Thanks to the usual suspects
Chapter 11
"I guess now we know why that store clerk thought we were joking," Jack remarked dryly.
Once they had changed into a couple of jeans and black shirts, the storeowner had laughingly obliged them with the info they wanted. They were bound to find what they were looking for at the Sheridan hotel.
Evening had fallen and both SG-1 members were standing in front of a bulletin board inside Sheridan's main hall. Jack looked up, eyeing his friend who read the announcement out loud with his hands buried in his pants' pockets. The board occupied a quiet corner next to the elevators.
"The Starsky and Hutch look-a-like contest, Saturday 7-9 P.M., Lincoln hall."
"That's tonight." Jack concluded.
Daniel pursed his lips mockingly. "That means lots of guys fitting their description, Jack."
"I know."
"Lots and lots," his archaeologist kept pointing out.
"Daniel-"
His friend interrupted him. "So, what do we do? Pick 'em all up?"
Jack smirked and walked away. At least the chances of finding them had increased significantly.
Behind him, Daniel asked surprised, "Where are you going?"
Jack pivoted on his heels. "Oh, just checking out the check in. You comin'?"
The water felt cool to his skin as Starsky splashed luscious amounts of it on his face. The liquid woke him up, made him feel whole again. He turned to lean against the marble basin, wiping his face with a soft beige towel. His eyes fell on the printed word 'Sheridan' embroidered in one corner of the cloth. He shook his head in incomprehension. This bathroom was twice as large as his back home. Its main feature was a tremendous whirlpool and a shower cabinet with multiple showerheads.
It wasn't like him to despair. Optimistic as he usually was, he always managed to find solutions when need be, and when answers weren't readily available, he found it best to simply go with the flow. Only this time the flow was murky. The racing rapids ran as if heading toward a waterfall. He was tossed around in the stream; the current doing its best to pull him and his partner under. Gaining some sort of control, meant he should go and do some investigating, but that also meant leaving Hutch behind. A bad idea, or so his gut feeling kept telling him.
A bout of dizziness caught him off guard. Staggering, Starsky covered his face with his hands when a sense of vertigo hit him. Nausea rose like it had back in the bus. Back then, he'd thought it was caused by fear. What if I'm having whatever ailment Hutch is having?
Nah, it can't be. I'm not the one who got bitten. Besides, he didn't feel feverish. In an attempt to pull himself together, he squeezed his eyes shut.
Leaning against the basin, Starsky waited for the nausea to leave his system.
His dreams were a blur of nightmarish images of fire, of gaping holes and monstrous fangs. Someone tugged at his heartstrings and gradually Hutch regained consciousness. "Starsky?' He croaked in a voice barely more than a whisper.
"Yeah, I'm here." The soothing answer came from somewhere close by.
After a few blinks, Hutch opened his eyes. A wet cloth touched his forehead. He wiped it away, focussing on his partner sitting on the bedside.
Starsky gave a faint smile. "Hey."
"Hey," he answered in reflex, his mind clearing.
Putting the cloth down, his friend spoke worriedly, "How are you feeling?"
Pondering the question, Hutch's attention drew inward for a moment. "Better, I think." He did feel pretty well. Energized and not nearly as sick anymore. "How long was I out?" He sat up with a grunt.
"A couple of hours. It's early in the evening."
Hutch looked around the luxurious suite. There were two large beds, one of which he occupied. To his left was an aged wooden desk next to two large French doors leading onto a small balcony. On his right side, apart from Starsky's bed, a large closet occupied most of the space. A comfortable couch and a small coffee table completed the interior. It wasn't unlike any other hotel room he'd ever been in except for the small screen and keyboard located on a smaller desk next to the bathroom door in front of him. "I'd hoped it was all a bad dream."
"Yeah, I know the feelin'. The good news is that your fever broke." Starsky jumped off the bed and headed for a cart near the foot of his bed. "Feel like eatin' something?" His partner removed a couple of silver colored lids from a tray on top of the cart. To Hutch's surprise the tray contained an assortment of food.
"Starving." He smiled, sitting up straighter.
Rolling the cart near Hutch, Starsky nudged, "Go ahead, knock yourself out. I've already had some." There were fruit, pastries, assorted vegetables and potatoes, and even three different fruit juices to choose from.
Although Hutch wasn't up to eating much, he decided to put on a good show for his partner. The relief oozing from Starsky when he actually ate something was worth the extra effort. Now if only he could keep the grub inside his stomach for a while.
Valiantly he loaded some applesauce and mash potatoes on a white dinner plate carrying the Sheridan's symbol along its rim. Settling in to eat, Hutch suddenly noticed that Starsky, who had sat down on his own bed, stared quietly at him. Their gazes met briefly. It was enough for Hutch to know Starsky felt lousy, perhaps even sick. His partner looked pale, or was that his imagination? "What's the matter?" He asked casually.
His friend sounded deceptively calm, "I need to go out Hutch. Find some answers."
Worried that his partner's purposefully misinterpreted the question, Hutch decided to play along. He took a bite of a luscious red apple before stating in a muffled voice, "If you wanna go, go."
"You sure you don't mind stayin' here on your own?"
Yeah. Yeah he did. It scared the crap out of him. The luxurious suite was nothing more than a golden cage in which he felt trapped and barely able to breathe. Although the fever and nausea were gone, the shivers were still there as were the dizzy spells.
However, studying his partner's eyes, Hutch could tell Starsky desperately needed to do something in order to keep his sanity. It certainly would make his friend feel better. So, he said, "It's not too bad here. I got me a nice room, good food. I'll manage for a while. Go." Making a shooing motion, he added." Find some damn answers."
Taking a deep breath, his friend jumped off the bed. "Are ya sure you're all right?"
"Starsky."
His friend smiled weakly, probably uncertain whether or not he was doing the right thing by leaving for a few hours. "Okay. Just… keep the door locked."
"Yes, mum."
Ignoring the pun, his partner grabbed his jacket, walked to the door and opened it. He turned. "Hutch… when I get back…"
Hutch bit his lip, watching him. For a few seconds they just stared at each other. A strange feeling choked him. One of being left behind, of fear, of foreboding, but he squashed it. And he knew Starsky did the same. "When you get back, we'll go home," he finished.
Starsky nodded and closed the door behind him.
Standing behind the check in counter Julia looked at Jack as if he'd lost his mind.
Daniel couldn't blame her.
Jack tried again, "Has anyone registered who you'd think looked the most like them? One blond, one curly?" A thought seemed to enter his mind. "One might be limping." At the receptionist's blank expression he added, "Look, if they're smart, they wouldn't register as Starsky and Hutch, they would use undercover names on the register form. How about Rafferty and O'Brien or… Night and Day? No? Hack and Zack?"
Daniel shook his head in bemusement at Jack's familiarity with the show. He must have loved it to remember these names so well.
The smile surfacing on Julia's pretty face was one of suppressed irritation more than it was politeness. "I'm not at liberty to divulge such information, sir."
"Oh for cryin' out loud. Daniel, give her your ID."
Diplomacy had never been Jack's strong point and right now his friend was in dire need of saving. Daniel gave him a stern look, upon which the Colonel took a step back, and then pulled his airforce ID from his wallet.
Having given the thing a thorough check, Julia looked up. Ignoring Jack completely she inquired, "What can I do for you, Doctor Jackson?"
He pointed at a book placed on the counter and asked innocently, "Can I have a look at your register, please?"
"Well, certainly, Doctor." She slid the red book under his nose. When Jack moved in for a closer look, she glared at him and then moved off to assist a businessman waiting in line.
Daniel pretended not to notice and focused on the small writing in the book. "Jack, only two guests registered today," he pointed out. "A mister Night… and Day." He looked up incredulously.
"That's them," Jack stated. "What room?"
"302"
"You've got five minutes, Daniel." Jack flashed five fingers into his linguist's face. In the past he would have barged into that room to find out by brute force whether either Starsky or Hutch was a Goa'uld; he had the authority and the capacity to do so. In the past he hadn't cared too much about the overall picture, only about accomplishing goals and getting his team out alive. Of course, that was back before he met Daniel. "Five, to try and talk to them. After that I'm taking them in."
Making sure his Beretta was within easy reach, Jack lifted a hand to knock on the white door with the gold plated '302' nailed on it.
His archaeologist had just given him an affirmative nod when the door suddenly opened.
"Hutch… when I get back…"That voice! He recognised it from television. It was Starsky's.
Coming from inside the room, someone finished Starsky's sentence. It sounded like Hutch. These are the right guys, all right. Not wanting to get caught in the hallway, Jack pushed Daniel to the far end of the corridor whispering urgently, "Go. Go."
They rounded a corner and Jack chanced a peek back. Starsky left the room and headed for the elevator. "They're splitting up." Great… now what?
Answering Jack's unspoken question, Daniel spoke softly, "Stay with him. I'll try talking to the other one."
Jack snapped his head back at his linguist. "And leave you here with a possible Goa'uld? Think again."
"Jack, we need to talk to them anyway. You know that. Nothing will happen. At the first sign of trouble I'll bail out."
There was a short silence. Jack knew his friend. Daniel was headstrong and would go on trying to save the blond even if Hutch was taken as a host.
"You're gonna lose the brunet." Daniel pointed out.
The only reason he was about to agree was because over the years he'd learned to trust in his friend's diplomatic abilities. "All right, all right." Jack pressed the Beretta into Daniel's hand and reluctantly walked off.
"I don't need…"
Waiting at the elevator, Jack commanded, "At the first sign, Daniel!"
The nod he got in return did nothing to relieve his worries. Reluctantly, Jack stepped inside the elevator.
"Good luck." Daniel spoke aloud.
"Yeah…" Jack retorted worriedly. Then the elevator doors closed. As the cart moved down he finished softly, "You too."
Tbc
