Whisper to Me, a x-files fanfic

Disclaimer: I'm not making any money off of this, I just do it for fun. All of the folklore I invoke throughout the fic is either common knowledge (to me at least) or gleaned from "A Witch's Guide to Faerie Folk" by Edain McCoy. I got the idea when something similar happened to my boyfriend's D&D character in one of his games.

Author's Note: Just a bit of fun for St Patrick's Day. To those of you who most likely wonder what the hell I'm thinking, I'm reminded of the words of Mary Poppins "First of all I'd like to make one thing quite clear: I never explain anything!"

Chicago, IL

5:00pm

Carl Kolchak, retired newspaper reporter, sits on his couch watching the local news.

"...this is the sixth case of this nature this month. So far, area doctors have no clue as to the cause of this sudden blindness..."

Kolchak knits his brow thoughtfully, the news anchor shows a map of the area where these incidents have occurred. "That's that construction area where they're digging into the park," he says to himself. "I wonder what they're building out there. One thing's for sure, someone doesn't like it." He scratches his chin, that old glimmer in his eye when presented with a good story. Out of habit, he adopts his old tone of talking to himself, as though speaking into his tape recorder. "Now who...or what? Environmentalists? Nah, they'd just tie themselves to the trees and sing bad folk songs off-key, not put out anyone's eyes. Their eyes weren't even removed, they just lost their sight. Something tells me that whatever is doing this...isn't human." He gets up, opens a coat closet and takes a worn straw hat from the top shelf.

XXX

FBI Headquarters, Washington, DC

three days later

7:00am

Agents Mulder and Scully sit together, waiting to be admitted into Skinner's office. They both have the look of doing an examination of conscience.

"Relax, Scully, what could we be in trouble for? We've been on our best behavior since we got back onto the X-Files. I bet it's just a case."

"Knowing Skinner, I wouldn't be surprised if he ushered us back in with a doozy," she replies, not at all reassured.

A minute later, they're sitting opposite their superior; they can tell by his posture that Scully's prediction is all too likely.

"I got a call yesterday from Chicago, from a local...enthusiast, you might say. Retired newsman, still likes to do a few jobs on the side. His background check came up...colorful. Sounds about right up your alley." Scully stifles a groan, trying to turn it into a convincing yawn. Skinner takes no notice. "Apparently, he believes that there's a connection between an...epidemic of sorts-"

"Epidemic, sir?" Scully asks, now paying attention.

"Blindness. Six men, aged between 19 and 57 have been stricken blind with no known medical cause."

"Except what this guy claims," Mulder puts in.

Skinner nods wearily, standing up to pace around the room behind them. "All of these men were assigned to a construction site just outside of Chicago. There have been no accidents, no illnesses, nothing that could connect these men with their sudden affliction. Our...concerned citizen suspects something supernatural at play. What's the word he used...dryers?"

"Dryads!" Scully blurts out, surprising Mulder. "Sounds more like wood nymphs, actually, they're often confused with each other or lumped together. Wood nymphs have been known to punish mortals who gaze upon them uninvited by blinding them." Now both men stare at her in wonderment. "My aunt Olive used to tell us stories about 'the wee folk,' as she called them. I actually think she believed those stories."

"Irish," Mulder summarizes to Skinner with a smirk.

"I can see that," he says shortly, flipping a hand through Scully's coppery hair.

"He's colorblind, sir," she reminds him, trying to look as though having Skinner's fingers in her hair didn't bother her at all. "Mulder wouldn't know a redhead if one bit him on the-"

"Right, my mistake. So, there you have it. Just go out there and find out what's really going on."

They both stand to leave. Mulder asks, "So what if Darby O'Gill turns out to be right? Know any methods of dealing with 'the wee folk', Scully?"

She rolls her eyes, smoothing her hair back with one hand and shouldering her briefcase with the other, "If you're looking for a specialist, you'd have to ask my aunt."

"He's agreed to meet you at the Midway airport. Thank God for that, O'Hare is a zoo," Skinner adds in an aside. "He seems eager to work with you both. It seems your reputation precedes you." Scully bites back a smart remark and nods wanly. Mulder takes the folder with their information and flips through it before stowing it in his briefcase. "Good luck," he tells them as he waves them out of the office.

XXX

The takeoff goes smoothly, although Scully still grasps the arm of her seat with a white-knuckled grip out of habit. She's gotten better about actual flights, but nothing can make her like taking off. As soon as the plane levels off and beverages are being served, Scully soothes her queasy stomach with some hot tea.

"So...wood nymphs, huh, Scully? Not to be confused or lumped together with dryads."

Flicking him an annoyed glance, she finishes her tea, hoping it will be enough to settle her quaking insides. "I wish I hadn't said anything. If you're going to keep reminding me about it, I have nothing to say to you."

Mulder arranges his face in what he hopes is a look of sincere remorse, "Aw, come on, I'm not making fun of you. You're just the last person I would've expected to know about that kind of thing."

"It isn't much, trust me," Scully assures him. He takes careful note of her wording: she's done nothing to outright deny any such knowledge. Thinking back to their meeting with Skinner, when he'd plied her for more information, she didn't say that she didn't know, she only deflected it away from herself, stressing that she isn't a professional in the field. As though she found such knowledge to be too shameful for polite company. The more he thinks about her reaction, the more hurt he feels. He lays himself bare before her, and she cringes back from this one little thing. Afraid he'll tease, lose respect for her.

"Come on, we have an hour. Tell me a story from the old country," he cajoles goodnaturedly, hoping to lure Scully out of her shell. Predictably, she shakes her head, but Mulder can see a small smile cross her face, as though he'd brought back some fond memory of her youth. He leans back in his seat and gives her a friendly nudge. "Please?"

"Maybe later, let me think of a good one."

"I'll hold you to that."

XXX

As soon as they land and get their bags, they head towards the gate and find Kolchak waiting for them with a sign. They wave to each other in recognition, and follow him out to his yellow Mustang. They put their luggage in the trunk and get in the car; Mulder takes the front passenger seat, leaving Scully to take the back.

"Agents Mulder and Scully," the older man says as he opens the door for the latter, tipping his hat charmingly as he helps her in. "I'm Carl Kolchak. Thanks for agreeing to come out." He gets in himself and starts the car, navigating the city with the expert ease of a native. "Glad to meet you at last, I've read enough about you both that I knew you were the ones to call in on something like this. Judging from your experience, this should just be another boring day at the office, shouldn't it?" He looks over his shoulder at Scully, who obligatorily gives him a tight, uncertain smile. "Don't get me wrong, I have my share of experience with the paranormal myself. I don't suppose you've seen of any of what I've written, though, the big boys tended to keep me pretty well hushed up. They all think I'm crazy, and I still can't show my face near the local PD without them trying to stop me from 'causing trouble,' as they call it."

"Yeah, we know what that's like, too," Mulder says, already feeling like they're on the same wavelength.

"So, where did you say these incidents occurred, Mr. Kolchak?" Scully asks.

"There's a large public park surrounded by woods just a few miles away on the outskirts. Beautiful place. Now the city is planning on cutting it in half since it borders a set of condos. They want to expand the parking lot or some rubbish like that. Now six of the workers have been stricken blind. No explanation, the doctors don't know what to make of it. Of course now their families are probably planning to sue for workman's compensation, get disability pay for what happened to them, since it was on the job and all. Tell you what, I'll get you to your hotel and you can get freshened up and ready, and I'll take you out there myself. I assume Mr. Skinner told you my theory?"

"He did, it definitely got our attention. My partner apparently knows a thing or two about this kind of thing," Mulder responds, giving Scully an encouraging look, hoping to nudge her into speech.

Stopping at an intersection, Kolchak looks highly interested at this, turning around to look at her as well. "Is that so?"

Scully takes a breath and makes a so-so gesture with her hand. "Just stories from when I was a kid. I have family in Ireland, when they'd come to visit they used to tell us stories; folklore, legends. It isn't much..."

"Enough to tell a dryad from a wood nymph, though, right?"

With a look that clearly tells Mulder that he's pushing his luck, Scully shades her eyes and ducks her head a little in embarrassment as she makes the distinction. "A dryad is a spirit of the tree itself. A wood nymph is a keeper of the forest. Legend has it that they strike their victims blind as punishment for seeing them without permission."

"Sounds like what we're dealing with," Kolchak remarks. "Any known way to cure them?"

With a high, derisive laugh, Scully immediately denies, "No! This is ridiculous. Look, I'm not saying that that's what it was, just...keep your mythology straight."

"Thank you, my dear, I most certainly will."

After a short delay sitting in traffic, the Mustang pulls up to their designated hotel. For the agents' safety, they'd actually snagged a pretty decent place. They unload their luggage, wash up and stretch their legs, change into some comfortable walking shoes and head out. It's a bright, sunny day in midsummer, perfect for an outdoor investigation. Luckily today's investigation shouldn't prove to be too gruesome to mar such a pleasant day.

Kolchak stops the car near the entrance to the park just outside of Chicago proper. They venture in, keeping a careful watch all around them. As they're walking along a shaded path in the woods, Scully stops short, flinging out her arm to keep the others from going any further. "Stop, stop, don't step there!"

"Why, what's the matter? I don't see anything," Mulder asks, looking all around for signs of danger while keeping Kolchak from stumbling over him in their haste to stop.

She points to the dark circle in the lighter colored grass just in front of them. It's dotted with toadstools and clover. "That's a faery ring, don't you know anything? We need to walk through that like we need a hole in the head." She steps around it, giving it a wide berth. The men follow her route around it, Kolchak giving her calculating look. In all that he'd heard about them, Agent Scully had been the Doubting Thomas to Mulder's Gullible Gus.

"I never would've had you pegged as superstitious," Mulder remarks.

"I'm Irish, remember?" she answers, as if that's explanation enough. "Besides, I thought everybody knew a faery ring when they saw one. Considering what you two gentlemen are expecting to find, it seems wise not to tempt fate." Scully gives her partner a teasing look, somewhat pleased that he's not as well-schooled as he'd always seemed in terms of the supernatural.

They carry on in relative silence for a few minutes, then Mulder breaks it abruptly.

"Kind of cute, actually. All these years, you've been holding out on me."

"Believe me, I'm not keeping anything from you. It's not my fault we never got on the topic of ancient folklore until now. Actually, they're not limited to Ireland, they're reputedly sighted all over-" she stops short, covering her mouth. It had been so long since those childhood days, those stories, but they're suddenly vivid in her memory. She looks guilty, like she'd revealed too much, let her mouth run away with her. This is worse than what had happened back in DC, at least then it could be brushed aside as some long-dormant memory coming to the surface, or just a little while ago in the car when she'd been asked specifically to clarify. She'd really put her foot in it this time, talking like she believes in fairies.

Kolchak gives her a long, slow gaze, taking stock of her again. "What else might you be able to tell us, young lady? Anything you remember could be useful." He sees her hesitate, shamefaced. "Go on, I won't use it against you. And your colleague here has already made it clear what he thinks."

"Yeah," Scully whispers, "That it's 'cute'."

"I'm sure he didn't mean it in a bad way," Kolchak assures her in an undertone. "We need to know what to do. Don't worry about looking ridiculous, you're in good company."

This remark makes her break into a short laugh, suddenly relieved by this simple truth. Of all people, these men would not be the ones to point and laugh at her. "All right, all right. Let's see, we've covered faery rings...I'd say it's a safe assumption that breaking any twigs or branches in these woods would be a bad idea. What else..." She strains her memory for something useful. "In the unlikely event we come across any leprechauns, for God's sake don't fall for the old "fourth wish" gag, that's for tourists and it makes you look like an idiot. Having a little salt with you is good protection in a pinch, or iron. They both are supposed to keep them from using their magic against you." The more she talks, the more relaxed she looks. Having fully outed herself, she actually smiles in relief. Scully looks over at her companions who are looking at her in awe.

"And you didn't think to bring any of those things, did you?" Mulder asks.

Scully takes out her keychain, one of the tokens hanging off of it is a black wrought-iron Celtic love knot, about an inch in diameter. "Can't be too careful," she admits, fingering it. Mulder looks at it, then at her, clearly curious why sensible, feet-on-the-ground Agent Scully would carry such a talisman.

"Did you get that from your aunt?" he asks, wondering what other 'precautions' his partner might have taken. Did she always carry it, or was it just for this case, due to the nature of it?

"No, actually, I picked it up last time I went out there to visit, years ago. Because of the shape and the material, it's supposed to protect its carrier...and those she loves." She looks up at him and then quickly away, aware of what she'd just suggested. She looks around nervously, glad that their guide in the Windy City had gone on ahead and hadn't overheard.

"Does it protect me?"

Unable to speak, she pauses for a moment in thought, then nods. A shy smile flutters at her lips, then quickly dies away. She plunges on ahead to follow Kolchak, glancing over her shoulder to make sure that Mulder is following close behind. A few paces ahead, a light wind blows through the trees, almost sounding like voices and flutes. It's so clear! Maybe just talking about the "little people" and their ways had sharpened Scully's ability to hear it. She stops, listening. Momentarily forgetting her advertized disdain and disbelief, she looks up and around herself wonderingly, dropping her cynicism like a discarded cloak. Drawn in, as though the music she hears touched some long-dead memory. A strange sense of certainty grips her out of the blue. "They're here," she whispers reverently, keeping her talisman pinched tightly between her fingers. "They might...actually be here! Listening. Watching us." She's perfectly still, feeling as though she can almost understand what the strange, musical whispering voices are saying. As though they're speaking to her directly.

Both men look up and around, straining their eyes and ears. "Did you hear anything?" Mulder asks. Kolchak shrugs, keeping a sharp eye on Scully. A moment or so later, though, it happens again, more clearly than before.

"I heard it that time," Kolchak says, turning on his trusty tape recorder in case it came again. "This gal's like Radar on MASH," he praises with a grin. "It might be a warning." The other two nod in agreement.

"They won't show themselves in the daylight hours. Most 'little people' are more active at night," Scully advises matter-of-factly. "If they are here, I suggest we come back at dusk. We'll need an offering of some kind to placate them. That's one thing my aunt was never specific about, probably didn't want us to try it at home." A delighted shiver goes up her spine; for once she's casting aside her typical stance as the resident skeptic as they're stepping into a world with which she is at least somewhat familiar. A sense of childlike wonder steals upon her as she dares to hope that it's true. Her companions' stunned silence, however, causes her to get defensive again. The spell is broken, and she feels wrenched roughly back into the human world. Scully huffs with her hands on her hips. "What? Everybody knows that!"

Kolchak puts a hand on her shoulder, giving her a pat, "No, my dear, not everyone. I must say, I'm glad to have you with us. I didn't know I was engaging an expert of fairyland when I called you two out here. So, we come back tonight, bring whatever we need to make them happy, and see if we can get whoever's behind this to knock it off. I don't know if they can restore the sight of those workers, but I'd like to at least see that they don't do it to anyone else who trespasses here."

"There's the key word, right there: Trespass," Scully points out. "Those workers came uninvited and unannounced, probably cutting down sacred trees. The natives here would have every reason to defend themselves, and to punish the invaders." She lays her palm against a tree, stroking its bark. A curious sensation wells up inside her and, startled by it, she quickly withdraws. What's gotten into me today? She ponders, since when did I believe or even remember any of that old stuff? Kids' stories, superstitions, malarkey! She reaches back out for the tree again, snatching her hand back guiltily and following their path back out to the car in a rapid march. Being the first one back to the car, she hops in the front seat and sits, mentally scolding herself for her behavior, her deviation. Kolchak catches up and sits next to her in the driver's seat, looking at her sympathetically.

Poor kid, he thinks, must be hard at first, to believe. He pats her hand and tilts her chin up. Mulder is still trailing behind, so they have a moment alone. "What's the matter, Agent Scully?"

Looking around to make sure Mulder was still out of range, she whispers, "I don't want to believe!"

"That's all right. I understand. But what's wrong with believing?"

"It's...it's..."

Somehow able to guess her concerns, Kolchak voices them himself, "Not normal, not accepted. Not expected. Crazy, even. Right?" Scully nods. "Well, I don't think you're crazy. I'd be the last person to tell someone that. Your expertise, whether you're proud or ashamed of it, or if you even accept it, is invaluable to this case. I know it. Like the saying goes, don't hide your light under a bushel. Right?"

"You heard me talking back there, that's not...I never...I just felt..." she stammers, unable to describe the oneness she'd felt with the woods, the living trees, the music no one let themselves hear. She'd instinctively known the intentions of beings unseen. Sympathized with them and their cause, justified it! "I've never felt that way before," Scully murmurs, just as her partner reaches the car. Scully pulls herself together and starts digging around in her purse just to keep her hands occupied, hoping that Mulder wasn't ready with a straightjacket for her.

"You all right?" he asks. She nods silently. "You're sure?"

"I'm fine," she replies.

"There's a new one," Mulder mutters, unconvinced. Kolchak turns around in his seat to face him, gestures to tone it down and not make a big thing out of it. Wisely, Mulder chooses to change the subject. "Well, since we're coming back here tonight, let's go grab something to eat and see what we need to bring back with us."

"I know a library that should have what we need. I've been there enough times," Kolchak remarks. "Unless you have an idea, Agent Scully?"

She blushes, hating her role in this investigation more and more. Still, she nods, "Some," she whispers raspily. "God...I didn't know! I never knew this wasn't common knowledge! I'm not trying to be an expert on this, but it just seems to make sense. The pattern, the motive, the location, everything! It speaks to me..." she sighs dreamily, immediately hating herself for it. "Is this what it's like for you, Mulder? All those times you had to spell it out to me and I still didn't see it? Is this what it's like?"

"Kind of. I don't think you're crazy, though," he promises her. He looks between the front seats and sees Kolchak give her hand a squeeze for support. "Just calm down before you hurt yourself. It's all okay. I understand how you feel; you're used to being the normal one, so when things happen to you, it freaks you out. Like the time we were in the haunted house, you had to pretend that didn't happen. Or the case with the demon that was after those deformed girls, those half-angels? You've seen things, Scully. It's time to admit it to yourself. That's why this is hard, because this time you have to show me what we're looking for, what to do. This is your home court, whether you want to admit it or not. You could even chalk it up to genetics. Maybe something in your breeding makes you more predisposed to see and hear and understand these beings. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

With great effort, Scully turns around and faces him, "They're real."

XXX

They drive back into the city and stop at a bar and grill type of place for dinner. Right off the bat, Mulder orders his partner a glass of house chardonnay, figuring she needed something for the shock she'd had today. Existential meltdowns take a lot out of one, a little alcohol usually helps. As soon as it's set before her, she drinks off half of the glass in one gulp. Mulder tells the server to bring another while they order.

During their meal, Scully describes what must be done when they return that night, there must be some sort of ritual to gain audience with the wood nymphs, and to call them off. To get in their good graces, an offering of some sort must be made, or their efforts would most likely fail. Mulder and Kolchak both check out the library for some background reading together, while Scully makes a grocery run to buy what she thought was needed. This time she's let herself go fully on autopilot, trusting her instincts in the matter of what would make a suitable offering. A pint-sized bottle of whole milk, some small cakes, honey, and a few pats of butter seemed just right. She even bought some diminutive cups and plates for the offering, somehow she knew it wouldn't be appropriate or respectful to simply cast it on the ground like they were feeding squirrels or ducks. A white pillar candle seemed appropriate as well, and some matches. On the way to the checkout, she selects a mini-fridge sized four pack of sweet red wine, one bottle should be enough to bring along to the park. Again, instinct told her it was important to share in it, to prove to the mystical creatures that she meant no ill. Scully pays and leaves the store, glad that her purchases fit in a single bag. She then makes way for the hotel to wait for Kolchak and Mulder to return from their research.

When she enters her room, she find both men there waiting for her already, with a few books scattered about. Kolchak apparently still had useful contacts among esoteric circles and had turned out in fine form. They're both staring into one old and crumbling volume, transfixed. They hear her shut the door behind her and jump, giving her the same piercing look they'd been giving the book between them. Mulder silently beckons her over to see for herself. Scully sets her shopping bag down on the TV stand, and goes over to them. "This could explain a lot," Mulder says, tapping an illustration and its caption.

Apprehensively, Scully leans down for a better look, slipping on her glasses to see more clearly. There, in scratched and faded ink, in a book that looks at least a hundred years old, is copied a most remarkable portrait. The clothes date it back even further, closer to the Middle Ages or even earlier. Still, there's no denying it, Agent Scully stares down into the face and finds that it's her own. Understandably shaken, she sinks down onto the bed next to her cohorts, clutching a hand over her heart. She reads the caption: Tuatha de Danann.

"Looks like I wasn't far off, huh, Scully?"

"That's...that's impossible. You think, what, that I'm some sort of..."

" 'The Tuatha are trooping faeries, warriorlike in temperament, but fair and just,'" Mulder reads, giving her a pointed look as though he thought she fit the bill. " 'Their Goddess Dana is one of the earliest named Great Mother Goddesses in Western Europe.' Could be why you felt such a strong connection earlier."

Scully shakes her head, "Mulder, that dates back centuries ago, and in case it's not blindingly obvious, I'm not a faery goddess. The fact that I have the same first name as one is clearly a coincidence."

"I didn't say you were the Goddess Dana, but you could be descended from her. The resemblance is uncanny. And you know full well that not all faeries look like Tinkerbell. 'They are male, female, and children, and look exactly like humans only somewhat smaller.' You're, what, 5'2"? I'd call that somewhat smaller."

"It's not unusual. Besides, if I had faery blood, I'd have some special or unique power or gift or something."

"You've been pretty lucky, from what your partner tells me," Kolchak puts in his two cents. "By my count, you should've been dead at least 5 times over by now. And you could withstand the gaze of the seraphim, Mulder told me about that. No ordinary mortal can look at one of those and live."

"Plus, look at your diet, you're practically vegetarian most days. Faeries don't eat meat." Now Mulder gets up and is examining what Scully had bought at the store. "Hey, Kolchak, look at this. Just like the book says to bring for them." They both dig through the bag to examine her purchases.

Here, Scully fumbles, "It just seemed right at the time," she suggests lamely.

Kolchak stands next to her and takes her by the shoulders, "You can't deny your birthright. This could actually make things a lot easier. If you have favor among the faery-folk, they might do what you ask. These wood nymphs may recognize you, or at least who your great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother was. Isn't that extraordinary? Exciting, even? Who better to smooth relations between these two worlds than someone whose blood is mingled with theirs?"

"I can't be," Scully whispers.

Naturally, Mulder counters, "Why not? Look, just because you don't have dragonfly wings or a magic wand, that doesn't mean you can't be what you in all likelihood are."

"If Missy was part faery, she wouldn't have died," she pronounces hoarsely. Mentioning her sister takes an obvious strain on her. It's the opening and closing argument against her heritage.

"Nowhere in any of these books does it say that faeries are immortal or impervious to Earthly hurts or illnesses. They're just as vulnerable as humans, when you come down to it. They might have a longer life expectancies, quicker reflexes or a heightened ability to heal, but...they die just the same as we do in the end."

Scully sits back down on the edge of the bed, tired out by the stress of the day and what they're about to face in just a short while. "What have you found out about getting them to talk to us? To clear off and maybe heal the people they've blinded? I mean, I have a pretty good idea what they want. Just, both of you, be careful. Don't touch anything they offer you or they could trap you in their realm. Be careful what you say to them and around them; if you insult anybody, we're screwed. We can't take any risks. We'll probably need to somehow convince the people behind this development project to build elsewhere."

"Leave that to me, that's local affairs. You're just here to see if there's anything we can do for the victims, and to straighten out relations," Kolchak tells her.

"Pun intended?" she asks with half a smile.

He smiles back, "Completely."

She sighs a deep breath, stands, looks up at the ceiling and announces, "All right, better get this over with. My name is Dana Scully and I'm a faery-child." Both men clap for her as she sits back down. "They might like it if we could plant a few trees to replace the ones that got cut down. Even a few seedlings might suffice, they'd appreciate the gesture. Let them know we're on their side. And don't forget, we're on their turf, we're in the position to demand nothing. We ask. Nicely."

Both men nod, "We can do that," Kolchak agrees. "Good idea about replanting, too. I think they'd like that. Lucky it's the right time of year, we should be able to find what we need at a garden center or tree nursery. We'd better get a move on before they close for the night."

XXX

Once again, they all pile into his car and go in search of a place that will sell them some young trees. As soon as that transaction is completed, they head back to the woods they'd visited a few hours ago. Scully goes in front with the lit white candle as well as a plate arranged with their offerings. She advances, kneeling down and placing it on the ground where they'd heard the voices in the wind. "H-hello?" Scully calls, "We..." she falters, unsure what she's going to say. She hadn't really planned anything specific. Doubt begins creeping up on her again. What if they didn't find them? What if what she'd experienced earlier was all in her head? Clearing her throat, she begins again, this time a bit stronger, "We want there to be peace between us. We've come to heal some of the hurts you've suffered, and to bring these gifts." Behind her, Mulder and Kolchak plant the little trees as a sign of goodwill.

Then the wind rises in a warm gust, "The mortals must shield their eyes," a female voice floats out, not unkindly. When they have done so, a small slender creature in the shape of a human girl steps forward. It carries with it the soft glow of starlight, with shimmering silver hair and pointed ears. It regards her guest with regal green almond-shaped eyes. Scully stares. The fact that she can gaze at it unharmed is further proof of her lineage. The nymph picks up the cup of milk and drinks, then holds it out to Scully, who drinks from it as well. "Peace between us," the nymph agrees. "I think you're proof enough of that. Our people were not always estranged. Do you remember? We once lived together harmoniously."

"Yes," Scully whispers. Now that she lets herself, in her heart, she remembers that togetherness. That near-symbiotic relationship their people had once shared, even if it never happened in her lifetime. "Can you really tell?"

The nymph answers in a lilting, musical voice,"I see you for what you are. And even though we are many generations removed from our ancestral home, I know your face, for she is still known to many. There are others like you, of this I am certain. Yet none of them realize. So sad, so very sad. Not to know what they even are. How lost and lonely they must be. And different, always different. No matter how human someone like you might be, you are marked, and you know it. Maybe others sense it, shy away from you without knowing why," she peers over at Mulder and Kolchak, "and others draw near to you, and know you for a friend. Perhaps that's why you came here, why you heard our music first, before your friends did." There is a long silence while the nymph inspects the rest of the offerings. It seems delighted with the simple meal of cake with honey and butter. Again, it gives some to share with Scully. As they finish the wine, the nymph speaks again. "You are most hospitable. You seem to be good, honest, kind, well brought-up. Much better than those noisy, clumsy, wasteful brutes who killed my trees. My beautiful trees. And for what? More noisy, clumsy, wasteful people to come tromping over my home. They do not love the wood as we do."

"No, they don't," she agrees, almost entranced, finding that her tone is falling into step with the nymph, following the same meter and pattern.

"What did you come here for? What do you wish of me?"

"There were men here, men that lost their sight. Please heal them, if you can."

Only then does the nymph show a sign of real anger, "They killed my trees!" She hisses. "Then they looked upon me without permission, and were punished for their impudence."

"Please, we'll do our best to stop more from coming, but give those men back their sight. They didn't know, and they don't understand. They're not like us. They only did it because someone told them to, paid them to. We don't know if they're good or bad men, if they meant harm or if they were just doing what they were told."

The nymph looks up at her steadily, "You speak for them?"

"I...suppose I do. Or at least, for their families, who depend on them."

"Yes, their families," she repeats pondering to herself. "Are there still humans who keep the Old Ways? Who respect us and our homes?"

Unable to speak from experience, Scully supposes, "There must be."

"What is your name?" the nymph asks, changing the subject.

"Dana."

The nymph smiles,"Yes, of course it is. Strange how it might be so. It is true that the past never vanishes completely. It leaves its mark, gets passed down, entrusted to the new. Keep it well, and pass it on in your time."

Scully nods, "I will."

During their interview, out of the corner of her eye, Scully sees the soft glow of little lights hovering in the surrounding grass. A small band of faery-folk creep nearer, cautiously, still hidden among the greenery."Your family keeps the Old Ways?"

"Some of them," Scully allows, looking askance at their company. When she turns her head to look directly at them, they freeze in place and blend in with the surrounding flora.

"And your friends are trustworthy? Are they friends of our people?"

"I...think they would be, if it was allowed. Yes, I'm sure of it."

Looking past Scully at Mulder and Kolchak, seeing that throughout the entire interview, they'd obediently kept their eyes hidden, the nymph studies them for a while, then appears to come to a decision. "Then your friends may look now."

Once again the wind raises in soft breaths, and the gentle sound of pipes ring out. As the last notes hang in the air, they are joined by the sound of small drums. All three of them look around at the woods, beneath the stars and bright moon is a gathering of little people. Some dressed in floral colors, others favoring greens and reds, coming out to peer at the humans in their midst. Kolchak holds up his camera to get a picture and it's immediately snatched away and pocketed by Mulder. The wee folk speak together in their tiny voices, in strange tongues, as though they're holding a meeting. After what appears to be a great debate among them, they reach a conclusion. The wood nymph steps forward and speak only to Scully, "We have agreed; the interlopers will have their sight restored, and we will not hinder humans who pass through our wood peacefully, but you must agree that we have the right to defend ourselves, and our homes. Is that not so?" Scully nods. "They must cease their noise and destruction, and not chop down any tree unless it stands dead and rotted, and even in that case, only if it not home to creatures of the forest. If they break this law, they will be punished.

"Leave that to me, I'll make sure to pass the word along," Kolchak speaks up. "I live in the city, I know some people who might listen to me. Hopefully," he ends in an undertone.

Scully then asks,"Will you allow people to come here?"

"People are always allowed to come here, so long as they do no harm. There are so few of us left to tend to our wood, we've been scattered, routed out. We do, however, enjoy watching humans, especially the children. They are innocent. Very well, what you ask will be done. Now, mortals and faery-child, you must leave "

XXX

It was all over the papers the next day, the miraculous restoration of the construction workers' sight. Mulder and Scully both agreed to stay in town a bit longer to help Kolchak sort everything out. Mulder is with Scully in her hotel room, watching her pack with a thoughtful expression.

"You know, this makes me wonder...which of the things we know about faeries are true."

"Like what?" Scully asks, wedging her shoes into the corners of her suitcase.

"You know like in Peter Pan, if someone says 'I don't bel-'" Scully claps a hand over his mouth, then brings it around her neck with a strangled gulp. "Calm down, I wouldn't have said the whole thing. Besides, if clapping really helped, I'd bring you back," Mulder smirks.

"Not...funny," she hisses.

Together, after calling in a few favors from higher up, and a touch of professional saber-rattling, they proved quite convincing. The parking lot expansion plan would therefore be shelved indefinitely. Before taking them back to the airport to catch their flight home, Kolchak takes a detour back to the park. Walking its paths by the light of day, one could hardly imagine the strange nighttime negotiation that had occurred here. Just a foot away from where she's standing, Scully hears something drop to the ground and roll towards her. Curious, she bends down to investigate. There, in a small nest of leaves, lies a silver acorn, about the size of her thumbnail, wreathed in a thin golden crown. With a serene smile, she pockets it as she says goodbye to the wood and its unseen dwellers. All is well.