Bad Moon Rising
By: Startisparticus2017
Notes: Vietnam related, intuitive, hurt/comfort, angst
The characters are not mine, well the ones I made up are. I simply borrow the characters. I do not receive compensation for this story.
Characters: David Starsky, Ken Hutchinson, Captain Dobey, Huggy Bear, Minnie, Detective Simmons, Detective Babcock, Dr. Hensely, Nurse Laura, Tony Raynori aka Trigger. Additional Characters: Loney Zooker, Cassandra, Officer Donovan, Officer Cooper, Boris Nunzio and Louijie Nunzio
Bad Moon Rising
In his dimly lit apartment Starsky sat on the couch. His legs propped on the coffee table, his posture slumped. It was Friday night and a full moon glowed through the windows. He was on the phone with his mother. A regular Friday night ritual, he listened attentively. "Ma, will ya stop worryin', I'm fine. There's no bad moon rising. Well…yes, there's a full moon. Ma?" Starsky shook his head and grinned admirably. "I do love the song." He chuckled. "It's a song, no never mind, Ma. It's been a long week. I will talk to ya next week. I love ya. Kisses!"
He sighed and placed the receiver in the cradle of the phone gently. He looked at his watch; it was 8:00 pm and all he wanted to do is go to bed, but he had a date. Starsky decided to kick off his blue tennis shoes and laid back on the couch. He tugged at his tight blue jeans and pulled his baby blue button-down shirt out.
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Meanwhile, at his apartment Hutch had just finished showering and wrapped himself in a rust-colored robe. He walked toward the kitchen and pulled a tall bottle of beer from the refrigerator and popped the cap with the bottle opener. He leaned against the counter and took a long swallow, sighed and grinned. "To another week of pure hell. You gotta love it." He took another sip. A vision flashed before him of his partner pale with the look of pain that consumed his features. Hutch was stunned, shook his head then rubbed his forehead. He blinked several times and the heart shattering image disappeared. A chill trickled up his spine. "Whoa! It's just been a long week; you're tired." Hutch poured the remains of the beer down the drain of the sink and rubbed his face with both hands.
He made his way to the living room and glanced at the phone. The need to call his partner tugged at his thoughts; his lips were tight with anxiety. "Oh come on Hutchinson, have you lost your mind? You just left him an hour ago?" Hutch argued with himself. The feeling to call his partner overtook him. He reached for the phone and dialed.
Starsky was startled by the phone and reached for it, he settled the receiver over his ear and grinned. "Yeah…what's blond and has blue eyes and worries too much? Oh and drives a crummy car?" Starsky smirked.
Hutched grinned. "Crummy car? That car has character and is a classic, chump. How'd you know it was me?"
Starsky sighed and rolled his eyes. "Psychic! Did you miss me already, Blintz?"
Hutch shuffled with embarrassment and leaned against the arm of the couch with his leg. "Don't' flatter yourself, Gordo."
Starsky sensed something bothered Hutch, his grin subsided. "You had a feelin' again, didn't ya?" The question hung from the brunet's lips.
The blond on numerous occasions over the past month had premonitions unbeknownst to his partner. A dreaded feeling that settled within his very soul. The unraveled feeling that something bad was going to happen plagued with visions. Hutch refrained from giving all the details to his curious curly haired partner. He simply called it 'a feeling.'
Hutch's smile faded as he rubbed his chin. "Yeah." His face held traces of embarrassment and fear.
Starsky played with the phone cord and sighed. He knew that his partner was worried and on edge, they both were. The recent cases involved many tragic circumstances that sometimes left even the most seasoned detective unnerved. "Ma did too, said she felt there's a bad moon rising…huh! The two of you are creepin' me out."
Hutch rubbed his chest, his face compromised with worry. "Well, you know how the song goes. On the lighter side, we start a three-day vacation. I know I sure could use some quiet time."
Starsky yawned, rubbed his right eye with the palm of his hand. "I'll see ya in the morning." Starsky paused and grinned. "Stop worrying will ya?"
Hutch took a deep breath and grinned. "It's my middle name, Ollie. See ya." He placed the handset onto the cradle of the phone. The blond felt the unease that crept and sat at the core of his body.
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Starsky poured a cup of coffee and sipped it as he walked to his desk at Bay City PD. He removed his faded brown leather jacket and placed it on the back of the chair. His desk covered in paperwork and folders. Hutch entered the room, walked directly to his desk. He too removed his tan leather jacket; he glanced and smiled at his partner. "Morning!" He said as reached over and retrieved Starsky's cup of coffee.
Starsky shook his head and glared at him. "There's a full pot over there ya know." Hutch looked at him; his lips were pursed to sip.
"Thanks, buddy! I have one already." He responded with a twinkle in his eye and salluted with the coffee cup in his hand. The smile widened as he raised his eyebrows and winked.
Starsky gave him the famous 'whatever' look. He sighed and moved the stack of file folders. "Eight more hours and we are on vacation, Blondie."
Hutch scratched his cheek. "How was your date?"
Starsky looked up and grinned; he shrugged his shoulders. "Leta was great, loves to dance. I showed her my moves." He raised and wiggled his eyebrows and smiled ear to ear.
Hutch looked at him and rolled his eyes upward. He tossed a folder onto his partner's desk. "I don't think thrusting your pelvic area like an idiot qualifies as moves, Starsk."
Starsky responded with a frown. He knew that his partner enjoyed the occasional jab.
The office area door opened. A pretty strawberry blonde police officer walked in with paperwork stacked in her arms. She approached Hutch, stopped and looked at Starsky. "Hey, weren't you at Club 54 last night?" Her eyes sparkled, as her smile parted her glossy pink lips and exposed a picture-perfect pearled grin.
"Yeah, I was." Starsky enthusiastically smiled widely. The pretty officer dropped the paperwork on Hutch's desk, her attention admirably directed at the brunet.
"You really know how to use a dance floor. You have some nice moves." She winked at him and sensually walked away leaving little to the imagination regarding her assets.
Hutch raised an eyebrow and snickered in disbelief as he looked at his partner who beamed from the extended compliment.
"Thrusting my pelvic area like an idiot, huh?" Starsky sarcastically asked, his eyes were wide with flattery as he grinned sheepishly.
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Several hours later they had completed reviewing the stack of files on their desk. They both sat back and sighed in unison. Starsky flipped his pencil in the air and caught it playfully with his left hand. "That's all she wrote, buddy boy!" His voice trickled with excitement.
Hutch stretched and collated all the folders and dropped them into a black tray on his desk. "Yeah, all we need to do is check with forensics on the bullet."
Starsky stood and held a pile of folders. He walked around the table and over to the cabinet beside Hutch and placed the folders in the file cabinet. He pulled two pieces of paper and put his hand on Hutch's back and patted him in a chummy gesture. He left two sheets of paper stuck there that read, "Kick me! Blonds are lousy in bed!"
Hutch headed out of the office to forensics to get the information on the bullet. Laughter from the detectives and staff caught Hutch's attention. He continued and noticed everyone pointed in his direction. The blond reached over his shoulder and extracted one of the notes. "STARKSY!" Hutch growled.
Starsky grabbed the files in the black bin and knocked on the Captain's door and entered quickly.
"I don't recall telling you to come in, Starsky." The Captain barked.
Starsky swaggered forward and extended the files. "Ah, come on Cap'n! In a half hour I'm on vacation, and you'll miss me."
The Captain frowned and grumbled. "As much as I miss hemorrhoids. Where's your partner?"
Starsky giggled as Hutch entered the Captain's office, he was furious. He looked at his partner with daggered iced blue eyes. He momentarily looked at his Captain. "Here's the forensic report on the Dryden case, Captain." Hutch looked over at his partner who stood in front of the window with his mouth covered. His shoulders jerked with the continued muffled snort and suppressed laughter.
Hutch had a look of 'I could kill you' as he turned to sit. The Captain noticed the note on his back; he glanced over at Starsky briefly as a mischievous smirk crossed his face. "Hutch! Why are you advertising your sexual misfortunes?"
Hutch leaped to his feet and attempted to remove the note on his back vigorously. The Captain busted into laughter. Starsky bent over, his laugh echoed, screeched and shrilled.
"Starsky so help me!" Hutch finally retrieved the paper and crumbled it and tossed it at his partner. Starsky turned away from him and faced the window as he laughed hysterically. His laughter subsided when he noticed someone on the roof across the street. Instinctively he reached with his left hand and drew his gun from the leather holster and screamed.
"GET DOWN!"
The window shattered. Captain Dobey catapulted from his chair and fell to the floor. Hutch crouched behind the desk. He pulled his gun. Starsky had his gun drawn and had fired several shots. The smell of gunfire filled the small office.
Silence hung in the air. Starsky stood, his hands dropped to his side as he looked out the window. Hutch crawled over to assist the Captain to his feet. He stood and looked out the window briefly as he tugged at the large black man. "Where were the shots fired from, Starsk? Hutch stumbled backward. "You okay, Captain?" Hutch preoccupied with making sure his Captain wasn't hurt.
The Captain stood and brushed himself off then growled loudly. "I'm fine; I'm fine! Where were the shots fired from, Starsky?" Captain Dobey looked at Hutch who for the first time noticed his partner hadn't moved or responded. Both men looked toward Starsky; the gun slipped from the brunet's hand and fell to the floor. Hutch holstered his gun. Surged fear overtook him. He shortened the distance between them quickly. He stood behind his partner. "Starsk? Hey Buddy, you okay?" Hutch reached out with a trembling hand and turned his friend around. The flash vision of Starsky's face from the night before appeared before him. This time it wasn't a vision. Starsky's face was pale, his eyes were mere slits, his mouth moved, but nothing came out. His body begun to sway and fell forward onto Hutch. Hutch caught him and carefully guided him to the floor. "Starsky! Starsk…oh god! Call an ambulance!"
Captain Dobey reached for his phone and dialed. Both entrances to Dobey's office opened as officers swarmed in. Minnie made her way in and covered her face when she saw Starsky on the floor with blood on his upper chest. Hutch lightly touched his friend's face, his fingers pale and trembled. He quickly scanned his friend's body to assess the injuries. Without hesitation or second thought he placed his hands over his partner's chest and administered pressure. The blood seeped through his fingers. "Starsk, stay with me, Buddy! Stay with me! I need to apply pressure; it's going to hurt like hell. Okay?" Everything around Hutch became silent as he focused on his partner and made eye contact with him.
Minnie knelt down next to him with her white sweater in her grasp. As Hutch removed his hands, she applied the wool garment to the bleeding area. She placed her hands and added pressure to the wound. "Listen to Hutch, Starsky; you stay with us." Her voice quivered, she painted on a smile. But her eyes told a story of trauma.
Captain Dobey pointed to the window. Simmons and Babcock quickly assessed the situation and followed their commanding officer's orders and headed out. The room cleared and remained silent.
Starsky had difficulty keeping his eyes open; he reached up with his hand and touched Hutch's chest. "S-s-orry… was just k-kiddin'." The words slurred, breathy and weak, but tore at the blond's heart. His partner was always more concerned about him than himself.
"Remember, payback is a bitch! You know I'm not mad at you, dummy!" Hutch swallowed, he fought to keep himself calm, and smiled briefly. He rubbed his hands on the front of his shirt and smeared his partner's blood.
The Captain remained on the phone. The hallway had a steady stream of people that walked by and looked in. Hutch closed his eyes and tried to keep calm. Starsky squeezed his hand and focused his eyes on his friend's face. He looked at Minnie; tears escaped causing her makeup to smudge down her face. He gave her a weak smirk and attempted to wink.
Minnie chuckled and sniffed. "See what ya went and done, gorgeous? You got my makeup running."
Starsky's eyes slowly made their way back to Hutch; he felt himself slipping into darkness. He squeezed his partner's hand again. His breath was raspy. Minnie's white sweater had a tan compared to his ashened skin and paled lips, he shivered. "Guess…y-you and Ma were…right 'bout the bad moon."
"Starsk, you hang in there, Buddy! D-d-don't you leave me?" The blond's voice spoke softly.
Starsky coughed, foamed blood seeped from the side of his mouth. "M-m-me." The brunet struggled to speak as he choked.
"Me and Thee, Ollie!" Hutch's voice cracked. His face strained with fear. "Stay with me, okay?"
Minnie touched Hutch's arm in comfort. The EMT's arrived, and Minnie and Hutch stepped away. Hutch kept his eyes focused on his friend.
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Hutch paced the small room, painted in a light pastel green, lined with muted tan chairs. The sign on the door read 'Waiting Room.' Simmons and Babcock entered the waiting area and quietly approached Hutch. Simmons looked at his partner, then at Hutch. "Hutch?"
Hutch stopped pacing and looked at them. "Hey, guys, what are you doing here?"
Babcock played with his dark blue suit coat. "We came to donate blood; everyone has. We wanted to check on you and Starsky."
Hutch felt emotions that rippled inside him and nodded. "Thanks, guys, he's in surgery now."
Simmons touched Hutch's arm lightly, his features hardened. "It was a professional hit, Hutch. A long range rifle across the street at the City Hall building."
Hutch began to pace again. He rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand. "Do we know if Starsky was the intended target?"
Simmons sat down and sighed. His eyes crept up to meet the blond. "No, we don't, Hutch."
Babcock sat near his partner, adjusted the collar of his blue shirt. "We aren't taking any chances; we are keeping an eye out on all three of you for now."
Hutch distracted when he noticed Huggy who ran in frantically. He was out of breath and adjusted his rust-colored jacket. The two detectives rose to their feet.
"I came as quickly as I could. Hutch?" He took a deep breath.
Hutch reached out and touched Huggy's arm. "He's in surgery."
Huggy took another deep breath. "You okay, my man?" Huggy looked at Hutch's hands and shirt that displayed a large amount of blood. The blond for the first time noticed his hands and shirt. His hands shook, his knees weakened. Huggy grabbed his arm and led him to a chair behind him.
Simmons and Babcock turned to leave when Huggy spoke, his eyes focused. "Gentlemen, you're going to want to hear this tid bit of information. Lonny Zooker spilled his guts when he saw this on the news; he was three sheets to the wind."
Babcock walked over to Huggy as Hutch looked up from his state of shock. "Was Starsky the intended target?" The words escaped the blond's lips.
Huggy bowed his head. "He heard it from some hooker named Cassandra; she works for Jax and some cats from the east coast."
The two detectives looked at each other briefly, Simmons looked at Hutch. "We're on it, Hutch. We're praying for Starsky."
Captain Dobey entered the room and was met by Simmons and Babcock. Hutch looked down at his hands stained with his partner's blood. Huggy sat and glanced over at him; he shook his head. "Let's get you cleaned up."
Hutch continued to look at his hands; he was in shock and lost. "Starsky's blood. This is Starsky's blood." He responded in a low whisper.
Captain Dobey made his way over and looked at Huggy; he took a deep breath. The stress and fear weighed heavy on his features. "Hutch, Huggy's right. There's a facility just down the hall on the left. Why don't you get cleaned up?"
Hutch stood and moved slowly toward the hall when a tall man in a white lab coat approached the doorway. Hutch stopped.
The doctor was a thin man with gray peppered hair. "Detective Hutchinson? I'm Doctor Hensley." Hutch looked at him and nodded.
"How's my partner?" The sense of urgency present in his request.
The doctor gestured his hand to a nearby chair as he looked at Hutch's shirt and hands. Huggy and Dobey joined them. "He's in recovery. He has lost a lot of blood." The doctor saw the worry in Hutch's eyes. "Detective there was massive internal bleeding, we have it under control. It's too soon to say if he will pull through. It was difficult, Detective Starsky's previous encounter with three bullets did not leave much for us to work with or repair. Currently, he's in a coma. We need to watch for infection."
Hutch looked at the doctor and back to his hands, his face paled and held the essence of overwhelming fear. "I want to be with him."
The doctor looked at Huggy and Dobey and placed a hand on Hutch's shoulder. "I've been informed you have a durable power of attorney for your partner. I'll have someone bring you in a change of clothes so you can clean up. Then you can see him."
Hutch stood and walked out as the doctor looked at Dobey and Huggy. Two sets of anxious eyes demanding answers.
"I'm sorry. I wish I had a more optimistic prognosis for you." The doctor bowed his head and sighed heavily.
Huggy bowed his head as Captain Dobey extended his hand and introduced himself. "I'm Captain Dobey, and this is a close friend, Huggy."
Huggy extended his hand, then walked to the far end of the waiting room and sat. The doctor left the waiting area.
The Captain noticed Huggy's demeanor, he walked over and sat a few chairs down. "Are you okay, Huggy?"
Huggy shifted in the seat and straightened his posture and bowed his head. "No, but I don't think anyone of us is going to be until Curly is out of danger."
The Captain scratched his head. "All we can do is pray."
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In a hotel room several miles away, a man sat in a chair smoking a cigar. The smoke filled the dull run-down room. His clothes were soaked from sweat. His hair was black, military cut; he had chiseled features and dark brown eyes. A commercial blasted from the TV. With the cigar in his hand, he lowered the volume when the phone rang. He stood and walked by the bed which had an open case with a rifle inside it. He reached for the phone.
"Yeah!" He sat on the bed, puffed his cigar. "What do you mean he's still alive? I'll finish it…you heard me, I'll finish it!" He slammed the handset onto the cradle of the phone and rubbed his chest. "I'm coming for you, Sergeant! Fuckin' cop can't even die right."
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Back at the hospital, Starsky had been taken to a private room in the ICU. An officer was posted at his door. Two other officers were stationed, one at the elevator and the other on the stairs. The nurse's station was directly across from his room. A steady flow of medical personnel walked the white and tan sterile hallways.
Hutch had changed into a light blue hospital scrub shirt, with his holster and jacket in hand. He stood outside the ICU door to his partner's room. His head bowed, he kept seeing his partner in front of the window, how he laughed hysterically over the prank he had pulled. Hutch smirked. "You're something, Starsk." Hutch pushed the door in slowly and entered the room semi-darkened by the closed curtains.
A nurse had completed noting a chart. She smiled and enclosed her presence upon the tall blond. "Hello there, my name is Laura. You are Detective Hutchinson?"
Hutch acknowledged her. "Call me Ken, please. How's he doing?"
The woman was stocky in build and middle-aged, but pleasant. "He's maintaining. If you need anything, just ring the buzzer." She gently touched his arm.
Hutch looked at his partner and placed his jacket on the back of the chair. He hung his holster over the jacket and pulled the chair to the bedside. Starsky's upper chest was bandaged. There were tubes and monitors all around. He had a nasal cannula for oxygen. Hutch looked at the still hand in front of him, not the usual tanned color and touched it. Tenderly he clasped it and rubbed his thumb gently. He looked at his friend's paled complexion. "Felt this coming, your mother…bad moon rising." Hutch released a deep sigh. "Hell of a way to take extra time off, Gordo." Hutch leaned forward and pulled his partner's hand to his chin as tears formed. "Don't leave me. Do you hear me, Buddy? Don't you leave me!" His lips pressed together as his chin quivered.
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Hutch remained by the bedside, leaned forward and draped his arms on the side placing his head on his arms. Starsky's hand still in his grasp. The remainder of the day things stayed the same, the blond at the bedside and the brunet in limbo. Huggy arrived with a large brown paper bag and entered Starsky's room quietly. Hutch just sat and held his friend's hand.
Huggy stood at the end of the bed. "I got some of your things, Hutch. Why don't you go shower and change? I'll stay with him. That hospital look is cramping your style."
Hutch acknowledged with a nod and sighed. He hesitantly released his hold on his partner's hand only to touch him again. His long fingers brushed the lifeless hand as though willing him to return the touch. Hutch took the bag and gently grabbed Huggy's shoulder on his way out.
Huggy sat by the bed and looked at his friend for almost 20 minutes in silence. He extended his hand to lie on top of Starsky's and tapped it lightly. "You gotta pull through Curly; Goldie Locks is lost without ya." His brown eyes scanned the motionless man in the bed. "I'm still waitin' on that Hutchinson manual. The one ya said you'd write on how to deal with your partner in times of…hell, I'm not you. He needs ya." Huggy looked around the room at all the monitors and tubes. "Who's gonna eat that Starsky special if ya check out? I don't say it cause it's bad for my reputation, but you're my bro. Now knock this crap off and wake up, will ya." Huggy pursed his lips, then frowned and started to tug at his brown jacket that covered a bright, canary yellow shirt.
Hutch slipped back in quietly and overheard what Huggy had said and smiled. Huggy watched for any sign of movement and bowed his head and noticed Hutch. He abruptly removed his hand and stood, sniffed and shuffled nervously. "Stubborn as a mule, sheer stubbornness." He walked past Hutch and out the door.
Hutch's hair was still damp as he dropped the bag next to his chair and sat. Captain Dobey entered with a basket of food and left it by the bed. Hutch ate the sandwich and vegetables that Edith Dobey packed for him.
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There was a knock on the door several hours later and a nurse entered. She was a petite blonde and smiled at Hutch. "Ken there are two detectives here to see you." Hutch stood, looked at his partner. "I'll be right back, Buddy." He stood there for a moment, subconsciously praying for a response, but none came.
In the hallway stood Simmons and Babcock. Hutch had his hand behind his neck. "Guys."
Simmons smiled, he glanced up and down the hallway, and asked inquisitively. "Any change with Starsky?"
Hutch shook his head no. Babcock extended a light touch, smiled and made eye contact. "Listen, we went to the rooftop and found casings that match the bullet that hit Starsky. They are military issued."
Hutch looked at him; he frowned. "Have you run this through Minnie so she can trace this on her computer?"
Simmons put his hands in his coat pockets. "She's working on that as we speak. The other thing is we found a matchbook for a no tell motel dive three miles from the station. A man was staying there-a military type of guy. Of course, he registered as John T. Smith. The front desk attendant is giving a description to a sketch artist."
Hutch rubbed his neck and started to pace; his voice was crisp. "It's a professional hit; you know as well as I do this jackass isn't going to stop until he's finished the job."
Babcock looked at Hutch. "Dobey has everyone working on this, Hutch. We'll keep you posted."
Hutch rubbed his face and nodded. The two detectives walked away and entered the elevator. Hutch took a deep breath and watched as they left. He noticed that the officer by the stairway was missing. Hutch turned to the officer at the door. "Cooper! Where the hell is Donovan?"
The officer looked down the hall. "He should be there, Hutch."
Hutch signaled the officer at the elevator, pulled his gun and walked toward the door at the stairway. He leaned his back against the wall and opened the door and entered with his gun in front of him. He looked down the stairwell and saw Donovan at the bottom of the landing unconscious on his back.
Hutch froze, shots were fired. He exited toward the hallway and saw Cooper holding his arm, blood seeped through his fingers.
"Hutch, he's injured, I shot him!" He pointed toward the elevator where another officer leaned against the wall injured. The elevator doors closed, the petite nurse appeared from behind the desk with her hand over her mouth.
Hutch ran into Starsky's room and made sure he was alright. He didn't seem to be disturbed. Hutch went back out to the counter and grabbed the phone and dialed. "This is Detective Hutchinson, dispatch backup, shots fired at Memorial Hospital. Call Captain Dobey and have him confirm."
The hallway filled with chaos and officers. The injured officers were taken to be treated. Hutch paced the hall as Dobey barked his orders. Hutch looked at the door of the ICU room where a bullet hole entered and missed its target by inches. He ran his right hand through his hair, and his stomach flipped as he took a deep breath to calm his nerves.
The Captain walked over to Hutch, exhaled. "Cooper said he hit him in the leg, he had a mask and was in full military fatigues."
Hutch's anger and fear combined, simmered within him like an over boiling tea kettle. "That's terrific, a bleeding military nut job! Dammit…DAMMIT! What the hell is going on here?" His voice carried down the hallway; it bit the air and every ear within the outburst.
At the desk, the petite nurse noticed Starsky's heart monitor increased, she rushed past Hutch and into the room. Hutch followed her along with Captain Dobey. Both men stood by the bed as the nurse checked his monitor. "His heart rate just spiked." Her voice held the sting of concern.
Hutch took Starsky's paled right hand, and took a deep breath and squeezed. "Easy…easy, Buddy. I'm okay." Hutch leaned closer to Starsky's ear and whispered. "I'm safe, Starsk. You're safe."
The nurse watched as the heart rate slowly decreased to a normal rhythm, she looked at Hutch. "He's responding to you, seems you're the best medicine." She smiled with amazement. "You'll excuse me while I retreat to the nearest chapel and thank the big guy?"
Hutch sat in the chair and took a deep breath and looked at the Captain. He knew the amount of danger his partner was in and it frightened him. But at that moment what he needed the most was for the brunet to open his eyes.
Dobey adjusted his coat. "I'll talk to the hospital administrator and get us a room to set up for surveillance." He walked out.
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The hospital staff wheeled a folding cot for Hutch and parked it by Starsky's bed. Hutch paced the room with his hands behind his neck.
"We got us a real nut, Starsk." Hutch walked over to the chair and sat down. He looked at the still form in front of him. "Dammit, Starsk. We've got limited information on this guy. How do I keep you safe? HOW?" Hutch's anger rose, and so did Starsky's heart rate. Hutch noticed and placed his hand on his partner's and gently squeezed. "Sorry, buddy. I'm worried, and frustrated. I don't know what to do." Hutch pulled himself as close as he could and took his partner's hand into the both of his and pulled it to his chin. "I want to go out there and get this bastard, but I can't leave you, won't leave you. The last time I left you…you. Let it go, Hutchinson, don't go there." The aftermath of James Gunther and his attempt at doing away with Starsky at the BCPD parking lot left Hutch with emotional and traumatic scars. Starsky coded when Hutch left the hospital to find the man who ordered his assassination.
Hutch placed his left arm down onto the bed and tucked the right arm over it and laid his head down. "Fear, the kind of fear you feel when your world is crashing down around you." Hutch looked at his partner's hand and closed his eyes. He opened them with unshed tears that threatened and sighed. "Come back to me, Gordo. I can't do this without you." Hutch began to sob quietly as the memories rushed through his mind along with panic and fear that overtook him.
Starsky sensed his partner and heard what he said, and blinked his eyes. The words echoed, they lead him out of a long dark tunnel to the light. He slowly raised his right hand and placed it on Hutch's head.
Hutch froze, blinked and slowly lifted his head and saw Starsky's hand which slid gently onto his stomach. He noticed two indigo blue eyes that glared at him. Starsky raised his right hand and touched Hutch's arm as a single tear rolled out of the corner of his right eye. Hutch smiled. "Welcome back, Buddy!" Starsky cleared his throat, awkwardly his mouth worked to form words. "Uuuuutch y-you, okay?
Hutch laughed, his eyes glimmered with tears of joy. "Am I okay? Me? Well I don't know, I'm told blond's are lousy in bed. I'm just fine now, Buddy. Welcome back!" Hutch radiated and was relieved. He rang for the nurse as he wiped his face; he reached and wiped his partner's stray tear.
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The doctor exited the room and met Hutch in the hallway; he shook his head. "I can't believe this. He's not out of the woods yet. Simply amazing. I can't believe it."
Hutch's smile beamed, Captain Dobey joined him. The doctor walked away, his head shook. Hutch put his hands to his face and sighed. "He's going to make it; Starsky is going to make it."
Captain Dobey smiled and released a deep sigh. "That's good news; now we need to keep him alive."
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A few days had passed and Starsky's strength improved. He had his arms crossed over his chest and tried to breathe through the pain he caused when he moved. He tried to inch himself up and caused his eyes to water. "Oh damn." His face cringed, teeth gritted.
The door swung open; Hutch carried a large two-toned paper cup and a brown paper bag. Starsky slumped back, gasped. Hutch placed the items on the food tray at his partner's feet. "Easy, Buddy. Let me help you." Hutch adjusted the bed which seemed to comfort his partner. He saw the pain and pent-up rainstorm of threatening tears in his partner's eyes. "Almost time for your meds?" He reached over and handed Starsky the paper cup. "Double chocolate milkshake and Edith sent some homemade vanilla pudding."
Starsky wiped his face and attempted to smile, but he felt depressed and was in a world of hurt. His every attempt to spark his boisterous personality met with discomfort and pain. "Thanks, Hutch." The words were softer than usual.
"Spill it, Starsk!" Hutch sat down and looked at his partner.
Starsky sipped the milkshake and leaned his head back. "You're exhausted. Everyone's on edge. The pain. No one's tellin' me anything! Doc says he's not sure if I'll completely recover this time." Starsky's hand trembled as he held the tall paper cup. He fought emotions, the words contained traces of anger. "M' sorry. I talked to Ma. She can't make it out here; her health isn't good. Nicky…he's Nicky." The sadness and disappointment slipped through the words.
Hutch sat back and crossed his arms, bowed his head. He took a deep breath. The blond knew his partner, and also knew that this mood wouldn't improve until he got all the answers. A deep sigh and the words escape his lips.
"I'm fine, Starsk. You are correct, I am tired. I'm scared and worried. A military rifle, actually an M16. The perp is 5'11 wearing army fatigues. Three officers were injured. Donovan got a shot into him, right leg. He's fine. The other two were treated and released the same day. According to Huggy, you were the intended target." The blond's tone remained calm. "Zooker was wasted and spilled his guts. He heard it from a hooker named Cassandra who's connected to Jax and the east coast." With his arms still crossed he leaned forward. "Starsk, my bet is on you making a full recovery! I'm sorry about your mother. As far as Nicky…good riddance." The blond raised his eyebrows, winked and waited for a reaction from his partner which came with a lighthearted smirk.
Hutch pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket that contained a sketch and handed it to his partner. Starsky took it; his eyes widen, his hands trembled, he took a deep breath and coughed as he examined the sketch. Not prepared for this reaction, which startled the blond, he pulled the chair closer. "Starsk, what's wrong? Talk to me?"
Starsky wouldn't look at Hutch, the piece of paper fell onto his lap, and he closed his eyes and opened them again. "Tony Raynori aka Trigger."
Hutch looked at him in shock, his mouth opened and the crease was present on his forehead. "You know this guy?"
Starsky nodded. "He works for, Boris Nunzio." He runs a prostitution ring along with money laundering, a drug runner for Jax. Boris is a wannabe mobster back East and former rival to Durniak."
Hutch sat on the edge of his seat, his eyes glued to his partner. "What does this have to do with you?"
Starsky crossed his arms over his chest and winced; he took a deep breath. "I put Boris's little brother away just before we became partners, Louijie Nunzio. He raped and murdered a sixteen-year-old girl. Little brother committed suicide and Boris, well, he ain't too stable. Trigger and I were in the same platoon; you could say we were rivals." The uneasiness and shock were evident in his features.
Hutch sat, his eyes questioned, before his voice. "Are you sure, Starsk?"
Starsky rubbed his chest and nodded. "Yeah! As sure as you are a natural blond." The note of sarcasm hung in the air. The disdained expression and right hand draped over the burnet's chest displayed he was uncomfortable with the conversation. "Boris took care of Trigger before Nam, raised him like a little brother. He lost his mom and pop. We were stationed together. Trigger did everything to provoke me, on the streets when we were kids, then Nam. I was the top marksman on my team, and he was on his." The look in Starsky's eyes indicated he was in deep thought. "He promised to do me in on more than one occasion. Last I heard he never made it out of the jungle. Boris did time, ten to fifteen on prostitution and drug trafficking." Starsky leaned his head back on the pillow, his jaw tightened.
Hutch stood and begun to pace, and his hands moved nervously at his side. He stopped briefly and faced the man in bed. "Chances are Boris has been sprung and back in action and set Trigger after you or Trigger has an ax to grind on his own."
Starsky closed his eyes, sighed and opened them. " My bet is both. I know I don't talk about it…Nam. I just…"
Hutch bowed his head and raised his eyes to meet his partner's, he smiled. "It's okay, Starsk."
The uneasiness was evident from the man in bed. Hutch sat next to his partner. Starsky crossed his arms over his chest again. "Promise, I'll tell ya someday."
Hutch nodded and looked at his partner as concern crossed over his face. "Only if it helps you heal. Right now we need to keep you alive."
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In another sleazy motel, Trigger sat drinking a bottle of Jack Daniels as sweat poured down his face. The crew cut, the distant look, and hardness now plague his once boyish features and exhibit coldness. The years of running and hiding did him no justice. He was an army fanatic, but not what the US qualifies as the good guy, and he was the enemy.
His leg was wrapped with white gauze and bloodstained; he wore discolored, faded army fatigue pants. The phone rang. He reached for it. "Yeah."
Bruno sat in a large leather chair and chewed the end of his cigar. He spits the contents into a brass bucket near his desk. The sound of the leather chair filled the room as he leaned back; his head touched the stained leather headrest. His thin black mustache matched the greasy slicked back hair. Years of prison brawls left scars and aged his pasty olive skin. "Any news, Trigger?"
The injured man guzzled the booze and gasped. "I've been hit Bruno, minor setback; I'll get him."
Bruno sighed; he took his cigar and placed it onto a clear glass ashtray on the desk in front of him. The discontent was evident on the rough, aged features of his face. "I'm paying you good money, Trigger! Get the son-of-a-bitch. I can't afford any more issues at that end. He's gotta pay for Louijie." His words were sharp. "How serious you hit?"
"Nothing serious, survived worse. I'll get him!" Trigger hung up the phone and pulled a knife from his pocket, and he sliced through the white wrapping around his leg. He cringed and begun to dig the bullet out of his leg. He poured the dark amber liquid of booze onto the open wound of his leg. His face twisted in pain as he retrieved the bullet and held it between his bloody fingers and laughed. "You get a few more days, Detective David Michael Starsky."
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Over a week and a half since the shooting and Starsky prepared to be released. He sat on the bed in his jeans and T-shirt with a blue windbreaker. He adjusted the jacket, checked his gun holster and gun. He touched his chest and took a deep painful breath. "Nice and slow, Davey."
Hutch supported a broad smile and pushed his way in with a wheelchair. "Ready? It's not red with a white stripe, but it does have wheels and a good looking blond driver."
Starsky chuckled. He stood slowly and made his way over to the chair and eased himself in causing discomfort. "Good lookin'? Nah, you're more the cute type. Your driving is questionable."
The hallway was busy with police presence; Captain Dobey waited along with Simmons and Babcock. The five men entered the elevator and exited through the employee only entrance at the back of the hospital. Starsky escorted to Babcock's car, with the assistance of his partner via the wheelchair. Captain Dobey waved the four men off, as he glanced around.
After they drove for an hour and all were certain there was no one tailing, Starsky arrived at the safe house on a dead end street. The houses were modestly spaced and private. Hutch assisted his partner up the stairway as Simmons and Babcock pulled away. The door was opened by Huggy from the inside as he greeted them with a huge smile. "Mi CASA su CASA." The inside was well furnished; the décor of pale blue walls set a tone for a California beach vibe.
Starsky staggered over to the large, brown comfortable chair and eased himself in as beads of sweat poured down his face. "This isn't bad, Hug," Starsky remarked with a strained voice.
Hutch went the window and glanced and made sure no one followed. He looked at his partner. "You okay?"
Starsky grinned and wiped his forehead. "Oh yeah, ready for round two and maybe an all nighter with a brunette."
Huggy smiled, adjusted his bright red neckerchief, which clashed with his purple and yellow attire and headed for the door. "It's good to see you, Curly. I got a business to run. You have all the supplies you'll need, plus a Starsky special in the brown bag."
Starsky smirked. "You're the greatest, Hug. Thanks!"
Huggy grinned and looked at Hutch. "I am the greatest and don't you forget it. Be safe!"
Hutch bowed his head and glanced at his partner with worry and fear that plagued his thoughts.
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At the hospital, Captain Dobey remained along with a decoy in the room that pretended to be Starsky. Trigger appeared in the parking garage of the hospital dressed in scrubs and a name tag. He appeared as everyone else except for the slight limp. He headed to the elevator and exited on the ICU floor. Quickly he hid in the linen closet. He peered through the opened door and watched the flow of traffic as two officers walked by and exited the stairway.
Simmons and Babcock stood at the end of the hallway near the linen closet and looked around. Babcock checked his watch. "They should be settled by now."
Simmons adjusted the sleeves of his white shirt, tucked under the gray suit. "Starsky knows this guy from Nam, some hotshot with a gun." He gestured with a hand, pulled his sleeve.
Babcock looked toward the closet and noticed the door was open. He caught his partner's attention with the movement of his eyes as he spoke. "Starsky is on the mark with his gun, can't imagine this guy doing any better." He looked at Simmons and moved his eyes to the closet.
In the closet, Trigger shook off the comment that bruised his ego and gathered some linen. He pushed the cart, opened the door and headed toward the two detectives. Both men watched him suspiciously as he smiled at them and wheeled down the hall toward Starsky's room.
Simmons looked at his partner and back at the man who pushed the cart and noticed the slight limp. "Excuse me, Sir?" Trigger stopped and pulled a handgun from under his shirt and spun around and fired several rounds. Babcock was hit in the shoulder, and Simmons landed on the floor and returned fire. Trigger kicked the door to Starsky's room and fired as the man in the bed fell to the floor and returned fire. Trigger escaped down the hall through a set of metal doors that he locked behind him and entered an elevator at the end of the hall.
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At the safe house, Hutch exited the bathroom and entered a bedroom to the right and grabbed a shirt he put over his T-shirt. He entered the living room and found his partner asleep in the large leather EZ-chair, with a blanket. Hutch sat on the arm of the couch a few feet away and watched his partner. He took a deep breath as memories of a much earlier scare with Gunther, and three bullets almost took his best friend away. Hutch closed his eyes and tried to shake the horrible memories away. Both men startled when the phone rang. Hutch reached for the handset and answered. "Hello." The expression on his face caught Starsky's attention. Hutch rubbed the bridge of his nose. "How bad? Yeah, thanks, Captain." He dropped the handset in the cradle and shook his head. "Trigger made his appearance. Babcock's in surgery, he was hit in the shoulder."
Starsky adjusted himself to sit upright with a grimaced look of pain and shouted. "Fuck, it's me he wants, Hutch! I should never have let you and Dobey convince me to leave." Hutch looked at his partner; his eyes were glazed. "What's your point?"
Starsky put the palms of his hand to his eyes and rubbed vigorously, anger simmered. "My point, Hutch, is four cops have been injured because of me. I'm hiding out like a coward."
Hutch stood and paced; his shoulders were stiff. "Forget it Starsk; you are not a coward for Christ sakes…you almost died!" Hutch replied with more of a bite in his tone than intended.
Starsky pushed the blanket off his lap and slowly and awkwardly stood and walked toward the bedroom on the left. Hutch was caught off guard; he questioned his partner. "Where are you going?"
Starsky stopped, took a deep breath as he kept his back to Hutch. "You don't understand, Hutch. He won't stop; it's a challenge and game for him. The guy is a worm, but not when it comes to following through with his threats. I need to end it!"
Hutch walked over to his partner with his hand behind his neck. He stopped next to him. Neither one made eye contact. "How? Starsky in your condition…huh!" His voice was soft, calm.
Starsky bowed his head, pinched his lips together. He felt hopeless, guilty and Hutch questioned his ability. "In my condition? It sounds like you're having doubts about my recovery, partner? At least I wouldn't feel like a coward, and you wouldn't be second-guessing me." He tightened his jaw and walked into the bedroom and slammed the door.
Hutch placed both hands to his face, cupped and rubbed briskly. He pulled his hands away and looked up at the ceiling. "Damn you, Starsky! That's not what I meant, and you know it." His voice was loud, he raised his hands up in a, 'I give up manner.'
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Starsky lay on propped pillows, and stared at the wall across from him. The soft sage green wall housed a portrait of a seascape. He sat up and placed his feet on the floor and looked at the closet door where his gun and gun holster hung. Starsky grabbed the phone from the nightstand and dialed. "Ma, yes…yes. Ma I'm fine." Starsky smiled as he listened to his mother. "Are you feeling better?" He rubbed the side of his face, grinned. "Good Ma, listen I just called to tell you I'm okay and…that I love you." Starsky's face saddened. "You rest, okay? I love you, Ma. Good night." The handset was placed gently onto the cradle of the phone. He sat there deep in thought; he looked at his gun again and lightly rubbed his chest.
Hutch knocked, paused briefly and turned the doorknob and entered. "Are you hungry?"
Starsky shook his head no as Hutch walked over and sat next to him. The blond left little distance between them. He bowed his head, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "Starsk…huh." His voice was soft and his expression sad as he raised his eyes to looked at Starsky. "What I said earlier, I didn't mean it the way it came out. I…um."
Starsky turned to him and placed his hand on his forearm and smirked. "Forget it; I know you've never doubted me. M…sorry. Truth is I'm doubting myself." Starsky scratched his head and sighed. "This guy, he brings back some bad memories. A time I would rather forget. Someone and something I became and created to survive." His voice thick, and evidence that those times were not good. A knock on the door alerted them both. Hutch retrieved his gun from his holster as Starsky slowly made his way to his gun. Hutch went to the door gun ready. "Who is it?"
A familiar voice barked loudly. "It's Charlie Pride who else do you think it is, Hutchinson?" Hutch chuckled as he opened the door to his Captain and Simmons.
Hutch holstered his gun as Starsky walked out of the bedroom slowly with his hand held over his chest. Captain Dobey looked at Starsky and growled. "Would you sit down or something."
Starsky shook his head and walked to the leather chair and sat, he looked at his Captain and tilted his head. "How's Babcock?"
Simmons smirked and replied. "He pulled through surgery and is bitching up a storm."
The Captain sat on the arm of the couch as Hutch stood next to him, he sighed before he spoke. "We received word from New York; Nunzio has been apprehended on unrelated charges. Chief Stayzak was able to trace numerous phone calls placed here to Bay City. The numbers match the hotels and a certain John T. Smith. Along with a bank, there appears to be a sum of $50,000 wired to a local bank in the care of Anthony Raynori."
Hutch looked at his partner and pointed with excitement. "One down."
Simmons pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and held it; he looked at Starsky. "This was delivered to the station by a street kid who was promised a ten bucks." He walked over and handed it to Starsky.
Starsky opened it; his hands trembled as he read it out loud. "It's not over until it's over Davey, you cocky son-of-a-bitch. I left you there in Nam to die, lucky shot. Let's solve the mystery who's the better shot you or me? Only this time you die. I will find you!" Starsky's face remained expressionless.
Hutch walked over and took the note from his partner. "This is just great!" The anger poured through his words, and rage glazed his fiery blue eyes. A tone reserved by the blond and expressed when his partner and friend was in danger.
The Captain stood, adjusted and tugged at his waistband. "This just went from a hired hit to a personal vendetta. Hutch, I'll need you to work with Simmons."
Starsky stood abruptly, almost fell. Hutch's quick reflexes supported him.
"NO! It's me he wants! I'm sorry about Babcock, and the others. No more…you put Hutch out there; this gorilla knows he's my partner. He'll be just as much of a target as I am." Starsky appeared tethered in his partner's grip, but his hard features told another story. His voice was crisp, and distinctly different and cold. His eyes pooled to orbs of darkness, the hundred mile stare.
Simmons noticed the change in the frail brunet. "Starsky's right, Captain."
Starsky took a deep breath and rubbed his chest; he tried to avert the psychological effects of a man in survival mode. The blackness and scars of Vietnam were brought to the surface and gave a snapshot of what it does to a man. The nasty taste of brutal trauma and war. The eyes of the walking dead who disconnect to do what was necessary for survival. The eyes of darkness that lead to a forever damaged soul. Hutch felt the effects through the frail body he held, and witnessed the change in his partner's eyes. Something he'd never seen before and feared.
I…was a POW. Trigger and I were." Starsky slowly and carefully with assistance, sat back down, arms across the chest. "There were ten of us with long range rifle skills. Trigger and I were rivals; pinned against each other by the Viet Kong, he lost. Forgive me if I'd rather not go into details, once was enough. We didn't know at the time that they would kill the losing shot's men. They made us watch their torture. He snapped, escaped into the jungle." Starsky's words trailed, and his voice cracked. The previous darkness that had settled in his eyes dulled and returned to blue.
Simmons looked at Hutch and Captain Dobey, he rubbed his hands together. "Starsky you weren't responsible then or now." Simmons went to the door.
Captain Dobey looked at Hutch. "We'll figure something out. You boys get some rest. Starsky…Dave, you're right. It would be too dangerous for Hutch." The Captain followed Simmons out the door with his head bowed.
Hutch walked over, stooped and placed his hands on the back of the couch and bowed his head. "Starsk, I didn't know. I can't pretend to know what you've been through."
Starsky rubbed the side of his head and crossed both arms over his chest as his eyes threatened tears. He fought the emotions, he gritted his teeth together.
"Chapter one Blondie, more to follow. Ghosts of the past-only these don't wear white sheets." He attempted to push the humor, his eyes glazed with unshed tears.
Hutch looked over; he could see his partner was on the verge of falling apart. He slowly walked over and sat on the coffee table in front. He placed his hand on the folded arms that lay on his partner's chest. Deliberately he focused his blue eyes, without judgment. He displayed empathy. "Let it go, buddy. It's just you and me."
Starsky forced a smile, took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling and back down. "You know I hate soapy scenes." The smile and humor faded as a single tear slid down his left cheek; he lowered his head as though he were ashamed.
Hutch stood, and reached out and helped his friend to his feet. He pulled him into a gentle embrace. Hutch's jaw tightened, his hand cupped the back of his partner's head. Starsky buried his face into his partner's shoulder as his body shook, soft sobs were released.
"Buddy, I'm here!" The blond's voice comforted and reassured. He leaned his head against the soft brunet curls. "Let it go."
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It was late morning at The Pits. Huggy was preparing to open when the phone rang, he reached for it. "The Pits."
The voice on the other end was thick and deep. "This is Bay City PD; Detective Hutchinson requested we contact you regarding a delivery of the usual. He claimed you would know what that meant."
Huggy shrugged his shoulders, raised one eyebrow. "To whom am I am speaking to?"
The caller hesitated, cleared his voice. "This is Officer O'Reilly."
Huggy sighed. "Thanks, I'll take care of it."
At Bay City PD an operator answered the phone. "Bay City PD this is Officer Donnolly, yes." A long pause, he widened his eyes. "I'll see what I can do. Thank you."
The operator dialed out. The phone rang at the safe house. Hutch retreated from the bathroom as he buttoned his shirt and answered the phone. "I got it, Starsk. Hello." The operator lowered his voice, as he looked around.
"Hutch, its Donnolly. Say, someone named Huggy called, said you needed to get to The Pits immediately, something about Army Boy roughed him up."
Hutch turned to Starsky standing behind him, he swallowed. "Yeah, thanks, Donnolly I'll take care of it." Hutch placed his finger on the hook switch to disconnect. He dialed the phone and received a busy signal at the other end. He finished dressing and put his holster on. "Donnolly called and says Huggy called him; something about Army Boy roughed him up."
Starsky stood there, concern shadowed his face. "Hutch, this could be a setup. Why didn't Huggy call us himself?"
Hutch paused, and then grabbed his jacket, he smiled. "I'll be okay, Starsk."
Starsky stiffly made his way to the closet and grabbed his gun and holster. Hutch gently grasped his arm, his eyes focusing on his partner. "Starsk?" Hutch grabbed a cap and put some sunglasses on.
Starsky remained with his hand still on his holster. His eyes still locked onto his partner, his mouth open like a startled boy.
"Lock the door; I'll be right back. Oh, shower will you, you're a little ripe, Gordo!" Hutch headed out the door with a smirk on his face. Starsky stuck his tongue out and lifted one arm to sniff; he frowned as he placed the gun and holster on the table.
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Hutch arrived at Huggy's to find the door locked; he pulled his gun and knocked. Huggy opened the door. "My man, you that hungry?"
Hutch looks at him, confused. "Hungry? I thought you were in trouble?"
Huggy stepped back, his expression read puzzled. He followed the blond as he spoke. "Yeah, someone named O'Reilly called from BCPD requested your usual, I got Gus on his way to deliver."
Hutch froze, his eyes widening. "Huggy, how long ago?"
Huggy looked at his watch. "20 minutes ago, why?"
Hutch went to the nearest phone on the bar; he dialed frantically. "Starsky's in trouble."
Huggy's mouth opened, as he fidgeted with the collar of his red shirt.
Hutch waited, the phone line rang with no answer, "Come on Starsky answer…ANSWER!"
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At the safe house, Trigger encountered Gus and knocked him out and retrieved the delivery. He pulled the unconscious man into the beige delivery car and closed the door. He slipped a ball cap on his head and headed toward the house. Starsky sat at the table reading a newspaper when he heard the knock on the door. He slipped his Beretta out of his gun holster on the table and made his way to the door and leaned to the side with his back to the wall. "Who is it?"
The man cleared his throat. "Delivery from The Pits, this is Gus."
Starsky knew it wasn't Gus because he didn't speak English. He leaned his head back, his eyes wide. "Sorry, you have the wrong place, pal." Starsky moved near the bathroom when a barrage of bullets came through the door; he turned and fired several shots toward the door. He then proceeded to the kitchen and hid behind the counter. He pulled the phone off the counter and dialed. The phone was dead. Trigger shot off a few more rounds. The door was shattered with bullet holes and opened.
Starsky pressed his right arm against his chest and took a deep breath. He placed the left hand forward holding his weapon. The pain in his chest was almost unbearable. Trigger dove onto the living room floor. He landed and rolled behind the couch. "Davey, is that any way to greet an old friend?" His voice was sinister and demeaning.
Starsky lifted his right hand and wiped the perspiration from his forehead and eyes. He looked toward the open door. His breathing was rapid and wheezy. "Coward is more fitting." The wheezing made it difficult for him to respond, his face cringed. The wailing of a siren in the distance comforted him. Starsky instinctively knew his partner was on the way. He fired several rounds and leaped forward. He rolled and landed just beyond the couch and back onto his feet. Firing a shot, he hit Trigger in the shoulder. The brunet felt the violation of pain from his chest, exited unsteadily, but with precision speed.
Trigger fell onto his back firing and missing Starsky by inches. Starsky held his chest, and gasped. He made it out to the street and dropped to his knees. Hutch pulled up and bolted out of the car dragging his partner to safety. They hid behind the car. Hutch had his gun in hand as he looked up at the house and back to his partner who was pale and gasping for air. "Easy buddy, you hit anywhere?"
Starsky shook his head in response; he fought to keep his composure. "I got him in the shoulder." He closed his eyes, coughed.
There were several shots fired, hitting Hutch's car. The sound of the bullet echoed from hitting the metal. Hutch ducked and covered his partner with his body. "We need to get you out of here!" Hutch riddled with anxiety, his voice stern and short.
Starsky shook his head, coughed. "I need to finish this, Hutch! I need to finish this!" Starsky looked at him as two sets of blue eyes locked.
"Are you out of your mind? No!" The blond's voice loud and direct.
Starsky loaded his gun and groaned from the pain in his chest. "I'll cover ya! Hutch, please?"
The look of pain tugged at Hutch's heart. He puts his head down and looked back up at him, his eyes pleading with his partner. "So help me Starsky, I'll strangle you myself! And yes, you are out of your mind."
Starsky laughed and winked. "I'm bananas; I love ya too, Blintz."
Hutch touched his shoulder and nodded as Starsky began to shoot; Hutch lunged and ran a few yards away behind a large boulder. As bullets ricochet, he dove to the ground and rolled.
In the house, Trigger reloaded and made his way to the door, his shoulder bleeding, he was winded and in obvious pain. "Davey, this is between you and me, hot shot! Get your attack dog off of me, or I will waste him. Do you hear me?" The man in obvious pain spoke loud and direct, he meant business.
Starsky peered over the car to see where Hutch was hidden. A shot was fired inches from Hutch.
"My partner's just doin' what you shoulda done back in Nam, you coward." Starsky barked between gritted teeth.
Hutch raised his gun to get a shot when Trigger noticed him and fired, shooting the gun out of Hutch's hand. He examined his hand, no injury.
Starsky witnessed this, now on his knees, gun readied. "Hutch, stay down!" Starsky prepared himself and checked his gun once more. He took a deep breath as though the air contained something to give him some super power. His face changed, coldness, and darkness overshadowed. "Okay, you fucking low life, remember rice patch rumble?"
Trigger fell against the door frame as a grin came over his face. "Yeah, you serious? Always thought you were on a suicide mission!" The man laughed.
Starsky closed his eyes and took several more breaths. "It's only suicide if I get killed, punk."
Hutch frantically looked for his gun, glancing toward the direction of his partner. "Starsky back up will be here; just stand down."
A shot was fired toward Hutch once again as he lay on the ground. Starsky stood, his gun in left hand ahead of him, his eyes were no longer blue, they were black spheres. Hutch was in danger; he was in survival mode. "Come out; come out where ever ya are?" The words came out cold and playfully, a sly grin, not the million dollar one that Hutch had come so accustom to and cherished.
Hutch raised his head enough to see his partner and didn't recognize the man. The man he called his partner was now a soldier, back in the jungle and going to do what was necessary to survive, to save his partner. "STARSKY? Oh shit!"
Trigger stepped out with his gun in front of him; blood ran down his arm as he staggered. "Davey Starsky, it's been a long time, now say goodbye!" He cocked the gun in his hand and fired.
Starsky rolled to the right and a shot. The bullet struck Trigger in the chest. The gun in Trigger's hand remained pointed at Starsky. He moved in closer for another shot, missing the brunet target. Starsky rolled to the left and fired another shot hitting Trigger in the stomach as he landed back on his feet.
Trigger stood there as blood poured from his mouth and the gun fell from his hand to the ground. "Best man wins! Lucky shot." The words slurred as he slowly fell to the ground.
Hutch ran to the man and kicked the gun away as he crouched and felt for a pulse. The blond shook his head; he took a deep breath to calm himself. "What the hell was that?" His head bowed, voice loud, he looked up at Starsky whose eyes were still blacked out. Hutch, visibly shaken, stood and watched as his partner slowly regained his composure. The gun trembled in his hand and his eyes once again an indigo hue. Starsky dropped the gun and fell to his knees and crossed his arms over his chest. Hutch ran to him and caught him before he went down entirely and embraced him. "I got you, Buddy." His voice softer, comforting, the previous burst of fear and anger gone. The sound of sirens is the distance was a welcoming sign.
Hutch fell back onto his behind. He held his partner from behind, resting him against his chest. The brunet's eyes are wide open. His face covered in sweat. Starsky raised his left hand to Hutch's arm brushing it with his fingers comfortingly. "Did I get him?" His words slurred. Hutch grabbed his hand and squeezed, and chuckled. "You got him double O7!" Hutch laughed, Starsky rolled his eyes and snorted. The screeching of tires and police presence encompassed the once quiet dead end street.
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Starsky stood by the kitchen counter of his apartment on the phone. He tugged at the plaid long sleeve shirt. The front door opened with Hutch holding a bag of groceries. He walked in and paused when he noticed his partner on the phone.
Starsky took a long, deep breath. "Thanks Doc, yes." His lips pursed. He didn't move for a moment and gently dropped the handset onto the cradle of the phone.
Hutch kept his eyes locked on his partner as he approached him. He dropped the grocery bag on the table, feeling slightly uneasy. "Everything okay?" He asked very softly.
Starsky rolled the sleeve of his shirt, his expression solemn. He turned away from Hutch as he grinned, trying to keep himself from laughing. "Ah, no. I'm afraid I don't have good news." His shoulders tightened.
Hutch noticed this immediately and stood behind him. He raised his right hand and dropped it as concern and fear etch his features. "What is it, Starsk?" Again his voice soft, caring.
Starsky hunched forward, grinning from ear to ear, his shoulders quivered. He regained control and cleared his throat. "I…um…well. Doc says..." He reached to cover his mouth with his left hand, fighting laughter.
Hutch prepared himself for the bad news. He took a deep breath. "Whatever it is we can handle it, buddy." He fumbled with his fingers; his jaw tensed for the bad news.
Starsky stood there; tears rolled down his face from holding back his laughter. He wiped them. Hutch caught site of this action, and grabbed his partner's arm and turns him around abruptly. His eyes sad and comforting.
Starsky looked at him, his chin quivered. "I'm sorry to tell you partner, you're stuck with me. I got clearance to return to duty." He burst into laughter.
Hutch stared at his partner, no expression, eyes full, round and wide; he raised his right hand and pointed. His eyes glossed with the tears that had begun to form, but now glistened with anger. "You, I thought you...I could strangle you!" His finger wavered in front of Starsky's face.
Starsky's smirk faded. "I was just kidding; I'm okay. Me and thee, pal." Hutch's finger inched closer, his eyes wild.
"Oh, you got that right. Buddy, old pal. Only one thing, Me is considering replacing thee." Hutch inched his finger closer. He raised his left hand and invaded his partner's space, with a hand formed in preparation to strangle.
Starsky smiled, but as though he was in pain. "Hutch, I was just kidding, come on now, Blintz." The brunet's face etched with panic; he cringed. The blond's large hands came closer. Starsky spun and ran with Hutch following out the door.
The End…well the end of the story not me and thee.