Title: Monday, Monday Summary: They didn't show all the people affected by the day. One mother's view. Spoiler for Monday Rating: G Category: V A character deaths (but maybe . . .) Disclaimer: 10-13 owns the characters, the Mamas and the Papas own the title and I don't know who owns On Eagles Wings but I'm sure they're gonna play it at my son's First Communion and I'll cry all the way through it again. I disclaim any infringement on any copyrights. Bless you Susan and Brandon for looking it over. Susan indicated a TISSUE WARNING might be in effect Thanks to everyone who begged for a fill in the blank. This is just one possible, one I hadn't seen yet. Started Mar. 10, 1999, finished March 11, 1999. Monday, Monday by Vickie Moseley vmoseley@fgi.net I knew this day would come. Oh, I'd prayed that I wouldn't live long enough to see it. And in my prayers, I wished that maybe it would never come, whether I was alive to witness the events or not. But in the back of my mind, in the darkest corner of my heart, I knew. Mr. Skinner must have seen our car approach. I understand why he sent another agent to come to my home, to get me here. Mr. Skinner had called me, of course. Almost immediately, I suspect. Before the dust had time to settle on the ground. He's coming toward us now. I have seen that look. It's the same look Fox has had in his eyes. The look he turned toward me time and again when Dana was missing. The look he tried to keep guarded from her, from me when she was so sick with cancer. Just recently, that look was back when we both flew at breakneck speed to a hospital in New York. Mr. Skinner feels responsible for this. I want to reach out, take his hand, as I've often done with Fox. Tell him that this is not his fault. That this was a freak mishap, that it was a horrible accident. But I know he'd never listen to my words. He reaches out to touch my shoulder. I know he's not expecting it, but I put my arms around his chest and let the tears fall, just for a moment. That's all the time I can spare. Just a moment. There is too much work to be done right now. The dark months of grief stretch before me, but today, I can push them back, hold them at bay while I concentrate on what must be done. I pull back and look up at him. "Have they recovered the bodies?" He bites his lower lip, chews it in a fashion that I can see will make it bleed soon. He shakes his head slowly. "I'm sorry. They were . . . they must have been . . . very close to the bomb." I hold back another sob. I never expected this. I never expected that the destruction would be so complete that I wouldn't even have her body to say goodbye. "Were they," I start, but have to swallow back my words with my tears. I try again. "Were they together?" Mr. Skinner nods quickly. His sad eyes giving me that much reassurance. She wasn't alone in the last moments. He was with her. And her with him. That thought all by itself is enough to give me some comfort. "Have you contacted his mother?" I ask. If not, if they haven't gotten hold of her yet, I think it might be better if I was the one to call. But he stares out into the grime filled day and nods yes again. "She . . . she took it fairly well. I've sent an agent from the Boston office to be with her. She should be arriving sometime later tonight." I nodded, knowing that it's one meeting I had hoped would occur under different circumstances. I'd never met the woman who had given life to the most important person in my daughter's life. Now, I would be meeting her only to plan two funerals. The irony makes my stomach ache and roll. "The Bureau will hold a memorial, of course," Mr. Skinner is saying over the noise of the rescue crews and the sounds of the firemen putting out the remnants of the blaze that followed the explosion. "My assistant, Kim, will be happy to talk over any special hymns or prayers . . ." He stops and I can tell that for him, this isn't just a part of the job. My daughter and her partner meant something to this man. I've lost a child and a friend today. He has lost two people in his life, too. I put my hand back on his arm. "Thank you. I think, I think I know of a song that Dana would want at such a service." The song, in my daughter's voice, comes to me out of the fog of smoke and dust. 'And He will raise you up on eagle's wings, bear you one the breath of dawn, make you to shine like the sun and hold you in the palm of His hand.' A sob clutches my chest and I have to let it out. Have I gotten her back only to lose her forever? "Why, Mr. Skinner?" I ask, not really expecting an answer. "Why couldn't she have . . ." I leave the sentence open. How could I possibly end it? With what event in her life would this outcome have been changed? If she never entered the FBI? If she'd never been teamed with Fox Mulder? If she'd never walked into that bank this morning? Mr. Skinner's face seems to crumple just for a split second. I realize that it hurts him more to show emotion than to feel it and I regret my words said in callousness and need. But he speaks, in tightly controlled words with a voice like steel. "I wish I knew, Mrs. Scully. They've been through so much. I thought they'd finally made it. We were at a meeting. A stupid, bureaucratic meeting that was already two hours too long. I can't tell you at what point it went wrong, at what point we could have changed this fate. All I can tell you is, if I had it in my power, I would surely do anything to stop this, to avoid it from ever coming to pass. If only I had the power." An agent, standing near the rubble of the bank entrance, calls to him. He jerks his head in their direction and nods slowly, tiredly. He looks at me for a moment, begging my forgiveness for his departure. I nod and with my eyes give him leave. As he leaves, I bow my head and pray for the power to change the way things are. To have this day back to do over again, to make it all right. As I pull my head up, a young woman is staring at me from the crowd. Blond hair disheveled, tears streaking down her face. Blue eyes so bottomless that they appear without hope. She's lost someone, too, I can tell. I don't know her, but she's looking at me with a sadness and a recognition that chills me to the bone. As I give her a questioning look she smiles, rather slightly and mouths these words to me. "I'm trying." the end. "Monday, Monday. Can stop that day. Monday, Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way. Monday morning, you gave me no warning of what was to be. Oh Monday, Monday how could you leave and not take me." Mamas and the Papas I seem to be stuck on songs from the sixties. Maybe it was the total absence of disco . But of all of the songs I could think of, this one fit the best. Vickie ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ May the road rise up to meet you May the wind be always at your back May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rains fall soft upon your fields And, until we meet again, May God hold you in the Palm of his Hand Happy St. Paddy's Day ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^