This is a repost with minor revisions. Originally posted in
2003.

TITLE: The End of Summer
AUTHOR: Christine Leigh 
E-MAIL: leighchristine@hotmail.com 
RATING: G 
CATEGORY: Vignette 
KEYWORDS: AU 
SPOILERS: None. 
SUMMARY: Post-season nine.  William POV.
DISCLAIMER: All characters are the products of Chris
Carter. They also belong to Ten-Thirteen Productions and the
Fox Network. No copyright infringement intended. 


The End of Summer
by Christine Leigh

It is still and hot.  The water is a mirror, and for the
thousandth time it seems, sitting there on the dock, the boy
looks at his reflection hoping to see something.  The adults
all say he is such a cute little boy, but William doesn't know
exactly what that means.  His eyes are greenish-brown, or
hazel, as his mother calls them, and his hair is a curly brown
mop that will throw off glints of dark red in just the right
light.  His nose is strong, Mom says.  He's not sure what that
means either, but he's happy with his nose.  It's the one thing
that he gets about his face.  Dad says he can be a stubborn
little guy, too, and jokes that he must have some Irish in him. 
After hearing this William had asked Dad to help him find
Ireland on his globe, and after it was pointed out, he
would sometimes sit and stare at the green island for minutes
on end as if he were hoping for some clue to jump out and
announce itself to him.  His mother smiles tentatively when
she sees him do this.  She knows her son is special.  Not for
any particular reason that she is able to fathom, but she
knows that the dreaming he does at times like this isn't any
ordinary daydreaming.  She has worked hard at, and is
coming to accept that her son goes places inside his
little head that are beyond her tangible world, and always
would be.  

Now, as he is staring at his image in the water, William is
hoping once more to see the truth.  Even a little piece of it
would thrill him.  He believes that his family loves him, and
he loves them back as best he can.  But he also knows there
are others somewhere who call him theirs, and who, he dares
hope, love him, too.  Sometimes at night before he falls
asleep, he will see them in his mind's eye, but they are gone
when he awakens the next morning, as is his memory of their
faces.  It has never been said aloud to him, but he knows that
he was not born to Mom and Dad.  He knows that as surely
as he knows that tomorrow is the last day of summer.  The
day after that he goes to school, for real.  Kindergarten had
been only until noon each day last year, and now he will be
away all day until the bus brings him back at three.  He's
worried about being away so long every day from the farm
and his pets and his room with his globe and his favorite
books, but he's resigned himself to this new phase of life.  He
enjoyed playing with the other boys and girls last year, but
over the summer he'd come to like his solitary
existence again, and he isn't sure that he will fit in with the
other children.  Dad says that he thinks too much sometimes,
and that he'll fit in just fine.  Dad says that he'll get back into
the groove, whatever that means.   

William would sit here musing upon his elusive little dream
world until the sun went down if he were allowed, but Mom
will be calling him in to dinner soon, and after that they will
watch television or a movie before bedtime arrives, always a
little earlier on Saturday than Friday, since there is church the
next morning.  He is somehow feeling older tonight than his
five and a half years, but that will pass.  Most of the time he
feels just like the boy that he is.  Maybe going to school will
make these odd spells go away.  He ponders that idea for a
moment.  Does he really want that to happen?  Sometimes his
heart is so full he thinks he will explode, but then things
return to normal just in time.  The *groove,* he thinks,
what a funny word.  But if getting back into it makes him feel
normal, then he hopes he can do that.  

He gets up and starts walking back to the house.  Along the
way he hears cawing and looks up to the sky where he sees
crows flying over.  There have been a lot of crows this
summer, and sometimes William will imagine that he is one
of them and is flying away.  Far away?  To Ireland?  Or
maybe just to the next town?  That could be, couldn't it?  Yes,
he will fly away.  To wherever *they* are.  His dream people. 
Or are they?

Summer has ended.


- end -  

     
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