From: ssteiner@sbcglobal.net   
      
   It was a clear, crisp, autumn day, without a trace of clouds-a rarity for   
   the climate.  I drove to the Mulders', enjoying my freedom and the weather   
   as I drove.  I had the window down, and the radio tuned to an oldies station   
   with the volume high.  I could forget for a little while why I was there,   
   what we faced, if for just a few minutes.   
      
   Mulder and Dana seemed to be similarly affected by the weather.  Mulder   
   flirted, and Dana blushed at his remarks, laughing with him at his wry,   
   ribald humor.  It was evident that they were still very much in love, their   
   partnership firm; they had a bond of common purpose that went beyond the ken   
   of marriage.   
      
   Her laughter surprised me. I hadn't heard her laugh in our recent   
   acquaintance.  It was infectious, and along with the weather gave me   
   hope-she could laugh knowing what was to come, and been able to put behind   
   her Will's nasty treatment of her. Dana's capacity for forgiveness, or at   
   least second chances, still amazes me.   
      
   The Martin Center was a small facility in a rural section of the county.   
   The Catholic Community Services operated the Center; a charitable   
   organization incorporated separately from the Archdiocese, so the staff was   
   mainly secular volunteers and doctors, with a few exceptions.  The   
   administrator personally vetted all first time visitors.  We got visitor   
   badges at the front door and were escorted to her office.   
      
   The office was small and crowded with the four of us in there, Dana and I   
   taking the two chairs in front of the desk, and Mulder standing behind us.   
   The woman behind the desk was a petite, well-groomed woman of sixty, I   
   guessed.  She adjusted her glasses with the fingertips of both hands on the   
   temples, and introduced herself to me.   
      
   "I'm Joyce Matthews, the director for the Martin Center. Mr. and Mrs.   
   Mulder, good to see you."   
      
   I reached across the desk to shake her hand. "Al Kent, pleased to meet you."   
   She gave my hand a gentle squeeze.   
      
   "Mrs. Matthews, how is Will doing?" Dana asked.  The elderly woman glanced   
   at her and then Mulder, who both nodded.  "It's all right, Al is an old   
   colleague."   
      
   Joyce nodded her head, almost a small bow.  "Very well.  I think we've seen   
   the depths of his disturbance.  He's polite to the staff; but he can be very   
   mean to the other patients, and so they maintain their distance from him.   
   He appears to be cooperating with his therapist, but progress is slow.  This   
   is not unusual; sometimes it takes a while for the children to learn to   
   trust, that they are safe here, and to allow themselves to heal."   
      
   Mulder spoke up from behind Dana. I could see him in my peripheral vision   
   standing at the back of Dana's chair. "What's your personal opinion, Mrs.   
   Matthews?"   
      
   She leaned back in her chair, her body language effectively answering Mulder   
   's question.   
      
   Dana leaned forward, her voice soft as she caught the eye of the Director.   
   "Mrs. Matthews?"   
      
   She sighed, and sat up straight in her chair.  "My personal opinion has no   
   place in this discussion.  If you'd like to speak with his team, the doctor,   
   therapist, and so forth, I'm sure they'll be willing to have that   
   conversation. Now, Mr. Kent, why are you here to visit?"   
      
   "I got to know Will last summer, and I'm concerned about him."   
      
   "You're the one he stayed with when he ran away?"   
      
   "Uh, yes."   
      
   "I see.  You understand that he's a very disturbed child, and that he's here   
   for a reason?"   
      
   "I do, it's very important."   
      
   "You may visit, but please don't be offended, your visits will be supervised   
   at all times."   
      
   "I understand, and no, I won't be offended."   
      
   "Very well.  I'll allow Mr. and Mrs. Mulder to be your escort on this   
    visit." She stood and motioned to the door. "My assistant will take you to   
   him.  He should be finished with his morning session."   
      
   Mulder stepped towards the desk to shake her hand. "Thank you, Mrs.   
   Matthews. We appreciate everything you're doing for him."   
      
   "You're welcome, Mr. Mulder.  I just hope we can make a difference."   
      
   The walk to Will's room was short, and his door was open.  Our escort left   
   us after ascertaining that he was in the room but avoided any contact with   
   Will directly.   
      
   We entered the room, and William was on the bed, his arm crooked over his   
   eyes.  "Hey, Will."  I spoke softly.   
      
   He stood in a single fluid motion and flung himself at me. "Al!"  I hugged   
   him with my right arm around his shoulders; he was very nearly tall as me. I   
   caught Mulder's eye, and realized that they hadn't ever received a greeting   
   like this.   
      
   "It's good to see you, I missed you.  How are you doing?"   
      
   "Pretty good considering that I'm a nutcase locked up in Junior Jail."  He   
   shifted his glance to my companions and acknowledged them. "Mulder, Dana.   
   Thanks for coming, I appreciate it."  He looked uncomfortable, and   
   diffidently gave each of them a hug.  They looked faintly surprised.   
      
   "You want to go the lounge? There really isn't anywhere to sit around here."   
   The room was small, with the bed and desk taking up most of it.   
      
   Mulder put his hand on Will's shoulder, and then ruffled his hair   
   affectionately. "Sure, that sounds good. Lay on, Mac Duff."   
      
   Mrs. Matthews hadn't been kidding about Will's effect on entering a room.   
   The handful of other people in the room, small clusters of families, pairs   
   of patients relaxing, all suddenly remembered they had somewhere else to be.   
   Within five minutes of our arrival, we were alone in the room.   
      
   Will had a faint smirk on his face.  "I think my feelings should be hurt."   
   He sounded vaguely fatuous, and pleased with himself.  "But, I'm not. So,   
   the three Musketeers visit.  How goes the research?"   
      
   I was surprised at the suddenness of the bewildering transition, but Mulder   
   smoothly interjected before I could say anything. "Research, William?"   
      
   "Oh please, don't patronize me.  You all think I'm some kind of dangerous,   
   alien messiah, and you just don't quite know what to do with me.  All three   
   of you are or were professional investigators-what else would you do?"   
      
   Scully, the cool voice of reason.  "All right, William, so we're   
   investigating."   
      
   "There, was that so difficult? I'll give you a helping hand, and tell you   
   something. Right now, I don't know what's going to happen any more than you   
   do. I might later, I get these ideas, and I seem to have a parlor trick."   
   The flower arrangement on the table rose a foot in the air, and executed a   
   little jig, then dropped back down to the table.  Will's expression changed,   
   and he appeared to revert back to the over grown twelve year old that we'd   
   met in the bedroom, the boy that was familiar to me.  "Honestly-I don't   
   know, and it scares me."   
      
   I cleared my throat, and opened my mouth, but the words refused me on the   
   first try.  "Uhm, what do think we should do?"   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)