AN : It... It was supposed to be longer... ;_; Anyway, in the end I chose to make it a police AU with flashbacks. Enjoy some policemen introduction though.

'De achtervolging' - The pursuit (Dutch)

Word count : 1329

Run.

First alley.

Stop. Breathe.

Turn around. Run to the left.

Pant. Another alley.

Stop. Search.

(- -)

He absolutely hated running after the culprits. Why did those bastards always have to go through the alleys that weren't accessible with a car? As if they could outrun him!

… Well, maybe they could. And his idiotic colleague was already so damn far away! They honestly couldn't just surrender and say 'okay, yes, I killed him, now lock me in a cell 'til I'm tried'. He had to have been cursed, there was no other possible reasonable explanation for being assigned to the cases of those who happened to be a little more stubborn than the others.

Goddamn, now he had a stitch.

And he didn't even know where his partner had gone.

If Lars had been able to foresee where the police would take him, he would just have continued his medicine studies, and become a general practitioner somewhere in Enschede. Or maybe in Tilburg, then he and his sister could live not too far away from each other, if she ever decided to go back to Belgium. He took a few deep breaths, and shouted a name in the cold winter air that bounced back to his ears in the uninhabited streets. He could see his breath forming little white clouds as he panted, stretched his neck, and examined his options. He could just keep on running, but that would be futile : he didn't know where the culprit was, and if he landed somewhere too far away and his partner needed him, he couldn't do anything. He could stay here and wait, which was also useless, unless they would both appear in front of him, and he doubted that. He could also call for him, or ask for reinforcement.

Lars hated it when he didn't know what to do. It meant that he was ruled by something other than his own willpower (or his sister, not that he would admit that last one) and that he would have to face situations he wasn't used to. It was a lot easier when you could control something. Unfortunately for him, Lars had stopped controlling most of the things that happened in his life when he came to the police.

Damn them all.

After a few other sharp intakes of breath, he calmed himself down and listened to the silent that surrounded him. There were cars further away, he could here the low humming of a machine down that street, maybe a dog running after a cat, the wind blowing through his short hair, a loud scream-

"Shit." He whispered angrily before he started running in the direction he had heard the voice come from. His breaths were visible in the ice-cold air around him again, the wind biting his cheeks and burning his eyes with the same ferocity and savagery an enraged wolf would have when tearing a prey apart.

He had to be fast. You did not joke around with someone accused of having killed eight people.

(- -)

As soon as he noticed Lars wasn't following him anymore, he paused for a split second before deciding that running after that murderer would be better than let him run away. He didn't really consider the pros and cons of following a serial killer alone ; for him, it was really more of a matter of justice and fairness and he was a lucky guy so nothing would happen, yes?

When he arrived next to a dark alley, he suddenly had a bad feeling, but those usually involved the culprits themselves so he stepped in slowly nonetheless. He prepared his gun, firmly took it between his fingers, arms stretched and pointing to the ground not to get his weapon snatched away. From the corner of his eye, he noticed a form moving, and he turned around, pointing the firearm at the person.

He hadn't expected him to find a knife hidden in the middle of a pile of trash, nor that he would try to stab him in the stomach with it.

Fortunately for him, if not particularly brilliant, Antonio was fast and agile. He dodged the blow of the sharp weapon rather easily and grabbed his gun, or at least tried to. It had disappeared out of his hands. This man was not a wanted serial killer for kicks, he really knew how to react in this kind of situations. In a few seconds, Antonio found himself crashed face first against the wall, a hand tightly grabbing his hair when it made his face collide with the hard surface once more. He could feel blood dripping along his lips and come into his mouth already, he was sure his nose was broken, he must have yelled at one point. He still had a reserve gun in the inside of his jacket, but he didn't know how to take it without the man noticing.

He was now thrown to the ground, a sharp kick in his stomach made him scream consciously for the first time. He felt every single blow that was directed towards him, somehow still managed to grab his weapon. But the man was faster, and suffered less. He snatched it away easily, threw himself with all his weight on Antonio while being careful to crash his backbone with his knee, and turned the gun with agility between his fingers.

He had the absent gaze of a madman.

He apparently decided his knife was a better use than the firearm, because he threw it away in the dark alley where it clattered along the cold cobblestone.

A voice broke out at that moment. 'Let him go!' it screamed, but the man didn't care. In one swift motion, he grabbed Antonio's hair and had him bent in a particularly painful-looking position ; his neck was pulled back, the knife along his throat was pressing against it firmly and Lars managed to identify the slightest hint of blood dripping along the blade, Antonio's back still squashed with the man's knee ; and then again, the Dutchman found himself in a position where he didn't know how to react.

Sacrifice his friend? Let a serial killer who wouldn't stop his macabre business go away? He knew the Spaniard well. A lot of people knew Antonio, he talked a lot and that was usually enough for most people, but Lars knew him when it came to justice. And the glance he caught, the one of a man who wasn't scared, told him to shoot. Shoot at the man. Forget about him. He. Knew.

But Lars couldn't.

Antonio was annoying, but as he would often put it when he wasn't around, he was 'a good guy'. He didn't deserve to die. There were still lots of drunken nights with Francis and Gilbert and Kai and maybe that Dennis guy he didn't know all that well (but who was a funny drunk) at 'Hungary' offing. He couldn't, and wouldn't let it end like this.

His hands were trembling the tiniest bit. He thought it was futile to try to impress the man, with his wicked smile and shining blade tightly clutched in his hand, pressing a little harder against the smooth skin of Antonio's neck. He knew he would try to kill him. The situation had a dead end.

Antonio screamed 'SHOOT!', and mechanically, after the madman had pressed so hard that there actually was a gargled syllable that came out of the Spaniard's mouth with the blood he spit, he did as he was told.

The second he did, Lars already regretted it. If the man wasn't dead on-the-spot, Antonio would pay the consequences. He had never been that good at shooting.

Instinctively, Antonio shot his hands up and caught the blade between his fingers so his windpipe would not end up slashed through, regardless of what would happen.

And then, in a second, everything went black, for the both of them.

Antonio Fernández Carriedo [24] and Lars Wittezwaan [30] are respectively Spain and the Netherlands. They are both policemen : Lars works for the police for 8 years, Antonio for almost 3.
I think I would absolutely adore to make a flashback with those two~ Well, comment if you liked. Also. Cliffhanger? Where? :D