Chapter One

Two weeks and two days

Two weeks and two days...that's how long I had been feeling like this. That's how long since my world had been rocked and hadn't righted itself.

That's how long since I had lost my best friend.

I had been standing in the center of my bathroom with this one constant thought going around and around in my throbbing head. My body had been shell-shocked, literally just hours before, but it was the figurative shell shock that was killing me slowly here.

One hour ago I had still been feeling like death, standing dazedly in the center of the bathroom, towel wrapped around my waist, still dripping from a shower that had begun a long time ago and finished God knows how long after it started. All I know is that the water had turned from hot to lukewarm to freaking freezing cold and I had still been standing under its stream. The cold water was not the problem; I almost welcomed the ferocity of the sensation. I had stood transfixed with my face turned up to the frigid sting of the spray, letting it bite into my flesh and numb whatever part of me that was not already numb. After a while even that sensation was not abrasive enough, not harsh enough to do the trick.

I knew what the next trick would be and I needed to climb out of the shower to get it.

The acrid smell of the smoke from the blast of the grenade still permeated my nostrils and I could not hear anything much but a buzzing drone. Specks of white plaster were still falling from my hair as I toweled it off. In the mirror I caught sight of the fresh graze on the side of my face and noticed just how deep was the cut near my eyebrow. I fingered it gingerly and remembered that it was courtesy of a flying shard of plaster or glass. My right elbow was throbbing and the bruising was already coloring up under the swollen and torn flesh.

"T'riffic...just t'riffic...shit!"

Could have been much worse. I consoled myself. Far, far worse.

But it was worse. Far, far worse. Never have I felt this ripped up inside. Never.

In the seconds that I held that grenade in my hand, I knew that it would be one sure and certain way out of this terrible pain. It would release me from my own hell.

Tonight had put a stop to Joey's sick delusions...no more women would die at the legacy of this man's post traumatic stress psychosis. Vietnam had fucked him up well and truly and there was a big part of me that felt for this sicko. I knew what a tour of duty could do to even the toughest guy, let alone someone who was emotionally fragile. I could not feel anything but pity for him. Yes tonight might have been the end of Joey and his murderous delusions, and the hell he had bestowed on the dead women and their grieving families may have been given some closure. But tonight brought no closure for my own private hell.

Joey and his victims were not on my mind now. Once we cleared the dance room some hours ago and checked back in at the precinct for the basic necessary paperwork, I had effectively shelved the assignment. Christ, I just had to let go sometime and close the door on this shit or I could not continue to function. I had really reached the end of my stamina with this one.

Now that the case was over, now that I had nothing to divert myself from the extent of my own grief, I did not know where to take my mind to escape the blackness that had descended on my every waking moment.

This case had cost me enormously in emotional currency and I had no idea who was going to be able to wipe the ledger clean.

What price do you put on a friendship? A friendship of a lifetime?

Who can replace the loss of a best friend?

I rummaged around in my bedroom and found a well-worn soft t-shirt and pulled it over my still damp body. Not bothering to do up my jeans I padded out to the kitchen.

I threw open the lower kitchen cupboard and found my next trick. Yep. This should do it. I pulled out the unopened bottle of tequila and as I went to pluck a glass from the drainer, gave a shrug... "Fuck it" and took the bottle sans glass into my small living room.

The lamp was on and that was all the light I wanted. I gave a momentary thought to food, as I could not remember when I had in fact last eaten. I had the distinct feeling that I should be hungry and should eat, but the momentary thought was just that. "Fuck it" seemed to be the phrase that fit me best tonight and I spat it out into the empty room again.

Bottle in one hand and cushion in the other I let my sore and aching body collapse onto the sofa.

The cut on my eyebrow was stinging like a bitch but I was down now and too exhausted to return to the kitchen to retrieve some ice to soothe the swelling. No doubt the medicine in my hand would help with the pulsing pain in my head and the throb from the deep cut. Should have listened to the medics who responded to the scene tonight and got a butterfly suture or two to seal it up. As always though all I wanted was to clear out and get home as soon as the business side of the operation was done.

I could hear Hutch's jibes and mother hen voice from so many times over the years. " Starsk. Just let them look at you for God's sake. It won't take a minute. You might need a stitch or two." How many times had he nagged me with that same phrase over the years? Always fussing for Christ sake.

Not tonight though. Tonight we had been matter of fact and officious with each other. Clearing the scene, securing the offender, detailing the events as they went down. If either of us had concerns for the other's well being as a result of the fallout of the explosion we did not address them. Well at least not to each other.

Kira did not seem perturbed about Hutch or myself and as soon as the dust had settled from the grenade's fallout she had taken no time in pulling herself out from under me to crawl over to fawn over Joey's emotionally broken body.

Splayed out now I looked at the tequila bottle. "Well hello friend." and unscrewing the cap, threw it across the room and took my first long swig. The burn was as hot and caustic in my throat as the freezing needles of the shower water had been on my face. I let the trail of its fire meander down into my stomach and the sensation was a pure rush. Right now I needed extremes. Extremes of every sensation to ward off the other extremes of gut wrenching emotion that had been plaguing me for ….well probably for more than, two weeks and two days.

As I molded my aching head and sore body deeper into my sofa I ran over the events of this case as they had unfolded over the past month or more. Hutch and I had been brought in to investigate murders on women who had been working in an outdated dance hall. Somewhere in the mix Kira had been brought into the investigation too and somewhere in the mix, everything turned to shit.

Hutch and I had gone into this case like we always did, but we had come out like we have never been before.

Enemies.

Another long pull of tequila had been gagging and spluttering, but I kept it down and closed my eyes waiting for the kick of the almost pure alcohol to pull my mind into another realm. I did not want to keep thinking this same stuff over and over again and if inebriation was the answer then I was more than happy to let the tequila to take me there. The spirit was starting to do its job and in the lightheaded haziness that started to take me over, I contemplated the murders of the case and the collateral damage along the way. Yep, there sure was a lot of collateral damage – and casualties that Joey's sick actions had inadvertently set in place.

However the disturbed behavior of this emotionally deranged poor son of a bitch could not account for at least two of the casualties in this case.

Hutch and I were solely responsible for the damage we had incurred ourselves and for the absolute grief we had bestowed on each other during this investigation. I shifted my body and groaned at my stiff muscles that had been slammed during the fall.

It would be easy to blame Hutch entirely, or Kira and Hutch but I knew that I was also to blame. I had trusted them both. Kira! What a loser to have been taken in by her manipulative game.

Stupid ass Starsky! You stupid fucking idiot!

I grimaced at the tequila back taste or was it the back taste of pain?

Two weeks and two days.

"Fuck you Hutch! Fuck you!"

By now I was well and truly feeling the effects of my own prescribed medication. It seemed that there was a hell of a lot to be said for this idea of healing thyself.

Cop, Heal thyself. Yeah!

I was doing a damn good job of it and with each slug I felt better and better. Maybe not completely better but hell, at least I was feeling less and less in touch with myself. That had to be good didn't it? That had to be a healthy thing surely, because over the past weeks I had been positively self-destructive. God I was so damn self destructive I needed to take a hit out against me before I caused myself any further harm. I was a mean, lean, lethal machine against one David Starsky.

Now that was good...I smirked and snorted at my own side joke and alliteration... take a hit out on myself. That's damn good Starsky! And yeah, I am - "self destructive". I should have a warning brandished on my forehead. 'This cop is highly dangerous to himself!'

God I was freaking hilarious. Shame then that I was playing to an audience of one. I had better listen to myself because it was damn clear no body else was paying me any attention right at this moment.

But then I had not acted on the classic opportunity to put a finish to all the inner shit that would not leave me in peace over the past weeks. I admonished my own failure to put my money where my mouth was.

Hah! Had the perfect opportunity to self-destruct tonight buddy and you just threw it away! Had that bloody grenade in your hot little hand and all you had to do was hold it a little while longer and all of your worries would have been over. Boom! Blown away on the wind.

Should have just done it Starsk...just a few seconds more and...And there would have been no more Starsk. No more feeling like hell every minute of every day. Hey...no more Kira either, coz she was right near me and she would have gone too.

"Hear that Kira? You wouldn't be able to hurt me anymore and you would have paid for what you did to me!" I yelled out loud into the empty dimly lit room. But even in my semi drunken state, just half touching on this sore point and verbalizing my anger at this woman, did not sit too comfortably with me just yet. My lingering affection for her had not dulled enough yet to allow this vengeful fantasy to give me any great satisfaction or relief. But I would get there eventually. If not by the end of this bottle...well then there were plenty of other days and plenty of other bottles that would come to my aid. I would reach the point where I could put her down – down where she belonged. Out of my mind, out of my life.

Where she could never cause me hurt ever again.

"Yesss sireee Kira, You will be long gone baby. Long gone"

As my brain started to fog up my clarity in judgment was reaching new heights.

I was determined to quash out all feelings for this woman and what she done to me. What she had done to us. I thought she and I had shared something special. Obviously I was way off the mark here. Hutch always did say that I was a poor judge of character. Too trusting.

Well you sure are right on that score buddy. I am a very poor judge of character. Look at what she did! Look at what she has done to you and me.

The shuddering thought ran through my head for the millionth time in the past few days. Hutch was right. I had been far too trusting.

What have you done to you and me Hutch? I have always trusted you. Always. And you did this to us!

Why?

I revisited my fantasy of the grenade in my hand, with me masterfully ordaining the destiny of those around me.

"No more Joey, it would have put you out of your misery too you poor bastard, God knows you would probably be better off than where you will eventually end up... No more Kira...no more …..No more." the demise of the last person on my personal hit list was harder to fit into my destructive fantasy. No more...Hutch.

I tried to keep the tirade going, the anger fuelled. I saw again the scene of a few hours ago. The room shattered around us, dust circling in the air, plaster still dropping down in pieces following the blast, and the sight of the bodies on the floor. I had slowly pulled myself up to a sitting position from where I had thrown myself down hard, diving over the top of Kira and doing my best to shield her body under mine. The explosion had ripped across the room just seconds after I had managed to hurl the small bomb as far away as possible. Luckily it had landed in the vacant area across from where we had all been standing when Joey had erupted. There had been no one there as everyone had scattered, sad dark dance hall largely empty, the patrons having run screaming as Joey's maniacal ranting escalated.

If the grenade had gone off nearer us ….If Hutch hadn't been able to wrestle it away from Joey and swing it up in the air …...and I hadn't fielded it and thrown it...all of us would be gone...all gone...no more...Joey, Kira, me and.

Hutch.

I could still see him lying there amongst the debris, remaining motionless for longer than either Kira or me. He had fallen down right next to Joey and his white hair was covered in even whiter powder and broken plaster. My partner instincts had kicked in instantly. Within moments after the explosion I was seeking him out, searching for his blond head, on the alert for him.

Hutch! Did I shout his name out loud? As I always did when I needed to reassure myself of his safety. I pushed up quickly into a shaky crouch ready to crawl to his side; so reflexive and attuned was my protective response where he was concerned. A reciprocated role we had mastered over the years. First law of crisis. First law of friendship. Ensure each other's well being before anything else. Instinctive, automatic, and a given between the two of us.

I saw him begin to slowly move and groan as like me he struggled upright, pushing himself up from the floor with effort, shaking his head to clear the deafening blow that was no doubt still filling his head like it was mine. He was ok after all. I relaxed down again and turned from him toward Kira. I would spare him no concern even if my now almost innate conditioned response was to go to him immediately, to attend to his needs and safety before anything else. To reassure myself that Hutch was unharmed and whole.

As we always had done when either of us was hurt or threatened. We had always, always reacted to each other that way. Reached out to each other when threatened.

Until two weeks and two days ago.

When everything had changed.

I was winding down now from my ramped up fantasy of dying at the hands of the grenade and thereby effectively cutting off the burning pain that had not left my side in the past weeks.

The pain of betrayal and confusion.

I looked down at the bottle in my hand. The potency of the spirit was definitely burning down into my guts now and its medicinal effects were making it harder to feel where my own numbness ended and the numbness from the liquor started. Didn't matter...all good because I did not want to feel anything, anymore. I sure as hell did not want to think anymore. The way this stuff was working I guessed I was well on track to arriving at that point.

A welcomed, calm mellowness was warring with the knot of constant hurt that had been at my core for days. This lovely clear liquid was taking care of me. I wrapped my hands tighter around the bottle - God I really felt I needed something to take care of me.

Two weeks and two days since we had really talked.

That is if you could count what had passed between us as talking. More like slanting looks and furtive assessments of each other. Making sure that our eyes never met. That our gazes never lingered enough to communicate anything but the pragmatics of the case or the job at hand.

How many years had we never stopped seeking out each other eyes and locking our gazes. Two sets of blue eyes always in silent communication.

Our entire repertoire in the past weeks had come down to short, clipped statements relating to the assignment. When we walked near each other or were in the same room the physical distance between us was enough to have everyone in the precinct talking. Wondering. Speculating. The two partners who were constantly joined at the hip had never been so apart.

Two weeks and two days...

A long time in the scheme of most relationships.

An eternity in the scheme of our relationship.

I rubbed my hand through my curly thick hair and was surprised to feel that it was still slightly damp. Had it just been one hour ago that I had been standing in my bathroom? Christ this stuff really worked fast. I should do some testimonials...the healing powers of tequila.

Hutch.

Why? Why? Why did you do this to me? To us? To our friendship?

Two weeks and two days and not a single decent interaction had passed between the two of us apart from the necessity of staying in our undercover roles and acting out our scripts.

Two weeks and two days ago I had walked into Kira's apartment and found them.

What I couldn't believe I would find.

What I had wanted not to find.

What I had been expecting to find.

Hutch.

With Kira.

Hutch with Kira and Hutch had been prepared to allow me to find them. He must have known that I would have come to her place, looking for her, looking for him. The realization that he had done this act in the knowledge that I would discover it was unbearable.

For the first time in my life with Hutch, there had been a monumental shift.

Hutch had betrayed me.

This betrayal had been clearly defined the day he walked out of Kira's bedroom. When he stood shocked at my presence in the doorway. When I stood shocked and dismayed at his presence in Kira's doorway.

The ultimate betrayal of the ultimate friendship.

We had fought, met head on like two wild animals, locking horns, testosterone and pheromones filling the air as we waged battle over the coveted female mate. The aggressive male on male outburst and fight for supremacy had achieved nothing except leaving us both feeling confused and even more angry and frustrated with each other.

We had achieved nothing except bringing to the forefront the rot that had set into our relationship ever since Kira had been on the scene. Our punches and shoves at each other had confirmed it. It was official. Hutch and I were over.

There was the job to do and a murderer to uncover. I couldn't afford to take my mind off what was important, even though I knew that the ever since that day I had taken my mind off everything but what had happened that day.

I could not go there. Could not let my self see the two of them as I had found them that day. I had managed so far to do a pretty good job of pushing it all away and shutting it all into a tight box.

Come on tequila, your trick is not working too well anymore! I slugged more of the liquid fire back and some of it ran down my chin. Using the back of my hand to wipe it off I effectively ended up sluicing it over most of my face and up into the open fresh cut near my eye.

'Jesssssuuuuuuussssssss!"

I let out the oath and hissed as the alcohol bit into the raw wound. My hand came away bloody and I figured I had opened up the tender gaping cut again. I jerked at the pain and the bottle dropped from my other hand and rolled away on the carpet mat.

"T'riffficccccc" realizing that I was struggling with even my most repeated and favorite word, I was able to gauge that my level of drunkenness was now quickly deepening.

I lurched forward and made a clumsy bum assed grab for the bottle. Next thing I knew I had crashed forward onto my face, my arms just giving out and refusing to balance my crouched body. Oh shit! The pain of the burn of the carpet on my already raw face had me yelping. Somehow I managed to right myself having fumbled around enough to get a purchase on the bottle.

"Gotcha!" I fell more than sat back against the sofa, figuring it was safer to stay on the ground than to try to get up on my legs. I was obviously wrong and had badly underestimated the tequila's potency and prowess in blanking out my mind. Just didn't think it would be so effective in blanking out how my muscles worked too. 'Whoa! Some rush in that! I held the bottle up in the half light, peering now to see how much of my magic tonic had spilled and wasted onto the floor. I was pleased to see there was still an inch or more left in the bottle. Huh! Enough to sip on for a little while longer.

While I sat here in my darkened room alone and in pain.