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Source:

Page 268 of White Noise

Keywords:

"extraneous," "socks," "interested," "mirror"

From: "TAKE A BATH" <TakeA_Bath@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Pen and The Brain
Date: 8 Mar 2003
Newsgroups: alt.support.depression.manic

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,