Chapter 21

Revenge

Confusion hit him when he tried to stretch out and and found he couldn't. Restriction met his body's attempt to extend and roll and the patterned fabric of his worn couch was the first visual message he received when he opened up one bleary eye.

Obviously he hadn't made it to the bed last night. He rolled onto his back and was relieved to feel a relative absence of the usual mind blowing stabbing pains behind his eyes and the churning nausea that were the hallmarks of a major hangover. He remembered now that he was well on the way to sobering up when he got home and that he'd managed to down some water and aspirin. Ok then – he was not going to pay too big a price for spending the night with a bottle and an indulgent self-pity mood. At least he could face Hutch with a modicum of self-respect and not be hugging the toilet bowl when next he saw his partner.

Thinking of Hutch he creased his forehead with the effort of recollection and eased himself gingerly into a sitting position lest the dreaded signs of nausea jump him from the sidelines. Up and alert he was relieved that the hangover had still not ambushed him and he rubbed absently at his stiff shoulder while he thought.

Last night. Hutch had gone home? He had left a note. Dimly the content of the message played back in his head but most of it was gone. He'd said something about deciding to return home after all and didn't sound pissed off about their little spat in the driveway the evening before. The note was gone from the coffee table and Starsky moved a magazine and a newspaper looking for it before his full bladder took precedence and he walked to the bathroom scratching at his chest and yawning loudly.

Morning ablutions attended to and his mouth and teeth feeling less like a furred dead animal he headed for the kitchen to start his morning coffee.

It was still relatively early – not yet seven thirty. The custom of waking at an ungodly hour after a heavy night of alcohol had never left him and for once he was grateful for getting booted headfirst into the morning. He needed to phone Hutch and set things right before they started their day.

Taking his mug he sat down with the phone to make the call. He thought little when the phone rang out. He'd try again when Hutch was out of the shower or the john or maybe even finishing up his morning run. Starsky stood to take his coffee in with him to take his own shower.

He was surprised that he was feeling lighter in spirit this morning. Maybe he and Hutch had just needed a bit of personal time. 'Corners' Hutch had termed it, each taking to their own corner. The concept had merit obviously. Hutch usually knew best or liked to think he did - and Starsky smiled at that as he turned on the water. Maybe he had just needed to wallow deep for a while in his frustrations with all of the Ryan shit. Either way he felt a bit clearer headed and less burdened by the irritable mood that had followed him around all of the day before.

He resolved to himself to make it up to his partner for being such a prig yesterday.

Fifteen minutes later with his second coffee poured the phone rang out again at Hutch's.

Could he already have left to come here himself and clear the air of last night? Highly likely given his sensitive partner's way of thinking –and given the tone of that note.

Thinking again of the message he put down his coffee and looked for it. He had remembered reading it just before he'd crashed out last night. On hands and knees now he found it underneath the couch where it must have ended up last night.

He read it again. Then read it again more slowly.

"Jesus Hutch. What the hell?" he shook his head as he mused about his partner's propensity for deep thinking. The sentiment in the note seemed out of proportion to their differences last night. He really wished Hutch would lighten up a bit more about simple altercations they so often had. Surely he knew that he hadn't meant it when he'd driven off with a burr in his ass. Obviously though it had concerned Hutch more than he realized it would have and Starsky felt bad for having once more allowed his friend to be hurt by his moodiness.

He called Hutch's house once more and deciding that he obviously was in transit sauntered into the kitchen to fix himself some food while he was waiting.

Nearly an hour later and close to nine am he was still waiting. Shit they were already way late for work and Dobey would be spewing. Where the hell was Hutch? Two calls to the station had revealed that he hadn't gotten in a shit and gone to work separately without letting his partner know.

Starsky was tired of waiting. Grabbing his keys he headed for the door. It was only when he was about to lock it that he stopped and went back in. He retrieved the now crumpled note from the coffee table and pocketed it with no real reason to do so except that something about the note niggled at a part of his brain. The part that he had come to think of his mind – gut connection. That mind – gut connection was starting to vibrate and not in a good way.

In the Torino he patched through once more to check that Hutch had not shown up at work and then left a message for Dobey that he would be late on the pretense of he and Hutch both checking out something before hitting the station. He made sure that he didn't speak to Dobey directly as he knew his big Captain would start to ask too many questions.

It was only logical that he would try the hospital and Riley. Hutch may well have stopped there to visit him still feeling put out by their disagreement last night and needing some support.

Starsky was pleased to realize that he didn't mind that scenario at all and hoped that it proved to himself that he was really over the whole jealousy thing with the young Rookie.

Hutch had not been there either and Starsky felt the niggles of worry build to a burning friction.

"You haven't seen him at all this morning – or last night?"

"Hey Starsky, do you think I'd lie about it? Why? Hutch hasn't been here. Got a call from him yesterday in the middle of the day and he said he'd hoped to get over last night but he never showed."

"Yeah well last night he probably couldn't manage it after I put him in position where he wanted to wait for me to come home – make sure I was in one piece."

"What do you mean by that?"

Starsky sighed and explained. After all Riley might as well know.

"I'd been on a major downer all day about Ryan and then last night I took off in a tear to get plastered. He wouldn't have probably have wanted to leave my place in case I called him to come carry me home. Said he was gonna wait in fact till I did…." Starsky frowned at the memory of Hutch's firm resolve to do so and wondered what might have changed his mind to go home in the end anyway.

"And you mean he didn't wait?"

"No. Got home eventually. In one piece. Late – after 1am. He was gone. Don't know what time he left, but he left me a note saying he had decided to head off after all."

"So he went home? Why are you worried about that? Maybe he decided you were big enough to lick your own wounds this time." Riley tried a smile but could see the concern etched in Starsky's face.

"Because, he's no where I can find this morning. Thought he might be here visiting you first. I'm already so late for work, might as well be totally screwed and drive out to the beach. See if he's at home and something's amiss."

"You want me to come with you?"

"What? Of course not! You're in damn hospital in case you haven't noticed Riley, not lying in a hotel bed for Christ's sakes."

"Look, I'm ready to split this place. Sick and tired of lying here when I could be just as easily be lying in my own bed. Not even on medication now except for aspirin. Nothing that time and healing won't take care of."

"You got it right. Healing. That's the word and that is why you're in hospital you idiot. Hospital to heal. Hospital to get medical care. Remember?"

"Starsky you're the last one who should try to lecture me about staying in hospital and you know it. I've seen you in action and Hutch has told me enough about your aversion to medical treatment for me to know. Now give me some time to get dressed and discharge myself and I'll come with you to Hutch's. I'm as worried as you are."

"I never said I was worried."

"No you didn't but you didn't have to either. You know it's not like him not to let you know what he's moves are."

Starsky hesitated for a moment, walked to the window looked out at seemingly nothing and then turned back to face Riley who was by now climbing out of the bed.

"The note. The note's got me worried."

"The note he left you? Last night?"

"Yeah. It's just….. I've read it a coupla times now and it sounds …how the hell do I explain it? It sounds – well final. It sounds damn final Riley, like he wasn't just scribbling down a quick message about goin' home. More like, more like he had made a decision to do somethin' I wouldn't like. Shit – here – you read the thing and tell me it's all in my head. Maybe it is."

He thrust the crumpled sheet at the younger man and paced back to the window but never took his eyes off Riley as his eyes tracked the words.

Riley looked up.

"Well? Am I being paranoid about this or what? Just a note eh?"

"Starsky you know Hutch better than anyone but I have to say this is one emotionally charged "catch you tomorrow, decided to crash at my own tonight" dashed off scribble. Of course it could be he was just feeling mellow about your – argument."

"We didn't really have an argument. Hell this is gettin' me nowhere. I'm off and you're stayin' put. Talk to your doc about getting out in a day or two ok?"

"I want to help."

"Maybe nothin' to help with yet Riley. Just let me get over to Hutch's and I promise I'll give you a call alright? But you have to stay here. Hutch'll kill me if he thinks I've spooked you into early discharge. Thanks for the ear Riley. And you're right – I am a little worried."

"I'll be waiting for the call Starsky."

The door had barely closed behind him when Riley put his feet to the ground and took a few unsteady steps toward the bathroom. Time to get moving around and packing up his things. If the worst was going to eventuate, if Ryan was once more in their midst and if Hutch had disappeared, there was no way he wasn't going to be out there with Starsky.

Starsky would just have to get used to the idea.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

"Fuck! Fuck!"

He'd pulled up at the cottage to find not only no sorry assed car of Hutch's parked in its usual spot and that got him started. Then using his own key to enter the small house he took only moments to conclude the place had not been visited the evening before or that morning. The shower was dry and the towels hanging on the racks were too, the kitchen showed no recent activity, no coffee mugs, no warm water in the kettle, no fresh food scraps or freshly soiled plates – nothing of anything. It was as he imagined it would look when someone had not been home for a few days – musty and closed up, stale food odors and an over-riding sense of human neglect. The biggest tell-tale sign of course was the slight wilt to the plants and the dry to the touch earth and compost beds when Starsky stopped to push his finger into the small terracotta pots. Hutch would never neglect to water his precious babies if he had paid a visit back home.

Starsky knew for certain now something was wrong and he let himself crumple to the side of Hutch's bed as he sat to gather his thoughts. To gather his fears in fact, because it was fear and panic that was bubbling in him now and rational clear thoughts were not doing too well finding a place to take hold.

"Fuck - No…" he said again, the rough expletive the only word he could suited his need to express his dawning fear.

Starsky leaned forward on the edge of the bed and gripped his forehead in his hands trying to push the ragged panic down so he could think in a logical systematic way.

Be calm and think. Think like a cop. What are the freakin' facts Starsky? The facts?

Hutch had told him when he left him last night that he was going to wait at his place for him to return. He had changed his mind about that decision. Or - something had made him change his mind. Hutch had not come home like he said he was going to. Had he intended to come home, was he heading that way? Had he been intercepted on the way? Hutch had left his place last night while he was out at the bar some time during the hours between nine and twelve thirty am. Maybe he had never had his home as a destination but someplace else entirely? Hutch had gone someplace in his car or been taken someplace in his car. Hutch had left him a note written in his own hand. Had he been coerced or forced to write the note? Not likely given the heavy content. What had happened in the intervening hours to change his mind, to make him leave, to make him write such an emotional note?

One name kept swimming sickeningly in his head.

Ryan.

Starsky thought back to when he had returned home last night. Sure he had been intoxicated to a degree but he saw no evidence of intrusion or a fight – no sign that Hutch had been overpowered and taken by force. No sign of any one else having been in the apartment at all unless it had been a peaceful visit. If it had been Ryan it would not have been peaceful and it would not have been without violence. Hutch would not have allowed himself to be simply walked out of there by Ryan? Would he? Unless Ryan threatened him in such a way that Hutch felt he had no option but to go quietly, without a struggle.

It was all too pat, all too tidy.

Hutch had walked out of his own volition; Starsky felt it in his guts. Thus the note, thus the tone of sadness, remorse and the sense of having been ripped away from Starsky.

Hutch had felt he had no choice.

"No Hutch…no."

And yet he knew it was very much yes. He knew deep in his heavy heart that something had happened to make his friend make the decision to do what he felt he had to – to leave – to go…..to go and get Ryan?

"This is what you need and what I need to do for you…..There is no easy way to make this better for you, otherwise I wouldn't chose to act this way…"

Starsky would leave now. Lock up Hutch's small house, drive back to Metro, hope against hope that Hutch had turned up to work with some left of center loopy reason why he had fallen off the earth since last night. Starsky would bitch and rail at him for worrying him and Hutch would gripe that Starsky owed him plenty of worry paybacks. They would bait and push at each other verbally for a while and then get on with the day, Dobey in the background, full of vitriol for yet another late start by the wayward duo.

It was a soothing fantasy and kept Starsky putting one foot in front of the other as he closed the house and walked to his car.

It was just a fantasy. None of that was going to happen Starsky knew. Hutch wouldn't be at the station, he wouldn't have shown up back at his apartment since Starsky had left it either, nor would he be with Riley. Hutch wouldn't be anyplace else where he could be found. Dobey would be full of vitriol but it would be because one half of his team was missing.

Hutch was gone. Gone to kill Ryan Lancaster.

Starsky was sure of it and the realization was starting to kill him too.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

In the end he headed to the station though he knew there would be no partner waiting for him. He needed to check nonetheless and to let Riley know as he had promised. He wanted also to call Huggy and inform him of the situation in case Hutch had happened to make contact with him or whether Hug had any fresh word on Ryan's reappearance.

All of this had to be done under the radar without Dobey knowing. He would concoct some story to explain Hutch's absence for the first half of the day. Dobey would stay out of the picture until Starsky could marshal a plan of what he could do. To bring his captain into the play now could mean any chance of him acting independently to find Hutch before the law did and to forestall Hutch's intentions would be dashed.

Of course he knew he had nothing to plan and nothing he could do.

Ryan was as invisible as he was yesterday and all the days preceding. The only difference now was that Hutch was also missing.

The only difference now was that as well as his rage at Ryan's continued disappearance Starsky was now crippled with the terror that his partner was about to or had already destroyed his life or had his life ended.

Dobey could not know.

The squad room yielded no tall blond-haired Blintz and the yawning reality of the nightmare opened wider for Starsky as he found a quiet spot to phone Riley.

In a spare interrogation room he put the call through.

It wasn't until he heard his voice, youthful in its cadence and yet somehow at that same time filled with a promise of firm control, that Starsky felt his composure truly slipping. All at once the voice on the other end of the phone became some form of lifeboat for him to grip on to with desperation. A desperation he knew he was fast losing the ability to hide.

"It's me Riley. It's…shit he's nowhere. He's nowhere Riley. I can't find him and – I'm afraid …I'm scared that – Ah shit. Look I told you'd I'd let you know so I have."

"You don't think I can hear it Starsky? You don't think I know you fear the worst? Where he's gone? Where he might be at?"

"There's no evidence that he's anywhere Riley. Nothing. Zilch. No clues."

"But the note. He told you in the note didn't he?"

Suddenly and inexplicably Starsky felt the anger rise in him and he gripped the phone with unbearable force.

"You said nothing about the note like that when I was with you earlier! You were very careful to make no strong comment either way."

" It's stacking up Starsky. The picture is getting clearer. Now the point is what are we going to do? You and I? How are we going to work together to find where Hutch has gone to get to Ryan and how did he find him in the first place?"

"I can't let you in on this Riley. I won't even let Dobey know. If Hutch has – if he's gone to – meet with Ryan then this is my job entirely. No one else's. Hutch's life and at the very least, career is on the line. It's gotta be me to get to him before it's too freakin' late."

"Starsky Ryan wants you. Remember that. He wants you. Hutch is leverage, nothing else for him. Don't sell me short here Starsky. I know something about this man after all of this time too you know. Give me some benefit here."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that Ryan won't be found by you but my guess is that he'll invite you to find him. If Hutch hasn't killed him already, Ryan will find you – and soon. I want to be with you when he does. You owe it to me to let me see this out, let me be a part of this ending. I saved you both once and I want the chance to be there for Hutch again. Ryan beat the shit out of me and I have a right to take him in for that alone. And – if - if Hutch is still – "

"Don't you say it! Don't you fuckin' dare say that Riley!"

But Riley continued, talking over Starsky's desolation.

"If Hutch is still alive Starsky, I want to be there for him and you can't stop me. Come and get me or I'll meet you at your place – please. Don't make me beg for this. I owe Hutch so much and I think he would be pleased to think you allowed me in on trying to help you find him."

Starsky wrapped his shaking hands around the receiver and leaned hard on his elbows, the earpiece leaving a visible indentation on his forehead as he considered his position.

"Starsky? Talk to me."

Nearly eleven in the morning. Hutch had been gone for around twelve hours now, give or take.

Give or take death. Fuck NOOOOO. Don't think that. Don't think that.

He's alive. Alive of course. But – but – could he be hurt? Badly hurt? How badly?

So much could happen to a body, be done to a body in twelve hours. So much could be done to a body in minutes. Did he even get one hour? After twelve hours was his body still of this world? Again he bit back on his own treacherous thoughts that Hutch could be dead.

He sat back in the hard chair and stared at the bold-faced clock face on the bare wall of the utilitarian interrogation room. Everything suddenly seemed bare and stark, bold and hardened.

"I don't know what to do next Riley. I have no direction to take." He breathed out into the earpiece, his whispered terror a terrible force inside his soul.

"Get in your car. Come and get me. We'll take it from there."

And just like that Riley became his only signpost.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Cold, wet, pain.

Something was dripping and sliding off his head and down his neck.

Rain? Was he in the rain, why was he in the rain? And cold and so aching, so sore?

He felt a rough push, a kick against his shin. Darkness prevailed and he ignored the external stimulus.

Then another kick, another painful bolt shot up his calf and into his upper leg. The wetness clung to his tender chest and chilled his torso. As the icy air pervaded his skin it brought to life a thousand small zaps of electric pain through his whole body.

Had he been jumped in an alley chasing some shady perps? Where was Starsky? Were they in an ER cubicle? What was the kick to the leg all about?

Christ the pain was unbearable. If he was in hospital where the hell was the pain relief meds?

"I have another bucket of cold water if you need it Hutchinson so either open your eyes or I'll douse you again."

The deep voice invoked a memory not too far below the surface. He labored to connect the dots in his aching head. Still he came up short.

The baritone was addressing him again.

"Those skinheads gave you way too much juice. You've been out to it for fucking hours. I'm getting to the point where I can't wait any longer before I phone your partner for a little chat and I'd like you to be part of it so wake the fuck up!"

This time an ear shattering blow to the side of his head – an open palm smacking hard against his excruciatingly painful eye and upper jaw had him rocking hard in his upright position. He tried to force his sticky eyes open with the shock of the blow but it was the pain that was driving his movement not awareness. He was lost in his throbbing head, confusion and pain filling it to explosion point.

The deep voice had a face or at least a set of fuzzy features equating to a face. The features danced in front of his sensitive eyes and though he could see that were bloodied and bruised, misshapen by swelling and tissue damage, the composite of their parts came together in his memory to form a familiar pattern.

He knew this face.

The thin-lipped mouth, generous and yet too thin at the same time, the dark liquid pools of black which were almost luminous in the half-light, the long sweeping curtain of thick dark hair swept back from a forehead tall and arrogant. The face represented something evil, something inherently bad and as his clouded mind struggled to find the name to the image it came to him now in a bilious rush.

His own lips felt odd as though they were swollen and pulled tight but he hissed out the word almost involuntarily.

"Ryan".

"Yes, Ryan. Me. Remember now Hutchinson? Coming back to you? You came to kill me. Came to end it all for me so that I could not have Starsky. You didn't win Hutchinson. You didn't win. I'm standing above you and you're tied to a chair smashed up and pathetically broken. Not the hero you thought you'd be are you?"

Hutch twisted his throbbing head a little to the side and tried to survey his surroundings.

Memory and the full onslaught of pain returned in force to his body and mind in equal measures.

The room around him, what he could make out of it through his puffed up eyes was the same room he and Ryan had fought in earlier. The same room where –

"Where - are your - goons Ryan? Slunk away now they've done your work for you? You fucking coward."

That earned him another blow to the face, not as severe as the first but enough to reopen one of the cuts on his cheeks that had begun to dry up. He felt the fresh warm trickle of blood sliding down his cheek and throat, warming the cold flesh where the droplets of icy water still clung chilling his aching head. He stifled a moan in a long series of moans that he wanted to produce and stared back with disgust at his tormentor.

"Not a coward Hutchinson, just strategic. I couldn't let you take this to the end – couldn't finish this off, what is between you and me. This is not about you. This is about Starsky. You are here only for that reason. I told you remember, or is your brain too rattled by that nice kick my hired muscle landed to your skull?"

"I can think enough to know what you're going to do."

"Good. Then you know why you're still alive and you know why I need to be in one piece. Starsky is going to come Hutchie boy. That'll make you happy won't it? You get to see him again before you die. He'll come as soon as I let him know that I have you here and that I'm pumping you full of your favorite cocktail. He'll hate that won't he? To think that I've plied you full of heroin again? Just an extra touch that I thought would ramp up his anxiety levels. I always told him I knew about your filthy habit. I'm not the only one with secrets am I Hutchinson?"

Hutch had closed his burning eyes in an effort to block out Ryan's face, his demonic smile.

"Got nothing to say Mr Perfect Cop? Not going to defend yourself with righteous indignation? Maybe you're still muddled in the head. Maybe that tranquilizer I shot into you is dumbing you down? You seem dumb – dumb and half dead."

From deep inside Hutch summoned the strength to fight back verbally. It was after all the only weapon he had left and he rallied himself to show this psycho that he still hadn't given up the battle. Each word tore at his broken chest.

"Motherfucker. From the day I met you, you've always been a Motherfucker. Riley should have put a bullet between your eyes that night when he had the chance. God knows you need it you sick sick sick fuck…"

"You know I always get a little shocked when I hear those filthy words come out of that pretty blond head of yours. Your mouth looks almost too perfect to be defiled with such profanity. Then again – I suppose your mouth has been used to enjoying the a lot more than just dirty words over the years hasn't it Lover Boy? I bet your lips are used to wrapping around something more sinful than foul language. All these years you've had Starsky to yourself. "

"I didn't come here to listen to you gloat on your own innuendos Ryan. But if you're talking about cocksuckers then I suppose you'd know better than me. After all you littered your police career with your own perversions. Trying to force your mouth around every poor innocent rookie you could threaten into pleasuring you."

"Oh touché to the college boy. Always were quick on the uptake weren't you? Always thought you were the smartest dick in the class, the brightest one of all of us. Always thought you were so superior. Right from the start you tried to lord over me and tell me what I could not have."

"That is such shit. All in your sick mind Ryan. The only thing I ever tried to prevent you from having was Starsky. He was not yours to take. Not the way you tried to anyway."

"But you think he was yours?"

"No. He was not mine and he is not mine still. He is his own person."

"You believe that? You really believe that? What lies! You've always marked him as yours. Taken him and held him away from me. Turned him against me when he might have wanted me as much as I wanted him. You never ever let him have the chance to find out."

"If Starsky had wanted you Ryan he would be with you now. If Starsky had wanted you none of this would have happened and we wouldn't be standing here like this now with me feeling the way I do toward you."

"You've never given him the space to know that he wants me! How can he come to me willingly when you have tainted his mind against me and stood between us?"

"Tainted his mind! Ryan you sick fucker you've nearly killed him twice. You've done nothing but hurt and abuse him and drive him down with your tormenting madness. How could he not be tainted – how could he not hate you like he does when you have done everything to break him?"

Ryan had stepped closer, and what had been sneering contempt had begun to turn to twisted pain and grief. Both hands reached up to hold the thick veil of his heavy dark hair from his forehead as he moved closer to Hutch.

"No that is not how it was. Not at first. At first it wasn't him. It wasn't him. I never meant to break him, just to have him to myself . It was you I had to break. It was you who had to be destroyed."

"But it is Starsky you have hurt. Can't you understand how sick you are? How fucking crazy and messed up in the head you are? Can't you see what you've done to him?"

"You! You should have died that day. Or at least been hurt so badly that you had to leave the training program. It was you not him. But you made him go instead. You ruined it even then. You made me hurt him. You made me nearly kill him when it should have been you."

Hutch frowned heavily, shaking his head and peering into the half-light at the crazed looking eyes looking down on him. He tried to make sense of what Ryan was saying, pain clawing like a wild animal through his whole being.

"What are you talking about for God's sake? What day? Wh – "

He stopped mid- sentence as clarity clicked.

"The rope field exercise. Starsky – fell. You did it. You fucking tampered with the rope! It was you. All those months after I wondered….couldn't believe anyone could be that sick, that evil. You. Starsky could have died. Jesus Christ you were sick even back then."

"But he didn't die did he? I helped to save him. I held that fucking rope till my hands were cut and bleeding. Did he remember me? Did he even see me trying to help him? NO! Not while you were there. Not while you stood in my way. He followed your words, your directions. Always following you, you always following him."

"Trust. It's called trust and I've told you before Ryan. You'll never have it or know it. It's what stands between you and us. It makes us who we 's why you can't have Starsky and why I won't let you. "

"Yes – you're so right." Ryan nodded in agreement as he checked the restraints on his captive's bonds, before straightening up slowly, grimacing when his own tortured body protested with the moves. "And that is exactly what I am counting on to bring my lover to me when I make this call. One of my 'goons' as you so correctly termed them is tailing your partner all around the city this morning. I know where to get him."

Hutch tried to slot facts in some systematic order.

Through the grimy papered over windows he could see daylight. The drug must have put him out for hours. Starsky would no doubt know he was missing by now. He would be frantic. It was never meant to be like this. It was all meant to be over now. Over and finished, one way or the other.

Instead Ryan had them again. Desperate, lost and hopeless. He showed Ryan only what little bravado he could dredge up.

"He's not a fool. You think he'll come running to you just because you throw out some shit story about me and heroin?"

Ryan shook his head with a low laugh.

"Will he come for you? Oh Hutchinson. Lover Boy. You really think you have to ask me that question? "

Hutch could no longer look at the sneering supremacy and bowed his head in sickened defeat.

Of course his partner would come.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

"Tell me again why I'm sitting here in my damn apartment and not out there looking for him – for them, for God's sake?"

"Try to settle down Starsky. Where else do you propose we be for the moment? At the station with Dobey knowing straight away that you're hiding something from him? If you want to play this without police involvement then we have to take the logical steps. It's ok for now because legally this is not yet a police issue. Hutch could be anywhere and perfectly safe –"

"The hell he is and you know it!"

"I know that, or at least I fear that….but you tell Dobey and he'll want to go about it his own way. If Hutch has gone after Ryan then we need to stop and think. What have you told Dobey about why you're not in there anyway?"

"Phoned through and said I was bringing you home from hospital – hopefully he won't call the hospital and find out you checked out yourself against medical advice. Said that Hutch had personal family business to deal with today and he couldn't be there for you. It's damn flimsy and it's only a matter of time before I have Dobey either calling me or knocking on that door."

"Well it gives us some space at least. Something will happen soon. It's been hours since he went missing."

Starsky face was angry, his patience thin and brittle.

"What do you mean something will happen soon?"

"I mean Starsky – think about it. One or other of them will call you here if they are able to, depending on what – what happened in the end. Hutch won't leave you hanging if he can find a way to get to you – and Ryan – well Ryan will want to give you the news or get you to go to him."

"How the hell can you be so sure of that? You talk like you have some freakin' inside knowledge of –"

"Starsky! You have to trust me. I am not and never was involved or connected with Ryan so don't go letting this mess with your head again. Hutch left here last night. He wouldn't have done that suddenly like that if something hadn't happened, something hadn't changed. He got some news – some more information that made him take off out of here and leave his damn gun behind. Something unrelated to anything with his job or other cases –otherwise he wouldn't have left unarmed. It was something arranged – a decision on his part to leave the magnum."

They had found the gun soon after they returned to the apartment from the hospital. It was bundled inside his duffle bag among his clothes where Hutch must have hastily concealed it. The sight of the holster and gleaming gun was almost enough to turn Starsky's bowels to water. Hutch had left the apartment purposely unarmed.

"You know he went to meet him. You know he tried to hide it from you – at least for a while. Now we wait. Here. It is the logical place for either of them to contact you."

"I could be getting a search out for Hutch's car…"

"Sure but do you want to do that until we know… we can do it now if that is what you want. What do you want Starsky? What do you want to do? It's your call?"

"You think he's in deep deep shit don't you? You think he's done it already – fucked up his whole life for me?"

"I don't know Starsky. All I know is that Hutch would do anything if he thought it would save you. Now we can wait and see if he wants to tell you what he's done, what he plans to do – give him some time to -"

"And what if he's lying injured or dead? While I sit here on my fuckin' ass waiting for some call that he can't ever make?"

"It's going to take a long time to track him anyway. He could have dumped the car straight away and zigzagged across the city in taxis or another vehicle. He could be half way out of the state by now. Putting out an APB on his car may get you nowhere but will mean you're putting the law onto him."

Starsky looked tormented. Riley's almost calm demeanour and quiet unrushed voice did anything but calm him. If anything the younger man's composure unsettled him even more and highlighted his own tenuous hold on sanity. He rubbed at his face, tore at his hair and held his hand hovering above the phone as though it was a molten piece of metal.

"I can't risk it Riley…I won't risk leaving him wounded, hurt. I'd rather blame myself for putting him in jail then having to find him dead and alone. I have to contact Dobey, tell him my fears – "

Riley stood and put his hands on Starsky's shaking arm.

"Your decision Starsky. Only yours. No one else's and certainly not mine. Talk to Dobey."

He didn't get to make the call for as they both looked toward the phone its shrill tone rang out in the sombre leaden atmosphere of the room.

Both men looked urgently at each other.

It could be anyone on the other end. It could be no-one of note and no-one that would do a thing to ease Starsky's personal agony.

He picked it up and readied himself for the anticlimax, already angry that it would be anyone but Hutch.

It wasn't Hutch.

It was Ryan.

"I knew you were there waiting. Waiting to know where he is, waiting to know what I have done to him."

"I won't come to you if he is dead. Remember that."

"Oh? Not even to claim his body? I'm surprised to hear you say that Starsky."

Somehow he managed to fall into the chair that Riley had pushed beneath his quaking body, his face pale, and bloodless as he closed his eyes against the dizziness.

Suddenly he opened his eyes and spoke with force.

"He's not dead Ryan. If he hasn't killed you and obviously he hasn't - you won't kill him because you want me to come to you. You know the only way I'll do that is to get Hutch back."

"Got it all worked out Detective Starsky?"

"I know the stink of you, the sound of you and I how your sick mind churns."

"Well that makes everything so much easier then doesn't it? I've got what you want and you are what I want. You know he really thought he could make all your problems go away Starsky? Did you know that he would do it? Noble cop, upright citizen, upholder of the law – all the things your blond hero represents to the world? And then just like that he was prepared to shit it all away by killing me with his own bare hands."

The holster with the big magnum hung from the chair and Starsky thought about his partner's bare shoulder devoid of his harness with nothing but his two big capable hands to fight for his life. He swallowed against the nausea that surfaced when he swore he could hear the sound of flesh pounding on flesh.

"He can fight your big blond hero. He always was good with that athletic body wasn't he? Is he as good as that in bed I wonder? Fast and rough? You like it like that with him Starsky?"

"I ain't interested in your lurid sex fetishes Ryan. Fuckin' give me the game plan here. That's all I'm interested in. You think I wanna hear about what turns your dick hard?"

"You wouldn't want to piss me off now Starsky. Not when I'm the one standing beside Lover Boy here. Pretty blondie with his head all smashed up and his body not much good for anything. He's moaning with agony. Seems my boys were a little too rough on him. Don't you worry though – I've decided to put him out of his misery with some pain relief. He'll like the cocktail I've prepared for him. A little liquid medicine he is familiar with and one that sends him wild. Your partner will be in his own little heaven by the time you get here."

"You fuckin' touch him with a needle and I swear I'll hold you down and rip your fuckin' eyes out Ryan. You go near him with heroin and – "

"And what? Just get here and then we'll see how much bargaining power you have Starksy. At the moment from where I'm sitting and impatiently waiting, you have very little of it."

Starsky stood and leaned hard against the wall, his forehead pressed into the plaster as he held the phone against his chest for one moment.

"I want to hear him. Let me hear him."

"Why? You've already said that you're convinced I haven't already killed him."

"….Still….. need to hear him before I come."

"I'd like to oblige you in your little dream Starsky but I don't think your big blond lover can come up with the goods. Don't think he's capable of saying too much of anything."

"Put the phone to his ear. If he's there like you say he fuckin' is and this is not just another lie than put the fuckin' phone to his ear."

There was a shuffling sound and the line became nothing but a hum of background noise and murmurs and grunting bodily sounds.

"Here Lover Boy – Starsky wants you to talk to him." Starsky heard the cruel laughter and the sound of a phone being pushed against flesh. Again he wanted to gag.

Soon there was no sound but a tortured, ragged breath and what might be a guttural moan.

Starsky felt the tears swim in his eyes and pressed his forehead harder against the unyielding wall, the earpiece held tight to catch even the barest sound of what could be Hutch. In truth the amputated gut wrenching sounds could have been from any wounded animal.

"Hutch. Listen. I'm comin'. Soon – I'll be there soon. Just breathe, keep breathing and know I'm comin'. Hutch – I'm comin' babe."

If he'd hoped for a reward, the barest reward that indicated Hutch was able to communicate with him, he was left empty handed.

The ragged breath picked up in intensity and there was one longer shuddering inhalation, but that was all. It was the only indication that Hutch had understood he was not alone.

It would have to be enough to carry Starsky through what he had to do next.

"RYAN! RYAN! Get back on the phone."

"Not the most satisfying lover's exchange I take it? "

"Tell me where. I'm on my way. But – if I find one needle track on him, don't think I'll give you what it is you want. "

"Just come Starsky. I've waited far too long."

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