Chapter Text
Nelson jerked awake with a gasp. Just a dream. Just a... weird, unsettling dream. He's still in his room, still in his bed, still here. And, according to how dark the room is, still in the middle of the night. He can't really see the clock on the wall, but he can still tell it's way too early. He groans, dragging a shaky hand down his face. He wasn't getting back to sleep anytime soon, was he. Might as well drag himself out of bed and get something into his system.
Something kept him from turning the lights on as he went. The remnants of the dream, the shadows clinging to the corners of his home, the odd liminal feeling that came with being awake when everything was silent.
The light, seeping in from a cloudless night sky.
He closed the curtains over the kitchen window. He didn't really want to think about that right now.
He sets his mug down, more creamer than coffee, and turns his attention to the scattered materials taking up most of the space on his table. An old laptop that he'd first gotten for work, now cluttered with what little he could figure out how to search up, surrounded on all sides by note paper, library books, and his reliable tape recorder. He hit play on the cassette that was still inside as he reviewed what he had.
"Well, I did it. I've officially ended my time with the FBI. I really hope this doesn't turn out to be a bad idea."
A moment of silence.
"I've been thinking about where to go from here. I'm sure I could survive an office job, but I need to figure this out before I can settle down. I've been trying to find more information on the Hidden People, but so far, it's been slow going. They were coming here from somewhere else, but... why? And why do I get the feeling that's not the only thing I'm missing?" The recording crackles, a barely audible sigh. "I'm not even sure why it's bothering me so much. I found the truth, I finally solved the puzzle, so why...?"
"...Ugh, I'm rambling into the tape. Whatever it is, I need to get to the bottom of it. For my own sanity if nothing else. Agent- or, uh. I guess just Nelson now. Nelson out."
Papers shuffled, pages flipped to, computer finally given up on and shut down. He sets the recorder off to the side as the cassette clicks to it's end.
What he knows so far: the Hidden People were some kind of... fae? He assumed, at least. All evidence so far (which really just boils down to 'little red gnomes who live in the woods and also the moon', and isn't that one hell of a sentence) pointed towards the one conclusion.
He knows that they were the ones making people hear whispers, but weren't the ones making them disappear. That was the... other ones in the woods. So, one less thing to worry about. Hopefully.
What he doesn't know is... harder to quantify. He's pretty sure he could list every last question eating at him and still have points left out. Like, for example, why Scoggins specifically? Why gnomes of all things? Why him?
He briefly entertained the thought of getting back in contact with Dr. Versteckt. He's pretty sure he left the same last impression on him as the rest of town, and all he had on the man was a name, but what he wouldn't give to have someone who actually knew what they were doing around.
Maybe he could give Isaac a call? He'd seemed like he had experience with them.
...No, he felt guilty even thinking about it. The Davners had been through enough as it was, he couldn't drag them back into it for some wild goose chase.
So, to count his options: keep chipping away at the investigation alone, disturb someone who needed some peace, or go back to Scoggins on the off chance that anybody would be willing to humor him a third time.
Not much of a choice, was it.
God, he needs a break.
The sun is starting to rise as he closes the front door behind him, air still chilled from the night. He was pretty sure there was a small park a little ways away, seen out of the corner of his eye while driving past once or twice. Somewhere quiet where he could do his crosswords and get some fresh air for once.
Maybe that was his problem. Too long cooped up working and not enough sunlight. He certainly hadn't gone out much before the big case, and he definitely wasn't getting out much after it, either. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a workaholic, and puzzles tended to be an inside sport. The premade ones, anyway.
After this is done, he reasons with himself. He'll finish this, and then he'll start going out more. He'll join a book club or something. Or maybe he should start a club? He'll figure it out later. On his way back from the park, probably.
...Oh. He was already at the park. He was, in fact, about three steps away from accidentally walking past the park without noticing.
Well. At least it was empty. Nobody around to witness his embarrassment but himself.
There was a park bench close by, in front of a surprisingly good-looking flowerbed, for an empty square of grass. The sun had risen higher, warming the day pleasantly. The vague smell of dirt and mist sat under the cool breeze.
He sat down and pulled out his crossword book. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep himself away from the call of the mystery for long, but just for know, he could relax.