"Run"

The swirling green light surrounded her, pierced her, wept with her; it filled her lungs as she escaped. It caressed her as she ate away at the ground, as she stumbled and sprained her ankle, as she got back up and ran harder- faster.

The green foliage refracted the light and danced with her, mocking her, as she curtailed the thoughts that ran rampantly throughout her, that ate away at her mind until she couldn't escape.

So she ran faster.

Her green sundress swirled around her legs, swishing and bunching and hindering, and she immediately thought it funny. Funny how something so beautiful could very well be the death of her. How something that was bought out of comfort and functionality, for God's sakes! Was going to kill her; be the death of her, put her in an early grave.

Her thoughts were running away with her again, but at least she was bringing something along for the ride.

She was so intensely aware that Amy wasn't next to her, hadn't been since the tersely-worded 'do it now because I don't have enough time to spare to make sure you're really going to be safe.' And it made her feel like a coward.

No. Made her realize that she was nothing but a coward.

And then suddenly there was so much white and yellow and red. Oh God the red. And she couldn't make herself stop to gawk at the beauty of it, like a shard of light designed for no other purpose than to kill, to delve deep into the soul and splinter into pieces that would never be found.

At first she didn't register anything around her, such was her frantic need to simply get away. And then, slowly, she noticed blurs that would sharpen, bend, eat away at the skyline, as if they were trying to claim any small portion of the universe that they could- all inky black and sequined hope.

It wasn't for another twenty minutes that she realized they were people. Hordes of them, and all of them staring somewhere, all of them belonging somewhere, needing something, someone. All of them going home.

Rounding sharply on her feet, she careened into a side alley and simply collapsed. From exhaustion, from stress and strain, from worry, and from pure hurt (something so much farther escalated than fear that it seemingly needed its own category in her aching mind).

She's going to stay here forever. She's going to forget all the love and pain and simple past that she has, and stay in this forsaken alley for all of eternity and a day.

Forget the smiles and the true love that shone in their eyes. Forget the betrayal that was ultimately her fault. Forget that her friend is out there somewhere right now; or possibly not any longer.

Can't think about that. Too painful. Too close. Too at fault.

She never thought it would come to this- to hiding pitiably in small alleys, in a corner of the world that only God and Amy knew (and that's not entirely true, she berates herself, and thus knows that no matter how tired she is, she's got to keep moving).

Suddenly, she wishes she could Jump. Because then she'd have a reason to be fighting on the side that she is, and not just because she was thrust into it- and damnit all, she's on the right side.

She wants nothing more than to be able to go back to where she last saw Amy, in that clearing of despair that reeked of false promises and new hurts. So that she could at least try to do something, anything- instead of being stuck here, wherever it is, and wondering furiously and with reckless abandon, what in the hell is happening to her friend.

She feels the Jump before she sees the person, and turns around as fast as she can (after all, she had been sitting on the ground a moment ago), thinking desperately that it's Amy, come to tell her everything's ok, that they have to move, and no permanent damage done.

But it's not.

And she sickeningly realizes, with the cold finality that only fire-breathing ice cubes forcing themselves down your throat and into your stomach can give you, that Amy is never going to be the one she feels Jumping again. Not ever.

"Hey, I know you. Miss Can't Dance, right?"

Cocky bastard, she gratingly thinks, knows, feels, within every pore of her being.

She's half-stooped in the best fighting stance she can muster, covered in mud and sweat and blood and saliva. Her hair's matted to her neck and face, her eyes vibrant and glossy; she's heaving and trying to stifle sobs that leave her body wracking and writhing in pain.

And he's asking if she's the girl that can't dance.

She's going to kick his ass. The thought didn't even have to register before she's pushing herself off the brick wall of support she coddled moments before, and her fist is shoving itself in his face.

He's been caught off guard, which is the only reason she was able to pop him a good square one right on the corner of his mouth. She'd been aiming higher, hoping for maybe a nose or an eye (she laughs here, too, because she's making it sound like he's an alien with two noses), but she settles happily for the split lip and undoubtedly nasty looking bruise that she's given him.

And then she runs.

Not out of fear of retaliation, but that she'll rain death down upon him, too. Because she can feel them coming. Not like she does with Jumpers, all sense and magic and simply just knowing.

She knows with the bone-numbing terror that experience brings upon the weary and knowledgeable. She knows because she's trained with them, because she can feel the very power rolling off of them like they have enough to spare, so might as well just ooze it out.

Damned Paladins.

But stupid accent-boy caught up to her too fast for her liking, she shouldn't be surprised really, except that she is; and her poor frazzled nerves can't take much more of this.

It's then, out in the busy street with Paladins chasing her, and a very angry looking man standing in front of her, that she realizes that he Jumped.

"Oh, shit," she mumbles.

I've edited all the chapters to fit one basic writing style, past and present are now one tense (second), but past happenings will be in italics, whereas present won't. Obviously.

The only chapter that got a real make-over is the fourth chapter, since so much of it was in the first person, but it still gets the same ideas across, so if you don't want to re-read it, then you'll still know what's going on when I post the fifth chapter later today (this author's note is going to be sooo dated tomorrow!)

Disclaimer goes down here: I don't own it. There. Done with.