Disclaimer: All still apply.

SACRIFICES

(PART THREE)

Jesse's hand was on fire. Unable to bear the torture any more, he swallowed hard and nodded defeatedly. Guy lifted the receiver and held it to the doctor's ear. Finally released from Mitch's hold, Jesse lifted his shaking, injured hand and somehow managed to dial Steve's cell phone number, without hitting a wrong button.

He had no choice but to dial slowly, his hand was screaming agony and the broken fingers were already beginning to swell. Once this task was completed, Jesse listened to the ringing at the other end, silently hoping that his friend wouldn't answer. It wouldn't help his situation, but at least it would delay the moment of his betrayal. To his dismay, Steve answered after just four rings.

"Steve, it's Jesse." Guy rested his gun on the doctor's shoulder, as a constant threat.

"Jesse, where are you?" Steve's relief was evident in his voice. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"No, Steve. I'm not so good." His eyes fell to the notepad in front of him, the address where the ambush waited.

"Why? Jesse, what's wrong?"

"I can't talk now. I need you to meet me at..." He hesitated, appalled by what he was about to do. Guy tapped the gun lightly on his shoulder. "At one-forty-six..."

Jesse couldn't finish. He was luring the man he loved to his death. Luring him to face two armed men, alone and believing that it was only Jesse who waited for him. And he was doing it because Guy had threatened to break his fingers, to end his career. Steve's life, or his career. There was no competition.

"No, Steve!" He shouted suddenly. "It's somebody called Guy! He..."

He got no further as Guy brought the gun crashing down onto the back of his head and he slumped forward, unconscious.

*****

"Jesse? Jesse!" Steve yelled into the phone, even though he knew it was futile.

He'd heard Jesse say that it was somebody called Guy, then there had been a thud and moments later the phone had gone dead.

Steve had been on his way to work when the phone had rang, intending to personally head the search for the young doctor. He knew that his Captain might object to that, but he really didn't care. Now, after the aborted phone call, he cared even less.

Guy Patterson. It had to be him and Steve silently cursed himself for not paying more attention to the man's release from prison. He quickly dialled the station to inform his colleagues of the phone call he'd just received and he demanded all of the information that they had on Guy Patterson. As soon as he'd got it, Steve was racing towards the man's last known address. He knew that the solution was unlikely to be that simple, but it was better than doing nothing.

He cursed himself again as he drove, dangerously quickly, with sirens screaming. He could only imagine what his laxness, in not seeing Patterson as a threat, had cost Jesse. The young man's pain had been evident in his voice even over the phone line.

*****

Jesse awoke to absolute agony pounding through his head. Then the pain from his injured fingers kicked in and he moaned softly. His bound right hand hadn't allowed him to fall fully over the table and he was sat, slumped awkwardly. Slowly he raised his head.

"And just how stupid was that?" Guy's voice came from just behind his left ear. "You think by doing that you've saved your boyfriend's life? Guess again."

Guy picked up the telephone and Jesse bit his lip. He'd done what he could to try and help Steve, but it seemed like his captors had a contingency plan. He watched silently, as Guy pressed the re-dial button, then laid the receiver on the table.

Suddenly, Jesse found his left hand held, once again, in Mitch's solid grip. He tried to struggle, to curl his fingers into a fist and offer them at least a little protection, but he was no match for the thug. He heard Steve's voice, faintly, through the telephone receiver.

Then he could only watch in horror as Guy brought the butt of the gun crashing forcefully down. Once, twice, three times. Jesse screamed as his first two fingers shattered.

He wasn't even allowed the luxury of unconsciousness and the doctor in him couldn't understand that. He was in so much pain that he should have passed out, but he could only stare dully at his crippled hand and listen to Steve's voice screaming his name down the telephone.

Guy picked up the receiver.

"Come to one-forty-six Western Avenue," he said, ignoring the detective's pleas and questions. "You've got half an hour, or you'll be hearing him scream again."

As Guy hung up the phone, Mitch grabbed hold of Jesse's left arm and, ignoring his gasp of pain, secured it behind his back again. Once that was done, the two thugs dragged the chair away from the table and back against the wall, facing the door.

Jesse, by this time was shivering violently. He was feeling sick with the pain and knew that he was going into shock, but his captors still hadn't finished with him.

"I need to make sure that you've got Sloan's full attention when he gets here," Guy said, pulling a knife from his belt and advancing on the bound man.

"No, please," Jesse begged, fearful of being cut, of having to endure more pain. But what Guy had in store for him was somehow infinitely worse.

*****

Guy Patterson looked with disgust at the pale, trembling man tied to the chair. Ever since his time in jail, he'd hated them. Gays, queers, faggots. Whatever you wanted to call them, he hated them with a passion. And when he'd found out that Steve Sloan was that way inclined, it had made his revenge all the more sweeter.

But one thing he wasn't going to do was underestimate the detective. He knew that Sloan would enter the building cautiously, that was a cop's way, but he needed him to throw that caution to the wind if his plan was going to succeed.

That was where the doctor came in. Sloan would already be worried, having heard him scream, but he wanted more than just worry. He wanted Sloan to be so desperate to help his lover, that he would ignore everything else and rush blindly to help him.

So he stood over his captive, knife poised, and swallowed his distaste. He grabbed at the waistband of Jesse's shorts and, with two swift downward strokes of the knife, cut his last item of clothing off him. He ripped the ruined material out from under the young doctor, leaving him completely naked. Ever since he'd served his time, the sight of a naked man had sickened him, but this time it was different. This time, the sight gave him pleasure, as he imagined what Sloan's reaction would be.

"Well now," he sneered, his gaze locking onto Jesse's groin. "Wouldn't you have been a popular boy on the inside?"

He laughed and Jesse, silent tears streaming down his face, heard Mitch join in with the mocking laughter.

Forcing himself to look up, Jesse's wild gaze flickered between the two men, terrified of what else they might do to him, but needing to know where the next assault was coming from. Even though his vision was blurred by tears, he saw that something was not quite right with Mitch. The man's laughter had a forced quality to it and the look on his face was one of open disgust.

"Please..." Jesse latched on to this slightest of hopes and aimed his entreaty at Mitch, but the other man just turned away.

Anything else he might have said was prevented by Guy's fist crashing into his jaw. Jesse greyed out and when he once again became aware, his tormentor was reaching into his pocket.

"When you've quite finished," he muttered, pulling out a roll of tape. "We don't want you warning your boyfriend too soon now, do we?"

He tore a strip of tape off and fastened it firmly over Jesse's mouth. That done, Guy stepped back and looked at his handiwork critically. Then, seemingly as an afterthought, he tore off a second strip of tape and placed it over his captive's fearful, pleading eyes.

"Let's go," he said to Mitch.

And Jesse was once again left alone, but now with some new and unwanted fears. As desperate as he was to get out of there, he didn't want Steve to find him like that. How could he ever look him in the eye again, when he had been reduced to such total humiliation?

*****

Steve was driving like a maniac. Half an hour was barely enough time for him to get to the address he'd been given, but he was determined to make it. Jesse's agonised scream still reverberated around his head and he swore that he wasn't going to let the young man suffer any more.

He had no doubt that Patterson would carry out his threat and his stomach churned as he thought of what might have already happened, to make the young doctor cry out like that.

Steve had called his dad, knowing how worried he was, then he'd phoned the station. He'd given his colleagues the address that he'd been directed to, but knew that it was unlikely that anyone would get there in time to help him. He had blatantly ignored his Captain's order to wait for back-up.

I'm sorry, Jesse, he whispered to himself and then he could only pray that he would be able to apologise to the young man in person.

So Steve drove as fast as he'd ever driven in his life before, leaving blaring horns and angry drivers in his wake. His eyes constantly strayed to the clock on the dashboard, as it counted down the minutes with ridiculous speed. When twenty-five minutes had passed and he was nearing his goal, he kept glancing nervously to where his cell phone lay on the seat next to him, praying that it wouldn't start to ring.

He arrived at his destination with only seconds to spare. 146 Western Avenue was a nice, tidy detached house in a quiet neighbourhood. The front door stood ajar and Steve approached it slowly, knowing that it had to be a trap, but also knowing that he didn't have any time to waste looking for an alternative entrance.

His half hour was up and, as he moved, he was half-expecting to hear another blood-curdling scream, but thankfully none came. When he entered the house, he found himself in a reception area. There was a door on either side of him and a third directly opposite. That one stood slightly open and Steve knew that he was being led. He tried the two other doors anyway and was not surprised to find them locked.

Gripping his gun tightly in his right hand, he slowly approached the only avenue left open to him. Gently, he pushed the door open then stood, frozen in horror, by the scene that greeted him.

Jesse, his Jesse, was tied to a chair, gagged and blindfolded and completely naked. Steve shuddered to think of what the young man was going through. It was only a few weeks since he'd barely escaped being raped. This ordeal must have been terrifying for him.

As Guy had hoped would happen, everything else ceased to exist for Steve Sloan. He had to help Jesse. It was, after all, his fault that he was there. And he was hurt. As Steve got closer, he could see that blood had pooled underneath the chair.

He reached the captive's side and, holstering his gun, knelt next to him, tugging first at the blindfold, then at the gag. He couldn't help but notice the way the young man cowered away from him, nor the cry that escaped his lips as the tape was removed.

"It's okay, Jesse. It's me," he soothed. "It's okay, you're safe."

To his consternation, Jesse spared him only the briefest of glances, then turned his face away, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks.

"It's okay, Jess."

Steve kept talking as he got back to his feet and began to undo the bonds at Jesse's wrists. He barely managed to bite back a cry of horror when he saw the state of the doctor's bloodied, bruised and swollen left hand.

"Christ," he murmured. "What..?"

He never got to complete the question as, suddenly, he heard a noise behind him. He started to turn, caught a glimpse of a man he instantly recognised, a man who had been at the forefront of his mind for the past day, then he heard a shot. White hot pain bit through his right calf and he crashed heavily to the ground.

TO BE CONTINUED...