Meanwhile...

Reyes put down her book, "Finding your birth parents for morons," and looked out the window. The clouds were heavy in the mid-morning sky; it hinted at the likelihood of rain, or even snow. She found herself thinking about Mexico, her thoughts were always closer to that country after speaking to her parents. It wouldn't snow there.

During the call earlier in the week Maria Reyes had not told her how they'd come to adopt her, because it was a story her daughter already knew by heart. It had been Reyes' favorite bedtime story as a little girl. If she concentrated, even know she could hear her mother's comforting voice recounting the tale.

Maria had met and married Carlos when she was eighteen years old. That was a little young to marry even then, but not so young as it's considered to be these days. Like all young couples of the age, Maria and Carlos set out to provide their parents with grandchildren. They learned that this didn't come easy to all couples, as their third anniversary came and went with no change to the size of their family.

At first this was devastating to Maria, the hints her parents gave just making things worse, so she cried with each and every passing month. Eventually she began to get over it, at least accepting it anyway, and decided to put her energy towards helping others instead of mourning the baby that it was becoming increasingly obvious that she and Carlos would never have. With his encouragement, she began to volunteer at the local hospital.

Working through fate or coincidence, it was her volunteer position that lead her to the infant that would eventually become their only daughter. Maria cheerfully helped out doing whatever asked, but she would not help on the floor that held new mothers and their babies. It seemed to her that it would just make it harder to get on with her life, and the nurses respected her feelings after she explained her reason for avoiding the maternity ward. Which is why she initially said no to a request to give one of the babies a bottle for an over-taxed nurse.

But because she had a kind heart, she finally gave in when the nurse pleaded her case, "Maria please! The poor little thing needs to be held. I don't have the extra time to do that."

"Why doesn't her mother spend time with her?" Maria asked, not wanting to let on that she was already being swayed by the phrase 'poor little thing.'

"She doesn't have one." The nurse answered with a sad shrug. "Imagine being one day old and having no one in the world."

Maria sighed. "Bring me a bottle and the baby." She said, settling into a chair.

She'd expected to have been brought a baby that would look like her, at least in coloring, so she was shocked to be handed an infant with skin as white as snow. "Una Americana?" She asked as the nurse showed her how to hold the baby, not that she didn't already know how to from dealing with nieces and nephews.

"Probably. The mother signed away her rights to her and checked herself out of the hospital this morning. Never even asked to see the baby. Never said anything, actually, not even her name. Juana Doe."

Maria nodded, so engrossed in studying the baby as she took her bottle that she didn't notice when the nurse left. She thought the baby was beautiful. Her fair skin made a startling contrast to her hair, already as dark as Maria's own. When the nurse returned, she handed the baby back with reluctance.

"What's going to happen to her?"

The nurse shrugged again." I suppose she'll be put up for adoption like the mother asked. If she'd been an orphan, the hospital would look for relatives in the US, but she's not. She'll go into the system like all other babies given up. It's a shame though, sweet baby, but who'd want to raise a white child?"

Maria had nodded, but she'd gone right home to tell Carlos about the beautiful motherless baby. What came next was surprisingly easy. Perhaps shocked by the interest in the little Americana Blanca, or thrilled not to be saddled with the need to place the child, the adoption was unopposed by anyone official and went through swiftly.

The couple never met the mother, who signed papers through the agency she'd picked before leaving the hospital. Five-day-old Reyes went home with her new parents and didn't leave their home until going to college.

Reyes still loved the story even as an adult, but now retelling it to herself this time, she became aware of the holes. She didn't know her birth mother's name, nor did her parents. The only ones who could tell her were her birth mother herself, who wouldn't because she didn't know Reyes was looking, and the agency who would probably refuse. It had been a closed adoption.

When they were about to leave for the day, Mulder quietly asked Scully if she'd meet him at the car. Glancing over at Doggett, who'd been acting out of sorts since the meeting, she declared that she needed to use the little agents' room and excused herself.

Doggett, looking grim, seemed about to bolt when Mulder spoke up. "John, are you ok?"

He startled. Mulder rarely used first names. Shrugging he said, "I can't believe he's sending me away from Monica, now of all times...She's over five months, for god's sake. And twins rarely go to term." He fretted. Mulder gave him a sympathetic look. "You know how it is, not being there-"

"Well, in retrospect." Mulder smiled wryly. "I wasn't exactly in a position to know what I was missing during."

"But Skinner knew! He saw what it did to Scully, not having you there... I can't believe he'd turn around and put Reyes though the same thing."

Mulder scowled. "Someone's pulling his strings, Doggett. You can count on that." With that their conversation ended uneasily.