Disclaimer: This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of Starsky and Hutch.

Warning: "Shadows of the Past" contains some foul language that might be offensive to some readers. As it is never my intention to offend anyone, please consider yourself warned.

Previously on "Shadows of the Past"

"Aw c'mon, Starsk," Hutch pressed, "Who came over?"

Starsky turned the wheel, choosing to ignore his partner for the moment as he merged into traffic fronting Venice Place. The blond detective reached over to impatiently flick at the brunet's ear. "Well?" Hutch asked.

The dark haired cop turned to glance at his partner and then grinned. "It's a long story, Blintz, so shut your mouth and open your ears and I'll tell ya . . ."

~ Chapter Three~

The bar and grill was dark and crowded as green eyes, flecked with gold, shifted from patron to patron, warily watching as burly, tattooed men and boisterous women shuffled past his table. "Hog's Heaven" wasn't an establishment that most civilized people would care to frequent, but perhaps that was the reason the handsome man from Brooklyn chose it in the first place; plus it was a convenient meeting place to hook up with Davey since he'd been in the vicinity taking care of business matters for most of the day. It would be interesting to see his friend's reaction to the joint in any case.

Joey glanced at his wristwatch noting the time. Davey was late. Again. That certainly wasn't a surprise. As a boy, his curly haired friend had often kept him waiting a few minutes longer than expected with some excuse or another. Mostly his tardiness revolved around ditching Nicky, his tag-along little brother, whom his mother expected Davey to watch all the time.

Joey Campanella snorted at the memory of a snot-nosed Nicky whining as Starsky jumped on his bike, leaving his brother crying out on their front porch. The ruggedly handsome man sighed as he ran the blunt point of his finger along the side of the glass containing his beer, catching the tiny rivulets of beading water upon his index finger, his mind drifting back to the day he'd frantically searched for his missing friend . . .

His heart pounded against his chest as he raced along the back alley way, searching out their familiar haunts, fear causing him to stumble in his haste as he frantically ran to the next place in mind . . . the park. When they were just a few years younger, he and Davey would spend hours at the park as he coached his curly haired friend and helped him to learn the game of baseball, gifting Davey with the old and preciously worn glove his own father had given him for Christmas many years back.

Joey could feel the sweat running down his back, his inner ear hanging on every gasp that burst from his burning lungs as he sped towards their old hangout, hoping Davey was okay. He had been on his way to meet the kid just before lunch by the crates behind the much-frequented five and dime store, which boasted of the cheapest, and most delectable candy money could buy.

Unfortunately, he had been waylaid from his intended destination by a gang of punks led by Franco Rosetta, also known as "The Razor" by his idiot followers. Joey smirked as he ran; green eyes hard as he thought about Franco's girlfriend, Juanita, whom he'd just left that morning. There was no doubt that Juanita was talented; using her God given gifts to keep her men satisfied and fulfilled. She was good in bed and taught Joey a few tricks he'd have to remember in the future. Maybe when Davey got older, he could pass his newfound knowledge on carnal delights on to the younger boy . . .

Davey . . .

Dark, blue sapphire eyes wide with fear suddenly passed before his eyes and Joey pushed the thought of Juanita and Franco far from his mind as thoughts of finding the kid took precedence. He had waited for a while at the crates, hoping little Davey would be on time for once, but after a while it became apparent that David Starsky wasn't showing. Jumping off the stacked wooden crates, Joey fished a dime from his pocket and used the store's pay phone to call Davey's home. Talking to his ma made a chill race down his spine and he hung up the phone to begin his frantic search.

"Davey left over a half an hour ago to meet you, Joey. Is everything okay? Should I be worried?"

'Hell yeah, you should be worried', Joey thought irritably as he replayed snatches of his phone conversation with Davey's mom in his mind. You should be damn worried like I am about your missing son. But instead, he had reassured Rachel Starsky that her son was fine and that they just must've got their messages crossed, that he would go out right now and look for Davey, making sure to give the kid a piece of his mind for worryin' his mama.

The park loomed into view; green grass and trees surrounded by chain link fences housing a few, brightly colored playground equipment that was bolted down to the ground to dissuade would-be thieves. Panting as he made his way inside the park's fence, feeling the heat from the sun directly overhead, Joey stopped to catch his breath, palms pressed against knees as he bent over to suck in more oxygen, wide green eyes darting around the near empty park, shifting over to the boys playing catch in the midday sun to finally fall upon a crumpled heap of something just outside the back fence. Even from this distance, Joey could recognize the familiar denim jacket Davey constantly wore.

'No, no, no,' Joey thought as his legs automatically spurned into action, dark green eyes never leaving his intended target that so far, hadn't moved an iota. Pumping his arms as he raced across the field, Joey sent up a silent prayer to a God he had secretly given up on since his mother died. 'Please God, please make him okay, please don't take Davey from me too. Please God . . . please . . ."

Stopping just a few inches from his friend who lay face down in the dirt, Joey could feel tears streaming down his face. He wasn't moving. Oh God, Davey wasn't moving . . .

"D-Davey?" Joey stammered, angrily scrubbing at his red-rimmed eyes.

Joey Campanella rarely ever cried and the green-eyed boy knew that it would scare Davey something awful if he saw tears streaming down his best friend's face.

"Davey? You okay?"

A barely audible groan made Joey move quickly to the crumpled form of the beaten boy, sliding into a crouch beside him. Hands hovered helplessly over the back of David Starsky, his denim jacket torn and frayed. Struggling to keep his tears in check, Joey gently tried to turn his friend over so he could see the damage first hand, nearly stopping as Davey cried out in pain.

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay, kid, it's just me, Joey," the older boy whispered soothingly, trying unsuccessfully to comfort his best friend who was bleeding from his mouth and nose. Bruises were already starting to form on Davey's face; and his dark, long lashes that pressed against sweaty, dusty cheeks, hid the brilliant blue that Joey so desperately needed to see.

"Hey, kiddo," Joey said in a quivering whisper, "O-open your eyes, Davey. Tell me where it hurts . . ."

"J-Joey?" David Starsky murmured, lashes rolling gently as the kid came into consciousness bringing with it all the pain and aches in his broken and battered body, which the boy had momentarily escaped from when he gave in to the encompassing darkness. The malicious gang had apparently left him for dead. Davey tensed and cried out at the piercing pain he felt in his side, "Ungh . . . J-Joey . . ."

"Oh God, I got you, I got you, kid," Joey whispered, holding tight to his friend who stiffened in agony until the spasm of pain relented. "I'm here, Davey, I'm here and you're safe now." The older boy bit his bottom lip to stop it from trembling, running his fingers gently along the kid's left side, where Davey had clutched when he first cried out. He was no doctor, but it didn't take a genius to know that the curly haired boy writhing beneath him had a few broken ribs. "Shh, shhh, st-stop thrashin' about, kiddo, you're gonna make it worse!"

"J-Joey? I . . . "

"Yeah, yeah, 'm here," Joey soothed softly, hot tears slipping from the corners of his eyes as he looked down at the younger boy's battered face. "Just lie still, Davey," Joey murmured looking up, green eyes searching for help, but to no avail. The boys playing ball had stopped their game, concerned eyes staring at them from across the field.

" . . . J-Joey? I didn't . . . d-didn't tell 'em . . . I didn't tell' em where you were . . ."

The older teen felt suddenly sick, knowing his little friend took the hit that should have come to him. Rage surged within the older boy as he silently vowed to get "The Razor" and teach him a thing or two. Nobody would hurt his Davey and get away unscathed.

"J-Joey?"

"I-I gotta go get help," Joey whispered, looking down at David's bruised and bleeding face once more, not wanting to leave his vulnerable friend. "You just . . . I-I gotta go kid, and . . ."

A small hand reached out desperately to cling to Joey's shirt, the curly haired boy groaning softly with the effort it took to hold onto the older teen. "N-no, don' leave me, J-Joey . . . please . . . Joey . . ."

"Joey?"

Startled green eyes looked up into a sea of familiar blue as distant memories faded back to the past and the present loomed once more to the forefront, bringing with it the sights and boisterous sounds of the bar and grill he'd been sitting in for the last half hour.

Starsky grinned, blue eyes dancing with fondness. "Hey, thought you were in a trance or somethin'. You okay? Too much to drink already, pal?"

Joseph Campanella found his mouth tweaking into a smile, dimples appearing at the corners, a natural reaction whenever he saw his childhood friend. "Took ya long enough, kid. It's no wonder I was zonin'." Joey grouched good-naturedly, green eyes darting to the watch strapped on his wrist. "Was just about to leave. Thought you'd forgotten."

"Well, we weren't too sure if we had the right place at first," Starsky said, eyeing the gang of leather clad bikers who gathered by the dimly lit pool table in the back of the smoky bar. "Not our usual kinda place to hang, ya know?"

Joey grinned noting the cop's wariness. "Yeah, well, we can leave if you want, but let me buy you a beer first. Appreciate you comin' out here to pick me up and all. Had business to do this side of town and you spared me a cab ride home." Green eyes drifted from Starsky's face to the tall, handsome blond standing just behind him. "And this must be Hutch? Right?"

Starsky smiled, pulling his partner towards the table as he said, "Yeah, this is my partner, Ken Hutchinson. Mostly he goes by Hutch, but I call him Blondie, or Blintz, or dummy, or meathead."

Hutch rolled his eyes at the exuberantly snorting brunet and then stuck out his hand towards the sitting man. "Hey, and you must be Joey. Nice to meet you, man," the blond detective greeted courteously, shaking the offered hand from the green-eyed gentleman. "I've heard a lot of good things about you from Starsky."

"Yeah?" Joey grinned. "And what kinda nicknames does he call me behind my back?"

"Oh, he doesn't call me these names behind my back," Hutch said with a grin, slapping his partner upon the shoulder with affection. "He says it right to my face because he's such an up and up kinda guy! Right buddy?"

Joey laughed, already liking the soft-spoken blond as Starsky gently shoved his partner into the booth, sliding in behind him.

"Don't listen to him, Joey," Starsky smirked. "Hutch is just bein' cocky. Thinks he's the brains' of the team. It's all that educational stuff that they crammed into his head in college. The dummy thinks he's a know it all!"

The three men laughed and the conversation easily flowed between them as Hutch and Joey got to know each other better. It warmed Starsky's heart to have his two best friends sitting together and laughing as they shared anecdotes revolving around their shared comrade and ribbed the curly haired detective who had played such an important part in both of their lives.

"So, Starsky tells me you're a bounty hunter?" Hutch asked conversationally as the dark haired detective tried once more to flag down the waitress to order three more bottles of beer.

"Yeah, it's not something one usually brags about, but hey, it pays the bills," Joey casually replied, grinning as he looked over to Starsky and then quickly changed the subject. "You might as well give it up, kid. I had to actually get off my ass and go to the bar to get this bottle here," the older man said, nodding his head towards the empty bottle that sat before him.

"Yeah, well, that's because you don't have the good looks that I do," Starsky joked, but after a fourth attempt, the handsome detective sighed and finally gave up, sliding out of the booth to rise to his feet.

"Lemme get it, Davey," Joey said quickly, attempting to get up, only to have Starsky push him gently back down, patting the older man's shoulder before removing his hand.

"Nah, you sit your ass down and keep Hutch busy, Joey. The big lug gets bored when I'm not there to hold his hand," the brunet cop said with a wink to his blond partner. "I can get the beer. Be right back."

"He'll be fine. He's a big boy now," Hutch reassured with a grin as he saw the concern on Joey's face and watched as the older man's dark green eyes never left his partner's retreating back. "My partner can take care of himself now, especially in a place like this."

Joey snorted softly, shifting his golden-flecked eyes back to the handsome blond cop sitting across from him. "Yeah, about that . . . thanks for always watchin' Davey's back. I know he may be a big boy now, but to me, he'll always be just a kid, ya know?"

Hutch grinned and then snorted, "Yeah, I know. In many ways, he is just a big kid, but that guy has a heart of gold."

"I'm glad he has you in his life, Hutch," Joey said quietly and with a sincerity that gave the blond pause. The older man's gratefulness could be plainly seen on his face; honest gratitude that his little Davey had someone to be there for him during the tough times of his life. "And also," Joey continued, his voice soft and reflective, "I wanted to take this time to thank you for what you tried to do for my Uncle Joe."

Hutch smiled wistfully, pale blue eyes filling with regret. "Yeah, don't even mention it. I'm sorry we couldn't have done more for Joe Durniak. From what little time I spent with your uncle, I liked him. I really did. He honestly cared for Starsky and his family; tried to watch out for them, and for that I'm grateful to the man."

Joey smiled, dark long lashes sweeping low to hide his emerald gaze from the man sitting across from him. "Yeah, I'm grateful for that too. Uncle Joey may have been many things to many people, but I think he basically tried to do what he thought was right. In the end, I think he was trying to make amends, to maybe right all the wrongs he'd done in the past . . . it's too bad it had to end the way it did for him."

Hutch could feel the other man's pain through those few spoken words, and the sensitive blond reached out to gently cover Joey's hand with his own. "He was afraid they were gonna get him," Hutch spoke softly, his light blue eyes were kind and sympathetic. "I think there were a lot of things he wanted to say to Starsky, things he'd only hinted about, like he was trying to prepare him for whatever was gonna come out when he testified. But no matter what, I could see that Durniak really cared about my partner and I just wished . . ." Hutch sighed, feeling the remorse he'd carried inside since Durniak was gunned down on their watch just a few months ago. "Well, I just wished things had ended differently for your uncle."

"He knew what might've happened if he went down that path," Joey said, patting the blond's hand upon his. "The Durniaks' have always had a lot of enemies . . . maybe more enemies than friends. Joe Durniak was no fool, Hutch. He went into this with his eyes wide open and at the very end, I think it made him happy knowing that it was little Davey Starsky that was holdin' him as he bled out. I know if it were me and I was dyin', I would die content if Davey's face was the last thing I saw."

"Me too," Hutch whispered, feeling a strange kinship to the man sitting across from him. "Starsky's more than just a partner to me; he's my best friend and I would die for him."

"Then that makes two of us, Hutch," Joey said softly, dark green eyes shifting from the blond's face to search the crowded room for the man they'd been speaking about. Spotting Starsky at the bar, Joey felt himself relax a little, watching as the dark haired cop made small talk with some bimbo who obviously had the hots for him and couldn't keep her paws off of his chest.

Joey grinned, chin nodding in Starsky's direction. "Looks like the flies are buzzin' 'round your partner."

Hutch's baby blues twinkled with mirth as he glanced over at his counterpart. "Are you sayin' what I think you're sayin'? I mean, if the fly comment pertains to that lady, then I'm assuming that Starsky must be the shit that she's buzzin' 'round."

Joey laughed out loud and Hutch joined in; both men lowering their heads together and snickering like a couple of schoolboys. They watched as the women smiled wantonly and ran her fingers through the dark, curly mat of hair that covered Starsky's chest, and then grinned to see their friend squirm, obviously was trying hard to dissuade the lady without being rude.

"You think he needs rescuin'?" Joey asked, noticing that one of the burly men at the pool table had stopped to watch the quiet commotion going on at the bar.

"Nah," Hutch said, "He's a big boy, remember? She's obviously drunk and he's just trying to be nice, letting her down easy. Maybe this'll teach him to button up his shirt next time." The two men snidely chuckled and then Hutch nodded his chin towards the approaching brunet. "See? Here he comes now, and he's even bought us a pitcher."

The dark haired cop slid into the booth next to his partner, grinning as Joey took the pitcher of beer and refilled their mugs. "Man, did ya see me bein' molested at the bar back there?"

"Yeah, she probably didn't get a good look at your face since she was obviously drunk," Hutch teased, smiling as Joey snorted loudly.

"Right. Pick on the handsome guy," Starsky said gruffly, though his dark blue eyes twinkled with amusement. It made him happy to see that Joey and Hutch seemed to be getting along so well. "Fugly guys like you two are always poor losers."

The three men laughed and talked the night away and three more pitchers were ordered and emptied before Starsky finally stood up and jammed his hand into the pocket of his tight denim jeans.

"Shit, kid," Joey teased, "You still wearin' the jeans your ma bought ya when you were thirteen? Them pants are so tight the seams are 'bout to give."

"Shut up, Campanella," Starsky grinned. "It's a lucky thing I'm gonna get the car out back to pick up your two sorry drunk asses, so that you don't have to walk it. The least I could have is a little appreciation here."

"We appreciate you, buddy," Hutch smirked. "We just don't appreciate your tight pants, right Joey?" The two men snickered as Starsky rolled his eyes with exasperation.

"Maybe I should have you guys walk off the booze. The cold night air will do the both of ya good."

"Go get the car, Starsk," Hutch urged, attempting to stand. "Me and Joey will meet you out front."

"Be careful, kid," Joey cautioned as he watched his friend make his way to the side door of the establishment, which led to the alleyway out back. "Make sure you keep your keys between your fingers."

"You worry too much, you know that?" Hutch said as they watched Starsky walk out the door. "You better watch it, Joey. Keep that up, and Starsky'll give you my title of 'Mother Hen'." The two men laughed out loud as they finally stood to stumble their way to the front entrance of the bar.

To be continued . . .

A/N: Please excuse any grammatical errors or typos. Was rushing to get this posted.

Mahalo!