Mondays Suck
By Mickey

Status: Completed 08/01/2014

Season: Pre-series

Archive: Ask first.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.

Word Count: 672

Author's Notes: Written in about 10 minutes and unbetaed. All mistakes are my own.

Mondays suck.

Some Mondays suck more than others, but they pretty much almost all suck.

I'm fairly certain that is the consensus amongst just about every school-aged child and working adult in this country. Perhaps even the planet.

Monday is the beginning of the work and school week. There seems to be an unwritten law somewhere that, no matter how well planned the day is, no matter if you get up *several* hours earlier than necessary, no matter how many times you've checked backpacks or lunch bags, *something* will be forgotten or broken. Somehow, someone will be late for school or work.

This Monday is going to be extra sucky though, because this Monday I leave for a very dangerous mission.

One that could very well be my last.

Sara is resigned. She hates when I have to go on these missions. Especially since all I can tell her is when I leave. I don't have to tell her it's extremely dangerous. She knows me to well, and has seen the damage done to me on previous such missions -the physical, *and* the emotional scars I carry. She knew what she was getting herself into when she married a military man. I was honest with her from the get-go about my involvement in Special Ops. Well, as honest as the United States Air Force will allow me to be.

Charlie, however, is only six. He didn't have a say in any of this. He doesn't understand why his Daddy has to leave so often, sometimes very suddenly. He doesn't understand why Daddy has had to miss some important days in his young life. Like his first day of school, or when he caught his first pop fly in T-ball last year. He doesn't understand why Daddy can't always be there to kiss his boo-boos better, or tuck him in at night and make sure there are no monsters (apparently, making sure there aren't any monsters in the closet or under the bed is the *one* skill Mommy has yet to master).

One thing I have made sure my kid does understand, and is sure of beyond a shadow of a doubt, is that his Daddy loves him. Always and forever. No matter where I am, how much he misbehaves (although, I gotta admit, I got lucky there and Charlie is a pretty well-behaved kid) and no matter what happens in life to take us away from each other, his Daddy *loves* him. More than anything else in the whole entire universe.

"Daddy! Come on! It's seven o'clock already!"

Speak of the devil. Usually, Charlie understands there will be dire consequences if he even attempts to wake me up before eight am on a weekend. Today I simply stretch and yawn, intentionally loudly as I glance at my pretending to be asleep, wife. She, of course, is smirking. I kiss her forehead, whisper "I love you", and roll out of bed as she whispers, "Love you too", as she rolls over and goes back to sleep.

"DAAAAAD!" Charlie hollers as I slip on my worn and comfy Air Force t-shirt and a pair of navy blue shorts.

"Coming, buddy," I yell out as I gram a pair of socks from the dresser, then make my way to the living room and grab my sneakers and glove from the hall closet. Charlie waits impatiently at the door, his brand new glove, hanging from his new bat, in his left hand, a new baseball in his right and bouncing from foot to foot, as I quickly throw on my sneakers. Apparently, he's been waiting a *whole fifteen minutes*! Of course, that's an eternity for an active little boy who just turned six a week ago.

Today, I refuse to think about what Monday brings. Why? Because today is Sunday. A beautiful, warm and sunny late-summer Sunday, and *all* I have to do today is kiss my wife, and play ball with my little boy.

And I intend to enjoy every last second of this day.

THE END