Prompt Fill 17: Recovery
Prompt Fill 17
For the Kink KinK Bang Bang Meme Prompt:
Harry is kidnapped by the suspects in Perry's new case. When he finally gets Harry back three months later, he's been trained and forced into sexual submission. He's spent his days clad only in a collar with a leash, made to have something up his ass or in his mouth at all times, and lost most of his ability to speak. Perry must retrain him to be normal. (Optional: Harry's also been forced to take hormones, which have both sensitized his chest and shrunken his penis)
When Harry disappeard, I think I lost my sanity...to some degree. The first few days weren't so bad. There were so many plausible possibilities that I didn't really have time to be worried. The weeks were worse. I had nearly stopped eating and sleeping and spent most of my time searching this fucking black hole of a city known as Los Angeles.
I got the call just shy of four months. By that time, I'd forgotten how to sleep and had lost all sense of time. I guess it's a good thing that I snapped back fairly quickly because I sure as hell needed to, as it turns out.
Harry had been found. He was alive. I don't like to admit it, but I cried. Just a little anyway.
-----
I didn't see him when I walked into the police station. It pissed me off because that's where I was told he'd be. I think the officer at the front desk thought I was a lunatic or suicide bomber because she stood up very slowly and asked in the same voice doctors use to talk to crazy people, "Can I help you, Sir?"
"Harry Lockhart," I blurted immediately, still looking around.
The woman nodded. "Oh, yes," she said. "You must be Mr. Van Shrike." She motioned for me to follow her. She led me to a closed door at the back of the station. I tried to collect my thoughts.
Without a word, she opened the door and stepped aside so I could go in. I didn't. Not at first. There were three cops in the room, and one other person. He was hunched over in a chair, but even slouched and dressed in mismatched, God-awful charity donations that were too big for him, I could see he was as skinny as fuck.
"Mr. Van Shrike is here," one of the officers said, tapping him lightly on the arm.
He looked up and I felt sick. "Harry..."
His eyes were dark and swollen from lack of sleep. There was something else in them too, and it wasn't until I approached him and knelt down that I figured out what it was.
He didn't recognize me.
He studied me, his dark eyes following mine, but said nothing. I studied him as well, my gaze falling to the lip ring. My brows furrowed. He had two more in his ear-one of them a bar.
"He was found handcuffed to an archway pillar in the bedroom of some shut-in's house," one of the officers told me. "Naked except for a collar and ball gag."
I obediently noted the chaffed ring around his neck. Harry still said nothing.
"Where is he?" I asked, visually checking Harry over for more injuries.
"Committed suicide three days ago," another officer piped up. "Hadn't shown up to work for three days, and a neighbor told us she'd been suspicious about possibly hearing a gunshot."
"He hasn't said a word to us," the third finally spoke. "Not to the officer who found him, not to the medics on standby..." he sighed. "Not a word to anybody..."
"Has he been..." I looked away from Harry. "Looked over...by a doctor?"
"Yah," the first officer replied solemnly, lowering his voice. "He's um...he's suffered a lot of physical abuse."
"Fractured ribs, stab wounds, strange scars..." the other added. "We're not sure about the markings on his back."
"Can I take him home now?" I asked. It didn't feel right-having them discuss all of this so casually-even if they didn't know Harry well enough to care.
-----
They wanted to argue about it, but luckily my police guy barged in and told them to get a life and then told me to take Harry home.
When we got to the house, I pulled Harry against me, and I tried not to cry. Just looking at him broke my heart. When I pulled back, I traced one of the gashes on his cheek with my fingers. Harry took my fingers in his hand, and brought them to his mouth, sucking hard. I puleed my hand away. Harry looked at me, confusion written all over his face.
------
"Do you remember who I am?" I asked, microwaving him a cup of tea.
Harry didn't say or do anything. He just stood there. I took the tea from the microwave with one hand, and with the other, prodded Harry to the couch. When he sat down, I sat too, handing him the cup. He took a sip, licking his lips. He then took another, and another.
"Harry," I said, trying to be careful with my words. "Let me see your back."
He didn't move. Gingerly, I placed my hands on the tail of his giant Tshirt and to my surprise, he helped me by quickly wriggling out of it. He was so thin I could see the faint indention of some of his ribs. I stood up and pulled him up too, turning him around so I could see his back. My brows furrowed. Thin silvery, pink lines stared back at me. I traced my finger over one, my stomach flipping over. They had used a whip.
"Why?" I asked quietly. Nobody in particular. Maybe even myself.
-----
I cooked a large meal-Harry's favorite at that, simmered chicken with rice and vegetables, but he only ate a small portion of it. I helped him into the shower and when he got out, I brought him a pair of his sweats and sleep shirt. He didn't take them. He kissed my hand, and then my arm.
"No, Harry." I pulled away. "Get dressed, okay, Chief?" I tried again, but he took my arm and began to lick it. Completely naked and still dripping water, he fell-literally fell to his knees, and pressed his face to the crotch of my pants.
I jerked away. "What the fuck, Harry?" I tried to keep my voice calm. I took his chin in my hand, a little rougher than I'd intended, and stared at him. "Harry...?"
I ended up helping him dress, and brush his teeth. That caused some problems too. He didn't seem to comprehend what to do with it, and I shook my head slightly as he sucked on the toothbrush. I helped him finish, and led him to his bed. I sat down beside him, watching as he fingered the comforter. He looked at me. Moving closer, I removed the lip ring and earrings. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip.
"Harry," I said quietly. "I'm so sorry." I hugged him again. "This is all my fault." I felt my voice clotting. "All my fucking fault!"
I waited until he fell asleep, and then crawled into bed next to him, wrapping my arms around his waist. I kissed his neck. No, we weren't a couple. It was wrong of me. I shouldn't have done it, but I wasn't exactly in a decent frame of mind. I wanted to make sure he was safe. I wanted to be near him. I wanted to protect him. Thinking of that last part, I bawled like a baby.
I'd already done a pretty shitty job.
To Be Continued...
Onto Part 2: http://kikamontanez.livejournal.com/27623.html