Disclaimer: All still apply.

SACRIFICES

(PART FOUR)

Steve didn't lose consciousness when the bullet tore through his leg, he couldn't afford to. He still had Jesse to look out for. Somehow, he managed to twist onto his back until he was facing the gunman, desperately trying to retrieve his own weapon.

It was only then that he realised that there were two men in the room, besides him and Jesse. One of them, the stranger, held a gun firmly trained on the still bound man.

"Nice and slowly," Guy said, gesturing needlessly with his gun. "Throw it over here."

Steve had no choice but to comply. As his weapon skittered away from him, he was left as helpless as Jesse. Guy stalked over to where he lay then, quite deliberately, stamped down on the bullet hole in his leg.

The detective bit down, hard, on his lower lip. He couldn't afford to show any sign of weakness, not when Jesse so obviously needed him. The young doctor was in serious need of medical attention and he would ignore his own pain, until he was sure that the man he loved was alright.

"You bastard," Guy spat, glaring down at the prone man. "You have no idea what you put me through."

He aimed the gun again and the second bullet tore through the fleshy part of Steve's upper right arm.

"Steve!"

Jesse couldn't help but cry out as his lover was shot for a second time. But Jesse was too close to where Guy stood. The former armed robber lashed out blindly and the muzzle of the gun caught the young doctor's temple a glancing blow.

Steve, lying helpless and in pain, felt physically sick as Jesse slumped forwards against his bonds. He forced himself into a half-upright position.

"Let him go," he gasped, clutching at his wounded arm. "You've got me, I'm who you want. Let him go."

"If only it were that simple." Guy fired for a third time and, this time, Steve did cry out as a bullet thumped into his thigh.

The detective's hands flew to the most recently inflicted wound, as he attempted to stop the sudden flow of blood. Guy instantly saw what he was trying to do and gestured Mitch over to him. Between them, they forced Steve onto his stomach. Guy had taken Steve's handcuffs from his belt and used them to secure his arms behind his back.

"Okay, now you and me are going to go for a little ride."

Guy hauled Steve to his feet and the detective somehow managed to remain upright, despite the fire in his calf and thigh.

"What about Jesse?" His concern was still only for the other man.

"Don't you worry about him." Guy smiled, nastily. "I'm going to leave him in my friend's very capable hands. I'm sure that Mitch will take very good care of him."

Steve looked nervously towards the other thug, not liking the implications of what Guy had said. What he saw did little to reassure him. Mitch was toying with his gun and staring at the doctor with an unreadable expression.

"Let's go."

Guy took a firm grip on Steve's arm and began to lead him from the room. Steve had no choice but to limp along after him. It was either that or be dragged. But he couldn't leave without sparing one last glance towards Jesse.

The young doctor was just beginning to stir and his eyes widened in horror when he saw what had happened.

"Jesse, I'm sorry." Steve had felt an overwhelming need to apologise now, just in case he never got the chance again.

"Steve..."

Then Guy tugged more firmly on his prisoner's arm and forced him out through the door.

*****

Left alone with Mitch, Jesse stared at his captor and, once again, noticed that the man did not seem entirely comfortable with the situation. He certainly wasn't enjoying himself, like Guy obviously was.

Jesse could easily guess why Mitch had been left behind with him and he also knew that it was up to him to save himself. And he was the only chance that Steve had. Fear threatened to overwhelm him as he thought of how Steve had looked, as he was half- dragged, bleeding heavily, out of the room. But he forced himself to push it to one side. He had to concentrate on survival, both his and Steve's.

"Have you ever murdered anyone before?" Jesse asked and, though his voice was hoarse, his tone was remarkably calm.

Mitch flinched when he spoke and the young doctor realised that he had been lost in thought. It seemed as though the thug was having second thoughts.

"Have you ever even been to prison?"

Mitch just stared at him and Jesse knew that the answer to both of his questions was no.

"He was right, you know." Jesse had sensed an advantage and pressed on. "Your friend, Guy. He was right about what happens on the inside."

At that moment, the doctor was horribly aware of his own nakedness and, while the last thing he wanted to talk about was rape, he knew he had to if he was going to stand any chance of getting out of the situation alive.

"Shut up." Mitch's voice was a strangled whisper. Jesse's words were starting to get to him.

"I'm a doctor and I've seen rape victims," Jesse continued, unperturbed. "Male rape victims..."

Mitch moved with lightning speed, crossing to where the captive sat. With one hand he grabbed hold of his chin, forcing his head up. The other held the gun, pressed firmly to his temple.

"I said shut up!"

Now was not the time to show fear. Even though he was trembling inside, Jesse forced himself not to flinch. He looked calmly into the eyes of the man who was threatening him.

"You'll get a life sentence if you kill me," he said. "That's a lot of days. A lot of nights."

For a brief, terrifying moment Jesse thought that he had gone too far. Real fear flashed across Mitch's features and his finger tightened on the trigger. But he thought he could hear sirens in the distance and the thought that help might be on his way gave him strength.

"And if your friend kills Steve, you'll be implicated in that, too."

"They won't catch me."

But Mitch's voice lacked any conviction, his words just token defiance. The sirens were getting louder and, while hearing sirens in the distance was nothing unusual in LA, the thug glanced nervously towards the door.

"Help me," Jesse said, as Mitch released his grip on him and just stood there hesitantly, seemingly caught in two minds. "Please."

*****

Guy dragged Steve out of 146 Western Avenue and all but threw him into the back of a dark grey van that had been parked next to the house. The detective landed heavily and almost passed out as new agony tore through his injuries.

In spite of his pain, Steve allowed himself the slightest of smiles. He'd noticed the van when he'd first pulled up for the rendezvous and, knowing that Guy might well use it to switch locations, had made a quick phone call on his way into the house. Every cop in LA would be looking for that van.

What he hadn't anticipated was him and Jesse being separated. And, when he thought of the situation that he'd left his young friend in, his smile abruptly faded.

A few moments later, the van started moving. Steve, lying bound on the floor had no way to protect himself as Guy took a corner too sharply and sent him crashing into one side of the van. The detective cursed loudly at the pain but then, on hearing a sadistic chuckle from the driver, vowed to show no further sign of weakness.

But, if he had thought the ride had been rough to begin with, it got immensely worse when he first heard a siren behind them.

Guy drove like a maniac, throwing Steve around in the back and continuously jarring his wounds. His hands, though cuffed, constantly groped for something to hold onto, to brace himself, but it was pointless. He was thrown around the back of the van like a rag-doll. As a last resort, he decided to try the voice of reason.

"Give it up, Patterson," he called, somehow managing to keep the pain out of his voice. "You won't get away. Make it easy for yourself."

"I'm not going back to prison," Guy spat back. "I'll kill us both before I do that."

And, if it were possible, his driving became even more manic.

*****

Back at the house, Mitch finally reached a decision. Tucking his gun into his belt he looked at the helpless doctor and shook his head.

"I'm not gonna kill you," he said, much to Jesse's relief. "But I'm not gonna hang around for them either."

"Just tell me, please, where did he take Steve?"

"Sorry, kid."

Jesse could only watch hopelessly as Mitch ran from the room. From the sound of the sirens, the cops were almost there, but that did little to reassure him. All he could tell them was that Steve was badly hurt and the prisoner of a homophobic madman called Guy.

The burst of adrenaline that had sustained him while he'd tried to reason with Mitch quickly wore off and Jesse's pain returned with a vengeance. That, coupled with the knowledge that he had been unable to help Steve, proved to be too much for him. As the sirens continued to get louder, he slumped against his bonds and wept.

A distant part of him was aware of the screech of tyres as cars pulled up outside. There was a lot of shouting and suddenly the room was full of people but, in spite of the commotion, Jesse still couldn't find the energy or the motivation to lift his head.

Somebody crouched beside him and the residual instincts from his ordeal caused him to flinch away.

"You'd better get Doctor Sloan in here."

Those words finally got through to Jesse and he looked up. There were half a dozen cops in the room with him and the young doctor was suddenly horribly and deeply ashamed. Someone was untying him, but even that barely registered through his embarrassment. Too many people had seen him, naked and vulnerable, and he felt as though every set of eyes in the room was trained only on him.

As the ropes at his wrists and ankles were released, Jesse jerked away from hands that were only trying to help him and scuttled to the farthest, darkest corner of the room and curled into a ball.

"It's okay." One of the cops was approaching him in much the same way he might approach a cornered animal. "You're safe."

But Jesse, his traumatised mind almost completely lost in panic, only shook his head and shrank further away.

"Doctor Sloan, thank God." The cop turned away, gesturing helplessly towards the man in the corner. "He won't let me get near him."

But Mark wasn't listening. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on his terrified young colleague. In one hand he held a blanket and he proffered it to Jesse silently, all the while edging closer to him.

Jesse snatched the blanket from him then, fumbling awkwardly, tried one-handed to wrap it around himself. Mark swiftly closed the rest of the distance between them and gently eased the thick woollen material around his slender shoulders.

His eyes fell to Jesse's left hand, the one he had so obviously avoided using, and he recoiled slightly when he saw the state that it was in.

"Jesse..." he began.

But the young man wasn't listening. Reaching out blindly, he grabbed hold of Mark's shirt front with his good hand.

"Make him tell you where he took Steve," he gasped, desperately. "Please, Mark. You've got to make him tell you where he took Steve."

TO BE CONTINUED...