Friday, May 22, 2015

He watched as she sashayed across the floor. Watched as she reached the side of the bed, and pirouetted before him, her short silk gown billowing out, allowing him a glimpse of creamy thigh and buttock. He felt himself respond. God how he wanted her…needed her and that satisfaction that only she could supply. She bent down to him, her auburn locks covering the right side of her face, and gently kissed his lips. He reached out and grasped her by the hips, pulling her on top of him. She squirmed herself around until she was in that familiar place that would send them both into the stratosphere . He reached up for her small, firm breasts and….

He woke suddenly and, even before opening his eyes, instinctively moved his arm to the other side of the bed. Nothing. Nothing but cold sheets and a pillow with no case.

…and all that was just another damn dream….

Every day for years that had been his routine, reaching for her if only to ensure himself that she was really there…until a year and a half ago when she really wasn't and his reach yielded nothing but air. No warm, soft flesh or tangled, silky hair. Just…nothing…and the panic had set in.

That had lasted for months, now it was down to maybe two or three times a week. And the instant knowledge of what that emptiness meant no longer made the bile rise into his throat and the self-hate fill his head like it used to either. Now, it all just felt so…hollow.

He pulled his arm back, clasped his hands together, folded them across his chest, and tried to will himself back to sleep. And when that didn't work, he tried conjuring the will to get up. A long shaft of sunshine snuck in through a broken blind and landed on his right cheek. This bothered him and he let out a string of profanities before sliding himself out of bed, landing with a plunk on the beige carpet littered with sunflower husks and old Kleenex.

He sat there for several minutes nursing his hangover and contemplating an ugly bruise on his left calve. He had no idea how that got there. Finally, after struggling to stand, he made his way into the bathroom to relieve himself. While perfunctorily washing his hands, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the cracked and dirty mirror.

Fox Mulder….you look… like …sshhittt….

He picked up a gray t-shirt lying beside the over-flowing hamper and put it on. Forget pants, boxers were good enough for now.

In the kitchen, he sifted through a dozen or so bottles lying on the counter-top. Half a swig of Crown Royal? Shit, again. He tossed the bottle back onto the counter. Not worth the effort.

The fridge held a bottle of catsup, two shriveled apples, half a Vidalia onion, and a carton with seven eggs that expired three weeks ago. A shitty omelet it is then.

He carried the needed items over to the stove and proceeded to fix his meager, tasteless breakfast. He ate straight from the pan. He was halfway through when something rubbed across his leg. His sore, bruised leg. He almost kicked the offender before realizing that it was Persephone, the Angora cat Scully had gotten him for Christmas four years ago.

You know….to keep you company when I'm on call. Actually, she had noticed him starting to spiral downward even then, and thought maybe the cat would be good therapy…it wouldn't require as much maintenance as say, a dog. Of course it wasn't the same as a human, but a living, breathing body nonetheless. And, dammit, he spent too much time alone and she was worrying it was starting to play havoc with his psyche. And short of giving up her practice, she just couldn't be there with him all the time. Someone had to be bringing in some money.

Now, he looked down at the pile of hair sweeping across his legs and put his half-eaten breakfast on the floor.

"Yeah, you're hungry… I know. I'm sorry Persephone, I really am. I promise I'll make up a list today and call Brady over at the Park-and-Shop. Have him deliver us a box of food. What about Fancy Feast? You want some Fancy Feast this time?"

The cat meowed as if in reply.

"Fancy Feast it is. In the meantime, how's that omelet…good?"

Persephone took a couple licks of catsup, then grabbed a hunk of egg and ran under the table with it.

"I'll take that as a yes."

After he had put all the dirty dishes he could find in the dishwasher and thrown all the empty bottles and cans in the garbage, Mulder went out on the front steps with the cat and a cup of jasmine tea.

He knew he had to do something. He'd had long enough to grieve (but, had he?). If he continued on like this he'd probably be dead before he was sixty. And although a part of him still wanted to argue that… what did it matter if he was? What did he have to live for anymore anyway? His family was all dead, the x-files, his life's work was basically dead, (they'd only been called for one other case after the missing FBI/pedophile priest incident), Scully was gone, and his son….his only child….was…lost to him. And yada, yada, yada…. But, for the last couple of weeks, something had been creeping into that shit-soaked brain of his; that maniacal mind. He had a suspicion that that something was… the cat.

Persephone, or "Sephie" as Scully had often called her, had first slept beside their bed and eventually worked her way up to a nice, cozy spot between the two of them. When they needed her to exit said spot, say for one of their frenzied lovemaking sessions, or just because they wanted to cuddle unobstructed, Sephie would often retaliate by either urinating on the bathmat or pooping beside the kitchen table.

When Scully left, Persephone claimed that spot, but Mulder flailed and wailed so much at first that she took to lying at the end of the bed by his feet. Then that stopped, too.

"You never sleep with me anymore. Probably because I smell like ass most of the time. Sorry, Seph. I promise that before the days over I'll…I'll take a shower. And wash a load ...or two of clothes. Well, after Brady delivers some soap. And the sheets, I'll change the bed sheets. I guess it's pretty damn bad when even a cat can't stand to sleep with me."

He heard the phone ringing in the house, but he ignored it.

Yeah, he sure as hell needed to do something. He only had around 30K left in his savings and he was too young for Social Security. And probably not quite crazy enough for SSI, either. Sephie climbed onto his lap, gave his arm a couple of licks, and settled down for a nice purring session.

It was a beautiful day, he had to admit. Blue sky, probably low 80's, a warm breeze, flowers blooming in the fields, the air holding a hint of roses from the trellis at the side of the porch. He should be traipsing through those fields with his wife and son. He should have made Scully his wife years ago. Would she still be here if he would have? Would they be together here with their son if he hadn't disappeared just months after the baby's birth? Even when they eventually did get back together it wasn't like they could have just gone cruising up to Wisconsin and demand William back from the Van de Kamp's, and another "miracle child" probably wasn't in the cards. But…well there was surrogacy….adoption.

Yeah, well just shut the fuck up about all that. You both made mistakes, horrible, heartbreaking mistakes and… it…whatever we had…it's gone now. All gone.

…and the gravity of it all fell down on him like the proverbial ton of bricks.

The sobs came low at first with fat teardrops that rolled down his cheeks landing on Persephone and sending her scurrying out of his lap. She relocated a short distance away and lowered onto her haunches, her eyes hard on her master. She knew he was sliding, once again, into some dark place and needed to keep watch.

The cries became more aggressive and deep and he pounded the sides of his head as he rocked back and forth. Those old demons surged in with a vengeance and threatened to undo any progress he had made on his long struggle back towards normalcy.

He rolled over onto his side, knees to his chest and let the anguish overtake him. The tears and screams came no more, but the sunshine…the warmth…the smells….all vanished into that black hole he fell into. He couldn't breathe, couldn't feel, couldn't….anything.

His mind went back….