BEING HAULED BACK TO LINCOLN, the couple's feet barely kept up with the sped of the wagon. Their wrists burned as they were pulled with the ropes. Their legs arched after running for hours on end, without a break. Their backs scratched beyond belief whenever either fell from exhaustion and was hauled against the rough dirt on their backs.

Finally, after twenty or so hours, the wagon finally stopped, and the couple recognised their surrounds as that of Lincoln City. Their once beloved hometown. The very city where they announced their love for each other. The very city where they grew and learned together. But now, the town was nothing but a violent, corrupt, basically lawlessly site.

A man with a pistol walked up to the couple. He grabbed Doc first, shotting the rope connecting him to the wagon. "Open her up, Bell!" The man ordered over his shoulder, grinning evilly at the blonde teacher. Doc almost collapsed without his tether to the wagon, falling into the man's frame. "Nice to see ya, Doc. I got a few friends waiting for ya!" With that, Doc was thrown into the pit that was filled with other convicts and criminals.

"Wait!" Doc called out, grabbing the man's attention. "What about my wife?"

The man smirked, looking at the exhausted Belle over his shoulder. "Oh, I have special plans for her, Doc. Don't you worry about it,"

Doc began to shout and scream, in fear of his wife in danger. But the yells were cut short when a chain wrapped around his throat, threats being muttered in his ear.

Belle was still lying on the ground, unable to stand up by herself. The man laughed at the sight, grabbing the woman by her hair, pulling her up to her knees so he could see her face.

"Ah, Miss Belle, or should I say, Mrs Scurlock," the Sheriff evilly smiled. "You're still as pretty as ever," the man smirked down at the girl. Unable to form any words, Belle could only manage to spit at man's chest, her nostrils flaring and her breath ragged. "And still feisty, I see."

The man shot at the rope tying Belle to the chariot. Pulling her by her blonde locks, the Sheriff hauled the yelping girl to a building where she was seated on a chair. Her hands were chained in front of her and her feet were tied together to a rope connected to the chair. The dark-tressed man who pulled her to her new location spat at the girl, leaving so a younger man with a rifle.

"Please," Belle hoarsely spoke out. "Please, tell me what happened to my children, please tell me Doc will be okay!" She blonde begged, tears spilling from her orbs. The younger deputy who was tying her up paused, gazing up at her face guiltily.

"I haven't got the slightest clue, ma'am, I'm sorry," the guard apologised, wincing when the blonde woman before him burst into a fit of sobs and gasps. A yell came from outside the door, banging on the wood, instructing the guard to shut Belle up. Looking around the room, the guard saw a piece of cloth. Rushing over to it, he hastily tied the material around Belle's mouth. Although the sobs escaping Belles' mouth still sounded around the room, they were muffled and quieter than what they once were.

-----

Throughout her time in the room, Belle had almost gone insane. She had lost count of the hours, although she knew it had been two night since she was dragged here from New York. The guards that watched over her varied over the hours, each treating her differently than the last.

The minority treated decently, loosening her ropes the slightest so she wouldn't bruise, one even taking the cloth out from her mouth so they could chat. But when they left, the worse guards came. They would slap her, pull her hair, throw large lumps of dirt at her, utter threats in her ear, one even pissed at the bottom of her dress.

The guard which was watching over her now was a mix between both. Some nights he would abuse her mentally and physically, others he would try and talk to her. That night, Belle didn't want to know what mood he was in.

The temperamental guard yawned, leaning his rifle against the wall near Belle, walking over the corner of the room to empty his bladder. Belle glanced at the guard quickly, then at the gun beside her. Trying her best to remain quiet, she painfully stood up and reached out to the rifle. Her fingers were grazing the handle when she heard the guard finishing up.

While the guard was zipping up his pants, his ears pricked up at the sound of a rifle being cocked behind him.

Slowly turning around, the guard raised his hands by his head to see Belle holding the rifle in her hands, aiming it right at his head. "Alright, Miss Belle, there's no need to bring guns into it,"

Belle narrowed her eyes. Twisting the gun in her hands, she jabbed the gun into the guard's head, sending him into a deep unconscious state and a trial of blood falling out of his nostril.

Sighing, Belle shot at the ropes at her feet so she could walk over to the sleeping officer. Rummaging through his coat, Belle stole his bullets for the rifle, the keys to the room and her handcuffs, and a spare pistol. Unlocking the chains around her wrists, Belle noticed a clump of papers resting in the guard's breast-pocket. Plucking them out, Belle recognised them as Doc's poems, the ones that she kept on her as they were her favourites, the ones that were taken from her when she arrived.

Smiling, Belle grabbed the gun, papers, bullets and keys and stumbled over to the locked door. Flipping through the keys, Belle finally found the right one and unlocked the door. Sneaking out of the room, Belle was engulfed by the darkness of the night. Spotting an orange hue emitting from around the corner, Belle peeked around the corner, seeing a group of masked riders with torches. With a worried expression, Belle realised that the group was a lynch mob.

"Kid's escaped, the little weasel," the Sheriff smirked. Belle gasped at his confession. Billy was in town. Or was, at least.

"Oh, I'm sure he did, mister," one of the masked figures accused.

"See for yourself. Open the pit," the Sheriff challenged his hands still up in surrender. One man from the mob dismounts his horse, peering into the pit, unable to see Billy in there. "No Billy the Kid in there."

"It's true! He's gone!"

One mobster sighs, defeatedly. "He might as well go,"

"We got some of his Regulators there," The Sheriff proposed with a raise of his eyebrow. "The Indian and Tenderfoot. They rode out with the Kid on the Tunstall-McSween side. How'd they be?"

"They'll have to do,"

Belle watched as Josiah and her old friend, Chevez, were dragged onto two horses, riding away from the town, with guns being pointed at them. When they were a good distance away, the mob ripped the masks from their heads, revealing that it was Billy and his new gang.

Belle smiled at the sight that her husband and her friends were escaping, but her expression soon turned sour as the real lynch mob arrived at the edge of the town centre.

That was when the chaos broke out. Belle stayed in her position secretly watching it all break out, her rifle ready if need be. With her eyes flickering over all the mess that occurred. Her eyes landed on the Sheriff, who was looking in her general direction. With a sudden fire bubbling in her stomach, Belle raised her stolen rifle to her eye, aiming the gun at the Sheriff's head. When the man's gaze finally landed on her, his eyes widened in shock.

Then, Belle hastily lowered her aim, shooting the despicable man in his knee cap. The Sheriff scream in pain, falling down to her ground. Belle stumbled over to him, forgetting about the chaos around them. Reaching down, Belle grabbed a fistful of the Sheriff's hair, pulling his head up so she could see his pained expression.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" Belle sneered, throwing his head back down. Belle placed her feet on his shoulder, pushing him on his back. Pointing her rifle at his head, she muttered. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you in the head?"

"Because you're a teacher, a mother, and a wife," a voice called out from behind her with a laugh. Belle slowly turned around, recognising the voice immediately.

"Howdy, Billy," Belle weakly smiled, her foot still pressed to the Sheriff's shoulder. "It's good to see ya, pal,"

"Howdy, Belle," Billy grinned down at the blonde woman. "Come on, we're heading out," Billy held out his hand to Belle, helping her up behind him on his horse. "Did this gentleman bother you, Mrs Scurlock?"

Belle nodded, placing her hands on Billy's shoulder. "Now, Sheriff, that ain't very gentleman-like of you?" And with that, Billy shot the man in the head. Laughing manically, Billy rode away, causing Belle's grip on his shoulders to tighten.

"Billy?" Belle rasped out, her breath was heavy. Billy hummed. "I think I'm gonna faint,"

And with that, Belle collapsed, her head falling back on her shoulders. Her grip loosened around Billy's collars, and her body fell down to the ground with a loud thud.

"Oh, shit!" Billy cursed, dismounting his horse hastily. He picked Belle's limp body up in his arms, placing her in front of him on his horse, locking her frail figure between the horse and his chest. And then, he continued his fast journey out of the destroyed town.