"Turn the boat," he shouted to the stunned man who had been steering. "Turn the… aw, forget it," he snarled, then hurried to take the wheel and yank it hard to the right. "Keep singing ladies," Brooklyn called out. "I can't see you, but I can hear you. I need you to guide me."

The girls began singing again, this time it was a haunting tune, especially out in the building fog. He was going to have to ask them why Irish tunes sounded like that.

It was a haunting tune about a highwayman and his love, Bess. A fitting song for a dark and foggy night, Brooklyn thought with a grimace.

He was almost distracted by the raised voices, attempting to navigate away from the rocks he knew they were sitting on, when a scrambling sound behind him caught his attention. Brooklyn turned slightly and raised his left arm out of habit and the wooden stool leg meant for his head hit his arm and shattered into splinters.

Brooklyn snarled, his eyes luminescing brilliant white in the darkness.

"Sit down," he ground out, reeling from the attack and the pain in his arm. The man stared at him in horror then looked at the small piece of his improvised weapon still in his hands.

"You were about to go face first into the rocks," Brooklyn growled. "Your ship would have wrecked and you all would have gone straight into the sea. Now go. Sit. Down."

The man backed away slowly, sinking down to sit with the other stunned partygoers.

Brooklyn sighed. "Just like old times," he muttered. "I can't believe I almost miss this sometimes."

More voices joined the females, but something was… off. Where the clan had sung the night before, all of the voices had blended seamlessly with the ease and talent of a family who had done it their whole lives.

This was…

Brooklyn squinted into the darkness as one by one, small lights began dotting cliffs and outlining the slope towards the beach shoreline.

The humans, he realized. Not only were they singing with the clan, but they were helping to light the way and leading them to safety.

"Huh," Brooklyn chuckled. "That's handy." He turned and angled to where the lights were leading him. More and more voices and lights joined in until the beach and attached dock were clearly outlined.

"Would ye be needin' some help, then?"

Brooklyn looked up and spotted Piper, one of the Emerald Isle clan, coming in to land beside him.

Brooklyn nodded, handing the wheel over gladly. He'd never actually been on a boat like this before, let alone tried to pilot one. "It's all yours," Brooklyn said.

Piper grabbed the wheel and began effortlessly navigating the vessel.

Brooklyn backed up a few steps, then knelt on the deck and cradled his injured arm. Now that he didn't really have anything to do, it was really starting to hurt.

"Uh, sir?" a hesitant voice came from behind him, and Brooklyn lifted his gaze to see a petite blonde standing there, nervousness fairly radiating from her.

"Yeah?" he asked. Honestly, he hadn't meant to snap at her, but his nerves were frayed, and his arm hurt.

Without a word, the woman approached slowly and held out a small bag. He took it, realizing that it was a makeshift ice pack.

Brooklyn blinked at it a few times, then lifted his gaze to hers. "Thank you," he said softly.

"Thank you for the help," she returned. "We could have been seriously hurt without your help."

Brooklyn gingerly placed the ice on his arm. It wouldn't make a difference, since he'd be fully healed the following night, but this human didn't know that which made her act of kindness all the better.

Brooklyn turned forward again to find that they were almost at the dock.

With two more thumps, Harper and Fife swooped in, helping to lower the sails and slow the boat down.

Brio was on the end of the dock, and Fife tossed the rope to him. Expertly, Brio pulled the ship close to the dock, tying it securely to the dock at the front while Harper hopped off to do the same at the rear.

Fife hopped onto the dock, and was already helping the shaken humans from the boat onto the dock.

At some point, Melody, Harmony and Rhapsody joined them on the dock, making sure that the humans were unhurt.

When, at last, the shaken boat's captain was helped off, the sound of applause began to echo into the night.

When the area was suddenly illuminated as the lighthouse lamp suddenly and blindingly lit, the applause led to cheers.

Brooklyn was still kneeling on the deck of the ship, opting to stay there, and let the Irish clan absorb the much deserved and long overdue praise.

Brooklyn saw the moment that they realized it was for them, in the sudden stillness in their bodies, the widening of the eyes, and even in the slight fear in their eyes.

"Don't run," Brooklyn said softly. Too softly to be heard, even with their super hearing, though he wanted to shout it. In the end, it had to be their choice. If they ran now, they would remain in the shadows, the humans uneasy with their presence. If they stood, the humans may begin the process of accepting them among them.

"Don't run," he whispered again.

"Fairy!" a small voice called out, accompanied by the slap of feet on the wood dock.

Rhapsody turned, and looked in shock at the small girl who ran at her.

The girl stopped, bounced on her feet in her excitement. "Fairy!" she practically shouted again, pointed with a pudgy finger at Rhapsody's wings. "Wings! Fairy!"

Rhapsody gave a slow smile, kneeling to be close to the girl's height. "Hello, little one," she said slowly. She extended her wings, and the girl reached out to softly stroke them.

A couple of humans hurried to the girl, the man lifting her in his arms.

Rhapsody slowly stood, unsure of how the parents were going to react.

"Sorry," the woman said, breathless from her dash down the dock. "Fiona is obsessed with her Fairy storybook, and their wings look like yours."

Relieved that she wasn't going to be on the receiving end of anger, Rhapsody smiled widely. "'Tis no hardship," She said, reaching out to tickle the girl's belly, "to be seen as a beautify fairy."

Brooklyn bit back the urge to laugh. He knew some fairies, real Fae, and they were rarely classically pretty.

Slowly, the humans converged on the dock, all but herding the clan members onto solid ground. They were asked questions, slapped on the back, hands shook.

Eventually, the remaining members of the clan joined the others on the beach where they were invited into the fray.

Hudson and Garia landed beside Brooklyn on the boat, rather than joining the gathering.

"Ye alright, lad?" Hudson asked, holding a hand out to help Brooklyn to his feet.

"I'm good," Brooklyn said. He took hold of Hudson's arm and hefted himself up to his feet. "How did the meeting go?"

"They want to join," Hudson said with a smile. "They're sending two clan members back with us to learn more about it."

"That's great," Brooklyn said.

"Aye," Garia said.

"Sooo," Brooklyn turned to Garia. "What happened with the lighthouse?"

"The automatic timer lost power," Garia shrugged. "I reconnected it, but it took me a wee bit o time to find where the failure had happened."

"Okay…" Brooklyn said, slowly.

Garia rolled her eyes, sighed, and sent him a look. "I fixed it."

"Cool," Brooklyn said.

"Where were the O'Sheas?" Hudson asked.

"There was a note on the lighthouse door." Garia grinned. "Shannon went into labor before sundown. Matt took the couple to the Medical center."

"Matt? Our Matt?" Brooklyn asked, shocked. "Matt Bluestone who passed out cold during the birth of his own daughter?"

"That be the one," Garia laughed. "I wasn't in Manhattan when that happened, but I've heard the story."

"Everyone has," Brooklyn said with a smirk.