From as346@chebucto.ns.ca Thu Dec 26 10:16:06 1996 ---------- Forwarded message ---------- Date: Wed, 11 Dec 1996 12:38:47 -0400 From: Tara Leigh Thorne To: x-files-fanfic@chaos.taylored.com Subject: Serious (1/?) Okay, so this is my first attempt at fanfic. Be kind. A lot of 'Shippers won't like it, but OH WELL. Feedback appreciated at as346@chebucto.ns.ca Flames used to heat my home, situated smack dab in a Canadian winter. Disclaimer:The evil FOX network, the formerly brilliant Chris Carter and 1013 all own the fine-looking but aggravating Mulder, the underused and underappreciated Scully, the one-armed hottie and UberUrkel Pendrell. If I could steal them I would. I'm just a poor, unemployed student. That's it. Really. Rating:I don't really know all of them, so I'll let you be the judge. No sex, MSR or shake-your-finger language. I'd strongly support a PG. Summary:Scully has been having an affair of sorts. NOT with Mulder though, so 'Shippers flee in terror. Spoilers:Terma **************************************************************************** "Serious" By Tara Thorne Not even the geek could distract her today. As Agent Pendrell fell all over himself to open the door for her, Dana Scully strolled through it nonchalantly, forgoing her ususal pitiful look normally directed in the infatuated man's direction. Walking briskly to her car after throwing a quick wave over her shoulder at Pendrell, Scully was actually shaking. It took her awhile to unlock the car door, and once she did got in and sat momentarily, head down on the steering wheel, mind working rapidly. Muttering a prayer to someone for technology, she recounted the simple, minor event that had caused her growing excitement. ******************* She had returned from lunch that day preparing for the rest of the slow workday. Mulder was out of town, mysterious as ususal, and the lack of his presence left the room dark and humorless. As much as he grated on her sanity, Scully silently admitted she missed the big goof. As she was mulling over this revelation, Scully noticed the envelope icon on her computer terminal was lit up. This was a surprise to her because not many people had her email address and she had just talked to her mother the night before, so...? Clicking on it curiously, Scully's face changed from confused to awed to ecstatic. The four lines before her would mean little to anyone else, in the fact that they were simple and revealed nothing. But to Dana Scully, they meant the world. ******************** Back at her apartment, Scully couldn't sit still. For one thing, she was nervous. For another thing, she was worried about the easy access anyone had to her apartment at the moment. The buzzer system was down and a doorman unavailable, leaving the building's tenants to answer their doors personally, like the rest of the middle class world. Scully didn't want just anyone coming up here. Finally, right on time, 11:21pm, came the knock. Restraining herself from leaping off the couch, she walked as slowly and as coolly as she could to the door. It had been too long. From the moment she opened the door she knew something was wrong. His features, his beautiful face, were for once not bruised but instead scarred by unknown emotional stresses, ones Scully was sure wouldn't be easy to heal. He stood oddly, as if at any moment he could pass out and was fighting it for all he was worth. Silently, seriously, Scully took him into her arms and pulled him into the apartment and away from the world. The shades were drawn, the lights were dimmed, and time meant nothing. For this night, at least. He half collapsed on her, attempting valiantly not to unceremoniously drop his weight on her all at once. She stumbled a little and grunted with the effort it took to stand strong and support him. She gently pushed him onto the couch and sat down beside him, close but far enough away to look at him fully. Although he was obviously troubled, he nevertheless returned her adoring gaze, albeit momentarily. But this wasn't a loving relationship, not by any means, so adoring looks didn't mean much to either of them. Dreadfully sensing that she was more eager than he, he offered up words of encouragement, though he knew nothing would be happening tonight. "You look good," he said softly. "As usual." She smiled her thanks. "So do you, for once." Even he had to grin at that one. It was the truth, certainly, that he rarely arrived at one of these meeting *sans* injuries of some sort. Obvious injuries, anyway. And as fate would have it, at the moment she unconciously reached for his hand. Instinctively he jerked it back, placing it behind his body. He watched the smile fall from her face and he damned himself for being so hasty. She would understand, he was sure. Almost sure. Hell, she probably knew already. His mind mocked him as he regarded the stung face only inches away from his. "Alex..." Scully whispered, not knowing what to say. Unable to handle her eyes anymore, he stared at the floor and shook his head slowly. "Alex..." Scully repeated, a little louder. "Dana..." he replied. He drew in a breath to speak, but found no words to fill it with. He reminded himself that their relationship didn't rely on words, and that she could understand only through silence. And it was silently that he, still staring down, pulled his arm from behind his body and reached to her. He raised his head to meet her gaze just as their hands met. He could feel his stomach hit the floor as he saw her eyes widen. And all he felt were his stomach's actions, and nothing else. She, on the other hand, was feeling no flesh as she had expected. It was nothing but cold, hard, inflexible and inhuman plastic. Though she knew what it was, she glanced down anyway, just for reassurance. She bit her lip and wished she hadn't. It wasn't hideous, or scary, or disgusting or even that shocking to look at. It was just obviously *not* human. Scully opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by a short rap on the door. Before she could reply, Agent Mulder bounded into the apartment, takeout in hand. "Hey Scully, I'm back! I know you missed me a l-..." End Possibly Part 1 Worth continuing? Tell me at as346@chebucto.ns.ca ***************************************************** *"No one ever suspects the butterfly...mwa ha ha..."* * -Bart Simpson * ***************************************************** "I could eat my own head." -Wiley Wiggins Scully + Krychek forever! (Dream the impossible dream...) From as346@chebucto.ns.ca Thu Dec 26 10:16:19 1996 ---------- Forwarded message ---------- Date: Wed, 11 Dec 1996 20:49:42 -0400 From: Tara Leigh Thorne To: x-files-fanfic@chaos.taylored.com Subject: Serious (2/?) Thanks to the half dozen people who gave me positive responses. I'm hoping the rest of ya just haven't gotten around to it yet. :-) Disclaimer:the usual-evil Fox, CC, 1013, etc. all own Mulder, Scully and the fabulous one armed hottie. Rating:another PG, I would suspect. Still no MSR, sex or bad language. Very angst ridden from all angles. Summary:Unanswered questions. In typical Mulder fashion he reacts violently. Spoilers:Terma **************************************************************************** "Serious, Part 2" By Tara Thorne "...lot." Mulder finished the sentence quickly, his mind racing rapidly. Trying desperately to stay calm, he surveyed the situation. Okay. Scully, his partner, FBI Agent Scully, was sitting hand in hand on her own couch apparently of her own free will with Alex Krychek. Krychek, one of Mulder's arch-enemies. Krychek, the man responsible for the whole Russian experience. The chicken wire. The oil in his eyes. Wait. Something didn't look right. Mulder shifted his incredulous gaze. Scully. On the couch. Her own free will. Hand in hand with- Mulder's eyes went very wide as he realized Scully was *not* hand in hand with Krychek. More like hand in plastic. Malice and anger quickly took over. Now oblivious to the terrific fact that Krychek was disabled, and the other fact that Scully was obviously brain damaged, not to mention in the line of fire, he acted. Enraged, he lofted the entire box of Chinese takeout at Krychek. It was a paltry weapon, useless and harmless, but it would do until Mulder would kill him. Scully instinctively dropped and rolled onto the floor, her head knocking a leg of the table she had forgotten was close. With a small yelp of pain, she crawled stupidly under the table to the other side of the room, and watched helplessly, dreading the possible events. Krychek had not moved. He still sat in the same spot, his prothstetic arm the only thing on his body that had changed position. It lay off to the side of his body where Scully had flung it in her haste to get out of Mulder's path. There was rice everywhere. On the floor, on the table, on the furniture, and on Krychek, who remained still, his eyes locked on Mulder's. Mulder, meanwhile, had refrained from his usual rush 'n' pound methods when it came to Krychek. Still in a daze, ignoring his hysterical partner in the corner, he turned to face the traitor head on. At this point Krychek smartly stood up, arms at his sides, bearing no challenge. His face was contorted into a bevy of emotions, and he cast a brief, worried glance in Scully's direction. "Don't...look...at...her," Mulder growled. Krychek turned back to face the enraged Agent. He still silently pleaded peace, but his eyes had grown darker at the command. Scully, meanwhile, was seeing none of this. She sat against the wall, head in her hands. Her breath came rythmically, shortly, in time with the throbbing of her skull. She sobbed quietly, unsure of how to deal with this situation. She shook violently as she braced herself for the inevitable explosion. Mulder was stalking towards Krychek slowly, his steps heavy and loud. Scully cringed at every thump. Krychek remained staedy, his gaze unchanging. Flippantly and arrogantly he deliberately turned his head sharply and stared again at the dejected woman in the corner. He wanted to scream in frustration as he watched her attempt to convince herself that this wasn't happening. Just then, Krychek felt Mulder grab his hair and jerk his head around. The look Krychek returned was no longer unchallenging. It was one of defiance, anger, and a hatred that rivalled the man's before him. They stood eye-to-eye for a moment, each waiting for the other to make a move, any move. Mulder's eye flickered down for a moment and a malicious grin split his features. The tightness in Krychek's jaw slackened momentarily as remembered his handicap, and returned just as quickly when he saw the evil look on Mulder's face. He thought he might puch him, but decided against that. He would play defense, but only for Scully's sake. Mulder's eyes gleamed, and he was so close Krychek could smell the honey chicken on his breath. "Whaddya say we get you a matching one?" Mulder sneered, flicking Krychek's still-fuctioning arm. The spy jerked back and unconciously curled his fingers into a fist. That was the signal Fox Mulder was waiting for. He didn't even take the time to pull his arm back. One quick jab and Krychek stood before him bleeding profusely from the nose. Knowing the one armed man wouldn't fight back, Mulder taunted him by pushing on Krychek's shoulder. Little, irritating pokes that intended to set him off. It was the fake arm Mulder was hitting, therefore having little effect. Realizing this, he finally reared back and sent Krychek flying backwards onto the table with a strong right hook. Scully pushed herself onto her knees, torn by her very public loyalty to Mulder and her very private, unkown loyalty to the man sprawled upon her floor. The man known as traitor, as Ratboy. She knew she didn't love him, but something made her want to shelter him from her partner's growing rage. Mulder, satisfied as to the events up to that point, turned his fury on his partner, who remained frozen in the middle of the floor, her eyes darting spasmadically between the two men. It was minute, her action. A small move, a tiny shift of her weight, nothing more. But it was within that gesture that Mulder saw to which man his partner had intended to turn. "SCULLY!" Mulder screamed desperately. Startled, his exclamation caused her to involuntarily leap to her feet. Krychek, with difficulty, slowly pulled himself onto the couch, ignoring the rice on the cushions and the blood on his face. It was his turn to watch. He knew then that it was over. He didn't love her, surely, but just the same didn't want to let her go. The terrified glance she threw in his direction all but slapped him in the face with the reality that he would lose this battle of emotions. He felt his heart wrench from his chest as he watched Dana turn her tearful, pleading face to Fox Mulder. And then, something extraordinary happened. END PART 2 Looking for feedback, flames and all, at as346@chebucto.ns.ca *mwa ha ha* "It was the butterfly I tell ya, the butterfly!" Scully + Krychek forever! "And the traitor shall meet the skeptic and it shall be love..." From as346@chebucto.ns.ca Thu Dec 26 10:16:30 1996 ---------- Forwarded message ---------- Date: Thu, 12 Dec 1996 16:02:30 -0400 From: Tara Leigh Thorne To: x-files-fanfic@chaos.taylored.com Subject: Serious (3/?) Okay, up with number 3. Thank you to all who mocked me, I realize there is no H in Krycek. I wrote this in the library at school this morning when I was supposed to be studying for Law so feedback is important, meaning did I waste my time for nothin? :-) Flames will be used to melt the marshmellows in my hot chocolate. as346@chebucto.ns.ca Disclaimer:We all know who they belong to. I'm just a stressed out student attempting to gain some experience from this. Rating:Still PG. Lotsa Mulder angst (mwa ha ha...). Still no sex or bad language. Summary:The musings of Fox Mulder. Spoilers:Terma Note:It is essential to have read the first two parts. Work with me here. **************************************************************************** "Serious Part 3" By Tara Thorne Fox Mulder couldn't believe it. He stood, dumbfounded, in the middle of Dana Scully's apartment. He reached absentmindedly behind him for something to lean on, but found nothing. And so he stood. He felt as if at any moment he could fall over, and his strong legs were doing little to prevent it. The room was spinning, its objects blurring, but with one exception. No, make that two exceptions. He groaned silently in his stupor. His mouth was becoming increasingly dry, and he realized that it was probably because it was hanging open in shock. He pulled his jaws together slowly, afraid that if he moved too fast he might pass out. He absolutely couldn't believe it. He shook his head to clear hs mind, but succeeded only in making his head spin. Faster. This was not right. This was not happening. He almost grinned, in spite of himself, at his mind's hasty declaration. He was sure it wasn't the Apocalypse. This was one of the biggest Scully-related shocks of his life. Possibly The Big One. But, he reminded himself, it wasn't happening. Resisting the melodramatic urge to drop to his knees and scream like a desperate fool, he instead decided to sit down. Slowly, he shuffled his feet backwards, taking little baby steps, until a chair came into his view. He was staring straight ahead, and hadn't blinked for awhile. That would be good. If both his mouth AND his eyes dried up, nothing would get accomplished. Because now he had a decision to make. He was ashamed as soon as the thought entered his mind. He could never kill Scully. He agreed with *that* thought. He decided, however, to put it at the back of his mind until he knew the story. And then he would kill one of them. And so he sat. He sat stiffly, sputtering and shaking. He blinked again, hoping that he was dreaming, or disillusioned perhaps. At any rate, his mind would be at ease for a fracton of a second. It didn't last long, as fractions of seconds rarely do. When he opened his eyes and again saw the horrible situation before him. He again felt the stab of betrayal. He again wondered what the hell was happening. Finally, after agonizing minutes of looking like an idiot, he attempted to speak. Looking her full in the face, he opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Her eyes made him lose it. For all the reasons he had to hate her right now, for all the times he had wanted to do it now. Not ever. For in those ice blue eyes of hers - -she bore no malice. Her mouth was pulled taut and her face showed no emotion, but her eyes gave her away. Mulder doubted she was attempting to hide anything anyway. The haze her eyes had taken on was a sea of emotions, nameless and not. She was obviously tortured, upset and oddly grief-stricken, but Mulder thought he saw a flicker of something different. Happiness? Relief? Trust? Love? Even his mind couldn't comprehend that. It was too unthinkable, too unbearable. His dumbfounded gaze returned as he mulled over this possibility. And the look she flashed back at him said that, indeed, love *was* a possibility. His eyes were questioning; he couldn't find his voice. She nodded ever so slightly. The prothstetic hand closed over hers. Silently, slowly, and calmly, Mulder reached inside his jacket. Scully's eyes went wide and she threw herself in front of Krycek. Mulder's two handed hold on his gun wavered momentarily. He gritted his teeth and searched for an exposed part of Krycek's body. Locking his deadly gaze on the spy's ribcage, he aimed. END PART 3 K, so that's it. If you want I'll write more but my lack of response is really making me feel unwanted. :( Flames 'n' all: as346@chebucto.ns.ca Tara <:} "And the traitor shall meet the skeptic and it shall be love..." Scully and Krychek forever! From as346@chebucto.ns.ca Thu Dec 26 10:16:46 1996 ---------- Forwarded message ---------- Date: Sat, 14 Dec 1996 11:42:50 -0400 From: Tara Leigh Thorne To: x-files-fanfic@chaos.taylored.com Subject: Serious (4/?) I guess whining does get you somewhere. Thanks to my flippant griping at the end of Serious 3, people have been extremely nice about sending me responses. Although, I read over Serious 3 and am surprised no one screeched at me for the glaring typos and one VERY confusing sentence that I took parts of, rather than the whole thing, in the transfer from paper to technology. :-) Anyway, like you all need to read this crap, I know there are probably dozens of other better stories you could be reading... Disclaimer:Well, let's see...the evil FOX Network, who seems to have a pay equity problem, Chris Carter, who seems to have writer's block, and 1013, who I know nothing about, all own the Agents and the one armed hottie, and if anyone else refers to him as Ratboy in their responses to me, you'll be able to hear my scream echo throughout cyberspace!!! Anyway, they're not mine. Who knew? Summary:The musings of Dana Scully. Very little angst on her part. Odd, really. Rating:My friend, the PG. Spoilers:Terma Note:The first three are essential. If you missed them or put a big ol D beside them without reading first, I'll forward them to ya as my way of saying, "Thanks for nothing, but Merry Christmas." :-) Flames 'n' all at as346@chebucto.ns.ca On with it already. **************************************************************************** "Serious Part 4" By Tara Thorne Dana Scully couldn't believe it. It was absolutely astonishing. She was being forced to make a choice, and only *one* option had popped in her head. This was highly unlike her, being a doctor and all, not looking at *all* of the alternatives. There were only two in this case, maybe three (she could always jump out the window), but still. As soon as Mulder had screamed at her she knew she'd have to make a decision, but the one she did make surprised her the most. Even more than it surprised Mulder, and Mulder was a smug man. Speaking of Mulder- She looked around her apartment, surveying the damage. It could be worse. It *had* been worse. Ah, it's only wood, Scully surmised. Besides, she'd been wanting a new one anyway. It was odd, how with great ease, during one of the most critical moments of her life, she was thinking about furniture. And rice. She had been upset up until Mulder screamed at her. She'd been so afraid what could've happened, damning her landlord for being too cheap to hire a temporary doorman, wondering if she'd still have a job the next day. Or a heartbeat, the way Mulder was looking. But if he hadn't screamed her name things could have went differently. They probably would have, in all honesty. The way he screamed at her though, it was like a possessive male domineering tone, a challenge even. She'd taken too much of his crap to tolerate *that*. And so she had acted. Possibly out of arrogance, possibly out of love. She mused about this possibility as she walked calmly past the splintered table in the general direction of the couch. Brushing a few kernels out of her way, she sat down beside Alex. The look on Mulder's face was a tortured one, and she was ashamed to admit that she found it extremely satisfying. She knew she had hurt him, badly, but he didn't understand. No one did. Or could. Alex was leaning on er slightly, and she glanced down and gave him a hopeful smile. He hadn't said anything since Mulder had blasted through the apartment and punched him, eventually. She wanted to know *his* feelings about the whole thing, but decided that now was probably not a good time to ask. The plastic hand brushed her arm, and she resisted the urge to shudder. She added that to her mental list of things to discuss with Alex after Mr.Man left. Speaking of Mulder, he had stumbled around until he found himself a seat and was staring at her intently. She wanted to scream at him, for wrecking her night, for punching Alex (repeatedly), and for pitching rice all over her apartment. She was beginning to become upset again, because she knew that Mulder was the most hurt she'd ever seen him. And it was her fault. All her fault. His eyes had locked on hers, and he opened his mouth to speak. Nothing came out. He couldn't have said it clearer if he had voiced it. But he didn't need to, his eyes spoke for him. She wanted to reassure him. She wanted to explain. She wanted to take away the hurt, and the seemingly endless pain she was causing him. But something malicious and evil took over her, and Alex must have sensed it, because just then he took her hand in his. Though her very being screamed at her *not* to do it, and oh how she hated herself for doing it, Scully nodded ever so slightly. Mulder was dumbfounded and Scully's heart ached as she watched the hope die in his eyes. He slowly reached into his coat, which had never made it to the rack, keeping his intense gaze consistent. Scully's eyes grew wide as she realized Mulder was reaching for his gun, and she flung herself to cover a confused Alex. Mulder grunted in annoyance at her interference, but she didn't care. He would hear the story first. Or she would die too. He did not put down his weapon, and Scully cringed when she heard the click that told her it was cocked. She closed her eyes as he aimed. END PART 4 Comments, comments, comments! It's Christmas, be nice to a poor little student and give her a post-exams/Christmas presents and send *ALL* responses even the hot ones, to as346@chebucto.ns.ca ************************************ *Hey Jupiter * *Nothing's been the same * *So are you gay, are you blue? * *Thought we both could use a friend* *To run to * * * *-Tori Amos * ************************************ Scully + Krycek forever! (Dream the impossible dream...) "And the traitor shall meet the skeptic and it shall be love..." "Meanwhile, I've quit the FBI and become a spokesperson for the AbRoller." -Scully, "Our Home" From as346@chebucto.ns.ca Thu Dec 26 10:16:58 1996 ---------- Forwarded message ---------- Date: Sat, 14 Dec 1996 19:46:13 -0400 From: Tara Leigh Thorne To: x-files-fanfic@chaos.taylored.com Subject: Serious (5/?) Ah, I love irritating people. To irritate them, that is, not actual irritating people. Anyway, any of you "Death to Ratboy" people are going to be unpleasantly surprised to learn Krycek does *not* get shot by Mulder, in fact I haven't decided yet. A lot of responses arrived in a cyber-glow of confusion...I love it...mwa ha ha... Disclaimer: Hmm. Fox, Chris, 1013...if they were really worried about copyright infringement we'd ALL be shut down. Summary:The musings of Alex Krycek. NO the story has not progressed any further than it did in Part 3. This is Part 5, and Part 3 was Mulder's musings, Part 4 Scully's, so logically ol Ratboy (I kid because I love) should get to have his side of the story. Really. Rating:PG-13. A little bit of language. Krycek has a potty mouth alright? Spoilers:Tunguska, Terma Note:Parts 1 thru 4 are a lovely addition to this one, interestingly numbered Part 5. **************************************************************************** "Serious Part 5" By Tara Thorne Alex Krycek sat up with difficulty. He was bleeding over everything, and he felt bad about that. But it was Mulder's fault. If the bastard would stop punching him all the time, he wouldn't keep making a mess everywhere. He had seen Dana get up as he was flying by, but was now unaware of her location. His head was spinning badly and he thought he felt a few splinters in his back from where the table had snapped. He didn't understand why Mulder always had to take it upon himself to right every situation he was in, when most often it had nothing to do with him. Most of the time. He heard Mulder scream Dana's name and he looked up quickly. Dana was standing to his right, and Mulder directly in front of him, thankfully about ten feet away. Krycek pondered this as he reached his arm behind him and slowly pulled himself up onto the rice-covered couch. Mobility was often difficult with this blasted thing, and now was no exception. Plus, he was sure he was about to pass out from loss of blood. He looked down and noticed his formerly crisp, white button-down was now stained red, and that upset him momentarily. He'd wanted to look good for her. The word echoed through his mind as he watched her tortured face and he knew she was facing the ultimate internal struggle as her eyes flitted between him and Mulder. He'd never had a "her" before two years ago, not anyone he'd considered anyway. In all honesty, he didn't have one now, and doubted he would have anything by the time *this* night ended. It always had to be so difficult. He often wished it were otherwise, that he didn't have so many enemies, that he wasn't always on the run, and that he didn't have to watch out for anything and everything. Had the circumstances been different at the moment, he would have laughed out loud at his own derogatory thought. Shit, he still had to explain it all to her, though he didn't expect to talk to her again, not the way this night was going. He closed his eyes, not wanting to watch as she turned to Mulder, that fool. Oh, how he hated that man. It was satisfying, this whole situation was. Even though Krycek knew he would lose her now, he *had* had her. For awhile, anyway. And it would be one of the greatest moments of his life when Mulder found out how long it *had* been. His eyes flickered open as he sunk down into the couch. Startled, he raised his head and was astonished to see Dana sitting beside him. She wasn't looking at him, her gaze was locked on Mulder, but she was beside *him*. She had chosen HIM! He was dumbfounded, but attempted not to show it as he remained sitting, nonchalantly and arrogantly. Mulder's face was incredulous as he backpedalled to find something to sit on. His eyes were hge and his mouth had dropped open slightly, making him look delightfully stupid. Krycek leaned over slightly, just enough to be touching Dana, who couldn't seem to take her eyes off of Mulder. His action infuriated the Agent, and Krycek smelled victory when Dana didn't move. Slowly and confidently Krycek reached over and out his "hand" on Dana's. Although confused about the wonderful turn of events, Krycek nonetheless expected Dana to jerk away, but all she did was glance down at him with a quick smile. A fake one though. Krycek closed his eyes again, enjoying the warmth of Dana's body. Regardless of what had just happened, he knew he wouldn't feel her heat much loner, and that saddened him. Nothing had ever been good in his life, and the one thing- His eyes flew open as he felt Dana fall on him. Had she passed out? He couldn't tell, because he had been leaning and now her back was in his face, blocking his view, although that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He struggled to push himself up but he was stuck in an odd position and she had him pinned down. He managed to raise up enough to peek over her waist. And he saw the barrel of the gun. END PART 5 *mwa ha ha* I AM FLAME RETARDENT!!! But you can try at: as346@chebucto.ns.ca Good comments too please. Scully + Krycek forever! "And the traitor shall meet the skeptic and it shall be love..." "Make it last, put this moment under glass" -Juliana Hatfield From as346@chebucto.ns.ca Thu Dec 26 10:17:09 1996 ---------- Forwarded message ---------- Date: Wed, 18 Dec 1996 23:25:12 -0400 From: Tara Leigh Thorne To: x-files-fanfic@chaos.taylored.com Subject: Serious 6/6A *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. 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! **************************************************************************** "Serious Part 6A" By Tara Thorne Fox Mulder was sweating. 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. He blinked once, twice, three times. 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. He inhaled deeply. He was waiting. 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. "Scully." 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. "Scully, move." Her features tightened but she did not look at him. "Now, Scully." 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. "Not you!" Mulder screamed, waving the gun for emphasis. The hand dropped and Krycek stilled. 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. "Move, Scully. Now!" No response. Nothing moved. "Scully-" his voice went up an octave, then erupted. "NOW!" Again she flinched. She would *not* look at him. 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. Scully's head jerked ever so slightly with every step. Behind her, Krycek fought to control his violently shaking body. 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. "Move." This time she looked at him. 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. "Fox..." she managed. 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! Her eyes told him she wasn't going to, leaving him to make a new decision. 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. A shot rang out. END "It's hard, so hard, it's tearing out my heart...it's hard letting you go..." -JBJ Okay, so as we say in my country, that's it/c'est ca. Questions? Comments? Bomb threats? All accepted at as346@chebucto.ns.ca Here's hoping for Happy Holidays for all! (What a thing to put after a story like this! :P) I AM FLAME RETARDENT!!!