TITLE: Mother Maggie
AUTHOR: Shoshana
EMAIL ADDRESS: shoshana1013@yahoo.com
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Gossamer and by request.
SPOILER WARNING: 'The Truth'
RATING: PG-13
CLASSIFICATION: VRA
KEYWORDS:  MSR, Bill Scully, Jr., Maggie Scully
SUMMARY:  My son has been hiding something from me...
DISCLAIMER: These characters do not belong to me.
NOTE: This is the second of several short vignettes.  'Big Brother
Bill' precedes this one.  Thanks to my wonderful beta reader Sallie!
 

Mother Maggie
By Shoshana

July 3rd, 2002

My son has been hiding something from me.  I can't tell you exactly
how I know, I just do.  Since early June, our phone conversations
have had a strained quality to them.

I first attributed this problem to Dana and Fox's recent burial in
our family plot in Maryland.  Bill was there, along with other
family, friends and the FBI curious.  No one was unwelcome during the
memorial service, which was held in the cemetery itself.  All but the
closest of friends left before the caskets were lowered into the
freshly dug graves.

I know he thinks I've lost my mind because I still don't believe
they are dead.  Neither of us believed the bodies were Fox and Dana
at first, but I think he's accepted the evidence presented to us by
the FBI lab.  I don't really want to discuss it with him; he's always
been such a skeptic, as was his sister.

Ah, see I have referred to her in the past tense.  I don't want to
do that, yet it's inevitable that I will, isn't it?.  Especially now
that I am here in San Diego, sitting in the front seat of my son's
minivan.  We are driving home from the airport and I can tell by his
tightly clenched jaw and white-knuckled grip upon the steering wheel
that there is trouble in Paradise.

Bill insisted I come out for July Fourth this year.  I've never come
out west for any minor holiday--Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, that
was about it.  I told him I'd be fine on my own, that Charlie would
come up from Florida if I asked him to come.

The urgency of his request has aroused my suspicions, of course.  I
am determined to discover just what he is concealing from me.  My
children have all been terrible liars; I'm sure it's a direct result
of the way they were raised.  Their father expected... no, demanded,
nothing but complete honesty from his children.

I was an equally rigorous disciplinarian, I suppose.  I had to be;
Bill was off at sea for such long periods of time.  We never struck
our children, as I too frequently witnessed in other families on
base.  In a soft, stern voice, Bill would ask the kids pertinent
questions, getting to the heart of the matter as swiftly as possible.

They knew the punishment for lying was severe, grounded for a week,
maybe more.  I like to think it was not only that penalty that kept
them honest, but also their love and trust in their parents.  There
was no reason to lie because every situation would be handled
impartially.  We tried our best and all our kids became smart,
compassionate human beings.

My chest tightens painfully as I remember the dark days following
Melissa's death.  The obvious parallel to this past month had not hit
me before today.  Violence from some unseen, unstoppable force within
our own government...  Yes, I have been paying attention, baby girl,
you were woefully correct about the powers that be.

Bill sighs for the sixth or seventh time since we pulled away from
the airport parking lot and I can no longer sit here in this
uncomfortable, unnatural silence.  If he thinks I was born yesterday,
he is about to find out otherwise.

"Bill?" I say, to gently gain his attention.

"Mom?" he chokes out nervously, hands still gripping the steering
wheel, eyes glued straight ahead.  He can sense from my tone of voice
that I mean business.

"You are going to tell me what is going on, aren't you?" I demand.

He flinches only marginally, releasing one hand to smooth back his
hair, a nervous gesture I am well acquainted with by now.  His tongue
seeks the corner of his mouth, another characteristic nervous tic I
have seen many a time.  He doesn't turn to look at me, but I can see
a single tear streaming down his cheek.

I ask him with a trace of panic in my voice, "Is it Tara, or
Matthew?  Is there something wrong, Bill?"

All my suspicion has become painful apprehension now; I hadn't
thought anything could be worse than what we had to go through last
month.  Although I will never, ever, believe they are really dead,
living through their funeral was a hell I don't want to revisit.

"No, no, Mom!  Nothing is wrong."

Bill finally turns toward me slightly and I discover the unexpected--
joy, sheer happiness in those bright, blue eyes.  He quickly
remembers to keep his eyes on the road and directs his attention to
the freeway once again.  I notice his chin quivering with emotion;
his lips forming a nascent smile.

"What, what is it?"  I demand.  I don't want to distract him from
his driving, but he has to tell me.  Now.

"It's all good, Mom.  All good.  Can you wait just a few minutes
until we get home?  Unless, you can't... in that case, I really need
to pull over to talk about this..."

I smile at my full-grown son, who is on cloud nine for the first
time in months.  My child continues to surprise me, even as he
approaches middle age.  I hope I will never be a doddering old
matron, unable to appreciate the changes in my children, or my
grandchildren, for that matter.

"Drive home, Bill.  Tell me in the driveway, tell me in the house.
Just get me there in one piece," I say with new levity.

I know what his secret is and I know he will break down in the
telling of it.  I don't know how I know this... but I'm so grateful,
to God, to all those who have helped Dana and Fox.  I know this is
the miracle I have prayed for; I know it is my fondest heart's
desire.

Drive home, Bill.  My children are waiting for me.

fin

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