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: "In a Blink of an Eye" might be considered a dark tale and contains some graphic scenes and foul language that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. Please consider yourself warned, I would hate to spoil someone's fun.
A/N: Aloha Everyone,
You know the other night when I was supposed to be editing and posting this chapter? (cough, cough) Well, I was on You Tube watching some clips of this old TV Western called, "Lancer." As I watched the clips last night, I just was amazed at how much the main characters reminded me of Starsky and Hutch- cowboy style! (big grin). The story is about two brothers (from different mothers) who prior to meeting, had no idea of each other's existence, but they reunite to aid their father. After getting off to a rough start, the boys become the best of friends as well as family. Okay, I don't know why I'm even sharing this with you – must be because I'm bleary-eyed and wasted and I'm having diarrhea of the mouth (fingers lol), or maybe its just an excuse, but I wanted you to know that I was sort of doing something S & H related . . . but anyway, sorry, and just go check it out yourself if you're interested.
And now, without further ado, I bring you chapter four . . .
Love & light, ShawnePreviously on "In a Blink of an Eye":
Hutch frowned, knowing his partner was pushing him away again and damn if he was going to let him. Rising to his feet, Hutch made a puppy dog face, light blue eyes softening with disappointment, lips turned down into a sad frown as the fair detective held his hand out to the brunet. "C'mon, Starsk. I promise I won't bite. You trust me don't you?"
Starsky glared at the now smiling blond and then sighed with resignation, "You don't play fair, Hutchinson."
Hutch laughed and pulled his tired partner to his feet. "You take a shower while I change the sheets. The way you look, buddy, you'll be asleep long before I finish brushing my teeth."
~Chapter Four~
The musty smell of antiquated junk and stale air assailed Starsky's nostrils as he descended to the dark basement below. His body grew rigid as the rickety step he stood upon protested loudly against his unfamiliar weight. The dark haired detective glanced over his shoulder to look over at his partner, but Hutch was gone.Feeling his heart beating an erratic rhythm against the hollow of his chest, Starsky strained to see in the darkness of the basement, making nothing out except the vague gray shapes of stacked boxes that lined the nearest wall.
A disembodied voice called out from the darkness and the brunet instantly stopped; carefully listening to the soft, but frantic whispering that remained unintelligible to straining ears. A quiet rustling could be heard, a chain being yanked, and then a sickly yellow light that dimly lit the interior of the basement made Starsky squint once more. The swaying bulb hanging overhead created shadows that drifted to and fro and the dark haired cop widened his eyes as he caught sight of the broad back of the fat balding man who stood turned to the far side of the room. Though his hefty back blocked the way, Starsky could see Frank's meaty hands struggling to hold onto his victim in front of him.
"Hey . . ." Starsky snapped angrily, trying to see over the older man's shoulder to the victim he held, planting his feet firmly apart as he cocked the trigger of his Baretta. The soft 'click' sounded ominous in the quiet darkness. "Turn around slowly with your hands on your head. NOW!"
The angry shout from the cop made the pedophile jump. Frank turned slowly dragging his victim along with him. Familiar golden hair caught the attention of the rigid brunet and Starsky gasped as he saw his partner clutched in the arms of the perpetrator, barely conscious as the knife grazed the tender the flesh of Hutch's neck.
"See something you like, pig?" the pedophile sneered. The swaying light made the man's eyes glitter in the darkness and the brunet was reminded of a feral beast about to rip into his prey.
Starsky swallowed, wanting to rush to the aid of his partner, but refraining from any sudden movements. "Listen to me . . . just . . . just take it easy and let my partner go. I'll help you get through this. You'll be saving the life of a cop if you let him go. That's a big thing . . . they'll go easy on you, Frank, I promise."
"You promise? Ha! Ya gonna take care of your partner just like you took care of that kid?" the fat man grinned evilly; beads of perspiration ran down the sides of his pudgy face. "You gonna try to come closer? Be the big hero? 'Cause your kind of help didn't exactly save the boy, did it?" The bald man roughly jerked the blond cop against his chest, causing Hutch to gasp and open his eyes.
Green.
Not the familiar light blue of the sky.
Just green, like the color of moss, like the color of puke, like the color of a dying boy's eyes . . .
"Hutch!" Starsky called out, stormy blue eyes darting from his partner's face to the blood that spewed out beneath the vicious downward slash of the blade.
"Noooooooo!"
"NO!" Starsky gasped, jolting awake in the darkness of the silent bedroom, his heart pounding painfully against his chest. Trying to control the trembling in his hands, Starsky clutched them together as he got his bearings, the incessant chirping of crickets outside the cabin began to lull away the fear that coursed through the brunet when he first jerked awake. Breathing heavily, Starsky glanced over at his partner who continued to sleep and for that, the dark haired cop was grateful. Closing his eyes with a ragged sigh, Starsky could still see snatches of the dark images that haunted his dream; splashes of red that colored the back of his eyelids with the blood spewed from the Hutch's gaping throat.
Starsky snapped his eyes opened and shuddered, the vivid dream still very much with him. Looking over once more to reassure himself that Hutch was alive and well, the brunet listened silently to the quiet snores coming from his best friend. Using the back of his wrist to swipe at the perspiration that beaded his forehead, Starsky eased his legs over the side of the bed, standing to stare at his partner once more in the dark of the night.
The corners of Hutch's lips twitched and a shadow of a smile appeared as the blond continued to sleep, evidence of a pleasant dream running through his head; totally unaware of the curly haired detective who stood above him, gratefully watching the way his partner's chest rose and fell with the deep breathing that slumber brings on.
Starsky swallowed. 'God, if anything ever happened to you, Hutch . . . if I ever lost you to the streets . . .' The dark haired detective quaked at the devastating thought of losing his best friend, long lashes lowering to hide the pain that flashed in the depths of his dark blue eyes. Hutch was his anchor, his lifeline, the better half to his soul. The brunet knew he might as well die himself if he ever lost Hutch to this job; after all, how could he live with only half a heart? Starsky shivered in the chill of the room, knowing that if Hutch ever bit the bullet it would ultimately be his fault. Hutch depended on him to watch his back. If Hutch ever died on his watch, Starsky knew he would never be able to forgive himself.
Starsky could still feel the slight tremors that raced through his body. The nightmare had shaken him to the core as it often did. As days turned into weeks since Frank's arrest, the disturbing nightmares of Sean had slowly been replaced with his image morphing into Hutch as the victim in the basement. Starsky knew it was his hidden fear of losing his partner that had somehow warped the reality of the dream, but seeing Hutch die like that, night after night, left the exhausted brunet on the edge of a nervous breakdown, his mood growing ever darker in the waking hours that he spent with his blond counterpart.
Starsky softly sighed, dragging one hand through his tousled curls; trying to shake the nagging fear that lingered in the darkness; like a ghost that haunted his every move, like the sad green gaze that plagued his sleep. God he was so tired! If only he could rest for a few hours, then maybe he could get through the fishing expedition Hutch had planned for him in the morning. Making up his mind, Starsky padded silently to the dilapidated dresser where his duffle bag sat. The brunet quietly zipped open the bag, glancing once more at the blond to make sure that Hutch was still sleeping soundly.
Reassured, Starsky dug down beneath the pile of clothes to the bottom of the bag, his fingers wrapping around the cylindrical plastic container that held the small white pills he'd been using for the past two weeks. The weary brunet trudged back to his side of the bed and sat at the edge of the worn mattress. Removing the cap from the bottle, Starsky shook out two sleeping tablets and downed both with the glass of water Hutch left for him on the bedside table. Though he usually stayed away from taking any over the counter drugs, Starsky was growing used to the comfort and rest these pills provided, especially since he'd hadn't been able to sleep through the night since the Fitzgerald's case.
Shivering with the chill in the room, the dark haired detective placed the small container on the bedside table and crawled back under the covers, feeling the warmth emanating from his partner's body. For a brief moment, Starsky was tempted to wake Hutch up, needing to hear the familiar softness of his friend's voice, wanting to feel the comfort of his touch.
Shaking his head, Starsky silently chided himself for being such a sappy wimp. If anyone could have read his soapy thoughts right then, the brunet would never be able to live it down. Fuck! He needed to pull himself together and stop wallowing in whatever it was that was eating away at him. Kicking himself in the proverbial ass, Starsky hunkered down for the short wait till the pills kicked in.
Even now as he lay in the dark, Starsky could "see" the green of Sean's eyes as they grew dull and lifeless; he could "hear" the boy's pained and wistful voice as he called out for his mother. Starsky shuddered silently and closed his eyes. He knew the boy's death had affected him greatly. He didn't need anyone to tell him that he was messed up, not Hutch, or Dobey, and definitely not some cold and clinical shrink he didn't know.
Starsky forced himself to relax, consciously easing the tightness he felt in his limbs and abdomen as he snuggled deeper into the quilt. Hell! He just needed to get it together. He was strong enough to pull himself out of the hole he had crawled into. If he could get over the nightmares of Marcus and the abduction he suffered at the hands of those insane cultists, then he could definitely get over this too!
Starsky sighed softly in the dark of the room; the never-ending drone of crickets became an almost soothing white noise in the background of his overwhelming thoughts. Starsky knew that if he were honest with himself, maybe there was a small part of him that didn't want to go back to force, especially if it meant that he might lose Hutch. He loved being a cop, it was in his blood, and he never kidded himself at the risks involved with his job, but losing Hutch was a price he just wasn't willing to pay anymore. And to add insult to injury, being forced to see a shrink not only grated on his nerves and his pride, but it pissed him off royally! Fuck Simonetti and Dreyden's stipulation. If he was being forced to see a shrink, then maybe they could just take his job and shove it!
Feeling a little better with his self-talk, the brunet blinked owlishly in the darkness and then pulled the blanket over his shoulder. Turning to face his back against Hutch's, Starsky smiled as he wiggled closer to the heat of his partner, snuggling his bottom against the blond's until both posteriors connected. Feeling suddenly safe, Starsky sighed and closed his eyes giving in to the feeling of the familiar drowsiness that the pill brought on. Maybe now, he could finally get some much-needed sleep. Pushing his unresolved thoughts to the back of his mind, Starsky burrowed his cheek into the softness of the pillow and forced himself to concentrate on pleasant thoughts and happier times spent with friends and loved ones in the hopes that it would somehow shield him and keep his nightmares at bay.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-
"Rise and shine, meathead! The fish are waiting! If you hurry up, we can watch the sun come up!"
Hutch grinned as he heard the muffled protest that came from his partner who stuck his dark curly head under his pillow. The happy blond lit the bedside lantern to illuminate the tiny bedroom. It was still dark outside, but it wouldn't be long before the sky lightened with the coming of a new day.
"C'mon, Starsk . . . the fish aren't gonna fry themselves. Let's get a move on it, pal!" The tall blond stooped over and rudely slapped the brunet's bottom, laughing as his partner grumbled even more, snuggling even deeper into the quilt to avoid his irritating friend. Snorting loudly, Hutch turned to glance at the little traveling clock on Starsky's beside table to check the time.
Light blue eyes widened as Hutch spotted the small container of pills. Frowning, the tall blond reached for the cylinder and eyed the label, turning it around to read the directions on the back. The flaxen haired detective shifted his eyes from the pills to the still sleeping brunet. "What the hell, buddy?" Hutch murmured softly.
Sitting at the edge of the mattress next to his partner and lifting the pillow, Hutch gently shook his friend awake, watching as the long dark lashes lifted to reveal dazed and unfocused pupils that slowly rolled to the back of his head as Starsky drifted off to sleep once more. Shaking his own head and sighing quietly, the blond rose to his feet, carefully replacing the pillow beneath the dark curls and tucking the corners of the quilt around his sleeping friend.
For a second, the tall blond could feel himself growing angry and frustrated, knowing his brooding partner hadn't told him about the pills he'd been taking just to sleep at night. Yet, Hutch knew Starsky was exhausted, both mentally, as well as physically. He could read it in the tired lines on his friend's face and the haunted look in the familiar blue of his eyes. Hutch had also witnessed the nightmare Starsky had the other day as the weary brunet rested on the couch and the irritation he felt in his head soon dissipated as the compassion in his heart took over.
"Awww, Gordo. . ." Hutch whispered, leaning over to gently stroke a curl back from his friend's brow. "Why didn't you tell me, huh? You don't need to hide this from me, buddy." The tall blond smiled as an errant curl clung to his baby finger. Swallowing hard, Hutch gently drew his hand away, and pulled the blankets over the brunet's shoulder as Starsky turned and snuggled into its warmth. Shaking his head and sighing softly, the handsome blond whispered, "Fishing can wait another day, but you and me need to talk real soon, Starsk . . . real soon!"
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
"Hey . . . mornin', Blondie."
Hutch looked up from the rod and reel that he held on his lap, the fishing line held between his thumb and forefinger lowered as the disheveled brunet shuffled into the living room, rubbing the sleep from one eye with the heel of his hand. "Hey, pal! Nice underwear you got going there," the blond smirked, shifting his eyes back to the fishing gear he was working on.
Starsky snorted and stretched, scratching his abdomen through the coarse weave of the red long johns he wore to bed. The damn thing made him itchy! "Gets cold up here! I was shiverin' last night even with them on. So, when we headin' out?"
Hutch turned to look up at his friend, brows drawing together in a frown. "Heading out? To where?"
"To fish, dummy!" Starsky replied, flopping down on the battered couch he was growing very fond of. "What happened to all that talk about the fish gettin' up at the crack of dawn and . . . what?" The ranting brunet frowned at the incredulous look that overcame his partner's features. "What?"
Shaking his head, Hutch gently lowered the rod and reel to the wooden floor of the cabin. "Starsk," the blond began, his golden voice quiet and tolerant, "It's not morning anymore. It's already late afternoon. You slept the day away, buddy."
"What?" Starsky's frown grew deeper and he trudged to the nearest window to peer outside. Turning to look at his partner the brunet asked, "How come you let me sleep so long? What are we gonna eat for dinner?"
Hutch smiled. Food would be his partner's first concern. "Oh, I saw a bar and grill about five miles down the mountain road near the lake we were gonna fish at. Thought maybe we could drive there for dinner and fish tomorrow morning instead. We still have a few more days before we have to head back to the city, there's no rush to do anything. Besides, I thought you could use the sleep, Starsk."
"Huh!" the brunet huffed, glancing down at his bare feet. God, he was blowing it! This was supposed to be a relaxing getaway for Hutch and he was fucking it up, but he was just so tired! Even now, the dark haired brunet had to fight the urge to crawl back into the welcoming warmth of the bed he'd just left, letting the lethargic waves wash over him, lulling him back to the sleep his body so desperately needed. Feeling guilty, Starsky lifted his lashes, and looked over at the blond who continued to smile warmly. "'M sorry, Hutch," Starsky mumbled, "Didn't mean to ruin our fishin' date. You should'a just woke me up."
"No big deal, Gordo," the blond said with a dismissing wave of his hand. It's been a rough few weeks and I knew you needed to catch up on your beauty sleep, pal. You look like shit, buddy!"
Starsky snorted and then dropped his eyes once more. "That bad, huh?"
Hutch's face softened as his partner lifted his gaze to look at him. "Why didn't you tell me you were having nightmares, Starsk?
The brunet heaved a sigh. "'Cause it ain't a big deal. Hey, you made coffee this mornin'?"
Hutch frowned, knowing his stubborn partner was trying to change the subject, but this had gone on long enough and Hutch wasn't willing anymore to let his partner steer the conversation. "Nope, no coffee. And yes, it is a big deal, Starsky, if you feel like you have to take these just to sleep through the night." The blond fished out the small container of pills from his pocket and shook them.
Dark blue eyes slowly lifted from the small, incriminating bottle sitting innocently on the large palm of Hutch's hand. Swallowing hard, Starsky turned away from the questions he saw in his partner's light blue eyes. Remembering how he left the bottle on the little table next to the clock, Starsky wanted to kick himself in the head. What the hell was he thinking? How could he have forgotten that "Mother Hen" Hutchinson was sharing the same bed with him?
"Well?"
The brunet turned to look at the tall blond, seeing the frustration and concern plastered over Hutch's features. "Well, what? So I took some of those. What's the big deal? They're just over the counter sleepin' pills."
"I can see that, Starsk. How long?"
"How long what?"
Hutch sighed and tiredly rubbed a hand over his face, knowing he was in for a long haul. With as much patience he could muster, the blond said, "How long have you been taking the pills?"
"I don' know," the brunet replied gruffly. "A coupl'a weeks maybe?"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Sapphire blue turned to smoky cobalt as the curly haired cop snapped, "'Cause you ain't my ma, Hutch! What? You think you own me? You wanna know every detail of my life? You gonna start loggin' down when I take a shit, too?" The dark haired detective turned abruptly, wanting to make his escape into the bedroom he'd just exited, but the sudden firm grasp prevented him from leaving.
"Uh-uh, buddy. We're talking about this right here and now . . . no more running." Hutch said firmly as the brunet glanced down at the large hand encircling his bicep. Hutch's blue eyes widened in surprise when Starsky shoved him away, breaking the hold he had on his partner's arm.
"Back off, Hutch," Starsky snarled, feeling suddenly threatened and contained, the walls of the tiny cabin seemed to be narrowing and shrinking, trapping the claustrophobic brunet within. "Jus' give me some space, okay?"
"I have been giving you space and it isn't helping." Hutch snapped back, his ire growing as his patience waned. "I know things aren't right between us, that you're hurting inside, and I want to help, Starsk!"
"Then help by getting outta my face." Starsky growled, his voice rough and intimidating, cobalt daggers shooting up at the tall handsome blond who rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"That isn't going to work with me, Starsky. We've been partners for far too long. You can't bully me away from caring about you, pal." Hutch replied calmly, watching the play of emotions that ghosted across the brunet's expressive face before Starsky turned away.
The dark haired cop began to pace, back and forth from the window to the fireplace, blue eyes darting to and fro but never resting on one particular object or making contact with the eyes of his partner who silently watched his friend's agitation from across the room.
The tall blond sighed, wanting to breach the sudden chill that descended upon them. He knew his partner wanted him to drop the subject, but he was so tired of pretending that things were fine when they obviously were not. Hutch swallowed, knowing how obstinate and unyielding his moody partner could be, but he bravely made his way over to his friend who now stood by the window silently looking out at the forest of pines.
Clearing his throat, the soft-hearted blond hesitantly reached out to touch his dark haired counterpart, laying his hand gently on Starsky's shoulder, feeling his partner tense abruptly as he drew the brunet's attention away from the window. Cobalt blue met and locked on the soft azure of the sky, until Starsky finally bowed his head, breaking the connection between the two silent men.
Hutch gave a little reassuring squeeze before he gently said, "I know things have been really rough and I get that you're upset by everything that's happened, buddy. I just . . . I just want to help that's all. I tears me up inside to see this eating away at you . . . eating away at us." Though the brunet said nothing, Hutch could tell that Starsky was listening intently to every word he said and that encouraged the blond to continue.
"I don't know, Starsk. I just feel you pulling away from me. I didn't know you were having nightmares and I didn't know you were taking pills to sleep at night. Are you . . . are you angry at me for something I might have done? Because . . . because if I upset you in any way, I'm sorry. I don't know what I did, or maybe it's something I didn't do . . . I just need you to talk to me . . . I jus . . ."
"Ya didn't do nuthin', Hutch," Starsky sighed, raising long dark lashes to reveal twin sapphires bright with pain. "Don't go blamin' yourself. It's not about you, okay? It's me. I just . . . I'm fucked, okay? And I need you to give me some time to sort everthin' out 's all."
Hutch slowly let out the breath he was unaware of holding, hope filling his heart at Starsky's words. Perhaps his partner was finally going to start lowering his shields and allow the comfort the blond so desperately wanted to give. "I don't know, Starsk. Maybe you've just had too much time to think and dwell on everything, you know? Sometimes it's more healing to take action. Maybe it's time we get back to work."
At the sudden frown that marred the brunet's features, Hutch quickly continued, "I know that it pisses you off that you need to seek consultation from a psychologist before you can return to the streets, that Simonetti and Dreyden are getting away with forcing that stipulation down your throat, but it's not a big deal, right? I mean, both of us have done this before, we're used to playing "the game". It'll just be the same old song and dance that you've done time and again and soon you'll be out of that doc's office and th. . ."
"I ain't seeing a shrink, Hutch." Starsky said adamantly, blue eyes growing hard with determination as he stared at his gaping partner.
"But that's . . . that's the only way you can get back to work, Starsk. I mean, if you don't see a . . ."
Starsky interjected, his voice cold and final, "Then maybe it's time I find another job, Hutch, 'cause like I said before, I ain't seein' no shrink."
To be continued . . .