His breath was reduced to gasps as his body began to protest his pace, but he couldn’t slow down. He couldn’t. His chest was burning and with every stride he felt his legs weaken. He could only wonder how much more he could push from himself before he would collapse. Though the only thing audible to him was his blood pounding in his ears and his ragged breath, he knew they weren’t far behind. The sounds of their whistles calling through the cold night air like some odd bird and their pounding footsteps told him all he needed to know about how close they were.

He wanted to look behind him to see exactly how close they were; maybe he was far enough ahead that he would have the chance to pause to breathe and rest, if only for a split second. But if they were as close as they had been when he had turned down the alley such an unnecessary act would only serve to slow him down.

Suddenly the world flipped. Up became down and the ground became sky. There was a brief moment before he realized he had tripped that he thought that maybe the world was coming to the end. It certainly felt that way to him. He hit the ground hard, but his heavy cloak protected him from the cobble streets. He was able to sneak a glance behind him as he rolled and jumped back to his feet in one fluid motion. They were close, but there was enough of the alley between them to give him a chance to maybe save himself. He glanced further down the alleyway and saw where it turned on to a main street. It was a street he knew well and there was an old bar run by his aunt a little while down the street. The prefect place for him to throw off his pursers.

Hoping his body would bare with this abuse for only a while longer, he reached down deep for his last little bit of stamina and sped down the alley, gaining just the led he needed. As he turned the corner he ripped his cloak off and instantly wondered why he had not done so earlier. The thing was so heavy and he gained another little burst of speed once it was off.

The street wasn’t busy, and those on the city street paid no mind to the man and the group chasing him. It was a common sight. No one cared. It wasn’t their business. He knew none of this strangers would rat him out to those chasing him. They would say they saw nothing.

Once his cloak was off, he struggled to roll it into a ball as he ran. He passed by the bar and his safety; his eyes were set on the next alley. He tossed the cloak down the alley staying only long enough to see it land in a crumpled pile next to a stack of old crates, looking as though it had simply gotten snagged on the objects. Perfect.

He quickly ducked into the doorway of the nearest building. He was still three building from his safety, but this would have to work. The door to the building, it appeared to be an old shop, was locked, but there was a small archway over the door that allowed him to hide if he was to press himself into the side and stay quiet in the shadows.

They were loud as they came around the corner, shouting and yelling first at the man, but once they saw he wasn’t on the street, at the people. As he guessed, no one said a thing. He stayed in his crevice, trying to quiet his breathing. He was in plain sight if they were to come from the wrong angle. He was praying they would see the cloak before one of them decided to come his way.

The man let out a loud sigh, which he was afraid might give him away, when one of them noticed the cloak and they reformed into a mob and rushed down the alley.

He wasn’t sure how he managed to force his run down, tired body down the street and into the bar, but he did. He opened the door calmly, noted that his aunt was having a slow night as everyone in the bar was regular. All three of them. Once the door shut behind him his legs gave out and he toppled to the ground, panting and gasping, his long race finally taking its toll on his body.

The guests glanced up from their drinks to look curiously at the young man lying in the floor. They all knew who he was; they were merely wondering what bit of mischief brought him worn out and breathless into the bar at this hour of the night.

The oldest of the guests, known to the others only as Doctor, though no one believed him an actual practitioner of medicine, was the first to leave his seat to check on the young man. He had known the young man since he was a baby, over sixteen years now.

“Geston? Hey,” Doctor called, “Geston are you okay? What have you gotten yourself into now?”

The young man lifted his head, his dirty black locks falling into his face as he did. “Nothing, nothing,” he managed in a gasp, before pushing himself into a sitting position. He was in good shape, his body, lean and slightly muscled, but that chase had taken a lot out of him.

“Nothing, eh?” Doctor said with a disbelieving tone, “Nothing doesn’t lead to a young man running to a bar and collapsing at this odd hour.”

“I got into some trouble, okay, ” the young man said, pulling himself to his feet slowly. “Do you know where my aunt is?” Doctor gave him a hand up, shaking his head.

“Nah, I saw her earlier though, went upstairs. Dunno if she’s still up there. Wasn’t paying much attention. Now what kind of trouble are we talking about here?”

Geston quickly turned from Doctor and headed for the stairs. All that was upstairs was a large storage room and a small room he used on occasion. She was probably still up there since no one saw her come down... unless she had felt the need to take the others stairs that lead out into the alleyway. Half way up the stairs the young man spun around, as he just remembered something and shouted to Doctor and the other patrons in the bar.

“If anyone comes in looking for me, I’m not here,” he said before disappearing up stairs. The two patrons mumbled an okay before gossiping as to what young Geston had done this time while Doctor merely shook his head before sitting back down.

“God only knows what that boy’s done now,” he said with a sigh. He was a close friend of Geston, having known him for as long as he had, but the stunts that boy managed to pull never ceased to amaze him.

“I thought I heard the night patrol and their infernal whistles...” one patron said.

“You don’t think they were after Geston, do ya?” his friend asked, frightened. He knew Geston was a trouble maker, but he had yet to hear of him actually getting the patrol after him. The Doctor and the other man laughed.

“You haven’t been here too long, you don’t know Geston like we do. He likes to piss off the patrol for the hell of it!” the first patron laughed, and Doctor nodded in agreement.

“He’s a good kid though, wouldn’t hurt anyone, and if he did, they probably deserved it!” The Doctor said.

The three continued to talk, even starting a bet on what exactly Geston had done.

Upstairs the young trouble maker was desperately trying to get his aunt to let him stow away for a while.

“I said no, Geston. Not unless you tell me exactly what is going on!” his aunt said, sliding a barrel against the wall of the storage room. It was already cramped with just her up here but Geston made it almost impossible to move. She had been doing inventory, taking advantage of the slow hour, when Geston stormed up asking for her to hide him for a while. This wasn’t the first time he had gotten himself into trouble, but it was getting annoying. Especially since he always seemed to run to her to hide. Usually he offered at least a vague explanation, but he seemed rushed and nervous tonight. She loved Geston, but she would like to know exactly why he was needing a hiding place and from whom.

“Look, I’ll explain it, just let me stay up here for a little bit! I’ll explain it all later. I think I lost them, but I’d rather be safe than sorry,” he pled desperately. Finally the woman gave in, sighing she said he could stay, and helped in through the small door to the hidden room. He called out a thank you as she shut the door and moved a few barrels in front of it to hide the entrance.

She figured there wasn’t much else to do upstairs so the woman headed down to the bar, deciding that would be the best place to be if the patrol or anyone came in looking for her wonderful nephew.

“So what’d he do now?” Doctor questioned, as the woman came down the stairs.

“Dunno,” she replied with a shrug of her shoulders, “he didn’t say.”

“Damn,” the first patron said, wanting to know who had won the bet. He and the Doctor believe he had broke into somewhere while the other man thought Geston maybe just mouthed off.

Up in the room, Geston was hiding behind some old crates, his face pressed to the small hole in the wall that gave him a pretty good view of the bar. If the men chasing him did come in and started getting too curious he would be able to escape out into the alley using the back staircase in no time. He had never had to do that yet, but there was a first time for everything.

Minutes passed and nothing of interest happened. Geston was just starting to believe he had really gotten away, when the door to the bar swung open. The young man held his breath and pulled away from the hole, even though he knew it was impossible to see from the bar. He waited a second before pressing his eye back to the peephole and watching.

The door had snapped open to reveal not only several members of the night patrol but also member of the royal guard. Geston glared. The night patrol was one thing, most were lazy, and if he eluded them long enough they gave up. But with his latest stunt, they had called on the royal guard for help. Part of the capital’s elite protection was now on his tail. Great.

“Good evening, Gentlemen,” his aunt said from behind the counter of the bar, “can I get anything for you?”

“No thank you ma’am,” the royal guard member said smoothly, “we are looking for a criminal.” Geston glared through the hole at the man. He did not like him. The man had an oily, snake like look to him, and the way he was looking about the bar as though is was a trash heap made the young man want to storm downstair and punch him.

“A criminal?” Doctor said, with a tone that anyone else would mistake as fearful, but had Geston laughing to himself.

“Indeed,” the guard said, eyes moving over the place suspiciously. “You wouldn’t have happened to have seen a young man, dressed in all black running around this evening?”

“No, sir,” Doctor said, “but I’ll keep an eye out.”

“And you, ma’am?” the guard said turning to Geston’s aunt.

“No, haven’t seen anyone like that,” she replied.

“We found his cloak down the alleyway near here, are you sure?” he persisted.

“I would remember someone like that,” she said. “What exactly did this person do to have the royal guard after him?”

Upstairs Geston flinched and pulled away from the hole as the guard gave a smile before explaining the crime. The young man only hoped his aunt and the others would understand when he explained exactly what had happened.

“Oh my, that’s horrible,” Geston heard his aunt say, and her tone worried him. He knew his aunt was a good actress, but there seemed to be real disgust in her voice after hearing the crime. He nervously peeked back out to continue watching.

“Quite horrible,” the man said with a nodded, his eyes now wandering over to the two patrons and Doctor still seated at their table. “Which is why we need to catch him. We even have a large reward for anyone who helps us capture him tonight, or just gives us information.” His eyes drifted over to the pocket change the patrons had laid out in the bet over Geston’s criminal actives.

Geston tried not to laugh at the man’s pathetic attempts at bribery; he knew his aunt, Doctor and the others wouldn’t sell him out. They were his family. He trusted them more than anything. He was waiting for his aunt to insist that she really did not know anything, and for the guard and the patrol leave empty handed. He needed to explain what had happened to the others, mainly his aunt. She seemed upset when she heard the guard explain the crime, what he knew of it anyway, and Geston wanted to give her the full story. A small time criminal he may be, but his aunt knew that, most of the time, what he did was justified, and the tone in her voice a moment ago hurt him a little. He knew there wasn’t much he could do; most people would jump to conclusions. He just wanted those stupid guards to get the hell out so he could explain his latest mess.

The atmosphere in the bar had suddenly changed. At the mention of monetary reward, the two patron’s raised their eyebrows. Even Doctor and the woman seemed curious. In these times money was hard to come by, and after hearing what exactly Geston had done. . .

The young man watched from his hiding place, starting to feel a little nervous. He knew it was totally ridiculous; no one down there would ever sell him out. Still he watched anxiously, wondering why his aunt had not reasserted the fact she knew nothing and told the men to get out yet.

“How much are we talking here?” Geston’s aunt questioned. She moved from behind the bar to over by the table with Doctor and the others; her eyes locked on the royal guard.

“Enough,” the man replied. “But it doesn’t matter, you said you haven’t seen anything.” A smirk grew on the guard’s face as he slowly turned around, making for the door. Geston’s aunt exchanged a quick glance with Doctor and the others. All three held the same conflicted, unsure face.

“Wait,” Doctor called out, surprising all of them, especially Geston who felt his heart drop into his stomach. There was no way they would sell him out. No way. No way. It wasn’t possible!

“Yes?” the guard said, turning back around. “Did the reward jog your memory?” Doctor looked up at Geston’s aunt and then to the patrons, who nodded. Geston was a good kid, but hearing what he had done…. besides he needed to learn to grow up. His little ‘criminal streak’ needed to end, he was no longer a child. Doctor looked around the group, everyone there had known Geston for at least a year, and everyone nodded. The idea of money was out weighting Geston and his childishness.

“Is there any way the reward can be spilt?” Geston’s aunt questioned, and the royal guard smiled.

“Of course. Am I to assume all four of you have information?” he asked, calmly.

Geston watched with wide horrified eyes as the four talked quickly among themselves before his aunt approached the royal guard and whispered something. Instantly the man’s eyes went to where Geston was spying from. Their eyes met, somehow, and Geston jumped away from the wall. His heart was pounding as he fought off tears. This wasn’t happening. He calmed himself down enough to realize there was still a way out. He heard the royal guard shout at the night patrol to get upstairs and he quickly went to the door to escape. If he could get out and down the back stairs, hopefully he’d be in the alley and down the street before anyone was any wiser, but there was a hitch in the plan; there barrels were blocking him in. With a bit of pushing he managed to force the door open, but that was precious time wasted. The patrol was just coming up the stairs as Geston opened the door to the back stairs.

“Stop right there!” one yelled, but Geston was down the stairs in a flash. His heart was racing. He stopped thinking about what had just happened, about how his family, the people he had trusted, had just sold him out, and just let his natural survival instinct take over. And all that told him was to run. As fast and as hard as he could.

He made it to the door that lead to the alley before the patrol men could even start to descend the stairs. He was free. He was going to make it. He flung the door open and took off.

For the second time that evening Geston suddenly found himself on the ground, only this time it really was the end of the world. He was sprawled out on the ground, head stinging, staring up at the smiling face of the royal guard. He had ran right into him; his aunt must have mentioned this escape route.

“You can put on quite a chase, Geston, isn’t it?” the man said with a slight chuckle. “But it’s over now.” He reached down to pull the young man to his feet, but Geston was quicker. He rolled to his side and jumped to his feet. He started to take off but the guard lunged at him and tackled him to the ground. Geston fought tooth and nail, but the man was too strong. He was yanked roughly to his feet before the man pulled a pair of manacles and fashioned his hands together in front of him. Still Geston wasn’t ready to surrender and he tried to run once more, managing to get a few feet of distance before the man caught back up and shoved the young man into the wall. Geston winced as his face scrapped against the bricks.

“Go ahead, give me a reason to kill you,” the guard hissed in Geston’s ear, and the a second later there was a dagger to his neck.

Geston spun around and spat in his capture’s face. “Go to hell,” he hissed. The man wiped his face, but seemed to have brushed it off, and even took a step back and turned around. Geston took a hesitant step forward when the guard spun around and plunged the dagger into Geston’s left shoulder. Geston yelled trying to push the man away as he twisted the dagger. Geston fell to his knees and the man pulled the weapon free. He sat there, breath ragged and his heart racing., now bleeding from his shoulder. His mind need to play catch up. He need to think.

That stabbing had in a way brought him back to reality. He had resigned himself to fighting and running, so he couldn’t think, but now it was hopeless. He couldn’t believe this was happening. His world was ending. His family sold him out. He was betrayed, by people he loved and trusted. His aunt, Doctor, his family; Saul, and Jamison, the two patrons, his friends, they gave him up. He was about to fall over, when the man jerked him back up. And pulled him out onto the street. He was numb. He walked with his head down as the guard stayed close, the dagger in plain sight. It was over. He knew it. They would never want to hear his side. He wished his family would have trusted in him! Then he would have got to explain the full story, but now it was lost.

Geston was tempted, as he was led away, to glance back at the bar, but he didn’t. If there was someone there, hanging around outside to get a glimpse of him, he might become so angry he would run at them, forgetting the man with the dagger who had already stabbed him once, and if there was no one he feared he might lose face and show those tears that had been welding up since he saw his aunt betray him to the guard. So he was led away quietly, trying to concentrate on the pain of his shoulder rather than what hurt worse.