Morticia shot up from her laying position, her head curled all the way back. Only when she was sitting completely upright did her head finally snap forward. She gasped for air, a small screech escaping her throat. Her hand darted up to her throat, dry from the cold air that was spilling in through the open window. The sky was amber, as the setting sun illuminated the winter sky. A fire crackled in the hearth, though it wasn't dyeing embers, but a full roaring fire. Her chest rose and fell heavily as she looked around the room in bewilderment. Morticia let her head hang slightly, as her mind raced. How could she have been so foolish? What cruel joke had her mind been playing on her to create something so vivid and impossible? Morticia was disgusted with herself. She threw the blankets off of her and stomped toward her closet, grabbing whatever was nearest. The black dress hung loosely from her thin frame, and drug across the floor as it was meant to be worn with heels. Morticia wandered toward her vanity, standing before the mirror. What a ruined beauty she was, and not in a good sense. Though her face seemed to have a glow about it, her scowl diminished it. She didn't bother with her hair or makeup, or even shoes. She didn't give a damn anymore. Morticia looked across the room at a bottle of scotch that sat atop the dresser. She stumbled over and grabbed it, not even thinking about using a glass, and took a big gulp from the bottle. Downing as much as she could stand, Morticia pulled the bottle from her lips, her stomach burning from the alcohol. Morticia smirked as the scotch began to take effect. Staggering toward the door, Morticia fumbled for the handle. After a few tries she finally managed to swing the door open, leaving a dent in the wall molding. She floated down the hall, skipping every few steps. Morticia took another swig of the scotch. If her body mind was going to be cruel to her, then she was going to be cruel right back. Damn her mind and damn her body. What use did she have of it now?
Morticia grabbed the railing of the stairs and swung around the corner, hopping down the stairs until finally jumping from three stairs up to the floor. She landed gracefully, despite being quite inebriated. It was dark outside by now, which meant that the children were in bed. Morticia was just aware enough to be thankful for that. There was no one else in sight, and the room was dark. Morticia, though her drunken gaze, did notice another small light shining underneath the doorway to Gomez's office. Taking another drink, Morticia made her way toward the door. She put her ear to the door, hearing the small crackles of a fire. She opened the door quietly, hoping to peek in and see who was occupying the room she had specifically asked be left alone. After the news of Gomez's death, Morticia forbid anyone from stepping foot in his office. All of his personal and business things were to be left alone. Even she had not entered this room since, hoping to seal in what was left of his presence. Often times she would sneak in when he was working, reach over his chair from behind, and bite at his neck. He always loved when she was the one being playful, when more than often it was he who was doing to pawing.
She giggled to herself at this memory as she peering in through the doorway, having not made a sound. The fireplace was lit, the small amber light illuminating the walls and silhouetting the furnishings. Smoke curled up from the chair nearest the fireplace. Morticia's face burned with fury, her mind was still playing tricks on her. Well, to hell with it! If her was going to give her this reverie, then she might as well enjoy it. Even if it was only mental and not physical. She knew from past experiences, that Gomez would never be in true physical form. Though, the previous events of the day before had shattered that rule. Morticia figured it was more of a dream than a hallucination; at least, this all made sense in her mind anyway.
Morticia top-toed toward the chair, the carpet beneath her feet muffling her steps. The smell of cigar smoke filled her senses and warm room gave her chills. She peered over the back of the chair, seeing an open newspaper. Stepping around the side of the chair, Morticia slid across the velvet until she rest atop the chair arm, the bottle of scotch falling to the floor with a thud. Gomez looked up from his newspaper, startled, "My dear, what-" but Morticia stopped him with a finger to his lips. "Shhhhh..." she cooed, sliding down the arm of the chair onto his lap, "shut the hell up," she slurred. She wrapped her arms around his neck and moved herself closer to him. Her nose bumped his ear as she breathed down his neck. Morticia bit his ear, her tongue running across the small bit in her mouth. Gomez set down the newspaper, his arms running up her legs and stopping at her waist. Morticia moved from his ear and buried her face in his neck, biting and kissing his sensitive skin. Gomez groaned as his grip around her tightened. Morticia kissed her way up his neck and down his jaw line, his freshly shaven skin soft beneath her lips. Gomez breathed in her scent, letting out a small laugh when he smelled the scotch, "Cara mia, are you drunk?" he chuckled.
Morticia's had shot up and slightly tapped Gomez's cheek, "I told you to shut up," she breathed between kisses. He was shaking from laughter, Gomez could not even count on one hand how many times Morticia had let herself drink too much. She was always careful to never make a fool of herself, except for in front of him, and even still it was rare. The hand that was against his cheek moved her grab around his mouth. She squeezed his face in her hands, his lips puckering out foolishly. Morticia looked at him through squinted eyes, "I don't care if you're just a figament of my damned imagnation. I am going...to ride you 'till your dick breaks off."
Gomez roared with laughter, he shook so that he slid down in his chair. Morticia smirked at him through her drunken stupor, giggling along with him. Gomez finally regained his composure, "What do you mean I'm a figment of your imagination?" laughed
Morticia sat back, her expression changing and her drunkenness seeming to fade away. She was silent for a moment. Staring deep into his eyes, she swallowed and whispered, "I know you're not here."
Gomez blinked a few times, the room closing in around them. He slid himself out from under her, taking her face in his hands as she stooped above her, "Quireda, as truly as your heart beats in your chest, I am here."
Tears swelled in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. Morticia reached up and grabbed his face in return, "My heart stopped beating when I was told you were dead." she whimpered.
Gomez knelt back down, moving his face closer to hers. Her shook her shoulders slightly, "My love, what will it take for you to accept that I am here?" tears filling his own eyes.
Morticia grimaced as her hands fell to her sides and she began to sob. Her head tilted back as she whaled, her body shaking as she heaved between cries. Gomez's hands pulled away, never in their marriage had he seen his wife in such a state. Especially now after their reunion had already taken place. Gomez thought he had understood what his absence had meant, but never had he expected his Morticia to be so devastated. She was the stronger of the two, always the one to keep it together. Always the one to overcome any obstacle and to never let life interfere with her duties. Yet here she was now, completely broken. She needed him just as much as he needed her.
Tears streamed down his face as his head fell to her lap, "Forgive me, my eternity."
Morticia looked down at him, her cries less vocal. She lifted his head from her lap and slid down from the chair to the floor below. Immediately they embraced, both choking back soft sobs. As they had before, Morticia and Gomez sat that way for some time. Holding each other tightly, and never wishing to let go.
"I forgive you," Morticia whispered.