The old farmhouse is still but not really silent. Rodents scuttle in the attic and some little animal rustles in its nest under the eaves. The kerosene lamp on the floor beside my chair hisses softly and casts shadows down the darkened stairwell. It's a little eerie, but I'm comforted by the constant murmuring from the other side of the bedroom door.

Outside, the wind has picked up and now the whole house seems to sway a little with each gust, creaking and groaning. Funny, I didn't notice the force of the wind until a minute ago. Now it's obvious to me that a storm is coming this way. A hard rain will probably fall sometime tomorrow.

What is it about being in an old house at night that always gives me the creeps? This is even my own house. It was actually home until Mom died a few years back. I can't bring myself to sell the place, even though I'll never live here. It used to be warm and full of familiar sounds and smells, but now it's just a musty old place, full of heavy, draped furniture and peeling wallpaper. It doesn't look anything like I remember anymore.

We've been here three days and this is the third night.  I've been living on a bottle of Gatorade I had in my gym bag and a package of peanut butter crackers I found in my car. They said he wouldn't be hungry until after.

Just a few more hours.  Christ, I hope so. I'm tired and I hate waiting. I've been waiting for one thing or another for years.

I stand and look over the banister rail to the hall below, watching and listening. I stretch and yawn. I've been sitting outside his door in an armchair I dragged up the stairs from the living room. But it's a little too comfortable and I'm trying like hell not to doze off. I can't risk another night like last night. Last night I slept.

I slept, and someone got in -- in spite of all my precautions.

When we first arrived here, after I got him settled in an upstairs room, I secured this area as well as I could. I ripped up the carpets in the living room and front hall so that every unwary footstep would make the bare floorboards creak. I shoved the living room furniture against the walls so there'd be nothing for an intruder to hide behind if he tried to make his way up here undetected. I shut and locked all the interior doors. I stuffed and blocked both chimneys. The shutters were already nailed closed, so I didn't worry overmuch about the windows. My focus has been the living room and front hall, the staircase, and the gallery in front of his room. Nothing must interfere. No one must reach him. Right. So I go to sleep like a rookie and...

Oh.  Now that I think about it, I guess I'm noticing the noises of the house because my prisoner has stopped screaming for me to come back downstairs. Maybe that wound was worse than I thought. Ah, well.

I guess I should make the rounds again. I check my weapon making certain that I have a full clip and a round in the chamber. I click the safety off and ease down the stairs. This feels familiar: recon patrols in 'Nam made me feel this way. Exposed, edgy -- especially after last night's intrusion. That thought reminds me again to check on my prisoner.

She stopped screaming at me a couple of hours ago, so I'm not surprised to find her sagging listlessly against the headboard.  She startled me out of my little nap last night by breaking through the kitchen door. My aim was off and I only wounded her. The wound isn't too bad, and with the proper care I'm sure it would not be fatal.

But I'm not giving her the proper care and she's lost a lot of blood. It's beginning to soak my mother's mattress.

While I'm checking to make sure her wrists are still tightly cuffed to the headboard, her eyes slit open. She looks a bit feverish. Her voice is raspy but stronger than I expected as she asks for water. I just shake my head and turn toward the door.

"Walter," she says in a ruined voice. All that screaming, I guess. "Walter...  Why...?"

I turn back and stare at her. She's always been beautiful to me, and I love her blue eyes even now. But sometimes she's on the wrong side. Like last night.

I know she found us on her own. If that partner of hers knew where she was, he'd already be breaking the door down. She's alone, she's lost, and she knows it. It won't hurt for me to talk to her.

"You shouldn't have come, Dana. You shouldn't have tried to stop this."

"Walter... please. You have to... you have to know what they're doing to him. Don't you? Don't you know what's happening in that room upstairs?"

"Of course I do."

"Then why are you... oh, God... I trusted you! I thought you.... But you loved Mulder! You loved him. I know you did! Don't you know what this would do to him?"

"Of course I do."

She's fading now, and I know she'll be unconscious soon. Maybe she won't wake this time. She tries to speak again, but I think she just gives up. The tears are falling down her face now and I brush one away with my thumb.

"Dana. Mulder told me this would happen when it was time for us to know the answers. He wanted it to happen this way. I'm doing this because he told me to."

"No... Walter. This... can't be... Mulder is dead! Please!"

"They're giving him the answers, Dana. All the answers. Everything Mulder wanted to know, they're giving to *him* right now. Everything. Can you imagine what Mulder would have done with all the answers? This way, we'll get to find out." 

"He'll be a monster... just like Spender... Walter, can't you see that?"

I lean closer, kiss her forehead and whisper, "He'll be able to tell us what to do. And he'll be able to tell me who killed Mulder and why. I have to know, Dana. I deserve to know."

She's weeping silently now, so I leave her to it and head back up the stairs to stand watch outside his door.

Just a few more hours, and all the implanting will be finished. The others will go back where they came from and then Mulder -- twelve year old William Mulder -- and I will leave this place. We'll be gone before the storm hits, before the rain starts falling.

He'll share Mulder's truth with me. Together we'll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it. I'll look at him and see my Mulder, complete and whole and alive.

And this time, I won't lose him. I won't fail him. I'll be beside him every step of the way.

***************

Written for the 12th Lyric Wheel: The Horror Wheel

Thanks to Josan for beta (and for the new title).

Archive: wherever -- just let me know.

Thanks to Pollyanna for the lyrics!

A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall

by Bob Dylan

Oh where have you been, my blue eyed son?

Where have you been, my darling young one?

I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains

I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways

Stepped in the middle of seven sad forests

Been out in front of a dozen dead oceans

I've been ten thousand miles in mouth of a graveyard

And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall

And what did you see, my blue eyed son?

What did you see, my darling young one?

I saw a new-born baby with wild wolves around it

I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it

I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin'

I saw a room full of men with their hammers a bleedin'

I saw a white ladder all covered with water

I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken

I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children

And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall

And what did you hear, my blue eyed son?

What did you hear, my darling young one

I heard the sound of thunder that roared out a warning

Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world

Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a blazin'

Heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin'

Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin'

Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter

Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley

And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall

Oh who you did meet, my blue eyed son?

Who did you meet, my darling young one?

I met a young child beside a dead pony

I met a white man who walked a black dog

I met a young woman whose body was burning

I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow

I met one man who was wounded in love

Another man who was wounded with hatred

And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall

Oh what'll you do now, my blue eyed son?

What'll you do now, my darling young one?

I'm goin' back out 'fore the rain starts a-fallin'

Walk throught the depths of the deepest black forest

Where the people are many and their hands are all empty

Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters

Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison

Where the executioners face is always well hidden

Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten

Where black is the colour, and none is the number

And I'll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it

And reflect it from the mountains so all souls can see it

Then I'll stand in the ocean until I start sinking

But I'll know my song well before I start singing

And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall