Feedback: Always welcome, but remember to do unto others as you would like them to do unto you…This is a learning and growing process, no one here claims to be perfect, or a professional, so don't treat us like one…
Disclaimer: I do not own Starsky and Hutch ('cause if I did, I would find better things for them to do.)
Author's Notes: This one is a trio of collaboration, between me and two other extremely amazing people! They are very close to me, (not to mention extremely talented!), and I hope they are close to all of you too… (And the crowd goes wild as the scene begins…)
Head Games
Chapter Eleven
After about 30 minutes the door to the room opened, Starsky was dripping with sweat, exhausted from his futile attempts to keep Sasha alive. He sat next to her lifeless form as Jericho and Jenkins, who he hadn't seen since his arrival, entered the room. The smirk on Jenkins face sickened the brunet as Jericho seemed a bit more subdued.
"You done makin' out with her detective?" Jenkins quipped as Starsky felt the bile threatening to rise in the back of his throat.
"How could you guys do nuthin' to try an' help her? You didn't even try." Starsky said solemnly as he sat there, his shoulders slumped forward as he felt dejected.
Jericho knelt beside her, taking both of her arms and gently crossing them across her chest respectively. "Just exactly what did you want us to do? Call your local police station and report the OD when this house is full of illegal weapons and activity? She knew that we could do anything. It's her own damn fault." Jericho spoke as if he was trying to convince himself not to feel sorry for her.
"That's right, worse part is, Mr. Sanders is going to have to find someone as 'talented' as she was to take her place satisfying all of his clients, and that won't be easy." Jenkins laughed. "It requires hours and hours of interviewing and training…poor guy, I bet it'll take a lot outta him!" Jenkins burst out laughing at his own joke as Jericho couldn't find a smile to save his life.
Starsky fumed in disgust at these two uncaring and callous men as they were preparing to take Sasha's body out of the room. He lunged at Jenkins as he immediately felt the skin along his side rip open, the sensation of each stitch being pulled out, one by one. He yelled out as he flew through the air, part in anger and part in pain as he hit Jenkins around the chest, toppling both men to the ground. He reached back with his right arm, letting it snap forward sharply connecting with the man's left cheek bone, the feeling bringing a sense of momentary satisfaction to him.
Jericho was on Starsky before he could deliver a second punch, pulling him back, off of Jenkins and throwing him onto his backside against the ground. With lightening like speed, Jenkins recovered, got up, and walked over to Starsky, who stared up at the man defiantly. He pulled back his leg and delivered a brutal kick to Starsky's side, finding his mark, the already fragile injury he had received from an earlier gun shot.
Ugh! Starsky gasped as he curled up into a ball, instinctively trying to protect his side, feeling the warm sticky blood as it seeped through his fingers.
Jericho looked down at him, furrowing his brow. "You had better learn to get a spine…Sanders doesn't like fighting amongst his men, and that is one thing he just won't tolerate! So if I were you I'd watch how I act around this place!" He spat as he and Jenkins returned to the task at hand, removing Sasha's body from the room.
oooOOOooo
Hutch walked into Dobey's office without even giving him the courtesy of knocking. Fortunately, Dobey was out. He searched inside the room and then in the squad room, not finding him anywhere.
"Where's Dobey?" He asked Stiglitz who was sitting nearest to the door.
"Went to lunch about 15 minutes ago." he responded as Hutch let out a huge sigh of disgust.
Hutch stormed out of the squad room, heading straight to the locker room to change into some clean clothes. He and Starsky always kept a spare change of clothes in their lockers, and God knew they needed them, more often then not.
His hand was stitched and bandaged tightly, his head still swimming from the mild pain relievers they had given them at the hospital. As he passed through the doors to the room, he heard elevated voices, seemingly in a heated discussion. He distinctly recognized Lyons voice as one of them and automatically assumed the second to be Novak's.
"What the hell are you trying to pull here?" Lyons voice was pointed and filled with anger.
"You have no idea what the hell you're talking about, you should really try to mind your own business." Novak responded and Hutch could make out the slight hint of nervousness.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about!"
"One of these days, your big nose is going to get you into trouble…" Novak warned.
"Is that a threat?" Lyons asked, moving one step closer to his partner.
"Take it how you will…" Novak spewed as he attempted to walk past Lyons just to find himself being grabbed and shoved into a locker.
"You listen and you listen good! I know what I heard, I know that you ratted out Starsky and I'm not going to stand here and let you get away with it!" Lyons growled his face as close to Novak's as possible.
"Since when have you been such a fan of Jews?" Novak hissed as Hutch rushed up behind Lyons, his eyes wide with rage.
"You ratted Starsky out?" Hutch shouted as he took Novak by the collar away from Lyons. "You son of a bitch! How could you do something like that? Do you have any idea what you've done?"
"You can believe what ever the hell you want, I'm getting out of here!" Novak shouted as he jerked away from the tall blond.
"Novak, if I were you, I'd stick around until Dobey gets back, I think you may have some explaining to do." Hutch shouted after the detective as he left the locker room.
"Fuck off Hutchinson!" Novak replied before disappearing through the doors. "You always were a pansy!" And before Hutch could stop him, he was gone.
The tall blond looked at Lyons, "Just what exactly did you overhear?"
"I'm not exactly sure, but he was talkin' to someone, said that Starsky was workin' both sides of the fence and that they had better keep an eye on him…I'm pretty sure he was talking to Sanders."
"You really think your partner would stoop that low? I mean you really think that he would turn Starsky over to the bad guys like that?" Hutch asked in disbelief.
"You know him, you tell me. You think he'd roll on your partner? After all, he's already shot him…" Lyons asked.
"He what?" Hutch exclaimed, his eyes wrought with worry, remember the grazing bullet wound on his partner's side. "Novak did that?"
"Yeah, he woulda killed him if I hadn't stopped him." Lyons finished as Hutch's face flushed in anger.
Hutch thought momentarily as he recalled how much anger Novak held for Starsky, how racist and evil the junior detective was.
"Yeah, I do think he'd roll on Starsky, in a heartbeat…we gotta find Dobey, now! Come on, let's go!" Hutch stated with pure determination as he ran off, Lyons right on his heels.
oooOOOooo
Starsky lay there, holding his side as he stared up at the ceiling. He felt his warm blood seeping into his palm as he winced in pain. The door opened slowly as Sanders entered, looking down at the injured man.
"You should always rise when I walk into a room Mr. Starsky." He said.
Starsky huffed and struggled to sit up, still holding his left side as the blood flowed freer. "She's dead, Sasha's dead." Starsky grunted as he looked up at Sanders, expecting some type of reaction.
"I know, I was just interviewing replacements for her. It is going to take a while to train her, but I am sure she'll get it right." Sanders chuckled as Starsky fought the urge to throw up at the crime lord's feet. "You have no idea how long it took me, helping her perfect her technique."
"You're sick, you know that?" Starsky hissed as he looked down at his blood soaked hand.
"We really need to get Doc to look at that for you." Sanders stated as he picked up the phone and dialed three numbers. "Have Doc meet me in the sick room, I have a patient for him." He spoke slowly into the phone and then hung up, looking back at Starsky. "Can you stand on your own or should I bring Jenkins back in to help you?"
"I got it." Starsky retorted as he pushed himself off the ground, slowly getting to his feet.
"Lets go, we can talk on our way to see Doc." Sanders said as they headed down the hallway.
"Doc? You mean to tell me that you had a doctor right here on the grounds, an' you didn't do shit to help Hutch or Sasha?" Starsky asked, his anger rising.
"He isn't a real Doc, we just nicknamed him that. He is the one that takes care of our minor stuff, a few stitches here or there, he nurses us when we are sick, wraps our sprained ankles, that sort of stuff. Trust me, he doesn't have a degree, if that what's you're thinking. Besides, I was getting a little tired of Sasha and I was looking for some new blood anyway. I think you'll be happy with her replacement." Sanders concluded.
"Well if he ain't a real doc, then I don't 'really' need to see him." Starsky protested.
"I beg to differ, Mr. Starsky, I feel you are in need of attention and from the looks of things," he lifted Starsky's shirt with one finger before the brunet pulled away as they continued to walk down the hall, "
"Well that's okay, I'll take my chances." Starsky said as he placed his hand back over his wound.
"Not if you work for me, see I am a firm believer in the pecking order here, and until further notice, you take orders from me…" Sanders said leaving no room for discussion.
They continued down the corridor and entered the last door on the right, Sanders holding it up for Starsky as the brunet entered cautiously.
An older man stood on the far side of the room; he looked over his shoulder at the duo. "Whadya you do now Sanders?" He asked as he turned to see his new visitor.
"It's nothing I did, I assure you. One do his cop buddies did this." Sanders responded as he pointed to the brunet's side.
"Take off your shirt and sit down over there." The man ordered as Starsky looked to Sanders nervously.
"Don't look at me, do as he says." Sanders shrugged him off as he left the room, closing the door behind him.
Starsky sat on the make shift exam table as he gingerly shucked off his shirt. The man in the room approached him, examining his room more closely.
"So they call you Doc?" Starsky tried to make small talk just to be ignored but the short dark haired man.
"You're gonna need stitches," he said matter of factly. He then headed towards his medicine cabinet and retrieved his supplies, bringing them back to the table.
He pulled out a suture needle with the 3.0 silk stitches already attached to it, holding it up to the light. Starsky's eyes grew wide as Doc leaned into him.
"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute here…what about some anesthetic?" Starsky asked nervously.
"Are you kidding me? Sanders men don't get numb for a few stitches." Doc informed Starsky as the brunet stared at him.
The man's fingers gently brushed across Starskys cut abdomen, checking where the previous stitches had been placed and marking his route. Starsky inhaled sharply as he felt the cold sharp sting of the needle as it pierced his raw flesh, he could feel the thread being pulled taught through his skin, pulling it with each tug. Once the suture was all the way through, he again felt the sharpness of the needle on the opposite side of his wound.
"Shit!" Starsky exhaled through his breath as he felt every centimeter of the cold steel, followed by the porous thread being tugged along. "You sure you know what you're doing?" Starsky asked, regretting those words as the Doc tied off the knot tightly.
"Damn it. Was that really necessary?" Starsky asked as he tried to prepare himself for the next suture.
"Anyone everyone tell you, you talk way too much?" Doc asked as, without warning, he stuck the brunet again, pulling the needle and thread through quickly, nearly tearing the skin. "You're making me nervous."
"No, don't go gettin' nervous on me; you need steady hands there, Doc." Starsky tried to encourage him.
"Then try keeping your mouth shut." He ordered as Starsky inhaled again through his teeth, squeezing his eyes together tightly as the Doc pierced the detective's skin again harshly.
Starsky concentrated hard on just getting through his medical treatment, praying that whatever this man was doing wouldn't leave any permanent damage. He knew he had to try and fit in, try and do what the expected him to, try to gain their trust. Once the doctor was finished, he cleaned the area ad put a new bandage on it, warning Starsky against any further damage to that particular area. He picked up his phone, dialed three numbers and informed the person on the other end that the subject was ready for pick up.
Before long, the door opened and Sanders reappeared, a new, eerie smile crossing his face. He literally swaggered into the room and right up to the brunet.
"I have a surprise for you Mr. Starsky." He explained as one hand swept in a backwards motion towards the door. "I've decided to get you help for your next assignment."
Starsky looked up at the door as it opened, his face lighting up, hoping for a slight moment that Hutch would walk through. His heart nearly seized up as Novak crossed through the threshold, a smug grin spread over his entire face. Starsky's shoulders slumped in disappointment as a new fear entered his soul.
"I think you know each other." Sanders finished, a definite hint of superiority and satisfaction resonated in his voice.
"Novak, what the hell?" Starsky mumbled.
"Miss me Detective?" Novak hissed as he walked over and sucker punched Starsky, knocking him off the table.
To Be Continued…