Title: Dry Spells
Author: Jori

Summary: Mulder and Scully move forwards with their relationship and discover one of the true joys of parenthood.

December 11, 2001
FBI Headquarters
Washington, D.C.
2:45 p.m.

I hold the portrait in my hands, trying to comprehend the emotions it brings to the surface of my soul. This is the first family portrait I have been in since Samantha's disappearance. After that, it just never seemed right. Perhaps my mother just didn't want a recorded history of what went wrong. Maybe she hated the fact that I was the one who would be in the picture, not Samantha. I
never asked her why after that event, the only formal portraits ever taken were those cheap school pictures of me that are now losing all their color.

In this picture, I'm standing behind Scully, with my hand on her shoulder. She is seated and has Christopher in her arms.

We are a family and we are stating this fact with resounding joy to all the earth in the form of a holiday greeting card, complete with family picture.

I study the picture, enjoying all its implications and subtleties. My hand on her shoulder. Her body leaning ever so slightly into mine. It is an intimacy shared with the world now. The person we created, smiling as if he couldn't be happier with the world, declares it's true. We are together. We have been together.

Scully framed the portrait for me in sterling silver. She also framed a smaller mother and baby photograph that was done so softly they look like angels.

The most attention is given to the portrait I have of Christopher. Women who pass by my desk comment on it all the time. He looks so happy, they say.

He doesn't know yet of all the horrors in the world. He doesn't know what people would do to him just to get back at me.

The photos are in a prominent place on my desk for all to see. The mumbling and shady comments have stopped. We are no longer the hot topic of conversation around the water cooler. Very little is said about Mr. and Mrs. Spooky, and Spooky, Jr.

Occasionally, I hear a comment about how much money we wasted all those years on two hotel rooms and that we did it for the sake of appearances.

I certainly wish that were true. All those years without more than a mere touch and a glance here and there. Even now it has even been seven months since we made love.

We spend every night together in the same bed and I hold her tight, but she still says she isn't ready. I think it is me. She said once that we never really had a relationship in this way before Christopher. Now it is impossible to go back to that. There will never be a honeymoon period where we are free to screw on the kitchen table without interruption. There is definitely something to be said about waiting a while to have children. Considering he was never expected, how were we to know? Besides, it was the pregnancy that brought us together. We would be just partners again had she not gotten pregnant from that first encounter.

The phone rings and startles me out of my daydreams.

"Mulder," I answer.

"Mr. Mulder, this is Jayne Phillips from The Ashgrove Realtors. That property you were interested in...the four bedroom in Georgetown...I can show it to you this afternoon," the realtor says.

"That would be great. What time should I meet you there?" I ask.

"Will 4 p.m. fit into your schedule?"

"That will work I will meet you there at 4 p.m., Ms. Phillips," I say.

I hang up and try to call Scully. She's busy with a class, an assistant tells me. When did Scully get an assistant?

I've been looking for a house without her knowing about it. She doesn't seem to want to move in that direction, so I'm going to force the issue.

She doesn't know I sold my father's houses and the house in Quonochontaug, Rhode Island. I never wanted to sell either before, just in case Samantha came back. She needed to be able to find her home again. Now it is more important that I give Christopher a home than it is for me to hold on to the past. Life moves on. Children teach us that lesson. Although I cannot fully give up my
hopes for someday having her back, I need to give my child a future.

The houses sold in a matter of days, giving me enough money to buy a house without a mortgage and put away some money for
Christopher's education. Oxford is expensive, but this should help. Also, the house will be paid for in case something tragic ever happens to his mother and me. I want to give him a good start.

I'm also sure I will have enough money to get Scully the Christmas gift I want to give her. Two months salary, they say. I think we can manage that.

December 11, 2001
Georgetown Woman's Health Center
3:45 p.m.

Mulder is not answering his desk phone nor is he answering his cell phone. I forgot to let him know I have a doctor's appointment.

I've been waiting for the last half an hour. It is my regular gynecologist, Dr. Sarah Morton, and although I am appreciative of the care my high risk OB/GYN provided, I'm glad to be back to the doctor I've gone to for ages now. We knew each other in college and I trust her.

I need to find out why I am still so tired. Last time I was this tired I was two months pregnant. At least I know that is an impossibility this time. I have been back at work now for over a month. Although the schedule is not easy, it is hardly as grueling as field work. Yet, I'm exhausted everyday.

"Dana Scully?" a nurse calls.

"Coming," I say, as I gather my cell phone and handbag.

"You will be in exam room three. I'll be there in a minute to take your blood pressure."

"Thanks you," I say, going into the exam room by myself and sitting down in the patient chair.

While pregnant with Chris, I swore I had been picked and prodded at enough to last a lifetime, but here I am again.

The nurse comes back and takes my temperature and blood pressure. She then instructs me to put on a gown and place the paper blanket across my lap and she slips out of the room.

I undress, cover myself, and sit up on the table.

Sarah comes in after knocking gently at the door.

"Dana, how are you? How is the little one?"
"I'm just ok. He's doing wonderfully," I answer honestly.

"Why are you here? Annual exam?"

"That and I'm so tired still. It's not getting any better with time."

"Well, let's get the exam done with and then we can talk," she says, calling the nurse back into the room.

She proceeds with the exam and comments on how nice my c-section scar has healed. I cringe under her gentle prodding, but it doesn't compare to childbirth.

"Ok, Dana, everything looks fine so far. You can get dressed and I will be back in a minute" she says as she leaves with the nurse.

I put back on my black suit and Sarah comes back in the room just as I'm slipping into my shoes. She sits in her rolling chair by her little desk and I sit across from her.

"You seem to be physically fine, Dana. What else is wrong?"

"I'm just so tired."

"Dana, you have a baby and you have a challenging career. You deserve to be tired. Can you take some time off? Maybe get away with your... significant other... for the weekend?" she suggests.

My head just drops.

She picks up my chart again and flips through it.

"Has intercourse been a problem?" she asks.

"I wouldn't know," I answer truthfully.

"Listen, take your time. Your body has been turned inside out. You are still breast feeding, I see. Sometimes that can keep the libido pretty low," she says, offering me a small smile."Try to take a weekend away. Have a small glass of wine..."

I start to protest, but she stops me.

"It will be ok," she says, "if you pump a lot before hand to give the baby, or use formula for a few feedings. Take a hot bath. Relax. This happens to a lot of new parents. Besides, sex does you good. It makes you feel good about yourself again. You two need to get to know each other again."

Get to know each other again? We hardly knew each other like this before Christopher was born. How do we get something back we never had?

"Since you are still breast feeding, I would recommend a barrier form of birth control and lots of lubricant. Another little trick of breast feeding... it dries you out," she tell me. Now I'm the one offering the small smile. Great. That's romantic.

"Besides any of that, get some rest. Have him watch the baby when you get home so you can take a little nap. It might take you awhile to get back to normal, but you will get there. It took your body nine months to have a baby. It isn't going to go back to where it was overnight. You know that," she says sympathetically.

"Thanks for listening," I say to her.

"If things don't get any better, come back again."

"Okay, Sarah. It was nice seeing you again."

"You too, Dana," she says as she leaves the room.

I finish up at the front desk and head home.

I'm standing in front of this large, empty house and the realtor is telling me how beautiful the trees are in summer. It is a two story brick house that, with recent work, almost approaches being a Tudor style.

The house is beautiful and was fully remodeled within the last year. Everything in it is new. By next week, I'm sure it will be bugged up the ying yang just because I'm standing here looking at it.

The back yard is large compared to the lack of yard we've had for years now and is completely fenced in. Perfect for growing little boys. Plus the trees are apparently beautiful in the summer.

Ms. Jayne Phillips is now telling me about property taxes and school districts.

I look at her and say, "Wrap it up and put a bow on it. I'll take it."

She looks stunned.

"You don't want to confer with your wife on this?" she asks, looking at my hand for a ring.

"I'm not married," I say to her and she beams a big smile back at me. Whatever it takes to get this process going along faster.

"Well, Mr. Mulder, let's get out of the cold and go back to the office to take care of the financial side of all of this."

I have yet to tell her I'm paying outright for the house with no financing. I'm sure they will think I'm an FBI agent on the take instead of an FBI agent who's father got paid well for doing God knows what to all of humanity. I'm also sure the source of my unexpected windfall will be examined closely in the next few weeks. Nothing in my life goes unnoticed these days.

December 11, 2001
6:07 p.m.

I arrive at home to find my mother still there, busy doing something in the kitchen.

"Hi, Mom," I say, kissing her on the cheek, "Didn't Mulder get home yet?"

"No, Dana. He just called a few minutes ago and said he was tied up in some business but would be home soon. How was your doctor's appointment? Are you ok?" Mom asks.

"It went just fine. I'm fine. I'm just really tired, Mom."

"Why don't you go take a nap, sweetheart. Christopher is still down. I'll stay here until Fox gets home."

"Thank you, Mom. You are too good to me."

"Anything for my little girl. And for that grandson of mine."

"He is a keeper, isn't he?"

"That he is. Go get some rest before he gets up."

I look at Christopher sleeping like a little angel all snuggled up under his blankets. I change into more comfortable clothes, lie down on my bed. and fall asleep in a matter of minutes.

I wake up startled to discover it is dark and I have been asleep for over two hours. I sit bolt upright in a panic and jump out of bed to look in the cradle. He's not there.

I rush to the living room to find father and son sitting on the floor on quilts Mulder put down for them. Christopher is rolling around and reaching for the toys his dad set out for him.

Mulder looks up at me and smiles.

"Christopher, should we show Mommy what surprise we have for her?"

"Oh? What have you been doing out here? I hope not finger painting?" I ask, smiling at the thought.

"No, not yet. Maybe later. Here, look, Mom!"

Mulder puts the baby in a sitting position and an excited Christopher holds himself there for about fifteen seconds before slumping over and laughing.

"That's great!" I say, sitting down cross-legged next to them. The floor is colder than I expected. Mulder has on jeans and a black turtleneck, and I notice he put Chris in a blanket sleeper.

"I was going to light a fire, but it always distracts him too much. He always ends up rolling to the grate like a little moth," Mulder says, holding Christopher's face to his face and snuggling with him.

"That's ok. He's dressed warm enough."

"Do you feel any better? Your mom told me you went to the doctor," he says, sounding slightly irritated that I didn't tell him I had an appointment.

"I'm sorry. I forgot to tell you. I tried to call you but you didn't answer."

"I was out Christmas shopping," he says, looking away for me.

"Really?" I ask, surprised.

"Yes, really. Are you ok?"

"I'm fine. Just burned out. Thanks for letting me nap. You didn't feed him, did you?" I ask, my breasts getting heavy even as I talk about it.

"I made him a little cereal, most of which I ended up wearing and he didn't really want the bottle I made him. He wants his mommy."

I look into Mulder's eyes. Actually, I have two sets of the same eyes starting at me. It is strange sometimes.

"I want his mommy, too," Mulder says to me.

"Well, it would be highly inappropriate for us to do it on the living room floor in front of the child."

"I'll wait. I don't want to push you. I know you are tired."

"Thanks, Mulder."

"Besides, I have plans for you," he says in what has to be the sexiest tone I have ever heard him use. It is actually the first time I've been turned on in months.

"Scully?"

"Yeah?"

"You're getting wet."

I look at him, completely startled by what he is saying. He then points to my chest with its expanding wetness going across my shirt, and hands me my son to feed.

I spend the next half an hour nursing my son and getting him bathed and ready for bed. He is getting sleepy, so I take him out to Mulder to say goodnight. He is sitting at the kitchen table going over some reports that I'm sure are late.

"Say goodnight to Daddy," I tell Christopher. Mulder takes him in his arms and hugs and kisses him.

"Goodnight, buddy. Sweet dreams."

I love to watch them together. I love discovering this side of Mulder. There are moments when he gets absolutely frustrated with parenting, and then there are moments where he is so warm and tender, it brings tears to my eyes. This baby is helping to heal his wounds and teaching him what a family should be. This is hard to believe, considering how unconventional our family unit is.

I put Christopher down on his back in his cradle. His bed is getting far too small for him and I know I need to pick out a crib soon. Mulder keeps pushing at me to get a bigger place. I just don't know. I'm afraid to jinx everything, afraid to admit this is a family and we always will be. I am so scared of being happy, scared I will lose it all because I was too happy. I know God does not act in this way upon His creations, but it isn't God I am afraid of anymore.

Before I could take care of myself. I only had to protect myself and Mulder. Now it is so much more.

I look at my son as he falls asleep. Now that I know his new talents at sitting and pulling himself around, I'm glad Mulder picked the cradle with the high sides on it, but it won't be enough in a matter of weeks.

I say my preliminary goodnights to Chris, knowing I will be seeing him again for a midnight snack.

I shut the door so he can sleep and I go back to Mulder, who is huddled at the table. He looks a little run down. I know the last case he was on was miserable and he spent a lot of time on airplanes and in motels. Now he is hunched over reports, with his glasses on, and his hair tousled from raking his fingers through it. I used to do most of our paperwork but that is no longer my job. I have my own reports to file in triplicate.

I stand behind him and put my arms around him. He leans back into me. I can do this, I tell myself. I can get back to a deeper level of intimacy with this person. After all these years of knowing him, this can't be that hard. I can make love to this person again. I can do it.

I want to laugh at my thoughts. Look at him. I wonder how many women -- or even men -- have wanted him and he never even noticed them? Here I stand trying to convince myself I can do this, when I'm sure others would be more than willing. Yet, it is me he wants. It is me he waits for.

"Did you get dinner?" I ask him.

"Mom made dinner before she left."

I laugh. I didn't know he called my mother 'mom' and I wonder if he calls her that when they are alone together.

"She left something for you if you're hungry," he says, waving his hand in the direction of the stove.

"No, not for food."

His head springs up reflexively from all that paperwork. He pushes his chair back and in a split second he pulls me around and I'm straddling his lap.

His mouth covers mine and we are kissing like two teenagers. It's been so long and I've forgotten how good he tastes.

It was so cold in here until a second ago. Now there is a heat spreading through me and over to him.

I put my hands under his shirt, wanting desperately to touch him and feel his heartbeat. I look at him and I can see he's slightly apprehensive about touching my breasts, as if they belong to another 'man'.

Instead of saying anything, I slide off of him onto my knees in front of him. I undo his button-fly jeans with ease and he lifts his hips a little while I tug them and his boxers down to his ankles.

"Scully..." he says in that pleading tone he uses.

I slowly put my mouth near him, breathing ever so gently. My tongue draws a slow line up one side of his cock and a matching line down the other side. I dart my tongue around the tip of his penis, which is already wet. I want to tease him for awhile. I want this to go slow. Maybe he will be happy with this and we won't have to do more. No, Dana, stop thinking like that.

I draw him into my mouth and he puts his hands in my hair, but doesn't pull me in closer like some of my former lovers have done.

Rhythmically, I move my mouth over him and he's moaning my name. 'Scullyscullyscully' is all he says.

I look up at him and he looks like a desperate man; a man so close to the edge. He is biting his bottom lip and I had forgotten the power I have over him.

"Waahhh! Waaaaahhhh! Waaaahhh!"

We both stop moving, like deer stuck in the headlights of an oncoming car. I pull away from him.

"Please, Mulder, say that was you."

"No, you're good, but you haven't made me wail yet... tonight. You want me to go check on him?" he asks.

"With that?" I ask, pointing at his erection, "You will scar him for life. I'll go check."

I get off of my knees and sneak into the bedroom. He is still fussing, so I pick him up, rock him in my arms and sing to him. It takes me a half an hour to get him back to sleep.

I leave the room and find Mulder dressed and working on his reports again.

"I'm sorry," I say to him, apologetically.
"That's ok. I'll live."

"Want to try again?" I ask, licking my lips.

"Only if you want to," he answers, but I can tell the answer is really yes.

I sit up on the table next to him and take his glasses off of him. He stands up, knocks the chair over and places himself between my legs and we kiss again. I wrap my legs around him, all the while his tongue is exploring my mouth, and then my neck. We are grinding into each other through our clothes and he goes to unbutton his fly. My hands fumble around his and we manage to get his jeans and boxers down again. I am tugging at him with my hand, actually anxious for this to happen. He reaches for the waistband of the sweat pants I had changed in to, and he starts to slowly tug them down. Then I remember something important.

"Mulder...we need birth control, I, uh, didn't buy any condoms and I, hold on a second, don't want to get..."

"Wahhhhhh! Wahhhh! Wahh!" wails from the other room.

"There's our birth control. Oh, fuck!" he says, he says as he trips backwards over his own pants.

"You wish," I say, as I hop off the edge of the table and head off to check on my son again.

I think he is conspiring against his parents. Mulder would say it should be an X-file: how children can tell telepathically that their parents are trying to have sex.

I pick him up out of his cradle again and sit down on my bed to nurse him. Another half an hour and he's back to sleep again.

I go back to the living room to find Mulder asleep sitting on the couch. I wake him up and he reaches for me. I fumble around with his jeans again and he moans something incoherent.

"Don't you want to try again?" I ask him.

"No, that's ok. The baby needs his sleep."

I don't know whether he is talking about himself or Christopher, but I'm guessing he is referring to our son. He just holds me for a few minutes before he gets up and heads towards our bedroom for the night. Well, at least I tried. I know I can do at least that much.

The End