Disclaimer: I don't own anything except this sandwich.

Authors Notes: Just a dark little thing that popped into my head at 3am after several pints. The magical wonders of alcohol, eh? Don't forget, reviews make my day.

Running

By Chaimera

She was running.

Running so fast and so hard that her thighs were aching and her lungs burning. Even though, somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that she wasn't really breathing any more. Still, her lungs burnt and her legs ached and she ran.

Down an endless corridor.

Behind her, there were men. Men with sticks and ropes.

And even though she had no pulse, a trickle of blood ran down the side of her mouth where she had been hit.

Even though no blood coursed through her veins, the bruises on her wrists where she had been bound were visible.

And still she ran.

There were tears coursing down her face as she lurched forward. Time moved differently here. She had been running for days. Tortured for months. Waiting for years.

She ran.

And then, she saw it. A plain, pine door. A metal handle, slightly lower than usual, with a letter box over it. Later, she would wonder why on earth there was a letter box on deaths door. There was something written above the door, but she never had taken the time to look.

She barreled towards that door, her legs burning even more than they had before. She didn't even slow down, so when she hit the hard surface, the handle digging in to her stomach, she bounced back. But her hands were clutched tightly around that fixture so when she fell, the door opened.

When she hit the ground, she threw herself forward, just as she had planned. She had planned this for weeks. Every little action was scripted.

And yet, when she threw herself across that threshold she hadn't anticipated the feelings that would flood back to her. The relief, the love, the joy.

But it was short lived. She could feel their scrawny hands clutching at her legs, pulling her back. It felt just like the first time. When Kemp had called them. Despite the fact that her throat was raw, she screamed, fingers clawing at the stone floor.

A strong, warm, gloved hand wrapped around hers and pulled. She gripped her other hand on to the arm that was holding hers and looked up. The eyes of her savior were fiery and full of defiance. They seemed to give her some of that energy and she kicked. She felt her heel come into contact with something and the grip on her legs loosened. This emboldened her still and she kept thrashing until, suddenly, there was no grip on her legs at all, and she went flying forwards. She ended up on a heap on the other side of whatever room she was in and she heard a heavy click as her door swung shut.

Suddenly, a warm body covered hers, hands touching her face, her arms, checking for any injury pointlessly. She inhaled deeply and collapsed boneless, gazing up at the man above her.

"Annie?"

She smiled weakly up at him and raised a hand to touch his face. "I made it."

He gave her a roguish grin, but she could see the distress in his hazel irises. "Yeah. You did. I should get…"

She stopped him. "Not just yet. Can I rest?"

The worry in his eyes increased. "'Course you can. But he's going to want to see you."

"I know. Just…" Her voice broke.

Before she could do anything he scooped her up in his arms and carried her a few steps before laying her on a bed. He lay down beside her and reached towards her hesitantly.

She buried herself into his chest and his arms wrapped around her in a vice grip, as if she might disappear.

"I couldn't find you." His words were anguished and she could feel his tears as he buried his face in his shoulder.

She threw an arm around him and closed her eyes.

"That's ok. I found you."