to slide his arm under her 
knees, but she opened her eyes and focused them on his face. 
"I can walk, Mulder."

Reluctantly he let go. "Can't blame a guy for trying," he said 
with a soft laugh.

She returned the smile and he felt his breath catch again. 
Lifting a hand he tugged on one titian curl, "This is very 
cute," he said.

She smoothed her hands hastily over her hair, "Quiet, and 
help me inside."

He waited.

"Please."

Alec was waiting for them indoors, sitting at a chequered 
table by the wall. Mulder hot Scully seated and went to order 
for the both of them.

"So," said Alec, breaking the silence.

Scully looked at him, "So."

"Are you feeling allright?" his voice was hesitant.

"I'm feling better."

"Look, Agent Scully. I'm really terribly sorry-"

She dismissed the apology with a smile. "It's either Scully, or 
Dana," she said.

"Dana." His grinned disarmingly, running a hand through his 
pale blond hair, "God, I felt like such a fool when Fox told 
me that you, well-"

She shrugged, her gaze moving back to Mulder.

"So how long have you been working with him??" Alec said, 
following her line of sight.

"Several years, now," said Scully.

"That long?" said Alec. "My God, how do you put up with 
him? He had a nickname at the University. Foxy Loxy."

Scully choked back a laugh, "Because?"

"'The sky is falling, the sky is falling!'" grinned Alec. "That, 
and his prowess with 'chicks'." he chicked then stopped 
abruptly. "Jesus, I'm sorry. I just get less and less tactful, 
don't I?"

Scully shook her head. "That's okay. I've seen his attraction 
in full-force."

Alec raised his eyebrows, "Really?" maybe he *hadn't* been 
mistaken when he had first seen them. Fox's caresses hadn't 
*looked* like the touches of a friend and partner.

"Early into a our partnership Phoebe Green paid us a visit," 
she said, quickly changing the subject to safer ground. "Do 
you know her?"

"Oh, yes," said Alec with a knowing smile. "Phenomenal 
Phoebe. He fell for her in a big way, poor man. We *did* 
warn him - Phoebe was notorious - Anyway, you know what 
Mulder's like, once her sets his eye on something, nothing 
will stop in the way of him getting what he wants. Well, he 
got Phoebe, for a wjile. And then he got burnt."

"What got burnt?" Aked Mulder, coming up to the table, two 
mugs in hand. He sat down beside Scully and pushed a mug 
into her hands. "Coffee."

She sniffed his mug and wrinkled her nose. "What on earth 
have you got?"

He grinned. "Lapsang Souchong."

Scully rolled her eyes, "Did you decide that you liked 
Lapsang before or after you read my book?"

He gave her an enigmatic look and instead of replying, took a 
sip. With a grimace and a splutter, he set the mug aside. 
"Helen was right," he told Scully, "It *does* taste like dirty 
socks."

"Speaking from experience, of course," said Scully, pushing
her mug towards him.

He took a sip and thanked her with his eyes over the rim of 
the cup. "Of course."

"You'd be suprised what initiation rituals bored English 
Schoolboys can come up with," supplied Alec. "Did Fox tell 
you how I got *my* nickname?"

Mulder blanched, "Not over breakfast, Taffy."

Scully laughed, "Can't stomache it Foxy Loxy?"

Mulder glared at his friend. "Thankyou, Alec."

Scully yawned, then reached into her pockets and pulled out a 
clip, twisting her thick hair into a french roll she pinned it in 
place and sighed. "I'm never going to get my body clock back 
to normal."

Mulder's eyes fastened on the pale length of her neck, his 
fingers and lips tingling to - with a frown he forced the 
thought back into the depths of his subconcious and turned 
his gaze on Alec. Alec's eyes were on Scully.

"Are you feeling better?" Mulder's question was directed to 
his partner and she turned to him.

"I'm feeling considerably better, but you don't look so well," 
she said. She reached her hand out and touched his brow. 
"You need some sleep." She took her mug back from him. 
"No more coffee, I need you to be able to function later 
today."

"How long will you be in England?" queried Alec.

Mulder gave hima warning look. "No sight-seeing, Alec."

"Not even Gretna Green? Dana shouldn't miss that."

As uncharacteristic as it was, Mulder coloured, the blood 
rushing to his face as Scully stared, astonished, at him.

Alec burst out laughing at Mulder's expression and annoyed, 
Scully turned on him.

"What's in Gretna Green?"

"Shut up, Alec," Mulder managed to growl.

Alec was still chuckling when they returned to the car.

Scully pushed Mulder into the back and ordered him to lie 
down, which he did.

He realised that he must have been more tired than he had 
thought when his eyes closed the moment his head hit his 
makeshift pillow. He heard Scully say something to Alec, but 
was too tired to concentrate on what it was. It didn't take long 
for him to fall asleep, lulled by the quiet conversation and the 
movement of the car.

Scully turned in her sea6t and sighed with relief, "He's 
alseep."

Alec looked suprised. "He is?" He glanced in the rear-view 
mirror. "So he is. You must be a good influence on him, 
Dana. He never used to sleep at school."

"He doesn't sleep at home. Much."

The  look on her face interested Alec. "Nevertheless, you're 
good for him. He's healing." He waited a tactful moment 
before continuing. "What exactly is the status of your 
relationship with him? Obviously you're close. But how 
close?"

She closed her eyes and rested her head against the seat. "I 
trust him with my life. He's my closest friend."

"Tell me about the two of you."

Scully narrowed her eyes and ganced back at Mulder. "I have 
a better idea. Tell me about this case."

"What do you want to know?"

"Are there any links between the victims?"

"No. All but Henry Baxter went to the local school, that's the 
only link that we have, aside from the manner of death and 
where they were found."

"The lake," said Scully. "Is there any significane in the lake? 
Local folklore?"

"Local folklore?" repeated Stephens. "Oh yes, I can tell that 
you've been working with Mulder."

"Mulder has nothing to do with it," said Scully a little 
annoyed. "People in small towns are often superstitious, a 
local legend would be a perfect set up for-"

"All right," Alec cut in with a smile. "You win. I'll look into 
the Local Folklore when we get get in. If Mulder doesn't beat 
me to it."

"What about cause of death?" asked Scully.

"Drowning. No doubt about it," Alec said. "No drugs or 
anything. In fact, if I didn't know better, I'd say they left their 
houses, walked barfoot through the woods to the lake and 
kept going until they drowned."

Scully frowned. "What makes you say that?"

"Even if you could get a boat through the woods, it would 
have left a trace. We found none. Peter Briggs was found in 
the middle of the lake."

"Peter Briggs was seven years old," Scully reminded him. 
"He could've swam out that far, and was too tired to make the 
return journey."

Stephens shook his head. "Not Peter Briggs. He wouldn't go 
near water," seeing her frustrated look he relented. "You'll 
understand when you meet his parents."

***

Mulder woke up with a start when Alec shook his shoulder, 
he rubbed his eyes and sat up, looking to Scully who was 
sitting on a stone step nearby. "Are we here yet?" he asked 
stupidly, getting out of the car.

Moving forward, Svully took his arm. "Alec and I have 
already checked in and picked up the keys. Now there's a 
warm room and a soft bed for you upstairs." She bagan to 
coax him towards the large wooden double doors. "Your bags 
are upstairs too. We have a double suite."

Mulder's head snapped towards her. "A double suite?" he 
repeated incredulously.

"Sure," she said. "Two bedrooms, a main room and a 
bathroom.I figured it would be more convenient than two 
singles." She paused. "Is that a problem?"

"No!" he was quick to say. "I just thought: 'double suite'..." 
He left the rest up to her imagination and she laughed as they 
started up the stairs.

"You should be so lucky."

He turned aroung groggily. "Where's Alec."

"Downstairs."

"No," he shook his head. "His room."

She pointed to a door across the landing. "There. We're over 
here." She tugged him towards another door and produced 
two keys. "Here." She handed him one and opened the door 
into a room decorated in comfortable warm tones. Scully 
pointed to the four doors. "Cupboard, your room, bathroom, 
my room."

He nodded without taking it in and started to fall into a seat.

Scully pulled him up and nudged him towards the bedrooms. 
He swerved to the right hand door and she said: "My room."

He nodded and stumbled through the other door.

***


Faeries - By The Pen and The Brain. Part 8. For disclaimer, see part 1.

***
He didn't feel particularly revived when she woke him, three
hours later, but at least the ground was behaving itself again 
and the light outside wasn't unbearable once he got his 
sunglasses on.

Scully looked up at him fondly. "You look like you have a 
hangover," she told him, outside the doors of the school. 
"Lose the glasses. You'll scare the kids."

"Me?" he grinned, but she was already opening the door into 
the classroom.

About thirty-five children waiting for them inside, sitting 
around the feet of pale waif-like woman in a grey skirt and 
blouse.

She looked up when they entered and and smiled, exposing 
small white teeth. Standing up she extended a thin, 
transparent hand. "Children, we have some visitors. Agents 
Mulder and Scully."

Thirty-five curious pairs of eyes swiveled and fastened on 
them.

Mulder shifted uncomfortably. "Hi."

Thirty-five mouths dropped open.

"You talk strange," said one boy, clambering up and standing 
next to Mulder.

It was apparently an unspoken cue of some kind, because 
once the first child rose the others converged on them as well, 
touching and prodding. Looking up at him with wide eyes 
and asking questions with chirpy voices.

"Mister, are you a policeman?" asked one.

"Kind of," said Mulder.

"Where are you from?"

"Washington," said Mulder.

"Where's that?"

"America."

"D'you have a gun?"

"Yes."

"Can I see it."

"Sorry. No."

Scully smiled at him and patted his arm. "I'll talk to the 
teacher, if you want to keep them occupied," she murmured.

He stared at her, appalled. "Don't leave me alone with them," 
he pleaded.

She nodded encouragingly and went to greet the school 
teacher.

"Do you think you should leave your partner alone with 
them?" Asked Leslie Mackensie a little worridly. 

"He'll be fine," said Scully. "He has a way with kids. A 
certain charm."

Mulder managed to make it to one of the miniscule chairs, 
and there he commited the first cardinal mistake in the book 
of entertaining young children. He folded his lanky body into 
it. Immediately there were five and an optomistic half 
children in his lap and sitting on his feet. They were suddenly 
silent and Mulder heard Leslie lead Scully to the other side of 
the room. A quiet conversation began.

"America's a long, long way away, isn't it?" a small boy 
asked Mulder.

"Yes, it is," replied Mulder.

"Why're you here?"

Mulder swallowed. "Well, a lot of people in your class have 
been going missing, and we're here to stop whoever it is from
 taking any of you."

"What's your name?" This from a curly haired girl squatting 
by his left knee.

"Agent Mulder," said Mulder.

The girl laughed. "That's funny. What's your *real* name?"

"That is my real name."

"No. What's your *real* name? Mine's Lucy."

"My first name is Fox," said Mulder a little stiffly.

"Foxy Loxy!" The delighted cries reached Scully and she 
looked up from her notepad and smiled at him, before turning 
her attention back to Leslie Mackensie.

"Four of my students," Leslie was murmuring bewilderedly. 
"Janet, Joshua, Peter and now Christina. Agent Scully, can 
you even imagine what I'm going through?"

Scully shook her head mutely.

"I keep thinking was there something I could have done to 
prevent this? Driven them home? Urged them to be more 
careful? Who will be next? I'm scared for my pupils, Agent 
Scully."

"I'm sorry," said Scully. Somehow it didn't feel enough.

"So am I. So is everyone, but it's not stopping whatever sick 
person is doing this."

"Have you seen anyone hanging around the school?"

"No."

"Is there any link you can think of between these children?"

"I'm sorry. No."

"Is that your girlfriend?" Mulder turned to see where the 
stubby finger was pointing.

"No. That's my partner."

A girl with pigtails wrinkled her nose. "My mum says that's 
the same thing."

"She's pretty. What's her name?"

"Agent Scully," said Mulder promptly.

There was a world weary sigh, "No. What's her *real* 
name?"

*Of course* "Dana."

Across the room Scully looked up and gave him a questioning 
look.

*I'm fine* he mouthed.

"I have parents who have asked to stay with their children 
during classes, they drive them here, pick them up in the 
afternoons from my doors. These people only live five 
minutes walk away. The parents... My God, Agent Scully. 
You look into their eyes... there's this emptiness..." Her voice 
choked as her face crumpled with grief.

Scully reached into her handbag a produced a tissue.

"I'm sorry," said Leslie.

Scully touched her arm, concern clouding her eyes. "Don't 
be, it's all right. Take as much time as you need."

Mulder wanted to go to Scully, but the kids were pulling him 
towards what appeared to be a wet area on the other side of 
the room. His shoes squeaked on the linoneum as they pulled 
him to a display wall of juvenile artwork. The usual stuff. 
Blue skies, yellow sun, disproportionate stick characters in 
bright crayon colours.

"That's Mine." "Mine!" "I did that one!" A forest of excited 
fingers, round faces turned upwards, half moon smiles. 
Mulder felt suddenly woozy and turned for Scully, but she 
wasn't watching him.

He turned back to the wall and stopped as a picture caught his 
eye.

Painted in dark hues of purple, green, blue and balck, the 
picture was difficult to distinguish, the colours shifting in the 
harsh fluroescent light.

Was that a half face hidden in the depths of the picture? 
wondered Mulder. Wide, luminescent eyes, half parted lips, 
face framed by masses of inky hair. Or was it a forest scene? 
A shadowy, veiled figure flitting between the trees.

"Did your teacher do this one?"

"No. Hannah did," came the reply.

Mulder looked down at them all. "Who's Hannah?"

They looked at each other. "She's not allowed to come to 
school any more."

"Says who?" asked Mulder.

"Says her mum," said Lucy. "She's weird."

"Hannah?"

"Her mum."

"Mulder?" He heard Scully come up beside him and stand by 
his elbow.

Across the room Leslie clapped her hands, attracting the 
children's attention.

"All right. Break time."

He wathed them leave, excitedly tumbling towrads the door 
and there was a tug on his suit jacket. He looked down at the 
small pinched face of a boy about five years old.

"Excuse me sir. Are you going to stay here a while?"

Mulder's brow furrowed. The boy looked familiar. "Sure, 
Agent Scully and I will be in Hayle for a little while."

"Good." The boy's tone of voice was fierce.

"What is your name?" Scully asked him as he began to leave.

The boy looked back over his shoulder. "Andrew Lomas," 
and he was gone.

"Joshua Lomas' brother," said Mulder tiredly. He looked 
down at his feet and founght back the dpression that 
threatened to engulf him.

"You're very good with kids," said Scully. "You're going to 
make a great dad."

He looked up at her with a faint smile. "You offering, 
Scully?"

She almsot laughed, but something in his eyes stopped her. 
Instead she shrugged, feigning mild amusement. "You 
asking?"

He did laugh for a moment before putting a hand on her back, 
steering her towards the door. "Feed me and I might."

"There's an Italian Resturauant in the Town," said Leslie, 
meeting them at the door.

Scully looked interested. "*Good* Italian?"

Mulder groaned. "For *lunch* Scully?"

Leslie smiled. "Good enough - maybe I can treat you to 
dinner tonight, Agent Mulder."

Scully narrowed her eyes at the woman and waited for his 
reply.

"Uh," he glanced towards Scully as if for support. She just 
looked at him, eyebrows slightly raised. "I'll probably just be 
falling into bed tonight," he said ruefully.

"Oh," Leslie glanced at Scully ans stepped back, opening the 
door for them. "Well, maybe some other time."

Scully's lips formed what Mulder had learnt to recognise as 
her dangerous smile. "We won't be in Hayle for long. But I'm 
sure we can make the time." She took his arm and steered 
him towards the car.

Mulder gave a little chuckle as he belted himself in.

Scully cocked her head and looked at him."What?"

"You treated Leslie Mackensie the way I treated Bryan. Look 
how well I'm taking it."

She narrowed her eyes and glowered at him, disliking the 
comparison. "Shut up and drive," she told him.

"You want to risk the Italian Resturaunt?"

She raised her eyebrows, mocking him. "For *lunch*, 
Mulder?"

"There's a cafe on the main street," he smiled. "You ever had 
cornish pasties in Corwall, Scully?"

***

End of part 8.


Faeries: Part 9
By the Pen and the Brain.
PG - for now.

What has happened previously...
In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. This latter 
place is where Faeries is taking place. Earth. England. Cornwall. Hayle.
If you're wondering why, then possibly you should go to part one. If
you *know* why - Welcome back!

Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, yadda, yadda, yadda. If you don't know
who these characters belong to, you probably don't watch the show.
And if you don't watch the show this story's not going to make
all that much sense to you.
Alec belongs to us. Hannah belongs to us. Hayle exists in the real
world, but this version belongs to us. You're welcome to them all,
but let us know, they're a little shy.
And now. On with the show.

***
With Mulder browsing through the newsagent next door, Scully
took a moment to relax in a charming second-hand bookshop. 
Everything was so...*quaint*.  She felt like she had been
thrust back in time.  The little place in which they had had
lunch had sparkling windows, gingham curtains and
table-cloths, the hotel was old and delightfully traditional
and the bookshop was everything a bookshop should be.  Dark,
silent, private, smelling the special smell of old books. 
Scully felt completely at home. 

She was tucked into one of the corners of the bookshop,
reading a book entitled "Myths and Legends of Cornwall,"
when Mulder entered.  He greeted the boisterous woman at the
counter, and she immediately struck up a conversation. 

Scully grinned and stayed where she was, hidden by the tall
shelves, enjoying the sound of his voice next the broad
Cornish accent. 

'Are you looking for anything in particular?', the
woman asked after a moment of conversation. 

Scully heard him laugh. 

'Do you have anything small, pale and redheaded?',
he asked her, humour evident in his voice.  Scully could
imagine his grin.  'I'm looking for my partner.'

'Dana Scully,' said the woman,'from Washington D.C.
You're Fox Mulder, her *partner*...'

'I see you've already debriefed her,' said Mulder. 

'Excuse me?' asked the woman. 

'Nothing,' he hastily said.  'Umm...'

'She's down one of the aisles,' the woman pointed
him towards the back of the shop and Scully heard him
approach.  She slipped the book she had been reading back
into the shelf and picked another at random. 

'Hey.'

She felt him touch her shoulder and then he leant around her
and pulled the book from her fingers. 

'Hmmm,' he said, reading the cover, '"Medieval
Husbandry".  Stimulating reading?'

She yanked it from his hand and shoved it back into the
shelf, unfortunately directing his attention the where
'Myths and Legends of Cornwall' was still half sticking
out. 

'Ah ha.' He plucked it off the shelf.  'Is that what
had you so engrossed that you wouldn't respond when I came
in?'

She flashed him a smile.  'Deny everything,' she quipped. 

He laughed and handed the book back to her, then began
fishing around in his trenchcoat pockets for something. 

Scully paged through the book until she found the chapter
she had been reading when when he came in.  'Hey Mulder,
listen to this-'

'A legend or a myth, Scully?' he asked distractedly,
turning his trouser pockets inside out. 

'A myth,' she answered stiffly.  '"There was once a
man-"'

'Oh good, a man,' Mulder cut in drily. 

'The man's name was Willem, and he fell in love with
one of the Daina Sidhe.  Her name was Felouen and she was a
princess in the high court of Elfenhame.  Her father forbade
her to meet with Willem because he was human-'

'Racial injustice and thwarted love,' cut in
Mulder.  'This story just keeps getting better and better.'

She shot him a look, but continued.  'They would meet by
"the lake of children" at night under the lady moon and her
children, the stars shone on the still water-"'

'Eureka!' muttered Mulder, pulling a small leather
pouch from from his jacket pocket. 

Scully looked up from the pages of the book.  'Mulder,
you're not paying attention,' she said resentfully. 

'Yeah I am,' he said, his fingers struggling with
the stiff leather thong.  'Keep going.'

'One of the stars, having grown jealous of Willem's
love for Felouen, fell to the ground at Elfenhame and told
her father of the secret rendezvous.'

'Victory.' Mulder finally opened the bag. 

'Mulder...'

'I'm listening,' he insisted.  'Hold still.'

She sighed and turned to the story again.  'Felouen's father
went to the Lake of the children and burst in on the
lovers,' She felt Mulder take another step closer and reach
around her neck.  Something silver flashed before her eyes. 
'In a rage he flung Felouen into the lake, sending the stars
spinning out of control.  When Willem went to save her,
Felouen's father cast a spell on him and changed him into a
fox, meaning to kill him.  But the fox was fast and sly, and
hid in the bushes until Felouen's father grew tired and
left.  The Willem haunted the lake of children, evermore
waiting for Felouen to rise from the depths and rejoin him.'

'Which she never did,' said Mulder softly. 

'Which she never did,' echoed Scully with a sigh. 
She put the book down and looked up at Mulder.  He was
looking down at her chest, fascinated by her breathing.  She
felt a slight weight around her neck and looking down she
saw a small pewter talisman on a dark blue ribbon.  She
looked sharply up at him, and saw that he watching her
hopefully. 

'I like it,' he said. 

'So do I,' she said, fingering the metallic charm. 
'What is it?'

'Protection,' he grinned. 

She chuckled.  'I'm Catholic, I don't believe in
protection.'

He met her gaze and managed to move closer.  'Just because
you don't acknowledge it's existence, doesn't mean it's
non-existent.'

She felt his lapels brush her.  The only thing separating
their bodies was her fist, clutching the necklace.  She
tried to take a step away and backed into the shelves. 
'Protection from what?,' she challenged breathlessly. 

'From Piskies,' he said in an intense stage
whisper. 

'Pixies,' she corrected absently, concentrating on
his dark eyes. 

'Piskies,' he said again. 

She watched his lips form the word and frowned a little. 
'This is some sort of cute childhood name, right?'

He suddenly stepped away and his voice was harsh when he
answered her.  'What do you think?' He walked off. 

'Apparently not,' murmured Scully. 

The woman at the counter told Scully he'd left the shop as
she counted out the change for the book.  Scully nodded and
thanked her, taking her brown-papered parcel and stepping
back into the street.  The late afternoon sun struggled
through a heavy cover of cloud.  A cold breeze was beginning
to pick up and it ruffled Scully's hair as she looked around
for Mulder. 

She found him sitting in the car, his head resting in his
hands, his shoulders slumped. 

'Hey.' She slid into the seat beside him and touched
his shoulder.  'You want to go back to the hotel for a
while?,' she asked him, concerned. 

He nodded, his eyes thankful, and put the car into gear. 

 ***

'I can't believe she's gone,' mumbled John Reeves into his
hands.  'I keep expecting her to open the door and come
running in.  I see all these children in the streets or on
their way home and I'm still looking for her.  Waiting for
her.' His voice broke into a stifled sob.  Scully shifted
awkwardly beside her partner and glanced quickly at him as
if for support. 

Mulder was watching Reeves with a look wavering between pity
and horror.  'It always takes a while for the shock to
pass,' he said quietly. 

Reeves' head snapped up and he glared at the younger man. 
'What the hell do you know?  You come here with your pretty
little partner and it's a company paid honeymoon to
England.  For you there is no real case.'

Mulder knew he shouldn't respond.  That the man was hurting
and didn't realize what he was saying.  But his cutting
remark had stung.  'I don't know,' he said, 'six kids dead. 
Sounds like a case to me.  Scully?'

She was giving him a look that eloquently said, *What the
hell do you think you're doing, Mulder?*

'I've heard about you two,' Reeves snarled. 
'Everyone knows about you.  Inspector Stephens called you
"paranormal investigators" and you expect me to believe
you're in England to find the monster that butchered my
child-'

'Sir,' Scully cut in, desperate to calm the man, 'I
understand that-'

'Agent Scully, are you a mother?'

She stopped, the question catching her off guard.  'I beg
your pardon?,' she asked politely. 

'Are you a parent?  No?  Then how could you possibly
understand?  How could either of you understand?'

His words stabbed at Mulder's heart, and he responded
quietly.  'I understand the hopelessness...the guilt...'

'Mulder-' Scully protested, her voice just above a
whisper. 

'The only difference was that I was there when my
sister was stolen from me.' He spoke more to Scully than to
Reeves. 

'Don't,' she pleaded with him.  'You weren't
responsible.'

'I am.' The words were spoken in tandem by the two
men.  Mulder shot John Reeves a startled look and stood up. 
'Excuse me,' he said to Scully, and then left. 

Once outside he took deep gasping breaths of air, feeling
the claustrophobic atmosphere fall from him, leaving him
open.  Vunerable. 

"It's my fault," John Reeves had said.  "I wasn't
there for her.  I can't believe she's gone."

How many times had those words echoed painfully through his
head?  How many times had he felt the same paralysing
hopelessness?  Even as he stood silently there, he felt the
emotions and memories shift within his mind. 

He'd seen something in John Reeves that was familiar,
something he'd seen in the mirror a hundred thousand times
before.  A haunted, pained look.  But the guilt that had
driven him had been fading of late.  Seeping through his
pores, as the memory of Sammantha grew dim.  He hated
himself for it.  Hated the way he could laugh, could *feel*,
could go for hours, even *days* without thinking of her. 

The child's guilt had faded to a dim half-memory.  But now,
with the recognition of John Reeves, it was replaced by the
far stronger guilt of a man.  It sank down on Mulder,
stifling him, a heavy brick wall of oppressive pain, guilt
and grief. 

He wanted to cry. 

He heard the door behind him swing open and Scully join him
on the verandah.  Even without looking around he knew it was
her.  He felt the pull of her gaze as she watched his back. 
Finally she cleared her throat. 

'Come on.  It's time to go.'

She didn't ask him if he was alright, but as she came up she
linked her arm through his and hugged it briefly.  That
moment of tight pressure was more comforting than words
could ever be.  He wanted to savour it, but a bitter part of
him made him slip his arm from her grasp and move away. 
 ***

At the edge of the woods a blue-green light throbbed,
throwing a very faint shine on the walls of a nearby house. 
Out of the group came a group of children.  Lithe, long
limbed children with translucent skin that glowed an
unearthly hue with the reflection of the inconstant. 

Their eyes were set wide apart and colored an intense green,
slanted like cats eyes, with the same oval pupil.  They had
prominent cheekbones and pointed noses set above wide,
unsmiling mouths.  If they had pointed ears, you couldn't
tell.  Their heads were covered with masses of burnished
copper hair, threaded through with leaves, small twigs and
scraps of the same cobwebby material as their tunics.  As
they left the glow of the womb of the light they moved like
insects.  Uncommonly fast, in a succession of exaggerated
jerky movements, like they were unaccustomed to being on the
ground. 

They crept up to the window of the house and peered in. 
Three figures were in the dimly lit room.  A woman, dark
haired and green-eyed moved gracefully through the room
humming to herself.  The children ignored her; she was of no
consequence, as was the man who sat, slumped over in a seat
beside the bed, apparently asleep.  They were more
interested in the in the bed.  Her head on the pillow was
turned towards the window and she had the same sharply
defined features as they, her hair the same shade of red,
but carefully combed and shining in a curtain on the
pillow.  Around her neck on a ribbon was a string of small
bells.  They jingled faintly as she breathed. 

The children frowned.  The bells would be a problem. 

'Kate...,' one of the children crooned.  The woman
looked up sharply and glanced to the window, but the
children did not worry.  She couldn't see them, nor could
she hear them. 

'Kate...come play with us...'

The woman left the room.  The children didn't notice her
abscence.  Their attention was riveted on the young girl on
the bed.  They couldn't fail this time, the queen got
angrier every time they brought a wrong child back. 

'Kate, me miss you...your mother misses you, come
play with us."

The girl began to twist restlessly in her bed, causing the
bells to sound.  The shimmering non-melody disturbed the
man, and he shifted in his chair, heavy head rising from its
resting place.  The children knew they would have to be
quick, and they put their little heads up against the
glass.  'Kate,' they said, their voices more insistent. 

And she woke. 

Sitting up on her bed the girl looked at the window
curiously.  'Da?' She turned to shake the man awake, the
bells jangling.  But before she could touch him the door
swung open and a white figure catapaulted in. 

The children shrank back from the window.  The old woman! 
The one who knew!  They slinked back into the shadows.  They
wouldn't fetch their bounty tonight. 

Eilian darted across the room, her white flannel nightgown
flapping around her skinny, bony ankles.  Sinking down on to
the bed she caught the girl in her arms and held her
tightly.  'Hannah,' she said into the cascade of red curls. 

'Grandma,' said the girl, 'they were here again.'
 ***
End of part 9 - Continued in part 10


Faeries, part 10. By The Pen and The Brain.

WARNING: Okay, the end of this gets a little steamy... sorry.
I'd give it an NC17 rating, my glasses steamed when I was writing
it, but it comparison to some things I've read it's still fairly tame.
Nevertheless, if you're easily shocked, stop when you stop feeling
comfortable.

***

It took three hours of Mulder's evasive, non-committal
comments and replies before Scully finally snapped. 

She did so over dinner, abruptly putting down her knife and
fork and moving the plate to the side so that she could lean
across the table.  'Mulder.' She waited until he looked up,
then caught and held his gaze.  'Talk to me.'

'About what?'

'John Reeves, Peter Briggs, Bethany Ashcroft,
Christina,' she said.  'How this case is affecting you.  How
you are feeling.' *There* she thought, *I can't get more
blatant than that*. 

He merely looked at her.  'I'm fine.'

'I'm not falling for it.'

He gave her a crooked smile and tried to look away, but she
wouldn't let him. 

'Mulder,' she said insistently, 'what happened this
afternoon?'

He dropped the act.  'Nothing.  I don't want to talk about
it.'

'What's happening to you?'

He shook his head and stood up.  'Scully, it's been
a long day.  Can we discuss this later?'

'NO!' She stood up and pursued him out of the dining
room.  'Mulder, *talk* to me."

He didn't stop or turn around, but continued through the bar
area to the dim foyer.  'I know you told me to remain
impartial, Scully.  But, Jesus, these are kids!  You can't
expect me not to feel anything.'

'I'm *not* telling you not to feel anything,' she
protested after him as he ascended the stairs.  'I'm telling
you not to associate yourself with it!'

He rounded on her, glaring down on her from the stairs. 
'How could I not associate myself with it, Scully?  I can't
just shut myself off-'

'Learn!,' she cried.  'For God's sake, Mulder!'

He snarled something unintelligible and spun away on his
heel, across the landing and into the suite.  When she had
caught up with him, he was sitting on his bed with his head
in his hands. 

'I've lost so much,' he said quietly. 

She stood hesitantly in the doorway, teetering between anger
and pity.  'We both have,' she reminded him.  'You seem to
forget that.'

He looked up.  'I haven't forgotten.'

She sighed shakily, trying to control the treacherous
emotions within her.  '*I'm* coping with this case.'

His eyes grew hard.  "I guess you just don't feel, then.'

Biting her lip to keep back the retort, Scully turned away
from him. 

'Scully-'

She shook her head mutely, feeling her throat clench. 
Fighting to keep the tears back she walked to her room and
closed the door. 
 ***

Dana woke with a start at the sound of someone entering her
room. 

The single window in her room was small and heavily
curtained so no light penetrated, the result being that she
couldn't see a thing.  She blinked once, twice to ensure her
eyes were open, then sat up in bed. 

The person hesitated in the doorway when they heard her
shift beneath the bedclothes.  Dana heard the tremulous,
unsteady breaths and knew instantly who it was. 

'Mulder?'

The quiet footsteps resumed as he approached her, moving
past furniture with some kind of unerring night vision. 
Dana said his name again as he sat down on the edge of the
bed by her side, the mattress dipping slightly under his
weight.  He didn't respond. 

She frowned, concerned and began to reach for the bedside
light, needing to see his face, his eyes, to read his so
frequently hidden emotions.  The soft, muffled sob stopped
her and she stayed her hand, her eyes widening in the
darkness, a shock of pain, more mental than physical,
coursing through her. 

'What is it?,' she asked quietly. 

Silence. 

'Talk to me,' she pleaded. 

Another quickly drawn breath and he began to stand.  She
reached out for him and encountered the warm skin of his
upper arm.  He stopped.  Still silent, he sat back down
again. 


'Talk to me,' she repeated.  'What can I do?' She
slid her hand over his bare shoulder to his face, unwilling
to let him lose the contact of her touch.  Her fingers found
the rough texture of his unshaven chin, his full mouth.  He
began to turn his face away, but she had already touched his
cheek, damp with tears. 

'I'm here,' she whispered, turning him towards her
again.  'I'm here for you.'

She slid her hand around the back of neck and leant closer,
until she could feel his warm breath on her mouth. 

'I'm here,' she murmured, and kissed him. 

His lips were tantalizingly soft beneath her own, the
intimate contact incredibly comforting.  She felt him relax
and she drew back a little, her hand holding the gentle
pressure at the nape of his neck. 

'Talk to me.'

He didn't move or speak, and for a moment she wondered if
she had gone too far.  Then his hands came up and gently
cupped her face, and he brought her mouth back to his own. 
What the hell am I doing?  a voice screamed inside her
head.  What happened to professionalism?  To "he's my
partner"?  To "I'm not attracted to him anyway"?  Dana
silenced the voice and swayed into him as he deepened the
kiss, her hands tangling in his thick dark hair.  He ran one
hand down the smooth length of her neck and grasped her
shoulder, the other arm curling strongly about her waist,
pulling her body closer to his own.  She felt the heat of
his skin, burning through the cotton night shirt she wore. 
He wasn't wearing a shirt, she realised as her hands
feathered down the fine muscles of his back.  He caught her
lower lip gently between his teeth when he felt her fingers
run lightly down his spine and released her with a butterfly
kiss, before trailing his lips across the delicate structure
of her cheekbone to her temple. 

Mouth freed, she murmured his name to his hair.  'Mulder,
talk to me'.  Her voice sounded light and breathy even to
her own ears, so she tried again.  'Mulder, please.'

He stopped her mouth with a kiss that left her breathless,
his hands trailing under her shirt.  She gasped at the heat
of his palms against the smooth skin of her sides, the
rational part of her brain reasserting itself as she began
to draw away.  He froze the moment he sensed her
withdrawal.  She felt him stiffen as his hands fell away
from her and he began to pull away. 

Withdrawal. Even now.

'No,' she said out loud. 

He hesitated again. 

'Don't go.' She reached blindly for his face, traced the
full contours of his lips with trembling fingers. 

Without a word he came to her again, catching her in a
fierce embrace, one hand rising up between her
shoulderblades, keeping her tight against his chest as he
lowered them down onto the pillows.  She shifted beneath his
weight, luxuriating in the feel of his body moving above her
own.  She heard his breathing, rapid and uneven as his mouth
made its leisurely way down her throat, her own breath
echoing it and she pressed her head back into the pillows,
overcome with emotion and sensation.  She let her hands roam
at will over his body, through the warm silk that was his
hair, across the muscled shoulders and down his taut arms
until her hands met his.  Long, graceful fingers entwined
with hers and she felt the touch of his lips on the inside
of her wrist briefly. 

She wound her arms about his waist as his mouth moved across
her collarbone and lower, forging a path that left her
gasping in it's wake.  When he reached the cotton barrier of
her nightshirt he moved against it in frustration, his puffs
of breath warm against her skin as he lifted his head.  It
took Dana a moment to summon the strength to move and when
she did, it was with the heavy, slow motion of one drugged. 
Her hand bumped his face as she reached for her buttons and
she let her caress linger a moment on his cheek before
releasing the first button.  He stilled her hand and undid
the rest himself, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin
between her breasts.  She kissed his face as the last button

popped free and his hands slipped it off her shoulders and
down her slender arms. 

Her skin puckered in reaction to the cold air before he
settled his body over her.  Dimly she wondered how, dressed
as he was in only his customary boxers, he could be burning
in the frigid room.  His body was a dream beneath her roving
hands, warm and welcome, the feel of his skin against her
own prompting shivers within her that had nothing to do with
the temperature.  His lips traced the curve of her shoulder,
then moved to the slope of one breast.  She heard nothing
but the sound of their own breaths in the silent room and
her own strangled gasp as he took the tarnished pink peak
between his lips.  She curled her fingers in his hair,
biting her bottom lip to keep back her cry. 

He shifted between her legs, his body flush against hers. 
She could feel him pressing against her, the only barrier
preventing their final joining the thin layer of presumably
black silk. 

*How far are you willing to go, Dana?*asked an
unwelcome voice. 
*As far needs be*, she replied. 

'Wait.' She stayed him with a touch, then paused,
expecting a verbal response of some kind.  When none was
forthcoming she went on.  'Let me get my...purse.'

He touched her cheek, she thought that she detected a tremor
in his fingers, but her sat up without speaking and let her
lean over the edge of the bed and retrieve her small black
handbag.  She heard him shift, heard the unmistakable
slither of silk, and a soft "whump" when his boxers hit the
ground.  Her grasping fingers found the small foil package
she was fumbling for and she handed it to them, unwilling to
trust her own hands to that point.  She waited for the
inevitable quip about being Catholic and her views, but he
said nothing.  His complete silence disturbed her and she
said his name again, letting her lips graze his cheek.  He
shivered, spoke not a word and came to her again, sealing
their mouths with a fervour that was almost desperation. 
His hands traced the curve of her waist and settled on her
hips, pulling her closer. 

Dana let her head fall back against the pillows.  'Please,'
she said.  her voice remarkably steady if barely audible. 
'Say my name.' She needed to hear the dark tones of his
voice, the sound of her name on his lips, husky works
obscured by passion.  Anything.  'God.  Please, Fox.' His
kiss was gentle, the pressure barely discernible on her
swollen mouth and she brought her hands up to cup his face. 
'Mulder.' She felt him against her, then in one fluid move
he was within her, his hands tightening on her hips, urging
her closer as he began to move with a smooth, languid
motion.  With a gasp she arched into him, her arms curving
around his neck and her eyes flickering shut with the
intensity of the sensation. 

His lips traced her features as he rocked her body with his
gentle swaying rhythm. 

At last, at last, at last!  repeated itself within
her head, but she only held him tighter, the only steady
thing in this world of unsure emotion and spinning
sensations.  His tempo picked up, his breath at her ear lost
all semblance of steadiness, and even as she kissed his
shoulder, murmuring his name again, he reached his orgasm,
stiffening and gasping with the force of it.  He fell
against her, his face buried in the crook of her neck while
she stroked his hair gently. 

'Mulder...'

'I love you,' the words barely a breath against her
throat. 

Suddenly he rose off her.  'My God,' he said, his voice
hollow.  'My God.  I'm sorry.' She heard him stand up, walk
to the door, open it.  The light in the main room was
slightly brighter than the pitch black of Dana's bedroom and
for a moment she saw him hesitate in the doorway, a dark
shadow framed by darker walls. 

Then he was gone. 

She dug herself under the covers and shivered, the fevered
heat of passion fading from her limbs, leaving her cold,
tired and sore.  She wept herself to sleep. 
 ***
End of part 10, continued in part 11.


Faeries, part 11 by the pen and the brain. For Disclaimer see
parts 1, 6, 9.

If you're still with us, then you're very brave. The Brain very nearly 
had a heart attack when I told her what I wanted in the last part. But
it will sort itself out, eventually. It always does.

***

Dana woke a little after eleven, with the weak sunlight piercing the
cracks in the drapes and falling across her face and the rumpled
covers of the bed in blades of light. She opened heavy eyelids and
looked, uncomprehending, at the clock for a moment before the time
sank past the thick curtains of sleep that muffled her brain into her
consciousness.

'Damnit,' she murmured, and slipped out from under the covers,
carefully avoiding the fallen clothes strewn by the bed. She wrapped
herself in a bathrobe and stumbled into the bathroom, setting the
shower to hot so the steam rose from the steady stream of water,
obscuring her reflection with the mussed copper hair, half-lidded eyes
and the slight pink bruises on her throat and breasts.

She averted her eyes from the mirror, shed the robe and stepped into
the shower.

The hot water stung her skin and she concentrated on the mild physical
discomfort, rather than the more harrowing mental pain her memory
offered her. After showering she dressed, carefully buttoning the
high-necked blouse and straightening the navy suit coat. As she fixed
her collar something cold bumped between her breasts and she pulled it
out. Mulder's amulet rested on her palm, glinting a little in the
light.

*Protection*.

She made a move to remove it, her fingers fumbling with the damp satin
knot at the nape of her neck before she stopped and let it go. It
rested against the silk of her blouse and there she let it stay.

The door to his room was ajar as she went to leave and against her
will she looked in. His suitcase was as of yet unpacked, standing open
at the base of his bed, one of his shirts half falling out of it. The
picture of Sammantha sat on a side table.

His bed was unslept in.

She shut the door gently and left the room.

'Maggie, I missed my wake-up call this morning, for seven a.m.
Could you-'

At Scully's voice the portly woman at the reception loked up and
smiled. 'No, I'm sorry dear, your partner came down earlier and said
not to wake you.'

Scully stopped short, her eyes first widening then narrowing. 'Oh?'

'Didn't you sleep much last night?,' Maggie asked kindly.

She felt a flush begin to rise in her cheeks and she quickly looked
away. 'Is he here? Mulder?'

'Your partner?,' Maggie asked. 'No. He left very early dear.
He must have had something important to tend to. Inspector Stephens is
having breakfast in the dining room, though.'

Scully thanked her and went to meet Alec.

'Dana! My God, you look entirely done in.' He rose and seated
her, an unconscious gesture that reminded her painfully of Mulder.

'Have some coffee,' he raised his hand to beckon over a girl
with a pencil and notepad. 'They brew it so thick here that your spoon
can stand in it. Before it disintegrates.'

She smiled weakly. 'It sounds just like what I need.'

He ordered for her, freshly brewed coffee and a hearty bowl of
porridge.To her wrinkled nose he insisted, 'Go on! It'll put some hair
on your chest,' with such an affable grin that she relented.

'Where's Fox?,' he asked her when the steaming breakfast had
been laid down before her.

She swallowed a mouthful of eye-wateringly bitter coffee and replied
as nonchalantly as she could. 'Maggie said he'd left earlier. I'd
hoped *you* would know where he was.'

Alec watched her closely, then shook his head. 'No. He said nothing to
me.' A pause. 'Dana, did something happen to you last night?'

She averted her gaze from his thoughful blue eyes, fastened it instead
on the bowl of lumpy oatmeal. Sprinkling it liberally with raw sugar.
Biding her time as she carefully constructed a reply. 'No, nothing
happened. We went to bed. He left before I woke.' She cringed
inwardly, hearing her own words.

'You seem rather distressed,' said Alec. 'I hope-'

She cut in. 'I don't want to appear rude, Alec, but it really is none
of your business.' Her voice was firm, but she knew he was watching
her hands twisting the spoon back and forth between them.

'It *is* my business if it begins to affect the case,' he
said, just as firmly. 'If Mulder is going to make leaving early in the
morning a habit-'

'He won't,' Scully reassured him. 'I'll se that he won't.'

He lowered his eyes from hers. 'All right, Dana,' and left it at that.
A few minutes later he started as if he had just remembered something.
'Oh, Christina Reeves' body is at Penzance Hospital for you.'

She looked up, spoon half-poised. 'Did you get permission to perform
an autopsy from her father?'

'Last night,' Alec said. 'After you and Mulder left. He said
to apologise to you two about his behaviour.' His stare was frankly
curious. 'I told him I'd pass it along.'

Scully refused to reply to the unspoken question, asking instead 'When
shall I go to Penzance?'

'Any time today,' Alec replied. 'They don't get much call for
autopsies down there, so they've set up a makeshift bay for you. Not
too glamorous, I'm afraid.'

'I've performed in worse conditions, I'm sure,'she reassured
him.

'Being familiar with Mulder myself, I believe you,' chuckled
Alec.

The smile she wore faltered a little and Alec sobered.

'I do wish you'd tell me, Dana.'

Mutely she shook her head. 'It's between Mulder and myself, Alec.'

'Very well.' He took her hand gently, though, 'I'm here to
listen if you want to talk.'

She smiled lightly. 'And I appreciate that, Alec. Really.' Looking
over his shoulder she suddenly saw Mulder appear and while she pulled
her hand hastily from Alec's grasp she kept her face carefully
emotionless. She held his gaze for what seemed like an eternity. Cold
blue eyes locked with furious hazel ones. Alec saw the expression and
quickly turned.

Mulder transferred his gaze to his schoolfriend. His lip curled, then
he spun on his heel and disappeared.

Alec stood up. 'Excuse me a moment?'

'Of course.'

He caughtup with Mulder in the hallway, grabbed the other man's arm to
halt his progress and turned him around roughly. The shadows hid
Mulder's face, shrouding his expression in relative darkness, but Alec
could still see his eyes burning with anger in the pale set of his
face as he wrenched his arm from his friend's grip.

'You stay the hell away from my partner, Alec,' Mulder
growled.

'Excuse me?,' Alec asked, letting surprise leak into his
voice.

'I know your reputation with women-'

'MY reputation?,' spluttered Alec. 'May I suggest you look
into your own chequered past-'

'Just keep your damn hands off her.' The low warning was
spoken just barely above a whisper.

'What did you see in there?,' Alec gestured through to the
dining room.

'I saw what I've seen you do a hundred thousand times before
and I know what the result of your seduction will be.'

'Seduction!?'

'I will *not* let you hurt her.'

'No,' said Alec coldly, 'that seems to be *your* job.'

'What?' If anything, Mulder's voice became more dangerous.

Alec drew away a little. 'Look, Fox, I don't know what happened last
night-though I do have my own idea-but Dana is hurting, and if you had
stuck around long enough-'

'What the hell do you know?,' snarled Mulder. 'two days ago
you thought she was some high-class hooker. She's *my partner. *My*
friend-'

'She's her own woman Fox. She does not belong exclusively to
you.'

'So she's fair game to you?'

Alec wet his lips nervously. 'Of course not.'

'So back away.'

'I'm just trying-'

'This discussion is over.' Mulder pushed past him and strode
to the dining room.

Where he stopped. Paused.

'Where is she?' He rounded on Alec. 'Damnit Alec, I have to
talk to her.'

'She needs some time, Mulder.'

'Where the hell is she?'

Alec shook his head. 'Leave her be. Just for today.'

 ***

Penzance Hospital
Penzance, Cornwall
12:04 pm

Scully pulled on a pair of rubber gloves, hearing the satisfying
*snap* of the plastic slapping against her wrists. She switched on the
voice activated recorder and began by stating the time and place. Then
she allowed herself a moment to look at the body.

Christina Reeves had not been a large child, and the pale limbs lying
motionless on the metallic surface were frail and almost transparent.
Her chest was sunken, skin tight around the rib cage. Her eyes were
open, staring unseeing at the roof, their dark depths clouded by
death. The faded lips were parted around the crooked teeth of a young
child. Scully swallowed. Bit back the emotion that swelled,
threatening to engulf her. And began.

'Subject is female, caucasian, age five. Preliminary
investigation suggests drowning. Fluid found in her lungs matches the
lake water in which she was found. Upon cursory examination I agree
with the hypothesis that the child drowned accidentally, as no bruises
or superficial surface wounds can be seen.' She paged through the
police report. 'Toxicology brought up nothing out of the ordinary,
besides the possibility that the child had ingested some form
of...herbal potion before her death. Nothing that could possibly be
damaging or might induce a state in which she would not be...aware of
her surroundings.' She took a deep breath, plowed on. 'Underneath
fingernails and toenails is no sign of dirt or grit, which is unusual
in the event that subject walked to her own drowning. The ground
around the lake was extremely marshy and as she was found naked and
shoeless, one would expect samples of silt to be turned up in an
autopsy. Yet, nothing. Otherwise, all symptoms point to an accidental
drowning.' Scully stopped as she turned the body over, exposing two
open wounds. 'My God.' The words slipped from her mouth as she saw her
gloved fingers probe the gashes. 'On her shoulderblades, tilted
towards the spine, are two...wounds. Identical in shape and size, the
slits are about five inches in length, depth of nearly an inch and a
half, but nearly entirely healed.' She turned to the police report
again, flicked through the pages until she reached "identifying
marks". 'These wounds, they must be months, *years* in age, are *not*
mentioned in the police report, *or* the missing child form her father
filled out.' She made a note on her report to remind herself to look
deeper into the neat slits on Christina Reeves' back. *Curious*.

 ***

End of part 11, continued part12


Faeries part 12 - By the Pen and the Brain.
For Disclaimer see part 1, 6, 9.

***

Alec said nothing in the car between the hotel and the Waterhouse
residence. Mulder appreciated the silence and sat in the passenger
seat staring out of the window at the passing countryside. Finally the
house came into sight, a huge sprawling stone monstrosity seated on
the rise of a slight hill.

It looked cold and empty.

 'My God,' Mulder murmured to himself. 'What an eyesore.'

Alec laughed. 'It's Cornwall, Fox. Most of the houses are this
pretentious.'

A butler let them in when they rang the echoing bell and showed them
into the parlour where a tall red-headed woman sat on a sofa before an
electric fire. Mulder's breath caught when they first came in seeing
the woman wrapped in a plaid blanket. The combination of pale skin and
coppery hair stabbed and at his quickly drawn breath Alec looked at
him.

 'Mrs. Baxter?,' Mulder asked.

 'Waterhouse,' the woman replied hollowly.

Mulder looked at Alec, eyebrows raised. 'I'm sorry?'

 'Mrs. Waterhouse,' she repeated, turning around slowly. She
looked at them both from head to foot, her enigmatic dark eyes meeting
Mulder's before flitting to Alec's face. 'Inspector Stephens,' she
said, 'Who's your friend?'

Mulder approached her, outstretched hand before him. 'I'm Agent
Mulder, from the F.B.I.'

Peta Waterhouse's eyebrows shot up. 'From America?' She gestured to
the sofa. 'Won't you sit down?'

 'Thankyou.'

Mulder and Alec took a seat on the couch and the woman sat opposite
them on a cushy footstool. For a moment there was silence, during
which Mulder glanced around the room, feeling uncomfortable. He wished
Scully was there.

The heater began to hum, then buzz, the sound raucous in the silence.
Mrs. Waterhouse stretched out a slippered foot, kicked it and the
cacophony subsided.

 'Tell me about Henry,' said Mulder suddenly. She looked up,
glanced at Alec. 'I've already told Inspector Stephens everything.'
Alec moved forward in his seat. 'Tell us again, Peta.'

She sighed, clenched the blanket in a fist then relaxed it. 'Henry
left with his cubs troupe on Friday evening. Carol, she's our maid,
saw him off. Andrew and I were at dinner. His troupe leader called off
the camp and came to our house on Saturday after he had gone. He
said,' her voice broke and she stopped a moment. 'I'm sorry.'

 'That's okay,' replied Mulder, 'take your time.'

 'Henry disappeared Friday night, very, very late. The two boys
he was sharing with said he left a little before dawn broke. No
explanation. He didn't come back.'

 'What time did they begin a search party?,' Mulder asked Alec.

  'As soon as it was reported we swept the forest,' replied
Alec. 'Of course, we didn't find anything.'

'Of course not,' said Peta. 'Whoever took him-'

'Are you *sure* someone took him?,' asked Mulder. 'Totally
absolutely sure that he didn't get lost and-'

'No,' said Peta firmly. Someone took him. Someone drowned
him.'

'There's no chance that-'

'No!,' snapped Peta.

'Mulder,' said Alec in a quiet voice. 'Henry didn't swim.'

'He was found in the middle of the lake. Maybe he was teaching
himself.' Even as he spoke he heard Scully in his voice, his
questions.

'You don't understand,' cried Peta furiously. 'He has a fear
of water. It terrifies him, large bodies of water, showers, heavy
rain. We have to wash him down with a damp cloth-he has a fit if he is
brought anywhere *near* a bath.

Mulder's brow furrowed. He looked from Mrs. Waterhouse to Alec 
and back again. '*Something* must have brought this on.'

Peta nodded. 'He was christened with a full immersion. The preacher 
held him under for a little too long, he took in a lungfull of water...' 
She began to shake. 'I think of him, forced to the side of  the lake. 
I think of how afraid he must have been. I lie awake in bed at night 
and I wonder if he was crying.' She looked up at Mulder. 'Was he 
calling for me? Did he need me and I wasn't there? Agent Mulder 
I'm not strong enough to bear this.' She began to cry, her shoulders 
shaking violently. 'I was so afraid for him.'

'We'll find him, Mrs. Waterhouse,' Mulder assured her.

'I know who it was,' she spat.

'What?'

'Peta,' said Alec in a warning voice.

'I *know* who drowned him.'

'Peta, leave the investigating to us,' said Alec.

'No.' Mulder held up a hand. 'I want to hear this.'

'Eilian George. The old witch,' snarled Peta. 'She'd been trying to 
break Henry's phobia for years. She considered it "unhealthy". It 
stands to reason that-'

'What about the other murders?,' Mulder asked her.

She shrugged. 'Every theory has it's flaws, Agent Mulder.'

'Come on Fox, let's go,' said Alec.

'Who's Eilian George?,' Mulder asked.

'Kate Winslow's mother.'

'Who's Kate Winslow?'

'The local freak,' said Mrs. Waterhouse. 'You ask Eilian about the
murders. Better yet, ask Hannah - she was friends with them all.'

'Hannah?' A memory stirred in Mulder's mind. 'Hannah is Eilian 
George's granddaughter? Hannah from the Hayle school?'

'None other,' said Peta.

'Thankyou,' said Mulder, 'you've been most helpful.'

***

Penzance Hospital
Penzance
2:34 pm

It wasn't difficult to find Dr. Aaron Carter. Three young, 
giggling nurses pointed Scully to the "Green Room" and there 
she found him, sprawled out over a plastic couch with one 
foot on the coffee table and the other on the arm rest. 

When she saw him she looked hopefully around the sparse 
room again, expecting to see a balding, pot-bellied doctor by 
the sputtering kettle, or better still a professional, white-
coated surgeon seated primly at the wonky table reviewing 
charts.

But no. There was only this one man, slouched across a sofa 
with a packet of crisps in his hand, laughing at some trashy 
soapie on the television.

She sighed. 'Excuse me?'

He turned at her voice, looked her over thoroughly and 
grinned. ''Allo.' Otherwise he made no move.

'Doctor Carter?,' she asked him.

'Aaron.' He rose now and crossed the room to her. 'And you 
would be...?'

She resisted the urge to step away. 'I'm Agent Dana Scully. 
>From the F.B.I.'

He nodded. 'Right, you're working on the case in Hayle, 
right? You requested the autopsy bay.'

'That's right. I-'

'Need me to perform the autopsy,' he finished. 'Anything for a 
pretty lady.'

With an effort she tamped down on her temper. 'No-I've just 
completed the autopsy.'

His eyes widened. '*You're* a doctor?'

She hid her smile at his amazement. 'I'm a federal agent with 
a medical degree in forensic pathology.'

'So why do you need me?'

He didn't move away so she pushed past him and pulled up a 
chair by the table. 'You did the cursory examination on the 
body of Christina Reeves?'

'Yes?,' he leant against the door jamb. 'Complimenting me on 
my work?'

'No,' she said. 'Will you sit down, please.'

'O...kay,' he said and sat down opposite her, pulling his chair 
close. 'You know, you have the most lovely blue eyes.'

She gritted he teeth. 'Dr. Carter-'

'Aaron. They're most astonishingly blue.'

'Very  perceptive.'

'I'm known for being perceptive.' He leant closer. Scully felt 
his foot brush her ankle and barely restrained herself from 
kicking him. 

'Under the circumstances I find that very difficult to believe. 
Unless of course you're blind as well as being unprofessional.' 
She bit her lip, forced herself to remain calm. 'Dr. Carter. 
whilst doing the autopsy this afternoon I found something 
that you failed to report. I was wondering why.'

He sat up in the chair. '*What* something?'

She passed the folder to him wordlessly, sliding it across the 
formica table top.

He opened it. 'My God.'

'Exactly,' she said, just a hint of triumph in her voice. 'Now 
you understand my astonishment that you somehow managed 
to miss them.'

He ran a hand through his sandy blond hair. 'I can explain.'

She raised her eyebrows as if to say, "*Really?*  *How?*"  
'Oh?'

'I had a group of students sit in on the examination. We run a 
training program at the hospital. It's quite distracting, so it's 
quite possible I wasn't as thorough as I might have been.' He 
shrugged. 

Her expression was disbelieving. 'They're very *large* 
gashes, Dr. Carter.'

He shrugged again. 'I was attempting to conduct a class at the 
time, Dr. Scully. You couldn't possibly know how-'

'I know perfectly well how distracting, or not, a class is. I 
taught at the F.B.I. acadamey, and if anything, an audience 
makes you *more* thorough, not *less*.' She waited for his 
reply. 

'I'm guessing *your* audience weren't all in dresses two sizes 
too small with straining bodices and legs right up to their 
armpits.'

She forced herself not to react, he was pushing her now. 'No,' 
she readily admitted. 'Most of my students were men. Anyone 
following that description would have stuck out.'

'There you go, then.'

She drew herself up to her full height. 'Are you suggesting 
that your *libido* stood in the way of your completing a 
relatively easy examination successfully?' Her voice was cold 
now, scornful.

He rose also, responding defensively, 'I'm a *good* doctor.'

'Then should I approach your administrator about renovating 
the nurse's uniform?' From all of her five-foot-two-and-a-bit 
she stared him down and he sat, resigned.

'No.'

She took one of her cards from her purse, wrote the name and 
address of the hotel on the back of it. 'Find me the autopsy 
reports for all the other children. Go over them with a fine 
comb and contact me with the results.' She handed the card to 
him. 'Tomorrow.'

As she walked out the door she heard him call after her. 'So, 
can I take you out some time?'       

***


Hello, hello!  Part 13 as requested.  I hope everyone read 6 to
8, once I finally reposted them.  Part thirteen is rated PG
again.  Just.  This thing with Mulder and Scully will sort itself
out.  No fear.  I'm a relationshipper at heart, and I can't bear
to have them apart for too long. 
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully etc, etc.  I can't be bothered
writing anything witty, and besides, you've all heard it before. 

***

Hayle. 
Cornwall. 
6:15 pm. 

'So, Fox.  What are you thinking?'

Mulder stirred from his reverie and realized that they were once
again outside the grey stone walls of the Hotel.  Wearily he
unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the car door, letting the brisk
evening air wash over him.  'Huh?'

'Do we have a lead?'

He looked at Alec, considering his question.  'I'd like to check
out Eilian George.'

Alec sighed as they mounted the stairs.  'Mulder, you of all
people should consider that an entirely unhelpful lead.'

'Have you looked into the granddaughter?' Mulder asked him. 

Alec looked puzzled.  'Should I have?'

'She's been extracted from school, she was friends with most of
the kids killed.'

'Paranoia, my friend.  I'd take my daughter out of the school,
too.  Hell, I'd take her out of the damn country.'

'Maybe,' Mulder acceded.  'But I'd like you to look into it
anyway.  It's the closest thing to a link that we have.'

'Okay.' Alec checked his wristwatch.  'It's early, do you want to
drop in on them now?'

Mulder shook his head.  'No, I want Scully there.'

At her name Alec stopped, watched him, carefully gauging his
reaction.  During the course of the day, between Peta
Waterhouse's home, David Lomas' home and Caroline Walker's
run-down cottage, Mulder had insisted that they intersperse their
visits with trips to the hotel.  Is she here?  Did she come
home?  Has she rung?  To which Maggie's tired response was
always, 'No, I'm sorry Agent Mulder, she's not here.  She's not
come back yet.  No, she hasn't rung.  Yes, I'll call you when she
gets back.'

'Tomorrow then,' said Alec. 

As they passed the reception Maggie bounded up from behind the
counter, pencil in her mouth and papers in her hand.  She put
down the sheaf of forms, removed the pencil and said, 'Agent
Mulder, she's in your room.'

Mulder didn't even wait for Alec's reaction.  He reached the
stairs and mounted them two at a time, leaving Alec to thank the
flustered manageress. 

Scully, sitting at her laptop with her back to the door, heard
his key in the lock and steeled herself.  The door swung open and
he charged in, slamming it behind him.  'Where the *hell* have
you been?'

She answered him calmly, turning only her face toward him. 
'Penzance Hospital.' She began to pack up her notes and
computer.  'I performed the autopsy on Christina Reeves.'

He couldn't read anything from her tone of voice and she was
deliberately keeping her expressive blue eyes averted from him,
packing up and leaving the room.  He followed her as far as the
bedroom door, unwilling to intrude on her personal sanctuary
again. 

She heard him pause in her doorway and was glad for it. 

'Can I come in?'

His voice, so quiet, wrenched at something within her, brought
back banished memories of other times he'd used that tone.  *Do
you think I'm spooky?* Can he come in?  He didn't need an
invitation last night.  'Uh huh.'

She heard him take slow steps into the room, heard him stop and
she looked around at him.  He was looking at the bed, the rumpled
covers, the clothes on the floor.  His expression was unreadable
as he transferred his gaze to her. 

'Have you eaten?' He knew she hadn't.

She felt the hollowness gnaw at her stomach.  'No.' Of course
not.  'I'm not hungry.' Liar. 

He looked at her standing by the bed, barefoot, decked out in
pilly tracksuit pants and her old, soft, grey flannel shirt with
the buttons coming loose.  Her perfectly sculpted face framed by
the masses of copper hair pinned away from her eyes with
tortoiseshell clips.  He wanted to run his fingers through it
again, feel the warmth of the silky strands catch on his fingers,
the fragrance that stayed on his skin until morning. 

She moved slightly, pulling her gaze from his, the movement
exposing her neck for the first time.  He saw the faint pink
marks marring the pale cream of her throat.  Remembered his mouth
there.  Remembered the taste and texture of her skin.  She saw
him watching her.  Saw him take in the obvious marks of last
night's transgression.  Passion.  And ultimately, betrayal.  She
looked at him. 

'We have to...,' he hesitated.  'Eat.'

*Coward*.  'All right.'

He wasn't going to talk to her.  He wasn't going to
discuss...*it* with her.  The knowledge pained her more than
anything else that had happened.  She picked miserably at the
salad on her plate, watching her fork mangling a cherry tomato. 

He took a deep breath, seemingly to speak, but when she looked up
hopefully he subsided into silence again. 

Mentally she cursed him, then she made up her mind.  'When we get
back to D.C., I'm requesting a transfer.' The words were spoken
quietly, carefully, without emotion, but the reaction was
instant. 

He dropped his fork, his eyes widening, his face drained of
color.  'You what?,' he asked. 

She strengthened her resolve.  'I don't feel that I can work
with...,' *you*, 'the X-files any longer.'

He felt her words hit him with the force of a brick, the air
sucked out of his lungs.  He could only stare in horror at her
bowed head.  'You...*can't* go.' *Damnit!  Look at me!*

'Why not?'

*Because it would deal me a death-blow*, he thought.  *Because if
you leave there'll be nothing to stop me from going insane. 
Because I don't want you to.* 'Because they won't let you.'

She didn't raise her head, but he saw her shoulders trembling. 

'*They'd* like nothing better than to have us separated, Mulder. 
That won't be a problem.'

'Dana-'

Her head snapped up and her luminous eyes met his.  'You never
call me that Mulder.  Don't start now.'

'I'm not going to let you go,' he said fiercely. 

Her chin rose a little, defiantly.  'You can't stop me.  I'm
already gone.'

'Just like that?,' he asked her bitterly. 

She pulled her eyes from his, from the eyes that were tearing a
hole in her soul.  'Just like that.'

He watched her with a growing feeling of helplessness.  She was
leaving him.  And unlike last time he had no-one to strike out
against but himself.  His own greed, his own selfishness had
driven her away.  'I need you.'

Her breath caught at the whispered words.  She felt her eyes fill
with tears, and she fought to stop them spilling onto her cheeks
where they would be seen and understood.  'No, you don't,' she
said, her voice harsh, forced from unwilling lips.  He could only
shake his head, the power to speak, to protest stolen from him by
her words.  *You're wrong*, he tried to say.  *You're so wrong. 
I need you more than I've ever needed anyone or anything*. 

For the first time he saw the amulet, the complex twists in the
metal strangely simple to the eye.  He reached across the table
to touch it and she flinched, pulling away from his hand, her
face paled slightly. 

He drew away quickly, his lips tightening.  'I'd never hurt you. 
You know that.'

She ducked her head, twisting the serviette in her hands. 

He felt his heart sink low and heavy in his chest.  'You've
forgotten what I said to you last night.'

Her reply was quiet but intense, she didn't look up.  'You didn't
say much at all, last night.'

'I said I loved you.'

'Oh God.' She pushed her chair away from the table abruptly and
dropped her napkin beside her plate.  He caught her hand before
she managed to walk away. 

'I want you to stay,' he said, pulling her back to her chair. 

'So you've said,' she replied angrily, wrenching her hand from
his, standing again. 

'Stay.' He blocked her way by standing as well, trying to ignore
the physical proximity, the way her eyes shone with pain and rent
his heart. 

'It isn't enough!,' she exclaimed, falling into her chair. 

'What isn't?,' he asked gently. 

'This,' she said with a gesture.  'You.  Me.  Us.  This isn't
enough.'

He fought to understand her, sitting down slowly, computing her
words in his head. 

With his onset of silence she sighed, tears rising to choke her. 
'I just don't feel that I can continue working with you.'

He was silent, sitting opposite her, watching her, feeling all
energy seep from him.  He felt the words come to his mouth and
tried to hold them back, as if denying their presence would make
them go away.  Then, quietly, 'I love you.'

She closed her eyes, lashes dark against her skin. 

'Nothing terrifies me more,' he finished. 

'Why?,' she asked him.  Her eyes opened, met his.  'Are you
afraid I'll hurt you?'

He shook his head.  'No.  I'm afraid I'll hurt you.  Again.'

She didn't respond, so after a moment he went on.  'You've
already left me so many times.  Nearly been taken away from me. 
Sometimes it seems the harder I try to hold on to you the more
easily you slip away.  I don't know how to deal with it.  Every
day I have this fear...' He stopped.  'It's not something I have
defences against.  When...*they*.  Whoever.  When they took Sam I
had someone to rail against.  Someone to fight.  With you...I
don't know.  With you I don't have anyone to blame.  I don't have
the support of hatred I rely on.' He bit his lip, tried to read
her expression.  'I have so many needs when it comes to you, and
that scares me.  While I know you can't possibly satisfy all my
needs I still see myself trying to push-'

'Stop it!,' she finally exclaimed.  'Stop it!  My God!  Listen to
yourself-"I, me, mine".  This isn't just about you.  I'm here! 
I'm right here!'

Despite himself her heard her words echo themselves on an
entirely different context.  *I'm here.  I'm here for you. 
Speak to me.*

'*This* is why I have to go,' she continued.  'I'm finding it too
draining.'

'It's me,' he said miserably. 

'See!  There you go again,' she said, frustrated.  'I'm a grown
woman, Mulder.  I'm old enough to make my decisions by myself. 
The decision to leave has nothing to do with you.'

'Liar,' he challenged. 

'Maybe,' she conceded.  'The point is I'm giving so much and I'm
not receiving anything from you in return.  You've asked for
friendship and I gave you friendship.  You asked for trust and I
gave you trust.  You asked for...comfort and I gave you comfort-'

'Now I'm asking for love,' he said. 

She jerked back, almost recoiling from the word.  'No.' Her
reaction was adamant.  'Now you're asking for forgiveness.'

'Are you capable of giving it?,' he had to ask. 

'Forgiveness?'

'Love.'

She shook her head, a warning.  'Love isn't the issue here,
Mulder.'

'I think it is, Dana.  Answer the question.'

She paused when she heard her name.  Then carefully, biding her
time, she replied.  'I'm capable of giving it, yes,' she said
cautiously.  'Whether I'm willing to or not is another matter.'

He sat back in his chair, satisfied.  '*Now* the issue is
forgiveness.'

She looked down the table, tried to force the emotion out of her
voice, tried to make it clinical and detached.  'Why did you
leave?'

*Finally*, he thought, *finally we've reached the crux of the
matter*.  He opened his mouth to make a flippant reply but she
stopped him with a slightly raised hand. 

'The truth, please.'

'The truth.' He paused, then began. 

        '"The night was a failure
        But why not-? 
        On the darkness with the pale dawn seething at the window
        through the black frame
        I could not be free,
        Not free myself from the past-
        and our love was a confusion,
        there was a horror,
        you recoiled away from me."'

She looked away from his eyes.  'D.H. Lawrence, First Morning. 
Well quoted.'

He bit his lip.  'You're quite correct, well cited.  The truth is
I went in to find comfort.  I just needed to hear your voice.  To
know that you were there.  And then...that happened and I wanted
you so badly...'

She could see he was struggling with the words, stumbling over
clumsy sentences as the fierce rage of emotions fought their way
out. 

'And afterwards I couldn't bear the thought of what I'd just
done.  To you.  To our partnership...I felt like I'd destroyed
everything that mattered to me, and I couldn't bear that
thought.  So I left.'

She bit her lip.  'Mulder...' She saw the pain in his face when
she looked up.  'Nothing would have happened if I hadn't...wanted
it to.  It wasn't your fault.'

'I hurt you,' he said hollowly. 

'When you left, yes,' she replied.  'When I woke up and I
couldn't find you.  You weren't there and nothing has hurt more.'

'Dana, I-'

'But I understand why you had to leave.'

He saw her pain now, saw the monumental error in judgement he had
made in leaving her.  He hadn't been running to protect her, he
had been running to protect himself.  But it all came back to
her.  *He* always came back to her and she *understood*.  She
understood and she took him back and she *loved* him.  Every
glance, every gesture, every painful word spoke of it.  He wanted
to hold her again.  He cleared his throat and spoke instead. 
'Thankyou.'

'Don't leave me again.'

The tone of her words was light, but he saw the underlying
warning in her eyes.  *Never*, he thought.  *My God, Dana. 
Never*.  'It's late,' he said. 

They left the main light off when they got upstairs.  The light
flooding in through the uncurtained windows off the bay below
provided adequate illumination. 

In the cool blue shadows he saw her turn.  'Goodnight.'

He reached out a little and caught her hand.  It was small and
cold in her own.  He drew her towards him, gently but firmly, and
she came, her eyes never leaving his until they closed when he
kissed her softly on the mouth. 

'Goodnight.' He released her and she slipped into her room,
closing the door.  A moment later he heard the lock engage, a
quiet stabbing click. 

He shut his eyes on the tears that threatened to fall. 

***

Faeries: Part 14. By The Pen and The Brain.
For disclaimer, see one of the other parts, I'm sick of writing them.

ThePen@hotmail.com

***
The Winslow family home sat at the edge of the forest, a large
two- storey structure with ivy climbing the walls and thick
glazed windows.  A tall, bone-thin woman answered the door when
Mulder and Scully knocked.  She was dressed in a dark skirt and
blouse, accentuating the extreme paleness of her skin and the
wispy white strands of hair flying loose from her bun.  She
looked at them with suspicion when she opened the door, her clear
blue eyes flitting from Mulder, then fastening hard on Scully. 
'You can't come in unless I've invited you,' she said roughly. 

Judging from her age, her heavy accent and her strange behaviour
Mulder decided that she must be Eilian-the grandmother. 

He realised that Scully must have reached the same conclusion,
for after a moment she stirred by his elbow.  'Mrs.  George?'

The woman sagged visibly.  'You're from the states,' she said,
obviously relieved. 

'Yes,' replied Scully, more than a little bemused.  'I'm Agent
Scully, this is agent Mulder.  We're here to-'

'Come in,' said Eilian briskly.  'You're letting all the warm out
standing in the doorway like that.'

She bustled them in and took their overcoats, hanging them in an
oak hall cupboard.  While she was turned away Mulder took the
opportunity to examine the room.  One or two woven rugs lay on a
polished wood floor, the furniture was all mismatched and
comfortable looking.  A fireplace burned in a corner of the
room.  All around the house were vases full of green leaves, red
berries sprinkled liberally throughout them.  He touched Scully's
shoulder and silently pointed them out to her.  'Rowan,' he said
to her.  'Protection.'

'Old wive's tale,' she replied. 

'Maybe,' said Eilian, coming up behind them, 'but it seems to
work.  You'll have to excuse the way I greeted you.  I thought
that you were someone else.  One of *hers*.' 'Who's?,' asked
Mulder curiously. 

Eilian leant in to whisper conspiratorialy.  'D.A.N.A.'

Puzzled, Mulder shot Scully a glance.  'Dana?'

She gave a tiny shrug in response. 

'Not Dana,' said Eilian, lowering her voice further.  'Thanu. 
It's a bad omen speaking *her* name aloud.  *She* is mother
Goddess.  The queen of the fairies.  The first of the Tuatha de
Danaan.  The last of the Daoine Sidhe.' She grinned at Mulder. 
'That's why your girlfriend gave me such a start.  It's the
colouring, she looks just like one ought.'

'Oh,' said Mulder, amused.  He turned to Scully.  'Is there
something you haven't told me about yourself, Dana?'

She quirked an eyebrow.  'Many things.  Does that bother you?'

He chuckled.  'You have to admit it's weird.'

'Spooky,' she agreed with a smile.  'But that's why they called
you, right?'

He smiled in response, then hailed down Eilian.  'You know that's
why we're here, don't you Mrs.  George?'

Eilian bit her lip and looked away from them.  'You're here about
the children.'

Scully shot Mulder a look.  'Yes,' she said.  'Did you know
them?'

Eilian sighed.  'I knew every last one of them, Agent Scully. 
All but the last were friends of my granddaughter.'

'Hannah,' said Mulder. 

Eilian looked shocked, then she descended on Mulder with
suspicion burning in her eyes.  'How would you know?'

Mulder took a slow step back.  'I'm sorry, Mrs.  George...'

'You *are* one of them!  Out!  Out!' She thrust a bony finger at
Scully, and Mulder stepped protectively between them. 

'No,' he said.  'We've been to the school.  The kids told me that
Hannah hadn't been at school...'

Eilian seemed to lose her energy and fell back into a seat.  'Can
you blame me?  Someone-some*thing* is after her.'

Mulder shook his head and responded gently.  'Mrs.  George,
there's no reason to suspect that Hannah will be a victim.'

'Then why is she being followed?'

'Who said that she is?,' Mulder asked carefully. 

'Hannah,' said the old woman.  'She's a perceptive child, Agent
Mulder.  She senses things.'

Mulder looked at Scully, then back to Eilian.  'Can we meet her?'

Eilian looked uneasily at the two of them.  'I don't know...'

Scully tried to reassure her. 'Please, Mrs. George. Hannah may 
be the only link in the case.'

Finally Eilian nodded. 

She led them up the stairs and along the narrow hallway until
they reached a door at the end. "Hannah's Room," a sign taped 
to the wood panels declared. The script was uneven and childlike,
marked out in bright coloured crayon. Eilian twisted the knob a 
little. 'Hannah?,' she said quietly. 'There's someone here to see 
you.' With that she fully opened the door and admitted them.

The first thing that struck Mulder about the room was the 
innocence of it. The large windows and high roof combined 
to accentuate the light atmosphere. A large collection of plush 
soft toys piled up on an old high bed. The carpet was littered 
with books and cloths. The walls were painted with Cicely 
May Baker murals: Tiny fairies, watercolour flowers, a 
veritable woodland in a child's fantasy world. Hannah herself 
was lying in this  melee on her front, tartan pinafore rucked 
up over her knees, stockinged legs waving in the air. She was 
clutching a purple pencil with which she was putting the 
finishing touches on a sketch of a bluebell.

Beside him Scully cleared her throat. 'Hello, Hannah.'

Hannah smiled back. 'Hello.'

'I'm Dana Scully and this is Fox Mulder. We're from the 
F.B.I. in America,' said Scully.

'Oh,' said Hannah. She put down her pencil and sat up, 
crossing her legs and pulling her skirt down over her knees. 
'You want to talk to me about *them*, don't you?'

'Who?,' Mulder asked her.

She bit her bottom lip. 'Nanna says I shouldn't say their 
names aloud.'

'Why not?,' Scully queried.

'It's bad. I'll write it for you.' She turned her drawing over and 
drew the letters "T-H-E-E-N-A  S-H-E-E". She passed the 
sheet of paper over to them. 'It's not how you *really* spell it-
but it's how it sounds.'

Scully furrowed her brow. 'Daoine S-' she began, but was 
stopped when Mulder clapped a hand over her mouth.

'Bad,' he murmured into her ear. 'Call them "them".'

Scully just looked at him. 

'Your grandmother said you thought someone was following 
you.'

'I don't *think* someone's following me, mister,' said 
Hannah. 'I *know* someone is.'

'Do you have any idea who it is?,' Scully asked her.

'It's lots of them. I don't know their names. They're all the 
same.'

'Puck, peaseblossom and mustard seed,' murmured Scully in a 
barely audible voice.

Suddenly Mulder pitched backwards as something wove 
between his legs. Scully steadied him, and he looked down at 
a massive white cat curling around his ankles.

'Jesus,' he muttered under his breath.

'Tinkerbell!,' exclaimed Hannah.

'*Tinkerbell?*,'  he heard his own incredulous voice say. He 
saw Scully's shoulders begin to shake and had the nasty 
suspicion that she was fighting to keep the laughter back.

'What a gorgeous, uh...cat,' he said to Hannah and knelt down 
to pat it. It ingnored him entirely and slunk over to Scully 
where, putting it's front paws on her leg it stretched 
luxuriously.

Hannah grinned. 'Tinkerbell likes you.'

Mulder leaned forward to murmur, 'Tinkerbell has good 
taste.'

She leant down to run her hand along the spine of the cat and 
Tinkerbell arched ecstatically into her hand. Mulder watched 
her for a moment, rubbing her fingers under the cat's chin, 
then he turned his attention back to Hannah. 'Do you know 
*why* these, ...er, people have been following you?'

'They want me to play with them,' whispered Hannah. 'But I 
won't. I know what happens to people who play with them. I 
don't want to play with them. I don't want to get drowned in 
the Lake of Children, like Chrissie and Beth did.'

'I'm not going to let that happen,' said Agent Mulder gently. 
'Agent Scully and I are here to find these people and stop 
them.'

'Hannah, where do you think they may be at the moment?,' 
Scully asked, rising to her feet.

Hannah shrugged. 'The forest?'

'You're not sure?,' Mulder asked.

Hannah shook her head.

Mulder sighed. 'Okay, well, Agent Scully and myself will probably
be in Hayle for a while, so maybe we'll come visit you again.'

They turned away, but before they could leave Hannah pulled on 
Scully's sleeve and motioned for her to bend down. When she did 
Hannah reached a small plump hand into the collar of her blouse 
and produced the pewter amulet.

'You should really wear it on the outside,' she said. 'That way it
won't need to be protection. It will be warning enough.' She 
traced the interwoven knot with her finger. 'I like it. It reminds
me of him.'

'Who?,' asked Scully.

Hannah smiled. An expression too old for her passed through her 
eyes. 'The one in your mind and your heart,' she replied.

***    

"Faeries", by The Pen and Brain. Part 15 of very, very many.
 Okay, if you've just jumped into the story. You should know by now
that you have to read the rest, otherwise you'll be totally lost.
If you're interested and you can't find it anywhere (It's a monster
and at the moment you'll only find 1 to 5 on the archive) give me
a buzz at ThePen@hotmail.com and I'll either send it to you or
show you where to find it...
For those of you who are tuning in again: Hello! And welcome!
Disclaimer: Fox Mulder (swoon) and Dana Scully (cheer) belong
to Chris Carter (stimulate that chakra, man) and 1013 (down, 
brainwaves!). And Twentieth Century Fox (who, I might add, are not
on my Christmas Card list ever since they waged war on 'Phile sites.)
And now, on with the show...

***

Mulder was waiting for her downstairs, sitting at a scarred kitchen
table. She came down, hesitating in the doorway. He looked up from a
heavy leather-bound book and motioned her to a chair opposite him.

Eilian smiled at her as she slid into the seat. "Would you like
something to drink?"

"Coffee, if you have some?," she replied.

"No," said Eilian, the smile still playing at the corners of her lips.
"I have something just as good." She pushed a chipped mug across the
table. "Birch and cinnamon tea."

Scully raised her eyebrows and glanced to her partner.

"Delicious," he said by way of reply.

She took a tentative sip and found the tea was thick and sweet,
caramel coloured with cream swirls of milk that dissappeared under her
teaspoon. She inclined her head towards the book in front of Mulder.
"What's that?"

"Book of spells," he replied cryptically.

Eilian cuffed him gently across the back of his head. "Hush, you'll
scare her. Recipies, Dana. Most of them."

"The rest are spells," Mulder said.

Scully just glared at him, then hid her smile behind the mug of tea.
"What sort of spells?"

"Assorted," he said in a distracted tone of voice.

Eilian peered over his shoulder, glanced up at Scully and laughed.
"'Twon't work if she's already in love with you, Fox."

Scully rose halfway off her chair. "What?"

He snapped the book shut, feigning innocence. "Nothing," he said with
false nonchalance. She narrowed her eyes at him, but let it slide.

He looked up at Eilian. "Mrs George, may we speak to Hannah's mother?"

The older woman looked uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot
before sitting down at the table. "She's...different, Fox. She doesn't
speak much."

"We won't ask many questions."

"I really don't think it would be a good idea," Eilian insisted. "I'm
sure she wouldn't be able to help anyway."

"Why?," asked Scully curiously.

Eilian tapped her head. "She's not all there sometoimes. Most of the
time."

"Mother?"

Both Mulder and Scully jumped at the sound of the voice, quiet and
husky, but echoing strangely around the room.

Scully stood up from her chair. "Mrs Winslow?"

The woman transferred her gaze to the diminutive agent, her green eyes
luminous. "Yes?"

Mulder stood also. "I'm Agent Mulder, this is my partner, Dana
Scully."

"Dana?," the woman asked in a bemused way.

"Kate-," said Eilian over Scully's reply.

"We would like to talk to you about Hannah?," Mulder asked carefully.

Kate looked even more confused and pushed a dark lock of hair back
from her eyes.

"Your daughter," Scully prompted her, shooting Mulder a puzzled look.

"Hannah," said Kate.

"Kate-," Eilian protested again.

"Is Hannah-," Kate began to shake. "Is Hannah-"

Alarmed, Scully reached for her. "Mrs. Winslow?"

Kate's knees folded and she sank to the floor murmuring to herself.
Eilian was at her side in a moment, kneeling with Scully on the wooden
floor.

"Mrs George, is she having a seizure?," Scully asked frantically.

"Of sorts," Eilian replied.

Scully felt her anger rise with the noncommittal reply. She shook her
head to clear it. "Is she epileptic?"

"No," Eilian said, "Nothing like that. Her soul is uncomfortable in
it's current vessel. Frankly I'm surprised she's survived as long as
she has."

Scully glanced at the older woman. "Has she had any seizures before?"

"Oh yes. It will pass."

No sooner had Eilian spoken these words than Scully felt Kate sag, her
head lolling back against Scully's supporting arm, face blanched
white. She opened her eyes and the brilliance was dimmed by pain and
clouded by tears.

"Kate?" Scully kept her voice gentle, leaning over the woman. "Do you
know where you are?"

Kate's eyes swivelled to Eilian. "I'm going to be ill," she said in a
surprisingly clear voice.

Scully helped her upright and got her to the sink, keeping a
comforting hand on the clammy nape of her neck.

"Mrs George, will you get Kate a warm shirt, please?" Scully looked
to Eilian, fighting to keep the grimace off her face. "Mulder, from
the bathroom, a facewasher or something." She pulled the soiled blouse
from Kate's shoulders, wadding it up into a ball and leaving it on the
sink. Then she froze.

On Kate's hunched back were two gashes, identical to the gashes on
Christina's, but entirely healed into thick white scars.

She heard Mulder come up behind her and he sucked in a breath as he
saw the wounds.

"My God."

She turned towards him. "These-"

"I know."

Eilian appeared in the doorway with a knitted cardigan which she
draped around her daughter's shoulders.

"Mrs George," Scully began, "How did Kate get these gashes?"

"I think you'd better go now," said Eilian, wrapping the trembling
body in her arms.

"Kate-," Mulder began, but Eilian cut him off sharply.

"Now."

Mulder looked puzzled, but nevertheless he motioned Scully to the
hallway. "We'll see ourselves out. Thankyou for agreeing to see us.
Tell Hannah we'll speak to her again."

He grabbed their coats from the hall cupboard as they left, throwing
them into the back seat of the rental car.

"Mulder, did you see those wounds?"

"I saw them," he said grimly.

"They were identical to the gashes I found on Christina's back, only
totally healed."

"I know."

"Do you understand what this means?" She turned in her seat and
watched him. "The severe mental instability, the petit mal seizure,
the scars-"

"Scully-"

"Peta Winslow may be right. That family..."

he began to fossick around in his pockets until he found a folded
sheet of paper.

"What's this?," she asked curiously, taking it.

"You tell me," he replied, his eyes still on the road.

She unfolded it, smoothing the creases with her fingers as she stared
uncomprehendingly at it. A list of assorted herbs and plants, a small
number of directions. Then it struck her. "The herbal concoction
toxicology pulled up."

He nodded, his jaw set. "Your "potion"."

She looked at the spidery writing. "Where did you get this?"

"Eilian George's recipie book," he replied.

"Love potion?," she asked lightly.

He chuckled. "I tore it out when Kate had her seizure."

She folded the sheet up again, tucking it in her jacket for
safekeeping. "It all adds up, Mulder. Kate Winslow. She's obviously,
uh-"

"Not all there," he supplied.

She nodded. "Something has triggered something in her head. Someone,
maybe. Her mother. She takes the kids to the forest, reenacts whatever
happened to her when she got those scars and then drowns them."

He shook his head. "Scully, do you honestly believe that woman, Kate
Winslow, could do that?"

"MPD, Mulder. Multiple personalities. It would explain the seizure.
The erratic behaviour."

"No." He cut her off. "That woman is a physical and emotional wreck."

"That only promotes my point," she moved her hands emphatically.
"She's right next to the forest, her behaviour is strange to say the
very least, she has access to Eilian's spell book-"

"It's not her."

"The coincidence with Hannah is too much. There was no struggle,
whoever killed these kids knew them."

He shook his head again, firmer this time. "By your reasoning it could
very well be Eilian herself."

"What about the gashes on Kate's back?," she asked him.

He shrugged. "Old wounds, Scully. You said so yourself. She might not
even know she has them."

She laughed incredulously. "They're on her own back, Mulder. A person
knows their own body."

He looked at her, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I don't
know about my own, but I know every line and curve of yours."

She glanced at him, then looked quickly away.

Silence.

"Do you have a theory?," she finally asked.

He grinned lopsidedly. "You won't like it."

"Do I ever?," she shot back.

"Faeries." He waited for her reaction.

Scully pondered this for a moment. "Tell me you didn't just say
"faeries"."

He was silent.

She sighed, let her head rest against the seat for a moment. "I think
the fresh country air has gone to your head."

"Something has," he suggested softly.

She let his words warm her for only a moment. "Can we keep our minds
on the case, please?"

he chuckled and pulled into the Hotel carpark. "We're meeting for
lunch, can you wait until then?"

She stopped him on the stairs leading up to the hotel. "Mulder, wait."

He turned towards her.

"About last night."

He felt his heart stop, but he fought to keep the pain from
registering on his face. "Last night?," he asked carefully.

She swallowed, looked away, then met his eyes again. "I'd like us to
start again."

For a moment he could say nothing, just stood studying her face, the
perfect, pale features, the burnished copper hair, the eyes that
looked past the barriers into his soul. "I love you."

She smiled.

He found the expression exquisitely breathtaking and he took another
step closer. She ducked her head, but he caught her chin in his hand
and brought her face to his own...

"Fox! Dana!"

She jerked back in surprise and Mulder groaned, softly murmuring in
her ear, "I'm going to have to kill him."

"You'll have to beat me to it."

                                 ***
End of part 15, continued in part 16


Faeries part 16 by The Pen and The Brain.
For disclaimer, see part 15.

***
"Faeries?"  Alec repeated the word with a grin.

Mulder just nodded.

Alec turned the grin on Scully. "He thinks faeries have been killing
children?"

One corner of her mouth twitched up in a brief smile, otherwise she
made no response.

Alec shook his head, his grin fading. "Mulder, there are no such
things as faeries."

"How do you know?," he asked calmly.

Alec frowned. "I've never seen one."

"Have you seen the Pope?"

"No."

Mulder shrugged. "So, how do you know he's real?"

Alec gave a short bark of laughter. "Other people have seen him. No-
one's ever seen a faery."

Mulder smiled. "You haven't been speaking to Eilian George."

Alec let his head fall back again and he stared at the ceiling for a
moment, before looking to Scully again. "*You* can't believe him,
*Doctor* Scully."

"It's a theory," she replied after  small pause.

Alec stared at her incredulously, then turned to Mulder. "Jesus,
you've got her well-trained, don't you?"

Mulder glared at him, one hand automatically to touch her arm. She was
stiff with indignation, her jaw set, her eyes furious. "Listen, Alec-"

"Alright, sorry. Point taken." He lifted his hands to placate them. "I
just find it incredible that *you*, Dana, a *doctor* would let your
personal feelings prejudice your opinions on this matter."

Scully's eyes narrowed. "What are you suggesting?"

"You have a scientific mind, Agent Scully. You know that what he
believes is ridiculous."

Her expression grew more dangerous. "What he *believes*?"

"*Faeries*, Dana? The little people. Tuatha De Danaan. Daonie Sidhe."

"The legends had to come from somewhere, Alec," Mulder finally spoke
up.

Alec didn't respond, but sat silently, watching the two of them
closely. After a long pause he sighed and stood up. "All right. Well,
I can only hope that this...theory doesn't lead to more deaths,
Mulder." With that he left.

Silence fell over the small table, Scully calmly buttering a slice of
bread, Mulder staring at his own fingers plucking at the chequered
material of the table. Finally he looked up.

"So, did you buy that Myths and Legends book?"

Scully looked puzzled and frowned slightly at him. "It's upstairs in
my suitcase. Why?"

He folded his napkin up and placed it on the table beside his plate.
"I want to find some basis for my theory," he replied with a half
grin.

She raised her eyebrow and pursed her lips. "In a book of myths?"

His grin grew wider. "Bear with me here, Dana. If we find an old
legend that concurs with the current happenings, it proves-"

"It proves we have a suspect taking advantage of local history."

His smile didn't falter. "Do you have a better idea?"

Her lips curved up in a dangerous expression, her eyes alight with
suggestiveness. "Perhaps."

He tried to mask a chuckle. "Can we keep our minds on the case,
please?"

"Maybe we should have a look around the forest," she suggested.

He grimaced. "Maybe."

She raised an eyebrow, waiting. "But?"

Shrugging, he stood up. "Alec and his team have been through the
forest with a fine tooth comb. They didn't bring anything up."

"Maybe they weren't looking for the right thing," she replied as she
also stood.

He looked down at her, astonishment in his eyes. "Are you implying
that my theory is correct, Scully?"

She just looked at him, a gentle smile playing at the corners of her
lips.

"Silly question," he relented. "The book was in your suitcase, you
said?"

                                 ***

Dusk was at the window, turning the sea black and covering the bay
with shadows. Scully uncurled herself from the couch, stretched and
pulled the blinds down on the frosted panes. Mulder muttered something
incoherent and she flicked on the overhead light. He was sprawled
across an easy chair, "Myths and Legends of Cornwall" less than an
inch from his nose.

She stood behind him and, taking his head in her hands, tipped his
face back to her. "You'll ruin your eyesight."

He turned his head, kissed the centre of her palm and put the book
down on his lap. "Is Alec meeting us for dinner?"

She shook her head and returned to the couch, packing the papers
strewn on the floor into a manilla folder. "He's got two men keeping
surveillance on the lake."

Mulder sat upright. "Another one's gone missing?"

She shook her head again. "It's better to be safe than sorry," she
said by way of reply.

He grinned as he came up behind her. "That's always been Alec's
credo." He took her armful of papers and trailed after her into her
room. She closed the blind in there as well, shivering as she felt the
cold radiating off the panes. She switched on the bedside lights to
banish the shadows and the filtered light gave the room a cosy feel.

Mulder had flopped down on the bed and was resting his head on his
hands, her files forgotten beside him on the covers. She smiled
slightly at the sight of him and moved to kneel beside him, her hands
on his shoulders kneading away the tension.

He sighed and leant back against her. "I'm not making any sense out of
the case," he said drowsily. His eyelids fluttered as her strong
fingers hit an especially sore spot. "I'm stumped."

He heard her chuckle. "I never thought I'd see the day..."

he let himself relax further into her touch. "I've had a mental
block."

She brushed his forehead with her lips. "At least no-one's gone missing
since we've been here."

"That's something," he agreed. "We haven't got much time left,
though."

He felt her nod her head as she sat down.

"It's been three days," he continued, "and we're still no closer to
solving the case than we were back in Washington."

"Don't get discouraged," she said.

"I'm not getting discouraged," he replied. "I'm getting frustrated."

"Don't get frustrated either," she said, letting her lips graze his
cheek.

He opened his eyes and met her gaze. "You're trying to distract me."

"Damn right." She leant forward again, kissed his temple.

A rough chuckle escaped his lips. "It's working." The words were
barely out before he sealed their mouths.

She shifted to increase the pressure of her lips, letting one hand
rest on his jaw, the other on his knee. She felt one arm go about her
waist, pulling her closer, until she could feel the rapid rise and
fall of his chest.

His hand was creeping up under her shirt when there came a loud
knocking on the door.

She began to laugh, smothering the sound in the crook of his shoulder.

"Was that the door?," Mulder growled.

The second round of knocking precluded her reply, followed closely by
a male voice calling, "Doctor Scully?"

Scully pulled out of her partner's arms. "It's Aaron."

"Aaron?," Mulder repeated incredulously.

"Doctor Aaron Carter," she replied, "from Penzance Hospital."

Another muffled cry outside the door. "Dana!"

Mulder sat up straighter. "He calls you Dana?"

"I gave him my name-"

"You *let* him call you Dana?"

"Let me just get the door, Mulder."

"Fox."

She let a smile pass briefly over her lips. "Fox. It won't take long."

"Shouldn't I meet him?"

"I don't think your existence is a blow he can handle right now," she
responded. "I'll only be a moment."

"I'll be here," he replied, only a glitter of humour in his eyes
lightening the tone of his voice.

Scully smoothed her hair, gave herself a moment to recover her
equilibrium and opened the door.

Aaron Carter lounged casually in the doorway, a dogeared pile of
papers under one arm, the other hugging a bottle of some description
to his chest. Scully sighed inwardly.

"You didn't call, so I thought I'd drop by," he purred, unabashedly
looking her over, taking in the crumpled slacks and the blouse, loose
at the neck and pulled from her waistband. "The woman at the desk said
that you were up here. Obviously you weren't expecting tonight."

"No," she replied, motioning a hand at his attire, a well-pressed suit
and dress suit. "I left my cocktail dress at home."

He gave her a lascivious grin. "And where's home for you, Dana?"

"Elsewhere," she said curtly. "Are those my reports?"

"I thought we could go through them over dinner," he suggested with a
leer.

"Dinner," she repeated flatly.

Uninvited, he brushed past her into the main room and took a seat on
the couch. "For two. Do you have any candles?"

She sighed and swung the door shut, realising that she wasn't going to
get rid of him as easily as she had hoped to. "Dr. Carter-"

"Please," he interrupted her," Call me Aaron."

"On a professional basis I'd prefer not to," she replied.

He stood up again, leaving the files and the bottle on the coffee
table and crossed the room towards her. "Who says I'm here on a
strictly professional basis, Dana?"

She swallowed, disliking his invasion on her personal space.

"Dana?" His face loomed closer and with a jerk she pulled back, her
hand automatically going to her hip to reach for her gun, which was,
of course, not there.

"Back off," she warned him.

Instead he moved closer. "You've been sending out signals. Don"t
pretend you haven't."

He was a tall man, bulky if not muscular. She didn't she'd be able to
push him away. She could strike him, but she thought he'd react like
a wounded bear and she didn't like her chances if he started a brawl.
Where the hell was Mulder?

Behind Aaron came a polite throat clearing. The doctor turned and saw
Mulder standing in the centre of the room, hands on his hips.

Aaron stood back from Dana. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise you had
company."

"Apparently," said Mulder in his monotone voice.

Dana crossed the room to her partner, and picked up the files from the
coffee table. Mulder gently touched her arm, murmuring "Are you O.K.?"
When she nodded he turned his attention back to the other man, letting
the anger and possessiveness flare in his eyes.

The blond man met his glare and sneered.

Mulder smiled pleasantly. "I'm Agent Mulder. Dana's...partner."

Aaron barely acknowledged the careful pause and he didn't take his
eyes off Scully, now sitting on the couch paging through the files.
Aaron looked increasingly frustrated. "What exactly are you looking
for?"

She didn't react to the petty tone of his voice. "A link, Dr. Carter."

"Aaron," he muttered, shooting Mulder a wary look. "What sort of
link?"

With a sigh Scully put the files down. "I don't know. That's why I
asked you for the reports." She dropped them on the coffee table.
"These are not complete."

Aaron frowned. "Yes they are."

"No," Scully said. "They're not. I asked for full blood work,
toxicology, any surface wounds. Everything."

Aaron gestured pathetically at the papers. "This *is* everything."

"For three of the murders, Doctor. I need more. Where are the others?"

Aaron shifted uncomfortably, his gaze flicking from Dana to her
partner. "They're in my car."

Scully glanced quickly at Mulder who had choked back something that
sounded suspiciously like a laugh. "Why don't you get them?," she
suggested sweetly. "Mulder and I will meet you downstairs in the bar."

Reluctantly Aaron nodded and left the room. Mulder heard him cursing
quietly to himself as he stomped down the stairs. Dana's shoulders
started to shake, he face hidden. It took him a moment to realise she
was trying to suppress her laughter. He extended his hand to help her
up. "Can you believe that guy? Is he really a doctor?"

She grinned in response. "I'm wondering the very same thing."

He picked up the sheaf of papers. "Is there anything in here?"

She shook her head. "No. These are the autopsies for Janet, Henry and
Christina. The first murder, for which there was no thorough autopsy.
And the last two-"

"Both of which you already know off by heart," he completed.

"No gashes," she said. "Except for Christina."

Mulder sighed. "Okay...well, let's work around the only link we have."

"Hannah."

"Exactly." He walked to the door, then back to the couch again and
perched on the armrest. "What if Hannah's the one?"

"The one what?"

"The one the murderer wants," said Mulder. "What if the others have
been accidents. Wrong place at the wrong time. Or they're mistaken for
Hannah."

Scully frowned a little. "Assuming this is correct, most of the
victims look nothing like Hannah, save Bethany who had red hair. Two
of them were boys, Mulder. Unless the murderer is blind..."

He nodded, accepting her point. "Well, what if the murderer is a hired
assassin? Given very vague directions as to which child to kill-"

She cut him off. "Who would have an assassin to kill little Hannah
Winslow?"

He shrugged. "It's just a theory."

"And where do the gashes come in?"

He shrugged again. "I don't know. We don't even know if the gashes are
a common factor."

She just watched him for a moment, then, with a shake of her head she
said, "I think you're reaching." She stood up and walked to the door,
where she paused. "At least you've given up your 'faery' theory."

"Anything to please you," he replied with a secret smile.

                                 ***

Faeries, end of part 16, continued in part 17



The remaining files provided Scully no further 
enlightenment. Obscure comments like "deep scratches" and 
"unidentifiable wounds" meant that she had no real way of 
telling whether or not the other children bore Christina's 
gashes. Scully had no doubt Dr. Call-me-Aaron Carter had
performed the autopsies, but she had no great desire to talk to 
him again, anyway. Two hours over dinner with the man and 
Mulder had been near homicidal. Besides, she reasoned, it 
was a lousy lead anyway. The wounds on Christina's back 
were nearly healed-she had incurred them, almost certainly, a 
very great time before she disappeared.

Mulder had gone to bed early, professing the onset of a nasty
headache, but Scully was still awake, sitting up on the hotel 
bed with her back to the wall and her legs stretched out before 
her. Wearily she glanced at her wrist watch. 2 AM. All noise 
had ceased from Mulder's room over an hour ago and she 
knew if she didn't follow suit she'd be useless in the morning. 
Useless and crabby and nasty.

At this point in time she didn't much care. Still, with another 
sigh she flipped the light off and sank into the mattress of the 
bed, willing her mind to shut down long enough to afford her 
at least four hours of sleep. Unbidden thoughts of Melissa 
came to her head, as they often did at times like this. She had 
never been particularly close to her sister. They'd been too 
different to see eye to eye, the bond that held them as children 
growing weaker when as adults they'd gone their very 
seperate ways. Yet in the months between Dana's mysterious 
disappearance and her sister's death, they'd found each
other again. And learnt to respect the other's differences.

*People do not have to be identical to be close to each other*, 
Dana realised. *Mulder and I are living testament to that*. 
"You and Fox have hold of two different ends of the same 
stick," her mother had once told her. Melissa had made the 
same comment a few weeks later, adding, "The result is the 
magnetism you both feel, Dana. The electricity."

Scully had laughed, regarding it as a light-hearted joke, but 
now she had to question her own response. Being close to her 
partner. A look. A touch. The smallest smile could leave her 
breathless. But she realised the response was not so much a 
physical reaction as a mental one. She knew that he was an 
attractive man. Saw the effect his intense looks and sculpted 
physique had on other women. Saw too often the longing 
gazes or forward passes they'd made at him. But she'd
always tried to look further. Beyond the shell into the soul. 
And somehow-before Mulder-she'd never been satisfied. 
Mulder's intelligence shone from his eyes, his devotion and 
his dedication evident. He was strong and stubborn and often 
frighteningly intense. His emotions he hid carefully behind a 
barrier, a wall which had only crumbled once or twice before 
her. "He's right on the edge," Melissa had once said. "And 
you find that wildly exciting." *Do I?* Dana wondered. *Is 
this...attraction I feel merely a psychological rebelling against 
the more in control man? The more safe man? Bryan,
for instance*.

"Go with it," Mulder would have said. "Trust your heart." 
Dana sighed again, rolling over onto her side and staring at 
the glowing digital clock. Two-forty-five A.M. She *really* 
needed to get to sleep. 

                                 ***

"I looked into the Winslow family, like you asked me to, 
Fox," Alec was saying.

Mulder looked up from his lunch, a thick vegetable soup, 
laced with what he was pretty sure was an illegal amount of 
parsley as a garnish. With a grimace he pulled yet another 
green stalk from between his lips and added it to the 
increasing damp pile on his side plate.

"I *said*-" Alec began.

"I heard," Mulder cut in impatiently. "Did you pull anything 
up?"

Alec looked smug. "I did." With a self-satisfied grin he 
deposited a thin, yellowing folder on the table. Mulder just 
looked at it until Alec's enthusiasm overcame him. As usual it 
didn't take long.

"Eilian George's husband-Walter George-was the head of 
police in this neck of the woods."

Mulder's eyebrow barely twitched. "And...?"

"*And* in this report he declared his daughter was 
kidnapped."

Scully looked to Mulder, then back at Alec. "Kate's sister?"

"Kate," said Alec.

Mulder shrugged. "So she was returned. What does this have 
to do with this case?"

"No," said Alec, "apparently she wasn't returned."

Scully looked startled. "But we just saw-"

"Apparently, she was "exchanged"."

The pieces fell into place with Mulder and he sat upright 
from his slouch.

Scully looked even more confused. "I don't understand."

"The Kate Winslow you met yesterday is *not* the Kate 
Winslow Eilian George gave birth to."

"A changeling," said Mulder.

"That's ridiculous," said Scully, glaring at Mulder for a 
moment.

Alec shook his head quickly. "No, Dana, there are marked 
differences. Change of eye colour, temperament-"

"-Alec-"

"The sudden inexplicable appearance of two gashes on the 
child's back."

That brought her up short. "Inexplicable?"

"They were fresh wounds. But they didn't bleed."

"How could that be?"

Alec shrugged, a shadow of a smile still on his lips. "No-one 
knows.Eilian George reported a light-"

Mulder's eyes widened. "She was there? She saw it happen?"

Scully shook her head. "You'll have to disregard her account, 
Mulder. You saw the woman, she's a mess."

"You would have been too if your daughter had been 
kidnapped right before your eyes," he retorted.

"She *wasn't* kidnapped," Scully insisted. "We know this. 
We met the woman yesterday."

"Barely."

She sighed. "So what exactly are you suggesting happened 
that night? Faeries came through the window of Kate 
Winslow's bedroom, spirited her away and left a faery baby, a 
changeling, in her place?"

"It would explain the scars," he replied.

"Why?"

"Think about it, Scully."

She did for a moment, then stared incredulously at her 
partner. "Removal of faery wings?!"

"You said it."

She shook her head vehemently. "No."

"It's a reasonable scenario."

Her eyes widened, then narrowed at him. "I have a *more* 
reasonable scenario. Eilian George- for whatever reason- 
hurts the baby. Fearing permanent damage she slices the 
infant's back and makes up this ridiculous story about a faery 
raid."

Mulder flicked open the file and jabbed at the report. 
"'Marked Differences.'"

She didn't look at the folder, responding only, "Physical 
trauma.'

'Why make up a faery story, Dana?," he asked. "Why 
something so implausible if it wasn't untrue?"

"You know how superstitious these little towns are. She was 
preying on-"

"Excuse me," Alec cut in.

Scully and Mulder both looked at him, surprised, almost as if 
they had forgotten his prescence.

"Eilian George wouldn't make light of the legends, Dana."

She said nothing, realising that she was right.

"What we have to do is find the connection between Kate's 
abduction and these murders."

Mulder thought for a moment, tapping the handle of his 
spoon on the table. "They want their changeling back."

"Who?"

"The Daoine Sidhe."

Scully bit her lip. "So why are they going after the children? 
Why not Kate?"

"They're going after Hannah. We ascertained that yesterday," 
Mulder said.

She shrugged. "Well, why go after Hannah, then?"

"I should think that the "little people" would have a poor 
sense of time, so they're trying to take the young child instead 
of the adult."

Scully suddenly smiled, amusement sparkling in her blue 
eyes.

Mulder stopped. "What?"

"I can't believe I'm listening to this," she said. "I can't believe
it's making sense."

He grinned back at her. "Maybe the fresh country air has 
gone to your head."

"*Def*initely."

Alec looked from one to the other, a bemused expression on 
his face, seemed about to comment, then changed his mind.

Suddenly a young man entered the room where they were 

eating lunch, He was wearing a navy jacket and his dark hair 
was damp and mussed. Mulder recognised him as one of the 
policemen Alec had commissioned.

"Sir...s" he said as he reached them. Then stopped and added 
a stammering "Ma'am."

Alec sighed. "What is it, Jonas?"

"Another one's gone missing."

Alec looked shocked. "Another child? How? We had such 
extreme precautions!"

"When did this happen?," Scully asked the young policeman.

Jonas looked even more flustered. "Several hours ago, 
ma'am."

Alec flushed with anger. "And you're only just reporting to us 
now?"

Shuffling for a moment before he answered, Jonas shot 
Mulder the look of a small animal caught in a trap. "Umm, 
the grandmother reported it to us when her daughter came 
back, but we thought, kids being kids-"

"You thought she'd just run off to play," Mulder supplied.

Scully touched his hand under the table and he glanced at her
gratefully. She transferred her gaze to the officer. "It was 
Hannah Winslow."

"Yes," he said, obviously surprised.

Alec's eyebrows shot up. "How did you-?"

"Have you searched the town?," asked Mulder.

"I've had five men scouring the town since Eilian George 
came to us. Nothing."

Scully heard Mulder heave a sigh, his fingers tightened 
around hers for a moment.

"What about Kate, the mother? If they left the house 
together..."

Jonas shook his head. "She won't speak."

Scully frowned, puzzled. "Won't? I don't think I understand. 
Doesn't she want to find her daughter?"

"Mrs. George said that she just fell through the door-alone-
and hasn't reacted since."

"Have you seen her?," Scully asked.

"We went to speak to her first thing. She wasn't there."

Mulder cocked his head. "How do you mean, "not there"?"

"She just sat," the young policeman replied. "Her eyes were 
all glazed and she just sat and stared out the window. I don't 
think she even knew we were there."

"Sounds like shock," Scully said quietly to Mulder.

"From what?" he murmured back.

She shrugged in response, her eyes worried.

Mulder shook his head, standing up from the table and 
extending a hand to Scully to help her do likewise. "Alec, 
keep an eye out on the lake. Scully and I will go speak to 
Eilian George."

"Again," Scully added without a smile.

Alec shook his head. "No. This time I'm coming with you. 
This is my investigation."

Mulder shrugged. "Suit yourself." He took Scully's arm and 
led her out to the car while Alec paid for the meal. He let his 
hand drift from her elbow to her shoulder, her throat, tracing 
a line across her jaw. "This sort of thing should never 
happen," he replied.

She turned her face into the gentle caress, her eyes seeking 
his. "Are you okay?"

He nodded slightly, his thumb tracing her lower lip. "I'm 
coping. It's just...hard"

"I know," she replied, her breath warm on his fingers.

"All right," said Alec from behind them, his voice forced and 
overly loud. "Let's get this show on the road, eh?"

Mulder grimaced, recognising his friend's phenomenal lack 
of tact. He let his hand drop from Scully's face, fingers 
catching on the ribbon around her neck as if by accident, the 
teasing glide of his fingers against her softness as arousing as 
it was brief. Her breath caught imperceptibly, her eyes turning 
a shade darker and she hurried to hide the passion from Alec 
by ducking into the car, pulling her coat after her and 
shutting the door.

                                 ***


Faeries, part 17, continued in part 18


Faeries, part 18, by The Pen and The Brain.
For disclaimer see part 1.

"Let me get this straight," Alec was saying as he slid into the
driver's seat. "When you spoke to Kate Winslow she was 
lucid."

"Barely," Mulder replied.

"What was the daughter like?"

"Down-to-earth. Very mature. Unusual," Mulder said. "The 
whole family is unusual."

"Eilian vaccilated between the two extremes possible for a
personality. Kate drifted in and out of our conversation, then 
had a fit and threw up and Hannah started quoting 
prophesies," Scully said.

Mulder's eyes met hers in the rear vision mirror. 
"Prophesies?"

She met his gaze in the mirror and felt the blood rise to her 
face, remembering the young girl's words. *He's in your heart 
and mind*. She transferred her gaze to Alec, then back to her 
partner. His mouth opened in a silent "Oh." She grinned her 
reply then looked down quickly as Alec looked over his 
shoulder at her.

"She knew she was the next victim?," Alec asked her.

Mulder answered for her. "She thought someone was 
following her."

"Who?"

"Faeries."

Scully shook her head. "Mulder, that was Eilian speaking. 
She's been fed those legends from birth."

"Faeries?," Alec repeated. "Fox, you're not suggesting faeries 
again?"

Mulder stiffened. "I'm just repeating what the girl told us."

Scully sat forward in her seat, letting her chin rest near 
Mulder's shoulder, hoping her prescense would help to calm 
his agitation.

Alec let the silence sit in the car for a moment while he 
ruminated, then, "Had she seen these..faeries?"

"I got the impression that she hadn't," Scully replied.

"Eilian told us what to look for, though," Mulder added.

Alec raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

Mulder hid his quick grin. "Small in stature, red hair, pale 
skin."

Alec smothered a chuckle. "Well it seems we need look no 
further, our murder suspect is closer than we thought."

Scully responded with a light-hearted glare.

"I don't know," Mulder murmured. "She said nothing about 
the most beautiful blue eyes on the planet."

She couldn't repress a slight smile and she reached up, 
touched the back of his neck, a feathery caress.

He released an almost imperceptible gasp and broke eye 
contact, fastening his gaze on the rutted road.

She quickly his her groin and sat back in her seat again.

"Here we are," said Mulder in a strangled voice.

Alec looked at him curiously. "Are you all right?"

Mulder nodded, using the excuse of unfaltering his seat belt 
to avert his eyes from his friend's.

Alec glanced back at Scully, puzzled, and she shrugged.

Eilian let them in without a word this time, just stood silently 
as Mulder introduced Alec, then let them into the kitchen. 
The rowan was even more prevalent in the old house as it had 
been the last time, the red berries studding every corner, every 
surface, the scent of the leaves heavy and cloying. Alec shot 
Mulder a curious look, but Mulder's attention was elsewhere.

In the midst of the chaos of vegetation a man was sitting at 
the kitchen table, his head in his hands. He had looked up 
when the agents entered the room, his brown eyes bloodshot.

Alec ducked his head for a moment as if in deference to the 
man's grief. "I'm sorry, James."

The man nodded, bit his lip and rubbed a fist across his eyes, 
trying to erase the last remnants of tears. Scully felt 
immediately sorry for the man.

Taking a deep albeit tremulous breath breath Alec introduced 
Mulder and Scully to the man, James Winslow. Hannah's 
father.

"Is there any news?," he finally asked. Mulder noticed how 
carefully neutral the man's voice was. He wasn't allowing 
himself to hope, unsure of whether he could deal with 
disappointment.

"I'm sorry, sir," said Scully gently. "We've heard nothing. We 
have full surveillance on the lake and officers sweeping the 
town-"

"There's still a chance she's just wandered off," Mulder said.

"Hannah doesn't wander," James said. "Especially not now."

"Well, we're doing all we can," Alec said in a comforting 
voice. "We all want to see Hannah returned."

"The real Hannah," said Eilian ominously from the doorway.

James sprang up from his chair, anger replacing the misery in 
his eyes. "Don't start that with me again Eilian!," he snarled, 
furious. "Don't you dare! Not with Kate. Not with Hannah."

Stunned by the force of his rage, Scully took an involuntary 
step back. She felt Mulder's steadying hand on her shoulder 
and realised that even there, in Eilian George's kitchen, his 
touch could cause tingles of sensation in the depths of her 
stomach.

Eilian remained unmoved. "Denying it will not make it 
unhappen, James."

He flung himself back into his chair. "Jesus."

"They've taken her into the forest," Eilian said. "You won't 
find her in town."

"I agree," said Mulder calmly.

James looked shocked. "You don't! You *can't*. There's 
nothing in the forest."

"Maybe," said Mulder, doubtfully.

James smacked his hand against the table, making Alec jump.
"Goddamnit! How am I expected to find my daughter if 
everyone thinks she's been taken by faeries?"

Scully cleared her throat. "Mr. Winslow I agree, to the point 
that the best place to look for Hannah would be the forest. 
Our men have scoured the town and experience tells us that 
the children are not being held in the town. The forest would 
provide cover for whoever has been taking the children."

Scully's words seemed to calm the man and he looked 
helplessly up at her. "Please, Ms. Scully. I love my daughter."

"We'll get her back," Scully reassured him.

Mulder just watched her.

In the other room Kate just rocked in her chair, staring out 
the window with unseeing eyes. James looked at her for a 
moment then wrenched his eyes away. "I want my wife back 
as well."

Alec nodded in understanding. "Can we speak to her? Just for 
a moment?"

James looked distraught. "You can try, but I don't know if 
she'll respond. She hasn't spoken since she got back." He 
gestured to her as he stood. "We tried to get her to show us 
where Hannah was taken, but she wouldn't  budge."

"She doesn't think she can reach Hannah on this plain of 
existence," suggested Mulder.

James looked even more downcast. "I think Kate is on a plain 
of existence all of her own..."

Scully patted the man's arm as she moved past him and he 
looked to her gratefully, tears shining in his eyes again.

"Kate?," Alec asked the woman gently.

She didn't respond, not even a flicker of reaction in her deep, 
glazed green eyes.

"I'm Inspector Alec Stephens. I'm here to find your daughter."

Scully looked from Alec, his handsome face gentle and 
relaxed, to Kate, rigid, rocking slightly in her seat. "I'd like to 
get her to a hospital," she said quietly.

"No," James said vehemently. "No hospitals."

Scully turned to him. "Sir, your wife is not well. She's 
bordering on catatonic. She's suffering from shock, which can 
very easily slide into clinical depression or post-traumatic 
stress syndrome. We need to get her into an environment 
where we can watch her."

"No," he repeated insistently.

She tried again. "I don't think you understand how serious 
your wife's condition is, Mr. Winslow-"

"I said *no*!"

She sighed and Mulder touched her arm. "Kate would 
probably be more comfortable in familiar surroundings," he 
said.

"Well at least let me request a home-stay nurse..."

"No nurses," James Winslow said. "I'll watch her. I don't need 
any strangers by her bed."

Scully started to protest but Mulder stopped her with a look,
remembering his own days in the hospital by her side. 
Distrusting every nurse, every doctor in the room. He saw her 
eyes soften, realised she had, once again, understood him.

"Well, at least let me check on her," she said finally, tearing 
her gaze away from his.

James looked warily from the red-haired agent to his wife, 
still silent, rocking in her chair. "Check on her...make sure 
she doesn't hurt herself. Make her better."

"I'll try," she replied, grateful for at least this small 
allowance.

"We'd better go," said Alec from his place by Kate's side. He
straightened and automatically smoothed his jacket into 
place. "I'll meet you at the car."

Mulder nodded and Scully began leaving instructions for 
James. "Try to coax Kate into performing her usual everyday 
routines. Eating, sleeping, getting dressed, etcetera. Make 
sure she stays warm, try not to let her go outside without 
someone to watch her."

James just nodded mechanically, processing the information.

"Here's my card, call me if you have any problems, or if 
there's any change. *Any* change," she repeated more firmly. 
"If she speaks, if she reacts at all, I want to know about it." 
She was sure that James would follow her instructions to the 
letter, but she was still thankful for Mulder's steadying hand 
in the small of her back as she guided her into the lobby.

She was pulling her coat on, fastening the buttons with her 
fingers that refused to stop trembling when he spoke up 
behind her.

"Let me."

She started to turn around, but his arms came around her 
shoulders, fastening the buttons for her. She closed her eyes 
and let herself lean back into him, a shaky sigh escaping from 
her lips. He finished the buttons, but let her stand there, his 
arms still around her.

"You did the right thing, Scully, no matter what you think." 
His voice at her ear was little more than a husky whisper.

"I know that," she replied, just as quietly. "So why do I feel 
I've just let them down? She *should* be in a hospital, 
Mulder..."

She felt him shake his head, felt his arms tighten around her 
for a moment, then he released her and pushed her gently 
forward out the door.

                                 ***
Continued, eventually, in part 19.
                ***


Faeries  part nineteen, and we've hit the home stretch.

Disclaimer: You ought to know the drill by now.

"Faeries" (an epic) by The Pen and The Brain.
               ===>, {*}
Any requests, queries, comments and recipes for brownies 
(I'm totally serious here) can be sent to me - The Pen - at 
ThePen@hotmail.com. I love getting mail and I'll reply as 
soon as I'm able. You can flame me too, if you like. It shows 
that you care.

***


"Mama"

Kate could feel Hannah at the edge of her conciousness. A 
bright spark that flickered and faded spasmodically as it 
fought to hold sway over the powers wrangling for control.

The shield  that seperated her from her daughter - from her 
world - was like a sheer curtain, showing enough of the other 
side to make her ache, but not enough to center on the 
location. She couldn't let go of her daughter. If she surfaced, 
even for a moment, she would lose her in the dim shadows of 
memory. So she held the tenuous contact and trusted James 
and her own "mother" to watch her corporeal body.

Hannah cried out again, in fear, not pain and Kate tried to 
send love and calm to the child, the same way she had during 
the trauma of birth. She was rapidly losing contact with her 
daughter. Unless she managed to get closer to the 
transference point she would lose all bond.

She felt James fussing around her physical self, gentle hands 
smoothing her hair, guiding her up the stairs to her bedroom, 
his quiet voice murmuring words which held no meaning for 
her. Dimly she felt the hard wood of the hallway turn to the 
plush softness of the carpet, then the cold, crisp sheets of the 
bed.

Silence. Then the muffled sobs as James began to cry. She felt 
the tendrils of agony crawling around the room, staining the 
wallpaper with pain. She felt sting of sorrow burrow into her 
heart like a thorn, but her concern for him was overshadowed 
by her longing for her daughter. Hannah would be so scared.

***

and the colours were too bright and the sounds were too loud 
and mama mama and the pain was with her diminished 
because of the distance. daddy. da. i'm so scared. and the 
hands were touching and they moved through her flesh like 
liquid and she could sense christina here. and joshua here and 
she was screaming as the air swallowed her like water.

***



James was woken by the scream of his wife. He sat bolt 
upright  and reached for across the fathomless distance of the 
bed and snatched at her hand. It was slippery with fear, so 
wet that it slid from his grasp as she lunged out of the bed, 
the nightdress plastered to her body. Her face sheened with 
perspiration was as white as bone and her eyes burned dark 
holes into the blank mask of her expression. The bed was 
damp as he clambered over her side to catch her before she 
reached the door. Too late she was gone and as he tried to 
follow her the doorhandle stuck in his hand, refusing to turn, 
refusing to budge.

"Kate!" he yelled desperately the name burning at the back of 
his throat and the sound of his voice wrapped in cottonwool. 
And the door was jammed, the metal buring with cold in his 
hand. 

He sank first to his knees, his dry palms dragging down the 
wooden door. Then to his stomach, his head hitting the frame 
and the slow ooze of blood from his temple soothing the 
terror. And as the world turned first grey then black he heard 
the latch click in the door and it swung slightly open stopping 
against his hip.

***

"What's the time?"

Mulder turned to his partner, "Just after nine," he said 
quietly, noting the dark shadows under her eyes. She hadn't 
slept last night. "We don't have to be here." He touched her 
hand under the table, felt her fingers tangle with his as she 
returned the gesture. "This is Alec's case."

"We have to stay."

"Surveillance details, Scully. I'm sure Alec wouldn't mind if 
we caught an early night."

She shook her head minutely, keeping her eyes ahead.

Alec had called his men into a meeting at eight to run 
through surveillance, they had dragged themselves back 
looking exhausted and depressed. The search through the 
town had been - as Eilian had predicted - useless. As was 
the scouring of the surrounding woods.

The narrow fluorescent lit room made everyone look grey and 
sapped of energy. Even Mulder slouched next to Scully in a 
wooden chair, his fingernails scoring the scarred table top.

Another of the officers - Danny, she thought - was saying: 
"Tommy's still out by the lake, I'm relieving him at 
midnight"...

Mulder leant closer again. "We could be doing something so 
much more... productive."

She shot him a look and he ventured a smile, a barely veilled 
challenge. She felt her breath quicken and she steadied it 
with an effort, suddenly aware of the silence that had 
descended on the table. She wrenched her gaze away from his 
hypnotising dark eyes and fastened them instead on the blank 
notepad placed on the table before her.

Alec was watching them curiously. "Fox, would you care to 
share?"

Mulder looked up at his friend, "How many officers did you 
say you wanted stationed around the lake?" he asked.

Alec looked slightly puzzled. "I didn't, but now that you 
bring it up, I want six men on surveillance."

Mulder shook his head descisivly. "Scully and I were just 
debating the wisdom of putting so many people out."

Alec raised his eyebrows. "Do you want to catch this guy?"

He shrugged in reply. "Do you want to scare him into finding 
a new place to drop the bodies?"

Sighing, Alec sat back in his chair and dropped his pen on the
table. "So what are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting that we abort this meeting, send out general 
surveillance - two men. And start out fresh in the morning."

Alec quirked an eyebrow. "Are you pushing for an early 
night, Fox?"

Mulder flashed a grin. "The sooner we get to bed, the better," 
he replied with a wry twist of his lips.

A ragged cheer went up.

Alec ran a hand through his hair, defeated. "All right. 
Ummm. We're all exhausted, so let's call it a day and meet 
again tommorow at eight-thirty."

Most of the officers were standing even before he finished 
speaking, and they filed out of the room to conglomerate in 
the dusty foyer.

Scully looked at Mulder as the last officer left. His eyes were 
dark, burning. His gaze made the blood rise in her cheeks. 
She stood to exit and he grabbed her wrist, his fingers easily 
circling the fragile bones. She was ready for him as he pulled 
her towards him covering her lips with his own, his hands a 
rough caress down her back and around her waist, pulling her 
hips against his until she fit snugly against him.

She pulled back, glanced to the half-closed door, then back to 
Mulder, laughter in her eyes. "Feeling better?"

He looked disgruntled. "No."

She touched his cheek and disengaged, stepping around the 
door into the foyer.

He watched her through a haze of arousal, took a moment to 
compose himself and followed her.

She was standing beside Alec, in animated conversation with 
one of the other officers. He came up behind her and adjusted 
her collar, his fingers brushing her neck, then went to wait 
for her outside in the cool air.

***
End of part 19, continued in part 20.
ThePen@hotmail.com


Faeries - Part 20
By The Pen and The Brain
Thepen@hotmail.com
See disclaimer in part 1

                          ***

The room was in disarray when they opened the door, files
spread over the coffee table, half-empty cups and side
plates littering what few uncluttered surfaces that were
available.

Scully sighed as she perused the destruction. "And I
usually keep such a *tidy* house."

Mulder shed his coat and slung it over the back of the
couch, dislodging a pile of photographs. Christina's
dead, drowned eyes stared accusingly up at him.

Exhausted he shut his eyes, suddenly aware of - and
overwhelmed by - the sheer enormity of the task they
had been set.

He felt Scully come up to stand behind him, then a whisper
of cloth as she lifted her hand, perhaps to touch his
cheek, smooth the hair on his brow.

She hesitated, then drew her hand away without contact.
"The funeral is tomorrow," she said. "Do you want to go?"

"No," he replied quickly, keeping his eyes tightly shut
against Christina's betrayed face.

"Mulder-"

"I don't want to waste another moment we could spend
searching for Hannah."

He thought he heard a tiny moan escape the back of her
throat and when she spoke her voice was quiet.

"Mulder...She could be dead."

"She could be alive," he responded fiercely.

She was silent, then she moved, her hand brushing his
shoulder.

That was all it took.

Mulder turned to her, catching her in his embrace, arms
tight around her, his mouth seeking hers in a flurry of
emotion, tearing a rough gasp from her. He pushed himself
up against her. Hard. Dragged her jacket off her shoulders
and let it fall to the ground. She was wearing a silk
blouse and his hands were warm through the thin material.

"Mulder-". She flattened her hands against his chest and
felt his ragged breaths rising and falling against her
palms.

His fingers were on her buttons, then against her skin and
she was burning, dissolving, his touch creating a fire
that consumed her. She let her head fall back as he moved
to investigate her throat, his lips open against her
skin, his hands burrowing into her hair.

She felt the quickening in her body and reluctantly she
pushed him away.

He looked confused, a flash of pain coursing through his
features.

"Not yet," she said gently.

His lips tightened, his eyes dark. "I'm sorry. I'm moving
too-"

"No." She stopped him quickly before he sank into the mire
of self-castigation. "I just think that we should get some
sleep tonight."

"You didn't sleep last night." It wasn't a question.

She shook her head.

"My insomnia must be catching." He traced the shadows
under her eyes with his thumbs, his touch feather-light.

"I was just too wound up to sleep."

"You should let me wear you out," he said with a suggestive
leer.

She stifled her answering smile. "How?"

"Recreational sports."

"Jogging?"

"Or we could jog."

Her smile faded after a moment. "Mulder, about this case-"

Her turned from her quickly, busying himself tidying files.
"It's nothing."

"It's *not* nothing." She grasped his arm and pulled him
around to face her. "I understand how difficult this case
must be for you-"

He stared into her intense gaze. "Scully-"

"No." She cut him off. "If there's anything - *anything*,
I want you to talk to me."

He tipped his head back and looked at the ceiling.

Her voice was gentle. "Let me be here for you."

He looked quickly down at her, tears welling, threatening
to drown him.  "What did I do to deserve you, Scully?"

Her nose crinkled at the sentimental phrase. "You mean, 'Who
did you tick off?'"

He acceded with a nod, then looked at her with raised
eyebrows. "You're *sure* you just want to sleep tonight?"

"Positive," she replied.

"All right," he agreed, reluctantly. "If you change your
mind during the night my offer still stands."

"To wear me out?"

"Don't forget your trainers."

She shoved him playfully towards the door. "Go to bed,
Mulder. You'll be impossible in the morning."

                           ***

He was still awake at 2:39, reclining on his bed in the
blue light reflecting off the water into his room. He
fidgeted restlessly under the covers and stared at the
play of light and shadows against the wall. There was no
way he was sleeping tonight.

He kicked off the covers and swung his legs over the side
of the bed. Despite the rooms heating the floor was cold
as he walked towards the door. Suddenly the handle turned
and Scully stood in the entrance, her eyes shadowed and
her face half hidden in the night. She met him halfway,
turning her face up to recieve his kiss, her arms coiling
around his neck.

He cradled her face in his hands and watched her watching
him. She was saying something, her eyes dark with worry,
not passion.

"I knew you'd come." He tried to tug her towards the bed,
but she resisted.

"I've had a call from James Winslow. Kate's gone missing."

"What?" He was already reaching for his clothes.

"She ran out a few hours ago."

"And he didn't follow? Why has he only rung now?"

She bit her lip. "He hit his head."

"Fortuitous," he muttered.

"We need to get round there, I'll call Alec and tell him
to meet us at the Winslow's home."

"Wait-"

He grabbed her arm as she made to leave. "We have to try the forest."

She looked incredulous. "Mulder-"

"No! Listen to me. Whatever you believe, *she* thinks
Hannah's been taken by faeries, and *that's* who she's
gone to find."

"Mulder, you're still working on the basis that she's
intellectually  coherent," she said, frustrated. "She might not
be! The shock of this whole thing pushed her into
extreme shock. She was near catatonic, in all probability
not thinking logically."

He snatched up his gun and dipped the holster on. "We don't have
enough time to argue this, Scully. Are you ready?"

She nodded, pulling her cell-phone out of her pocket as
she followed him into the hall. "Alec? It's Scully.."

The lights were off and Mulder nearly fell down the stairs
in his haste. He waited impatiently for the night-doorman
to unlock the front door.

"He's on his way,' said Scully.

Mulder looked at her, harried. "He's left his surveillance
at the lake?"

"Constable Peter Allen is still there."

"Jesus," muttered Mulder. "Keys."

She handed them to him and got in the car. "Where are we
going?"

"The forest," he replied, unflinchingly.

                                ***
The mist was heavy on the ground, obscuring the dangerous
branches and holes scattered on the forest floor. It was a
crisp quiet night, and the moon lent the trees an
unearthly light.

Guns drawn the two agents picked their way
carefully through the undergrowth, silent. Everything seemed 
highly defined, every sound excruciatingly sharp, every detail exact.

Scully glanced at Mulder's profile, saw the puffs of white
his shallow breaths made in the air. And then, suddenly,
she saw movement in the trees just beyond him.

"There!" She took off, almost without thinking.

Mulder snatched for her and dragged her back to his side,
wrenching her coat off her shoulders.

"What are you doing?," she hissed.

He succeeded in pulling her coat off and swiftly turned it
inside out, then forced it back into her hands. "A
backwards coat will prevent you from being led astray by
piskies," he said. "Humour me."

She shoved her arms back into the sleeves and began to
pursue again. There was a light ahead, blue and
flickering between the trees. She could hear Mulder say, "Spread
out," and then she came upon a clearing, almost false in
its perfection.  The trees were straight and of an even
height, running the circular patch of clover in an
identically spaced pattern. And in the centre of it was a
wild man.

He was tall and achingly slender, with long limbs and a
narrow, sharp face.

She lowered her gun.

He was naked and pale, but not shivering in the damp cold
of the forest. He was watching her warily with eyes that
reminded her somewhat of Kate. She took another step
towards him and he flinched, seemingly poised for flight.

"Stay where you are," she ordered.

He snarled at her, a long string of vowels that made no
sense to her, "Ceiran a luatha ne sidhe!," and started
towards her.

Her gun rose again. "I said: stay where you are."

"Scully!"

She heard Mulder call her and for one brief instant she
looked behind her. Nothing. 

"I/We want my/our daughter back, little sistermind."

Her head whipped around again and the wild man was beside
her, his hand around the muzzle of the gun, pointing it
down and away.

She felt the first bite of fear. "Step away, sir." Mercifully
her voice was unfaltering. She felt herself strengthening.

He looked at her in the eyes, green clashing with blue,
his face so close that she could smell the earthy scent of
his skin.

His mouth opened an inch from hers and he spoke:
"Tiedra."

She only had time to register that he hadn't breathed the
words, rather that they had emenated from the figure,
before the air spun around her, pierced with blue light,
and she was gone.

                           ***


Faeries : Part 21
By The Pen and The Brain
See disclaimer in part 1

                        ***

Mulder saw the light through the trees, and in the unusual
precision of the night Scully's gasp caught at the edge
of his awareness. He had been picking his way carefully
through the undergrowth, trying not to make a sound, but
when he heard her breath he began to run, caught in the
grip of some terrible apprehension.

He yelled her name again and burst into the clearing. He
stopped abruptly when he saw the faery crouched over her
prone body.

The creature was amazingly graceful as it moved, lifting
Scully with itself. It had a strength that belied the
frailty of it's limbs. It hadn't seen him, it's attention
directed towards the red-haired woman it held gingerly in
it's arms. When it turned to depart the clearing Mulder
saw a pair of diaphanous wings hanging limply, unfurled
against the faery's spine.

Then he came to his senses and drew his gun. "Hey!"

The creature spun, startled, to face him.

"Put her down.' Mulder gestured to make the action
clearer.

The creature didn't move.

"Put her *down*!" He felt his anger rise and he tightened
his grip on his gun.

"You are on the brink of the crossing, othermind. You had
better go back."

Mulder sensed the voice had come from the faery, but it
hadn't opened it's mouth, nor was the warning *spoken*
in the true sense of the word, but conveyed in a means other
than vocally. He advanced on the creature with a sure,
steady walk.

"You will breach the crossing if you don't withdraw."

The creature's eyes were wide and flitted from Mulder's
face to his surroundings and back again. It fidgeted,
nervous.

"I won't withdraw without her," Mulder said firmly.

"She's one of ours."

"She's *mine*." Desperate, Mulder tried to will the
creature into obeying. Surprisingly, it did, gently
sitting Scully down on her feet.

"Now walk away."

It moved aside and Mulder followed it with his gun,
watching Scully out of the corner of his eye. "Scully, are
you okay?" She didn't reply, but she was upright.
"Scully?" He turned to the faery. "What did you do to
her?"

Scully made a sound like a sigh and he whirled around to
find her going down. He reached for her instinctively
and she folded against him as if all life had spilled from her
body.

Furious, he turned back to the faery - and found it gone.

His anger quickly faded to concern and he lowered Scully
to the forest floor, smoothing her hair from her white
face and checking her slender wrist for a pulse. It was
faint, but steady and he felt her breath warm on his
cheek when he leant over her.

"Scully." He shook her shoulder, trying to rouse her. Then
again, harder. "Scully!" Her eyes opened then, and suddenly,
terrifyingly, he knew that she wasn't there. He felt fear well
in his stomach and he just barely saved himself from retching.
She was alive. She was breathing.

There must be *something* someone could do. He picked her
up and tucked her coat around her while her copper head
lolled against his shoulder, her blank eyes staring past
his worried face into the dark abyss.

                           ***

Alec paced the Winslow kitchen, livid. Despite all his own
concerns, despite all his misgivings, he had followed
Mulder's demands that Kate be left in the care of her
husband, and now she was gone. *And* to top things off
after dragging him off surveillance, leaving only Petey to
hold down the fort - God help us - the two agents hadn't
even bothered to show.

He turned back to James Winslow and noted with grim
satisfaction that the nasty lump that had been rising on
his forehead had finally seemed to stop swelling. "James,
you can't remember *anything* that may have prompted this
attack."

"Nothing."

"Did Eilian-"

"I said nothing to her, Mr. Stephens." Eilian's voice was
sharp and she stood ramrod straight in the corner of the
kitchen. "I had nothing to say to her. She is a mother who
has abandoned her child."

James stood up and furiously kicked his chair at the cabinets.
"Stop it! Stop it you hideous woman! *You* talk about abandoning
children? You've *never* loved Katie! *Never*!"

Eilian was standing over him in a heartbeat. "I *always*
loved Kate. She was my flesh and blood!"

"She *is*! She still is!"

"Not of *my* flesh! Not of *my* blood!" She was yelling
now, her face purple with anger. "I have cared for and
clothed and fed a stranger, a stranger who couldn't even
do the same for her own daughter!"

"That is a lie! That is some imbecelic lie that you have
constructed to shield yourself with! And it's taken over
your life, Eilian. Walter knew it! Right down to the last
breath he loved his daughter and you broke his heart with
your lies and your deception and a hatred of your own
creation!"

Eilian threw her arm out and swept a pile of dishes onto
the floor. "Kate wasn't even meant to live!"

The room went silent.

Eilian's face blanched white and she sank into a chair,
resting her head in her hands.

James watched her with contempt. "And there's the rub, eh,
Eilian? Kate was meant to die like the others."

"What others?," asked Alec.

"Kate wasn't her first child. The first died in a serious
miscarriage, and the second of cot death."

"Jack was enchanted by the faeries, just as Kate was
stolen by them," Eilian muttered.

"The faeries are in your mind. They do *not* exist." James
was adamant.

Eilian lifted her eyes to meet her son-in-law's. "Then who
is your daughter?"

Before he could make a reply there was a loud knocking at
the door.

Alec tensed. "I'll answer it."

He opened it to a desperate Mulder.

"Where have you been?" Then he saw Mulder's limp armful,
and his mouth fell open. "Jesus! What happened to her?"

"We ran into a stranger in the woods."

"The murderer?"

Mulder shuddered. "God, I hope not."

Alec shut the door after them. "Will she be okay?"

"I don't know," replied Mulder. "Where's Eilian?"

"She and James had a head-on in the kitchen-" Mulder was already
hustling that way. "Wait! Fox, I don't think it's a good idea that-"

"Can you help her?" Mulder pushed into the kitchen and
presented Scully to Eilian.

The older woman swept Scully's hair out of her eyes and
peered at her. "How long has she been like this?"

"12 minutes," replied Mulder. "I got here as soon as I
could."

"Good," approved Eilian briskly. "Lay her down on the
lounge. I'll be with you in a moment."

James watched Mulder distrustfully from his shadowed
corner. Scully's blank expression was too familiar. He
turned his face away.

Mulder didn't pause to switch the light on, but arranged
Scully comfortably on the couch and sat with her until
Eilian arrived with a steaming towel, a bucket and a
bottle of viscous green liquid.

"What are you doing?"

"We have to purge the spell from her body. It won't be
pleasant for her. Have you got a weak stomach?"

Mulder winced. "No."

"Good. Hold her head upright."

Eilian forced the liquid down Scully's throat and lay her
hand against her forehead.

Mulder looked at the bottle. "What was that?"

"Hemlock,' Eilian replied distractedly.

He stared at her in disbelief. "*What?*"

"A *very* diluted form."

"You'll make her sick!"

"*That*, agent Mulder, is the aim."

Before he could react Scully began to retch weakly.

Eilian bent her over the bucket and pulled the copper hair
off her face. Mulder squeezed his eyes shut and tightened
his grip on her hand. He was surprised and relieved when
she returned the pressure. It was not long before the
heaving convulsions that wracked her body ceased and she
was still, panting.

She threw her head back, and he saw her throat working
as she attempted to speak. Finally she turned her watering
eyes towards him.

"Oh my God." She clutched at the hot towel Eilian had
given her. "Mulder, what happened? There was a man..."

"He hit you on the head, or something."

"What did you give me?"

"Hemlock," said Eilian.

"*Hemlock*?," repeated Scully incredulously. She turned to
Mulder. "You *let* her give me hemlock?"

He shrugged helplessly and stood up. "I have to go back to
the forest."

Scully struggled to sit upright. "Oh no you don't," she
said firmly. "Not without me."

"Without you," he said, just as stubbornly.

"No."

"Yes. Scully, look what just happened."

"Getting clonked on the head has never stopped me before,
Mulder. I'm coming with you."

Mulder knew the tone of voice well, and he hid his smile.
She was okay. Stroppy, but okay.

Eilian turned a gentle but determined glare on her. "You
need to rest."

Mulder made a sound of approval and exchanged a look with
Eilian.

Scully fought to control her temper. "Mrs. George, may
I have a word with agent Mulder?"

Eilian hitched herself up, rather reluctantly. "Mind what
I said, girl. You've had a very traumatic experience."

Mulder waited until she'd left. "She's right, Scully. I
don't think it's a good idea to go back to the forest."

"Why not?," she asked, stonily. "You are."

"Scully, *I* didn't-"

"Don't coddle me, Mulder," she cut in. "Not now. I think
we've moved past that point in our relationship."

"I'm just trying to look after you," he said planitively.

"And I appreciate it, but I'm not going to let you go into
that forest on your own." Her expression said *case
closed*.

"What do you think it was?," he asked after a pause.

"What? the man in the forest?"

He nodded.

She considered. "I don't know. A gypsy, maybe. Maybe even
another wild man, like that woman in Jersey. *You* think
he was a faerie."

"I'm willing to accept it as an option."

She shook her head as if trying to supress her smile, then
gave up and flashed him a grin.

There was a hesitant knock at the door, and Alec poked his
head around the corner. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting,
Fox, but we really have to go. Pete Allen has reported
something unusual in the forest."

"What do you mean?" asked Scully.

"He says he's seen lights and voices, but he can't find
their source. I'm going to contact the other men and meet
you at the lake."

Scully stood up and gritted her teeth against the sudden
throb of pain in her head.

Alec watched her worriedly. "Dana, I'm glad you're alright, but-"

"I'm fine," she said sharply.

Alec managed a light smile and looked at Mulder. "You
*did* warn me about this," he said ruefully.

Mulder nodded in patient understanding and held the door
open for Scully as she moved past him.

Alec watched them go, then turned to his friend.
"I guess I'll see you at the forest, no?"

Mulder nodded again and started to leave, but Alec grasped
his arm.

"Fox, be careful out there, okay?," he said worriedly. "I
don't know what's out there, but don't go rushing in and
getting yourself killed."

Mulder looked concerned. Alec was worried, really worried.
"Alec, have you heard anything-"

"No," he was quick to dismiss it. "I just don't want Dana
going home in a box." He tried to laugh it off as he left,
leaving Mulder looking after him in consternation.

                           ***




The forest was cold, damp and miserable. It had started to drizzle and
the rain plastered kate's nightdress to her body, hindering her
movement and limiting her speed.

She was close now, so close that she felt she could just reach out and
topuch her daughter, stroke the peach-down cheeks amd smooth her hair
away from her tear-stained eyes. Hannah had stopped crying and had
succumbed into silence - a silence that scared Kate. But she could
still feel her heart beating strongly within her breast, steady
against against her own pulse.

She couldn't keep theis state up for long without withdrawing
permanently from her physical body - she looked down and saw the blood
on her legs, her cut and bleeding feet. She felt no pain  - and this,
more than anything, caused her to increase her speed. She didn't have
much time left.

                                 ***

It had clouded over quickly and the forest was so dark that Mulder and
Scully could barely see a thing outside the beams of light their
torches threw forward.

The silence was impenetrable and Mulder found himself holding his
breath, not wanting to disturb the perfection of quiet.

They moved slowly, cautiously, frequently catching the other's eye :
*This way?* *Let me go first.*

Mulder stumbled and Scully caught his arm.

"I'm okay," he murmured.

She let go. "And _you_ don't even have to do it in heels."

He chuckled, glad of the reprieve from silence.

"You're sure we're going the right way?"

He squinted at her in the darkness. "Fairly."

"*Fairly*?"

"Ninety-eight percent. Why?"

She looked reluctant. "I just thought that we should have been there
by now."

He looked at her. Her face was bone white and her eyes looked huge and
dark, staring back at him. "You feeling allright?"

She shrugged. "I'll live."

"You want to go back?"

"No!"

Her vehemence startled him and she continued more quietly.

"I want to see this through."

He understood completely. A case like this, as personal as this this,
hit close to the hear. To leave it before completion was unthinkable
and would leave a terrible blank space in both mind and memory.

He wanted to show her that he understood and he reached out to touch
her, but a scream precluded his move.

Scully started violently, she hadn't been ready for the noise that cut
through the air like a laser through soft butter. The cocoon of
silence broke around them. Burst into the sound of leaves and small
animals, and Mulder fancied he could even hear his own heart, or hers
for that matter, pounding hard with shock.

Scully pulled out her gun and looked at Mulder. He had already his
drawn, but it was shaking with the trembling of his ungloved fingers.
She started to speak, but once again the scream blotted her voice out.

It was distinctly male, low, rough with terror.

It was frighteningly human.

Scully started to run towards the sound, but Mulder snatched at her
desperately and motioned that they should move slowly, silently.
Whatever the man had found he had confronted already. It would do
neither of them any good if they went charging in without thought and
ended up sharing his fate.

He began to move in the direction of the screams, Scully's hand
srushiong his own as she walked beside him.

As they crept towards the lake the woods became gradually lighter
until it was bright enough to swutch off the torches. Mulder could see
Scully searching confusedly for the source of the light. It came from
neither above them, nor ahead of them. Rather it seemed to radiate
from the very leaves, the bracken underfoot. Even the shadows seemed
to glow.

The rain shimmered in the light. It appeared stationary, like diamonds
hanging in the air. Mulder had the feeling that time had ceased, that
they had stepped off the narrow path of reality into...what? He felt
dizzy, woozy, like his head had been wrapped in cottonwool and that
pressure was building between his ears.

Scully had stopped moving and was standing against a tree, eyes
closed, short, sharp breaths causing the shuddering rise and fall of
her chest. Alarmed, he spoke her name and mercifully her eyes opened.

"The amulet."

She shook her head wearily. He crossed to her and thrust his hands in
her pockets. She wouldn't have thrown it away. She couldn't have. His
fingers fumbled against the dense metal and he pulled it out.

The satin ribbon was tangled in his palm and he cursed as his numb
fingers struggled to pull it into a loop. Finally, with a sob of
relief, he dragged it over Scully's head.

There was a roaring sound as his ears popped and his eyes smarted at
the sudden sting of pain.

Beside him Scully gulped in great breaths of air as she sagged against
the tree.

"My God..."

He was angry, furious, thankful. "You should have worn it," he growled
at her. "Why weren't you wearing it?"

She was clutching at it now, white-knuckled in her fist. "It was
burning," she said, simply. "Back in the clearing it was burning with
cold and it was hurting."

She looked around as she straightened up from the tree. "What
happened?"

He shook his head, then something the faerie had said triggered his
memory - "We've breached the crossing," he said.

Her eyes were puzzled, but he didn't pause to explain and instead
pulled her inexorably closer towards the white light.

The first thing he saw was the ripples of light reflecting off the
waters of the Lake of Children. He heard Scully's gasp and knew that
she hadn't expected to stumble across it so suddenly, without warning.

He scanned the lake first, but the only movement came from the rain
falling on it's surface, water meeting water.

"Mulder, look." Scully moved towards the prone figure on the ground in
the shallows of the lake. He was on his front, his face in the water,
but still she could tell that it was Alec's constable. She sighed and
moved to the body, rolling it over without any hope.

"He's dead."

Mulder had come up behind her. She nodded, tiredly.

"Drowned?"

"We'll have to wait until a post-mortem is conducted."

He touched her shoulder. "What do you think?"

"I think so, yes." She stood up and stared acros the lake at the dark
trees on the other shoreline. "Damnit, Mulder. He was here." She was
full of anger , of disappointment. "He's dumped Hannah and we've
missed him."

He wanted to comfort her, to pull her into the circle of her arms and
force the pain out of her eyes and her vpoice. "Dana-"

"Goddamnit. God*damn*it!" She pushed him voff and glared at him. "it's
going to happen again, isn't it Mulder? It's just going to keep
killing the children, one by one by one! Hasn't it done enough damage?
Come out!" She hurled her words across the lake where they were lost
in the rain. "Come out, you bastard!"

He did snatch her into his arms now. Pinning her from behind to his
body until her taut anger had softened into quiet breaths. She bent
her head forward, defeates and he watched the graceful arch of her
neck.

Over her sigh he heard a humming sound that gradually grew louder.
Scully stiffened and he released her to pull her further from the
waters edge.

A moment later the lake burst into flame and he reeled back. Scully
screamed his name and when he looked up he saw the fire reflected in
her eyes.

The water hissed and fizzled, but the flames leapt higher and burned
brighter, without smoke or steam.

The humming grew louder until the trees seemed to shudder with the
sound. Mulder could feel the vibrations shimmer through his body from
the soles of his feet up his spine into his teeth and the roof of his
mouth.

"Mulder, what is it?"

He could barely hear her voice over the cacophony of sound.

"Mulder?"

He held up his hand to silence her and gestured to the woods beyond
the dancing flames.

A haze of light was rising from the leaves, sparkling, shining,
humming.

"Daoine Sidhe."

He looked at her. Her eyes were full of blue light and her mouth had
fallen slightly open.

He wanted to kiss her.

He wanted to devour her.

Then the wonder in her eyes turned to fear.

He whirled around to stare past the fire and saw what she had seen.

A figure was on the far bank. It had long, dark hair and wore a white
shroud.

>From the distance it looked like a child and the name "Hannah" was on
Mulder's lips, before he realised that the figure was a grown woman.

"Kate!"

Scully's shout was lost in the wind and the fire, but she set off
along the bank before he could stop her. He followed her quickly along
the edge of the lake, but as he did he saw Kate step into the lapping
water. Or *on* to it, to be more correct.

He stumbled to a halt as she took another step.

Her lips were moving, but he couldn't make out the words. Her eyes
were raised to the canopy of light that hung above her. She took
another step, then another. The water dipped under her weight, but she
remained afloat as she progressed towards the middle of the lake.

Mulder saw the flames part like living curtains then close behind her,
throwing sparks into her hair and against her clothes, where they
glowed like stars before they went out.

Scully was staring, awed, at the other woman. Mulder could see her
struggling for an explanation.

"There must be a...a bank or something," she said. "Under the water.
She's walking along it...maybe a submerged pier - it would explain
where Henry Baxter was found."

"Scully, think about it," he admonished her gently, his eyes never
leaving Kate.

"Well, what then?," she demanded crossly.

He shook his head. "We have to stop her."

"What is she-?"

"A transference," he said. "Scully, she's bargaining with her
ancestors!"

Now that they were closer, Mulder could hear the words she flung into
they sky.

"Mia e de liamore! Fiorde fiedre! I want my daughter back! I want my
Hannah!" Tears mingled with perspiration that streamed down her face.
Her eyes were wild. "L thwaite, io e simprate! Mama! Mama io e
simprate!"

The noise and the flames rose to a crescendo  and the lights swung
down and obliterated the fire.

The darkness was sudden and complete.

                                 ***


Gradually the light from the stars and the moon returned, and then the
sound of splashing surfaced over the silence.

"Help! Help me! Help! Please, someone, help!"

Scully reacted first, flinging off her coat and diving into the lake.

"Hannah, hold on!," she yelled as she swam strongly towards the
thrashing figure.

The girl went down once, then again, and Mulder shouted in alarm.

Scully looked up, and then the water swallowed her whole.

"No!" The cry was torn from his lips. He was about to follow her into
the water when she resurfaced - gasping, but triumphant, with a limp
body in tow.

She staggered on to the bank and gently laid Hannah down. The girl was
pale, very pale, and as Mulder hurried over Scully turned her onto her
side. *Oh god, please be okay.*

"Scully-", he reached for her.

"She's okay-"

He stared at her.

"She's okay. She's breathing."

He saw that she was right. Hannah's chest rose and fell steadily, and
after a moment her eyes opened. Huge, brown eyes. Deep and young and
innocent. Above all else, innocent. Somewhere along the line she had
lost the ancient knowledge, the curse of her ancestry, so that when
Scully wrapped her in his woollen coat all Mulder saw was a frightened
child.

                                 ***

Penzance Hospital
9:31am

"Shock, mainly. A little water in her lungs- but not enough to cause
alarm." Scully shook her head. "No signs of exposure, no malnutrition.
Wherever she was, she was remarkably well looked after."

James seemed reluctant to ask the next question. "Did she...? Rather I
mean, were there any-?"

"There were no gashes, Mr Winslow. No surface wounds." Scully smoothed
her hand through her hair and looked around the room. It was just a
small conference room, but Doctor Carter must have pulled some
strings; somewhere he had found her a dry change of clothes, and both
she and James Winslow had been plied with cups of coffee. Half-decent
cups of coffee, she admitted to herself somewhat reluctantly.

Mulder had been sent back to Hayle to retrieve Alec.

"No surface wounds," said James. "Does that mean that Hannah may have
something worng *inside*?"

She sighed. "No, I'm sorry, I phrased that incorrectly. What I meant
to say was that while Hannah exhibits no physical signs of her
abduction, she may experience some psychological trauma." *Abduction*,
she thought, *God help me, I'm even starting to sound like Mulder*.

"You mean how she's unable to remember anything?," James asked.

Scully nodded. "Hopefully her amnesia will only be temporary." She
somewhat doubted it. "Also, she may experience some nightmares,
sleeplessness. Dizzy spells are not uncommon, but don't hesitate to
take her to a doctor if you have *any* concerns."

James nodded and ducked his head, as if searching for answers in his
cup. Finally, he looked up. "And Kate?"

Scully sighed. "Nothing, I'm afraid. The police are still searching."

"Will thet charge her?"

"They've a warrant out for her arrest," she replied carefully.

"You're avoiding the question, Agent Scully."

"Maybe. We'll see."

It seemed to be all the answer he needed. "She was just trying to
protect her daughter," he said sadly.

"From what, James?"

He couldn't answer.

                                 ***

"You saw exactly what I saw, Scully," insisted Mulder, stabbing the
air with his fork.

"Yes, I did," she agreed calmly.

"A woman walking on burning water."

"A woman who *appeared* to be walking on burning water," she corrected
him.

Mulder spluttered into his glass of wine. "Appeared to be? *Appeared*
to be?" he scoffed.

"It could have been an irregularity on the lake floor. Or-" she spoke
over his incredulous laugh, "or, maybe, your eyes were decieving you.
it wouldn't be the first time."

"Do I sense some tension?" Alec cut in goodnaturedly.

Scully looked up and smiled at him as he took a seat at the dining
table and scanned the resturant idly.

"Alec," said Mulder.

"Has our food arrived yet?"

"*Alec*."

He looked at Mulder. "Yes?"

"What was the phonecall about?"

Alec paused in his action of spreading his napkin across his lap.
"It's strange," he said, brow furrowed.

"Strange?" Mulder prompted, curious.

Scully shot him a look.

"Odd. It appears the lake is disappearing."

"Drying up?" asked Scully.

"The water level is not going down so much as the ground is going up.
There's only a foot or so of water left in most places. But it's still
level."

Scully looked triumphant. "Shallow water," she said to Mulder.

"It wasn't so shallow when you dived in after Hannah," he retorted.

"You two," said Alec insistently. "It's a mystery for the agricultural
scientists, not the police."

"Is there any sign of Kate?" asked Scully, swiftly changing the
subject.

"Nothing," said Alec. "It's early days yet. We have men combing the
forest, but I doubt they'll ever find anything."

"And Hannah?" asked Mulder.

Scully found his hand under the table and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"She understands that her mother is gone," said Alec. "She still
doesn't remember anything of the time that she was missing. James is
making plans for them to move to Scotland to live with his parents for
a while."

Mulder looked shocked. "What about Eilian? Are they leaving her
alone?"

Alec looked depressed. "Mulder, you have to put yourself in Jame's
shoes-"

"She's an old woman, Alec."

"They're looking into homes."

"Oh God." Mulder dropped his head and bit down on his bottom lip.

"It's the best thing for her, really," said Alec, somewhat
desperately.

Scully tore her gaze from Mulder and looked at Alec. "Keep an eye on
her, won't you?"

Alec nodded, looking miserable.

Fortunately, the food arrived and they were spared any more
conversation.

"When does your flight leave?" asked Alec over coffee.

"Tomorrow morning," said Mulder.

"I'd like to see you off," said Alec. "Since I'm here in London
anyway-"

"It'll be very early," said Mulder warily.

Alec's smile faltered a little. "Fox..."

"Just remembering what you were like at school," said Mulder.

"Hey," protested Alec," I was an early riser!"

"Only if you hadn't gone to bed that night."

Alec chuckled and a smile spread over Mulder's dark features. "The
plane leaves at 4:15," he said. "In the morning."

"Oh God!" said Alec. "Can't you put it off?"

"I don't know. Scully?"

She looked up. "'Scully' what?"

"Do you want to miss the flight? It would give us time for some
sightseeing." He sounded like an eager child.

"Sightseeing?" asked Scully. "Gretna Green?"

"Stonehenge," said Mulder. "Call it a pilgramage, if you will."

"I'll call it an ice cubes chance in hell, Mulder," she replied.

He grinned-he hadn't expected any differently. "Spoilsport."

"Lunatic," she retorted.

"God, you two behave like an old married couple, sometimes," exclaimed
Alec. He shot Mulder a sly glance, then stood and offered Scully a
hand. "May I have this dance, Mrs. Mulder?"

"Oooh," said Mulder, "that'll get you in trouble."

Scully shot him a withering look and, standing, led Alec to the dance
floor.

                                 ***



Well, here we are again. Over the last couple of parts I've been
terribly weak and cowardly and leaving the intro and disclaimer to my
hero Geoff (all hail the mighty Geoff!) who has been just the most
...incredible partner-in-crime. He has taken my hastily written,
scrunched, torn, travelworn notebooks and transcribed them onto the
computer. Geoff - you are the greatest. I can't thank you enough.

And to everyone who has stuck by me from day 1 and to everyone who is
reading the whole thing from scratch, and to everyone who is reading
this intro and thinking "Whoa, this is *waaay* too soggy!"-thankyou.

One of my absolutest favouritest authors told me something I'll never
forget: "Do *not* post an unfinished long story". Karen, I hold that
dear to my heart and will *never* do it again. (Pen forgot rule 2:
don't do this AND move overseas halfway through- Imp).

To everyone, class - as per mentioned above, "Day 1" was nearly half a
year ago - which makes you all *very* patient. I hope I haven't let
you down.

Thankyou again to Geoff, to Steph for reading my obsession, to
everyone who prodded me into finishing and finally to my own personal
source of sanity and inspiration: The Brain. You truly are a *most*
purple african violet.

And now, on with the show.

***

Faeries - Part 23b (Epilogue)
By The Pen and The Brain
ThePen@hotmail.com

You remember part 1? Disclaimer's in there (see, that wasn't too hard,
was it?).


The flight home was long and uneventful but, as usual, Mulder found it
easier to adapt back into U.S. time than the other way around.

Still, Scully didn't trust him to drive and opted for flagging down a
taxi outside the airport rather than taking his car out of long-term
storage. Mulder protested feebly, but eventually gave in. The quiet
swish of tires on tarmac and the sound of the rain on the car roof
nearly put him to sleep. He could see that Scully was also being
lulled into drowsiness by the strangely comforting movement of the
cab.

The streetlights caused an intermittent stripe of light across her
features and that, partnered with his own tiredness lent her an almost
unreal, ephemeral quality. He reached towards her across the back and
caught his eye with a slight smile that barely tilted the corners of
her mouth. He felt it like a warmth in his soul.

The taxi slowed to a halt outside Scully's apartment, and the driver
got out to help with the bags. He gestured to Mulder's, and spoke with
a heavy accent. "These too?"

Scully looked at Mulder. "I'd like you to come in," she said. I can
run you home later."

"Yes," said Mulder.

The taxi driver nodded, satisfied, and deposited the bags on the
sidewalk. It was quite late at night, so few lights were on. Though
Brian's-or where Mulder shrewdly assumed Brian's were-shone like a
beacon through closed curtains.

"Two doors down, Scully," he said to her with a dismissive gesture to
the telltale window. "Looks like someone's waiting up for you."

"Looks like," she agreed calmly as they entered the building. She
checked her mailbox, but it was empty. "Brian must have taken it in
for me."

Mulder took a moment to digest this. "He has a key to you mailbox?,"
he asked her.

"He has a key to my *flat*," she replied. He stared at her, amused,
until he realised she was serious.

"And I thought I was special."

"Oh, I give keys out to all prospective men," she replied lightly.
"It's all part of my overall plan for Getting A Life."

"I'm serious, Scully," Mulder said. "When did you give him a key?
Why?"

She looked up from her handbag where she was fossicking around for her
own keys, and saw that he was quite concerned. "Don't be so paranoid,"
she said gently. "He used to feed Queequeg. I just haven't got around
to asking for them back yet."

"Promise me you will," he said. "Next time. Promise me."

"He's not one of Them, Mulder," she said with certainty.

"Nevertheless," insisted Mulder, "it makes me uneasy knowing someone
can get access to you that easily. We have to take extra precautions.
Especially now."

"By 'especially now' you mean post-relationship as opposed to pre-, I
assume?"

"Post-relationship?," he asked. "*Post?*"

"You _know_ what I mean," she said, trying to slow the inevitable rise
of her temper.

"Don't put words in my mouth, Dana," he said. *We're tired* he told
himself. *We wouldn't be this volatile if we weren't*. "By 'especially
now' I simply meant it's going to be even more damn easy for Them to
break me once they get wind of this - and make no mistake, They *will*
- and since there's no way in hell I'm giving you up I'd like us to be
as careful as we can."

"Within reasonable bounds," she said.

He looked down at her. Her eyes were liquid and her cheeks pale.

"We won't treat this like it's a criminal activity. I don't want to
have to meet you in seedy hotels that rent rooms by the hour. I don't
want mysterious notes slipped under my door, unless-" she tried a
small smile, "-unless they're accompanied by mysterious roses. I want
to able to tell my Mom."

He hesitated.

He eyes widened. "My *Mom*, Mulder!"

He nudged her gently. "Do I have to tell mine?"

Try as she might, she couldn't prevent the grin that dawned across her
face at his little-boy-lost query, so she put her arms around him and
hid it in the crook of his neck. She felt a silent chuckle run through
his body.

"Not a great way to keep this thing under wraps," he murmured into her
hair.

She tipped her face up to his. "You're afraid someone's watching?,"
she said, with her breath against his lips like the lightest of
kisses.

He was having a hard time concentrating. "What?"

Her hands crept lower down his back and settled on his hips. "Skinner,
perhaps?"

He moaned against her mouth. "God, Skinner is not an image I want in
my head right now, Dana."

"Cancerman then."

The word "quiet" buzzed against her lips, then his arms tightened her
and stole what was left of her breath. He made a lazy exploration of
her face with his mouth, trailing kisses along her cheekbone, on her
eyelids, the tip of her nose. Her breathing was slow and steady as she
dissolved into him, relaxing, letting him hold her up and support her.
Her handbag fell to the ground and spilt its contents onto the hallway
floor, but she didn't care.

The noise did bring someone to his door, though.

Mulder opened his eyes to see Bryan appear two doors down, the wide
and welcoming grin fading first into bewilderment, then irritation.

"Hello, Bryan," said Mulder.

Bryan glared at him. "Fox."

*Oh good*, thought Mulder, *more powerplay.*

Scully had disentangled herself by this point and as she turned to
face Bryan Mulder noted - with some satisfaction - that she looked
flushed, woozy and thoroughly kissed.

A sunny smile quickly replaced the lawyer's scowl. "I trust you had a
good time in England, Dana?" he asked her, the double edged question
tempered with a saccharine tone of voice.

She bent to retrieve her handbag. "It was business, Bryan."

Mulder stooped to help her, letting his hands brush over hers as she
swept the contents of her purse back into her handbag and shoved her
key into the front door lock.

"I-er, watered your bonsai," Bryan tried again.

"I'll bet you did," muttered Mulder.

"Thankyou," Scully said.

Bryan evidently took this as a sign of progress and sent a veiled look
of triumph Mulder's way. "Would you like to come in for a cup of
coffee?"

Scully flashed a glance at Mulder and saw his countenance rapidly
darkening. "Now?," she asked.

Bryan's grin didn't quite make it to his eyes. "If you didn't have
anything else planned." This with a split-second glance at Mulder.

*Alright,* Scully said to herself, *enough with the games, boys.*
"I think Mulder and I will just go to bed," she said, her voice and
demeanour almost 'detached politeness' personified.

Bryan deflated and Scully could almost *feel* the testosterone surge
from Mulder's corner as he turned his back on the other man with a
smug grin.

"But thankyou for the offer, she said to soften the blow. Bryan
accepted the defeat gracefully and turned to depart.

*Keys*, Mulder mouthed to her.

"Goodnight Bryan." She turned the handle and slipped into the darkened
apartment. Mulder struggled in a moment later with both their
suitcases, then stood with his hands on his hips as watching as she
went around switching on lights, checking window latches and house
plants in her usual routine.

Finally she whirled on him. "If you're *that* paranoid I'll change the
locks!," she exclaimed.

He stepped out of the shadows into a pool of light and she saw the
laughter in his eyes. "I just don't want him to surprise you in the
shower."

"*You're* the one letting yourself in, Mulder," she said, approaching
slowly.

"That's different. *I* have only the best intentions."

She raised a single incredulous eyebrow. "Somehow I doubt that."

He reached out a hand for her. "Come here."

She grasped his hand and stepped into the circle of his arms.

"Thankyou," he said.

She looked up at him. "For what?"

"For Hayle. For putting up with me."

She kissed his chin. "Don't be an idiot."

"I mean it," he protested. "I know it was a hard case for you too."

"I did what I would have done in any other situation."

He smiled into her hair. "Not quite."

"Anyway, it's over now."

"For us." He pulled away slightly, so that he could see her face. "I
wonder if Hannah will ever remember. And I wonder if Kate will ever
return to reclaim her daughter. And-"

Scully reached up and put her hand over his mouth. "That kind of
thinking will drive you mad."

He kissed her palm. "I'm flattered you don't think it has already."

She laughed quietly, the sound bubbling up from within and escaping
her lips.

Mulder looked at her, marvelling at this woman who had faced so many
demons, whose nightmares rivalled his own - and yet could still laugh.

She was so brave and strong.

He envied her and admired her and loved her more than he had thought
would ever be possible.

Reaching down he took her hand and watched her fingers entwine with
his. They were strong, slender fingers, dextrous and infinitely
gentle. He knew the touch of those fingers in his hair, on his face,
flattened against his chest.

He raised his gaze to hers and found her watching him, her solemn blue
eyes deep and haunted.

"I don't know how I'd live without you," he said suddenly, tightening
his grip on her hand.

She looked uneasy. "You'd survive," she said.

"Would I?" He heard the tone of his own voice and wondered. "I want to
believe that."

"You *have* to believe that," she said. He saw a flash of anger
coupled with fear engulf the tiredness in her gaze. "You can't give
up. Please promise me you won't give up."

"Scully." He spoke her name sharply, then more gently: "Dana."

She seemed sapped of all energy, close to fainting. When he pulled her
into his arms again she was shivering.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't take this on yourself."

"I'm so sorry."

"This isn't your cross to bear, Mulder."

"I love you."

She lifted her mouth to his and silenced him with a kiss.

He thought he tasted the salt water of her tears on her mouth, but
when she pulled away her eyes were dry. He took her chin in his hand.
"Do you still want me to stay?," he asked her.

"More than ever," she replied with just a shadow of a smile.

He slid the palm of his hand down her throat and felt her pulse
beating beneath the milky skin. His breath shuddered in his body as he
realised how fragile she really was, how easily the breath could be
stilled in her body.

"Don't." She caught his hand.

"I can't," he replied.

"Don't," she repeated and drew his hand to her breast.

"Dana," her name escaped his lips and hung in the air.

"I want you."

Three simple words that had the power to knock the breath from his
body and weaken his knees.

She tugged his overcoat off his shoulders and he left it pooled on the
floor. His jacket followed suit, and his tie - a complicated knot that
tightened under his fumbling fingers - was dispensed of by her with
three short, sharp jerks.

"Do you know what you do to me?," he murmured.

She slid her hand up the length of his neck and stroked his cheek,
rough with the days stubble. He mirrored the gesture, smoothing his
thumb over the sweep of her cheekbone. She turned her face into his
caress and kissed the palm of his hand, then tangled her fingers in
his hair and drew him down to recieve her kiss.

There was a fire in his belly that leapt when she touched him and for
a moment he felt every soft curve and gentle slope of her imprinted on
his body. He realised as his hands rediscovered her slight figure that
he had already committed the feel of her to memory, where it lingered
like the scent of her had lingered on his skin after...after before.
He could describe with his hands the exact angle of her waist and the
precise weight of her breasts. He dragged his mouth from hers and bent
to taste her throat.

Scully rocked back under his searing kiss, and even as she lost her
footing she felt his arm tighten around her waist as he supported her.

"Sorry," he muttered into the crook of her neck, sounding anything
but.

"No problem," she replied breathlessly, regaining her balance and
drawing far enough away to have a go at his shirt buttons.

He took the initiative and slid the material of her top up her sides
until she had to relinquish her ongoing struggle with his buttons so
he could pull it over her arms and off.

Her skin gleamed white in the warm light shed by the lamps. Mulder
drew further away, held her at arms length so that he could consume
her with his gaze. Suddenly ridiculously self-conscious under that
penetrating stare, Scully began to cross her arms over her body.

"Don't," he said, pulling her to him, his arms reaching around her
back to her bra clasp.

"Shall we do this some place else?," she asked.

"Are you uncomfortable?," he replied back. A challenge.

"Yes. No," she said hastily. "I'm just...Bryan has a key to this
apartment."

"Do you want me to get it off him?" He abruptly made a beeline for the
door and Scully had a sudden vision of him flushed, rumpled, half-
unclothed, knocking at Bryan's door and grouchily demanding her key
back.

She was half-tempted to let him, but he did a quick U-turn and was
back in her arms a heartbeat later.

"Or we could move this to your bedroom," he grinned affably. "Either
way. I'm easy."

"Ominous words," she said, mocking him with a raised eyebrow.

He took her hand again and led her down the corridor to her room. "How
many times have I longed to do this?," he asked, shooting her a
sidelong glance.

She shrugged back. "You tell me?"

"It seems like forever." He kicked off his shoes and socks.

She stepped out of her heels and into his waiting embrace, feeling the
warmth of his skin against hers with a surge of joy difficult to
disguise. "You should have said something."

"I did," he said, brushing tiny kisses across her cheek. "Every day I
told you."

"Then I should have paid more attention."

She tucked her fingers into his waistband and pressed her hips against
his. He felt his body leap in response and he stifled a moan against
her mouth.

Her lips curved in a smile under his and she unbuckled his trousers,
sliding them over his slim hips and rocking up against him again. He
gasped and nipped her bottom lip with his teeth, then soothed it with
his tongue.

She slid her hands up the smoothly muscled plain of his torso. Her
eyes fell closed as she concentrated on the texture of his skin. She
moaned again when her fingers circled his flat nipples, but kept
still, letting her explore him in her own time, at her own rate.

She continued her blind exploration, her hands feathering over his
broad shoulders. "Mulder?"

"Hmmm?"

"Touch me."

He didn't have to be asked twice. He spanned her waist with his hands
and slid her trousers over her hips. She looked tiny, fragile without
her suit as armour, but her intensity filled the room and Mulder had
to catch his breath when he looked at her. She was luminous in the
shadows of the room. Cream and gold with her eyes huge and dark with a
desire that he knew was mirrored in his own countenance.

He slid his hand up from her waist and cupped her breast. Her eyes
fluttered shut again, then opened, wider, darker than before. He
caught her gaze, held it and stroked her thumb over the slight peak of
her nipple. She gasped his name and arched against his hand, her knees
suddenly giving way.

He drew her down to sit on the bed and knelt in front of her,
unclasping her bra and drawing the straps down her arms. He traced his
fingers back up inside her arm and brushed the curve of her breast.
She dropped her head into the crook of his neck and tasted his skin.

"Dana." He spoke her name like a prayer, his voice rough under the
strain of his passion.

She slid her hands into his hair, pulling him closer, wanting the
completeness she felt when she was near him.

He bent his head and his lips brushed her breast. Feather-light.

She quivered, desire coursing through her veins, making every inch of
her body alive to his touch. His mouth was searingly hot against her
flesh and she cried out when his lips moved to her nipple, teasing,
tasting, his hands coaxing her backwards on to the bed, moving lower.

                                 ***

Her spine arched in a poignant mix of agony and ecstasy, her throat
tight, her teeth gritted. Then her mouth opened in a wordless, cry
passionate cry. She fell, sweating, sobbing on the land, marvelling at
the body that had betrayed her, her fragile fingers and spindly limbs.
There was a new weight against her back, comforting and warm. With joy
she turned and saw for a fleeting second a lacy shawl of silver, shot
with rainbow colours and an elegant tracery of veins, that swung back
around her and nestled against her shoulderblades.

Wings.

She felt the emptiness of her womb like a hollow pain, but the little
mind stirred at the edge of her consciousness. Content. The little
voice was unafraid as she nestled into her mother's thoughts and
against her father's arms.

                                 ***

Finis! Thanks for reading, everybody!