Summary: Two women at a graveside. Monica Reyes/Marita Covarrubias (past K/Ma, but isn't there always in my stories?). The Truth spoilers. G.

This is a response to the femslash challenge and the "other woman at a
funeral." It's closer to 750 words than to 500, but since it's two
challenges for the price of one... A warning for character death is
appropriate.


Title: Through the Markers
Author: Vanzetti (vanzetti@populli.net)
Rating: G
Pairing: Monica Reyes/Marita Covarrubias (past K/Ma, but isn't there always
in my stories?)
Spoilers: The Truth
Archive: Harem and related archives
Thanks to Maidenjedi, first for the challenge and second for the beta.
Disclaimer: The whole X-Files shooting match belongs to other people. I
intend no copyright infringement.
Authors notes at end.
Summary: Two women at a graveside.



The smell of cordite was, Marita knew, an olfactory illusion. Night was
falling over the cemetery, the mourners and observers long gone. Row after
row of indistinguishable white markers faded into the distance, nothing to
announce, 'This man was special, this one, a hero.' They were all special;
as for the other, Marita didn't know.

She didn't know what she was doing here, either, at the grave of a man
whose death she wouldn't regret. She should have been the one to arrange
Walter Skinner's death. Barring that, she should at least be pleased by
it.

A familiar voice made her turn. "I know you always find things in the last
place you look, but this really was the last place I thought I'd find you.
Since you wouldn't go to the funeral, I mean. I thought..." Monica
trailed off. "Do you know you're crying?"

Marita touched her own cheek. "I am?"

Monica nodded. "It isn't about Walter, is it?"

"I wish I could be happy that he's dead."

"Did you love him? Alex Krycek, I mean."

"Maybe. I don't know. He was a horrible man and there were a thousand
things wrong between us, but there was no one else who would understand the
choices I'd made." She took the other woman's hand, hoping the gesture
would help against the pain her words had caused. "I know you want to
understand, Monica. But you..."

"Is he buried somewhere?"

She shook her head. "Cremated. To avoid any possibility of... well. I
scattered the ashes at three a.m. at the reflecting pool."

At that, Monica laughed aloud. "Marita! You do have a sense of humor!"

"I'll deny that allegation."

"Go ahead and try. I know the truth." She lifted herself up on her toes
and kissed Marita very lightly on the lips. "But I promise not to tell
anyone else." Marita stepped away. "What? You aren't worried about
kissing in a graveyard, are you?"

"No," Marita said. "No, it's... All my relationships have been based on
secrets."

"Oh." Monica was silent for a moment. "Well, I can tell John that you
have a sense of humor, but I don't know if he'll believe me. He's funny
that way. He may demand to see the evidence."

"Even with evidence, no one will believe you."

"You aren't as compassionless as you pretend to be."

"I am, you know."

"You agreed to give testimony."

"You won me over. You were so passionate."

Monica snorted. "I was desperate."

"You were the most vital thing I'd seen in a year. I couldn't resist you."

"You couldn't resist me? You absolutely amaze me, you know. To have
survived what you've survived. To even come here to Walter's grave."

"I should have killed him." Marita said abruptly.

Monica was silent for a moment. "Did you want to?" Marita shook her head,
and she looked relieved. "OK. Well, that's something."

"I don't understand you," Marita said. "That should bother me more than it
does."

"Maybe it's because you know that I wouldn't hurt you."

"So you don't care about Walter Skinner?"

"I care about you, Marita. I don't... well, like you said I don't
understand your choices. But you wouldn't hurt me. Not willingly. You
didn't even hurt Walter, and you didn't care about him." She paused. "Did
you?"

Marita managed a weak smile. "Not the way I care about you."

"Good. I know you're bi, but there are limits." She gave Marita a curious
look. "Do you ever laugh at anything?"

"Sometimes."

"I guess I need to try harder, then. Come on," she said, taking Marita's
hand and drawing her back through the gravestones. "Come home with me.
Maybe you won't feel so self-conscious about laughing when we aren't
surrounded by the dead."

Marita followed, letting Monica wrap an arm around her waist. "Aren't we
always, though?"

"The dead don't begrudge us love, Marita." She stopped at the edge of the
field and looked back at the rows of white markers. "They're always with
us. We carry them and they carry us. But we aren't bound by them, by
their hatreds and their desires."

"I wish I could believe that."

"You believe in aliens, but not in forgiveness."

"I've seen the aliens."

Monica turned back and smiled. "Skeptic."

Marita kissed her, lightly at first. "Thank you."

The second kiss was more serious. "For what?" Monica asked when she could
breathe.

"For coming to find me."

"Any time." Her easy assurance made something flicker in Marita's eyes;
Monica asked her no questions but drew them both further out of the
cemetery. "Let's go home, Marita."


End.

Please send feedback to vanzetti@populli.net

Author's notes. OK, I don't believe for a minute that Skinner was killed
at the end of The Truth, but there was Marita, and there was the grave, and
somehow the setup worked. There is another chunk from this same universe
to be found on my livejournal at:
http://www.livejournal.com/talkread.bml?journal=vaznetti&itemid=4687#cutid1

I was surprised by how well this couple worked. I may feel the need to
visit them again.