Afternoon Weirdness 14: Hard Times
by Te
10/98

Disclaimers: Not mine, but the drugs are.

Spoilers: Not a one.

Ratings Note: Ummm... call it R. And S. The sillyheads 
have returned.

Summary: Mulder muses on life.

Author's Note: torch told me to get a new fetish. Blame
*her*.

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Afternoon Weirdness 14: Hard Times
by Te
Daddy793@aol.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I watched my lover preparing to leave by the smoky grey 
light of another Alexandria dawn. It was always like this, 
me, lying amidst the tangled sheets of our forbidden 
passion.

Alex, fumbling with his Barney suit.

Purple was so *wrong* on him.

Times were hard for everyone in the New World Order, and 
Alex's decision to fight on my -- losing -- side had cost 
him dearly. Oh, I knew well that blaming myself for this 
didn't really help either of us, but it's so much easier to 
do than the alternative.

I did not look forward to reporting to my new assignment. 
Long had I known of the Consortium's evil, but I'd never 
suspected they could sink so very, very low. 

Later this afternoon, as I had done every day for the past 
four years, I would pull my uniform on carefully. Brush 
imaginary particles of grey, smoky dust from my gleaming 
nameplate. Shine my sensible wingtips.

And lead tours through the National Museum. 

But not for a few more stolen hours of lassitude. Yes, I 
would think of my poor, lopsided Alyoshalet. I would weep 
for him, bitter, smoky tears, for I could not bear to weep 
for myself. 

Alex didn't look at me, he never did in times like these. 
But I know he could feel my sobs. I know they burned in his 
soul.  He loves me deeply, in his way, and I treasure it. 

Like the half-eaten deep-fried banana sandwich I stole 
from Graceland, sealed clean and forever new in lucite, a 
diamond of plastic. 

Like his pink, fluffy bunny slippers. 

Alex set the bulbous head on his scarred shoulders, and 
then and only then would he face me, bright glare of 
morning sun on teeth of felt. So sharp in their false joy.

"I love you, Mulder. And you love me."

I keened for a moment before I could reply. "We... we're a 
perfect family, Alyoshawampus."

He nodded, big purple head wobbling a bit. He never could 
get it properly fastened, but I would never dare to help. 
It was not our way.

And when he left, I turned to my pillow, breathing deep of 
his essence, now one of the few tangible reminders of his 
presence in my life. And I wept.

Because I knew, now, what I had to do.

His slippers... 

Pink, like his skin after a time in the killing sun.

Cute, like his adorable widdle noselet.

Fluffy, like his hair after that time in the big industrial 
dryer. Oh, God! I wailed. Will the bruises never fade?

But I could not weep anymore. 

I was growing dehydrated.

The slippers were right where he'd left them, tucked neatly 
beneath our battered couch. Alex didn't know -- I will 
never tell -- but I'd named them long since. No, I will not 
lie about this. When first I saw their googly eyes shining 
plasticly at me from their cardboard-ian home I heard their
voices in my very soul. 

"Fox," they said, squeaky tones. Furry tones. "Call us by 
our names, Fox, for we know you, as you know us."

And it was clear in my mind, then. Names, true and real, 
brushing through the grey smokiness of my brain matter.

Flopsy.

And Fou Fou.

I trembled like a child. I remembered tales of Fou Fou. And 
angels. And rodents. I cried --

Well, I just cried. And then I said, "Fou Fou, please tell 
me -- Are you here for my Sexylexei, my snookums, my 
*soul*?!"

And Fou Fou laughed, then, smokily. "No, my Fox. I swear, 
I would never hurt one that you love, for I love you, too."

And I sighed, then, relieved as a woman for whom the rabbit 
has not died. I would be safe with them. 

Today I tugged them gently from their dusty cradle, softed 
the fuzz from their eyes. I needed them.

I placed them on my naked form, hopped them over my rosy 
nipples just to hear them giggle, to feel the drag of soft 
fur on my skin.

Flopsy looked at me sadly, though. "Again, my Fox?"

I sighed, felt another grey tear slide down my stubbled 
cheek before setting them to do their Bunnyesquian Dance on 
my turgid, rampant flesh. 

"Yes, my little loves, again."

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End.
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