Post series, no spoilers, just an angsty drabble of my own creation. This has been reposted and edited a bit.


Testament

The long black tail of the canine sitting alone on the hardwood floor began to tremble in anticipation as he heard the swift click-clacks of footsteps outside the front door. When his owner came in, the dog's tail wagged too quickly for the eye to clearly see. The man would glance at the excited animal before going upstairs to change into casual wear. He would then return, pick up the old leash hanging on the coat rack by the door, and take the dog out into the world, which was usually quite dim at that point in the evening, no matter the time of the year.

This was the routine, as it had been for a while now. It had just never been this lonely.

During the walks through the typical suburban neighborhood, John could only acknowledge the world around him half-heartedly. The rich, earthy tones of autumn could not capture his interest and the brilliant hues of early spring would make no impression.

She should be here now, was all he thought. Too soon. It was too soon. He'd envision the beautiful smile that could turn night into day and the soothing symphony of laughter and words that captivated his mind and penetrated his very soul.

All he could remember were her pleading cries for him to stay back, to not get involved. As long as he didn't interfere, she would be fine. Had he honored that one simple request, she wouldn't have tried to protect him.

But he was a stubborn sort who played by his own rules. Anyone he worked with could attest to that.

In John's mind, ol' Toby the Labrador was the reminder and embodiment of the one thing he'd hoped to avoid entirely: disappointment. The way that he'd bow his head down on the floor as John left for work each morning spoke volumes.

"You are a dog person, John," she'd told him once. "I don't see you ever disappointing anyone."

And that's exactly what he did. He'd betrayed her, himself, even Toby.

The routine with Toby was an obligation to him. Not just as an owner, but as a modest means of sustaining his devotion to the one who completed him, who couldn't possibly be replaced in his fragmented heart.

Modest indeed. Like anything could compare with having her by his side once more.

How could he give up on this living being that, through all of the frustration and sadness, remained so willingly in his life? This time, he would make sure to never again take that loyalty for granted, assuming that it would always linger. He had shattered that feeling with the woman he loved when he'd let her die.

During those long walks, John could not help but wonder, with a painful twinge, if Monica would ever have forgiven him. The most agonizing part of the routine was always the end, when the dog waited expectantly for the constant attention of his human companion, but received none.

That was when he knew. It didn't matter what she would think. Not a bit. He'd just as soon die than release himself from the knowledge, the burden, of what he'd done.


FIN

So, I think I need some advice for writing X-Files fanfiction. Any tips? :)