Title: Resuming
Author: Norma
Feedback: Of course, to NormaDesm1@aol.com
Category: MSR
Rating: PG
Spoilers: All the way up to Will's birth
Distribution: Sure, just let me know where so I can get excited about it. Disclaimer: Not mine

Summary: How do you resume an old relationship when so much has changed?

I have used dead bodies to climb out of a cave, stood in front of speeding vehicles, and sliced bodies that soured after their expiration date. I was a FBI agent, a doctor, and a daughter. More or less in that order.

Now, my badge is stored with my gun, which is in its case on a shelf. My autopsy travel kit is next to it, and all my work suits have been usurped by Liz Claiborne pants and sweaters.

I have coped with stalkers, murderers, and mutants; but when it comes to changing my son, I stall. He cries, no matter what. I read that babies cry when being changed because of the coldness of the air. I took to changing him while tenting a blanket over him with my head as the apex, but he still howled.

I am a mother now. And after that...a mother again. Every once in a while, I manage to be a daughter, and now and then I get to sign an old expense report, so I guess I am still an agent.

Will lets up a scream as I try to put a royal blue tee-shirt on him. We still have red shorts and tiny blue and white stripped socks to put on, and I don't think that I have the energy. It's the Fourth of July, I am actually dressing a child in red, white, and blue. Oh, if those boys at Quantico could only see me now.

"Are you torturing him again Scully?" Mulder shouts from the kitchen.

"I can't help it if he doesn't like being changed, I can't tote a naked child around." Mulder bounds into the bedroom a few minutes later, all to eager to hold Will now that he has finished crying. Not so fast there, Dadio, I think to myself. You may be his father, but to enjoy these fun parts of parenthood, you have to earn it.

And when I say earn, I don't particularly mean in a monetary way. If he wants a family, he has to start showing me his is around for more than just Baby's First Fourth festivities. Let's talk about dirty diapers and pediatricians, and progress from there.

I pick Will up from his changing stand, and pointedly turn away from Mulder as I grab the diaper bag. He looks put off, but optimistically picks up our lunch off the counter that he has packed himself, complete with wet naps for Will. I think he might be getting the idea.

I am all too excited to see my mother today, and I am ashamed to admit it is because she will hold her grandson, and I might be able to talk to Mulder as Scully, his partner. Not as Mommy, or Dana (which he tried once lately, it was too weird for both of us), or the ubiquitous female figure in his life.

Will, the greatest gift God has ever given me, complicates things a little when it comes to Mulder. When he is in my lap, Mulder becomes loopier than when he is on morphine. His eyes glaze, his head tilts, his hands hover. In another world, this man is also the love of my life, the father of my child.

Now, he has become equally ubiquitous to me. For years, my partner. For months, my lover. For trimesters, my missing half. Now, I don't know. I remember us waking up together for the first time. The awkwardness passing each subsequent time, until it seemed strange waking up without him. We were brand new for those few months.

Once he returned however, it was as if we didn't know how to start again. Our partnership was there, but despite the literally growing evidence to the contrary, our relationship was not. At first, he was too weak to event think about regaining the other dimension, then I became too pregnant. Now, it's just like old times. Everything but what we had those last few months. Old habits die hard and are safe and easy to fall back on. With the exception of a few tender kisses to commemorate a moment, things have been awfully chaste.

Mulder drives us to Mom's, so at least some things never change. Now, however, he has begun to open the door for me as I get in the car. He still has, and uses, the key to my apartment, and he is still my best friend. We still pick up each other's vibes, and I can still tell when something is about to happen. Which might explain why the forthcoming fireworks have nothing to do with my keyed-up emotions this fourth. We are on a precipitous, and we both know it.

Mom comes out the front door, arms outstretched. For me or for Will, I don't know. Mulder, the man who knocked up her daughter and took deadbeat dad to a new level with alien abduction, probably is not the intended recipient.

"Honey, you look wonderful! I am so glad that you came." I get the hug because of sheer proximity: I am closest to the curb. Mulder is releasing Will from the car seat, and proceeds to hand him over to Mom. Wise man.

"Look at my grandson, he gets a little bigger each time I see him. Thank you, Fox," she says as she takes Will from her arm. Mulder gets a brief smile and a pat on the arm. Mom is trying, and that is all I can ask for right now. It's not as if the abduction didn't change my relationship with Mulder, so it would be ironic if my mother could handle it better than I could.

"Everyone is in the back yard, you two go ahead back. I will take care of Will." Mom already has put the diaper bag on her arm, and has my son ensconced in the other. She motions for us to walk around the house as she starts to the front door.

The noise of the party reaches Mulder and I before we even get to the backyard. Someone has put the oldies station on, and sounds of couples laughing and chatting intermingle with the Temptations. I am reminded of summer dinners on our vinyl cushioned patio furniture, Bill tanned from lifeguarding, and me pale from summer reading. Charlie, neutral in so many ways, always had the rosy pink of a first tan all summer long. My life was so normal then.

Mulder unexpectedly grabs my hand, as if sensing my nostalgia of a status-quo childhood. I glance at him with the one raised eyebrow.

"Being that you are the mother of my child, I was thinking that a little hand-holding wouldn't be too much." He looks at me with a grin, but his brow is raised in a question. He is nervous about this small step back to "us."

"No, I guess it wouldn't." I fall in step next to him, squeeze his hand, and we walk into the party.

The End

Author's notes: Not much to say, hope you liked it. Wrote this to get my feet wet again, so I don't really think that it is a masterpiece, but would love some encouragement just the same...NormaDesm1@aol.com. Thanks for reading.

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