From: ssteiner@sbcglobal.net   
      
   Morning came too soon. I was alert the instant I heard the television go on,   
   cartoons.  Kids. Mulder's house and bed.  My neck hurt because I hadn't   
   taken off the prosthetic.  I put the sleeper bed away, took my medication   
   and had a shower. When I was finished, Mulder was in the kitchen putting out   
   cereal and milk. He offered me a cup of coffee then pointed me to the sugar   
   bowl. I didn't remember until that very second that that I used to take it   
   that way, coffee with sugar. I took a sip of the plain coffee; decided it   
   was fine the way it was. Julie and Scott commandeered their breakfast and   
   went to watch cartoons in the living room, but Mulder and I stayed in the   
   kitchen.  I grabbed a bowl and the cereal. "So, what now?"   
      
   He watched his coffee for a moment, and then looked up at me.  "The kids   
   want to go see Dana.  The police are expecting a report from us.  What are   
   we going to tell them?"   
      
   I paused with the spoon in mid-air. "As much of the truth as possible, I   
   guess."   
      
   "What's not possible?"   
      
   "I can't explain why I went to Democrat Hot Springs, or the sheer   
   coincidence of me picking him up and taking him back to the lake. Why we   
   didn't call his family."   
      
   "Yes, why was that?"   
      
   I swallowed my cornflakes and cleared my throat. "I've been thinking about   
   that.  I honestly didn't know until he was gone."   
      
   Mulder nodded.  "You didn't know he was only 12.  He didn't know about the   
   association between us."   
      
   "Yeah, all true, but aren't they going to want to know why I had a file on   
   you, and why it caused him to scare off cross country?"   
      
   "I might be able to pull a string here and there.  I have a theory.  You   
   want to hear it?"   
      
   "All right."   
      
   "William doesn't know.  Whoever this alter-ego is, that's the one taking   
   over, causing the blackouts, and doing these things," Mulder waved his hand   
   in a wide sweep, "he is the one that knows."   
      
   "Multiple Personality Disorder is a psychological misinterpretation of   
   psychosis and schizophrenia, Mulder." I had seen Will change before my very   
   eyes, and yet I still didn't want to believe, even though I had some   
   first-hand experience.   
      
   "In current medical theory, yes.  But he said these events didn't start   
   until the first missing time event.  I'm willing to think that perhaps there   
   really is another person inside him."   
      
   It was my turn to nod.  "And with his existing mental condition, they may   
   discount anything that might contradict whatever we say."   
      
   "Exactly."   
      
   With our story straight, I finally finished the measly bowl of cornflakes,   
   Mulder took Julie and Scott next door, and we went to the station. Mulder   
   wanted to get his fix in before Julie was subjected to questioning; her   
   testimony would only strengthen his case. True to his word, he got Conklin   
   to allow us to speak with Will for a few minutes before we gave our   
   statements.  He had an officer stay with us, ostensibly to ensure that we   
   weren't corroborating our stories, but little did he know that was exactly   
   what we were doing while we were talking.  Trying to decide if the MPD   
   Mulder suspected was real.  On the surface it was an innocuous conversation,   
   but it had intent.   
      
   Will seemed pathetically pleased to see us.  "Hi."   
      
   "You remember Mr. Mulder?"  I said it casually, but I wanted assuage any   
   doubts I had about to whom we were speaking. "Are you all right?  Are they   
   treating you okay?"   
      
   "Yes, they've got me in the medical tank with the old guys 'cause I came in   
   with medication."   
      
   "That's good.  I'd hate to see you in with the punks."   
      
   The boy smiled slightly at that.  "One of the guys in there with me taught   
   me to play chess this morning."   
      
   Mulder smiled wistfully; perhaps it was regret that he'd never had the   
   chance be a father to this boy, to teach him, to love him.   
      
   "The police let me call Mom and Dad.  They're driving over from Wyoming. I'm   
   really sorry, they're pretty old, it's hard for them as it is, and then all   
   of this, too."   
      
   "I'm sure they were worried about you."   
      
   "Mom, she sounded like she was going to cry. Al, I can't believe I never   
   called, to say I was okay."   
      
   I cleared my throat. "I should have called, made you call. If I'd known."   
      
   "I wasn't a prisoner, I could've done that, but." He paused and huffed a   
   sigh. "It just seemed, well-like I shouldn't. I'm sorry."   
      
   The door opened and John Conklin spoke from the doorway. "That's your ten.   
   Kent, I'd like a word with you."   
      
   We watched as the uniformed officer took Will away, and Mulder went with   
   him.  My statement included my car, and the fact that Will had stolen my gun   
   as well. I think that was the first time in my memory that I'd had to do   
   that, and I was sweating the validity of Al Kent's ID, and so much more. I   
   had told Mulder that if he wanted me to involve the police, I would do my   
   best, so now I had to make good on that promise.   
      
   The detective finished writing his notes on my statement and then asked me   
   to wait outside, while he talked to Mulder.  I sat in row of chairs and   
   cooled my heels watching the day-to-day business of a squad room. I mulled   
   over the conversation with Will; it was difficult to detect any signs that   
   would confirm our suspicions.  I should've let Mulder handle it. A half-hour   
   later, I was called back into the interrogation room-god, what an ugly word.   
      
   Detective Conklin was polite, and straightforward. Even though they could   
   see for themselves that it was possible for him to have hoodwinked me, I   
   still had committed a gross misdemeanor for harboring a runaway minor, but   
   because it had been committed in Missouri it was a matter of jurisdiction,   
   and it would be a few days before that was cleared up. On Mulder's   
   recommendation, they were going to contact the Missouri, Georgia and Wyoming   
   State Attorneys to have my case remanded to Washington; but in the meantime,   
   I was released, with Mulder's assurance that there wasn't a risk of flight.   
   How they bought that when we'd presumably just met, I don't know. Mulder   
   could always be very persuasive.  He wasn't quite persuasive enough to keep   
   his daughter from also being questioned, though.  They upshot was that they   
   wanted everyone involved there that evening. They would call when the   
   Vandekamps arrived.   
      
   Mulder took off to take the kids to visit Scully, and I stayed at the house.   
   I wasn't sure how to deal with her.  Everything I knew about her past   
   opinion of me could be summed up in three words, "Liar, Cheat, Murderer." I   
   don't think any of that had changed for her. Maybe slinking off to hide was   
   a better idea, after all. I had a car, or could get another clean,   
   untraceable one easily, and all my assets were in cash, except for the lake   
   house.  I loved it, but somehow the idea of letting it go wasn't as painful   
   as I had imagined.   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)