From: dryad@dazzleships.net   
      
   Disclaimer: Alas, alack, they are not mine. Yadda, yadda, yadda.   
      
   Title: A Deficit Disorder Of Heart   
   Author: Dryad   
   Rating: mytharc, AU, strong R, S/o, MSsomething   
   Spoilers: Terma, Tunguska   
   Archive: Ayuh.   
   Summary: There was a side to Dana he had never seen, that she had never   
   shown him, for her own unfathomable reasons. That feminine mystique   
   which had driven him first mad with lust, then with desire, and finally   
   with love. But now he wondered what it was she had been hiding, whether   
   or not he knew her, had ever known her.   
   Feedback: I like it. Look, it's a new email addy: dryad@dazzleships.net   
      
      
      
      
   Glen swirled the golden liquid in the snifter, staring into its warm   
   depths. He took a sip and wondered why the hell he put himself through   
   this. An explosive sigh sounded over the phone.   
      
   "I love you and I don't want to see you get hurt, Glennie."   
      
   "How can you say that? You hurt me, and her, every time we have this   
   discussion. Don't you think she would love getting to know you? I don't   
   see what your problem is with her," he said, setting the glass on the   
   bit of wooden riser outside of the balustrade. He eyed the runner, noted   
   how faded it was getting. Come to think of it, was it time to replace   
   all the carpeting? That beige wasn't holding up very well.   
      
   "Problem? Gee, I don't know. You've been living together for how long,   
   two years, with no kids to show for it yet."   
      
   "Angela, how many times do I have to tell you that I don't want children?"   
      
   "Glen, you don't know what you're missing!" she yelled.   
      
   He jerked the phone away from his ear while she continued on. When the   
   volume died down a bit he gingerly moved it back into place.   
      
   "Mom wants more than just two grandchildren, I know she does."   
      
   "Mom doesn't know a handbag from a handbasket," he replied bitterly,   
   reaching for the brandy. "You should be glad I can afford to keep her in   
   Serenity Lane. It's not cheap, y'know."   
      
   "You son-of-a-bitch," she hissed. "Who brings everyone home for   
   Christmas? Who's the one who goes to see Mom every week, every day?   
   Who's cleaning her goddamned house on weekends? Who, Glennie, who?"   
      
   He rolled his eyes and nodded along to the rhythm of her diatribe. Poor   
   Angela. The stress must be killing her.   
      
   "Mikey hardly gets to see me anymore, and the other day Drew ran to   
   Blanca when he got a boo-boo on his knee. Blanca, can you believe that?   
   Blanca!"   
      
   "And it’s so hard to find good help these days," he murmured. Baby-talk,   
   another excellent reason not to have children. The doorbell chimed and   
   he motioned for his sister to hurry up already, even though she couldn't   
   see him.   
      
   "I don't care for your tone of voice, Glen. I want to know when you're   
   coming to see our mother. And no, I don’t want you to bring her."   
      
   Another chime and Glen interrupted her spiel. "Look, I've got to go,   
   someone's at the door. I'll call you next week," Or when hell froze   
   over, whichever came first. He cut her off by dropping the handset back   
   into the cradle.   
      
   Rubbing the sore spots on either side of his nose where his glasses   
   rested, he silently trod down the hallway and opened the front door.   
   "Can I help you?"   
      
   The woman had long brown hair curling into ringlets, blue eyes   
   highlighted by dark purple crescents on pale skin, thin, bloodless lips   
   and a dimpled chin. She was nervous, constantly glancing over her   
   shoulder while she spoke. "Hi. I'm sorry to bother you so late, but I'm   
   looking for Dana Scully?"   
      
   "Glen? Who is it?" Dana came out of the living room, drying her hands on   
   a kitchen towel. She stopped and stared at the woman. "Samantha?"   
      
   The woman nodded, face screwing up in the beginning of what Glen's Aunt   
   Opal called 'The Ugly Cry'. "I'm sorry, I didn't know who else to turn   
   to – "   
      
   "It's all right," Dana slowly approached the stranger. "Why are you here?"   
      
   "I learned some things I didn't know before," the woman wrung her hands   
   together tightly, bit her lip. "I...there were other people involved. My   
   fa-, m-my s-stepfather...it's complicated."   
      
   "Your brother loved you very much," Dana said softly.   
      
   "I know," murmured the woman, her voice cracking. "I think I always knew."   
      
   Dana stepped back, but Glen could see both sympathy and anger warring on   
   her face. "What can I do for you?"   
      
   "I need your help," Samantha turned slightly. "It's okay, you can come   
   out now."   
      
   Glen blinked at the sight of two children, a dark-haired girl and a boy,   
   who appeared out of the darkness to the left of the door. They must have   
   been hiding in front of the bushes, out of the direct line of light   
   spilling out of the hallway. They struggled to lift a dual baby carrier   
   between them.   
      
   "Hurry up," Samantha grabbed the carrier, urging the two in the hallway   
   before her. "This is Adam, he's six, and Beatrice, she's four. These two   
   are Sarah and Amelia."   
      
   'These two' turned out to be the babies in the carrier. Glen hadn't had   
   much experience with babies, but they looked awfully tiny to him, little   
   pink bundles in a cradle of scuffed grey plastic.   
      
   Dana's face softened as she looked from the small girl to Samantha. "You   
   had an Aunt named Beatrice, your father's sister. She lived in Boston."   
      
   "Oh? I did?" Samantha's face screwed up again, but no tears fell. "I   
   just thought it was a pretty name."   
      
   She set the carrier down, knelt on one knee. She hugged the boy, then   
   the girl. "Remember what we talked about. Your Auntie Dana's going to   
   take care of you, okay? And don't go with any stranger who says they   
   know me. Do your homework, be good. I'll be back as soon as I can."   
      
   "Samantha?" Dana asked, a frown beginning to crease her forehead. "What   
   do you mean you'll be back?"   
      
   The other woman glanced up at her, and for the first time Glen   
   understood the meaning of the phrase "dead eyed". She stood, biting her   
   lower lip bloodless. "I have to go. You kids be good now, okay?"   
      
   "Wait, you can't just leave them here!" he protested as she walked out   
   the door. "Hey!"   
      
   Dana shot him an equally shocked glance before trotting after the woman.   
      
   Glen pushed Adam out of the way as the boy tried to follow his mother.   
   Damned kid was underfoot already and they'd only just met. There was an   
   odd noise, the hollow thud-crack the pumpkins used to make when he and   
   Andrew tossed them off the back of the truck onto the pavement, and then   
   Dana staggered back into the house, her eyes wide. Her white blouse was   
   stained with dark blood and wet gloop the color of vanilla pudding   
   across her chest and side. "Jesus Christ! Are you hurt? Dana, talk to me!"   
      
   "Get them under the stairs, now!" she yelled.   
      
   He hesitated, watching her slap her own back, look surprised, then   
   leaping for the telephone table, jerking the drawer out and scrabbling   
   through it for something.   
      
   "Glen!"   
      
   "Sorry," he muttered, quickly opening the understair door. The little   
   closet underneath was home to the vacuum and various other cleaning   
   equipement, with just enough space for two small children and a dual   
   baby carrier. He pulled out the vacuum, then put the carrier on the   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)