A/N: This may disturb some people. It's one-shot, Rick-centric. When he's had enough, and he goes back into the school with the gun. What he may have been thinking, feeling. So if you feel uncomfortable after having read this, don't flame me. I've warned you about the content. Oh, yes. Parts like this (ex.): ((Something has to. something has to work.)) are meant to be that way. It represents a stop, kind of like - .

Warning: Rick-centric pertaining to shooting, disturbing themes

Heartbeat

He's holding on, holding it in his hand, and the pulsing in his head won't stop. Something has to. something has to work. Each step he takes brings him closer. Closer with every second, and there's still some paint in his hair. Why did he come back? Why?! He could just leave. And never ever come back. Prove them wrong, Rick, do it. But his feet move, one in front of the other, and then again. His hand itches, so he let's it be, but the feeling. it. it. it feel like it's still there, in his hand. Cold. Unwanted. He shakes his head.

The steps are warm concrete, though he can't feel it. He knows it's there. He stands. Alone. Real. Detested. He can't stop it. He wants to run. It all stops. in his head. No more thinking Rick. They'd do it to you. In a heartbeat. He walks, strides up the steps. into the school. The hallway is sparse for now. Doesn't matter. Jimmy's there. He's there, standing, with all his lies, his heartlessness, bleeding disgust. It's what he sees when he looks. There's nothing else.

"Jimmy."

And he says what he's thinking. The lies. all of them. crawling underneath the skin. need to be released. So he lifts it out of the bag, cold and heavy and unforgiving. He's shaken, right to the core. frozen. His hand is steady, though. Crazy. he's incredulous. It's aimed, just another second and. and. and. the blood. Jimmy is thrown back to the ground. Nothing. He feels. nothing. People screaming and running and he just stands there, staring. He feels it like it's not real. His hand is still steady. Walk tall, Rick. Down the hallway. Soft clicking of his dress shoes.

There's Emma, Sean, Toby. Sean who hated him, Emma who didn't want him, and Toby who didn't know him. Though he tried, he remembers, Toby tried. And he's okay, he really is. Doesn't matter. because he can't. Won't let himself feel it. He advances, gun steady in his grip. he moves. More things to be said before the deed is done. Why?! Fucking stop! But it's too late now.

"I've already shot someone..."

And Sean's hand is on the gun, pulling, pushing, gripping hard. Rick is animated. fighting. Suddenly, he seems so far away. It stops. and he lets it. lets the gun turn back. on himself. He can't stop it. Not now. Too late, Rick. You're done. Loud bang, like a firecracker. Firecracker. on hot, sticky summer days. In the park. friends near, all around. Funny, he thinks, that his last thought is so light. happy. finally. And he's gone.