Cut and Broken sequel

by ElspethNZ

Hutch is still emotionally recovering from his ordeal with heroin. His friendship with Starsky proves to be hard going and Forest's men appear back on the scene.

"CUT AND BROKEN" - SEQUEL

by: Elspeth

It sure felt strange to be able to sleep in on a Monday morning Starsky thought, but both he and Hutch were still on 'special' leave that Dobey had granted them after Hutch's ordeal at the hands of Ben Forest the week before. Any other time Starsky would have delighted in an excuse for time off but he knew he would give anything right now to have been able to erase the last week.

Man, it had been one hell of a ride. Starsky felt totally wrung out, but he wouldn't have wished it to be any other way. He could, only imagine what torture Hutch had gone through while being held captive and now the long road back would take some time to travel. He had flown to New York for his mom's birthday that weekend. He had only just returned the night before to find Hutch in bad shape. They had fought - with words and with fists and Starsky had stormed out in a daze after being told in no uncertain terms to 'get the hell out'. It didn't take long, though, for him to turn right back around and take his best friend in his arms.

Now Hutch yielded to Starsky's embrace and hung his head as the tears found their way to the surface.

"I'm sorry, Starsk, I... I just can't cope without you right now. Please don't leave me again. Promise me... promise me, Starsk." His weary body trembled in the other's arms.

"Shh, it's okay. It's okay. I'm not goin' anywhere again. I'm right here for ya."

The brunet took his arms from around the blond and put his hands on the other's face. He gently pulled Hutch's head up until they were eye to eye.

"Just tell me, Hutch, why it felt so bad that you had to hurt yourself like that?"

Hutch now pulled away from the hands that held his face with such tenderness. He sat further back into the couch and let his head fall, as his eyes could not bear to look at his partner's.

"I don't know. I couldn't think straight. I saw the marks and hated them so much I... I just wanted to get them out, out of my body. They're like some horrible tattoo I never asked for. They disgust me Starsk, and they sure as heck disgusted the broad I brought home, too."

"What broad?"

"Oh, I felt I had to prove to myself I was still 'Handsome Hutch'. " He half laughed. "I went down to O'Malley's, got drunk as a skunk and brought a girl back, hoping I'd get lucky. Feel loved... be loved..." His voice trailed off.

Starsky hadn't heard of O'Malley's but presumed it was some local Venice bar that he had probably seen a hundred times but had never paid attention to the name.

"Only it didn't quite work out like that." He laughed quietly again.

"We were going to make out and she... she saw my track marks. Basically, split the scene pronto you might say, as soon as she could. Called me a... a... junkie and thought I was some serial rapist as well, no doubt."

He now raised his eyes to look directly at Starsky. "Pretty pathetic, huh, Starsk?"

"Aw, buddy, those marks will be gone before you know it. Come on let's have a look at that arm."

He leaned across to gently take Hutch's left hand in his own and turned the forearm over to survey the damage that Forest's henchmen had done, and now the self inflicted damage Hutch had caused. He still could not believe how he had underestimated the depth of depression his partner must have been feeling to do this to himself.

"It's okay but we really need to dress it properly to stop any infection. Just hang on a minute."

He rose from the couch and went into the bathroom. He returned a moment later with some light gauze and antiseptic cream.

"This might sting a bit, but it has to be cleaned, Hutch. It looks pretty raw and weepy. When you do a job, you sure do it well, buddy," he said with a grimace.

He took Hutch's hand again and liberally put the cream over the entire inner forearm where Hutch had dragged some sort of blade methodically down from, the crook of his elbow to just above his wrist.

Despite the blood and guts he had become accustomed to over the years, the sight of this wound on his partner sickened him to his very core. He was still trying to contemplate Hutch having the determination to harm himself this way. Hutch inhaled a long, shallow breath as the cold cream made contact with the raw wound.

"Sorry, buddy, but it's got to be done."

"It's okay, Starsk. Just do whatever you need to."

Starsky gently and liberally squeezed the cream over the inflamed skin. He looked into the blond's eyes and gently patted Hutch's thigh as he spoke. "Hutch, promise me you won't do this again? Nothin' is that bad that we can't handle it okay?"

Hutch nodded and bowed his head to hide the physical and mental pain he felt. He couldn't believe that he had actually done harm to himself and wasn't even going to try to figure it out. That was just too hard right now. One step at a time, slow and steady, he thought.

When Starsky had finished tending to his patient, he rose from the couch with all the medical paraphernalia and headed to the bathroom to return it. On his return to the living room he saw Hutch now lying full length on the couch staring at the ceiling. He went and sat beside him, cross-legged on the floor.

"Hey, hows' about say we head out for some lunch and I'll even let you choose where?"

"Yeah, right, Starsk. Like your gonna let me take you to some health food cafe? What would you order? Nah, I'll go easy on ya, Starsk. Let's go Italian. At least we both like something on the menu that way. Sounds great, Starsk. Thanks for askin'"

He looked down at Starsky and for the first time in a long time gave him a pearly white grin.

"Yeah, all right! Come on, I'll help ya up." He pulled on Hutch's good arm to lever him off the couch.

Yeah, everything would be okay, Starsky thought.

They both had the rest of that week off and were due back to work the following Monday. Starsky stuck to Hutch like glue and was there for the long talks and to answer all the 'Why me' questions.

Oh, how he hated to hear what Hutch had gone through with Forest but he knew he had to hear and Hutch had to tell, otherwise they both knew the fallout would be ten times worse. His partner was excellent at trying to keep his true feelings hidden and bottle things up, but Starsky spent the week slowly, bit by bit coaxing out of him what he could. It was hard at times not to break down himself when Hutch described how he had been blindfolded, wrists bound and the tourniquet forced around his unwilling arm. How the needles had hurt him when they were jabbed with no care or caution into his veins. Then Hutch, recalling when the craving kicked in and how he longed for the sharpness of the needle in his flesh. The guilt Hutch felt at betraying his beautiful Jeannie who was no more, the guilt at pleading and yelling at his partner to get him the 'stuff'

They thrashed it all out until they could no more. The tears had been shed; the anger had been expelled, bounced back and forth until pure exhaustion overtook them both. Then Starsky would take Hutch in a tight embrace and hold the man who was like a brother to him, gently, until this round of tears ceased.

With Hutch harming himself like he did, he felt he was in need of some professional counselling, so with a lot of help from Starsky he had made his first appointment. Hutch had begrudgingly gone to several sessions now, but found that he was feeling a lot better. Just to be able to talk it through with someone who was impartial and would not judge him was helping.

Some nights, Hutch had asked Starsky to stay in his bed until he fell asleep as he was too frightened of the demons that might visit. The demons still came, but eventually the nightmares lessened and he began to feel more at ease with his own company and his own space, which had been violated.

By the weekend he felt more in control but still very fragile and vulnerable. The woman he loved had gone and he longed to feel her in his arms again but knew it could not be.

Come Sunday afternoon they enjoyed a great lunch at 'Emmanuels' in Venice and then after a short walk along the beach headed back to the cottage. In the late afternoon after two lengthy games of Monopoly, Hutch was starting to tire and Starsky could sense it. He felt a tension in the air as the day drew to a close maybe knowing that Hutch was going to have to be back in the real and ugly world tomorrow and anxiety was rearing its head.

"Hutch, you look beat. Why don't ya hit the hay and I'll clean up a bit? We gotta be outta here by 7:30 tomorrow. Hit those mean streets again, partner. Bring in the bad guys. Save the world and all that."

Hutch let out a quiet laugh and smiled.

". Guess I'm about done for today." He paused and then looked right into those steely blue eyes he knew so well.

"Thanks for holding my hand this week, and always being here for me, Starsk. I can't do it on my own right now."

"Oh, stop it, who else would help ya? No one else would put up with you, Hutchinson!" He laughed.

All felt right with the world. His partner was back.

The week went well, though they both thought the 'special leave' for a week had gone too quickly. But they both had a job to do and Dobey had been more than generous with them and they knew it.

He had purposely let them ease back into things making sure they didn't take on too many cases in their first few days. Unfortunately crime waves have no pattern and the bad guys are out working their butts off 24/7 and then some.

Starsky was pleased to see Hutch getting more muscle tone back and now he was back to doing the occasional jog, the tan was returning to his skin. He was still a tad on the lean side but no one but they would have known.

While the physical healing was complete, Starsky was hard pressed to know how the mental side was going as whenever he asked Hutch how he really was, the answer was always the same:

"I'm fine, Starsk. Quit worrying."

God, he really was turning into a Jewish mother, he thought!

Early in their first week back Hutch had insisted Starsky go back to his own place before the neighbours thought he'd taken off to Brazil as he put it. Starsky reluctantly agreed. He was tired of getting a sore backside from sleeping on Hutch's couch, though would never have admitted it. After much debating, Starsky agreed to return to his own apartment on the condition Hutch call him any time, day or night that he needed him.

Hutch was starting to feel in control of his feelings again and kept reminding himself when he was on a 'downer' that he was the victim and had no power or control over what had happened. That had been taken from him and the heroin had invaded his soul on its own path of destruction.

A bad day on the streets was always what hit him the hardest. He would come home to his empty cottage and sometimes just sit in the darkness, alone. He knew Starsky was only a phone call away but he was also aware that he'd put him though a lot and he needed to give the guy some space. Time for him to get back to his own life and back to entertaining the ladies again.

Hutch had not been so lucky in that department since losing Jeannie. He felt it was too soon to start dating again and had politely declined Starsky's invitations to double date. Truth be told he'd lost his nerve and hoped it would soon return. No, things weren't the same since his ordeal and he wondered if they ever would be. He knew he was depressed but hoped time would ease it away.

A few weeks later and Hutch waved goodbye to Starsky as he dropped him at his cottage after their working day. He collected his mail as he went in and saw a small package wrapped in brown paper. Curiosity got the better of him and he opened it once inside, before opening the usual bank statements and bills.

He stared wide-eyed at the contents and his jaw dropped. In the tightly packed parcel was a rubber tourniquet like addicts use, and a hypodermic needle. Also there was a note written in a childlike scrawl:

Feel the need?
We'll be seeing you.

Hutch crumpled the note, then reopened it, read it again and then methodically began to rip it into small pieces. He went to the bathroom and threw the pieces of paper down the toilet and flushed it. He looked in the bathroom mirror and tried to compose himself. He hadn't realized he had broken into a cold sweat and his hands were visibly shaking.

Pricks. I can't let them get to me. Can't tell Starsky about this, he'll freak. They want to scare me; well they've succeeded. Just a stupid prank.

He went to the kitchen and poured himself a huge glass of Scotch to steady his nerves. As the amber liquid slid down his gut, he felt the instant warmth it gave him. Almost enveloping him. It felt good. He'd forgotten how good it tasted. He'd cut down on his drinking since being back at work. He continued to drink the evening away until he fell into bed around midnight, still with his shirt on as it was too much effort to take it off.

Forest stood over him leering and then let out an evil laugh. Monk stood beside him with a hypo in one hand and a tourniquet dangling from the other. 'Ready, Hutchinson? We haven't finished with you yet, you know'

Then more evil laughter as the needle hit home.

"Uuhh..."

Hutch woke with a start and realized he'd been having a nightmare. He sat bolt upright and wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead. His head was pounding and his heart was beating double time.

After he went to the bathroom and then the kitchen for a swig of milk from the carton, he loped back to bed. A short while later, sleep claimed him.

It had been three weeks now since the kidnapping and Starsky could still feel tension from Hutch. Don't expect miracles here. The guy's been to hell and back. Give him time. Though they worked well together and Hutch had lost none of his professionalism, there was something missing. Something Starsky just couldn't place what.

Hutch had always been prone to moodiness and there hadn't been any arguments between them but the spark was gone somehow and he damn well didn't know what to do. He rightly assumed that Hutch was still healing and time would ease the tension. Hutch had withdrawn into himself and wouldn't go out to discos or parties with Starsky anymore, always saying he was too tired.

When Starsky would come around unannounced to the cottage some nights after dinner, or after dropping his date home, he wanted to find his partner reading quietly or maybe strumming a few chords on his guitar but more often he was to be found hung over on the couch with the television blaring in the background.

Hutch hadn't let the alcohol go yet, and Starsky knew. Hutch argued it was his one vice and he had it under control. Told Starsky to 'butt out', saying it wasn't effecting his job so what was the harm?

Hutch had been buying the liquor, maybe two or three bottles at a time from O'Malleys liquor store attached to the bar. Starsky knew things could get out of hand really quickly but felt powerless to stop his partner from drowning his sorrows. He was sure Hutch was recovering and then suddenly it seemed overnight he had turned back on to the slippery slope. Starsky just couldn't make sense of it and it scared him.

On Friday night, Starsky cancelled his dinner date with the beautiful Annie and appeared at Hutch's door holding a steaming pizza box. He wanted to see if he could get Hutch to talk about his problems, in particular the alcohol. He figured the pizza offering might help to ease the way.

"Hutch, hey, Hutch. It's me. Would ya let me in here?... Jewish man bearing gifts!"

After a minute or so, the door was opened by Hutch looking worse for wear after a few too many drinks. He stood and smiled at Starsky while running his fingers through his unkempt hair.

"Uh... Hi ya... Ah, hi, Starsk. Mmm smells good. C...C...Come in. Make yourself at home."

He gestured with his hand at the living room, which was looking like a bomb had been dropped in it. It was immediately obvious to Starsky that even though it was only 8:00 o'clock, Hutch had already consumed a fair quantity of liquor. The smell was distinctive and floated from the blond's lips. There was an empty Scotch bottle on the floor.

Starsky entered the cottage and headed to the kitchen to put the pizza down.

"Thought ya might be hungry." He bit his lip, as he wanted to say: 'It might help mop up the alcohol' but he knew he was going to have to tread very carefully and not antagonize.

Starsky managed to clear a space on the couch next to Hutch and they sat in silence and ate their way through the pizza.

Eventually Starsky plucked up the courage:

"Hutch... I'm worried about ya buddy."

"Why, Starsk... I'm okay. I keep tellin' ya."

"But, but you're not. You know you're going on overkill with the booze and... and... well, I'm just really worried okay? You're... you're scaring me Hutch. You say you're in control but I don't think you are buddy... I...I..."

Starsky struggled to get the words to come out.

He knew how explosive Hutch could be and had been on the receiving end many times, especially lately.

"Starsk. I'm okay. I just need it right now. It makes me feel good. I... I... can forget... just for a little bit. Don't you understand?" The blond looked at Starsky trying to justify himself and then as if to add emphasis put his hand over Starsky's.

"Couldn't ya just cut down a bit? At least the hard stuff, Hutch."

"Yeah... yeah... I guess you're right." At this Hutch rose from the couch and began to pace the room.

"I need it, Starsk. It... it... helps me. Helps me feel normal again. Ya know?"

Starsky rose as he spoke and held Hutch's forearm to get him to stop pacing.

"You really don't need it all the time. You are normal for Christ's sake. You got through it. You made it." He paused. "It's okay. Put it behind you. Forest is locked up for a long time. You're safe, partner. I'm here for ya."

Hutch looked at Starsky. Looked into the deep blue eyes he knew he could trust. He desperately wanted to tell Starsky but he couldn't get the words out.

Am I safe? What is Forest trying to do to me now?

"Okay, I'll, I'll try. I'll try and cut back from tomorrow, I promise."

"Atta boy. You can do it. I'm countin' on it. Don't let me down."

Starsky said his goodbyes around midnight and after doing a quick tidy up so the floor was visible again, he headed back to his apartment.

Monday morning came and Starsky screeched the Torino to a halt outside the cottage and then bounded up to the door after honking the horn one too many times. Where the heck was Hutch? What was keeping him?

After getting no answer at the door, he reached for the hidden key and swung the door open calling his partner.

"Hutch... Hutch. Come on, we're gonna be late."

He walked in the door and saw Hutch out for the count; still half clothed lying on top of the bed covers.

"Hutch?... You okay?" he patted Hutch's cheek and eventually got a moan out of him.

"Starsk?... Wha...What time is it?"

"Time we were at work pal. Dobey's gonna eat us for breakfast if you don't shake your ass. Now move it!"

He pulled Hutch's arm to get him out of bed.

"No, Starsk, I can't. I'm sick. I'm gonna throw up."

"Were you drinking solo again last night?"

Hutch rallied.

"Yeah, dammit, I fucking was, Starsk, okay?"

"I don't believe it, Hutch. You damn well promised me. Said you'd at least try. Can't you see what it's doing to you?... What it's doing to us? And what about your job? How much longer do you think it'll be before Dobey notices?" He paused for breath.

"Now, look at you. You're a damn mess. Your no good to anyone in this state." As soon as he said the last words, he regretted it.

"Yeah... maybe you're right. I am no fuckin' good to anyone. I was never good enough for my parents, not good enough for Van, not good enough for Jeannie and now... now... I'm not good enough for you, old pal, old buddy."

The last word was spoken with sheer venom.

He lurched off the bed and staggered to the bathroom slamming the door into its frame so hard Starsky thought it would come off its hinges.

Starsky paced in a small circle outside the door, waiting until he heard the vomiting subside. Man he must have really put them away last night.

He said nothing and waited. A few minutes later after he heard the toilet flush and the faucet turned on and off, Hutch emerged.

"Don't lecture me, Starsk. I'm a grown man. I don't need your sermons right now. Just back off. Tell Dobey I'm sick."

He walked back to the bed and this time proceeded to get under the covers though still half dressed.

"Hutch, I'll lie to Dobey for ya this time and that's it. You need help. Professional help to deal with this. I'm tryin' to help, too, but you won't let me near."

"Just go okay. I don't have a problem, all right? Just leave. My head's hurtin'..."

"All right, Hutch. I'll leave. But I'll be back and we are gonna talk about this some more until there aint nothin' left to talk about. You aren't dealing with this abuse and you need to. If you don't it'll destroy you. It'll destroy us. What happened to 'Me and Thee', partner?"

"Just fucking go, Starsk. Leave me."

Starsky left and slammed the front door on his way out.

Hutch heard the Torino squeal down the normally quiet street. He rolled over and fell into a deep sleep.

Starsky lied for Hutch, and Dobey bought it. Something about a 'flu bug going around seemed to do the trick. Dobey hmmphed and huffed and then partnered Starsky with a new rookie called Williams for the day. Reckoned Starsky could show the 'new kid' some of the tricks of the trade.

"Williams, this is Detective First Class, David Starsky. He'll take you with him today and show you some of the underbelly of Bay City. You can learn a lot today, so be alert, pay attention and learn. Remember to ask questions. That's all. Dismissed."

Starsky wasn't too happy about driving around with a 'kid' fresh out of the academy but as Dobey said it was only for the day. At least Starsky hoped it would be.

As they drove around in the Torino, Starsky couldn't help but have his mind on Hutch and what more he could do to help his friend. He knew Hutch would be like a bear with a sore head and puking his guts out probably a while longer, so he decided he'd stop by as soon as he finished the shift and tackle him then.

The day seemed to drag by with Starsky talking to a few snitches and explaining the process to his wide-eyed new recruit. There were a few witnesses that Starsky had to question following a big case he and Hutch had been working on. Then they had a stroll down hooker alley and hassled a few of the working girls for some information on a big time pimp they had been trying to nail.

Coming toward the end of the shift, they were heading back to base when the radio crackled into life for the last call of the day.

"All units in the vicinity of Bay West, come in please."

Starsky grabbed the mike.

"This is Zebra three. We read ya."

"Reports of gunshots fired at Hill's Jewellers. 2947 Bay West. Repeat 2947 Bay West."

"We're on our way. Request back up. Over and out."

"It's always standard practice to request a black and white if gunshots are reported."

Starsky put the microphone back and fed Williams the instructions.

"Okay, reach down there and put the siren on the roof. When we get there, you cover me and I'll go in. The back up will be on its way already. Stay cool and you'll be fine."

Starsky could see the anxiety in the rookie's eyes and hoped they'd trained him well at the academy. He sure would have felt better with Hutch at his side. Oh brother! Why today? Why now, at the end of his shift? He just wanted to get to Hutch. Concentrate Starsky. Focus. Your mind's got to be on the job now especially with a rookie along for the ride.

They pulled in to the curb outside the shop a few minutes later. The front display windows were smashed and broken glass was strewn all over the sidewalk. It was a mess. Starsky ran low to the ground along the front of the shop, under the windows. As he crunched through the sea of glass he indicated to Williams to watch his back. He could hear shouting coming from inside and the word police said several times, but couldn't make out the rest. A woman was screaming.

He entered the main door and pointed his gun straight ahead. Muzzle toward the gun-wielding criminal behind the counter.

"Police. Freeze."

The villain had a balaclava pulled over his face with only his darting eyes showing. He held a rifle and quickly grabbed the female assistant around the neck.

"No way, pig. Just back off. You drop your gun or I'll shoot the lovely lady here."

Shit. Shit. Hardly much of a choice to make.

Starsky dropped his gun at his feet.

"That's it, pig. Now kick it away."

Starsky kicked the gun and it skittered across the floor, out of reach.

Where the hell was Williams and where was that back up?

The criminal held his grip firmly around the woman's neck and kept the gun pointed at her side. He then started to back up, still facing Starsky.

"We're outta here, pig, and don't follow me or the little lady here gets it."

He then began to feel for the back door handle and turned it. He found it locked and Starsky saw his chance. He dropped low to the ground and slid across the floor to reach his discarded weapon. He heard the first sirens wailing and hoped they were his back up.

The criminal registered what was happening and quickly pulled his gun up to fire at Starsky. The bullet missed its target and embedded itself in the base of one of the display cabinets with a thud. Starsky had just retrieved his own weapon and was grappling to get a proper hold on it. Time was running out. He knew he would be a sitting duck if he didn't get a firm hand on it in the next few seconds. Another bullet flew, though not from his gun and this one found its mark.

The bullet hit Starsky in the gut and felled him immediately. His belly felt like it was on fire. He was amazed to find he still had a hold on his gun. He aimed it as accurately as he could back at his opponent and fired. The bullet hit the suspect in the lower leg and he fell to the floor.

Then everything started to move.

Two uniformed police officers arrived and did a quick take on what was happening. They saw the detective on the ground with a pool of blood forming rapidly around him. One grabbed the offender and handcuffed him, while he thought of his next move. The second officer waded through the debris and coaxed the terrified shop assistant from behind the counter. As he directed her out to the street front he called on Williams to put her in the patrol car and call an ambulance. He then ran back to Starsky.

"Detective Starsky, isn't it?"

"Yeah... Excuse me if I don't get up" Starsky grinned wryly and then let out a low painful moan.

"It's okay, Detective. Ambulance is on its way." He reached across and put a reassuring hand on Starsky's shoulder, cringing as he saw the blood pooling around the wounded detective.

"The perp's in the patrol car and the woman's unhurt, just shaken. You did well. We would have been here sooner but there was a huge snarl up on the freeway exit. Just hang in there. You'll be okay."

He spoke the last words hesitantly as he did not have any idea in fact how bad the detective had been shot, but assumed the fact that he was still conscious had to be a good sign.

Starsky let out another groan as he gripped his stomach with his hand. He could feel himself getting light-headed and felt like he wanted to throw up. He struggled to get the words out.

"Williams. Is... he okay?... Wha...What happened?"

"Yeah, he's fine. He was having an altercation with the lookout man while you were in here shooting his accomplice. Just as well we got here when we did, huh?"

Just then, the paramedics arrived and squatted down beside Starsky with all their boxes of equipment. One put the blood pressure cuff on and started taking all the necessary readings while the other started to insert an IV line.

"Hu...Hu...Hussh" he tried to convey his partner's name to anyone that would listen but couldn't get his mouth into gear enough to be understood.

"What did he say?"

"I think he said hurt or something. Yeah, I bet it hurts. Hold on, man, you're doing great. Giving you something for the pain now. We'll put this on here. Just try and hold this, sir."

Sterile gauze was placed over Starsky's stomach to try and slow the bleeding.

"Uuhhh... hurts."

"Bear with us here, you're doin' great."

That's what they always say.

"It sure don't feel it."

"Those pain meds. Will kick in any second."

"Okay, Barry, let's get him up on this gurney. 1...2...3... and lift."

"Aaahhh." Starsky gritted his teeth.

The paramedics got their charge up into the ambulance once they felt he was stable, and they had taken all the vitals they needed before transporting him.

Williams and the two other officers watched the ambulance scream away with sirens going and then turned back to their duty of securing the crime scene and getting their superiors in. Williams called in to Dobey to tell him Starsky had been shot and taken to Memorial Hospital.

Dobey wasted no time in getting to the hospital to check on Starsky's condition but first he had tried telephoning Hutch at home but got no response. He couldn't wait any longer so decided to call Huggy and tell him what had happened and asked him to get around to Hutch's place. He told Huggy Hutch was off on sick leave for the day.

Starsky was fading in and out of consciousness. He felt like his head was full of cotton balls and his vision was starting to blur. He had an oxygen mask on and a drip going into his right arm. He felt the sticky blood hardening now on his hands and was sure someone had put a blowtorch to his gut. He was aware of the lights getting brighter as he assumed he was being wheeled into the emergency room. He was relieved that Williams was all right, as he had been responsible for him for the day.

He felt anxious though for Hutch and what state he may be in. What if he tried to harm himself again? What if he had done something foolish, in his drunken condition as Starsky felt sure he would be in?

Well, you know I love ya buddy but I damn well wish you were here for me now when I could really use some help. You should have been there for me today, Hutch, at that store. Maybe this wouldn't have happened. I don't know. He really couldn't keep the clouds in his head away any longer as the pain took too greater hold of him. His body responded, and he fell into the dark void that was unconsciousness.

Huggy had left the bar in Diane's capable hands and said he'd be back when he could. After pulling up outside the cottage and banging, then thumping on the door, Hutch opened it. It was clear to Huggy that the 'White Knight' was looking a little tarnished and the stench of alcohol was on his breath.

"Man, what the hell took you so long? Dobey's been tryin' to call ya and tell you Starsky's in the hospital. It don't look good, Hutch. You need to be down there for him. Come on, I'll take ya." He decided not to comment at that moment on Hutch's state.

"What?... wha...wha...what happened?"

"Come on, man. Let's make tracks. Seems like Curly was shot in the gut. Some jewellery store hold up. Last call of the shift apparently. I don't know much more, now let's go."

Huggy pulled Hutch by the arm and out the door.

They sped through the city taking the quickest route Huggy knew to Memorial Hospital.

"Ya got some gum or somethin' Hug? My mouth tastes like shit."

"I don't know what shit tastes like man, but you got enough alcohol on that breath to take employment as a fire breather. Here." Huggy offered a stick of gum.

"Ya know, Hutch, that's your bro in there, lying with a bullet in his guts. Where the fuck were you, huh? Why weren't you there, man?"

He didn't wait for a reply as he was on a roll. His anger was rising as he thought of Starsky and what condition they would find their friend in.

"What's gotten into you lately? Starsky comes in and tells me you're losing it. I know you had it real bad with Forest, but it's over. Over, man. You went through shit I know, but Starsky went through hell too. You could'na done it without him. You kicked it, but now you take on a new poison. You wanna drink yourself to death?"

Hutch let Huggy rant. He knew he deserved what was being thrown at him. He thought he was in control, just a drink or two now and again to ease the pain and shame he still felt. Pain that wouldn't leave him alone. Now here he was, racing to see his partner, his brother, the man he would die for and now he didn't know if he was too late. Why wasn't I there for him dammit? Useless. I could have been there, backed him up. Where the fuck was his back up? Did he have any?

The silence told Huggy his message had hit home and he didn't need to say any more.

They parked in the underground lot, exited the car and rushed toward the elevator signs. Hutch punched the elevator button for the emergency floor thinking about what he would find.

Is he still alive? What am I gonna say to Dobey? Will Starsky ever want me as his partner, as his friend again? How could I have fucked up so badly? Starsky was there for me through it all and now I wasn't there for him.

His thoughts were interrupted as the elevator arrived and they entered in silence. Hutch took the time as they ascended to run his fingers through his hair, trying to give the blond locks some order. Then he was pulling at his clothes to try and make them appear a bit less 'slept in'. He continued to chew on the gum to try and eradicate the traces of alcohol on his breath. His head was banging like crazy. His hands were shaking and clammy and the sweat was forming on his upper lip and forehead.

They exited the elevator and followed the signs to the emergency department. Hutch saw Dobey and spoke first.

"How is he, Cap? What happened?"

Dobey looked at his detective with surprise. He looked ragged, but put it down to the 'flu' that Starsky said Hutch had.

"We're waiting on the doctors to come and fill us in. I've only just got here myself."

He looked to Huggy.

"Thanks, Huggy, for bringing him. I'm sure Dave'll be okay. We just have to wait a while longer."

"What the hell happened, Cap?" Hutch asked.

"I'm still trying to determine that myself, Hutchinson. I'll find out every last detail, though, when I can get hold of Williams."

"Williams. Who's Williams?"

"A rookie that was riding with Dave today 'cause you were sick."

"A... a... rookie?" Hutch spoke in a whisper. I should have been there with him, not some damn rookie.

Hutch dropped his head into his hands.

Meanwhile in the emergency room, a horde of nurses and doctors were hovering over their patient. Monitors were calling and lights were flashing.

"Get some suction in here, I can't see a damn thing for all this blood. Looks like the bullet's still in here. Sure made one hell of a mess. BP's dropping. Let's move it. Call the O.R, tell them he's on his way."

As Dobey and Huggy sat flicking at some dog-eared magazines, Hutch paced. After what seemed an eternity but in fact was a few hours, the E.R doors swung open and a man whom they assumed was the doctor came out.

"Gentlemen. You're here for Detective Starsky?"

"Yes. Are you the attending doctor?" Dobey spoke first.

"Yes, I am. Doctor Richardson." He shook Dobey's hand.

"I'm Captain Dobey, Bay City Police and this is his partner, Detective Hutchinson, and a friend, Mr Huggy Bear."

"Fine. Well uh, Detective Starsky took a bullet to the lower abdomen, as you know. It's made a hell of a mess on its way in and with any such injury there's a chance of infection. We had to take him to surgery to pull the bullet out, clean out the wound and stitch the stomach wall back together. Luckily none of his major organs were hit or damaged. He lost a lot of blood, as you would expect with this type of injury. We had to give him a transfusion and he's got, about forty external stitches holding it all together. He's in recovery now and you can see him later on when he's out of intensive care."

Hutch chose to speak, having listened to the doctor's recitation. He was still trying to comprehend the fact that his friend was still alive.

"Is... is... is he going to be all right, Doctor? Will there be any permanent damage?"

"No, no. He's in intensive care because that's standard procedure after surgery like this. He should be just fine. Sure, he'll be pretty sore for a week or so and he'll have to do some physical therapy to get his abdominal muscles working again, but overall he should make a full recovery. Of course it helps that he appears to be a very fit man."

"Can I... can I see him?"

"I suggest you wait until he is fully recovered from the anaesthetic. He won't be fully conscious yet."

"No. I really need to see him now!"

The doctor looked at Dobey with raised eyebrows.

"Doctor, Detective Hutchinson here is Starsky's partner. If it's not going to inconvenience your nurses too much, I would really like you to allow him a few minutes. I know how shaken up he is about this. We all are. Just a few minutes. Please."

The doctor nodded in agreeance.

"All right, I guess a few minutes won't hurt, but that's all."

"Thank you, Doctor."

"This way, gentlemen."

"Hutch, you go, man. I'll wait for ya here." Huggy spoke.

"Yeah, Hutch. You go ahead and then get Huggy to take you home. Don't worry, he'll be okay" said Dobey as he placed his hand on Hutch's back.

"Okay, Hug, I'll be back in a few minutes. Thanks, Cap." he nodded to Dobey and then followed the doctor to the intensive care unit.

Great way to sober up, Hutchinson.

The doctor showed him into the room and then turned and left to attend to his next stream of casualties.

Hutch entered the room and could just make out his partner on the bed, among all the hardware. Monitors, IV's, and oxygen apparatus seemed to be everywhere but there, lying seemingly peaceful was his curly haired partner. A thin sheet covered him from the groin down.

Hutch could see the lack of colour in his partner's face and the IV's leading into his veins. He had a tube coming out of his nose and a drain leading out of his stomach. The stitches wove an ugly path down from below Starsky's navel to the top of his groin. Once Hutch had taken it all in, he dropped heavily into the hard plastic seat beside the bed. He reached across and lifted Starsky's lifeless hand and caressed it in his own.

"God, Starsk, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. I should've been there for you. I'm so sorry."

He put Starsky's hand back gently on the bed and then put his head in his hands and wept. The silent tears fell and he could taste their saltiness as they passed his lips. He couldn't stop his shoulders as they began to tremble. Will you ever forgive me? I'm so, so sorry. I love you so much and I pushed you away when you were only trying to help.

"Come on now. He'll be fine. You'll see", a nurse's hand appeared on Hutch's shoulder. "Come back tomorrow morning and see him when he's awake."

Hutch looked up and just nodded. He looked again at his partner and then turned and left the room.

Huggy was waiting for him and could see that Hutch had been crying.

"Hey, bro', he ain't that bad is he? Doc said he'll be okay, ya know."

"Uh... yeah, Hug. He'll be okay. Just not sure if I will be." He looked to Huggy and tried to manage a grin.

Huggy swung his arm over Hutch's shoulder and guided him to the elevator.

"Come on, Blondie. I'll take ya home and let's call it a night. Do you want me to pick you up in the morning?"

"Uh... I'll call you. I should be fine but thanks, Hug. Thanks for everything. Coming to get me, oh and the lecture. Guess I deserved it."

Huggy delivered Hutch to the cottage and saw him inside. He didn't stay, as he had to get back to check that Diane hadn't scared away too many customers as he had put it.

It was already around 11:00 p.m and Hutch's head was still thumping. After swallowing two aspirins he stripped and got in the shower.

As he let the hot water massage his weary body he thought of what he had gone through and just how much Starsky had been there for him. Holding him tightly as his body was racked with chills. Feeding him, getting him to drink so much coffee, he thought he could never touch the stuff again.

Starsky had held him when he wanted another fix. Held him, and wouldn't let him go. He had seen him through it.

He looked at his left arm where the needle marks had long since gone but light scarring still remained from where he had scoured at his skin with a knife. He was still so ashamed that he had done such a thing but his partner had never judged him.

He felt the tears fall and he did nothing to stop them. He had been a fool and Starsky had tried to tell him. He vowed to himself then and there that he would have no more alcohol until he could control his drinking.

This had been one hell of a wake up call.

He knew he should tell Starsky about the package and the threatening note that frightened him so much. It scared him. He hadn't heard any more so hopefully that was an end to it. He couldn't let them win. He would not live in fear.

He dried himself, and then climbed into bed and let sleep take him. Tomorrow was another day and a new beginning. It had to be.

He awoke to the sun's rays trying to squeeze through the drapes. For the first time in a long time, he appreciated the beauty of a sun filled morning.

After showering and shaving, he took a long look at himself in the mirror. He had bags under his eyes and his face looked tired and lined.

He went to the kitchen and did something he hadn't done for so long he couldn't remember. The lecithin, milk, banana and some honey went in the blender and he made his breakfast 'special'. He then reached to the back of the kitchen cupboard where he knew had thrown some vitamin bottles a few weeks before. He swallowed down several with his shake. His head was calming and the thumping had abated.

It was 8:00 o'clock and he was desperate to get to the hospital. He quickly tidied up the living room, then called Dobey to say he'd be visiting Starsky and then he'd be in to work. Dobey sounded pleased that he wouldn't be two detectives down, but told Hutch to take as long as he needed and asked him to pass his regards to Starsky.

Hutch grabbed his keys and was out the door. I'll show you I can do it Starsky. Your old partner is on his way back and ready to go.

He was not aware of the eyes that followed him, and watched him get in his car. The insignificant grey Chevy started up and the driver tailed him all the way to the hospital. Hutch was too intent on getting to see Starsky to notice the car had been following him the whole way.

He entered the ICU and saw Starsky's bed was now vacant. In a panic he grabbed the closest nurse.

"Where's Mr Starsky? I saw him here last night."

"Are you a relative, sir?"

"Yes, yes"

" It's okay," she touched his arm.

"Mr Starsky has been moved to a general room. He's doing just fine. Room 214, left and left again"; she pointed in the direction

"Thanks, that's... that's great news."

Hutch strode purposefully down the corridor to room 214 and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Starsky sitting propped up in bed, fully awake.

"Starsk," he spoke softly.

Starsky turned and saw his partner standing in the doorway.

"Hutch, hey am I glad to see you. Come 'ere. Hey, are you okay, buddy?"

Hutch went and sat beside the bed.

"Uh, yeah, yeah I'm fine, Starsk. You're the one who was shot, remember?" He smiled.

"Doc says I'm doing fine. Lost a lot of blood, but they've patched me up pretty good and I feel okay, just a little stiff. Haven't made it outta bed yet."

"That's great, Starsk. Uh... Starsk... I... I... need to tell ya somethin'. I should've been there for ya yesterday. Maybe this wouldn't have happened if I..."

"Hutch, don't. There's no room for 'what ifs'. You can't tell me, if you were with me yesterday that I wouldn't have been shot. Just don't go there, Hutch. It's not worth beating yourself up about."

"No, no let me finish. I want to say, I want to say... sorry for not being there and sorry for the whole way I've been acting lately. I've been stupid, Starsk and it took you being shot, for me to wake up and realize what an idiot I've been. You were there for me and..."

"Stop it, Hutch. I did what you would've done for me under the same circumstances. I just couldn't bear to see you drink yourself into oblivion, and I was powerless to stop you. I don't want to see you hurting anymore." He looked directly into Hutch's eyes.

"How are you doing? Really?"

"I quit the drink, Starsky. As soon as I got home from seeing you last night. I realized you were more important to me than my damn Scotch. I'm really gonna do it, Starsk. No more lies. You're too important to me. I just feel so messed up and the drink was a crutch for me I guess. I dunno, it's hard to explain. Just trust me."

"Always do, Hutch. You're my pal. You know you're more important to me than even Nicky is don't ya? You don't have to explain yourself to anyone okay? I just hate to see ya hurtin', Hutch. Promise me you won't hurt yourself anymore, and that's good enough for me."

Hutch knew Starsky was referring to both abusing the alcohol and cutting himself.

"I promise, Starsk."

"That's great news. You'll do just fine. Now help me outta here. I need to use the john."

Hutch laughed and rose to help Starsky out of the bed. With a lot of panting and puffing eventually he was up and moving, albeit slowly, to the bathroom.

Hutch waited outside the door. Thanks, Starsk. I need you in my life all right but I guess I didn't know how much.

A while later when a physical therapist called for Starsky, Hutch said his goodbyes and headed to his car.

After starting the engine, he was about to pull out when he saw a small envelope on the passenger seat. He was sure it hadn't been there before and he didn't recognize it as his. He turned the engine off and opened it. There was a small packet inside, some type of white powder. Hutch sighed aloud as he put his fingertip in the powder and tasted it. Yep, it was cocaine. Forest's friends weren't ready to let him go just yet. He grabbed the packet and envelope and walked to the nearest trashcan, depositing both in, shoving them angrily. He could feel his heart pounding as if it would burst forth from his chest. He went up to his car and thumped the hood with his fist.

As he drove to police headquarters he mulled over and over in his mind what he should do? He couldn't let Forest get to him like this. What did Forest want from him? Should he tell Dobey? Starsky? This was driving him insane but maybe that was the idea. He laughed aloud at his own sick joke.

Starsky was released from Memorial Hospital after five days. His doctor thought he had made a remarkable recovery and as long as his patient continued with the physical therapy sessions for another few weeks, he was happy to let him go home. Starsky was happy, too, as he couldn't stand hospitals and was desperate to get home.

Hutch was there to drive him home and help him settle into his own place again. With the worry of Forest harassing him, and not knowing what to expect from him next he was quite relieved when Starsky had asked him to stay over. It also meant any temptation of a little alcohol was removed.

Hutch now relished in being able to fuss over Starsky and care for him as he had been cared for. It felt good to return the favour, though Hutch hated seeing his partner hurting. He had made Starsky relive his ordeal at the jewellery store, as he wanted to know all the details hoping it would make his own guilt at not being there lessen.

Why wasn't the rookie there for his partner? Couldn't he have done more? Why did the back up take so long? Of course, there was a logical answer for every question but Hutch needed to hear it, and hear it from Starsky.

While Starsky was on sick leave, Hutch felt he had been given enough time off from Dobey and didn't want to be seen as taking advantage. He really needed to be back at work. He appreciated how much Dobey had done for them both in the recent weeks, and he really couldn't be off work any longer. Anyway, Starsky had insisted that Hutch should return to work. It was only maybe another week before Starsky would be back alongside him.

Hutch's working week was quiet, for which he was grateful. He felt he didn't have his mind a hundred percent on the job. He was still worried about Starsky and wondering if Forest had yet more fun and games in store for him. A few times, late at night he had received calls with no one seemingly on the other end. He put that down to Forest, too. The extra stress this had caused had meant he wasn't sleeping as well as he had been. He would toss and turn and so was intentionally going to bed late, hoping he would just slip quietly and quickly into oblivion.

Later in the week, Hutch had offered to cook dinner at the cottage for Starsky, to celebrate his last physical therapy session. The therapist had shown Starsky what exercises to practice at home and knew with Starsky being already fit that his patient would recover quickly and fully. Starsky was due back to work in a few days. Hutch couldn't wait to be riding with him again, even if it was in the candy apple red eyesore that Starsky lavished more love on than any woman he'd ever dated.

"Man, Hutch, that sure smells good. When do we eat?"

"Be patient, Starsk. It's nearly done. You can't rush 'Cordon Bleu' you know."

"What's Gordon Blue? Don't think I've had that before. Is it a type of fish?"

"It's a style of cookery, idiot!" Hutch swatted Starsky across the head with his dishtowel.

They sat on the couch where they had been half watching a baseball game.

"You know, Starsk, it's great that things are on an even keel now don't you think?"

"That it is. I'll drink to that... oops... you know what I mean. Feels good. It's great to have the 'old' Hutch back."

"A bit less of the old huh?"

Hutch got up and went to close the living room drapes. The sun had long since set and the cold of the evening approached. As he drew them he didn't see the eyes watching him and his partner from the darkness.

"Damn, he's got company. I think it's that partner of his. The one that shot Monk."

"Hey, be cool, Vince. Ben could be pleased if we 'killed two pigs with one stone'." He laughed quietly then nodded his head at Hutch's neighbour's car driving off.

"Looks like the neighbours are out so we don't have to worry about being disturbed. Okay, let's get this show on the road."

They rose from behind the bushes they had been hiding behind and went to within a few feet of the cottage door. Coney threw a small pebble at the door and then another while his partner in crime stood hidden to the side. Waiting like a coiled spring, he held a gun at his side with his finger on the trigger.

Coney saw the tall blond he recognized as Hutchinson come and open the door. Sure has cleaned up a lot from when we had him, looks almost respectable now.

"Hutch, what is it? Kids? I'm gettin'... Hutch!"

Starsky had gotten up slowly and painfully from the couch. He had sat too long and he held his hand against his stomach hoping it would ease the pain. He took two steps toward the open door and then saw two men pushing Hutch backward into the room. One of them held a gun, pointed at Hutch's chest.

"Detective Starsky, I presume?"

"Who the fuck are you? Whadda ya want?"

"Tut tut now. Bad language, Detective. We're friends of Mr. Forest. Didn't your friend here tell you about me? I'm the one you didn't get. Mr Forest asked us to look your blond friend up. Seems he aint too happy being banged up. Understandable don't ya think? Misses his girlfriend too, aah... Jeannie, wasn't it, Hutchinson?"

He kicked the door shut behind him.

Starsky looked at Hutch and tried to think quickly how they might disarm the two hoods. Their own guns were put away, safely hanging in their holsters in the closet.

Coney continued. "Mr Forest thought we should teach Blondie here a lesson. We gave him a few presents already. Said we'd be looking him up."

Starsky shot a questioning look at Hutch. What the hell is he talking about?

Hutch stood, rooted to the spot with the other thug's gun poking into his side.

"Only we didn't plan on him havin' company. But that's okay. We're gonna have to take care of you first, as Mr. Forest gave us special instructions for your blond friend, here."

Coney raised his gun a few feet from Starsky's head and pulled the hammer back.

Starsky stopped breathing.

"Stop! Don't," Hutch cried out.

"It's me Forest wants, not him. Let him go. He won't say anything."

Coney paused in amusement, looking at Hutch plead.

Starsky breathed again, the sweat pouring off his body. He still held his hand firm against his stomach. Okay. How do I get us outta this one? Think, dammit.

Hutch spoke again, stammering: "T...Take me. Leave him here. You don't want to be nailed for killing two cops do you?"

Starsky looked incredulously at his partner. You son-of-a-bitch, Hutch. We're in this together. I'm just trying to think of a plan, only it aint coming together right now.

"Yeah... maybe you're right, I guess we got time to have a little fun here first. Whadda ya reckon, Vince?"

"Yeah, could be Mr. Forest'll give us a bonus."

Coney threw some rope at Hutch.

"Go and tie your partner up on one of those chairs." He pointed.

Hutch looked aghast and hesitated for just a moment.

Suddenly Coney took the pistol and struck Starsky hard across his face.

"I said do it or I'll give him the same again!"

Starsky hadn't seen the blow coming and it knocked him so hard, he fell to his knees crying out in pain.

"Okay, okay. I'm doin' it. Just leave him alone."

Hutch took an urgent step toward his partner, the gun still being held on him by Vince.

"Starsky. You okay?"

Hutch hauled him to his feet, and got him to sit in the hard backed dining chair. Blood was dripping rapidly down Starsky's face from a huge gash in his cheek, where the gunmetal had ripped his skin. He was dazed and appeared concussed.

"Move it, Hutchinson. We ain't got all day. We gotta deal with you next." He smiled and laughed quietly, looking at him.

Hutch had no idea what they had in mind. They were obviously going to take their time and make him sweat. He grappled with the rope and pulled Starsky's hands gently behind his back and started to secure them.

"Sorry, Starsk. Hang on, buddy," he whispered.

"'S'okay." He was trying to control the gnawing pain he felt in his gut, and his face was hurting something awful. It stung like hell; he could feel his cheek throbbing and the blood, wet on his face and neck. He didn't care about his own survival, but was terrified more, thinking of what these goons had in mind for Hutch.

His thoughts were interrupted as the telephone started to ring.

Starsky looked at Hutch and Hutch looked at Coney. No one moved. The ringing continued.

"Leave it," Coney spat out.

Despite his pain, Starsky rallied and spoke quickly. Worth a try. Long shot but it may work.

"Ya don't let him answer it, our boss'll be 'round here lookin' for us."

"Whadda ya mean?" Vince spoke this time; sounding panicked, which had been Starsky's aim.

"We're due to be working a stake out in a few hours. Our Cap'n's to tell us where to meet."

Coney, who seemed to be the one in charge, barked at Hutch.

"Okay, Blondie. Answer it. No funny business or Curly here gets both sides of his face lookin' the same. Got it?"

"Okay, okay," Hutch answered trying to think on his feet.

Hutch snatched at the receiver before his possible lifeline ran out, hoping it would be someone he knew on the other end and not a wrong number.

"Hello."

He breathed a quiet sigh of relief when he recognized the caller as Huggy.

"Hey, bro'. What's happenin'?"

"Uh, hi, Cap'n Dobey."

"Hutch, you outta your mind or just been drinking again? Its Huggy here."

"Uh, no. Definitely not... Yeah, uh-huh. Where do you want us to meet you for the bust?"

"Hutch, is somethin' wrong, my man?"

"That's right."

"Are you in trouble? Is there someone there, Hutch?"

"Sure is. Okay, Cap, we'll be there." And with that he hung up the receiver, hoping Huggy had caught on to what was happening. He looked into Starsky's eyes and hoped an unspoken message that help was on the way would get through to his partner.

"Right, Vince, we better get on with the job if these guys are expected somewhere soon. No more time for niceties now. Hutchinson, get over and sit on that chair, hands behind your back. We got orders to follow."

Hutch did as he was told, as he wasn't about to antagonize two gun-toting thugs confined in a small area. He wondered how quickly Huggy would be able to raise the alarm.

Vince grabbed a short length of rope from the satchel they had brought with them and started tying Hutch's arms behind his back as Starsky's were.

"Wadda ya want with us Coney? Why can't ya just leave us alone?" Hutch began to perspire as he realized the seriousness of his predicament now, with both himself and Starsky trussed up.

"Let's just say Mr. Forest doesn't like to lose. He gave us special instructions to deal with you, so you won't be preyin' on his mind anymore." He started rummaging in the bag. Vince stood by, gun still in his hand watching for any movement from either captive.

Coney pulled out a rubber tourniquet, like Hutch had received in the mail, and a hypodermic with a clear liquid in it. Hutch visibly reeled at the horror of where he could see this was leading.

"You may recall, Hutchinson, that your partner here killed Monk who had been with Mr. Forest for a very long time. Then you embarrass him in front of his girl. Put him away for drug trafficking. Now, none of that's gonna sit too well with a man of his social standing is it?" He smirked at Hutch and then walked over toward the chair and pulled roughly at his sleeve, yanking it up beyond his elbow.

Hutch began to fight for his life and tried to wrench his arm from the rope. Not again. I can't do it again.

Coney nodded at Vince, who went to stand behind Hutch and then proceeded to hold him in a chokehold. Hutch gagged and spluttered as he felt his windpipe being squeezed.

Starsky looked on in horror, realizing what they were about to do. He hadn't imagined this is what they had in mind. He thought maybe they would rough them up, smash up the place and then leave. Fuck.

"Leave him the fuck alone, Coney. You touch him again with that stuff and I will personally see to it, that you will be put away for life." Starsky tried desperately to find some slack in the ropes that bound him.

"Ha, big words from a little man, Starsky. Look and learn."

With that Coney proceeded to tie the tourniquet around Hutch's bicep as he had helped do the first time, over a month ago. Piece 'o cake, he thought.

Hutch couldn't even open his mouth to protest. Vince had him around the throat in a tight grip. He was powerless. He felt the familiar tourniquet tighten around his arm. He couldn't make eye contact with Starsky as his head was held in a vice grip against his attacker's abdomen. He tried to use his legs to kick out but the power being exerted on him meant he remained rooted to the spot. He heard Starsky's voice.

"Don't you fuckin' dare! Stop!" he cried, the panic rising in his voice. Starsky strained to see Hutch's face but Vince's arm was in the way. He cringed when he saw the tourniquet applied.

"Hurry up, man, he's wriggling like an eel," Vince complained to Coney.

"It's cool. Nearly done." He flicked at Hutch's inner arm, seeking a chunky vein.

Hutch's mind raced. So is this how it all ends? Maybe it's just heroin again. Yeah, I can deal with that. What if it's not? Starsky, where are you? I need you. I can't do this again, buddy.

Now Coney took the filled hypodermic and stabbed the sharp needle home into the vein.

"There ya go, pal... Enjoy... Lights out, now." He patted Hutch hard on his cheek.

Guttural sounds came from Hutch. Horrible, haunting sounds. Starsky couldn't bear it. He screamed.

"Aaaahhhh. You fucking bastards!"

He couldn't believe this was happening. Not again. The macabre scene played out in front of him. What was in the fucking needle? Was it an overdose? Was he going to have to watch his partner die in front of him?

"Easy. Easy." Vince cooed as Hutch continued to protest with his limbs as much as he could.

Then the fight started to leave his body. He felt warmth running through his arm and then an instant calm. His body relaxed and his head was floating. Vince could feel his captive start to physically let go. He looked down to see Hutch's eyes just to be sure. They were half closed, now. His eyelids flickered trying to stay open, but losing the battle. Vince slowly released his hold. When he met with no resistance he pulled his arm totally free from the detective's neck. Hutch's head just fell down to his chest, his eyes unseeing as the eyelids finally dropped shut.

Starsky could feel tears pooling in his eyes, ready to fall.

"What the fuck was in the hypo? What did you give him?" He continued to pull and tear at the ropes binding his hands.

And then in desperation, demanded, "Tell me, you bastard!"

Coney ignored him and quickly set about removing the tourniquet and placing it away in his bag with the hypodermic.

"Let's just say, you've got a short time to say your goodbyes to your friend here. I didn't give him anything he wasn't used to. Just a larger quantity of it." He laughed at Starsky and then nodded to Vince.

"Come on, we're outta here. Let's go. Oh, nearly forgot. Now that you've enjoyed the show, Detective Starsky, we don't want you to recount this to anyone. That would be kind of stupid don't you think?" he collected his gun from the waistband of his jeans.

This is getting down to the wire. Shit. Hang in there Hutch. Starsky kicked with his feet in desperation to get free and get to Hutch.

Sirens and then car doors slamming outside were suddenly heard and distracted Coney for the few seconds Starsky needed. His hands were burning from the ropes but his struggling had paid off. At last his hands were free and he leapt from the chair and lunged at Coney, tackling him to the floor. The gun fell from Coney's grip and slid across the floor.

"Vince! Get 'im off me," Coney called out, looking desperately around for his back up, only he had shot out the door as soon as he heard the sirens.

Starsky and Coney continued to roll around the floor and then finally Starsky managed to get a punch in. He was starting to feel weak and was desperate to get to Hutch. Where are those damn cops? I haven't got time to be rolling around the damn floor.

As if hearing his silent request, a patrol officer raced through the door and quickly grabbed at Coney, once he recognized Starsky. The officer knew he was going to a break in of some sort at the home of Detective Hutchinson but hadn't known Starsky would be there. The officer pulled Coney from the detective. He wasted no time in putting handcuffs on Coney, and hauling him to his feet.

"Are you all right, Detective?" The cop panted.

Great question under the circumstances. "No, but I'll live. Did you get the other guy outside, and where are the damn paramedics?"

"Yeah, the other guy was grabbed outside trying to make a run for it. Ambulance has been called, should be right behind us. I'll put this guy in the car. You better attend to, Detective Hutchinson." He nodded at Hutch.

Shit. You gotta be all right, buddy. Starsky pulled himself up and stumbled to Hutch, who was still tied to the chair, his head still resting on his chest and his eyes closed. What the hell was in that hypo? Heroin? But how much?

He heard a new siren and then doors slamming. Two paramedics rushed into the cottage.

"Over here. Hurry!" Starsky yelled.

"Hutch, Hutch. You gotta hear me." He patted his cheek trying to get a response. Nothing.

"Come on, buddy. Listen to me. You'll be okay. Just hang on. The paramedics are here."

Starsky went behind Hutch and began loosening the ropes around his wrists. As soon as he was free and there was nothing left to hold him upright, he began to fall. The paramedics stopped him from falling and lowered him gently to the floor. As they began taking his vitals, they looked to Starsky for some clues.

"What happened here, sir? Has your friend taken or been given something? He seems to be totally out of it."

The medic then did a double take on Starsky when he saw the condition of his face with the dried blood and bruises.

"Are you okay, sir? Here, maybe you should sit down a minute."

Starsky ran his fingers through his hair.

"I'm... I'm okay. Just, please attend to my partner here. You gotta help him. He didn't damn well take anything but that prick out there fucking gave him something in a hypo. Some drug cocktail. I... I... dunno what was in it. I... think it was heroin."

One medic radioed through to base, to give the information. Starsky heard the brief interaction between the medic and doctor whilst keeping his panicked eyes firmly on his friend. The medic radioed out and turned to Starsky.

"Right, we'll give him some Narcan to reverse the effect of the heroin or whatever other opiate it could be. It will block the drug, stop it from spreading any further." The medic tried to offer Starsky some hope but didn't know how successfully he was going to be able to treat the patient.

Starsky watched helplessly as they put an IV in Hutch's arm and electrodes on his chest to monitor his heart.

The medic with the stethoscope pulled it away from Hutch's chest.

"He's going into respiratory arrest. Get a tube down his airway, stat."

Starsky turned his eyes away at the intrusion of his partner's body as they tilted Hutch's head and shoved a huge metal gadget down his throat. Starsky stood in silent shock. Come on Hutch. Come on.

"Quick, we're losing him. BP's down. Heart rate's slowing."

"No, no... Hutch, ya gotta hang on. Please, babe."

He turned as he heard his name being called. It was Huggy.

"Hey, Hug, am I glad to see you, buddy."

The medics continued their work at a frantic pace. Totally focussed.

Huggy embraced Starsky and looked worriedly at Hutch lying on the floor, oblivious to all the activity going on around him.

"What the hell happened here, man? I called here and when Blondie there started talking to me like he had a screw loose, I guessed you dudes were feelin' the heat, so I called the cops. Got here as soon as I could, Starsk."

"So it was you. Thanks, Hug. Forest's goons broke in here wanting to follow through with Hutch and I was an unexpected surprise for them."

"How's he doin'?" Huggy nodded toward Hutch.

"I dunno, Hug. They gave him a hypo of somethin', probably a heroin OD and he's just crashed. Fuck them, Hug. He was just getting better, ya know?"

"I hear ya. Hutch is strong; he'll pull through, man. He..."

Their conversation was cut short.

"We're losing him. He's flat lining. Gonna have to shock 'im. Stand clear."

"No, No. Hutch, come on..."

Huggy pulled Starsky a few feet away to give the medics more room to work. Starsky could take no more. His knees gave way and he slid ungraciously to the floor.

"Starsk. Starsk. You okay? Here let me help ya."

Though he was still coherent, he physically could take no more. He put his face in his hands and sobbed.

Meanwhile the medics worked frantically.

"No conversion. Shock him again."

On the second try:

"No output. Again. Clear."

Starsky and Huggy listened as they shocked him three times. On the last attempt they got his heart beating again. Too close, Hutch. Too damn close. Don't leave me, babe. You can't.

Starsky took courage and peeked out from behind his hands to see that indeed they had him back.

"He's levelling out now. Should be stable to move. Let's get him in the wagon and outta here."

Starsky and Huggy watched silently as the medics lifted Hutch onto a gurney and then grabbed all their equipment and wheeled him out quickly to the waiting ambulance.

"Come on, Starsky. You okay to ride with me? No throwin' up allowed on my vinyl, though - dig?" The black man offered Starsky his lean hand and pulled him upright again.

Starsky released a snigger.

"Yeah, I dig, Hug. Let's go, and thanks."

As they left the cottage they saw the officers about to take their catch of the day downtown for booking. Starsky was too exhausted to face them and just walked past, patting one of the officer's shoulders on the way to show his appreciation.

"Good work. Thanks for everything in there. I'll see Cap'n Dobey hears."

On their way to Memorial Hospital, the shock began to set in and Starsky began to panic.

"Will he be all right, Hug? I dunno what was in that hypo. What if he's gonna be brain damaged or somethin'? What if..."

"Starsk, just chill. You'll see. Hutch'll be just fine. Let's just take one step at a time, man."

They eventually made it into the emergency department where only a week ago Hutch had sat anxious for news on his partner. Now the tables had turned. God, Starsky hated hospitals. Huggy steered his friend to a seat and then went and got him a sweet coffee from the machine.

"Here, drink this."

Starsky drank it and grimaced at its sweetness. His face was starting to really hurt and he could feel his cheek starting to swell.

"Ya know, ya look like a real mess. I think you should get one of these pretty nurses to look at your face, Starsky. You'll be scarin' away the patients."

"I'm okay. It's Hutch I'm worried about."

"Well, no kiddin'."

A few moments of silence passed and then a nurse entered the waiting area.

"Are you the ones here for Mr Hutchinson?"

"Yeah. How is he?"

"Well, the doctor's with him now and he's going through a series of tests to determine what may have been given to him. We'll know more in an hour or two, but he's holding his own right now."

"Thank God, Huggy, that's great news. You mean he'll be okay?"

"Well, it seems like the medics got there just in time and we've since been able to get him breathing on his own and stabilized him. Now, how about you let me look at that face of yours while you're waiting? Looks rather nasty and unless you've got a better offer..."

"Go on, Starsky. Let the pretty lady here administer to your needs, brother."

"Yeah, okay, it is hurtin' some I guess."

"This way, Mr?"

"Starsky. Dave Starsky."

The nurse led him away to a treatment room and Huggy continued to wait.

After about half an hour, the nurse brought Starsky back into the waiting area.

"He'll do just fine. A couple of small stitches and I've cleaned the whole area. A black eye no doubt yet to come. Now, I'll go and check on your friend for you."

"Uh, thanks. Thanks, Caroline." Starsky said as he sank down into the seat alongside Huggy.

"Did ya get her phone number, Starsky?"

"Get outta here!"

Huggy was glad he had managed to get a smile out of his friend.

"Huggy, ya know back at the cottage when those guys broke in, they said something about they'd given Hutch a few presents. Why didn't he tell me? I coulda maybe done somethin'. Stopped them before they came after him."

"I don't know, but what I do know is it ain't gonna do ya any good now askin' why. He probably felt bad and you were laid up in here remember. He woulda figured ya had enough to worry about."

"I guess so, but when he's up and outta here, I'll tan his backside for it."

In a short while, Caroline returned with a doctor.

"Mr. Starsky, this is Doctor Barton who has been treating your friend. I'll let him tell you what's been happening."

Starsky rose from the chair eager to hear news of Hutch.

"Please, sit down, Mr. Starsky. Really. You look like you could do with a rest." He smiled.

Starsky sat again and he and Huggy waited to hear what the doctor had to say.

"Mr. Hutchinson is stable right now. He's semi-conscious and understandably very groggy. As you may recall the paramedics administered Narcan at the scene, which basically is a drug we use to reverse the effects of the heroin."

Starsky interrupted.

"Was that what he was given for sure?"

"Yes, the tests now show that it was a heroin overdose intended to kill, due to the quantity administered."

Starsky looked skyward. Fucking Forest. I'll kill him.

"Will he be okay?" Huggy asked.

"We would expect him to make a full recovery but it will take up to a week."

"That's a hell of a long time for one shot of heroin isn't it, even if it was a large one?" Starsky asked thinking of his partner's mental health if he had to be in here for two weeks.

"Yes, but of course he went into cardiac arrest. The Narcan and resuscitation drugs will take time to get out of his system. The kidneys need to excrete all traces of the drugs including the heroin. Also, because of having to shock his heart more than once we have to be constantly monitoring it now for signs of any damage. He'll be monitored closely for several days and then require complete bed rest. That's about all I can tell you for now, gentlemen."

"Can we see him now?"

"I don't see why not, but only for a few minutes. He is still very groggy as I said and needs complete rest to recover. Room 569."

"Thanks, Doc. Huggy, you comin'?"

"Yeah. I think you need someone to be there anyway, in case ya fall over."

Starsky smiled and headed toward the elevators.

As they entered room 569, they could see Hutch hooked up to various monitors and an IV running into his arm. He looked peaceful and free from any pain.

Starsky cautiously approached the bed and took Hutch's hand and began to rub his fingers softly over it.

"Hutch. Can ya hear me? Will you open your eyes for just a minute so I know you're really okay?"

Hutch turned his head slightly and worked hard to lift his heavy eyelids.

"Starsk. That you?"

"Yep, it's me all right and Huggy's right here, too. We've been worried about ya, but the doc says you're doing fine. Do you remember what happened?"

Hutch had brought Starsky's face into focus now and looked shocked at the swelling and bruises on his friend's cheek.

"What happened to you? Are you okay?"

Starsky laughed quietly.

"Yeah, I'm just peachy. I'll be okay, really. Just have to avoid any attractive women for a while 'cause I might scare them off looking like this don't ya think?"

"You'd be right there, bro'." Huggy chipped in.

"You need to rest, Hutch, take it easy in here and I'll look after Curly for ya. Don't worry about him."

"Gee, thanks, Hug. Hey, Hutch, we have to go now. Doc won't let us stay, but just rest and I'll be back in the morning. Okay?"

When he got no response, he looked to see Hutch's eyes were closed again and realized he must have fallen back to sleep. Starsky let go of his hand and placed it carefully back under the sheet. I bet he feels like crap. All those drugs in his system.

The two friends left the room and walked slowly toward the exit.

"I guess I better check in with Dobey and fill him in. See how he's doing with charging those punks."

"I guess you'd better get home, Starsky, and climb into your bed, alone and recover a bit yourself, dude."

"Yeah, I guess Dobey'll keep."

The next morning Starsky struggled stiffly out of bed at seven o'clock. He had slept soundly and put it down to sheer exhaustion. When he caught sight of his face in the mirror he visibly winced at the varying shades of grey and red across his cheek and around his eye. Thankfully, his eye hadn't swollen shut, but was very bruised and sore.

He drove to the hospital around nine and headed straight for the nurses' station to get the update on Hutch before he saw him.

He was thrilled to be told that Hutch was doing very well and his heart didn't appear to have suffered any permanent damage. He was to have bed rest and monitoring until the end of the week, to ensure all traces of the drugs were absent from his system.

Starsky had a spring in his step as he entered Hutch's room. He was pleased to find him awake and propped up against pillows with a breakfast tray across his lap.

"Hey, partner, how they treatin' ya in here?'

"Starsk. Hey, great to see you even if your face does look like a mosaic. That's gotta hurt!"

"Quit worrying about me. What about you? Has the doc been around yet?"

"Yeah. Says I gotta be in this dump for the rest of the week."

"It won't be too bad. You've gone through a hell of a lot remember? Your heart stopped and I would call that pretty serious. Can't get more serious, in fact."

"He told me about that this morning. Shit, Starsky, I couldn't believe it. I..."

He intentionally dropped his head to take his face away from Starsky's penetrating eyes.

"Hutch?"

The blond looked up, tears pooling and moistening his bright blue eyes.

"Hey. It's okay, Hutch. Please don't cry. You made it, that's all that matters."

He pulled closer to the bed and picked up Hutch's hand and gripped it tightly.

"The doctor says you're gonna make a full recovery. Your heart's just fine. You're lucky to be here and I'm lucky to have ya. We'll get through it together, Hutch. No more secrets? Will ya let me help ya this time, though, buddy?"

Hutch looked up now, letting a tear escape.

"Sure, Starsk, if you can put up with me."

"Blintz, cut it out. Me and thee always, partner."

And all was well with the world.

The End