Pro. Escape.

Anger coursed through my veins along with fear as I ran and jumped the small three foot gap from the edge of one building to the roof of the next, not letting up momentum or speed until I was across the second roof and slithering down the drainpipe to land in a crouch at the back of a side street.

I was breathing heavily. I hadn't thought that I was going to be running anytime soon and then having been practically thrown through an open window and yelled at to run my ass off, I had done just that. I had taken off as fast as I could and as I had been taught I didn't look back. I hadn't stopped, not until now, and until now I hadn't let up pace.

I had to be a good three blocks away from the building I had just fled. My breath caught in my throat as I surveyed the alleyway that I had landed in, concealed by the shadows because of the dark black of my fitted flared jeans, black combat boots and form fitted long sleeved t-shirt, still in my customary black.

I gave color up a long time ago.

There was no sound of pursuit, no indication that they even knew I had been there. It seemed to me that he had been too quick in getting me out for a person with him to even have been noticed. But that didn't stop my nerve endings from tingling or my ears trying to pick out the smallest sound that shouldn't be there. This kind of stuff made me feel like I was a kid again, quick and clever enough to know what noise meant danger.

There was no one out there, nothing besides the cars that passed the entrance of the street. No one, it seemed, was even looking for me, they were too caught up in what great luck they had had, catching one of the universes most feared convicts. I, I began to realise, was of little consequence to them now, if they had ever been aware of me in the first place.

I stood up, slowly letting my body straighten out till I was standing at my full five foot seven inch height, confidence in my stance that was a force of habit rather then the way that I was actually feeling at that moment. I was hurting all over, not just my muscles but something inside too.

I was alone again.

The realisation hit me as I cast aside the black baseball hat that had been on my head, running my fingers quickly through my bobbed and styled hair, making sure that the long fringe lay right at the front, nearly obscuring my whole left eye from sight before I untied the sleeves of my zip-up hooded sweatshirt, that I had tied around my waist before the alarm had been tripped, not by us may I add, and threaded my arms through it, zipping it up firmly as I walked out of the alley as if I had taken a wrong turn. My arms wrapped themselves around my torso, I was feeling vulnerable, through to the world I would just have looked like another person affected by the chill in the air.

I was a good actress.

Two armoured squad cars zipped past me and the crowd around me suddenly surged forward as I backtracked with them to the entrance of the building I had just escaped, alone. There was a line of policemen already keeping the crowds back as I pushed my way to the front, confident that they didn't even know that he had an accomplice. He would never tell them.

I felt sick.

But I faked a look of neutral curiosity and looked the nearest policemen dead in the face. "'s going on?" I asked him looking around at the mob that was looking at the entrance of the building expectantly. God, how I felt sick, I knew exactly what was going on, who they were waiting for and it made me feel sick.

I had gotten away.

He hadn't.

"They've caught Richard B. Riddick." The officer answered me with a cocky as shit grin and I managed a small nod before turning my eyes back on the large glass double doors that we had merely looked at before hitting the back entrance. I wanted to hit him so hard that that smug look on his face disappeared but I didn't, I just turned away.

How did it all go so wrong?

The crowd was restless, standing there waiting to catch a glimpse of a famed killer and yet they were afraid. It didn't matter that there had to have been more then twenty of them, a number that was quickly growing as word spread on the street, that they had Riddick in cuffs once more. I wanted to be sick and then cry my heart out but I did neither, I just took a couple of steps back so I was in about the third row of the crowd and made my way over, so I was standing near the squad car that I was sure from the armed guard that he would be taken away in.

I would make sure that he saw me. Make sure that he knew that I was safe; he hadn't got himself caught for no reason.

Those glass doors swung open and a hush fell on the crowd as two heavily armed officers walked out of the door, followed by another holding a long length of silvery chain that was attached to a collar made of metal that they had put around his neck. Already he had a bit in his mouth and he had been robbed of the protection of his goggles, his silver eyes looking at the crowd and stopping on me when he saw me.

A tear dripped down one of my cheeks.

His arms were fastened securely behind his back, his wrists cuffed so close together that I knew with how broad his shoulders were that they would start to ache sooner rather then later. The cuffs on his wrists were connected by a length of chain to cuffs around his ankles that made him walk with a short choppy stride rather then the long, fluid, predatory movement that I was so used to seeing.

Another tear fell as a man near me jeered.

He held my eye, worry and accusation written in them. Accusation, of what? Because I got away and he didn't? A flair of anger and guilt hit me at the same time, making me freeze completely. I'm sorry! I mouthed and he managed a small shake of his head that didn't make his captors suspicious and made sure that I knew it didn't matter if I was sorry or not, he wasn't mad at me for doing exactly what I was told by running. He was trying to tell me something else and what it was he was trying to say hit me like a ton of bricks.

He didn't want me there, there was still a threat to me and I was ignoring it completely. That and I don't think he ever wanted me to see him like that, tied up like an animal. Not again. Not after all we had been through together. But for that same reason I couldn't bring myself to leave him.

I knew I should move at that moment, shrug my shoulders and say to someone near me, 'Doesn't look that dangerous to me' before walking away. I knew I should, but I couldn't. So I stood there, my eyes locked to his deep pools of silver as one of the two guards behind him, hit him in the lower back with the butt of his rifle.

I flinched, making myself stay still, biting down on my lower lip so hard that I felt a small rush of warmth and tasted the copperish flavor of my own blood, just so I wouldn't let the scream of, 'NO' rip from my throat.

I wondered if he knew how much I was hurting standing there and watching what was being done to him. How much it hurt to see his graceful movement restricted or the way that my breath caught in my throat to see the bit back in his mouth, making him bare those strong white teeth with an aggression that was only part of who he was.

It felt like someone had reached inside my chest and was squeezing my heart as hard as they could. I didn't know what to do, I knew I couldn't possibly help him no matter how badly I wanted to do something, stage some sort of a rescue, anything. So I just stood there. Stood there and watched the one good thing in my life be loaded up in a squad car and driven away, out of my life, into a life I wouldn't wish on the dog that bit me. And then I shoved my hands in my pockets and walked away like the whole thing didn't matter at all.

I was alone and I felt utterly helpless.

Note: Hello everyone.

So I'm sure you're all aware of who my main character is. This is my take on what might have happened if we discount the whole COR. I hope you enjoy the story that I have planned out. Reviews are more then welcome I love to hear your comments, thoughts and even ideas as to where you think this story should be headed.

Thanks.