A Child Across the Sky // X-files

\\ Chapter Six \\

Hartley cabin
North of Redding, California

It was still fall, Mulder discovered when he was allowed to venture outside. Doyle was more of a mother hen with Mulder than he was with Abby May which was to be expected under the circumstances. The vague uneasiness that Mulder felt was growing now and was not to be denied. Something was not right here, something was in fact quite rotten. It concerned him only because he was in the middle of it and that made him feel even more helpless than he already was. It made him feel emotionally bereft. Since he'd so far been unable to feel much of anything, being able to identify the lack of emotion was probably a good sign. Mulder slept fitfully if at all and was frequently jolted out of sleep by what he assumed to be the night sounds of the woods. But something deep inside Mulder knew that was bullshit.

Something knew the truth.

The Truth.

He needed to know why that word was so important to him, why it sent shivers down his spine. He needed to know why she visited him at night. Mulder's boots crunched on the bed of pine needles. He kept one eye on the cabin, ready to bolt if he heard the door slam. Mulder stopped, hands on his knees, and tried to catch his breath. It was still difficult to breathe but the bullet hole in his leg was healing rather nicely. It hadn't been as bad as -- Mulder jerked upright, eyes glazing over as he tried to finish the thought.

"Dammit," he swore softly. So far, he had been unable to capture any of the strands that floated through his damaged mind. They swarmed through him, taunting him, tantalizing him. And even though the little voice he'd been relying heavily upon told him that these random thoughts were crucial to his existence, there was a relief in not being able to recall events, people, things, emotions. He almost felt...free. Which was ironic, in a way, since he felt so trapped in that house. Abby had trapped him, like some small stupid animal, too instinctual to know anything but immediate
survival. That had definitely been him. And now...he shook his head, walked deeper into the woods. And stopped.

The moon peered through the tops of the trees, glowing amber against the velvety evening sky. A harvest moon, Mulder recalled. That's what Doyle said they were called. The moon was huge and swollen and Mulder imagined it
as his mind, swollen with memories it was unable or unwilling to divulge. He stared at the moon thoughtfully, trying to be still in his mind so that the tickle of a thought wouldn't be chased away. The moon...the stars, twinkling brightly, almost mechanically...

Almost in a trance, Mulder moved through the trees and towards the moon. It grew bigger in his eyes, reflecting through them and into his soul. And then it changed, shifted, morphed. Into her. It was almost too much. Her green cloak hid the moon but the intense brightness still managed to illuminate the forest. It illuminated her almost, casting an eerie amber glow around the moving cloth. Mulder stopped in his tracks, wary but no longer afraid. She wanted him to be afraid, wanted him to plead with her as he'd done the first time he'd seen her. To tell the truth, he was tired of her. He was tired of the games, of the way she'd show him the child in order to draw him out. She glided towards him, arms outstretched a tad theatrically. Mulder narrowed his eyes at her.

"What cardinal rule have I broken now?" he inquired pleasantly. She hovered before him, raised her hands. He sighed, shook his head, and turned to go.

"Wait."

Mulder didn't. He picked his way nimbly through the forest, trying to ignore the fuzziness in his head that meant he'd been up too long. He could barely see the cabin through the trees and wondered hazily if he might not just enjoy spending the night on a lovely bed of pine needles.

"Wait," she commanded again, but Mulder wasn't hearing her. His lungs were burning with the effort of taking in air and Mulder was beginning to panic. Deep breaths, he told himself as he gasped horribly. He began to run, limp really, trying desperately to reach the clearing before his lungs stopped working altogether. As he gasped what he was fairly certain would be his last, a velvety soft hand touched his shoulder. Mulder stopped.

She'd never touched him before. Never. The soft touch exerted pressure on his shoulder and he felt himself sinking to the ground, wheezing and praying for air. The figure knelt before him and he could once more see into the depths of her serious gaze.

"I am here to help you," she said quietly, her voice like the murmur of air through the trees. Mulder would have thought it beautiful if he wasn't dying.

"Help me?" he wheezed. He began coughing, the racking cough that generally ended with the inhaler, which he had left in the cabin. The woman put a hand on his chest, almost pushing air into his lungs. Mulder's eyes widened and he looked at her. He drew in a breath, wheezing only slightly.

"What did you do?" he asked hoarsely.

"Nothing Abby May wouldn't have done, except she would exact some payment from you," the voice told him. She'd never told him anything of use before. Mulder seized on it.

"What are you?"

She considered him for a moment, then rose.

"You know what I am. Look inside," she replied mysteriously. Mulder sighed. She was back to this again.

"Fine, play your games," he said nastily, rising unsteadily to his feet.

She turned and pointed a slender pale arm towards the moon.

"You are here for the moon," she said quietly. Mulder stared at her, then looked up at the harvest moon again. Here for the moon...maybe she'd clarify, if he asked nicely.

"Did I come here for the moon?" he asked slowly. She nodded.

"Yes."

And with that, she was gone. Mulder blinked. The amber light of the moon glowed through the trees once more, unencumbered by the dark cloak of the woman. He had come for the moon...what in the hell did that mean?

Mulder jerked around as he heard the door of the cabin slam. He could see Abby May, in a bright yellow cotton dress, standing on the porch, hands on hips. He sighed and slowly made his way through the trees and into the clearing, towards Abby May.

E N D   P A R T   O N E
the sun turns to the moon

t h e   x - f i l e s
a child across the sky