La Estrella de la Maņana
By Keleka 
Email: keleka@keleka.net
Distribution: Gossamer ok. 
Rating: PG
Spoiler Warning: If you don't know who Monica Reyes is, turn back
now.
Classification: VR
Content Statement: Skinner/Reyes Romance
Summary: I can't seem to stop smiling since I met you. 

Archive: No to Xemplary. Yes to others. Please tell me
where so I can visit.
Disclaimer: If I owned this cash cow, do you really think
I'd be living in Nebraska?
Feedback: It's welcome in my house! 
Author's Note: Huge steaming piles of thanks to Fabulous Monster
for her usual All-Star beta job. 
The rest of my fanfic can be found at:
http://www.keleka.net/keleka/


La Estrella de la Maņana
by Keleka


Watching you sleep is my newest obsession.

The first time you came to my bed, words were unnecessary. We both
wanted the same thing. Our coupling was fast and furious, and
ultimately satisfying. Afterwards, you couldn't get away fast
enough. I know you saw the hurt in my eyes as you threw on your
clothes, mumbling about an early morning meeting with the Director.
 

Your conduct weighed on your conscience the next day. At work, you
called me 'Agent' and I called you 'Sir.' When you bravely made
eye contact, I smiled and, finally, you relaxed a little. Everyone has
those 'oh-my-God-what-have-I-done' moments; I wasn't angry that you
had one. When you called me later and asked me to join you for
dinner, I accepted. The next morning you didn't run away.  

Tonight you lie on your back with me cozied on your shoulder, your
arm looped around me in that possessive way you have, even in your
sleep. It's warm tonight and the blanket covers us to our waists. 
I study you as you sleep, admiring your muscle tone. You started
working out again a few weeks ago, just after we became lovers. 
The middle-aged softness that was creeping up on you is disappearing. 
Your body has become hard again while your heart has softened,
enveloping me. 

I reach for the line of scars across your abdomen, gently touching
each one. Weeks ago you told me about being the only survivor when
your platoon was ambushed in Vietnam. I was quiet, sensing there
was more to the story. Finally, you told me about watching from above
as medics zipped you into a body bag, and about the old woman who
pulled you back from the light. I know how difficult it is for you to
believe. 

Lower on your abdomen, just barely covered by the blanket, is a
newer, uglier scar. I slide my fingers under the blanket and find
it by touch. You've never talked about this one, but I know it has
something to do with Agent Scully. Don't ask me how I know. I
just do. Maybe it's your reluctance to talk about it. Maybe it's the
way you look at her. I know how you feel about Dana, and when I touch
this scar, I feel a rush of jealousy. I wonder whether you would
take a bullet for me the way you did for her.

"Hmm...Moni?" Your arm tightens around me.  "What time is it?"

"I'm sorry, Walter. I didn't mean to wake you."

"What are you doing?"

"Thinking."

"What are you thinking about?"

"You. Me. Us. The meaning of life."

You shift a little so you can meet my gaze. "The meaning of life? 
You like a challenge don't you?"

"Mmmm hmmmm." I slide my hand a little further under the blanket,
teasing. 

"What is it?" you ask in a sleepy voice. "The meaning of life?"

I smile. I can't seem to stop smiling since I met you. 

"La estrella de la maņana." 

Your look turns serious. Curious. Disbelieving. "The secret to
life is the morning star?"

I pull myself up on my elbow and look at you.  "I didn't know you
speak Spanish."

You shrug. "You grow up in Texas, you learn the basics."

Every day I learn something new about you. 

"I didn't know you grew up in Texas, either." I resettle against
your chest, processing this new information.

"Don't change the subject, Moni."

I think for a moment, wondering whether you're ready for this. 
Finally, I decide you are. "When I was twelve, my parents told me
I was adopted."

"You were adopted?" you ask with gentle curiosity. I feel your arm
tighten around me.

"I was angry at my parents for not telling me. At my birth mother,
for not wanting me. At the universe for being so damned unfair."

You're quiet, knowing instinctively that no words are necessary. I
feel you kiss the top of my head and a warm feeling surges through
me. 

"When I was fourteen, finding my birth mother became the most
important thing in the world to me. I ran away and crossed the
border into the United States, into Texas. I was going to go to
the hospital where I was born and demand to know who she was."

You huff a soft laugh. "You're lucky you didn't get caught," you
say.

"I did! Every time." I'm uncommonly aware of the strength of your
heart beat. "I had dual citizenry. I was no illegal alien they
could just ship south of the border. But I was a minor so they
called my parents anyway."

"My mother told me an old Mexican folktale about a woman taken from
her family by bandits and abandoned in the desert. The woman
wandered for weeks until, at last, exhausted, hungry, and thirsty,
she collapsed in the meager shade of a cactus and waited to die." 
I feel your arm tighten around my shoulder.

"Go on," you whisper.

"That night, the cactus talked to her."

"A talking cactus?" 

I suppress a giggle, but I can't help but smile. "Maybe she was
hallucinating," I admit. "Or maybe the cactus really did talk to
her. Anyway, the cactus told her to follow la estrella de la
maņana and it would lead her to those she loved. The next morning she
found the strength to follow the morning star until, eventually, she
found her family."

"That's a nice story," you say softly.

"I used to get up early every morning to look at the morning star. 
It's been my guiding light."

"Did it lead you to your birth mother?" 

"No," I say. I lift my head from your chest and look you in the
eye. "But it led me back to my adoptive parents, and it's led me
to you."

You are quiet a moment and I fear that I've revealed my feelings
too quickly. Then, pulling me to you, you whisper, "Gracias a Dios,
por la estrella de la maņana."

*end*