Hi All,

Thanks for the reviews, as always, they mean a lot to me.

Warning: Some language, gross things, bad things and more craziness.

Chapter 6

Hutch listened, struggling to hear anything. The only sounds that made it this far into the mine was the sound of the helicopter landing and a short while later, departing. He wanted to cry. And he wanted to laugh too. Cry because help was so close and yet so far way. And laugh because crazy Peter hadn't killed those men. Hadn't killed Starsky. He had a strong feeling that his partner had been in that copter.

Ironically, he was slightly relieved that they hadn't found him. Especially since Peter had used Hutch's own dirty underwear to gag him. And it did gag him. He nearly puked several times, but he had restrained himself because otherwise, with the gag in the way, he could easily strangle on his own vomit. He really didn't want his coroner's report to read 'death by tighty-whities'. Provided they ever found him, that is.

All levity left him as the blond recalled how near to being rescued he was. Help had been so close, so, so close to him. Close to finding and helping him. But they hadn't. Hutch knew that he had to escape Peter's clutches on his own –somehow- and very soon. He couldn't bear it anymore. Couldn't bear the torture, mind games and couldn't bear the prospector's insanity.

He couldn't go on like this, not a minute longer. He knew he must escape.

The sound of footsteps approaching called Hutch back to the present. Bound as he was, there was nothing he could do until Bench freed him. His heart hammered wildly in his chest. What would happen when the man returned? He didn't have to wait long; Peter walked into the shaft and sat down on a rock.

The bound detective watched as Bench steepled his hands and rested his chin on the tips of his fingers, his gray eyes on Hutch. Peter did nothing for an agonizingly long time. After a while he pulled the grenade from his pocket and carelessly tossed it from one hand to the other. It was frightening and hypnotic.

Once Bench missed and it nearly hit the ground. He caught a scant inche before it hit the ground.

Hutch instinctively twitched and ducked his head, a futile effort to protect himself from the expected explosion.

The prospector laughed at his captive's reflexive movements and knelt down beside him, pulled out the now-sodden underwear out of the detective's mouth and wiped a bit of drool of his captive's chin.

"Well, you past that little test. So, do you wanna be my girl now? My wife never had any complaints. Well, at least not about the bedroom part of our marriage. I could treat you real nice. You liked it well enough before we were interrupted." The mad man dangled Hutch's underwear on one finger and slowly twirled it around.

Hutch was revolted, "Screw you!" he croaked out.

"Well, that's what I had in mind for you. Does that mean that you don't wanna be my girl?" Peter flung the underwear away, it landed somewhere out of Hutch's line of sight.

Unable to work up enough saliva to spit at the crazy bastard, Hutch had to settle for rasping, "No! Stay the hell away from me!" he tried to pull back away from the mad man, but his bonds didn't allow that much movement.

Peter shrugged. "I didn't really think you would. That's okay, I was born straight and I'll die straight. Speaking of dying…" he stood up and dug into his pocket and pulled out the hand grenade. He pulled the pin and dropped the grenade in front of Hutch, just out of reach. "Nice knowin' ya!" The man ran out of the mine laughing, leaving the helpless detective staring at the grenade.

Unable to move, Hutch gaped wide-eyed at the grenade and struggled for all he was worth to free himself. The ropes held firm. He continued his frenzied attempts to get free as the seconds ticked by. His heart hammered wildly against his chest wall, threatening to make a break for it. Hutch wished it good luck.

Time stood still as he waited for his end to come, questions blurred speedily through his brain. Would he hear the blast? Would he be able to feel himself being ripped to shreds? Or would he survive the blast, only to have the mine cave in and kill him? Still more time passed. How long did it take for a grenade to blow? Surely enough time had gone by, would it go off, or was it a dud?

His answer came moments later when Peter staggered into view.

The prospector was holding his sides and gasping with barely suppressed chuckles. He plopped down next to Hutch and picked up the grenade and playfully tossed it into the air and caught it. He stopped and looked at the detective "You should've seen the look on your face when I pulled that pin!" He gasped for air between hyena-like whoops of laughter. He wiped at his eyes, "Aw man, it was a Kodak moment!"

Peter playfully tossed the grenade in the air again and deftly caught it. "This thing's a dud, a hollowed out souvenir I picked up at some roadside dive." He snickered as he put the pin back in the dead grenade.

Bench scooted closer to Hutch, so his hip touched the blond's shoulder. "Now, let's just think about this for a moment… You coulda freed yourself, called out and right now –this very minute- you'd be a free man. But you didn't and you're still stuck with me. We're both still in the game and now I'm gonna up the anti." The crazy man checked the blond's ropes before continuing, his tone no longer jovial. "I used the last of our water to revive you earlier, so I hope you enjoyed it. Now the really interesting part of the game begins."

Upon hearing that the games would continue, Hutch strove to change the subject to distract the mad miner. "Why didn't you ask for some water from our visitors?"

Peter shook his head, "They might have gotten curious, started snooping around. Besides, it would have been cheating. Would've screwed up the whole game, can't have that, now could we?"

He's got a one track mind. Hutch thought. He didn't care what demented game Peter was playing. Knowing he couldn't win, he kept his mouth firmly shut and turned his head away, retreating from the madness the only way he could.

Peter grabbed a handful of hair and yanked up, hard. "Don't you look away from me when I'm talkin' to you! You damn well better listen-"

The detective jerked his head free of the prospector's grasp, losing a hank of hair in the process. When Peter reached for him again, angry and frustrated beyond words and without conscious thought, Hutch latched on to the man's hand with his teeth and bit down for all he was worth. He worried the flesh between his grinding pearly whites.

"Ow! Son of a bitch!" Peter bashed him in the head with the grenade.

Stunned by the hard blow, the blond released his toothy grip.

Peter backhanded him, "Biting? You just dropped down another notch, rich boy; now you're nothin' but an animal. And since animals don't need clothes," He gathered Hutch's belongings and rolled them into a bundle and tucked them under his arm. "You won't be needing these any longer." He picked up the lantern and left Hutch in the dark, laying on the hard stone floor of the mine, naked, sweating and seething with rage.

Fishborne's office, day 11

"C'mon sheriff, just one more day, huh? What d'ya say?" Starsky wheedled, applying every bit of charm that he could muster. He had been at the poor man for ten minutes now and could see by Fishborne's posture he was about to give in. The official, full-scale search for Ken Hutchinson was over. But that didn't mean by any stretch that the brunet was done looking. His gut kept telling him -in no uncertain terms- that Hutch was still alive.

"Detective, I can't keep doing this. Taking the copter out costs money-"

"Hutch is my best friend as well as my partner. Would you give up searching for your best friend after only eleven days?" Starsky argued, leaning in close to make his point.

Fishborne dropped his face into his hands and held that position for several seconds before slowly raising his index finger. "Just one more day, alright? One!"

Starsky smiled.

XXXX

Bench's mine, day 11

Hutch had slept fitfully that night, tied to a rock in the bowels of the gold mine. Unable to move more then a few inches, and lying on a bed of rough-hewn stone, this ranked as the second most uncomfortable night. Just below the time he was trapped under his car with a broken leg. The only thing keeping it from being the worst, most uncomfortable night, was the fact that Peter would free him in the morning to work in his fucking mine.

As expected, in the morning the mad prospector had released him and was now holding him at gunpoint as Hutch hammered away in the rock wall.

Before today, he honestly didn't think there was any way to make mining any more horrible. He'd been wrong, naked mining was far worse. The sharp shards of rock bounced away and hit his unprotected fresh. Stones under foot poked and cut his bare feet and he had stubbed all of his toes by noon. He wanted nothing more but to stop, lie down and rest, but with Bench holding a gun on him, he had no choice but to keep at it.

Peter was now his constant companion. He didn't let Hutch out of his sight. Not even when nature called. It was degrading and humiliating.

And through it all –day in and day out- Larry the vulture sat on the roll bar of the jeep and watched.

TBC