From: Muzinke@aol.com
Date: Tue, 6 Jun 2000 22:31:24 EDT
Subject: xfc: Threnody- Failed Vigilance (1/1)
Source: xfc

TITLE: Threnody- Failed Vigilance 
AUTHOR: Tarin Z. Kesumin
E-MAIL: Muzinke@aol.com
CATEGORY: Not exactly a WIP, more like an 
ongoing string of connected vignettes.
KEYWORDS: MSR implied, Angst, Skinner POV 
RATING: G
SUMMARY: "Years of careful vigilance ended at the 
edge of the Oregon woods, when I failed in the 
promise I made to my eight-year-old self, and to 
Scully."
SPOILERS: Requiem (shocking, I'm sure <g>). 
DISCLAIMER: Mulder, Scully, Skinner, The 
Gunmen, are all property of CC, FOX, and 1013 
productions. No copyright infringement is intended, 
no profit is being made. Just killing time until the 
season eight premiere. 
ARCHIVE: Gossamer, Xemplary, Spookys are fine. 
Anywhere else, just ask me first. I haven't said no to 
anyone yet.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I have no idea just how for I 
plan on taking this...It'll be a long summer, though, 
so stay tuned. I'm planning on posting the first four 
stories over the next few days. The title, threnody,
means literally 'mournful chant' or 'lament', and is also 
a synonym for requiem. Information about Skinner's
time in Vietnam is based on information found at the
'Deep Background' website and written by Gil Trevizo.

Thanks to Suzanne, once again, for the excellent 
beta. 

Feedback is greatly appreciated at: Muzinke@aol.com
Check out my other stories at my website:
http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Orion/TheHole.html

*   *   *

When I was eight years old, I lost my younger 
brother. 

Just the three of us-Mom, my brother, and I- had 
gone to the ice cream parlor to escape the summer heat. 
Inside, it had been more than crowded; a crush of 
children lined the ice cream case, noses making 
sweaty smudges against the glass. 

"Just be sure to watch out for your brother," Mom 
had responded when I asked if we might go and join 
the clamor. He had only been five at the time, the 
baby of the family. Needless to say, I was quick to 
resent being assigned the baby-sitter.

I held his hand until I was certain we were out of 
Mom's line of sight, then proceeded to peel his humid 
palm from mine and rush ahead through the crowd. 

Eyes bigger than my stomach, I began the exacting 
process of choosing the perfect flavor, eyes squelched 
shut as a sang to myself, <eenie-meenie-mienie-mo>. 
Sugary-cool treasure was soon to be mine, just as 
soon as Mom...

"Walter, where's your brother?"

We finally found him, what seemed to be hours later, 
ogling the ice cream cakes at the far end of the 
congested parlor.

For the first time, I truly felt the oppressive weight of 
failure and guilt, the moment I saw my shortcomings 
reflected in the shine of my mother's relieved tears. 

That was the day I became vigilant. I would never be 
so careless with my charges again.

Throughout my service in Vietnam, the Marines 
under my command referred to me as 'Mama Bear'. 
Joked about my strict discipline, the "wacked-out" 
emphasis I placed on watching each other's back at 
all times. 

Men died under my command; in war, it is unrealistic 
to think otherwise. But no man was ever left to face 
the jungle alone. Not in my unit.

My extended tour of duty behind me, and the war coming 
to a close, I found my niche stateside in the halls of the 
Hoover building. Rose through the ranks, excelled as an 
agent and as an administrator. I developed a 
reputation for being a "hard-on" after asking for the 
resignation of an agent who, while executing an arrest,
had not provided adequate cover for his partner. 

The measure may have been extreme, but it left no 
question to the remaining agents under my command 
as to where I stood. Some pushed the limits of my 
resolve-one agent in particular comes to mind-but 
the understanding was never in question. Partners 
were never to leave each other unprotected. 

My years of careful vigilance ended, however, at the 
edge of the Oregon woods, when I failed in the 
promise I made to my eight-year-old self, and to 
Scully.

When I was 48 years old, I lost Mulder. 

And now, as I did then, I am forced to explain myself, 
my failure, to the very one who trusted me to be as 
they would-mother to the son, partner to the man. 
The guilt is the same. 

*   *   *

End.
*   *   *