Tam Lin 
By Pequod (pe.quod@virgin.net)

Chapter Eight 

It seemed as though the walk back to the cottage 
took forever. Scully was practically running by the 
time they arrived at the front gate to Carter Hall.

The cottage was in total darkness as they 
approached, the beam of the flashlight bouncing off 
whitewashed walls and black-hole windows. Scully 
inserted her key and her heart sank as she opened 
the door to a cold and silent living room. 

She dumped her keys on the wooden sideboard and 
ignored them as they skidded off the edge and 
clattered to the hard floor. 

She moved swiftly through the small cottage, doors 
banging behind her as she abandoned one empty room 
for the next. She knew Mulder wasn't going to be in 
any of the rooms; there was no reason for the 
entire cottage to be in darkness, and he would 
surely have come out by now to see what all the 
noise was. She kept looking nevertheless. Maybe he 
had a migraine or something and needed to lie down. 
She didn't think he ever got migraines, at least 
ones not brought on by psychosis, but there was a 
first time for everything. Wasn't there? 

Despondent, she returned to the living room, where 
Monty was waiting. 

"Try not to worry, Dana. If Mulder was able to get 
a signal up on the hill he might have telephoned 
the house and left a message for you there. And 
what about your cellphone? You can leave messages 
on that can't you?" 

God, her cellphone. She'd become so used to not 
using it since arriving that she hadn't even given 
it a second thought. 

She ran into her bedroom and rummaged in her 
suitcase until she found it. She switched it on and 
appraised the blank screen. 

Monty moved so that he was looking over her 
shoulder. "Is there a message?" 

"I can't tell. You need a signal to be able to 
access any messages. I forgot about that." 

"Well, why don't we head over to the house and see 
if he has called there. If he hasn't, we can drive 
up to McLeod's Point where you can get a signal." 

Scully grabbed her fleece and jacket and they 
headed out into the dark. She had a feeling this 
was going to be a long night. 

... 

Mulder had not left any messages at the house, as 
far as they could tell, and now they were heading 
towards McLeod's Point in the old Landrover. Peters 
was at the wheel, and Scully hoped he wasn't as 
easily distracted today as he had been at the 
party. Dropping glasses was one thing; driving off 
a cliff quite another. 

They drove the four miles in silence. God, she 
hoped there was a message, hoped that he was 
sitting in Shifty's cottage having been caught out 
by the fading light. She would kill him, of course, 
for being stupid enough to go out into the woods 
ill-prepared and making her worry like this. What 
if he said he was injured? What if he was lying 
somewhere in pain while she had been sleeping off a 
large whisky in the pub? 

She tapped Monty on the shoulder. "How much longer 
until we reach McLeod's Point, Monty?" 

"We're here now, dear," Monty replied and Peters 
brought the Landrover to rest at the side of the 
road. 

Scully leapt out and switched the phone on again. 
The signal indicator blinked proudly at her, but 
there was no message envelope. She dialed Mulder's 
number and heard only the recording informing her 
that the person she was trying to reach was 
unavailable. 

She snapped the phone shut in frustration and 
turned to Monty, shaking her head at his enquiring 
look. 

"I think we need to call for help, Monty. It's 
late, it's cold, he's been gone for nearly five 
hours when he should have been back a long time 
ago." 

She handed the phone to Monty. "Call the emergency 
services and whoever else deals with these 
situations. Tell them we have a Federal officer 
missing and we need to coordinate a search and 
rescue. Maybe we should get a team together of our 
own and head out to the crime scene. Can you 
organize some of your staff into a search party?" 

"I'll call the emergency services and they will 
contact the ARCC, that's the Aeronautical Rescue 
Co-ordination Centre. They deal with all Search and 
Rescue situations. I will certainly get as many 
people as I can together for a search party, but we 
must wait until the officers arrive from ARCC 
Kinloss. If we rush off into the night looking for 
Mulder, it will only result in them having to look 
for us when we get lost. And if they're looking for 
us, they're not concentrating their efforts on 
finding Mulder. And Dana..." 

He looked her in the eye and smiled slightly. 
"Don't rub the RAF up the wrong way, will you? 
You're not in charge over here and they don't like 
being told what to do. Just a piece of advice from 
a friend." 

"I appreciate what you are saying, Monty. But my 
only consideration is to find Mulder before he 
freezes to death. I'll do whatever it takes to make 
sure that happens." 

Monty smiled again and rubbed her shoulder. "I'll 
go and do the necessary, dear." 

Soon, Scully could hear him barking orders into the 
phone. She stared out over the dark expanse of sea. 

Pinpricks of light flickered along the coastline of 
Skye, the many lighthouses flashing their danger 
signs. If she watched for long enough, Scully knew 
that she would be able to tell the individual 
lighthouses from the length of time between each 
rotation. She looked behind her at the black mass 
of hills barely discernible from the night sky. 
Mulder was out there somewhere. There was no 
comforting light to warn him of danger and gently 
guide him to safer waters. He was in trouble; of 
that she was certain. 

Panic welled inside her. What if he was dead? The 
thought popped into her head and lodged itself 
there. Would she know? She had known when her 
father had died. Her bond with Mulder was different 
to what she'd had with her father, but it was 
strong nevertheless. She had accepted his death in 
New Mexico; had felt the heat from the boxcar and 
known without a doubt that he was dead. There was 
no way he could have survived such a ferocious 
fire. And then she had dreamt about him so vividly 
that she had woken convinced that he was still 
alive. She couldn't explain it, and would never 
admit it to Mulder, but deep inside she had felt 
his presence, not as a spirit or as a memory, but 
his vitality, his life force, his chi, as Melissa 
would have called it. 

This morning, when she had woken next to him, she 
had felt as though the final connection had been 
made. All the little threads that held their lives 
together had been gathered up and pulled tight. 
Surely she would have felt the loss if the bond had 
broken. She would feel the emptiness. 

She didn't feel anything right now. She couldn't 
decide whether that was a good thing or a bad 
thing. 

She jumped when Monty tapped her on the shoulder 
and handed back her phone. 

"I've alerted the emergency services and the local 
Mountain Rescue Team is assembling in Fort William, 
so they should be here within a couple of hours." 

Scully stared at Monty. "A couple of hours? That's 
far too long. The temperature is already 
dangerously low. If he's injured and exposed, 
hypothermia will be taking a hold, and once that 
happens..." God, Scully didn't even want to think 
about it. 

"The ARCC has its own MRT and a Sea King helicopter 
carrying them here from RAF Kinloss will probably 
be airborne by the time we get back to the house." 

Scully headed back to the Landrover. "Well, let's 
get back and organize our own crew. That way we can 
be ready to go to Carterhaugh Wood when the RAF 
arrives." 

She might only be a civilian in this country, but 
there was no way she was just going to sit around 
like a panicking relative or loved one, waiting and 
hoping. She had to do something to find Mulder and 
she didn't care how many burly RAF officers she 
pissed off in the process. 

... 

Monty continued to make calls and by the time they 
arrived back at the house the driveway was already 
cluttered with vehicles. 

DS Mackenzie met them as they pulled up behind the 
other vehicles. 

He nodded at Monty. "Dana, it's nice to see you 
again, although not under these circumstances, of 
course." 

"How did you get here so quickly, Bill? I would 
have thought you'd be back in Kyle of Lochalsh by 
now, eating your dinner." "I should be by rights, 
only Mrs MacPherson wanted a chat, and you know 
what she's like when she gets going. I'd only got 
halfway up the pass before I got the call about 
Mulder." 

He turned towards Scully. "So, you definitely think 
something has happened to him, then?" 

"It must have. He's been gone far too long and he 
didn't take any equipment with him. I think he had 
his flashlight and that's about it." 

They walked towards the large playing field at the 
side of the house. The headlights of two four-wheel 
drive vehicles illuminated a group of five people 
poring over a map that was spread out on the hood 
of a pickup truck. 

Mackenzie continued to question Scully as they 
approached the men. "And he's usually quite good at 
calling and letting you know where he is, I take 
it?" 

Scully hesitated. "Um, well, he doesn't always 
call." Make that he doesn't always call and when he 
does he never gives a straight answer to her 
questions, she thought. "But he's never been in a 
situation like this before. There's nowhere for him 
to go, nothing for him to do. He was supposed to 
meet you and then come to the pub. I can't think of 
any reason why those plans should have changed. 
It's not even as though he might have bumped into 
Shifty and got talking about old times. Shifty was 
in the pub with us the whole time." 

They arrived beside the pickup truck and Monty 
clapped a couple of the men on the back and 
proceeded to go over the map with them. 

Mackenzie looked puzzled. "The fact that he was on 
his way to the crime scene has been niggling at me 
for some time. You see, there's only one route he 
would have followed to the woods, and my men and I 
used it to on the way back to the pub. I can't 
understand why we didn't meet on the path." 

Scully's reply was drowned out by the noise of the 
huge Westland Sea King helicopter as it loomed out 
of the darkness and landed on the twenty-five yard 
line. 

The cargo door opened and a stream of jump-suited 
RAF aircrew poured out. A tall, lean figure strode 
over to the group. 

Mackenzie looked at Scully and raised his eyebrows. 
"The ego has landed," he muttered. He grinned and 
held out his hand. "Flight Lieutenant Henderson. A 
pleasure, as always." 

"Save it for someone who cares, Mackenzie," came 
the reply in a decidedly female voice. The officer 
removed her helmet to reveal a strong, angular 
face. Her dark hair was arranged neatly in a French 
braid. She was very striking, and her height gave 
her an imposing manner; her height, and the fact 
that she was glowering at everyone in range of her 
blue eyes. 

Undeterred by her dismissive remark, Mackenzie 
smiled and waved Scully forward. 

"Dana Scully, meet Flight Lieutenant Jane 
Henderson. She's the officer who will be 
coordinating the search for Agent Mulder. 
Henderson... Agent Scully." 

Henderson nodded curtly. "Miss Scully." Scully 
smiled thinly. 

"It's Dr. Scully, actually, Flight Lieutenant, and 
now that you are here I think we should get this 
show on the road." Henderson ignored her and 
addressed Monty. 

"I have thirty aircrew who will form the core of 
the mountain rescue team. One team will go directly 
to the area where Agent Mulder was supposed to be 
heading. The other teams will divide up the map of 
the surrounding area between them. I will take my 
pilot, winchman and winch operator and we will use 
the helicopter's night vision goggles and infrared 
camera to explore the area from the air. If he's 
out there then the camera will identify his heat 
source and we can either collect him ourselves if 
it is safe to do so, or direct the nearest ground 
crew to his position." 

"I have a small group of volunteers," Monty told 
Henderson. "They're experienced at search and 
rescue, and they all know the hills like the back 
of their hands." 

"I don't want a bunch of civilians out there, 
Monty. They'll only do something stupid and then 
we'll have lots of casualties and not just the 
one." 

Henderson started to move towards her aircrew, who 
were drinking tea helpfully provided by the cook 
from Carter Hall. Scully moved in front of her. 

"Flight Lieutenant. I really think I ought to go 
with the team headed for the crime scene. I've been 
to the area already and I know the route Mulder 
would have taken. I..." 

Henderson sighed and fixed her with a glare. "Why 
is it that other people always seem to know how to 
do my job better than I do? I just said I don't 
want any civilians getting lost on the hills." 

Scully raised herself up as best she could on her 
walking boots, cursing the fact that she wasn't 
wearing her heels today. "I'm an officer with the 
FBI. I have been involved with search and rescue 
operations before. I know what I am doing and I 
would like the opportunity to help find my partner. 
Now if you won't assign me to the team, I will 
organize my own search party. I would much rather 
work with your crew and share our knowledge, but I 
am quite capable of working by myself if I have 
to." 

Henderson waved her hand dismissively. "Monty. 
Assign one of your volunteers to each of my teams, 
but tell them they had better not get in the way or 
else I shall instruct my men to leave them behind 
and we won't bother coming to the rescue." With 
that she was off to brief her crew. 

Scully had the distinct impression that the woman 
wasn't joking. God, if this was what the rescue 
team was like she'd hate to have the RAF as an 
enemy. 

Monty headed over with a map and coordinates and a 
radio. 

"I told you not to rub anyone up the wrong way. I'm 
glad I don't have to sit in that helicopter with 
her. She frightens me and I fought in the Falklands 
war, you know." He gave Scully a pat on the back. 
"Keep close to the others in your team. They know 
what they are doing. And try not to worry, my dear. 
If he's out there, we'll find him." 

Yes, but in what condition, thought Scully but she 
didn't say anything to Monty. 

"I'll be fine, Monty. I just need to be doing 
something." 

"I know, dear. I know. Good luck!" 

Scully joined her team members who were thankfully 
more welcoming than Henderson had been, and soon 
they were on the path that led to Carterhaugh Wood. 
Scully realised, as they rounded the back of the 
house, that she was in the very spot where she had 
last seen Mulder. She looked at her watch. It was 
six thirty. Five and a half hours since she had he 
had walked down this path. She hoped it wouldn't be 
another five and a half hours before they found 
him. 

... 

Scully and her team followed the path diligently. 
When they stopped to rest at a stone cairn, Scully 
was reminded of Mulder's description of the route 
as a coffin route. That was something she didn't 
want to think about too closely. 

The Sea King buzzed overhead occasionally as they 
continued down the path. As they approached the 
clearing in the woods where they had found Hamish's 
body, Scully's heartbeat quickened. All of the 
other bodies had been found in this vicinity. Panic 
welled inside her and she swallowed hard to prevent 
it overwhelming her. Huge tree trunks materialised 
out of the darkness and then were swallowed back 
into the night as she swept the area with her 
flashlight. The tension mounted as the search 
continued. Each indistinct shape was a body, 
Mulder's body, until the beam identified it as just 
another bolder, another dense shrub. 

If this were a movie, she would find a piece of 
torn cloth fastened to a briar, or maybe a trail of 
sunflower seeds. Of course, this was the real world 
and it was dark and freezing and God, was that a 
snowflake that just landed on the tip of her nose? 
Another one caught in her eyelash and she blinked 
it away. Snow was the last thing they needed right 
now. 

Jameson, the team leader, approached her. 
"Henderson's just been on the radio. The helicopter 
has spotted a heat source half a mile north of our 
location. It's in dense woodland so the helicopter 
can't get close enough to send down the winchman. 
I'm going to take one of my men to check it out." 

"Is the heat source moving?" 

"It hasn't moved in the time the helicopter has 
been observing it." Scully shouldered her backpack. 
"I'm coming with you." 

Jameson shook his head. "I need as many people to 
remain searching here as possible. It might be 
nothing and we can't afford to waste time having 
everyone haring off." 

"Well, then take me and leave the other man here in 
my place. If it is Mulder then I want to be there. 
I want to see him for myself." 

Jameson pondered her proposal for a moment and then 
rolled his eyes and sighed. "Henderson will have my 
guts for garters for taking you with me." 

Scully offered up a shrug and a small smile. 
Jameson sighed again, and radioed his intentions to 
Henderson. Scully tried not to smile as the Flight 
Lieutenant's voice crackled loudly through the 
radio. Jameson somehow managed to placate her and 
he led Scully deeper into the wood. 

Jamesons's radio crackled into life again as they 
neared the area identified by Henderson as 
containing the heat source. Her voice, sounding 
eerily disembodied through the radio, directed them 
straight to the spot. 

There was a small thicket of shrubs and brambles 
and Scully shone her flashlight into its depths. 
Two rheumy old eyes blinked back at her. It was 
Shifty. 

"What the hell are you doing out here, Shifty?" 
Exasperation and disappointment made her words 
sound harsher than she had intended, and Shifty 
flinched at her austerity. 

She reached out a hand to help him up. "I'm sorry. 
It's just. We're looking for Mulder, he's missing, 
and I thought, I hoped..." 

Shifty brushed some stray twigs from his tattered 
tweed jacket. "I know he's missing. I heard some of 
the locals talking about it. That's why I came 
straight here." 

"Why? What's so special about here?" 

"This is their area, the fairies. It's where they 
live, where they go about their business. I thought 
if I stayed here long enough I might see them." 

Scully felt suddenly exhausted. It had been an 
incredibly long day, and the last thing she wanted 
was another pointless discussion about fairies with 
Shifty. 

She took his arm and led him towards Jameson, who 
was relaying the latest events to Henderson. "You 
can't sit out here on a night like this, Shifty. We 
have to get you home." 

The old man shuffled between them as they slowly 
made their way northwards a little further, towards 
his home. "I knew it was futile to come out here 
tonight, but I couldn't just sit at home and do 
nothing." 

Scully was loath to humor him, but she was curious 
about what had led him to sit in the middle of a 
thicket in the dark. "Why is it futile, Shifty? And 
what were you hoping would happen?" 

"I was hoping I might catch a glimpse of one of the 
fairies. I've seen them before you know, dearie. 
They don't come out very often, but with tomorrow 
being such an important day, I thought there might 
be more activity than usual. I thought that one of 
them might get careless. Here we are, then." 

They had reached the tiny cottage and Scully's last 
remaining hope that Mulder was completely safe was 
shattered when they entered the cold, damp living 
room. No one was inside. Jameson busied himself 
building a fire and Scully settled Shifty into his 
favorite chair, covering his frail body with a 
thick woollen blanket. 

"Why is tomorrow so important, Shifty?" she asked 
as she tucked the edges around him. 

"You know why. Tomorrow is Halloween. The night 
when the Fairy Queen makes her final sacrifice. You 
won't find Fox until tomorrow night. I'm only 
worried that we'll be too late." 

Scully soothed the old man's brow, brushing the few 
stray locks from his face. "I don't understand what 
you're saying, Shifty. What does this have to do 
with Mulder's disappearance?" 

Shifty closed his eyes for a long minute, and at 
first Scully thought he had fallen asleep. Just as 
she was about to signal to Jameson that they should 
get back to the others, Shifty spoke. 

"The Fairy Queen has captured Fox. Hamish must have 
escaped or killed himself and she was without a 
sacrifice for Halloween. Now she has Fox." 

He yawned, his mouth wide and gummy. Scully glanced 
briefly at Jameson, who swirled his finger in a 
circle next to his head, as if to say the old man 
was crazy. 

"It'll be up to you to rescue him, dearie. You'll 
have to undertake the trial as Janet did. If you 
don't, then I'm afraid the next time you see Fox he 
will be like all the others were." 

Scully was about to question him further, but his 
eyes slipped shut and he began snoring softly 
through his open mouth. 

She turned to Jameson. "What did you make of all 
that?" 

Jameson shrugged. "I think he's just a crazy, 
lonely old man. We have to get back to the others 
and continue the search. There's still a lot of 
ground to cover and no time to waste." 

Reluctantly, Scully left Shifty to his slumbers and 
headed back to the search party with Jameson. The 
snow began to fall more heavily and Shifty's words 
played over and over in her head as she stumbled 
through the semi-darkness. She had no idea what 
Shifty was talking ahout when he mentioned a trial. 
She couldn't recall hearing that part of the 
ballad; she must have either been asleep or 
talking. 

None of this was helping to find Mulder, though. 
Shifty had been a distraction and Scully could feel 
the hours and minutes slipping away as they walked. 
She only hoped that Mulder had found some kind of 
shelter. She didn't want to ponder his chances of 
surviving a night in the open in this weather. 

End chapter eight

Tam Lin
by Pequod (pe.quod@virgin.net_

Chapter Nine

As they returned to the clearing, the snow began to 
fall more heavily and soon the beam from Scully's 
flashlight barely picked out Jameson's shape ahead 
of her as they stumbled along the path. It wasn't 
until she bumped heavily into the back of him that 
she realized he had stopped walking.  

They both pitched forward slightly and she grabbed 
onto his arm to prevent him from tumbling to the 
ground.

"Shhh..." he whispered.

"What is it?" she asked as Jameson switched off his 
flashlight and then did the same to hers, plunging 
them into total darkness.  Scully's heart was 
pounding so hard she could hear every beat as it 
split the silence.   

"I thought I heard something."  Jameson pressed his 
mouth so close to her ear his breath tickled the 
delicate hairs and Scully felt an insane desire to 
laugh.  Oh, yeah, she thought, laughing now would 
be good.  What could be more appropriate?  Here she 
was in the middle of the woods, at night, in a 
snowstorm, blind as the proverbial bat, crouching 
on the ground listening for who knows what.  Yes, 
it was a very good time to start laughing.  She 
knew it was only the tension that was making her 
feel this way.  Every nerve in her body was alert 
and strained; her brain was so full of conflicting 
emotions it was starting to hurt when she tried to 
think logically.  But that only made her feel angry 
with herself.  Now was not the time to start losing 
it, she needed to be strong and clear-headed.  
Mulder needed her to be strong.

She mentally forced all the negative thoughts down, 
hiding them away in the area of her brain reserved 
especially for these occasions.  The swirling 
emotions were more difficult to quiet but with a 
little effort they too were locked away and the key 
thrown into the nearest bush.  

She shut her eyes and concentrated on her 
surroundings.  She heard it, then, a noise that 
sounded remarkably like a groan.  It came again, 
this time more loudly and she was able to fix its 
location just off to the left of them.  

She tugged on Jameson's sleeve to get his 
attention.  "What do you think, Jameson?  Does it 
sound human to you?"

She could make out Jameson's nod now that her eyes 
were adjusted to the gloom.  "Let's check it out."

They switched their flashlights back on and 
carefully made their way towards the source of the 
groaning.  The noise was quite loud now and more 
easily identifiable as human.  Scully's heart was 
in her throat as they approached.  Please God, let 
it be Mulder.  It had to be.  Who else would be out 
here in the dark?  He sounded in a great deal of 
pain but at least that meant he was still alive.

A few seconds later and Jameson's flashlight picked 
out the shape of a man sprawled on his stomach at 
the bottom of a small gully.

"Mulder!"  Scully cried out his name as she 
scrambled down the slippery slope of the ravine.  
When she reached the bottom the light illuminated 
the body more clearly and her heart sank.  Mulder 
had been wearing jeans and a Gortex jacket when he 
left that afternoon.  This man was wearing a dark 
green flying suit. It was one of the RAF crew from 
their search party.  She gently pushed the hair 
back from his face and forced a smile while her 
insides twisted into a painful coil.  

...

It turned out that the crewman had tripped over a 
broken tree branch and tumbled into the gully.  
Scully had examined his injuries briefly, and apart 
from what looked like a broken leg and wrist he was 
none the worse for his adventure.

Now, as she sat on a rock on the hillside waiting 
for the helicopter to pick the man up, her 
shoulders drooped and her body felt tired and limp.  
The disappointment she had felt when she realized 
that the body was not Mulder's turned to 
frustration and anger.  Anger at the poor RAF guy 
for not being Mulder, anger at Mulder for still 
being missing after all these hours, anger at 
herself for her weakness.  Tears pricked her eyes 
and she blinked them away.

She felt so helpless and she hated the feeling.  

Looking at her watch she realized that it was 
nearly ten o'clock, nine hours since she'd last 
seen Mulder.  She couldn't pretend to herself that 
things were all right because they clearly were 
not.  She was fearful, now.  Fearful that they were 
searching for a corpse.  

The worst thing about being a doctor was that no 
one could soothe your fears with words of 
reassurance.  She knew from her own experience that 
the words of doctors carried great weight with 
relatives, they believed everything a doctor told 
them. At medical school it had always surprised her 
and moved her when she saw such trust in the eyes 
of a mother or father.   She held their hands and 
told them that the doctors were doing the best they 
could, and that she was sure everything would be 
fine, even as she knew their son or daughter was 
being pumped full of adrenaline in a desperate bid 
to bring them back from death.  

But who reassured the doctor?  She knew what the 
chances of surviving a night exposed to the 
elements were, even for a fit, healthy person.  An 
injured person who couldn't move around and 
generate body heat was in even greater danger.  

She could hear the helicopter before its beam 
appeared over the side of the hill and she ran 
across as the winchman was lowered down.  She 
helped Jameson fasten the stretcher to the winch 
and watched as it was hauled up into the body of 
the Sea King.

The winchman dropped back down and Jameson motioned 
for her to get aboard.  "Come on, Dana," he 
shouted.

"What's going on?  What about the search?"  She had 
to shout so loud, the noise of the helicopter was 
deafening.

"Henderson's called off the search for tonight.  
We'll resume again at daybreak."

Scully was aghast. "You can't call off the search 
now.  We need to find Mulder as soon as possible.  
He won't..." survive, she thought, but couldn't 
bring herself to say the word.

Jameson gently maneuvered her towards the winch.  
"It's too dangerous, Dana. We've already had one 
casualty; we can't risk anyone else getting hurt.  
Besides, the helicopter shouldn't be flying in 
these conditions.  Henderson's pushing it to the 
limit as it is."

Scully had no choice but to allow herself to be 
attached to the winch and taken up into the 
helicopter.  She was seething with anger.  Surely 
Henderson didn't have to pull everybody off the 
search?  She would have to talk to her when they 
got back to Carter Hall.

...

Henderson was waiting with the rest of her crew 
when the helicopter landed on the playing field.  
Scully marched up to her.  She was aware that her 
anger and frustration were bubbling dangerously 
close to the surface but she didn't care.

"What the hell are you doing, Henderson?  You can't 
call everybody off now, we've hardly even begun 
searching."

Henderson's face set like a mask.  "Dr. Scully.  I 
realize that you are tired and worried about your 
partner, so I will forgive your rudeness..."

"Please don't patronize me.  It's imperative that 
we find Mulder tonight.  Prolonged exposure to 
severe cold will result in hypothermia, and 
frostbite.  Mulder has been out there for nearly 
ten hours now.  His core body temperature may be 
dangerously low.  I strongly recommend that we 
return to the woods and resume the search."

"I'm not going to argue with you about it, Dr. 
Scully.  I will not risk my men and my helicopter 
in weather like this.  It is standard procedure for 
a search to be called off in such conditions.  I'm 
assuming you don't want to be responsible for 
anyone else getting hurt tonight?  The hard fact is 
that there is nothing more to be done until the 
morning.  You have to accept that."

"I..."

"We'll be back at daybreak.  I suggest you get some 
sleep so that you will be fresh in the morning.  
Fatigue makes people careless, and I have no room 
for people who are a danger to themselves and my 
men on my team.  You got it?"

Scully could only nod; she didn't trust herself to 
speak.  Deep down she knew Henderson was right, but 
there was no way she was going to acknowledge that 
fact.

Henderson started to walk back to the Sea King, and 
then stopped and turned towards Scully.

"Oh, and Dana, I haven't lost one yet this year, 
and I don't intend to start now."  Her mouth 
twisted into what could possibly have been a small 
smile and then she clambered aboard the helicopter 
and was gone into the night.

Scully stared after her for a long time, not moving 
until she felt Monty's arm around her shoulders.  
She allowed him to lead her into the house.

...

Scully woke to the sound of a cock crowing.  Her 
back ached, her neck felt stiff, and the left side 
of her face was cold and numb.  She opened her eyes 
and found herself staring down the kitchen table.  
No wonder her face was numb, she must have fallen 
asleep at the table while the others were talking.

Gingerly, she sat up, rubbing her cheek in an 
attempt to get the blood flowing back to the spot.  
A quick look around told her that she was alone, 
but she could hear the soft whisper of voices close 
by.  There was no mirror in the kitchen in which to 
check her appearance, so she smoothed the wrinkles 
out of her combat trousers and flattened her hair 
down as best she could with her hands as she had 
done only two mornings ago.  Mulder had laughed at 
her bed-head then, standing at the back door 
looking handsome and devilish, or was that 
devilishly handsome?  Either description would have 
applied.  

God, Mulder.  Scully glanced at her watch, it was 
seven o'clock but still fairly dark outside.  
Eighteen hours now since Mulder was last seen.  
Twenty hours since he pulled her seductively down 
the bed and they had made love for the third time.  
Christ, they hadn't even been in this country three 
whole days yet.  How can so much happen in such a 
short space of time?  And how unspeakably cruel was 
it that she and Mulder had finally crossed the last 
barrier, only to lose each other, perhaps forever?  

No, she wouldn't think like that, she couldn't 
allow such thoughts to cloud her heart and her 
mind.  She gave herself a mental shake, took a deep 
breath and walked out of the kitchen towards the 
sound of the voices.

Monty was holding counsel in the drawing room with 
DS Bill Mackenzie and a couple of men Scully 
recognized as volunteers from the search last 
night. Large red circles decorated the map they 
were gathered around.  Monty looked up as she 
approached, his kindly face grave and drawn.  
Scully could see large, black circles around his 
eyes and none of the men looked as though they had 
slept at all last night.

"Dana, my dear.  Come on in, come on in. We're just 
plotting our offensive for the day."

"I'm sorry, Monty.  I didn't mean to fall asleep.  
How long have I been out?"

"Only a couple of hours, dear.  You dropped off 
just as Jimmy here was telling us for the third 
time how he climbed the Inaccessible Pinnacle twice 
in one day, and how his rope nearly snapped on the 
second climb and he thought he would plunge to his 
certain death."

Scully managed a small smile, which quickly faded 
when she saw the concerned look that passed between 
Mackenzie and Monty.

"What?  What is it?"

It was Monty who finally spoke.  "Dana, Bill here 
thinks that we ought to consider other 
possibilities regarding Mulder's disappearance."

"What other possibilities?"  Even as she spoke the 
words, Scully knew the answer.  It was something 
she had been putting off thinking about because the 
ramifications were too horrible to contemplate if 
it were true.

Bill coughed to clear this throat.  "So far 
Mulder's disappearance has been treated like a 
search and rescue operation.  It has been assumed 
that he is lost or injured in the woods or out on 
the hills.  The search has been conducted 
accordingly.  However, given the circumstances at 
the moment, circumstances which in fact you were 
here to look into, it is entirely possible that 
another fate has befallen Mulder. Now, this is only 
a possibility, because quite frankly it doesn't 
follow the pattern..."

Monty interrupted.  "What Bill is trying to say, 
and may actually get around to saying before 
nightfall, is that whomever kidnapped and murdered 
the four boys may have taken Mulder."

"That is correct," Bill continued.  "Now, as I was 
saying, it doesn't follow the pattern of the other 
kidnappings because they all happened a year ago, 
but obviously, the murders of those kidnapped men 
were very recent, with poor Hamish being found by 
your good selves only two days ago. Now, obviously, 
the murderer is still around, or was up until two 
days ago, so it is a possibility that he has 
kidnapped Mulder, although as I said, it doesn't 
follow the pattern..."

Scully was finding it difficult to concentrate on 
Bill's ramblings.  It didn't matter that she was 
hardly listening, though.  She knew where all this 
was leading.  If the kidnapper had some kind of 
plan for his last victim, and that plan had been 
thwarted by Hamish's suicide, then he would need a 
replacement, and quickly.  Whatever he had planned 
for the final victim would happen tonight.  But if 
this was indeed what had happened to Mulder, then 
Scully didn't like the chances of finding him.  The 
British police had not been able to find the other 
victims, and they'd had a year in which to look.  
This time, they only had one day.  

Scully realized that Monty was speaking.

"...and we'll have plenty of people out searching.  
Simon had to rush back to Glasgow yesterday for an 
emergency, but he'll be back later and he's 
bringing some friends with him.  If Mulder's out 
there, we'll find him, Dana."

Scully smiled, although inside she felt like 
crying.  It was an impossible situation.  Mulder 
was either injured and hypothermic by now, or he 
was being held against his will and a potential 
murder victim.  Whichever scenario was the correct 
one, time was of the essence.

"Let's get going, then.  Which area of the map have 
you assigned to me?"

Monty folded the map up and tucked it into his back 
pocket.  "Henderson's got all the details.  She's 
out on the playing field now, scaring the crap out 
of the volunteers."

Monty and Bill guffawed as they walked out of the 
room.  "But can you imagine what she's like in 
bed?"  Bill lowered his voice and spoke gruffly. 
"Put it here, now.  No, not like that, like that.  
Now, when I say so, you can start to move."  Bill 
laughed hard at his own joke.  

Monty cast an apologetic look at Scully, who 
suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for Henderson.  
Why did all men assume that because a woman was 
strong and capable and forthright in her 
profession, she was bossy in bed?  She might well 
be, but it wasn't a given.  

People talked about her in the same way, Scully 
knew.  She had seen the looks Mulder got from other 
men often enough.  She would be putting forth her 
side of the argument, or giving someone an order, 
and the men would look at each other knowingly.  
She'd heard the words 'bossy bitch' whispered non-
too subtly on many occasions.  Mulder would get 
sympathetic glances, as though they felt sorry for 
him for having to put up with her, and God help the 
poor guy if he was screwing her as well, he must be 
some kind of masochist.  Scully had heard all this 
and more.  Whatever politicians said, there was 
still no equality in the workplace.  Things might 
be more equal in terms of opportunity, and even 
pay, but not in the minds of a lot of people.

At least Mulder was not like that.  He had always 
treated her with respect, arguing with her as he 
would with anyone, never one to pull his punches 
because she was a woman.  Even on that very first 
day in the basement, his disdain had been for what 
he thought she stood for, not for who she was.  

Scully prided herself on her independence, on her 
ability to make her own way through life, relying 
on nothing and nobody.  She was her own woman, and 
always had been.  But she couldn't imagine her life 
without Mulder in it.  Not now, not after 
everything they had been through, all that they 
meant to each other.  Making love hadn't changed 
that, nor even strengthened it.  They didn't need 
sex to affirm their commitment to each other.  It 
was a wonderful direction for their relationship to 
turn in, but it didn't alter the way things already 
were, and would be even if they never had sex 
again.

Mulder wasn't always very expressive emotionally; 
sometimes she put up with a lot without getting 
thanks or acknowledgment.  But there had been 
occasions when he was more demonstrative than she; 
times when he had told her what she was to him, 
that she was his one in five billion, how she made 
him a whole person.  She never said anything like 
that to him; expressing her deepest emotions didn't 
come easily to her.  

She could see why Mulder thought she made him a 
whole person.  They complemented each other well; 
she prevented him from slipping completely into 
fantasyland, and he helped keep her mind open.  
Together they could see the whole picture, and not 
just subjective parts.  

She would never meet anyone else quite like Mulder.  
And she didn't think that anyone would be able to 
get so deep inside her, as he had.  As the song 
said, he was under her skin, deep in the heart of 
her, never to be erased.

He wasn't her life, and yet he was.  She liked to 
think that she could manage perfectly well without 
him, that if for whatever reason, it was all over 
tomorrow and they went their separate ways, she 
would have a good life, enjoy a fruitful career.  
She was more than capable of that.  The fact was 
she didn't want to.  She liked things as they were, 
enjoyed her life and everything in it.  There were 
things she would change, of course, Melissa and 
Emily for a start, and it would be nice to have the 
choice as to whether to have a family or not.  But 
on the whole, her life was good, and it was good 
with Mulder in it.  She didn't want that to change.

She didn't want to lose him; didn't want to face 
the prospect of life without him.

She headed out to the playing field with renewed 
determination, and she even managed a smile when 
Henderson glowered at her and ordered her around 
like she was a fifth grade pupil on a field trip.

...

By mid-afternoon she was exhausted.  Together, the 
search and rescue teams had covered the range of 
hills in closest proximity to the woods, and 
Henderson had ordered the helicopter to cover a 
wider circle.  The search of the woods had been 
meticulous and thorough.  No stone had literally 
been left unturned, and yet there was no sign of 
Mulder, no sign that he had ever even been in the 
woods.

Scully was back at Carter Hall with Monty and some 
of the other searchers.  They were having a short 
break before heading out to a different search 
area.  

Scully sipped her coffee as some more volunteers 
trooped through to the kitchen.

A loud voice broke through the rabble.  "Dana!  
There you are.  How are you holding up, my dear?"

It was Simon.  Scully made to get up as he 
approached but he waved her to sit back down.

"Don't get up, Dana, you look absolutely jiggered."

Scully smiled.  "I've had better days, Simon, it 
has to be said.  It was nothing too serious in 
Glasgow, I hope?"

Simon sighed as he took a seat next to Scully.  "A 
nasty business I'm afraid, Dana; a six year old 
girl with Leukemia, Sarah Miles.  We've been 
waiting for a bone marrow donor for some time now, 
but with no luck.  Still, she's in a better place 
now.  At least, that's what I tell myself.  It's 
not much comfort to her mum and dad, though."

"No, it's not.  Nothing can prepare you for the 
loss of your child."  Her voice cracked and Simon 
looked at her with concern. 

"Dana, I... I'm sorry. Have you? I didn't know, I'm 
sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"It's okay.  Why would you know? It's fine, 
honestly."

"Mulder never mentioned a child.  Did it happen 
very recently?"

"Nearly a year ago, and Mulder wouldn't mention it.  
It's not something I talk about very often.  I had 
a daughter, Emily.  She was only with me for a 
short time, but that time was precious, and 
something I will always be grateful for."

"That's a good way to look at it.  Is it not better 
to have known her and loved her, if only for a 
short time, than never to have known her at all?"

Hearing Simon unknowingly echo Mulder's own words 
at Emily's bedside made something snap inside 
Scully, and a sob escaped her, followed closely by 
another one.  She swallowed them back down. Now was 
not the time, now was not the time, she repeated to 
herself.

Simon put his arm around her and pulled her in to 
his chest.  Hot tears welled and burned rivulets 
down her cheeks.  Try as she might, she couldn't 
stop them, and soon Simon's jacket was shiny and 
wet with tears.

After a minute or so she pulled away.  "I'm sorry.  
I'm just tired, and worried about Mulder, and..."

"You don't have to justify yourself to me, Dana.  
Tears are allowed, you know.  Even Monty has been 
known to shed the odd one or two while watching 
'It's a Wonderful Life'.  He always claims that he 
has something in his eye, of course, but we know."

Scully laughed and snuffled the rest of the tears 
away.  "I can't imagine Monty crying at old films 
somehow."

"Well, don't tell him I told you this, but he cries 
at 'The Sound of Music' every single time.  And 
he's banned from watching 'The Elephant Man' 
because we can never hear the film over his damn 
sniffles."

Scully laughed again and Simon patted her back.  "I 
know it's trite to say this, Dana, but I'm sure 
Mulder will be all right.  I just have a feeling.  
He's tougher than he looks, isn't he?  Quite a few 
chaps found that out at University, believe me.  He 
was never one to shy away from a fight if it was to 
defend his honor, or that of someone else. Always 
the gentleman was old Mulder."

"I wish I could be so confident, Simon.  It's just 
been so long, and if he has been kidnapped, then 
time is fast running out, I'm afraid.  When we find 
him, he'll be dead."

Shifty appeared then, in the doorway.  "That's what 
you should be worrying about, dearie.  You can get 
Fox back if you want, but you have to be willing to 
believe."

"Shifty, I don't think Dana needs to hear your wild 
theories right now."

The old man continued regardless.  "Fox knew.  He 
believed, and if you want to save him, so must 
you."

Scully rubbed her aching temples.  She wished 
briefly that Shifty would disappear.  He was 
starting to irritate her with all this nonsense.  
"How can I believe you, Shifty?  It's just 
ridiculous.  There are no such things as fairies.  
Tam Lin is just a ballad, a folktale, invented to 
entertain people on cold, dark nights when there's 
nothing to do except drink and scare each other.  I 
can't possibly believe it.  I'm sorry."

"You're not as sorry as Fox will be tonight.  I'll 
be out there, waiting, and if you've got any sense 
you will be too."

"Shifty, the police are going to set up a 
surveillance operation tonight, in order to try and 
catch the kidnapper.  If there's anyone at all out 
there, they will find him.  I'll be helping them 
out."

The old man spat in a gesture of disgust.  "Pah!  
The police couldn't organize a piss-up in a 
brewery.  They won't be in the right place.  I will 
be, though.  I'll be where I was last night when 
you found me."

Shifty walked across to the back door and opened 
it.  "Fox believed.  Why can't you?  You're his 
only hope, Dana."  The door slammed shut behind 
him.

Scully looked at Simon and shrugged.  Shifty seemed 
so serious. He clearly believed what he was saying, 
and Mulder and Monty were happy to go along with 
him.  So why wasn't she?  Because it just so 
plainly wasn't true.  How could it be?  But then, 
what if she was Mulder's only hope, and she ignored 
him?  What then?  Damn!  It was like giving up 
chocolate for Lent.  She always managed fine until 
someone mentioned it, or waved it in front of her 
face, and then she couldn't get it out of her mind.  
Shifty's comments were going to niggle at her, she 
could tell.

"What's the plan now, Dana?  Back out for another 
go?"

"The search has been widened now, and we all have 
new areas to cover.  The police are setting up a 
surveillance operation, as I said, and if nothing 
has been found by tonight, then the operation kicks 
in and we'll take it from there."

"Once more unto the breach, dear friends, as they 
say."

"I thought that was just a myth, that the English 
quoted Shakespeare all the time."

Simon laughed.  "Well, despite my accent, I'm not 
English, I'm a Scot, and don't you forget it."  He 
grinned broadly.  "Would ye rather I quoted Rabbie 
Burns at ye, wee lassie?

'Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie, 
O, what a panic's in thy breastie! 
Thou need na start awa sae hasty, 
Wi' bickering brattle! 
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, 
Wi' murd'ring prattle!'"

Scully laughed again.  "Um, funnily enough, I 
actually studied that poem in high school.  It's a 
classic, you know."

"Well who would have thought young Rabbie's mouse 
would have made it all the way to America?  You 
surprise me."

"I can also quote 'my love is like a red, red 
rose', and everyone knows 'Auld Lang Syne', don't 
they?"

"You're quite right, of course.  I'll tell you what 
we'll do to get us through the rest of the 
afternoon.  I'll quote you lines from obscure 
British poems, and you can astound me with your 
vast and insuperable intelligence.  How does that 
sound?"

Simon held the door open for her, and Scully 
stepped out into the afternoon chill.  "It sounds 
pretty good to me, Simon.  Let's go."

...

By the time the Police had everyone in place, and 
the surveillance operation was underway, Scully's 
nerves were so frayed she felt sure she was going 
to snap.  Indeed, two RAF men had already borne the 
brunt of her frustrations when they got in her way 
earlier on, not to mention the poor Capercaillie 
which had dared to challenge her intrusion into its 
nest.  

As she sat in the darkness, she couldn't get 
Shifty's words out of her head.  She was Mulder's 
only hope.  What if he died and it was her fault?  
She had begged him to let her save him in the past, 
which fortunately hadn't been necessary.  Could she 
let him down now, when he needed her most?  But if 
she went to Shifty, and something happened here, 
then she would be too far away to do anything about 
it.

She peered at her watch, trying to read the dial in 
the dark.  It was nine thirty.  Maybe she could go 
and check on Shifty and be back in time for 
anything that went down here?  

She told Mackenzie where she was going, and taking 
her flashlight and a radio, she set off to find 
Shifty's hiding place in the woods.  Thankfully, he 
wasn't too far away, and it wasn't long before she 
located him tucked away in the same copse he was in 
the previous night.

He smiled at her gummily.  "I knew you'd come, 
dearie.  You'd better settle in, there's a lot you 
need to know and very little time left."

Shifty unfolded another blanket and Scully squeezed 
through the bushes and sat down on it.  She 
couldn't quite believe she was doing this.  Still, 
it wouldn't hurt to hear him out, now would it?

Shifty whispered into her ear.  "You'd better 
switch the torch off, dearie.  We don't want them 
to see us before we're ready."

Scully turned off the flashlight and they sat in 
the dark.  This would be creepy if it weren't so 
ridiculous, she thought.  She wanted to laugh and 
cry, but she did neither. She sat quietly, 
listening to the night noises and waiting for 
Shifty to tell her his plan.

End chapter nine


Tam Lin
By Pequod (pe.quod@virgin.net)

Chapter Ten

The night was as black as pitch.  No moonlight or 
starlight penetrated the thick canopy of trees.  
Somewhere close by an owl hooted, making Scully 
jump.  She pulled her jacket more tightly around 
her.  The middle of autumn in Scotland was not the 
best of times to be sitting in a thicket in the 
middle of a wood.  The bush next to her rustled and 
a small, indistinct animal rushed past to Scully's 
right as she sat cross-legged on the blanket.

Shifty was as still as a statue next to her.  He 
hadn't spoken a word since Scully had sat down.  
She was desperate to ask him some questions, but 
she sensed that this was his show, and he would run 
it the way he wanted.  She waited as patiently as 
she could.

She could recall another night spent huddled in the 
woods.  That time there was no crazy old man 
sitting next to her, just crazy old Mulder.  It 
sounded perverse to say it, but even though they 
were lost in the woods and in fear of their lives, 
that night had been one of the best nights of her 
partnership with Mulder.  They had been through a 
myriad different nights together, some ordinary, 
some exciting, some downright boring, but that 
night had been special.  

It was not long after her cancer had gone into 
remission, and she had been full of a renewed sense 
of hope.  Sitting in that forest in Florida, Mulder 
cradled in her lap, she had felt close to God, to 
nature.  She had felt truly alive for the first 
time in a long time.  She'd only been half-joking 
when she'd made the crack about the sleeping bags.  
If Mulder had shown the slightest bit of interest 
that night things might have been very different.

Then again, she couldn't be sure to what extent her 
simple relief at being alive had clouded her 
judgment.

In the first couple of months after her cancer had 
gone, she had felt an intense need to connect, with 
friends, family, Mulder.  She had slowly woven the 
web of her life back together again, throwing out 
strands, hoping they would catch in the familiar 
places.  

If she were honest with herself, sex with Mulder at 
that time would have been another way of connecting 
her to life, another silken thread affirming her 
existence.  It would have been a comfort fuck, in a 
way, never to be repeated.

She was glad they had waited.  The threads of her 
life were stronger now, and she felt that there was 
a future to be forged, if they wanted to.  If it 
wasn't already too late.

"Dana?"

The sound of Shifty's voice was unexpected and for 
a moment Scully didn't know where she was.

"What is it?" she whispered.

"You have to believe, if you are to save him.  Do 
you believe, Dana?"

"Believe in what?  I don't know what you think is 
going to happen.  I don't know what you want me to 
do."

"You heard the ballad, back in the pub.  You know 
what you have to do."

Scully was beginning to get cramp in her right leg, 
so she stretched it out, flexing her toes to stop 
the pins and needles.

"Shifty, I, um, I didn't hear the end of the 
ballad.  Bill Mackenzie arrived and then, I, well, 
I fell asleep, I think."

Shifty sighed, and then Scully felt his hand on her 
knee.  She resisted the urge to pull her leg away.

"When the Fairy Queen captured Fox, she would have 
put him under a spell.  When you see him, he might 
look the same but inside he will already have begun 
the change."

"What change?" Scully asked.

"The change from a mortal into an elf.  His 
sacrifice at midnight will complete the process.  
If you don't undergo the trial, the Fox you know 
will be dead."

Scully shivered as much from Shifty's words as from 
the cold.

"I think it's time you told me all about the trial.  
If I have to do something to save him, then I want 
to be prepared."

There was the sound of a zipper opening, and for 
one long second Scully wondered just how much she 
was going to regret sitting alone in the dark with 
this strange old man.  She wished she had her gun 
with her.  The only weapon she had was her 
flashlight.  She tightened her grip on its handle.

There then followed a hissing noise like air 
escaping a vacuum.  Scully's heart started to beat 
faster.  What was Shifty up to?

His hand groped for hers in the darkness, and when 
he found it he turned it palm upwards.  Scully felt 
something warm against her skin; she recognized it 
for what it was and closed her fingers around it.

"That'll warm you up, dearie."

"Thanks, Shifty."  Scully raised the plastic cup to 
her lips and drank the hot tea.

"Now drink that and relax for a bit.  There's only 
a couple of hours left, and much that you need to 
know."

Scully pursed her lips and blew across the surface 
of the tea.  Steam dissipated into the cold air.

"Tell me about Janet, Shifty."

Scully heard the scrape of a match and then in the 
resulting yellow light she watched as Shifty lit 
his pipe.  His eyes were closed and his face was 
drawn and tense as he gummily sucked on the tip.  
It took three matches before the pipe was properly 
lit and Shifty exhaled a long plume of smoke.  The 
smell was comforting somehow to Scully, reminding 
her of her father's late-night poker games with his 
navy buddies.  The air in the dining room would be 
thick with smoke.  Occasionally, she would sneak 
downstairs and her father would let her sit on his 
knee and shuffle the pack with her clumsy, childish 
hands. It was never long before her mother came in 
and hauled her off to bed, silently admonishing her 
father with a steely glare.  Daddy would bow his 
head and look suitably chagrined, but he would 
smile and wink at her when her mother's back was 
turned.

"As you know," Shifty began, "Janet meets up with 
Tam Lin for the second time at the well.  She wants 
to confront him about the pregnancy.  He tells her 
that the Fairy Queen has transformed him into an 
elf, and he will be sacrificed at midnight on 
Halloween as part of the tithe the fairies must pay 
to stay in the land."

Scully remembered this part of the tale from the 
pub.  She was impatient for Shifty to get to the 
point about the trial.  Time was marching on, and 
the time left to find Mulder safe and well 
diminishing with each second that ticked away.  She 
drummed her fingers on her jeans and tried to be 
patient.

"Tam Lin tells Janet that if she will undergo a 
trial, then he will be changed into a mortal again 
and free of the Fairy Queen's spell.  The trial is 
not an easy one, and Janet will need all her 
strength to get through it and rescue Tam Lin.  But 
above all, above everything else she must endure, 
she must believe, and she must love Tam Lin 
unconditionally, otherwise it will all be for 
naught.  Only someone who loves Tam Lin can save 
him."

Scully could guess where this was leading, and why 
Shifty thought she was the only one who could save 
Mulder.  At least it made a change from the 
handsome Prince rescuing the hapless maiden.  The 
ballad of Tam Lin was fairly modern in outlook for 
an old folktale.

"But what does she actually have to do, Shifty?  
What does she have to go through?"

"The Queen and the rest of the fairies travel on 
horseback through the woods towards the place of 
sacrifice.  Tam Lin is at the rear on a white 
horse.  Janet must drag him from his horse and hold 
on to him while the Fairy Queen transforms him into 
various beasts, then plunge him into a well when he 
turns into fire.  When he is his own self again, 
she must cover him with her green cloak and he will 
be free."

Apart from the obvious problems with this scenario, 
notably its implausibility, Scully could also see a 
couple of practical problems, and she voiced these 
to Shifty.

"Shifty, I'm wearing a blue Gortex jacket, not a 
green cloak, and I don't think there's a well in 
the vicinity, not one that I've noticed anyway."

"I thought about that," the old man said proudly.

There followed the sound of the zipper again and 
then Shifty's voice in the darkness.

"Shine your torch here briefly and you'll see."

Scully flicked the flashlight on, making sure she 
pointed it at the ground to absorb some of the 
light.  Even so, the brightness made her eyes hurt 
after so long in the dark.

She examined the items Shifty was holding.  He had 
a tattered green woolen blanket and a large bottle 
of Highland Spring mineral water.  

Scully felt like crying.  The hopelessness of the 
situation hit her full force.

Shifty actually thought that Mulder was going to 
appear in the woods on a horse and she was going to 
save him with nothing more than an old blanket, a 
bottle of water and her love.  Fat tears slid hotly 
down her cheeks and she let them fall and stain the 
pale wool of the blanket.

Shifty reached across and took one of her hands in 
his, stroking her cold skin with his callused 
thumb.

"I know what you think of me, Dana.  I know you 
think I'm a silly old man, and that I'm crazy for 
believing what I do."

Scully felt the heat rise to her cheeks at his 
words.  Shifty was right.  She did think he was 
crazy and it embarrassed her to hear Shifty voice 
her opinions of him.

"I, I don't..." she stammered.

"It's all right.  I don't blame you in the 
slightest."  Shifty gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"I know that what I am asking you to believe sounds 
like the ramblings of a crazy man.  I can't change 
the facts of the matter to be more palatable to 
you.  I can't offer you any proof.  I only ask you 
to have faith in me.  Or if not in me, then in 
Mulder.  He was willing to believe.  Ask yourself 
what he would be doing now if the roles were 
reversed."

Scully didn't have to think too hard about that 
one.  Mulder would be willing to give anything a 
try, the more abstract and fantastical the better.  
She had been willing to trust him before.  When she 
was dying of cancer, when there was no hope left 
she had trusted him to replace the chip in her 
neck.  She would perhaps never know whether the 
chip had saved her, but she was walking around with 
a piece of metal in her neck even now because 
Mulder believed that it would.

On the very first day they met, Mulder had talked 
about turning to the fantastic when science and 
conventional thinking have failed to provide 
answers.  She had not believed him then, but a lot 
had happened in six years and if there was one 
thing she did have, it was the strength of Mulder's 
beliefs.

Maybe she should harness some of that strength now.  
It couldn't hurt.  She should check on the progress 
of Mackenzie and the rest of the team, though, and 
let them know that she would be staying with Shifty 
for a while.

She switched the radio on and soon ascertained that 
all was quiet in Bill's area of the woods.  The 
surveillance team had nothing to report, but they 
were happy that all potentialities were covered.  
Mackenzie promised to alert her the second anything 
happened and Scully left the radio on but the 
volume low.

A brief glance at her watch told her it was 10:45.  
Just over an hour to go until midnight.

Shifty was rummaging in his bag again.  This time 
he produced a very small oil lamp and lit the wick.  
The light emitted was minimal, but less intrusive 
than her flashlight.  Scully switched it off and 
appraised Shifty in the faint yellow light.

His thin face looked tired and worn-out, but his 
eyes were bright as he watched her watch him.  
Scully wanted to squirm in his gaze but she forced 
her body to stay still.  She couldn't bear to sit 
here in silence; the quiet allowed for too much 
contemplation.  Conversation was needed, she 
decided.

"So, Shifty.  Why exactly do you believe that Tam 
Lin is a true tale, rather than a folktale?  You 
said last night that you'd seen the fairies.  I'd 
love to hear more about that."

The old man smiled and re-lit his pipe.

"I've known about the fairies and Tam Lin all my 
life.  Like I think I already told you, my father 
and Sir Montague's grandfather found four murdered 
boys a hundred years ago, and the tales of previous 
murders have been passed from generation to 
generation.  Sir Montague does have an ancestor 
called Janet on whom the legend is based.  She did 
get pregnant before she was married, and although 
in the ballad it is implied that Janet and Tam Lin 
live happily ever after, in reality they didn't and 
she brought the baby up with the help of her 
family.  Sir Montague is a direct descendant."

"Okay, so I can understand that the ballad of Tam 
Lin is based on a true story.  I can understand 
that Janet became pregnant and was abandoned by the 
father.  But for the sake of argument, Shifty, 
don't you think that maybe she made up the tale of 
Tam Lin in order to cover up the fact that she had 
slept with someone, maybe a boy her family would 
know?  Maybe she was scared that they would think 
badly of her so she made up a fantastic tale that 
would somehow justify her behavior.  Or, if Janet 
was forced into having sex against her will, then 
she could have invented the story as a way of 
coping with having been raped."

Scully was quite pleased with the latter 
explanation.  The more she thought about it, the 
more plausible it seemed.  She had read many case 
studies of women who convinced themselves that 
their rapes had not happened, or that their babies 
were conceived in more pleasant circumstances.  For 
some women, it was the only way they could cope 
with carrying a child that was a result of rape; it 
was the only way they could feel any kind of love 
for the child.

Some women had also reported imagining other 
scenarios while they were being raped.  Some 
imagined it was a lover making love to them.  
Scully thought it quite conceivable that a girl of 
Janet's age and innocence would use her imagination 
to cope with being raped, and would convince 
herself of the truth of her invention.

"That's a reasonable conclusion to make," Shifty 
retorted, "but there are other things that may make 
you think differently.  Janet wasn't the only girl 
to see Tam Lin, nor was she the only one who ended 
up with child.  As the ballad says, he was a wee 
rascal, and he took the innocence of quite a few 
girls around here.  And then, of course, is the 
fact that I know the fairies exist because I've 
seen them."

There was such pride in Shifty's voice as he told 
her that Scully hadn't the heart to argue with him, 
so she let him tell his tale without interruption.

"I think it must be a gift," Shifty told her.  
"Only a few people have ever seen them.  My father 
was one, and his father.  I was brought up with the 
tale of Tam Lin, and others that are similar, like 
Thomas Rhymer.  My mammy would read them to me on 
cold, dark nights and I would lie awake for hours 
afterwards, watching for the fairies. On my tenth 
birthday my da came into my room and told me to get 
dressed because he had something to show me.  He 
brought me into the woods and we waited in this 
exact spot.  Nothing happened that night, but he 
kept bringing me back until one night I saw them.

"I thought they'd be wee tiny things, no bigger 
than my own child's hand, but they were quite tall.  
Not as tall as an adult, but at least as tall as I 
was then.  They were all dressed in green, except 
for one fairy at the front of the group who was 
dressed in red.  My da told me she was the leader, 
the Queen of the Fairies and very special.  I was 
lucky to see her that night.  

"They didn't look at us or speak, and I remember 
asking my da why they ignored us.  I thought they'd 
be scared.  He said it was because they didn't 
really exist in our time, they were in another 
dimension and couldn't see us, but if we were to 
speak and to reach out towards them, a door would 
open between the worlds and they would know.

"Next time we went out I wanted to speak to them.  
I wanted so badly to talk to them and touch them 
but my da said that bad things could happen if I 
did that.  The Fairy Queen doesn't like people 
interfering and she turns people into elves if they 
cross her."

Scully had a feeling that Shifty had wanted so 
badly to believe that he had convinced himself that 
he had seen the fairies.  She often wondered that 
about Mulder and Samantha.  Scully didn't doubt 
that Mulder's sister had been abducted, and that he 
witnessed at least part of what happened, but 
sometimes she felt that believing that aliens had 
taken Samantha was easier than accepting that she 
had been kidnapped and probably murdered by someone 
all too human.

It was this blurring of fantasy and reality that 
was evident in Janet's tale in Tam Lin, and in 
Shifty's tale of his childhood encounters with 
fairies.

There was something else niggling at Scully, which 
she hoped Shifty would answer for her.

"Why does the Fairy Queen kidnap and murder these 
men, Shifty?  If she wants a sacrifice in revenge 
for Tam Lin then surely she's already achieved 
that.  Why does she keep coming back for more men 
to kill?"

Shifty sucked on his pipe, his brow furrowed in 
concentration.

"I've thought a lot about this, Dana.  I don't know 
for sure why she wants the men, and I don't know 
why it's only every hundred years.  I can only 
speculate, if you want to hear that?"

"Of course," Scully replied as she glanced again at 
her watch.  Half an hour until midnight.  Her 
stomach flipped and the hairs on her arm stood up.  
The anticipation and uncertainty were starting to 
get to her.  Her body began to shiver and she 
couldn't seem to stop the tremors.

"Here, wear this, it'll warm you up and you'll have 
it handy for later."  Shifty draped the woolen 
blanket around Scully's shoulders and she pulled it 
tight.  She drank some more tea, warming her hands 
around the plastic cup.  After a minute or two the 
shivers subsided and she started to warm up a 
little.

"My theory is that the Queen wants a worthy 
adversary.  I think she can only be free of Tam Lin 
and all that his loss represents if someone fights 
her for him and the Queen wins.  She was beaten by 
Janet and she has been spoiling for a fight ever 
since.  No one has ever challenged her before, so 
each of the men has died and the Queen is still not 
free.  That's why you must make sure that you win 
the battle tonight, Dana.  Everything will be lost 
if you don't, including Mulder."

"I'm still not exactly sure what you want me to do, 
Shifty.  Tell me what to do."

Scully didn't feel like going to battle.  She felt 
defeated and resigned.  The closer the deadline of 
midnight was, the tenser she became.  She felt like 
a guitar string wound to its limit.  One turn of 
the screw too much and she would snap.

It was her resignation that made her go along with 
Shifty's plan, and listen to his instructions 
carefully.  When a person has nothing left to lose, 
they have everything to gain.

...

Midnight approached, and in the final few minutes 
silence descended between Scully and Shifty.  Even 
the woods were quiet, the only sound their fluttery 
uneven breathing.  

Scully went over Shifty's instructions in her head.  
When the fairies appeared she must let three groups 
go by and when she sees Mulder she must pull him 
from his white horse, and hold on to him while he 
changes into a lion, a serpent, a water snake and 
then fire.  If she makes it as far as the fire 
stage, then in the absence of a convenient well she 
must dowse Mulder with the Highland Spring.  Then 
she had to cover his naked body with her green 
blanket and all would be well.  This plan would be 
perfect, she thought, if the fairies actually 
appeared.  Scully wouldn't be holding her breath 
for that eventuality, though.

A small laugh escaped her. She couldn't help it.  
Adrenaline was making her feel giddy, as though 
she'd drunk one too many lattes.

Shifty shushed her and silence reigned once again.

With a minute to go, Shifty turned off the oil lamp 
and they were once again plunged into darkness.

Scully's heartbeat was out of control now, its 
rhythm wild and untamed.  She strained to 
distinguish shapes in the dark, and nearly gasped 
when a pinprick of light came into view, seemingly 
suspended in air as it bobbed across her line of 
sight like a will-o'-the-wisp.  The light was so 
dim she could only make out shapes and not 
features, but the light was definitely attached to 
something fairly large, and after a black gap there 
was another light, and then another.  

The procession, if that's what it was, was some way 
in the distance, out of the clearing and behind 
another row of trees.  Scully peered into the 
darkness trying to turn the shapes into something 
she could recognize, human beings, animals or maybe 
even children.  Not fairies, she thought; 
definitely not fairies.  They couldn't be.  Come to 
think of it, Scully wondered if she would recognize 
them as fairies, even if they were.  From what 
Shifty had said, the fairies he had supposedly seen 
were more human in their appearance, not the 
delicate hovering creatures with paper-thin wings 
she remembered from childhood fairy tales.

Maybe it was swamp gas.  Except there was no swamp 
in the woods, and swamp gas didn't have a definite 
shape and make rustling noises as it brushed 
against the branches of trees.

Scully made to move a little closer to get a better 
view, but Shifty held her back.

"Not yet," he murmured.

The lights bobbed along from right to left and 
after the third light had come more clearly into 
her field of vision there was another gap and then 
a fourth.  This one was slightly larger than the 
rest and more discernible as a lantern.  The 
lantern swayed to its own beat, and as it drew 
closer, it cast an eerie glow on its surroundings.

Scully could do nothing but stare as the light 
illuminated the white head and flowing mane of a 
horse.  This could not be happening, she thought.  
She had been willing to go along with Shifty, but 
she had never really truly believed a word of what 
he had said until now.  She tried to see whether 
the horse had a rider or not.  The lantern didn't 
pick out the rest of the horse, just its head and 
the tops of its powerful front legs.  

Suddenly, Shifty's arm was on hers, dragging her to 
her feet.

"Now," he whispered and he must have flicked her 
flashlight on because all at once there was light 
where there had been darkness and there was a 
dazed-looking Mulder sitting atop the horse.

"Mulder!" she cried.  "Oh, my God, Mulder!"  She 
ran towards him, crashing through bushes, heedless 
of spiny branches that scratched her face, and 
whipped into her eyes.

"Dana, don't forget what you have to do," Shifty 
shouted after her.

Scully didn't take much notice, though.  All she 
could think about was that Mulder was here, he was 
alive and she had to reach him.

The horse reared up as she advanced and for an 
awful moment she thought it would throw Mulder and 
he would be trampled.  He was holding onto the 
reigns with one hand and grasping the lantern on a 
wooden pole with the other, but he was making no 
attempt to stay on the horse.  It was as though his 
mind was elsewhere.

She slowed her approach, talking nonsense to the 
horse in an effort to calm it with her voice.  Her 
tactics appeared to have the desired effect and she 
reached Mulder and tried to pull him from the 
horse.  The horse was large, Mulder was 
uncooperative, and she struggled.  She couldn't 
really see what Mulder was wearing, but he didn't 
seem to have any trousers or socks on. There was no 
clothing for her to grab a hold of and pull on.

"Mulder, help me, please.  It's me, Scully.  You 
have to help me.  I can't get you down on my own."

She could hear other horses now, their whinnying 
cutting through the air.  There were voices and the 
sounds of feet crunching on snow and dead branches.  

"Mulder, please."  She was frantic now as the 
voices came closer.  Shifty's voice rose above the 
rest urging her to hurry.  I'm trying, I'm trying, 
she screamed silently.

In desperation she wrapped her hands round Mulder's 
bare calf and pulled with all the strength she 
could muster.  She hoped fervently that if he fell 
off the horse he wouldn't bang his head on the 
ground.  Oh, God, that would be too awful to think 
about.  The horse began to shy away and Mulder 
slumped forward just enough for her to grab an arm 
as well as a leg and she pulled him from his perch 
as carefully as she could.  

She wasn't careful enough, however.  His weight was 
too great for her to bear and she crumpled under 
the strain.  They both hit the ground hard, Mulder 
on top of Scully and she felt sick as the wind was 
knocked out of her.  Her head snapped against the 
cold earth, the snow at least forming some kind of 
cushion, but not much, and the world faded to 
black.

When she came to, Mulder was still half on top of 
her and she had to gasp for every breath.  She 
managed to roll them both over and when she opened 
her eyes she was shocked at what she saw.

It was Mulder, and then it wasn't Mulder.  She 
watched in horror as he became each of the animals 
that Shifty had foretold.  It was like seeing the 
Seraphim again, only more frightening because this 
was Mulder and this could not be happening.  

The lion's face was terrifying, his mouth wide in 
an angry roar, his dark eyes wild.  Every nerve in 
Scully's body was telling her to run.  Her muscles 
were tensed, her mind alert.  She could jump up now 
and be away before the animal could react.  But it 
was no animal, she told herself.  It was Mulder, 
and somehow she was being tricked into thinking she 
was seeing something she wasn't.

She resolved to hold on to Mulder no matter what 
happened, but as the lion disappeared only to be 
replaced by a hissing serpent and then a water 
snake, it was hard to fight her body and her mind 
when all they wanted to do was flee.

Mulder was shaking violently beneath her and she 
closed her eyes as she straddled him, pinning his 
arms to the ground.  It was like riding a rodeo 
bull and it took everything she had to hold on.

She could hear the babble of voices much louder 
now.  They were all around her.  Hands reached out 
to touch her; she could feel small fingers closing 
around her wrists, trying to loosen her grasp on 
Mulder.  She kept her eyes tight shut.  If she 
didn't see it, it wasn't happening.  Holding on to 
Mulder was all that mattered.

And then Mulder was still, and everything went 
quiet.  She smelled smoke and when she opened her 
eyes it seemed as though fire was surrounding them, 
although she couldn't understand why as there was 
so much snow and everything was wet.

The flames leapt high into the air, eating the tree 
branches above them.  The night was filled with the 
crackle and hiss of burning wood.  She felt around 
for the water bottle but couldn't find it.  Fingers 
of fire curled into Mulder's hair, setting it 
alight and Scully frantically scooped up handfuls 
of snow and dampened his hair before the fire could 
do any serious damage.

There was no movement beneath her and she placed 
her finger on Mulder's neck, feeling for his pulse.  
There was nothing.

"Please don't die, Mulder," she begged him, her 
voice a mere whisper.  "I love you. Don't die."

She coughed and choked as acrid smoke filled her 
lungs and then darkness descended again.

End chapter ten

Tam Lin
By Pequod (pe.quod@virgin.net)

Chapter Eleven

"Welcome back, Dana."

Monty's kindly voice was the first thing Scully 
heard when she drifted back to consciousness.  She 
wondered what he was doing in this part of the 
woods.  He should have been with Bill Mackenzie, 
waiting for the kidnapper. Shifty must have brought 
him, she supposed.  There was no need for the 
others to keep the surveillance going now that 
Mulder had been found.

Then the image of Mulder's cold, naked body came 
into her mind and she remembered taking his pulse 
and finding nothing.  Oh, God.  Mulder?

"Mulder!"  She sat up quickly and groaned from the 
severe pain in her head.  She tried to open her 
eyes but just the merest glimpse of harsh white 
light brought fresh pain and she closed them again.  
She felt warm hands on her shoulders, gently 
persuading her to lie back down.  She acquiesced, 
purely because lying down seemed to ease the pain 
in her head.

"It's all right, Dana.  It's me, Monty.  Mulder's 
fine.  He's a bit shaken and a little sore but he's 
fine.  Simon is with him."

Scully felt sleep beckoning her again, but she 
didn't want to fall asleep again out here in the 
cold woods. She needed to get to a hospital. Mulder 
needed checking out by a Doctor.  She wasn't in any 
condition to examine him herself.

"Monty, we must get to the hospital.  Mulder, he 
might be hurt, he needs examining."

"You are in hospital, Dana, both of you.  You're in 
Inverness and you're both fine."

She felt his hand on her forehead, and strong 
fingers caressed her brow, brushing her hair away 
from her face.

"Dana?"  

A different voice this time, with an unfamiliar 
accent.
 
"I'm Doctor Begum.  I want you to open your eyes 
for me, Dana."

Scully groaned.  "It hurts to open my eyes."

"I'll dim the lights and then you can open them.  
You've been unconscious for quite a while.  I need 
to make sure everything is okay."

Scully heard the flick of the light switch and 
cautiously opened her eyes.  The doctor waited for 
her to become accustomed to the brightness and then 
turned the lights up again so he could examine her.

"You've suffered a concussion, Agent Scully, and I 
want you to stay here for a few hours so that we 
can keep an eye on you," he told her, "but if 
everything stays as it is now, I don't see any 
reason why you can't go home this afternoon."

Scully thanked the doctor and after he left, Monty 
moved forward and perched on the bed next to her.

"Where's Mulder, Monty?  I want to see him."

"He's just down the hall.  He had a concussion, 
like you did, but otherwise he's fine.  He looked a 
lot worse than he was.  I'm sure you'll be able to 
see him in a wee while."

"But, I checked his pulse.  I thought he was dead."  
Her voice broke into a sob on the last word and 
Monty put his arms around her and let her cry into 
his shirt.  The relief she felt was overwhelming, 
and after the tension of the last two days she gave 
into her emotions and let it all flood out.

Monty held her and rubbed her back until her tears 
dried up.  She felt safe and relaxed for the first 
time in what felt like forever.

Then suddenly she was full of questions.

"Is Shifty okay?  What about the woods?  Was there 
any sign of the, the..." The what? Fairies?  Scully 
realized she never had actually seen Mulder's 
abductors.  There had been lights, she could 
remember that much.  And she recalled hands 
touching her, pulling at her clothes, but her eyes 
had been shut so that she wouldn't be scared of 
what was happening to Mulder and abandon him.

She had no idea about who was responsible for what 
had happened.

"When we found you there was no indication that 
anyone else had been there.  Shifty was raving on 
about the fairies and horses and something about 
the woods being on fire, but there was no 
scorching, no sign of fire at all, just you and 
Mulder lying together under a wet blanket."

"That, that's just not possible.  There must have 
been some clue.  Mulder didn't just turn up by 
accident.  I...I saw, things."  But what? What had 
she actually seen?  Mulder turning into a lion and 
a snake?  She felt sure that she had witnessed 
that, but how could she have?  There were just so 
many questions and no straightforward answers.  
Scully could see the irony in that-- wasn't that 
the story of her life?

"Does Mulder remember anything?" she asked Monty.

"Not really.  He's very confused at the moment and 
still a bit groggy.  He said he can remember you 
sitting on top of him at one point, but he thought 
he was having one of his usual dreams."

Scully laughed.  "Trust Mulder to think that."

Simon entered her room at that point.  He came 
across and took her hand, placing a kiss on her 
palm.

"How are you feeling, Dana?  It's good to see you 
back with us."

"I'm fine, thank you, Simon.  How's Mulder?"

"He's doing great. Doctor Begum says you can both 
leave together later on today, but we'll have to 
keep an eye on you for a while and make sure you 
don't black out again."

"Well, that's easily solved," boomed Monty, "you 
can both stay over at the house tonight.  There's a 
bit of a Ceilidh happening down at the pub later 
on, and if you're up to it, we'd love to see you 
both down there."

"That does sound wonderful, Monty.  I'll definitely 
be there if my headache has cleared by then."  The 
painkillers given to her by the doctor were already 
having an effect, and Scully was starting to feel 
more human again.  All she wanted now was to see 
Mulder.

Doctor Begum popped his head round the door to 
check that everything was all right.

"Is there any chance I can see Mulder?  I really 
want to talk to him."  And make sure he really is 
back, she thought.  Until she had seen him with her 
own eyes she wouldn't truly believe that he was one 
hundred percent okay.

"Okay, you can see him for a short while, but I 
don't want either of you getting excited.  I want 
only peace and serenity for you two; otherwise 
you'll be spending the night in here.  Am I clear?"

Scully nodded. "Quite clear, Doctor."

She swung her legs over the bed and climbed out.  

She was wearing one of those awful gaping hospital 
gowns, and she felt around the back to make sure it 
was tied tightly.  She didn't want to put on a show 
for Monty and Simon, as nice as they were.

The clothes she had been wearing yesterday were in 
an overnight bag on a chair near the bed.  There 
was a fresher looking pile of clothes next to them 
and Scully looked at Monty questioningly.

"I pulled some things from your drawers at the 
cottage, my dear.  I hope that's all right.  I 
didn't think you'd want to come home dressed in 
those things."  He gestured towards the overnight 
bag.  "They're pretty filthy."

"Of course I don't mind."  Scully shuffled across 
and unfolded a clean pair of jeans.  Monty pulled 
the curtain around her bed to allow her to dress in 
privacy.

"How long do you think it will be exactly before I 
can leave, Monty?"  Scully winced as she bent down 
to pull the jeans up her legs.  Her back and 
shoulders hurt like hell.  She must have had some 
battle with Mulder trying to get him off that 
damned horse.  Two vivid purple bruises decorated 
her upper thigh, and Scully was sure there must be 
one or two more on her body.  She'd have to 
thoroughly check herself over when she could 
finally have a bath and clean herself up.

"They'll want to get rid of you as soon as poss, my 
dear.  There's a shortage of beds, don't you know, 
and as soon as you're well enough to shout at a 
nurse they kick you out.  It's not their fault, of 
course, just too many sick people and too little 
money.  Are you decent yet?"

"In a minute."  Scully pulled her sweater on and 
the swept the curtain back.  She grinned at Monty.  
"I'm ready now."

Monty wrapped her arm around his and escorted her 
out of her room.  "Then I shall take you to see 
poor Mulder, and then Simon and I must be off.  
We've got a Ceilidh to prepare for.  My wine cellar 
always gets a battering when it's party time.  I'll 
send someone to pick you up later."

Simon opened the door to Mulder's room.  "Mulder, 
old chap, there's someone here wants to see you."  
He ushered her into the room and then closed the 
door softly behind her. 

Scully was alone at last with Mulder.

He was sitting up in the bed, his arm hooked up to 
an IV.

He smiled, his eyes shining with warmth.  "Hey, 
you."

Scully resisted the urge to run across the room and 
throw herself in his arms.  

"Hey, yourself."  She moved so that she was sitting 
on the bed, and took his hand, her fingers playing 
over his warm skin.

"How are you feeling?  You look much better than 
you did last night."

"Never mind about that.  Come here."  Mulder held 
his arms out and Scully let him envelop her.  "I 
missed you," he whispered into her hair, and hugged 
her even more tightly.

Scully pressed her palms against his back, 
delighting in the solid feel of his body beneath 
her fingers.  She could hear the steady thrumming 
of his heart, feel its pulse beneath her hands.  

He had been dead last night, she was sure of it.  
There had been silence where now there was his 
heartbeat and the sound of his gentle breathing.  
There had been stillness where now there was rhythm 
and movement.  The last time she had seen him, he 
had been a dead weight, now his body responded to 
her touch, and when they kissed, she couldn't 
remember ever having felt so alive.

"I missed you, too," she said when they stopped 
kissing.  "I thought you were dead.  What happened, 
Mulder?  Where were you all that time?"

"At lot of it is a blur, to be honest, Scully.  I 
can remember some things and not others.  I have no 
idea how I got here, for instance.  The first thing 
I knew was when I woke up to find the doctor poking 
me all over."

Scully kicked her shoes off and pulled the edge of 
the blanket up.  She gestured Mulder to move across 
the bed.

"Make room for a little one, Mulder.  I want to be 
comfortable for this conversation."

Mulder grinned broadly and scooted across the small 
bed.

"Ooh, Scully, are you sure?  What if the nurses 
come in and catch us?  I don't think they take too 
kindly to people messing up their sheets."

Scully wriggled until she was comfortable, which 
was no mean feat in so small a bed.  Mulder's body 
was tight against hers, and his arm snaked around 
her shoulder and held her to him.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but we're not going to be 
messing up these sheets."  She placed her emphasis 
on the word 'these' and Mulder caught the hint.

"Do you know, Scully, I'm feeling better already.  
What time will be getting out of here?"

"Soon, Mulder, soon.  Have some patience.  Now I 
want to know what happened.  How did you end up 
naked on a horse in the middle of the woods?"

Mulder's brow creased as though remembering the 
details was difficult for him.

"I don't really know what happened, Scully.  One 
minute I was walking along the path, heading 
towards the clearing, and the next I was hugging 
the ground.  I was pretty close to Mackenzie and 
the others because I could hear them talking, but 
that's all I remember until I woke up to darkness."

"There must have been some kind of trip wire across 
the path.  Whoever kidnapped you must have set a 
trap.  I wonder why they took you and not any of 
the others who were already there?"  Scully had 
been wondering about that for some time.  Why had 
Mulder been the target and not any of the dozens of 
other people who had been out on the hill that day?

"I guess it must have been a trap, though I don't 
know why I was chosen.  Maybe I was just in the 
wrong place at the wrong time, or maybe I was the 
only one alone.  Who knows?"

"So when you woke up you were completely in the 
dark?"  

"Yes.  I didn't know how long I had been 
unconscious, or whether it was day or night.  The 
air had a damp, earthy smell.  I could taste it.  
The ground I was sitting on and the wall behind me 
felt moist and slimy.  My hands were tied behind my 
back, but I was able to feel around me and although 
the ground seemed solid, parts of it flaked away 
when I scraped it with my fingernails.

"I decided that I was in some kind of cave or 
pothole in the ground, but there was no light at 
all so it must have been pretty deep within the 
earth."

Scully tried to imagine waking up to complete 
darkness, with no idea where she was or who had put 
her there.  Mulder must have been pretty confused 
and scared.

"Did you see anyone at all?"

"To be honest, I think I must have been drugged or 
something, because walking along the path, to 
waking up here in the hospital seems to have taken 
no time at all, and yet Simon told me that I was 
gone for nearly two days.  It didn't seem like that 
long, but like I said, it's all very confused and 
hazy in my mind."

Scully laid her head on Mulder's chest.  "I thought 
I'd lost you for good this time.  The police were 
convinced you'd been kidnapped by a murderer.  
Shifty was convinced that the Fairy Queen was 
responsible.  Either way it looked pretty bad.  
I...I was sure we would only find your body."

The memory of searching for Mulder in the middle of 
the first cold night made her shiver.  Every bush 
was potentially hiding his body; every indistinct 
shape could have been him.  There had been a few 
occasions when she had been frightened to direct 
the flashlight onto a shape, certain it would be 
the one, that this time it would be his lifeless 
body.

Mulder stroked her hair, curling strands of it 
around his fingers.  It felt heavenly and Scully 
sighed with pleasure and more than a little relief, 
that he was here to do a simple thing like run his 
fingers through her hair.

"What did you believe, Scully?  Did you believe the 
police, or Shifty?"

"I don't know.  Most of the time you were gone I 
believed you were the victim of a serial murderer.  
And in the cold light of day that still seems the 
most plausible explanation."

"But you wondered, didn't you?" Mulder whispered 
into her hair.

Scully wondered how to put into words what she had 
felt, what she had seen?  It seemed ridiculous now.

"In the middle of the night, sitting in the woods 
with Shifty, yes, I guess I was willing to believe 
it could be fairies.  When I saw the lights moving 
through the woods and you on a horse just as Shifty 
had predicted, well, then I believed.  And, 
I...there were other things..."

"What things?"

Scully sighed deeply.  "I don't know, Mulder.  I 
thought I saw you change into other things, into 
animals, but now I can't be sure.  I was really 
wired, it was dark, and I'd already blacked out 
once.  Maybe I was just dreaming it all."

Mulder yawned.  "I don't think we'll ever know for 
sure, Scully."

No, Scully thought, but she wished there were more 
resolution to the story.  Their entire trip to 
Scotland felt like a dream that she would surely 
wake up from soon.  Maybe Shifty would be able to 
throw some more light on what had happened earlier.

She pulled the blanket up under Mulder's chin and 
climbed out of the bed.  She placed a soft kiss on 
his lips.  Mulder's eyes were already slipping 
closed.

"You're safe now, that's all that matters.  Get 
some rest and I'll be back later."

Mulder smiled sleepily and waved a half-hearted 
goodbye.

As she left Mulder's room she noticed a dirty green 
blanket on the floor.  It must have slipped off the 
end of the bed.  She picked it up and examined it.  
It was the blanket Shifty had given her earlier 
that night.  It was still slightly damp, and 
blackened in some parts with soil.  It smelled, 
too, like soot.  Scully brought the blanket to her 
nose and inhaled.  The blanket smelled of smoke; 
there was no mistaking the scent.

She turned to mention it to Mulder, but he was 
already asleep.

Curiouser and curiouser, she thought, as she tucked 
the blanket under her arm and tiptoed out of the 
room.

...

It was mid-afternoon by the time they left the 
hospital, Doctor Begum having insisted they remain 
under observation for at least twelve hours.  
Scully had slept for a good deal of the time, her 
lack of sleep over the last two days finally 
catching up with her.  In fact, now that she 
thought about it, the night before Mulder 
disappeared hadn't involved much sleeping either.  
She grinned at the memory, and at the prospect of a 
repeat performance, or two.  She hadn't really 
given much thought to what would happen now that 
they had crossed this line in their relationship.  
Events had moved too quickly and in other 
directions since that night and she hadn't had time 
for contemplation.

Mulder nudged her with his foot.  He was strapped 
into the seat opposite her in the helicopter.  
Monty had sent his private helicopter and pilot 
this time and it was a more pleasant experience 
than being entombed in the Sea King Has 5 had been.

"What are you grinning at?" Mulder asked.

"Nothing.  I was just.  Nothing.  I'm just glad 
you're here, that we're both alive to see another 
day, that's all."

Mulder smirked.  "I see.  For a minute there I 
thought you were thinking of other things.  I know 
I am."

Scully groaned.  "Is this the kind of innuendo I'm 
going to have to put with from now on, Mulder?"

"Scully, you've always had to put up with innuendo 
from me, nothing's changed there."

She couldn't deny the truth of that statement, 
Scully thought.  Nothing seemed to have changed, 
except that now her fantasies about Mulder were in 
glorious 3D Technicolor, instead of plain old black 
and white.

The journey from Inverness to Carter Hall was brief 
and they were soon being welcomed into Monty's home 
by Maria, the maid.

"Sir Montague and Simon are down at the pub, "she 
informed them, "but Shifty is in the drawing room. 
He wants to see ye, Miss Scully, if ye're up to 
it."

"Of course," Scully replied, "I have a few things I 
want to talk to him about as well."

Scully followed Mulder into the drawing room, where 
Shifty was sitting in a wing-backed chair so huge 
it almost swallowed up his meager frame.  He beamed 
as they approached.

"Fox, Dana!  It's so good to see you both safe and 
well. Pull up a chair, pull up a chair."

Mulder and Scully sank into two chairs almost as 
large as the one devouring Shifty.  Scully thought 
she could easily live in a chair like this one.  
All she needed was a roaring fire, a good book and 
a bottle of wine and she'd never have to move 
again.

"Well?  Did you see them?  What did you think?"  
Shifty's eyes were bright; his voice pitched high 
with excitement.

Scully didn't want to have to disappoint him, but 
she couldn't lie and pretend she had seen something 
she had not.

"We didn't see anything, Shifty.  At least, Mulder 
didn't, and I, well, I only saw fragments, and I 
can't be sure about what was real and what I 
imagined or dreamt."  

Shifty's brow furrowed.  "But you must have seen 
the Fairy Queen.  She was right there.  She touched 
you; I saw it.  I thought she was going to kill 
you."

Scully recalled the terrifying moment she had felt 
hands touching her, trying to pull her off Mulder.  
And Shifty was telling her that they were the Fairy 
Queen's hands she had felt?

"I'm sorry, Shifty.  I think I felt something, but 
my eyes were closed.  I didn't see her."

Shifty had a far away look in his eyes as he 
remembered. "She was so beautiful," he sighed.

"What did she look like, Shifty?" Mulder asked 
eagerly.

"She was small but she exuded immense power.  She 
was just as I saw her all those years ago with my 
father.  She had something I can only describe as 
an aura surrounding her.  Like light, like all the 
colors of the rainbow.

"It glowed so fiercely when she was fighting with 
you, Dana.  Then when you put the fire out with 
snow, the aura faded, and so did she until there 
was nothing but deathly quiet and darkness."

"You saw the fire?  Monty said there was no sign of 
any fire."  If Shifty saw the fire, Scully 
reasoned, then there must be a trace of it out 
there somewhere.

"I saw it, Dana.  Mulder was alight and you put out 
the flames with snow. I ran over to you and you 
were both so still, lying together with the blanket 
covering you."

The blanket!  Scully realized it was in the 
overnight bag along with her other clothes. Maria 
had taken them from her before ushering her into 
the drawing room.  They were most likely already in 
the laundry.  Damn it!  She had wanted to show it 
to Shifty and ask him what he thought about the 
smoky smell of the blanket.  If there had been a 
fire, as Shifty insisted, then the smoke could 
easily be explained.  If, on the other hand, Monty 
was right, then she didn't know what had happened 
to the blanket for it to be in such a state.

Shify was still speaking, she realized.

"And I've been back out to the site myself, and 
Monty is right, there is no trace of the fire.  But 
I know it happened.  I saw it."

"Then how can you explain it?"  Mulder was 
fascinated by this tale, Scully could tell.  His 
eyes were shining as brightly as Shifty's.

"Well, obviously, when Dana touched you and the 
world of the fairies and our world came together, 
we must have been in their world rather than 
ours..."

"So if there is any fire damage, it will be in 
their version of the forest."  Mulder finished 
Shifty's train of thought for him.

"Exactly," said Shifty, triumphantly.  "We'll never 
find any trace of what happened out in Carterhaugh 
Woods, because nothing took place in our woods, 
only in theirs."

Scully felt as though she should put a stop to this 
fantasizing before Mulder and Shifty got carried 
away and the whole of the last few days got blamed 
on UFOs and visiting aliens.

"You know," whispered Mulder, as he leaned in 
closer to Shifty, "there is a theory that fairy 
tales, particularly tales of abduction by fairies, 
like in Tam Lin, were simply a way for our 
ancestors to explain what we now know to be alien 
abductions.  I..."

Mulder didn't get to finish his sentence because 
Scully placed her hand on his shoulder and 
whispered to him.  "Maria said that Monty has 
prepared the Queen Victoria suite for us, Mulder.  
I don't know about you, but I'm about ready for a 
nap before the Ceilidh tonight.  Do you want to 
show me which room it is?"

Mulder looked at her, and for a split second Scully 
could see him weighing the potential conversation 
with Shifty against the promise that lay hidden 
behind her words.  It pleased her more than she 
would ever admit to anyone that it was only a very 
brief battle Mulder fought, and that she was the 
undoubted victor as he rose from his chair.

"We'll talk about this later, Shifty."

Shifty tapped the old tobacco out of his pipe and 
replaced it with fresh from a battered silver tin.

"Aye, laddie.  No doubt we will."

Mulder led the way as they ascended the sweeping 
staircase in search of their suite of rooms.  
Scully watched as he strode purposefully down the 
long hallway.  Her heart fluttered with excitement, 
and the sheer joy of having him back.  Mulder 
paused outside a large oak door and turned to her 
smiling.

"This is the room, Scully."

She returned his smile and took his hand, squeezing 
it gently as she opened the door and led him 
inside.

End chapter eleven


Tam Lin
By Pequod (pe.quod@virgin.net)

Chapter Twelve

Scully stretched and yawned as she blinked awake 
from a brief nap.  Mulder breathed steadily beside 
her.  She was still so tired, even after a long 
sleep in the hospital and a nap this afternoon.  
They both were exhausted, and soon they had to face 
the Ceilidh at the pub.  Scully would rather stay 
snuggled under the bed clothes, warm and safe and 
protected.  But Monty had gone to a lot of trouble, 
and it would be unfair not to show up, particularly 
after all he had done for them since their arrival.

She and Mulder were heading back to DC tomorrow, 
and she wasn't looking forward to the long flight.

Mulder sighed in his sleep and rolled over.  She 
studied his face, so relaxed in sleep.  She thanked 
God again for his safe return.  Whatever may or may 
not have happened out in Carterhaugh woods, Scully 
was sure of one thing; if Shifty hadn't convinced 
her to keep watch with him, Mulder would be dead 
right now.

It was a horrible thought, and Scully's flesh came 
up in goosebumps.  But it was true, and Mulder knew 
it too.  That was why they had made love earlier, 
even though they were tired and hardly had the 
energy; because they could, when they so nearly 
might never have again.

When they had first climbed into the huge bed, she 
had lain cocooned in his arms for a long time, 
enjoying the silence, and the smell and feel of 
him, clean and soft from the shower.  Physical 
closeness was not a new thing to them; there had 
been countless occasions in the past when they had 
comforted each other, as friends do.  What was 
different this time, though, was the knowledge that 
she could kiss the bare skin of his arm as it held 
her, if she wanted to.  So she had, and Mulder had 
sighed, and that had led to her placing another 
kiss on the back of his hand.  Then she had felt 
the warmth of his breath on her ear as he kissed 
the side of her cheek.  She'd sighed, then, and 
twisted around in his arms until she was facing 
him.

His eyes had grown huge and dark again, and she 
kissed his lips gently.  His grip on her tightened; 
she could feel his fingers splayed across her bare 
back.  It had taken no effort at all to swing her 
leg over his and reach down to guide him inside 
her.

They had made love slowly, concentrating purely on 
touching each other's bodies; hands and mouths 
explored warm, lush flesh.  Their actions had been 
an affirmation that they were alive and together 
and able to do this whenever they wanted in the 
future.

One of his hands had played with her hair; the 
other had been between her legs, stroking her 
clitoris as he began to push more urgently inside 
her.  She'd been close, so close.  "Don't stop," 
she'd begged him, and he'd increased the pressure 
slightly and that was all it took for the warm 
vibrations of orgasm to spread through her body.

They had fallen asleep almost right away 
afterwards, hardly even bothering to clean 
themselves up; they could take showers again later.

Now, as the evening sun bathed the room in its warm 
glow, Scully decided a shower would be just the 
thing to wake her up and get her in the mood for 
the Ceilidh.  She padded into the bathroom, and 
stood for a long time under the spray, enjoying the 
feel of the droplets as they played over her skin.  
She was careful not to get her hair wet; there was 
no way she had the energy to style it again.  A 
good brush through and some hairspray would have to 
suffice tonight.

When she emerged from the shower a while later, 
Mulder was up and clad in a white terrycloth 
bathrobe.

"Maria stopped by while you were in the shower.  
Monty's sent us these."  He indicated the bed.

Scully stared at the garments laid out on the 
coverlet.

"No way, Mulder. There's no way I'm wearing that."

Mulder had a huge grin on his face and she knew the 
battle was lost before it had begun.

"Come on, Scully.  All the cool kids are wearing 
them."

"Mulder, you are not, nor have you ever been a 
'cool kid', and I'll just look ridiculous."

"I bet you don't.  I bet you'll look pretty hot."

"I'll only be hot because I'll be roasting to death 
in all this clothing."

"It's November in Scotland.  This kind of clothing 
was made to cope with a Scottish winter.  Besides, 
if I can wear one..."

Scully decided to make a deal.  "Okay.  If you go 
and get dressed up, and if you don't look too 
ridiculous, then I may, MAY, wear mine."

Mulder picked up his kilt and various accessories 
and trundled off to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later the bathroom door opened, and 
Mulder emerged.  "Prepare to be dazzled, Scully."

Scully looked Mulder up and down as he stood 
grinning in front of her.  She had no idea how he 
managed to look so good in that ridiculous outfit, 
but he did.

He had absolutely everything on; every accessory 
was neatly arranged, from the sporran to the dagger 
attached to his thick socks.  Scully wondered just 
how much protection the sporran would provide.  It 
hung neatly over the pelvic area, but didn't look 
as though it would stand up to a well-placed dagger 
or sword.  The green plaid kilt fit him perfectly, 
and just showed enough of his knees.  Mulder had 
knobby knees; Scully had never really noticed 
before.  The black jacket fit neatly at his slender 
waist and Scully had to admit that he looked pretty 
damned fine.

Why was it, she wondered, that men always looked 
better in skirts than women did?  Not always, 
perhaps, but often.  She'd seen many a man over the 
years with legs that she would kill for.  Once, 
when she was a medical student and doing a rotation 
in the local ER, she had met a prostitute called 
Carly who claimed to have been beaten up by a 
client.  The police had been surprisingly 
sympathetic, given Carly's occupation, and had 
assigned her a female detective to talk to and two 
female doctors to examine her.  She was a stunning 
girl, with a long face, high cheekbones and a lean, 
muscular body.  Scully had thought at the time how 
easily Carly could have been a model or an actress.

It had been a surprise, then, when they had coaxed 
Carly into getting undressed and discovered she was 
a man.  Carly was really Carl; and from what they 
had learned afterwards, she had never had any 
hormone treatment or surgery.  That was just the 
way she was built.  Scully had never taken anything 
at face value since that day.

Mulder wasn't quite that nice-looking, but he did 
look good in a skirt; there was no denying it.

"Well?  What do you think, Scully?  Do I pass?"

"Yes, you pass, Mulder.  You look 
very...authentic."

"Like a true Scotsman, eh?  I bet you didn't know I 
have Scottish blood in me, did you?"

"No, I didn't.  And just how true a Scotsman are 
you being tonight?"

She moved forward so that she was standing in front 
of him, invading his personal space.

"I don't know what you mean, Scully."  Mulder 
raised his eyebrows and tried to look innocent.

"You know exactly what I mean, Mulder.  Come on, 
show me."

"I'll show you, if you wear your dress."

Scully conceded defeat, and changed into the dress.  
It was similar to Mulder's kilt and jacket outfit, 
but all in one piece, with a tartan scarf that 
draped from shoulder to waist.  Thankfully, thick 
woolen socks and daggers were not de rigeur for the 
ladies, so Scully pulled on a pair of black 
stockings and some black chunky-heeled shoes.

When she was dressed, she looked at Mulder, 
expecting to see him grinning.  He wasn't.  He was 
smiling, but it was a warm appreciative smile, not 
a mocking one.

"You look fabulous, Scully."

"I do not.  I look like some kind of national doll.  
I feel stupid."

"I just bet you were one of those kids who always 
went to fancy dress parties in jeans and a t-shirt 
rather than a costume, weren't you?"

"So what if I was?"

"Well, you may have felt stupid dressing up in 
silly clothes, but you would have stood out more in 
your plain clothes, and people would notice you a 
lot more, which is the opposite of what you hope to 
achieve.  So if you go to the Ceilidh tonight 
dressed in your power suit, people are going to 
stare at you a whole lot more than they will with 
you dressed like that.  That's what I think, 
anyway," he grinned.  "Besides, I think you look 
sexy."

Scully laughed.  He had a point about standing out 
more if she didn't wear this dress. Ah, bugger it, 
as the Scots would say.

"Come on, then, Mulder.  It's time for you to keep 
your side of the bargain.  What's under the kilt?"

Mulder looked at his watch and sighed.  "I'll have 
to tell you later, Scully.  Right now, we're late 
for the party."

Mulder moved towards the door.  As he went to open 
it, he turned his back to Scully, and she took the 
opportunity to lift up the back of his kilt.

Scully giggled, she couldn't help it.  "You devil!"  

Mulder laughed.  "You know me, Scully.  I don't do 
things by halves."

She pulled the door closed quietly, and they set 
off towards the pub, Scully walking a few steps 
behind Mulder so that she could enjoy the view as 
he walked in his kilt.  She only hoped, for the 
sake of the locals and the innocent, that there 
wasn't a strong wind that night.

...

The plangent strains of a fiddle played on the 
evening air as they approached the Carterhaugh Inn.  
The sky was black already, and the three-quarter 
moon was huge and bright.  Mulder reached out and 
stopped Scully before she could enter the pub.

He took her hand and together they crossed the 
street.

"Look at that Scully," he said, and pointed at the 
moon.

"It's the moon, Mulder."

"Yes, but there's something about it tonight that 
you won't see often.  Can you see on the left, near 
the edge?  It looks as though part of the moon is 
projecting into space."

Scully studied the moon, and Mulder was right.  A 
small semi-circle of light appeared to be detached 
from the rest of the moon and hanging in the 
blackness.

"It's known as the Jeweled Handle.  It's really the 
sun catching the peaks which border the Bay of 
Rainbows.  That's the wall, if you like, of the 
Bay, which you can see projecting into the 
darkness.  It only lasts a few hours and so it's 
not often that you get to see it."

"It's very beautiful," Scully whispered.

Mulder turned to her.  "Yes, it is.  Scully, I just 
wanted to say, before we go inside, that I'm glad 
we came here, and I don't regret anything that's 
happened.  It's been a pretty horrible time for 
both of us, but there have also been some wonderful 
things as well, things that I never dared hope 
would happen.  And, well...I'm glad, that's all. I 
wouldn't change a thing."

Scully smiled.  "Except for the naked-on-a-horse 
thing."

Mulder put his arm around her and they entered the 
pub.  "Yes, except for that."

"And the lion and the snake and..."

"Shut up, Scully."

"Just remember that you've got nothing on under 
that kilt.  You're way more vulnerable than I am 
right now."

"Well, if something untoward happens to me, I won't 
be the only one losing out, now will I?"

"Mulder! Dana!"  Monty's voice pierced the babble 
of conversation in the pub and the sea of people 
parted as he made his way towards them.  "And don't 
you two look just splendid.  Dana, I don't think my 
old heart can take much more of you. You look 
delicious, as always."

Monty clapped Mulder on the back, and kissed both 
of Scully's cheeks theatrically.

"Speaking of appetizers, I bet you're both so 
hungry, your stomachs think your throats have been 
cut.  Come over here, there's plenty of food, and 
anything you want to drink.  It's all on me 
tonight."

Scully walked arm in arm with Monty across the pub 
floor to where Simon and Bill and a whole host of 
vaguely familiar faces were sitting.

"That's very generous of you, Monty," Scully said.

"Nonsense, dear girl.  I'll find a way to claim it 
back on expenses, don't you worry.  That's the 
advantage of having an accountant in the family.  
The only advantage, actually."

"You are awful, Monty."

"Yes, but you like me.  Bill! Simon!  Look who's 
here."

Bill and Simon shuffled up the leather bench and 
made room for Scully and Mulder to sit down. Scully 
recognized quite a few of the faces from the search 
for Mulder and she nodded at them when they nodded 
at her.  Julia was sitting a couple of people 
further up the table, the young blonde girl they 
had seen at the party draped on her arm.

She waved at Scully.  "Dana!  How lovely to see 
you, and Fox!  My, my, you do look handsome in that 
kilt.  Almost makes me wish I could turn the clock 
back twenty years."

Mulder leaned across the two men next to him and 
kissed Julia on the cheek.  

"I'm sure your friend would have something to say 
about that, Julia."

"Well, I did say 'almost'."

Mulder turned back to Scully.  He looked weary.  "I 
don't know about you, Scully, but I'm tired 
already."

"It has been a long day, and neither of us has 
slept much.  We'll just stay a while and then go 
and get some sleep in that fabulous bed."

A quartet of musicians was tuning up in the corner 
of the pub and Monty introduced them as the "Celtic 
Crosses".  Mulder groaned at the name, and Scully 
had to nudge him with her elbow.

The quartet consisted of two fiddlers, a woman with 
a flute and a guy with a trapezium-shaped banjo.  
Scully recognized it as an autoharp.  Sister Mary 
Catherine had played one in assembly at the school 
Scully had attended in San Diego.

A young red-headed girl stood up to join them, and 
sang in a high, clear voice.

Scully relaxed against the red leather back of the 
bench and listened.

"Oh the summer time is coming
And the trees are sweetly blooming
And the wild mountain thyme
Rolls around the purple heather
Will ye go, lassie, go?

"I would build my love a tower
By yon pure crystal fountain
And around it I would place
All the flowers of the mountain
Will ye go, lassie, go?

"And we'll all go together
To pull wild mountain thyme
All around the blooming heather
Will ye go, lassie, go?"

The girl's voice quivered and soared on the high 
notes and Scully found the song entrancing.  
Scotland was stunning in the fall, but she would 
dearly love to come back here in the summer, when 
the hills were purple with heather and the mountain 
peaks touched the blue heavens.

Mulder's hand snaked into hers, and she squeezed it 
gently.

Monty and Shifty brought a huge tray of whiskies 
over and set them on the table.  Monty handed a 
drink to everybody and stood at the head of the 
table.

"First of all, I'd like to extend a hearty welcome 
back to Mulder.  You had us worried there for a 
bit, old chap, although Bill here was ready to move 
in on young Dana if you didn't make it back."

Bill protested his innocence and everyone laughed.

"Seriously, though," Monty continued, "Everyone's 
glad that you're back, and we're mightily pleased 
you didn't end up like those other poor lads, God 
rest their souls."

There was a murmur of agreement from around the 
table.

"A toast is required, I think," Monty said, and 
raised his glass in the air.  "Guma fada beo thu is 
ceo as ur taigh, which roughly translates as 'long 
may you live and may there be smoke from your 
house'."

Laughter pealed again, and Scully realized that the 
rest of the pubgoers were watching them, and 
smiling.

"Have a safe trip home, you two, and good health.  
Slainte mhath!"

Scully raised her own glass to Monty's.  "Slainte!"

The 'Celtic Crosses' struck up a reel, and people 
got up to dance on the old wooden floor.

Mulder tipped his glass towards Scully's and they 
met in a satisfying clink.

"To life and love and friendship, Scully."

Mulder had his secret smile plastered on his face.  
She felt her own smile widen into a grin.  "To life 
and love and friendship."


The End


Author's notes

I have to say that this has been a wonderful 
experience for me.  If you can cope with the 
pressure, then I would recommend writing a WIP to 
everybody.

I have gotten to know some truly fabulous people 
and it's all because of this story.

I'm not going to write copious amounts here, but I 
would just like to thank the following people for 
their help during the writing of this story:

EbXphile and Sue Pyper for reading through various 
chapters and giving me very helpful comments and 
advice, all of which has been greatly appreciated.

Jean Robinson for early formatting advice and 
pointing out a few Briticisms.  But mostly for 
instigating the cult of the kilt, which, I think, 
has helped make people more interested in reading 
my story, and for which I am eternally grateful. 
Oh, yeah, and which has been a lot of fun as well 
*g*

Everybody who has sent feedback, encouragement and 
stalks over the last five months.  Some of you are 
far too kind, some of you are far too evil, but you 
have all been wonderful, and I have loved reading 
everything.

If anyone is interested in learning more about the 
ballad of Tam Lin, then Abigail runs a very 
informative web site.  You can find it here:

http://www.tam-lin.org


Finally, there aren't words to say how much Dasha 
has done for me over the many months I have been 
writing this.  Not only is she a wonderful beta 
reader, but also a fantastic friend.  I'm very 
grateful for all her help, for the page on her web 
site and for all the announcements she has made 
about the story so that people have been aware of 
its existence.

This one is for you, Dasha, with much love and 
gratitude from me.

Pequod, July 2000.


Feedback to pe.quod@virgin.net 

All parts of the story can be found at 
http://members.nerve.com/pequod/index.html