Steal My Breath

Blood On His Hands

Remus ran as fast as his legs were willing to go; ran until his lungs burned and his sides ached from the exertion. There was blood on his hands - oh God - and no matter how hard he tired, he couldn't get it to come off. They worked at the faded fabric of his jeans frantically, scrubbing until his skin was raw, but the stains just wouldn't go away.

The images flashed through his mind slowly, one by one, and Remus wanted to pull at his hair except there was blood - on his hands, on his hands - and he had no desire for it to spread to any other part of him. He just wanted them - it - to go away. He hadn't asked for this; wanted no part of it, so why did they continue to haunt him?

The man's beaten and broken body, lying in a pool of its own blood - on his hands; oh, God, why on his hands? - and all Remus had been able to do was stare. The sightless eyes, the open, terrified mouth, the tear tracks through the blood - get it off, get it off! - and dirt: they had petrified him. Before he knew it, however, his muscles had unfrozen and he had run.

Now his feet were pounding across the pavement, the streetlights illuminating his form as he streaked through their yellow circles before he was cast into darkness once again. His heart pounded and his muscles screamed for mercy, but he couldn't stop; not yet. He wouldn't allow himself to stop until he was there.

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There was a loud, annoying ringing in Sirius' ear as he was roused from his sleep. His hand stretched out and he swatted at his alarm clock, but the sound persisted. He swiped his hand in its general direction again and there was a crash as it sailed from the table and landed on the floor in rattling pieces. He began to breathe a sigh of relief, but the ringing sounded loudly again.

Sirius cracked a bleary eye open and stared fuzzily across the space at the glowing green numbers. He cursed when he realised what time it was and reached for the telephone, which was what was making such an annoying noise.

"What?" he snapped through the line at the other person. "Do you not understand that it's still dark outside?"

"Sirius," the voice said, "it's James."

"What the bloody hell do you want at three in the morning?" he growled, kicking at his sheets in irritation. "Don't you have a wife and kid somewhere to aggravate? If only you knew the type of dream I was having. It was heaven, I'm telling you. Bloody flipping heaven."

"Sirius, pull your head out of your arse and listen to me," James shouted so loudly that the line crackled. Sirius cringed away from the phone. "Chief wants you in here now."

Sirius groaned into his pillow. "Can't it wait 'til the sun comes up?"

"No, it can't," James replied gravely. "There's been a murder, Sirius."

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A/N: So, what do you think so far? Horrible? Wonderful? Horribly wonderful? Let me know!

Yes, I know it's short, but the following chapters will be longer, I promise. This is simply the beginning.

So, here are the details about this story. In the initial planning of the plot, everything worked out relatively well, except for one thing. There are two different ways in which this can end. Being completely indecisive, I have chosen to make this a sort of 'choose your fate' type of thing. Sometime, in the coming chapters, there will be a point in which it can branch and split off. When that point comes, I will ask all of you lovely people one simple three worded question which will only have a one worded answer. I will not provide any scenarios as to what you are choosing. You will not know the results of the winning decision until the very end. Sound exciting? ^_^

Also, a large thanks to potterwatch97 for all the help!