This story was Eli's idea. Its her fault - she started it! But then she gave it to me. All credit should go to her - I merely put words to the idea.

This story is a thank you to the ladies out there who so generously give their ideas to writers, encourage, cajole and drive us, but fequently get forgotten in the credits. So to Eli, Brook, Jan and Angie - step up and take a bow!

Disclaimer: I don't own the guys unfortunately - but I always like to damage them a bit.

Feedback: As always is craved, desired and cherished. Be kind, but not too kind and remember - its only a hobby!

Chapter 11

Erin gasped in shock and huddled closer to the bodies of the two men as Sanchez approached slowly and carefully, the gun still in his hand. He looked wilder now, the smuts from the fire having landed on his face and his clothing, making both grimy and grey. His eyes stared around him, wide and unnaturally bright and his hair, which covered only two thirds of his head stood out in disarray.

Hutch stiffened and put his body between those of the girl and his friend, but Starsky pushed himself back from the gate and stood shoulder to painful shoulder with the blond as Erin crouched behind them, making herself as small as possible.

'Come back for round two?' the brunette said. He was aiming for "cocky", but only managed "choked" as the words stuck in his fire-scorched throat.

'I've come back to finish you' Sanchez said, giggling hysterically. The gun wafted between the two targets, one blond and the other brunette. Both were hurting and bent by their pains, but both had somehow found a level of understanding through this ordeal, and instinctively knew they could trust the other.

Hutch had never had a friend like this David Starsky guy. He was an enigma and multifaceted. On the surface, he was slightly brash, definitely fun loving and most of all an inveterate womaniser. Hutch had been amazed at him in the nightclub as he'd gyrated around the floor, dancing next to any and every girl there. He probably wasn't the best looking guy in the joint, but he was absolutely the most charismatic. His clothes were slightly worn and he wore them with a casual indifference, but his eyes – the deepest blue eyes Hutch had ever seen – shone from a rugged face, inviting conversation and social engagement.

But underneath that brash exterior, Hutch had discovered a deeply caring, brave and slightly damaged individual. It touched the blond to the core to see how the brunette had knelt next to the injured woman when they'd first found her in the park, taking off his jacket to cover her dignity. And the flashback Starsky had experienced in the shed had shaken Hutch to the centre of his being. What sort of experience could cause that sort of reaction in an otherwise tough and streetwise man? He hated to think, but he set himself the challenge of some day finding out, in the hopes that he could help the hurting brunette some way. The one thing he knew for sure was that in a crisis, he'd choose Starsky to watch his back over a troop of marines.

They watched Sanchez approach and each man felt the other stiffen, ready for anything. Although Starsky's arms remained chained, he still had his feet and Hutch had already had an example of just how effective they could be, back in their wooden prison. But he also knew the extent of their injuries and he worried that in this case, the madman might just get the better of them.

'You won't win Guy' Hutch said levelly when the man was almost close enough to touch them. 'Whatever happens, you'll never win. You tried to kill us in that fire, but we escaped. We'll stop you again. You know that'. He tried to keep the level of confidence in his voice up, but couldn't help the slight quaver as his body reacted to the exhaustion and the pain.

'You don't deserve to live. None of you deserve to live' Sanchez ground out as he stood in predator like calm, waiting for one of his prey to make a move.

Starsky locked his eyes onto Sanchez's mad face and stared the wild man down. 'At least let the girl go. She can't harm ya. Let her go an' you can do what you want with us'.

Guy leered at him. 'I aim to do what I want with all three of you. From his back, he produced three red roses and waved them in front of himself. 'Look. I have one for each of you. One to put on each of your dead bodies when I've finished with you. Just like the others. You're going to plead for me to kill you before I've finished with you'.

'Don't you believe it'. The anger rang out in the brunette's voice as he cajoled the burned, scarred attacker. An idea was beginning to form in his mind and he hoped that Hutch was as much on the brunette's wavelength as he thought he was. He needed to get the Sanchez mad and off balance.

On their first day at the Academy, they had all been in the classroom, taking their first lesson in 'Talk and Action – the art of negotiation'. The instructor had told them that in most conditions, the ability to read the body language of not only the perp. but more importantly their partner could mean the difference between having to shoot to kill, or being able to talk their way out of having using lethal force. Starsky had found the idea to be nothing new. In the Army he had been almost conditioned into watching the backs of every member of his platoon and later in his small team. It was second nature to understand when someone my be tired, or hurt or anxious as all those things affected not only the individual, but the group and there was a well developed set of hand signals and abbreviations used when covert conversations needed to be made.

The Academy instructor, Sgt. Trevillion had told them that a good police partnership would be able to read each others intentions with practice and that great teams developed an almost sixth sense; a kind of e.s.p. for reading the other's thoughts. He'd given them an example of a partnership where the officers had been in a difficult situation, but through their mutual understanding had managed to get out in one piece. Starsky knew they weren't partners and that they'd only been at the Academy three days, but he hoped he'd be able to communicate on a subtle level enough to let Hutch know what he was doing, and that he was going to follow that scenario.

'You're just like a guy I know. Names Trevillion' Starsky said, almost imperceptibly nudging Hutch. The blond stiffened and his senses went on high alert. OK, what was the curly guy gonna do now?

'Ya remember Hutch – Trevillion. All talk and no action. Just like you Sanchez'

Hutch's mind went into overload, as he remembered the name and the talk they'd had. Was that it? Was Starsky going to follow the scenario in the talk?

He snorted in agreement. 'Oh my God, that idiot! Does everything by numbers? Never had an original thought in his head. Just followed what others have done'.

'That's about the size of it. Just like this fucking idiot in front of us' Starsky agreed, thankful that the blond had got the message. He stood a little closer to the big Nordic body and pushed some links of the trailing chain at Hutch's hands. He felt the blond take the chain, linking the two of them together.

Sanchez didn't see the slight movement but he was getting more agitated by the moment, licking his dry lips and moving his weight from one foot to the other. In his mind he could see the three bodies on the ground, as he stood over them victorious. Three less beautiful people in the world, they deserved it. They all deserved it and he relished the thoughts of their death screams floating away on the early morning air.

'Shut up' he yelled at the two men. He wanted screams and yells rather than conversation. He couldn't get off on conversation. He waved his gun threateningly. 'Shut the fuck up' he yelled again, as if to bolster his own confidence.

'ONE thing about Trevillion. He was a bloody coward' Hutch said clearly, ducking as Sanchez's fist aimed at his face. In his madness, Guy missed his target and his hand glanced off Hutch's cheek to punch out at thin air. He wailed in anger.

'Are you calling me a coward? I'll show you whose a coward' he yelled dancing back so that he could see both men.

'There are TWO other things about him that you need to know' Starsky joined in the count as he felt Hutch brace himself next to him.

'Yeah', Hutch agreed. 'He had this thing for girls. Liked THREE….'

Both men surged forward, forgetting their injuries.

As Hutch went left holding the end of the chain in his hands, Starsky ducked right, the other end still fastened around his wrists. The swift action bound Sanchez's arms against his sides as the chain wrapped around him, Starsky ducking under Hutch's arm and back around to the front of the struggling ex-model as Hutch joined him. Before Sanchez could prize his arms free from the chain, Hutch pushed at him with all his strength, toppling the bound man sideways so that he hit the ground with a grunt, the air being knocked out of his lungs and in a flash, Hutch did the only thing he could do to keep him down.

As Sanchez struggled on the ground, the big blond sat on top of him, his weight anchoring the man down. Starsky, whose wrists were still attached by the chain to the now captive man sat at the side of them, gasping at the new pains in his shoulders and wrists.

The exertion set both men to coughing again and soon their eyes were tearing with the effort, but Sanchez was going no-where and they needed only to remain where they were.

Erin looked from one exhausted guy to the other. Both their faces were grey masks of exhaustion as they sat by the side of their prisoner, gasping and panting. They'd saved her for a third time and now there would be no more red rose deaths. She looked up at the gates wondering if she could possibly climb over them to get help. She felt so useless just sitting there when both Hutch and Starsky so obviously needed medical treatment, but the gate was too high and reluctantly she slumped against the base and waited.

Sanchez's screams had turned to cries and whimpers as the madness finally left him. He pleaded now for his life.

'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never meant to do it. The voices! There were voices in my head telling me I had to. You don't understand. Let me up and I'll give myself in, I promise. I need help. Please you have to believe me, I never meant to do it'.

Starsky looked at the man next to him. He'd kept them chained, he'd beaten them, tried to set fire to them and threatened their lives, and yet he still couldn't bring himself to hate Sanchez. He was angry, certainly, but there was no malice in his heart. He admitted to himself that Guy really did need help, but probably in Cabrillo or similar; a facility for the criminally insane. He couldn't find it in him to hurt Sanchez, but he'd hardened his heart to the pleas.

Tiredly he looked down at the still struggling body on the ground and snorted.

'Go tell it to the Judge!' as he collapsed against Erin, the pains and the fatigue of the night finally taking its toll.