Façade Chapter 2: Part II, a x-files fanfic

A/N
Sorry, this took so long, but as all of you know, it is summer. So, the updates might be a little slower than usual. I'm also trying to take my time with this, because I don't want to mess up the story line or the writing itself. And I never want to disappoint any of you, so I hope that you will keep with me and enjoy.

Facade
Part II
Lady Sanna

Skinner turned the projector off and shoved his hands in his pockets, calmly stating one name. "Agent Dana Scully."

All heads turned towards the unsuspecting agent who was now turning red. Her eyes widened in disbelief and she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks from all the attention she was now getting. Even Mulder was shocked. She could hear some snicker and a few whispered somethings about Mr. and Mrs. Spooky.

"But, sir-" she started, but he cut her off before she could continue with a rational reason.

"I'm sorry, Agent Scully. I would have gladly chosen another, but it was not my decision to make. It was beyond my power," Skinner explained. He then turned to the rest of the agents and nodded. "You are all dismissed. And as for Agents Mulder and Scully, I'd like to see both of you in my office in a few minutes."

Scully stared at Skinner, shoulders slumped and her professional image stripped. She wondered why whoever made the decision picked, out of all the agents, her? There were plenty of other very, attractive female agents that were good candidates. This isn't even an X-File, she thought. With an exasperated sigh, she straightened her back and walked out of the room with Mulder following behind. She could tell his mind was wondering about the same things too, except for maybe the 'other very, attractive female agents.' Well, at least, she hoped not.

Once the meeting with Skinner began, both the agents were becoming increasingly uncomfortable as time moved on and information was laid out in more detail. They listened intently knowing that this was going to be a crucial case in which steps had to be taken with all precautions in mind.

"Scully, your role is, as you know, very important. They picked you based on your persuasiveness and ability to not become easily deceived. Those are key elements that we need to get this guy into thinking that you're both in love with each other."

That struck a chord with her. Pretending to be in love? It was cruel when she thought about it. Quickly, she stole a small glance at Mulder and saw that he was not entertained by the plan either. He sat against the back of his chair, his eyes looking straight at Skinner, and his head leaning against the fist of his hand, clearly unmotivated.

Skinner was still talking. "You will need to do everything in your power to gain his trust and hopefully, you'll be able to get some kind of confession out of him. Now, remember, you're dealing with a dangerous man and we'll be stationed somewhere close by just in case something happens. Is there anything else that you need to know?"

Mulder leaned forward. "Yeah, why were we assigned in the first place. I thought we only dealt with X-Files."

Skinner removed his glasses and lay them on his desk. "Like I said, Agent Mulder, it wasn't my decision to make."

X-FILES OFFICE
12:48 PM

Mulder was unusually quiet. The only time he did talk was when he asked Scully if she wanted coffee. She politely said no and resumed reading up on their prime suspect. There had to be something strange or something that stuck out that drove Gavinger to kill the four women that he was involved with. Flipping page after page provided no clue, but she kept on looking anyway.

When Mulder returned, he sat in his usual seat behind the desk. He had obviously thought long and hard about their new case, but was unsure of what to make of it. His partner was going out there without him as fresh meat for this guy, Gavinger, to pounce on. Mulder could see the whole thing play out. They would meet, he would be struck by her beauty, they would make conversation, she would give him her winning smile, and he would ask her out for coffee. Then, they would go out on a date...

"Mulder? Are you all right?" Scully broke the silence.

Her partner snapped back to reality. "Huh?"

She made a small nod towards his coffee cup.

He quirked an eyebrow and looked at his styrofoam cup and noticed that he was squeezing it a little more than he should. "Oh!"

She smirked and returned to reading up on her new "Soon-to-be-boyfriend." So far, all she knew was that Gavinger held a stable job as a business man, had a few minor debts, paid his taxes, and went out for an occasional drink. It wasn't anything unusual, just normal. She read further and noted that he was reportedly seen at a certain restaurant on Fridays. Scully made a mental note about the restaurant, knowing that she could use the information later.

Mulder sat his coffee next to him and leaned back in his chair, being careful not to tip it too far. "So, Scully, what do you think about Mr. Gavinger so far?

She stopped reading and flipped the file closed then looked up at him. "He's a regular joe, Mulder, and I can't find anything too incriminating against him. Even with his other identities, he seems like he pulled off a normal life, except for maybe having children. So, by that, I'm guessing he was only interested in something that his wives had."

"What, you mean like money?" Mulder then lowered his chin. "...Or boobs?"

Scully gave him the look.

He shrugged, giving her his innocent face.

She moved on, "Well, when we get to San Diego, I'm going to pull up his medical records and maybe we can find something there."

He nodded and after a few seconds of silence, he stood and started pacing the room while she returned to her researching. He just couldn't let her do this case. He was too overprotective over her and he didn't want to see her get hurt or worse, die. How was he supposed to protect her if he wasn't there in person beside her? A wave of 'what if's started flooding his mind and he became increasingly insecure about the whole thing. Actually, he had been insecure since the beginning.

He leaned against the edge of his desk, next to his partner, his arms crossed and his head hung low. "...Scully, I have a bad feeling about this one."

Her head snapped up and she looked up at him. "Mulder, you always have a bad feeling."

"I'm being serious here. I mean, the guy is a serial killer and for ten years, he has never been caught. He's a deceiver and by his profile, he's clearly unstable," he replied.

Scully shut the case file. "Well, so are the other guys that we chase. Only they usually are some sort of monster or mythical being."

Mulder's eyes instantly lit up.

"Not saying that they really are, scientifically," she added quickly.

He rolled his eyes and continued. "My point is, is that going undercover as bait is highly dangerous. I mean, what if he-" Mulder searched his mind. "I don't know. Say, that he knocks you out or slips something in your drink and you become unconscious and we can't get to you?"

"Mulder, that's not going to happen, I assure you. I can take care of myself," she said bluntly.

"I know that, Scully, but I'm just saying. ...I don't think I can go through another Agent Ritter situation again." He remembered well when Scully was shot and he wasn't there to help her. God, how that made him angry learning that her temporary partner failed to protect his own. "The last thing I want to see you in is back in that hospital bed."

A small sigh escaped her lips as she looked up at his eyes. She could instantly tell that he was deeply concerned and above all, worried about losing her. His usual alert, green eyes were now pleading with her to reject the case, but she knew that she couldn't.

Scully stood, keeping direct eye contact with him. "I can't turn this case over, Mulder. This is my job and besides, I have no choice. And not only is it my job, but I feel it's my obligation to take this case and close it before any more women get hurt."

He looked right back at her, then lowered his gaze back to the floor. She was right, he thought. She's always right. But there was also something else that was nagging him which was probably what propelled this conversation in the first place. He was just subconsciously hiding it with his rash reasoning.

Scully understood Mulder's body language and instantly knew what was going on in that head of his. She took his hand in hers and gently squeezed it, reassuring him, comforting him. He felt her warm touch against his skin and his body ached for more. His eyes traveled back up to hers. Just by looking straight into her eyes, they could communicate anything without saying a single word. This was what they both loved most about their relationship.

Without saying anything more, Scully leaned forward and pressed her lips against the top of his forehead, the place that was reserved only for her. He closed his eyes.

"Trust me, Mulder," she whispered.

With that said, she loosely wrapped her arms around his neck as he placed his arms around her tiny waist and rested his head against her chest. She ran a hand through his thick, brown hair and closed her eyes as well.

This was going to be a dangerous case, indeed.

SAN DIEGO, CA
6:24 PM

"So, tell me, Jack, how are you today?" the psychiatrist asked as he sat down in his plush chair opposite his patient.

Dr. Gil Strasser was Chris Gavinger's (now called, Jack Nolan) new psychiatrist. He had been seeing him for a year and progression was coming slowly, but nonetheless, there was improvement. Jack had always seen a shrink since he was ten years old because of his parents. He never liked it until he was old enough to see that he actually needed it. However, during his sessions, they mostly talked about normal, everyday concerns rather than his real reason for being there in the first place. That was always a difficult subject to bring up.

Lying back on the sofa he replied, "Good."

Dr. Strasser nodded, satisfied with the one-word answer. "Tell me what you did today."

He took a deep breath and began at the very beginning with waking up like he always did when the doctor asked the question. He then moved on to his job and the occasional brush with his coworkers and finally, going home. It was his usual routine, a normal, boring routine that he hated. Dr. Strasser scribbled on his notepad, chewed on the end of his pen, then scribbled some more. That always made him nervous, not knowing what exactly he was writing. Who knows what he did. Maybe he just drew pictures on that big, yellow notepad all day long.

The doctor looked back up and squinted his eyes, slightly. "Anything else that you would like to tell me about?"

Jack searched his thoughts for anything worth talking about for the rest of the time that he paid for. After a minute or two, he couldn't think of anything else, except for one recurring matter, but he quickly pushed it aside.

Dr. Strasser spoke up. "Jack, I have a feeling that you want to tell me something, but you're afraid. Is that true?"

Surprised, Jack stayed silent. He never had a psychiatrist actually read his mind before. In his mind, he was debating whether or not to open his mouth, but the other voice kept on telling him to say nothing and warned him if he even tried to say anything about it at all.

Strasser raised an eyebrow, took off his glasses, and sat forward. "Are you all right?"

Jack noticed that he was starting to sweat profusely. Tiny, water droplets started to form at the top of his head and effortlessly, slide down his face. His whole body started to shake and there was no way that he could control it. He desperately tried to say something, but another side took over.

"I will be leaving now, Dr. Strasser.." He mumbled something incoherent and stood, leaving the psychiatrist in confusion.

Before his patient reached the door he stopped him. "But, Jack, we're not done yet. We still have fifteen minutes to go. Please calm down and have a seat." He mentioned back to the leather sofa in front of him.

Nolan eyed him. "I have nothing else to say to you," he replied, calmly, and reached for the door knob.

"Jack, I know that you have a problem and we can talk about it. Please, sit down." His voice was even and he remained collected.

Nolan kept his back to him and his eyes downcast. "There is nothing that you can do. I will be leaving now." And with that, he left without saying another word.

The doctor shook his head and let out a sigh, scribbling down notes on his yellow notepad. He had seen this condition before, but he never got the chance to help those who were affected. They always left before getting proper treatment. He believed that fear was what drove them and fear was what now drove Jack Nolan.

9:50 PM

Jack slammed the door to his apartment shut and slid the dead bolt into place. His breathing was heavy and he tried to gain control over his mind. Running his fingers through his short hair, he quickly walked over to the kitchen and filled a glass with water. His hands were shaking as he gulped the cold liquid down. Finishing, he swiped his lips against his sleeve and went into his bedroom, collapsing onto his bed. He closed his eyes for a minute or two and rested.

"How many times have I told you never to do that again, Stephen?" a man shouted at him.

The man then raised a hand and hit him in the face. The little boy fell to the floor from the impact and started to cry immediately. The man was breathing hard from the exertion of punishing the child. Anger and frustration boiled inside of him, fueling his already heightened rage. He reached out to pull the small child up by the shirt and hit him again. And once again, the child fell to the hard, wooden floor, unconscious and tears still streaming down his cheeks.

Jack immediately sprang up from his bed in cold sweat and desperately tried to take in air. His breaths were shallow and he clutched at the pain in his chest. It haunted him day and night. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw it over and over again. He relived those moments every second that he slept. Tears started forming at the corners of his eyes. He was tired and he wanted to sleep, but he couldn't. He just couldn't.

He decided to take a shower, washing the day away and the scent of alcohol that lingered on his skin. Once done, he swung the towel around his shoulders and sat on his bed, his hands covering his face. While trying to remain in control, he opened his side drawer and took out four pictures, each one of them a picture of him and his previous loves. Tears started to form at the corners of his eyes. He just didn't understand why.

"Are you crying again?" Jack looked up at the mirror across from his bed. His lips moved, but it wasn't him who was speaking. "You wuss, you're lucky to have me around. Otherwise, you wouldn't last a day in this damn world."

He shut his eyes and took in a deep breath. "Leave me alone."

"I would, but hello! You're stuck in my body!" he retorted.

"Your body? Excuse me, this is my body!" Jack shouted. "And personally, I don't think you'd last a day either seeing what you control my body to do."

He rolled his eyes. "Hey, I have more fun that way. Don't tell me that you don't enjoy the chicks and booze!"

Jack glared at his reflection, his other personality. "No, no I don't enjoy it. I just don't see any good that comes out of it." He let out an exasperated sigh. "And besides, if I let you have girls, why won't you let me at least keep one, huh? Is that so much to ask?"

He sneered. "They were bitches. Why the hell would you want to keep them in the first place? Besides, they weren't good in bed at all," he laughed.

Jack raged. He hated his 'other'. He constantly argued with him and battled him all day long trying to keep control over his body. Every single day, he would be forced to commit an act so vile, that he felt that he had to viciously scrub his entire body. He wanted to just kill him, but that meant, killing himself as well.

TO BE CONTINUED