Serious: Part Six by Tara Throne

Title: Serious: Part 6
Author: Tara Throne
Disclaimer: I claim nothing. FOX suX. CC can't write (lately). M/S/K are his and 1013s but no one cares cause we're gonna use em how we want and there's too DAMN many of us to sue, so mlah.
Rating: PG
Summary: Mondo Mulder angst (mwa ha ha). It ends sadly, but be careful so your tears don't zap you when you're sending me your electronic response! ;-)
Spoliers: Nada. There's nothing worth spoiling anyway.
Note: Parts 1-5 very helpful. as346@chebucto.ns.ca is the ticket!
*short-lived sigh of relief* This is the end, although not the one I want, so consider it an alternate ending, k? I have research to do before writing the real ending, which I will be doing over my extended XMas break.

Scully couldn't see it, nor could Krycek, because they were laying together, each attempting to cover the other, on the couch in front of him.

He gritted his teeth as the thought ran through his mind and the moistured beads threatened to slide down over his features from their beginnings at his temples.

The scene in front of him failed to change, and he tightened the deadlock grip he held on his gun. His knuckles turned white with the applied force; his face contorted so that it no longer resembled him.

Why wasn't Scully making any sort of an attempt to stop him? She hadn't said a word, in either fear or comfort. She hadn't made any move except to cover the piece of garbage cowering behind her.

And so he waited, trembling, perspiring, and locked in position. He sucked in a breath violently, and opened his mouth to speak.

The voice that came out was not his. It was strangled, forced, and scarcely controlled.

She didn't move, save for a minor flinch when she heard the voice quite unlike his. She remained covering Krycek, eyes closed, fingers grasping the gold cross she always wore.

Krycek kicked his leg out slowly, like he was attempting to lift the petite Agent off of him. He raised his right arm above her body, hand open in a gesture of peace.

Mulder was becoming impatient and fought the urge to move her himself. He knew if he tried, however, that it would give her the chance to get his gun, and for sure she would. He made another attempt to control his voice, but it remained a growl.

Not trusting his body to handle a sudden move, Mulder slowly inched his way off of the chair until he was sure his legs could support his weight. Standing to his full height, he walked agonizingly slowly toward the couch.

Mulder knelt down as quickly as his legs would let him, a few inches out of arm's length of Scully. Closing his eyes momentarily, his chest began to heave with the strain of what he was about to do.

His mind could not convince him of that fact. He'd never, ever wanted it to come down to *this*. He didn't ever want to feel the need to threaten her, his loyal partner. The time had come.

Taking a deep breath, he threw his head back and stared at the ceiling for a few precious seconds, just to clear his mind, rid it of the horrible exhibit in front of him.

Closing his eyes tight, he raised the gun in front of him, just enough so that the rim of the barrell grazed Scully's forehead, cold and promising.

Her eyes flew open, sad and surprised all at once. They housed unshed tears, their usual brightness very much dulled. The cross dropped from between her numbed fingers, and her dry lips parted in a paltry attempt at speech.

The tears ran down her face onto the cushions below as he slid his fingers around the trigger.

Mulder was now crying as well, though he didn't notice as the salty water fell streaming from his eyes.

He didn't want this. If only she would get out of the way and let justice prevail!

Behind her, Krycek clamped his jaws together to keep his teeth from chattering. The muscles in his legs were twitching spasmodically, uncontrollably, in fear.

And it was then that his left shoulder, pinned below her, involuntarily jerked, pushing her forward.