Chapter 14 - Apologies, people, for this chapter. I do you hope you have strong stomachs!

The salty tang of sea air was the first thing that alerted Ethan Quade to the fact that he wasn't at home in his own bed – that and the fact that just about every part of his body hurt to some degree. He couldn't recall feeling this bad in…. well he didn't know how long. Loss of memory will disorientate a person in oh so many small ways. Suffice it to say he couldn't remember feeling this bad since he'd woken up in the hospital over a month ago. Then he'd had nice clean white sheets, drugs galore and pretty nurses to look after him and tend to his wounds.

Wounds.

That one word brought Quade's mind into focus. He must have a hell of a lot of them right now. His ribs and especially that damned fourth rib were protesting the fact that he had to breathe. They gave him a dull persistent ache and then, just for variety hit him with a high, pinching pain that left him panting. That set off the ache in his head even more and stopped him from shaking his head to clear it.

Further out in his body, the brunet realised that he could no longer move his arms and for a moment he wondered if he was still in the pit and somehow had become paralysed. Out of sheer curiosity tinged with a smidgeon of fear, he tried to twitch his fingers and discovered that far from being paralysed, his arms were secured high above his head, putting further tension on his already aching chest. The realisation of the position of his arms also caused the brunet to focus on the other parts of his body. He was sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him and his back, which hurt almost as much as his chest was resting back against something hard and rough – tree?

Movement in front of him made the bound man open his eyes finally and his gaze fell upon his arch enemy squatting down on the ground in front of him. Hunt seemed intent on doing something at the centre of Quade's body and the brunet looked down, trying to stifle the groan that sprang to his lips. The sight took away his breath and he closed his eyes fast, breathing rapidly so much that he was in danger of hyperventilating.

The sight brought the pain.

The front of his cut off shorts was drenched in blood. The zipper on his shorts had been pulled down and his family jewels were exposed to the air, his cock lying bloody and limp on the red soaked material. From the centre of his body, sticking up sickeningly from his scrotum was a large and equally bloody shard of wood. Hunt was examining it carefully and at the sounds from the bound man he looked up into pain clouded but angry indigo blue eyes.

Something welled up inside Quade's chest. The pain, the blood and the sight of that most sensitive part of his anatomy speared by a huge splinter was too much for the damaged man and he lurched sideways as much as he could against his bonds and threw up the meagre contents of his stomach onto the ground, aiming at Hunt. The blond man swore and pushed himself backwards but not fast enough to avoid the vomit splattering against his shoes. Hunt stood up and backhanded Quade across the face hard, leaving a fresh and bloody cut just beneath Quade's right eye. A small trickle of blood started to make its way down the smaller man's face and he licked at it, his eyes never leaving Hunt's face.

The brunet grunted and spat blood onto the ground. 'That the best you got?' Quade panted, looking up at his adversary silhouetted against the bright sunshine.

'Shuddup pervert' Hunt snarled. 'Or do you enjoy pain?'

'I'll tell you when I feel some.'

'That can be arranged.' Hunt squatted down again, careful to avoid the pool of vomit and looked Quade in the eyes. Quade returned the gaze defiantly, determined some way to get free and finish what he'd started. Slowly, and with the utmost care, Hunt reached down and touched the splinter sticking out of the front of Quade's pants. A shiver ran through his body as he saw the ghost of fear run behind Quade's eyes although they never wavered from returning his gaze.

Fine, if that was how the bastard wanted it! He took a hold of the splinter and waggled it slowly from side to side.

The effect was instant. Quade's eyes bulged and his face drained of colour. Muscles stood out in cords on the bound man's arms and his whole body lifted off the ground as he tried to shy away from the terrible pain. Quade felt as though the world were being ripped from the centre of his body and although he hated himself for his weakness, he screamed out into the trees an animalistic cry that ended in a grunt as his head fell forwards onto his chest.

Hunt let go of the splinter. The effect had been more dramatic than even he had hoped for and now he'd got his wish. He had Quade at his mercy and he could make the curly headed man suffer just as Quade had made his sister suffer before he killed her. Grabbing a handful of sweat soaked curls, Hunt yanked the smaller man's head back. Quade's eyes opened blankly fluttered and focussed. Hate shone behind them.

'Was that enough?' Hunt asked coldly.

Quade panted roughly, the breath whistling through his throat. His jaw muscles worked as though he was trying to bring his body back under control and then he gave the smallest of smiles. 'Yeah……hurts.'

'Want some more?' Hunt asked, although truthfully he didn't know if he could do that again. He had longed for this moment. He'd dreamed of it; of having Quade tied at his feet so that he, Hunt could reign down retribution on his sister's rapist and killer. He'd dreamed of what he'd do to Quade. Every waking moment since O'Malley had told him they'd found Quade had been filled with designs to make Quade hurt as much as possible. It wasn't enough to merely kill the man. Hunt had wanted him to suffer before the slowest death he could think of. The fact that the splinter had pierced the organ that had caused his sister's downfall seemed somehow fitting.

So why was he hesitating? What was it that stopped him from twisting that splinter again and watching Quade's body dance at the end of his bonds? Hunt couldn't identify what he was feeling but those few words – yeah, hurts – held a profound meaning for the blond. For one second he had a mental picture of an alleyway strewn with garbage. An iron fire escape. A stone step. He could almost feel a head buried in his chest and a pain roughened voice mumbling. 'Hurts….oh god it hurts.'

Hunt withdrew his hand from Quade's body as though he would be burned if he touched it again. He struggled to deal with the flashback. What was it about this man? He'd never met him before. He'd cultivated a healthy hate for him since he'd been told what Quade had done to his sister and yet now he felt sick to his stomach that he'd hurt him so badly.

Quade took advantage of the brief reprieve. 'Wha's a matter? No zest for the job?'

'Shuddup, or do you want a bruise on the other side of your face to make a matching pair.'

'It don't look like you got the stomach for it ya yellow bellied bastard' Quade spat out. 'You're no good without a pack of dope in your back pocket.'

Hunt looked up quickly. 'Dope? What're ya talkin' about? I don't do dope.'

'Sure. Ok, try speed, horse, one of the others.'

Hunt sat back on his heels wondering what the curly haired man was talking about. 'You don't even know me.'

'My brother did.'

'Brother? Who's your brother?'

Quade tried to move, winced and glared once again at his attacker. 'Chris? Chris Quade. The guy you helped put in jail where he died after bein' raped till he bled to death.'

This time Hunt's fist balled and drew back but something stopped him from landing the blow. 'I have no idea what you're talkin' about. I don't know no addict and I didn't know about you till a few days ago. Right when I found out what you did to my sister.' As he said it, something seemed odd and yet at the same time right. He was doing this to revenge his sister – the one who Quade had raped and left to die. His sister….. God he couldn't even remember her face and yet the burning urge for revenge was so strong in him that it overwrote any kind of sensible thought.

Quade too was pausing but in Quade's mind he was just waiting for the moment when he could get free and finish what he'd started. Ignoring the pains in his body the brunet inched his feet further around so that they lay closer to Hunt's legs. Hunt seemed not to notice, his mind seemed elsewhere and on a completely different planet. Without taking his eyes from Hunt's face Quade inched closer and closer to his target. The movements hurt, especially in the centre of his body and he concentrated on not making pain noises in his throat.

Still trying to get his thoughts into some kind of order, carelessly Hunt wasn't watching Quade. Maybe he was content that the curly haired man was so badly hurt and so well tied that he wasn't going anywhere. Maybe he was just trying to make some sense of the situation he found himself in. Maybe….just maybe he was beginning to question what he was doing here.

Hunt grunted and started to turn on his heels back towards his captive. Several things happened at the same time. Hunt half turned and in doing so his knees parted giving Quade the target he'd been looking for. Despite the pain burning through his body, Quade gathered all his strength and aimed a kick at the centre of Hunt's body. His sneakered foot connected although there wasn't as much power behind the blow as Quade would have liked. The effect was instantaneous. Hunt gave a strangled scream and grabbed at his balls, his face reddening. He fell backwards but was too far away for Quade to land another kick. Hunt rolled onto his back and continued to hold the centre of his body as the breath wheezed from between his teeth and seconds later he came to his knees, his face red and his eyes blurry with tears of pain.

Quade watched his adversary roll in pain with some satisfaction but as Hunt recovered and the brunet saw the look on his captor's face he suddenly realised he may well have made a big mistake. Hunt launched himself at Quade straddling his legs, his hands reaching instinctively for Quade's neck. He reached it and his hands closed over the jugular, eyes inches away from Quade's face, beads of sweat raising on his upper lip.

Quade closed his eyes. He'd lost, he knew he had and now he was going to have Hunt's face as the last thing he ever saw on earth. The brunet closed his eyes and with one final burst of energy he brought his knee up fast and hard delivering a second blow to Hunt's balls. Hunt screamed again losing his grip on Quade's neck. He staggered to his feet clutching at the family jewels. He reached for the huge knife he'd brought with him, determined to finish the bastard once and for all.

Coldly Hunt stood in front of the bound man on the ground the tip of the blade inches from Quade's throat. Quade stared back, defiant to the last but his eyes were narrowed in pain and his chest rose and fell quickly, his breathing constricted by the position of his arms.

Positioning himself for the killing blow Hunt took his stance. 'Any last words?' he asked icily.

If he was going to go, he'd do it in a blaze of glory, goading his attacker till the bitter end. 'Took ya long enough….' Quade mumbled, his eyes clouding and half closed. A drop of sweat dripped from a curl to land on the brunet's cheek and with that drop Hunt stopped.

Si-mon….Si-mon.

The old zoo.

Old musty smelling cages.

A huge aviary on a hill and a man dangling by his wrists from the centre of the ironwork.

A raised curly head.

A look of pain behind indigo eyes.

A chill ran down Hunt's back and his hand convulsed around his blade. He took a stronger hold of the hilt and breathed deep. He could do this – he could! The tip of the blade hovered millimetres from the olive toned throat whilst Quade glared back angrily. The blade slipped and a small red rimmed wound appeared on Quade's neck. Blood trickled down and Quade flinched, expected the coup de grace. A small yelp escaped the brunet's lips and his head fell forwards.

I got ya buddy. I got ya.

A familiar voice sounded in Hunt's ears although he didn't know where it had come from, but it shook his resolve more than any amount of pleading could have. With a yell of anguish and confusion Hunt threw down the knife, staggered back and ran from the small clearing leaving Quade tied to the tree wondering what the hell had just happened.