The Major Incident

Chapter 12

Saturday 17.00 (4 days in).

The soldier looked down at the blond mans' unconscious body, then carefully stepped over it and went into the office at the end of the corridor. Snapping to attention he announced 'Sorry to disturb you Sir, but I've apprehended a man trying to get into your office'.

Sharpe got up from his chair and moved around his desk, to look down the corridor. Smiling grimly, he thanked the soldier. 'That would be Detective Hutchinson. I wondered how long he would last before he came looking for his partner. Its irritating that he's here so soon, but no matter. Major Starsky's treatment has been very effective and I think we should be ready to move to the next stage tonight. See to it that this one remains asleep, then go and prepare the Major for his reunion with his partner'.

The soldier nodded, stepping once again over Hutch's body, and going into the other room to call for help.

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Monday 6.00am

Both soldiers walked into the small cell where Starsky's body still remained on the floor where it had dropped. He hadn't moved, and one of the soldiers bent to check the pulse at the brunette's neck – the first physical contact Starsky had had with anyone other than the General in five almost six days. Content that the heart still beat, albeit rapidly, the soldier grabbed the battered body under one arm, his friend mirroring his action on the other side, and they raised Starsky into a standing position. Gradually, his breathing deepened, and the eyes fluttered open. He flinched as he eyed his two tormentors, but meekly walked with them as they lead him from the room.

Bracing himself against the wall of the shower cubicle, Starsky wondered what he had done to make his fortunes change. The hot water beat down on his battered and bruised body, knifing into the bruises and stinging the area between his legs where the alligator clips had dug into that most sensitive place. He still felt bone weary and was unsure he could actually stand without the aid of the wall, but the water felt good and he had been given a drink and some broth to eat. The soldiers still hadn't spoken to him, but he was beginning to forget what conversation was. He was happy for the moment to enjoy the small comforts afforded him.

The soldier motioned him from the shower, and obediently he stepped out, taking the course towel offered him. He cringed as he tried to dry his back and the rough material scraped over the burns there, and as he brought the towel away, he realised it was streaked with his blood. He struggled into the clothes handed to him and after fighting with the fabric, he was once more dressed in the army fatigues – the first time he had worn clothes in over five days.

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Hutch awoke slowly. His head pounded and his vision was blurred. He felt strain on the muscles of his arms and realised he had been strung up. His His His hands were bound together and pulled above his head, his feet barely touching the floor. His clothes had been stripped from him, and his pale skin seemed luminous in the light of the room. He tried to look around the room he was in, but could make out only that the walls were white and devoid of decoration. He was also aware there was a man dressed in army uniform standing slightly to the back of him. He shivered, feeling the cold, not only because of the low temperature, but also because he realised he had been right to worry.

The door opened and in strode General Sharpe. Hutch was just about to launch into a tirade about his treatment, when his breath was taken away by the sight of the General's companion.

Starsky walked unaided, but stooped slightly, the pain in his back, stomach and shoulders bending his body. However, he followed the much taller man and stood quietly as the General addressed Hutch.

'I hate impatience, Mr Hutchinson. It ruins plans and reduces my enjoyment. You are at least five days early. But you're here now, so we must make the best of a bad job, mustn't we?'

Hutch looked past him at his partner. 'You OK Starsk?' he said. Not only was Hutch shocked at the smaller man's appearance, but also at the look of complete hatred directed at him. My God, buddy. What have they done to you?

The General was once more talking and Hutch paid attention. 'Major Starsky has had a change of heart recently and wishes to put you in the picture about his new views on life'. The General took a step back and whispered in Starsky's ear. The dark haired man smiled and nodded. The General handed him an implement that looked like a police baton, and turned back to the bound blond.

'Major Starsky wishes to show you how he feels about your partnership and how it has affected him. Enjoy!' And with that he took a step back, allowing Starsky to come forward.

Hutch's breath hiked up a notch as he looked at his dark haired partner advancing on him.

'Starsk? Starsky, it's me Hutch. Starsk, do you recognise me?' he pleaded, trying to look into the indigo eyes he knew so well.

Those eyes stared back at him, burning with anger and hatred. Starsky smiled a thin smile, .advanced a little further, and swung a vicious punch at Hutch's abdomen, repaying him for the way he'd laughed at Starsky's pain and suffering. The blow felt good, and he wished to continue..

The effect was immediate, sending the breath whistling through the blonde's teeth. Hutch stared in disbelief. Once he'd regained some of his composure, he tried again. 'Starsky, it's me buddy, It's Hutch. Don't do this. They've messed with your head buddy. Starsk'.

This time, Starsky brought the electric cattle prod up, and with a smile on his face, held it against his friend's chest. Hutch's body convulsed against his bonds, as he tried to find some reason for his friend's actions.

Finally the pain ended and Hutch groaned, bringing his head up to look at the tormentor that had once been his best friend. It was a signal for the curly haired man to push the prod at him again, this time lower, on his abdomen. Over and over the metal was pressed against his body, until the pains seemed to flow one into the other and the room swam.

Throughout, Hutch had tried to reason with his friend, but to no avail, and soon, he had barely enough strength to hold himself up and wait for the next round of stimulation.

Starsky had pushed the metal against the flesh of the blond over and over, feelings of vindication flowing through him. But the dumb blond wouldn't shut up. He kept up a one way conversation, all the time asking him what he was doing and why.

Monday 9.00am

Starsky was tired of the talk. I'm doin' this for Alex and Ian, the guys you killed. I'm doin it for them Blintz. Wait. Blintz? Where did that come from? Who's Blintz? He looked over at the swinging form of the semi-conscious blond, and paused a moment. Did he call me Starsk? Do I know him? What did General Sharpe say? This man was in the war? No. I know him. How do I know him?

As Starsky came towards Hutch again, the tired blond thought he detected a difference in the demeanour. Was it his imagination? He was so tired, it could be nothing. As the cattle prod brought its burning pain to his side again, the taller man tried one last time and whispered 'Remember, Starsk. Me and Thee' as the final searing pain took away the last of his consciousness.

Something broke in Starsky at that moment. He looked at the body he had been torturing for the last three hours, and suddenly the images of the past five days cleared to be replaced by recognition, and regret.

Sharpe saw the change immediately and was quick to shout to his soldiers.

'That's it. We've lost him. Finish it and report back to me'.