From: dryad@dazzleships.net   
      
   Continued from part 1:   
      
      
      
   "Sir, it's Dana Scully - "   
      
   Glen crouched down and dragged the baby carrier out of the understair   
   closet. "Hey kids, uh, what are their names again?"   
      
   Adam got on his knees and pointed first to the left, then the right.   
   "That's Sarah, and that's Amelia."   
      
   " – dammit, he was just here, in my house!"   
      
   "Hi, Amy," Glen whispered, smoothing soft chocolate-dark hair away from   
   her forehead. Amazingly, both babies had slept through the entire ordeal.   
      
   "Amelia," Adam corrected. "Amelia Grace. She's Sarah Elizabeth, and   
   that's Beatrice Anne, and I'm Adam."   
      
   " – Colorado – "   
      
   Colorado? He glanced over his shoulder to see Dana turn towards him.   
      
   "Yes, sir. I need to call the police," she said. Her eyebrows rose.   
   "Bureau forensics? I would appreciate that greatly, sir. I'll see you soon."   
      
   "What's your name?"   
      
   He turned back to Adam. "Glen. Glen Olsen. Don't you have a middle name   
   too?"   
      
   Adam shook his head.   
      
   "What, are you kidding?"   
      
   "Don't like it."   
      
   "Aw, come on," he pasted a pleasant look on his face and tapped the   
   boy's wrist. "Couldn't be that bad."   
      
   Beatrice peeped around her brother's shoulder. "'S Fox."   
      
   "Bea, shut up!"   
      
   "Fox?" Glen struggled to keep the smile off his lips. "Could be worse.   
   Mine's. . .Marion."   
      
   Adam looked highly sceptical. "Marion?"   
      
   "It's a girl's name," Glen explained. Actually, his middle name was   
   Bradford, but what was a little white lie in a situation like this? "At   
   least foxes are cool, smart."   
      
   "Glen, could I talk to you for a minute?"   
      
   Dana drew him away, blocking the view out of the door. Even though he   
   was used to it, her eyes were an even more startlingly bright blue above   
   the spatter of blood on her cheekbone. He tried to remove it with the   
   edge of his sleeve. "You knew that man."   
      
   "He was someone I...knew...in the Bureau."   
      
   "Not a friend."   
      
   She snorted lightly, drew away from his attempt to clean her face. "No."   
      
   He nodded. "So what now? What about the kids?"   
      
   "The police are on their way, as is my mother," she closed her eyes   
   briefly, and when she opened them again he knew he wasn't going to like   
   what she was about to tell him, even as she stepped around him. "Excuse   
   me, I've got to go pack."   
      
   "Pack?" he repeated dumbly, watching her crouch down in front of the   
   children.   
      
   "Listen, your mom wanted you to stay here for a little while, but I've   
   got to run out, so my mom is coming here to take care of you while I'm   
   away, okay?"   
      
   They both stared at her, no doubt shocked by the events of the night. As   
   he was, in truth.   
      
   Then Beatrice patted Dana on the cheek. "It's okay. Mommy said you   
   wouldn't let anybody hurt us, even if she never comes back."   
      
   Jesus H. Christ. Judging by the look Dana sent him over her shoulder,   
   the same thought was occurring to her, too.   
      
   While Dana went upstairs, he brought the children into the kitchen and   
   gave them milk and cookies, made them use the toilet. They were terribly   
   quiet. Afterwards, he settled them on the long couch in the living room   
   under the throw, watched them fall asleep. Through a gap in the window   
   curtains he saw flashing blue lights and headed towards the front door   
   even as Dana thudded down the stairs.   
      
   She had changed into all black and washed her face, carried a black   
   overnight bag in one hand. Without sparing him a glance she whipped open   
   the front door and charged out into the night. Glen followed, making   
   sure to close the living room door after himself. He had enough of   
   crying children in his regular job, he didn't want to hear them in his   
   house again tonight if he could help it.   
      
   There were three squad cars, a black van that read MEDICAL EXAMINER on   
   the side, and a couple of other government-issue looking cars. Photos   
   were being taken of the body – Jesus, half her head was missing – and   
   people wearing navy jackets with the letters FBI in bright yellow on the   
   back were slowly and carefully crossing the lawn with flashlights,   
   intent on finding something, maybe a bullet casing or a footprint.   
      
   "Agent Scully!"   
      
   Glen turned towards the call, saw a bald, broad-shouldered man with   
   glasses, wearing a dark trenchcoat walking rapidly towards Dana. Not   
   wanting to be left out of the loop, he hurried after her.   
      
   "Sir, thank you," Dana said, stopping just short of the sidewalk.   
      
   Glen stepped up to Dana and slung his arm around her shoulder. Even   
   though she worked as a coroner for the local morgue, she'd been out of   
   the field for a long time and he felt he needed to support her in the   
   face of this...what, he couldn't call it a disaster, exactly. A tragedy,   
   maybe? A random act of violence? So he was a little surprised when she   
   twitched his arm off, stepping closer to the bald man instead. He was   
   big, not in height, necessarily, so much as in muscle. With all that had   
   gone on - the dead body on the lawn, that man breaking in to his house,   
   the childen and babies, babies! - ordinarily he wouldn't have felt   
   threatened, but with Dana behaving so coldly towards him, he was   
   beginning to feel as if he just wasn't necessary, wasn't needed.   
      
   Especially when the bald man gave him the once over and found him   
   lacking. "Who are you?"   
      
   "Who the hell are you?" Glen retorted. Goddamn if he was going to let   
   anyone else push him around tonight.   
      
   Dana sharply said, "Glen. This is -"   
      
   "Director Skinner," Baldy finished. "Word came through this afternoon."   
      
   "Congratulations, sir. Uh, this is Glen Olsen."   
      
   Yeah, whatever. There were more important things to be concerned about.   
      
   After nodding at Glen, Skinner towered over Dana, but she didn't seem to   
   mind. She half turned, motioned towards the body. "Sir, it's Samantha   
   Mulder."   
      
   Startled, he jerked back, looked hard at the body, looked back at Dana.   
   "Are you sure?"   
      
   "Sir," she nodded, hesitated. "She said...she has children, sir. I've   
   called my mother and asked her to come and get them."   
      
   "You don't want DHS involved."   
      
   "No," Dana glanced down at her hands. "I owe him at least that much."   
      
   "Of course. Was it Krycek?"   
      
   "I don't know. I don't think so. He was waiting for me in the living   
   room, he wouldn't have had time to shoot and get inside otherwise."   
      
   Skinner looked like he'd tasted something bad but had to swallow it down   
   anyway.   
      
   "He told me to go to Colorado, and that I should bring you with me."   
      
   And just like that, Glen was forgotten. In retrospect he wasn't sure   
   he'd ever been remembered, but that feeling, that feeling when they both   
   glanced at him at the same time, and then simply walked away, still   
   talking...he felt a burning rage.   
      
   Fists clenched, he returned to the house, endured the endless, pointless   
   questions by the cops, by the FBI, by the gods-be-damned 'concerned'   
   neighbors who'd finally noticed something awry in the neighborhood.   
   Maggie arrived and took the children, delivering him of responsibility   
   he hadn't ever wanted. No doubt when Angela heard she'd be on his case   
   even more. He could hear her voice now, Glengy, how could you let those   
   precious children out of your sight?! And Glengy, if you'd take care of   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)