Then Neither Can He

Chapter 8

The crisp, clean lines of the concrete and glass structure barely registered with him. It's modernistic and spare design blended into the sandy scrub – all pristine white on golden white. Lots of glass and metal touches . Cutting edge architecture. Certainly not his usual style or choice for a weekend casual hangout.

But then this wasn't his usual weekend. And he wasn't here for a casual hangout. There was nothing usual about anything in his life at the moment and walking into some strange bare, minimalistic beach hide-away left him feeling as divorced in his physical world as he felt divorced in his head from himself and his life.

Mickey had sure delivered. Probably a little too well in fact. He had simply wanted a pad to crash in, that was secluded and quiet, not some designer beach house that looked like it would serve well in a movie set for Christ Sake.

Where did these weasels get these places anyway? He just hoped that which ever Mafia middle man, drug addicted celebrity or high-class roller owned this joint was not likely to turn up to their home in the next 72 hours. He wondered vaguely what Mickey had on the owner of this place to be able to score it for his other 'client's' needs?

In the end what did it matter? Weasels and street players worked their angles and played both sides to whatever advantage they could. In another time and another place he would have questioned the legality of Mickey's resources. Tonight he simply didn't care.

All that mattered was he was here. He had achieved that much.

He chose what he thought was meant to be the master bedroom and strode through across its palatial perimeter. With casual feline grace he threw his incongruously humble and beaten up duffel bag down on the huge plush bed. The upmarket furnishings and sheer size of the bedroom suite had him shaking his head. Drawn to the wide expanse of clear glass that framed the dramatic view of the crashing waves, he unlocked the door and slid the smooth door to open. At any other time he would have dropped down in one of the easy lounges on the generous balcony, beer in hand and just wallowed in these sheer majestic surrounds.

Now? He was too agitated, too displaced to even settle for a moment.

What the hell was he going to do rattling around in this big concrete and glass box with its acres of white tiles and marble finished bathrooms for the next few days?

What in the fuck was he even doing here?

For the past few hours he had been driven on pure instinct – the instinct to put as much distance between him and his home as he could possibly achieve in the minimum amount of time and with a minimum amount of mental reserve.

A place to be, to sit and think, a place to be totally alone. No one would be calling him, knocking on his door, catching him unawares when and if he might decide to leave the sanctuary for food or supplies. No one who would remind him that he was what he was inside his own head – a cop who had let another cop mess so badly with his life and his work that he had made him doubt everything about himself.

Alone in the car on the drive up the long winding coastal road he had finally begun to face the truth that Hutch had held up in front of him to look at. The truth about himself and his behavior in the past weeks.

The bar fight, the young girl, the snide comments to Hutch's poor Riley, the reckless drinking and bravado – none of that was him. He had feigned indifference and denial when Hutch presented him with the facts – but he knew of course that Hutch was right. The foggy memory of forcing himself on the young woman only the previous night had him cringing.

That behavior was not him – not his personal style, nor did it sit well with his own moral framework. Irrespective of her leads and coercion, he would never have resorted to what he did last night with someone so young. The Starsky that had all but forced himself on her had not been the Starsky he lived with every day. But, it was the Starsky he knew he was fast becoming. A grittier, disillusioned, lower self esteemed version of his former self. This transformation, this degeneration of himself had been a work in progress since the day during the Kalzo operation when he sensed that Ryan was playing a sick game with him.

All of it was there in front of him now to examine. The fighting, shoving, dominating, verbal bullying – all of it his lame way of kicking back at what Ryan had stripped away from him.

And then Ryan's tainting of him stripped him even further – he'd lost his badge. His job was at the core of his identity and his backbone. Without it he was energy without a purpose. It was a sobering realization, but he had long been aware of it. His identity was melded into that badge and all the parts of him and the roles he played, that went along with that badge. More than half of him was embodied in his partnership with Hutch – as cops on the streets, cops at home still sharing cases, hashing out scenarios, thinking and reacting like cops even off duty.

From the moment that Ryan had felled him in that alleyway and sank that knife into his side, that whole identity had been shattered. Ryan took away what being a cop meant to him. As a cop he had resolve, conviction, goals, and black and white rules to live by in the technicolor world of criminality. His badge, his job and all that went with – primarily his brotherhood with Hutch, his partnership with him, were his constants.

But Ryan left him for dead - tried to kill him and left him for dead.

When he had woken up in the hospital he felt it.

He sense of all that was solid in his identity and his life had shifted.

All that had been unshakeable had been shaken.

And then Ryan had come back to take more from him. And when there was little left of him to take, Ryan tried to take Hutch down too. Tried to use Hutch's interlude into heroin addiction against him.

Ryan had cast Starsky in the role of victim. He might have believed he wanted him as his lover, but in reality all he had done was make Starsky his pathetic victim.

This was what being a victim was – capitulating over and over again until there was nothing left.

He had pulled one of the still cold beers from the six-pack he had picked up as he turned off the main road a few miles back. He hadn't bothered with food – he planned only enough to get the beers and get to his destination.

Then today had happened.

All he had left in life, or so it seemed, had been his connection with Hutch. Even Ryan couldn't touch that. Or so he had thought.

Ryan could bruise it, bend it, twist it but in the end the force between him and his partner was impenetrable.

Sure they could mess each other up – and they frequently did. Time and time again. Argue, curse, mock, patronize, one-up each other – but in the end what they had was always put back together. Sure they might give each other some emotional bruising. But - it would always end in the other holding the "make it up and put it behind us" icepack for the one who'd been bruised.

Then today. Today happened – and tonight, tonight Starsky was still wondering how much ice would be needed to take the bruising out of this blow. What words or actions could bring solace to Hutch going against him on this one?

He wondered how many calls Hutch or Dobey – then Hutch again, as Hutch would keep trying to reach him, had put through to his apartment. No doubt had the calls been answered by him he would have heard carefully constructed lines in the vein of ' Just come on down here to the station so we can all put this on the table and talk about it.'

Well he didn't think any amount of talking would help him now. Not once the Department knew Ryan had done him over physically and sexually. Not once the Department found out that Hutch was hiding scars of needle tracks under his shirtsleeves.

He didn't want to fucking talk.

He'd been too proud to talk – to the shrink, to Dobey – to Hutch.

Hutch had pulled out the stops. He just kept on wanting to be let in – inside his head. And now he had gone to Dobey with it all. But this had happened to him – to him, not Hutch. Why couldn't he damn well just leave it alone? Why did he always think he had to make everything better when all this would do would make it worse?

The sun was sliding completely away now and he opened his second beer.

The soft dusky light reflected off the darkening ocean outside and the noise of the waves was so rhythmical it was already quieting his overwrought mind. Beers, driving and the sound of the ocean – a combination that was mellowing his anxiety and last vestiges of anger.

The view of the open expanse of ocean and darkening sand was captivating.

Hutch would love this place. He'd love to be out there right now jogging along that endless stretch of beach.

The phone was staring at him. An open line as Mickey had promised.

So easy to call him now – hear his calm, modulated voice. He would be speaking but listening too – trying to work out how his buddy was. Then of course there would be questions, and concerns – offers to come and talk, to be with him. Hutch would reassure him that everything was going to be alright.

But it wasn't all right. Starsky couldn't even begin to see how it could be all right again. In order to go back to work, he had to spill his guts to the departmental shrink – who had already worked out there was a lot that Starsky needed to spill.

If he stayed suspended like he had been, his behavior was in self-destruct mode – which it had been. Because he had been in self-destruct mode, Hutch had taken matters into his own hands. The guts that Starsky hadn't wanted to spill to the shrink would be spread all over the squad room and all through the department.

Here ya' all go ! Here are my spilled guts everywhere – whether you want 'em or not. I didn't want to do it to ya' guys – would have spared ya' all the sordid details. But there you go – secret's out now.

Two – onto his third - beer in, Starsky headed back to the big open bedroom. The shower beckoned and the clothes he had on since early that morning now felt constraining and stale.

He slipped into the warm shower –the bathroom's comfortable and luxurious fixtures and surrounds lost on him. Only the water was a comfort. Only the heat was a luxury.

He touched his still so tender side and thought of the knife projecting out – jutting out at that obscene angle. The imagery of his own guts slippery, wet and tainted falling out of him brought on a sudden rush of nausea. Spilled guts – his guts, all over the Department. In many ways it was as though Ryan had really gutted him in the very sense of the word when he drove in that blade. Surgery and sutures couldn't really stop what was inevitable.

Ryan had succeeded. He had sliced Starsky open and now he couldn't hold himself together in one piece anymore.

Nor it seemed could Hutch.

oooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOooo

It was getting dark by now and he was getting increasingly cramped and bored waiting in the car. He'd followed the Torino carefully – all the way up the winding coastal road and pulled back when he realized that the final destination had been reached.

It wasn't an easy feat to tail a cop, especially a cop as wary and experienced as Starsky. But then when it was a cop tailing a cop – the situation was different. Ryan prided himself on his own level of prowess and his own set of skills in the area of detective work. He had honed them over the years on undercover jobs, just like the man he had followed all the way here from the outer city limits. He knew that he and Starsky were matched equals on a professional level even though it was his fantasy to overpower the other detective in the personal arena.

In his own mind, way back since the Academy he had liked to imagine that Starsky was his partner, not Hutchinson's. Starsky was meant to be his partner – on the streets and in the bedroom and for these years he resented the hold that Hutchinson held over him and the bond that the two of them shared. Over the past month or more his resentment for that union and his feelings toward the Starsky's blond partner had gone from disdain to pure hatred.

Hutchinson had always stood between him and the one he wanted. Starsky was so beguiled by his partner that he could see no other, would not entertain the potential of anyone else in his life. Finally with the undercover operation, its sequelae and his persistence Ryan believed he was breaking through this armor the two had built around themselves. Off the streets and no lingered partnered with Hutchinson, Starsky was more his own man, more vulnerable, more open to new opportunities. There was a definite sense that the two of them were more adrift from each other – no longer the single unit that he had come across that day in the squad room at their precinct.

And now. Now Starsky was totally alone. It was obvious now that he was acting independently of his partner. He had come to this isolated spot by himself, had orchestrated an underhanded arrangement to secure this house without it would seem Hutchinson's involvement or knowledge. All of this had been carried out quite hurriedly on the heels of Hutch calling the meeting with Dobson and Dobey.

Ryan's detecting instincts were on overdrive. It would seem that he was not the only one unhappy with what would appear to be Hutchinson's uncovering of what had gone on between him and Starsky. It was apparent that the blond, in trying to protect his beloved partner by running to the brass, had pissed not only him off, but also it would seem, Starsky too. The very man he was trying to protect. Ryan had to laugh. What a complete fuck up Hutchinson was making of it all.

The joke was on him all around. While he was back in the city trying to pin his ass on the departmental Wanted board, trying to make it all better for his Starsky – the two people he was trying to separate were here together. Here in this isolated, remote and by all accounts from the outside, very comfortable beach house. They were here alone, miles from the city and now – and this was the highlight of the show – he, had absolutely nothing to lose anymore. Hutchinson would be already galvanizing Dobson into taking him off duty, putting him under the IA microscope, more than likely taking his badge.

What the fuck did it matter now what he did now or how he did it? His number was more than likely up – so might as well go for the big prize.

Serendipity had brought him here. He had followed his lover who was equally upset about what Hutchinson had done.

You stupid sonofabitch – you've thrown your partner right at me.

Ryan sneered in the semi dark of his car.

Well thank you very much Detective Hutchinson. I graciously accept the gift you have provided.

The car dashboard showed that his gift had been inside now for over forty-five minutes. Should be more than enough time to have settled himself and be relaxed.

Hope you're all relaxed for me Starsk…. because I'm coming in – lover.

oooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOooo

Four times – four times he had tried to get him on the phone and each time nothing. It was hard to remember the last time that Starsky had ever picked up to answer. Surely he must know the way he let the phone ring and ring that it was him – that he was worried, concerned.

Be realistic Hutch. You didn't expect him to answer. You know he's hurt and pissed at you. You know he wants nothing to do with any of this. As if he's going to pick up the fucking phone.

"He's not answering Cap'n. Hasn't been answering his phone for days now. There's no point in trying anymore. "

"Well then you'll just have to go over and get him. He needs to be here Hutch. You know that. We can't go forward with anything until we have Starsky in here with a statement on record."

"I know that. Of course I know that – but he wants no part of this. He never wanted me to do this. That's the whole damn problem here. That's why that maniac Ryan has been tramping all over his life – that's why Starsky needs to see the departmental Doc – Ryan has screwed him up and Starsky just wants to bury the whole mess."

"Well you've come forward now and we need to take action. If all you've said is true –" he held up his big meaty hands to stop Hutch's protests and lash back. "If, it is backed up by a statement from Starsky and we can prove the allegations, then Ryan will be taken care of immediately. But without Starsky – what have we got here Hutch? "

"Ryan has been holding me over his head. I told you that earlier."

"Yes – and I can see how that would have been a big deterrent for Starsky. He put a lot of man-hours, a lot of blood sweat and tears in getting you through that terrible time after the Forrest ordeal Hutch. I watched him go through it even when you were better. The fear, the risk that it would all come out and be distorted and used against you. We both protected you against that risk Hutch – I'm as worried as he is that Ryan could blow this all up in our faces. I personally don't care about an internal reprimand for "not noticing" what had happened to you – but Starsky – he will pay a big price to see it get used against you. You say you don't care about your own position on the force being jeopardized and I know that is honorable when you are wanting to make what happened to Starsky go away. But remember – Starsky will not want to see you go down in ashes for something he has painstakingly worked against – to stop that very thing from happening. To stop you from losing your career because of judgmental in-house politics and prejudices. "

"What exactly are you trying to say here Captain?"

"That you want Ryan. You want Ryan because he has hurt Starsky - physically and psychologically. But in order to get Ryan you have to put Starsky through equally painful hurt – at least on the psychological level. Starsky knows that – he made his decision to work this out his own way. Your way may not be the way he is prepared to work it out."

"Of course its not! Because he will stay quiet for me and because he doesn't what the shame of what Ryan did to him become public knowledge. But Ryan is not going to go away Cap'n. He is escalating – he's mad. I don't know how far he will go to hurt Starsky – or me – because that hurts Starsky too. Someone has to stop him. I'm certain there is evidence or trails of other inappropriate or semi criminal activity he has used with other officers on the force over the years. It must be able to be uncovered. He's obsessed with Starsky now – but in the past I bet we will find other officers he fixated himself upon."

He went on.

"And that is why we don't know about them. Like Starsky, they would rather bury their victimization than have themselves pulled into the cesspool of departmental gossip and here say.

"I'm certain of it. And so you must ensure that Starsky is protected – all of this stays confidential – tightly wrapped up. Purely on 'a need to know basis' only."

Dobey smiled sadly and put his deeply furrowed face into his cupped hands.

"Hutch – that's utopia. You know it is."

"Ok – Ok…..So you want me to do NOTHING? You want that this animal just keeps trolling the department for new meat? Works out his obsession with Starsk eventually – not just yet. He hasn't finished with him yet….but let's just leave him get Starsky out of his system in whatever way he finds he needs to. Maybe attack him a few more times, drive him to the brink of insanity, take his badge away FOREVER. And then when he's finally tired of him, throw him aside and then move onto the next officer who gets assigned to him. Like Riley? Riley! He could so nearly have had him.

And none of them will want to come forward because Ryan has them all in the corner – his badge but their careers, their disgrace because they were unfortunate enough to be chosen by the sick fucker. Unfortunate enough to have their whole lives FUCKED over by him.

He is insane Captain. Quietly and ruthlessly insane. He's calculating and careful – manipulative and intelligent. That's why he's a good cop. A very good cop – unless you happen to be someone he wants sexually. Than God help you. He's also incredibly strong and violent.

Ryan is a psychopath Captain. This is not just about IA and office gossip. He is a psychologically depraved human with sexually violent tendencies. Either you get him or I'll go find another avenue."

Dobey knew they were at a stalemate. He knew also that Hutch was at his end with all of this. He needed to draw some line to define where they were headed.

"We have your statements. On that basis Dobson is calling Ryan in for the IA to begin some initial questioning. That is happening now. You – you need to calm down, think like a cop and understand where we are placed here with this "criminal allegation against a fellow cop". Get Starsky in here. I don't know how you'll do it – but without statements from him – IA are going to walk away once the flurry has worn off. Proof. Think like a cop Hutch. Proof or at least a statement of transgressions that Ryan has made against Starsky. Not just your allegations."

"And what about digging deeper? What about other officers who he may have messed with in the nineteenth or further back? Dobson must have some inkling. For God's Sake! He knows more than he's putting up."

" That's for IA to dig into. Not us. Not you. There's nothing we can do until Starsky either revokes his statement of what happened with the Kalzo job or gives us fresh information on subsequent offensive behavior by Ryan. Either way Hutch – it's all pointless until you get Starsky in here. Also we need to see which way Ryan will jump. Will he deny everything? Will he attempt to distort the allegations by saying that Starsky was consensual? Will he actually go ahead with blowing the lid on your heroin ordeal? Who knows what he'll do?"

Dobey stood up now.

"I'm going to check in with Dobson. The day's drawing on. Go get your partner. It'll probably take you a while. Do whatever you can do to make him see reason. It won't be easy, because as much as I more than anyone can appreciate that you and he know each other like no other – I know him fairly well too. Starsky will not be happy with any of this. He won't like being painted as weak or as a victim of sexual violence. Good luck. Call me when you get to his place – let me know how it's going for you with him."

Hutch stood to leave. It was true. Their captain did know them well. Starsky would rather die than be spurned by the culture that he lived for – to be a strong, good cop in a department where he was accepted and acknowledged as being a strong, good cop.

Simple as that. Take that away from him and he would not be Starsky. But Hutch had made a choice to have Starsky, even though it might be Starsky without his honor and his pride.

Dobey was right. Hutch had made the choice – not Starsky.

There were no black and whites here. He knew Starsky loved black and whites.

There wasn't one play on the chessboard that left a clear win.

You cocksucker Ryan, you have checkmated my every move.

oooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOooo

The warm shower and the cold beer had left him boneless. Fresh clothes, his favourite worn jeans and soft blue shirt added to his sense of quiet calmness and physical comfort. The white softness of the huge bed accepted his weight as he rolled into it and his head sank deep into the oversized pillow. The breeze from the ocean through the open door fresh and alive. Finally some of the alarming tension was draining out of him.

God this was almost therapeutic. Mickey had landed him a spot in a freakin' spa resort...Dirty snitch was finally good for something...

Just to lie there for a little while. That's all he wanted to do – just lie there and not think. The sound of the waves were all that he was prepared to let into his head. Nothing else.

Darkness was falling and he knew it would be smart to drive out soon to look for a meal close by before it got too late. The meal would be purely to give his body some fuel for he felt no hunger. He wondered in fact if he would ever feel real hunger again.

Just a few moments of lying here then he would get dressed and go – get in a few supplies for the next few days as well.

All intentions were quickly lost.

Sleep descended upon him. It overtook him.

It left him unprepared.

oooOOOoooOOOoooOOOooo

"Cap'n. He's not here Cap'n. I just knew it – he's gone."

"Hutchinson? Pull it together! Who? Starsky? Well just find him – he'll be somewhere. Probably down at Huggy's."

"I've been to Huggy's. He hasn't seen him. He's overnight bag is gone. The Torino's gone. There's no message left here. Cap'n I think he's taken off – when I told him I was coming in to you."

Hutch look despairingly about the empty, still apartment.

"I was worried he would do something like this."

The words were spoken more to himself than to the man on the other end of the phone.

"Hutchinson? Hutch?"

"There's nothing you can do about getting Starsky in here now. He's obviously laying low – knew he'd be called in for statements. He'll surface. We'll wait to see what Dobson pulls up with Ryan. You need to go home and get some sleep before you drop. You're supposed to be on again with Riley aren't you?"

No answer.

"Hutchinson? Go home now. Sleep for a few hours. I'll let you know what develops with Ryan. Nothing moves quickly in Internal Affairs as you know. "

"See you later than Cap'n."

Dobey looked at the handpiece suddenly gone quiet.

Why didn't he believe his detective was going to heed even one word of his advice?

He looked at the wall clock. Over an hour since Dobson had agreed to bring Ryan in for questioning. A call from him was overdue by now.

Dobey's substantial girth was beginning to press heavily on his constricted lungs. Either that or he was feeling apprehensive about a situation that had a bad feel to it. The familiar tightening in his chest always plagued him when his bad feelings were in play. This time he knew – the constriction was from apprehension more than that thirty or more extra pounds he was carrying.

Tapping his pencil on the desk, he made a concerted effort to breathe deeply. His phone buzzed and interrupted his breathing patterns. Gruffly, he answered. He gave up completely on his breathing technique when he heard Dobson's grave tone on the other end.

oooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOooo

Dobey's constricted breathing was getting worse. He had called Hutchinson three times in the past twenty minutes and still no answer. Surely he would have reached home by now after leaving Starsky's. He looked down at his small bottle of antacid tablets as he shook another two into his palm. How could he have possibly gone through most of that bottle already?

Gotta stop knockin' this stuff back. Must be the damn rough coffee giving me an ulcer.

He knew it wasn't the coffee just like it wasn't his overweight condition that was causing all of these symptoms of bodily stress.

When his door flung open his head snapped up to look straight into the face of one half of what was causing all of these symptoms.

"Hutchinson! What the hell? I've been trying to get you on your phone at home. Aren't you s'posed to be getting some shut-eye? What are you doing back here again?"

Dobey was stalling and even he could hear the thinly veiled anxiety in his own voice.

"Well – what has happened? Dobson – did he get the IA boys over to the Nineteenth yet? Any news back on how they are managing with Ryan? I know we don't have Starsky's statement yet – but surely they must have acted on what Dobson has briefed them on so far. Christ – tell me they have got someone other than Simmoneti in on this. We need a fresh slate to start on here…..

Dobey's face told him. Told him that a wall had been hit already.

"God! What's the problem? IA refusing to get off their asses to start the procedure?"

"No, IA are taking this very seriously – they have already gotten onto me. Yes there are two new officers involved. But that's not the problem."

"Well? Ryan being a prick? Refusing to say anything until we have Starsky's side of the story on paper? Sick, manipulative bastard…"

"No."

"Well? What the - ?"

Dobey looked down at the bottle with the dwindling supply of tablets. His stomach sorely needed another antacid and now his head was demanding an aspirin.

Might as well get it over with. He looked back up.

The creased forehead with the deep cleft between a pair of tired and worried blue eyes were waiting for him.

"Seems Ryan Lancaster is no where to be found. Left his desk hours ago – didn't sign out or leave any radio contact. Hasn't reported back. Dobson has no knowledge of his whereabouts…..

Don't look at me like that Hutchinson! You think I like this situation? Damn mess that's what all of this is – a damn mess! Hutchinson! Get back here – where are you going?"

He pushed out from behind his desk and took off after his detective as he turned on his heel and slammed out into the squad room.

"Hutchinson I said wait and that is an order!"

All eyes in the room watched the pair.

Hutch turned slowly, his hand on the squad room door, fury on his face. He didn't speak to his captain but swept his glacial eyes over the pairs of interesting watching ones.

"What the fuck are you all looking at?" he spat.

"Come back in here Hutch – we need to talk."

"As you have reminded me Captain – I am officially off duty. But if you need me I'll be over the Nineteenth Precinct."

Dobey walked over to him and all but pushed them both out of the doors into the hallway. He turned quickly and barked at the audience of officers.

"Hutchinson's right. What're you all looking at? Get back to work all of you."

Hutch stood to the side leaning on the wall – his body sagging.

"What the hell do you think you're going to achieve going over to Dobson's station now?"

"Going to rattle the cages and see if anyone knows anything – anything at all about what this asshole's moves might be. Someone must know something –must know him – could give me some sort of lead."

"Dobson was clear. No-one has any idea of where he is or why he's AWOL."

"I only need to know the where , you know we already know the why."

"I know it looks bad son…"

Hutch gave a dispirited laugh.

Dobey was pulling out the "Son" . Shit he must be nearly as worried as me.

"Hey yeah. It looks bad – real bad. But how do you think it feels Cap'n? Ironic isn't it? Here I am – fucking running around trying to peg Ryan to keep him away from Starsk…."

He faltered, shook his head.

"And that ….that…animal …is doing exactly what I've been trying to stop him from doing this whole time I've been busy taking on the fucking 'bureaucratic, legal' channels to stop him. Starsk is missing, Ryan's missing. It's pretty damn obvious – he knew what was happening here with Dobson. He's one step ahead all the time. Why did I bother with all of this stupid useless crap?"

He looked down and saw his hands rubbing roughly on his forearms - something he'd managed to limit himself from doing in the past weeks. With self reproach he tore his hands away and grabbed his right fist tightly in his left palm.

"I should've just gone straight to his desk and cuffed the motherfucker myself."

Dobey watched his anguish and rubbed tiredly at his own stiff neck.

"We have two missing officers, from two different precincts. Just because they are known to each other doesn't mean the two situations are related."

He was trying to rationalize but it held little water even for him let alone for Hutchinson.

"You don't want me to go to Ryan's precinct? Then only one course of action we can take – I want APB's out on both of them. Has Dobson got the details on what vehicle Ryan had out? Police issue or private?"

"There isn't enough to warrant an APB on Starsky and you know it."

"Fuck it then! Not that I thought you'd stand on procedure right now Captain. "

He heard himself use Dobey's non contracted title –it happened whenever he was angry with him. He was aware of the habit and didn't try to quell it. He wanted Dobey to know how damn angry he was with the whole Department and as a figure head his Captain was in the direct firing line.

"Then surely there is already one out on Ryan. Afterall he is supposed to be detained for questioning over an 'alleged' assault and attempted murder of a fellow police officer."

"Then come back into the office with me now and we'll follow all of this up. I know if you go on a rampage at the nineteenth there will be all sorts of grief for you. We have to handle this carefully and quietly. Isn't that what you want for Starsky?"

Hutch slumped.

"Of course it is – but right now – I'm just more concerned that Ryan is looking for Starsky – or –Starsky is looking for Ryan. I just need to know Starsk is ok."

"Go home Hutch. Go home and get some sleep. You can't think when you're dead on your feet. Starsky might ring you at home. I'll check out the APB and put it in place with Dobson if he hasn't already done it. Do you want me to cancel you out for tonight's shift?"

He was defeated. What else could he do? Where else could he go? Starsky didn't want to be found and he had no intention of contacting him while he still felt the way he did. He had no evidence whatsoever that he was in danger, even if he felt the fear clawing him from the inside out. Perceptions weren't something that was likely to justify a need for the Department to arrange for an APB to be put out on his partner.

In the end there was little else to do except wait on news from the Nineteenth Precinct about Ryan and for his own captain to facilitate the APB via Dobson. He couldn't scour the streets looking for the red Torino, nor contact every person that he and Starsky knew in the hope that he was holed up in some ex girlfriend's place. Starsky had gone underground – for now – for however long he thought he needed to stay there.

The best chance of contact with him was via a phone call – so in the end he caved. So exhausted was he that he had conceded that no amount of leg work at the moment, was going to yield anything.

"I'll be at home until my shift starts. Call me with anything…anything at all. "

oooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOooo

Crashing waves disguised any sound that his careful footfall might make as he climbed over the balcony's edge. It hadn't been hard to climb up the firm structure of the large balcony facing the ocean. Dark for a while now there was still enough moonlight to make his ascent easy. He'd been soundlessly casing the perimeter of the big house for the last ten minutes and was surprised that Starsky could be so stupid as to leave the bedroom door wide open. Closer to the door now he put his back against the wall and edged along closer to the darkened opening of the door.

With his body pressed flush to the door he listened. Nothing. No noises, no lights.

Where was he? Was he in the outer living areas? The house had been in near darkness when he had done his cruise around it minutes before and there was no sign of life anywhere in the living areas.

He must be in bed. Asleep?

He twisted his head and moved to angle himself to get an interior view of the room. His right hand felt for his gun at his side. He would draw on Starsky and take him by surprise if necessary. The element of surprise would give him the upper hand if it came down to gunfire.

His eyes adjusted to the murky darkness of the inner large bedroom.

He smiled. The hand that had been on ready for his weapon relaxed. Looks like he wouldn't be needing to draw his weapon.

In the semi dark with just enough filtered moonlight picking out features in the room – a tousled dark head was visible. The even rhythmical sound of breathing denoted a sleeping body.

Not just let his guard down, totally and utterly vulnerable. Lost all your cop instincts Starsk? Or – just hoping for me to come along and find you like this?

Daring, more daring now and also excited, Ryan slunk further into the room. So close to his him now - he was so close and so unaware of him standing over him. Watching him.

Laid out before him, waiting for him, his muscular body moulded into the soft mattress, was Starsky. His prize.

Joy, lust and violence were brimming over in him and his breath choked as he strained to hold the ferocity of the emotions back, to hold them inside until he could prepared himself for his ultimate experience.

If anyone had been there to see his eyes, the full gamut of this man's mental state would have been reflected in their dark depths.

Those dark eyes were full of madness.