Chapter 14

David Starsky had never felt as alone as he did do at that moment. Dobey was his Captain, but he was also a good friend. He and Hutch were Godfathers to Rosey, they were invited to Thanksgiving dinner and they took part in the Dobey family celebrations. Over dinners in the past, Edith had spoken to him and Hutch about just what it was like to be a cop's wife, always worrying when her husband was late home and never relaxing until he was safe through the door. Edith had said that she'd never been as relieved as when he'd made Captain and was out of the direct firing line, literally speaking. Elmo's death had been hard on her too and now that Harold was more often than not office based, she felt a measure of comfort. Right now, Starsky could only imagine what the poor woman was going through and longed to be there to comfort her, Cal and Rosey.

Along with the compassion for his friend and Captain, the brunet felt a slow brewing anger welling up inside him. The Cougars in general and Salvador Milano in particular were going to pay for what they'd done to those Starsky cared so much about. While Dobey was in the best place and being cared for by the medical professionals, Starsky worried about how he was going to deal with his partner. Hutch's head was screwed and try as he might, the only treatment Starsky could come up with was friendship, compassion and patience. Surely the bond they shared was strong enough to withstand even this? It must give Hutch something to work for – some milestone for which to aim. He crossed the small living room and looked into the bedroom.

Hutch had hardly moved since he'd left and now, with a sense of relief, Starsky took his key and unlocked the cuffs from around the big blond's wrists, stowing the metal bracelets into his back pocket and rubbing some life back into his buddy's arms. Next, he poured a bowl of warm water and added some of the antiseptic liquid Huggy had managed to buy. He sat on the edge of the bed, dipped a wodge of cotton wool into the warm water and dabbed at the crusting of dried blood on Hutch's forehead.

Once the blood had been cleaned away from the wound, Starsky could see that it was indeed only a graze and thanked his lucky stars that the stray bullet had done no more damage. The wound was perhaps an inch long and not particularly deep, but there was already bruising around the area and the blond's eye was also bruising and swelling a little. As Starsky dried the area and started to cut the gauze into shape, Hutch moaned softly and his eyes flickered open. For long moments, they remained unfocused and hazy and then the flaxen haired cop turned his head on the pillow and looked at Starsky.

'Hey there. Don't try to move, you're gonna have the mother of all headaches' the brunet said softly.

'What happened?' Hutch asked with a voice that sounded like a match striking on sandpaper.

Starsky looked fondly back at his partner. There was recognition in the crystal blue eyes and he smiled gently down at the injured man, glad that Hutch was awake and seemed to be able to move and talk ok. It felt so good to have at least a small "normal" conversation with the blond after the weeks of subterfuge and the hours of Hutch's anger being directed at him.

'There was an accident with your gun. You got a little nick in your head buddy.' Starsky lifted his hand to put the bandage in place but stopped suddenly as Hutch flinched away and turned his head.

'It's ok' the brunet assured his partner. 'It's only a nick. I just need to cover it so it don't get dirty.'

Angry eyes turned on him. 'As if you care. What happened? Tried to shoot me and missed? Jeez, you can't even do that right' Hutch snapped weakly. The blond closed his eyes and turned away leaving Starsky open mouthed and for once, lost for words.

'Hutch I….. we fought. You're sick buddy, or at least Milano did sumthin to ya. You're not yourself. It was an accident, but I'm gonna make sure you're ok.'

There was stony silence from the man on the bed and Starsky sighed. He'd known this would never be easy, but the hardness and chill in Hutch's voice brought home the reality that somewhere along the line, the blond had been turned against him. Quietly he asked 'Can I at least tape this over the wound? It's still bleedin'.'

Again there was no answer and the brunet got up and walked around to the other side of the bed. Hutch's eyes were closed, but it was evident in his rigid posture that he wasn't asleep. Getting no further response, Starsky put the bandage over the graze, smoothed it down gently and stood back.

'Can I get ya anythin'? Do ya need a drink?'

Silence.

'Do you want to sleep? You must be beat.'

No response.

'Ok….um. Well I'm here if you need anythin'. Not goin' nowhere, so……um.' Finally running out of words, Starsky sighed again and looked around the small bedroom. He too felt exhausted. The night in the basement had done him no good at all, although now he's taken his meds, the pains in his stomach had abated somewhat and he could think a little more clearly. Silently, Starsky pulled the chair to the corner of the room, subconsciously giving Hutch as much space as he could, and sat down, resting his head on the chair back as he stared at the ceiling. How the hell had it come to this?

It had been a long couple of days for the curly haired cop. During that time, he'd been beaten, kidnapped, held against his will and had escaped with his partner. But did Hutch really want to be here? And what was Starsky going to do with the blond now? In other situations he would have turned to Huggy or to Dobey, the two men he trusted most after Hutch. Huggy, however, had done as much as Starsky dared ask of him while Dobey had almost paid the ultimate price for his involvement with the two detectives. The brunet felt truly alone and as darkness started to fall again, he let his eyes slide closed. Maybe after a few hours sleep he would feel better. Maybe once he was feeling refreshed, he'd have the clarity of mind to know what to do to help Hutch. Slowly sleep overtook him and Starsky's body relaxed as his breathing slowed and quieted.

Meanwhile, on the bed, Hutch lay unmoving. His head pounded with each beat of his heart and although he detested the fact that Starsky was anywhere near him, he had to admit to himself that since the brunet had bathed his wound and dressed it, it felt a lot more comfortable.

The flaxen haired cop remembered little of the preceding few hours. The fight on the cliff top was only a vague memory. The one thing he knew clearly was that Starsky had kidnapped him and was holding him against his will. Even though the handcuffs had been removed, he could still feel the cold of the metal around his wrists and he asked himself what sort of "friend" would do that to another? His only hope was that Sal would come looking for him, after all, Milano was his best buddy, wasn't he? Any friend would come looking for someone who was missing. If only he could get out of the room and go looking for a means of escape he could get back to the Cougars and normality. If he could take out the brunet on his way, that would be an added bonus.

So Hutch remained still and tense on the bed feigning sleep. He listened carefully to Starsky as the brunet walked quietly around the room before sitting down on the chair in the corner. Hutch counted the minutes as the room grew quiet and Starsky ceased to move. Was he asleep, or was this just a trick? Very carefully, he opened his eyes and stole a look around him. In the dim light, he saw the brunet's body slumped in the chair, his eyes closed and a gentle snore coming from his lips.

Cautiously, Hutch sat up and shuffled off the bed. The woodpecker in his head redoubled its effort to hammer its way out through his eye sockets and the blond gritted his teeth against the pain. The gunshot was Starsky's failed attempt to finally kill him, Hutch was convinced of that and now he saw his chance to get his revenge and escape. He stood up, swaying slightly as a wave of dizziness hit him. Staggering, he took a step forward, his eyes on the sleeping brunet. With no other plan in his head other than to dispose of Starsky and get out of the cabin, Hutch lurched forward, tripped slightly and landed on top of the brunet, his hands clawing for Starsky's throat.

Deep indigo blue eyes flashed open in alarm and with a movement born of pure reflex, Starsky stood up, his own hands taking a hold of those around his neck. With a roar of shock, the two men overbalanced. Starsky's knee, the one Hutch had damaged earlier had stiffened and swollen and now he could hardly bear weight on it. It let him down and he fell to the floor bringing Hutch with him.

'Hutch…..buddy…..s'me. Back off' Starsky gasped as the fingers dug deeper into his throat.

'You tried to fuckin' kill me' Hutch yelled, his own face inches from his partner's.

'No, I didn't……Hutch……shit……don't make me……' Starsky struggled to dislodge the blond without hurting him to much, but Hutch had a death grip around Starsky's throat and oxygen was becoming an issue. The brunet tried one last time to get the taller man to see reason.

'Why would I kill ya…..I love ya man.'

'Shudup' Hutch yelled in utter confusion. 'Just shudup.' He let go with his right hand and drew it back to punch out at Starsky and in that one fleeting moment, the smaller man saw his chance and with a fluid movement, he wriggled away out of Hutch's grasp, coming up behind the blond to wrap an arm around the strong tanned neck.

Now it was Hutch's turn to gasp and Starsky hissed in his ear. 'Will ya cut it out Blintz?'

For a second, at the sound of the familiar name, Hutch stopped struggling and Starsky loosened his hold marginally. A moment later, however, the blond redoubled his efforts and threw his head back, the back of Hutch's skull connecting with Starsky's nose with a resounding thud. Stunned and with his eyes tearing in shock, the brunet let go completely, his hands flying up to his nose and coming back slick with blood. Hutch scrambled out of the way and Starsky lurched to his feet, grabbing at the back of Hutch's jeans. He caught hold of them and the momentum swung the blond around until he was facing the blazing deep blue eyes.

'Don't do this buddy' Starsky said in measured tones.

'Do what? Try and escape from a madman?'

'Don't fight. Let me help ya.'

'I don't need your help, I need to get the fuck 'way from you' Hutch snapped.

'You need help. Listen to yourself! What's going on Hutch? What's going on in your head? What did Sal do to you?'

'Showed me the truth. Showed me what I've been too blind to understand all these years.'

'And that is?' Starsky asked. The answer left him breathless.

'That you were never my friend. That you wanted to hold me back, bring me down, and to think I saved your life!'

'Hutch…..don't say no more, please buddy. You don't know what….'

The blond cut off any further comments as he hurled himself once again at Starsky who side stepped smartly and without pausing for thought joined his hands together into a club and brought them down full force on the back of Hutch's neck. The flaxen haired cop dropped like a stone and Starsky leaned back against the wall sickened at what he'd had to do and panting heavily.

Limping, he made his way into the small, utilitarian bathroom, grabbed a towel and held it to his bloody nose. He came back into the bedroom and gazed sorrowfully at his partner's unconscious form wondering what the hell he was going to do now.