Author's Note: This chapter contains violence and some blood.
Chapter 11: Consequences
Peter woke up with a start. He wasn't really sure why he'd woken up, but it didn't take him long to figure out. A strange man hovered over him pointing a gun in his face. Peter froze in terror.
"I said get up," the man growled. Peter did as the man asked raising both hands in the air in surrender. The man motioned for Peter to walk out the door, so Peter led the way out. "Get downstairs with your friend." Peter looked downstairs and saw Mike being tied to a chair by another goon. This one he recognized as the man that had pulled the gun on them in the parking lot a few days before. It was one of Tony's friends. Peter remembered that Micky had called him Freddie. He felt the gun in his back and made his way down the stairs and sat next to Mike, who looked at him with fear and worry etched on his face. Neither of them saw Micky, Davy or Rose.
"Did you find anyone else?" the goon who had woken Peter asked Freddie, who now began tying Peter to the chair.
"No," Freddie answered.
"Tony's not gonna be happy."
"Probably not, but he'll make Dolenz tell him where she is." Peter felt his heart sink. What exactly were they going to do to Micky? Mike and Peter jumped when they heard a loud crash coming from Micky's room. They turned to see Tony yank open the door and throw Micky in a heap at the top of the stairs.
"He's crippled," Tony laughed. "Can't even walk on his own." Tony threw Micky's crutches over the railing for emphasis. Peter could only watch in horror as Micky tried to push himself up and fight back, but Tony only laughed and kicked him. Peter and Mike both winced as Micky let out a pained cry. "Did you find her?" Tony asked his goons.
"She's not here," Freddie answered. "Neither is the fourth boy. We checked all the rooms, closets and bathrooms. Only found this one sleeping over there." He smacked Mike on the back of the head for emphasis before pointing to Mike and Davy's room they now shared.
"This one was asleep too," said the third goon. Peter braced himself to get hit too, but he didn't. Tony knelt down in order to get lower to Micky's face.
"Where is she, Micky?" he sneered. Peter heard Micky mumble something about where Micky thought Tony should go. This only made Tony angry, though, and he grabbed Micky by the back of his hair, lifting him up. Micky looked like he was in a lot of pain, and Peter tried to struggle to loosen the bonds holding his hands together. If he could get his hands free, he could untie the ropes holding his arms to the chair and help. Tony asked Micky again where Rose was, but when Micky didn't answer, he pushed him off the second floor. Peter heard Micky land with a thud and Micky cried out in pain.
"Micky!" Peter and Mike both exclaimed. Mike now began vigorously struggling against his ropes, causing him to get smacked in the head again.
"Cut that out!" Freddie barked. Micky groaned in pain as he tried to push himself up again, but Tony reached him before he could. Tony picked him up by the arm and dragged him over to a third chair that Freddie had put in the middle of the room. Peter continued to struggle against the ropes that held him, but tried to be as discreet as he could about it. After seeing Mike get smacked for trying to free himself, Peter didn't want to draw attention to himself and get hit, too. So he slowly moved his hands, turning his wrists trying to stretch the ropes out enough to slip his hand free. Peter watched as Tony lifted Micky into the chair and instructed Freddie to tie him up too.
"I'm really not going to keep asking you this," Tony said, grinning sadistically at Micky. "I know she came here. I know you are taking care of her. Even though that's my job."
"Well, you were doing a bad job of it, so she fired you," Micky snapped. Peter thought sarcasm and wit probably wasn't a good idea right now, but kept his mouth shut. Sure enough, Tony slapped Micky across the face.
"Stop it!" Mike exclaimed. "Leave him alone!"
"Oh, and you're going to stop me?" Tony laughed, now turning on Mike. Peter focused harder on freeing his hands, afraid of where this was going. It pained him to see his friends being hurt like this. When they'd been in situations like this before, they'd always been cowardly and done as their captors wanted, like when they were told to steal that weird Maltese vulture. This time was different. This time a life was one the line. The life of someone they'd all grown to care about, so they weren't going to tell Tony anything about where she was.
"Let Micky go," Mike said through gritted teeth.
"I'll let him go, as soon as one of you tells me where my fiancé is."
"She's not your fiancé anymore," Micky snapped. "She knows the kind of person you really are, and she hates you. I'm not going to let you anywhere near her."
"We'll see about that," Tony said, the sadistic smile plastered on his face again. Peter could only watch as Tony punched Micky in the face. Mike began struggling against his ropes again and Peter tried to quietly tell Mike to stop because it would only cause him to get hit again. It was too late, however, as Freddie came back over to Mike and this time hit him with the butt of his gun. Peter winced and watched Mike go limp.
"I told you not to do that," Freddie told an unconscious Mike.
"Mike!" Micky cried out. Peter looked back over at him and noticed that Micky had gone completely pale, and there was a small amount of blood coming from his nose. Peter's resolve was even more set. He had to free his hands, but he wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do after that. With Mike knocked out, it was three goons against Peter. Peter looked around for a possible weapon to use, but nothing really sprang to mind. He was a pacifist, really. He hated hurting people. But Tony and his goons had backed him into a corner. He didn't think that Davy and Rose would be at the stables for that long, and feared that if they came back in the middle of this…he didn't even want to think about it. His eyes landed on a pot sitting on the table next to him. It was heavy and solid. Surely he could hit these guys with it, but they had guns. With bullets. He wouldn't be any good to his friends with a bullet wound. He'd have to plan whatever he did very, very carefully. He kept his eye and ear on everything else that was going on as he formulated his plan.
"Let them go," Micky pled. "They have nothing to do with this."
"They've seen my face," Tony said. "If there's one thing I learned from my night in jail, it's not to leave any witnesses. Thank you for that, by the way, Micky. I think it's safe to assume that it was you who told the good little doctors that were tending to my girl that I hit her. I warned you to stay away. You didn't listen to me and she ended up in the hospital."
"She ended up in the hospital because of you," Micky spat. "You kicked her. You killed your own child." Peter could almost feel the anger radiating from Tony. He looked at Micky, trying desperately to tell him to stop antagonizing Tony, but Micky wasn't looking at him. Peter winced when Micky took another punch. Peter couldn't watch this anymore. He felt sick to his stomach. But he never once stopped wiggling and twisting his wrists against his restraints.
Suddenly Mike groaned a little as he started to wake up. Peter looked over at him. There was a small trickle of blood coming out of Mike's hair, but at least Mike was waking up. None of the goons saw this, however, as they were watching Tony continue to hit Micky. Peter thought if they didn't hear him groaning, they probably wouldn't hear if Peter whispered to Mike. They were close enough, that he was sure Mike would hear him.
"Mike," he whispered. Mike looked at him, a little confused. "Don't struggle. Don't talk. Don't fight. Please." Peter was almost free of his ropes and didn't want Mike to draw any more attention to either of them. Peter assumed that since they thought Mike was unconscious and Peter hadn't said anything nor struggled the whole time, they didn't see either of them as a risk worthy of their attention. Peter was going to use that to his benefit.
"Freddie, go out front and wait for Rose and the other boy to come back," Tony instructed. "He'll probably be with her." Peter felt a small amount of glee cross over him. They were lowering the score in Peter's favor. Now he just had to worry about two men. When Freddie closed the front door, Peter felt himself get even looser. Mike was starting to come around further, and seemed to remember what was going on.
"Mike, don't!" Peter hissed as Mike started to struggle. Mike looked at him puzzled, but stopped.
"Don't hurt her," Micky muttered. Peter could see he was going very weak. His lip was bleeding and his eye was swollen shut. "You hurt her, and I'll kill you."
"Shut up," Tony spat. "There's nothing you can do to me." For emphasis, Tony kicked Micky's bad ankle, causing Micky to scream in pain. Peter felt sick again, but forced himself to stay focused. Mike cried out a little, but it was masked by the combination of Micky's scream and Tony's laughter. Peter hissed at Mike once again to be quiet, and suddenly felt one of his hands slip out of his bonds. He was free! Partly. He quickly waved at Mike to show him he was free and silently pled for him to not make a noise. His plan would fail if they turned around and saw him. Peter was banking on Tony not having a gun on him as he slipped his other hand free. Carefully and quietly, he pulled the ropes off his chest and arms tying him to the chair. He reached for the cast iron pot sitting on the table and quietly crept up to the goon who so rudely woken him up. He also hoped Freddie was far enough away from the house so he wouldn't hear the commotion. He knew however, that Tony would hear the sound of the pot being brought against his goon's head.
Sure enough, as soon as the pot made contact, Tony whirled around to face Peter. Peter had anticipated this, and leapt out of the way as the goon crumpled to the ground and Tony lunged for him. This is where he hadn't had a chance to work out the rest of the plan, so he'd have to wing it. He ran toward the stairs, but hadn't anticipated Tony grabbing his goon's gun.
"Peter, look out!" he heard Mike and Micky yell in unison just before the sound of the gun being fired in his direction. He ducked just in time, and the bullet whizzed over his head. Freddie had to have heard that, so Peter had to think fast. All he could think of was playing baseball as a kid and threw the pot as hard as he could at Tony like a pitcher throwing a baseball. Tony ducked, but the pot still nicked him. It wasn't enough to knock him out, but it did disorient him a little. Peter took this opportunity to rush Tony and tackle him to the floor. He landed one good punch in the face and knocked Tony out.
Peter now sat on top of an unconscious Tony, breathing hard. It had all happened so fast, he still wasn't really sure what happened. He briefly forgot about his friends and all he could think of was the unconscious man below him. Peter had actually hurt someone else. Two people. Hurt them enough to knock them unconscious. He was afraid of himself now, and slowly got up.
"Peter," Mike said, snapping him back into reality. "Can you untie me before Freddie comes back please?" Peter rushed over to untie Mike, which he did just in time. The door swung open and Freddie barreled in. Mike and Peter both rolled to the side as once again, they were being shot at. They dove behind the stairwell to avoid the bullet. "Distract him." Mike whispered to Peter.
"What?" Peter asked.
"Distract him!" Peter didn't have time to question Mike further, as he heard the gun go off again. The bullet hit the staircase. Peter dove from behind the staircase, hoping to draw the fire from the gun wielding maniac. It worked. Freddie followed Peter with his gun and fired again. Peter once again felt a bullet whiz by his head. He was getting tired of being shot at. He ran to the opposite end of the house and dove behind the TV as he saw Freddie take aim again. He heard the sound of a gunshot, but didn't feel or hear the bullet. He peaked from behind the TV and saw Freddie on the ground now, blood coming from his knee, screaming in pain. Peter stood up, thoroughly confused. Then he saw Mike standing in the kitchen with a gun in his hand. He looked white as a sheet, obviously also a little freaked out that he had just shot a person. His hand was quaking a little bit and Peter walked over to him.
"Put the gun down, Mike," Peter said calmly. Mike dropped it like it was something rotten in his hand.
"Guys," Micky croaked a little. "Can you maybe tie them up and call the cops or something before they wake up?" Peter had forgotten all about the two unconscious men on the floor, and jumped into action at Micky's words. He made sure to do a better job at tying up their attackers than they had of him. Then he moved to untie Micky. Mike was already on the phone with the police.
"Cops and medics are on their way," Mike said as he came over with a dishcloth to wipe the blood from Micky's face. The ropes must have been the only thing holding Micky in the chair, because as soon as Peter untied him, Micky fell forward out of the chair. Mike caught him and the two lowered Micky to the ground.
"I'm so sorry, guys," Micky moaned.
"Don't apologize," Mike said. "It's not your fault. I'm just glad they came when Davy and Rose were out."
"They should have been back by now though," Peter said frowning a little. "I'm worried."
"You know how Davy is when he gets around horses," Mike said. "They probably lost track of time. I'm kinda glad they did, though. Who knows what would have happened if they had been here."
"They'd have killed us instead of torturing us," Micky croaked.
"Probably," Peter mumbled. The sound of approaching sirens was music to Peter's ears. Seconds later, the cops entered the house. Mike waved over to the still unconscious men who were tied up next to Freddie, still grabbing his leg.
"Those are the men who attacked us," Mike said.
"Is there anyone else in the house?" one of the officers asked while two more moved throughout the house looking for other people.
"No, just us and them."
"Did you shoot him?"
"I didn't want to. I had to. He was shooting at us. He was trying to kill us."
"Alright, calm down, son," the officer said. The other cops came back into the living room and holstered their guns, reporting that the house was clear of any other people. Two ambulances pulled up outside the house, and several paramedics rushed in. One knelt by the wounded Freddie, one knelt by Tony and his goon who were now starting to wake up. The cops untied the men and put handcuffs on them instead. Another two medics knelt by Micky, Peter and Mike.
"He was beat up pretty bad," Peter said.
"We'll get him to the hospital," the medic said to him. "Don't worry. The two of you should go too."
"We aren't hurt," Mike stated.
"Your head is bleeding, Mike," Peter said, pointing to the trail of blood on his face.
"I am?" Mike started to touch his head, but then reached out to grab Peter's forearm. "So are you." Peter looked at his wrists. Mike was right; his wrists were raw and bleeding a little. He realized he must have done this while struggling against the ropes. He didn't even feel any pain from it, probably because he was more concerned about his friends and his adrenaline was rushing.
"Those need to be looked at by a doctor, young man," the medic repeated. "They don't look terribly bad, but they could easily get infected."
"I'm more worried about Micky," Peter admitted.
"You friend will be taken care of, but that doesn't mean that you can't be seen, too. Both of you."
"What happened!?" cried Davy's voice as he and Rose ran into the house. The police stopped them before they could get all the way into the house though.
"It's ok, they're our friends," Peter said. The police let them the rest of the way in. Rose looked from Tony to Micky still lying on the ground, a bloody and bruised mess and her face when completely slack.
"Micky!" she cried and rushed to kneel by him. Davy ran over to them as well.
"Tony was looking for you," Mike answered.
"We didn't tell him anything," Peter added. The medics were carrying in two stretchers, one for Micky and the other for Freddie. Peter watched them load Freddie onto his stretcher and the police led the other two out to their squad cars. Once the medics had loaded Micky onto a stretcher, they turned to Mike and Peter again.
"You two should come in the ambulance with us," the one who had spoken to them before said while his partner pushed Micky towards the empty ambulance. Peter opened his mouth to argue, but Davy stopped him.
"They will," he told the medic before turning to Mike and Peter. "You guys get in that ambulance. Rose and I will follow you in the car." Davy grabbed Rose's hand and pulled her with him out into the car. She was protesting that she wanted to stay with Micky, but Davy convinced her to go with him. "You'll be with Micky soon enough. This is the only way to make sure Mike and Peter go to the hospital." Peter shook his head and reluctantly followed the stretcher carrying his friend into the ambulance. Mike stepped in just after him followed by the medic.
The medic began working before Peter even felt the ambulance move. He took gauze pads down and began to clean the blood off Micky's face. Peter noticed for the first time that Micky's eyes were closed. Worry ripped through him. Peter watched as the medic worked to help Micky. Once the medic had cleaned Micky up as best he could and had put an IV in him with some sort of medication, he turned to Mike.
"He's still passed out," Mike protested.
"There's nothing more I can do for him," the medic reasoned. "I gave him something to reduce the swelling and the pain. The doctors will take over when we get to the hospital." Mike reluctantly allowed the medic to clean his face up and inspect the wound on his head. "Doesn't look too bad. Doubt it'll even need stitches." Before he could turn to assist Peter, they were at the hospital. Peter climbed out with Mike first and the other medic who had driven came around to the back door to help his partner unload Micky. Two nurses and a doctor were already waiting for them. One nurse went with the doctor taking Micky into a back room, but when Mike and Peter tried to follow, the nurse stopped them.
"He'll be fine," she said directing them to a side room. "You'll be able to see him in a while. In the meantime, we need to take care of your injuries." Another doctor followed her into the room, and Peter recognized him as Dr. Hartman who had taken care of Micky earlier.
"I had hoped not to see you boys again," Dr. Hartman said.
"Rose's ex found us," Mike said. "He tried to make us tell him where she was and we refused. He got angry."
"I can see that," Dr. Hartman said. Peter noticed that a new trail of blood was dripping down Mike's head. "Sit down and let me have a look." Mike reluctantly sat on the bed Dr. Hartman had indicated. Dr. Hartman had to stand on a stool to get a good look at the top of Mike's head. "What happened here?"
"I don't really remember," Mike muttered.
"He got hit with a gun," Peter supplied. "Then passed out."
"He lost consciousness?" Dr. Hartman asked. "Are you nauseated at all, Mr. Nesmith?"
"Not really," Mike answered.
"Do you have a headache?"
"Yeah. It's not that bad though."
"Squeeze my fingers." Dr. Hartman held out two fingers on each hand, which Mike squeezed. "Ok, now try and push down on my hands." Mike complied. "Push up." Mike complied again. "Doesn't appear to be any muscle weakness. How long was he out, Mr. Tork?" Dr. Hartman now shined a light in each of Mike's eyes, testing his pupil response.
"Not long," Peter answered. "Maybe a couple minutes."
"I don't think there's anything more than a concussion here, but let's get some imaging done just in case." He now turned to the nurse standing there. "Tanya, can you take him down to imaging while I treat Mr. Tork?" Tanya nodded and motioned for Mike to follow her. Peter smiled at Mike as he looked back at him. "Ok, Mr. Tork, sit down and tell me what happened here."
"My hands were tied together," Peter explained as he sat down where Mike had just been. "I twisted my hands in the rope trying to free myself. Guess the guy didn't tie me well enough, and I was able to stretch the rope enough to slip out."
"Does it hurt?" he asked as he inspected Peter's wrists.
"Not really," Peter admitted. He knew he had a high tolerance for pain, but he also knew part of it was the adrenaline rush. "I have been more focused on other things. First Micky, then not getting shot at, now Mike and Micky."
"Your friends are going to be fine. It appears Mike just has a slight concussion, and Micky's injuries don't appear that serious. I'm going to clean these. Come over to the sink." Peter followed the doctor to the sink in the room. Dr. Hartman grabbed a brown bottle off the counter and unscrewed the cap. Peter assumed it was hydrogen peroxide and that the doctor was going to pour it over Peter's wrists, so he held his hands over the sink. The doctor took some gauze pads first and tried to soak up the blood and other liquids Peter didn't want to think about from his wrists. Peter was now starting to feel a little pain as the doctor applied pressure. When the doctor finally did pour some of the peroxide on Peter's wrists, pain shot through his whole arm. He inhaled deeply through his teeth and clenched both fists together, trying really hard not to rip his hands away from the stream of peroxide.
The doctor finally finished and motioned for Peter to sit back down. The doctor told Peter to sit still and that he'd be back momentarily before exiting the room. He came back moments later with two gauze rolls, scissors, tape, and a tube of some sort of cream. He told Peter that the cream was an antibiotic as he applied it around both of Peter's wrists. Then he very carefully wrapped the gauze rolls around Peter's wrists. When he had finished, Davy and Rose were waiting outside the room. The doctor told them it was ok for them to enter and they both came in, their expressions full of worry. Davy's eyes landed on Peter's wrists, now both completely bandaged.
"I'm fine," he said, though he was still feeling the pain from the peroxide. "Just a scratch."
"Liar," Rose said.
"Where are Mike and Micky?" Davy asked.
"Mike went to get some tests done on his head," Peter answered. "I don't know what they did with Micky."
"The other doctors are taking care of him," Dr. Hartman explained. "They are going to need to get some images of his face and head. X-rays, MRI's stuff like that. Make sure he has no broken or fractured bones or anything, but I don't foresee any major problems that won't be able to heal."
"When can we see him?" Rose asked.
"I don't really know that, yet," Dr. Hartman answered. "I'm not his doctor, but I can check and keep you informed." The doctor got up and left the room and Mike returned shortly after that, followed by what Peter assumed were two detectives.
"Sorry to bother you, gentleman," one of them said. "This is Detective Burk and I'm Detective Smith. We need you boys to tell us what happened." Peter and Mike went into detail about what had happened that night. The detectives wrote a lot of things down on their notepads and Rose and Davy both looked very distraught by the end of their story.
"Where were the two of you?" Detective Burk asked.
"I took her to a friend's horse ranch," Davy answered. His voice sounded very strained to Peter. "We lost track of the time."
"It's good she wasn't there, though," Mike said. Rose and Davy both had traces of guilt on their faces. "Micky was right; if she were there, he probably would have killed us."
"That's right," Peter said, trying to ease their guilt.
"It looks like your story matches with the evidence," Detective Smith said. "Two of the men who attacked you are wanted the murder of another young man. You are all very lucky to get out of this situation alive." Both detectives stood up now.
"We'll call you if we have any more questions," Detective Burk added before they both left the room.
"Murder?" Davy whispered.
"They were shooting at us," Mike said. "Good thing he can't aim that well."
"Good thing Peter's fast, too," Davy added.
"And good thing Peter stayed calm and figured out how to get himself free," Rose said, putting her hand on his arm. "You saved the day, Peter. You're a hero."
"Well, I wouldn't really go that far," Peter mumbled and felt himself blush. Really, he'd only done what anyone else would have to save his friends. He felt really bad for hurting those men, but he knew it was something that had to be done. If two of them really were killers, then Micky really was right. If Rose had been home, or if Peter hadn't incapacitated them, he was sure he and all his friends would be dead by now. But he still wouldn't call himself a "hero".