Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based on, and inspired by characters created by William Blinn.

A/N: This will feature a non-explicit slash relationship between Starsky and Hutch (toward the end), as well as violence and gore. Hutch whump, Starsky angst, and comfort toward the end. Written for suerum, and also for (thanks for the encouragement, both of you).

Starsky pondered what he'd accidentally overheard the other day and frowned. Love? Was that even the right word to tack onto what he and Hutch had? Certainly there was more to their relationship than could be attributed to that lone word.

He saw Hutch waving him over to their latest crime scene and shook his head to clear it. He smiled and then jogged over to his partner.

"What've we got?" he asked, grimacing at the blood he could see a little beyond where Hutch stood.

"Shots fired. Dead man. No eyewitnesses," Hutch rattled off, ticking each item off on his fingers. He rolled his eyes when he got to the part about the lack of witnesses, clearly not believing it.

Starsky frowned and peered past his partner. His heart lurched up into his throat when he caught a glimpse of the dead man. He blinked and then walked forward on legs that had grown numb with trepidation. He knelt down next to the dead man and looked back at Hutch and did a double-take.

Hutch made a face and then nodded. "Yeah, I know, you don't have to say it."

But Starsky had to say it anyway. It couldn't not be said. "You got a twin brother I don't know about?" The joking tone he used did nothing to alleviate the sense of panic that he was feeling, nor any of the tension in the air.

"If I did, I don't anymore," Hutch said drily. He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Starsky shook his head. "No one saw or heard anything?"

"Nope," Hutch said and he rocked back on his heels.

"This happened in broad daylight and on a street corner where there's a lot of business, and nothing?" Starsky couldn't shake the mounting anger.

He knew that someone had seen or heard what had happened, and even though he knew that the witnesses were probably just afraid to come forward, it did nothing to quell the anger that he felt. He was also having a hard time not seeing Hutch's features in the dead man he was looking at – it was a truly uncanny resemblance, and left a pit of cold fear in his stomach.

"What do you make of it?" Hutch asked, and Starksy glanced back at his partner. Hutch was scratching the back of his head, a gesture of nervousness which was not lost on Starsky but is probably not recognized as such by those watching them process the scene.

Starsky shrugged. "Looks like…" he trailed off as something caught his eye. His blood ran cold.

"What, what is it?" Hutch knelt down next to Stasky, squeezing his shoulder as he did so. He whistled and shook his head when his eyes followed where Starsky's gaze was locked on the dead man's wrists.

"Ligature marks," Starsky said.

He moved the sleeve of the man's jacket up a little to reveal rope burns – starkly red against the deathly white/gray pallor of the dead man. It was clear that, when he was alive, he had fought the restraints, and for quite a time if the severity of the wounds were anything to go by. It also appeared as though the man's chest had been burned with something like a blowtorch.

"Looks like he was held for…" Hutch paused and frowned in thought, his shoulder brushing against Starsky's as he too reached for the dead man's wrist, trailing his fingers along the outside of it, not quite touching the raw marks left on the skin. "A couple of days, maybe a week?" He looked to Starsky for confirmation.

Starsky nodded. "Seems about right." His eyes were drawn to the dead man's throat, where there was evidence of strangling - deep, purple rope marks. His brow furrowed, he turned his gaze to his partner. "Why bother to strangle and burn a man if you're just going to shoot him?"

"It does seem like a bit of overkill," Hutch agreed. His arm brushed against Starsky's when he moved to

stand.

"Unless you want to throw off the police," Starsky said thoughtfully. "I don't think the gunshot killed him. I think he was dead before he was shot."

Hutch pursed his lips and nodded. "Yeah, I think you might be right."

Please review, this is my first attempt at writing Starsky and Hutch.