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. 

***