Part 29

Starsky still remembered with agonizing clarity the day that Lisa's father had died. There had been nothing extraordinary about it – just as there had been nothing about the day he'd been shot to indicate what was to come. In his experience there rarely ever was, everyday fate had another game to play and she very rarely gave a warning.

Frank wasn't even supposed to have been working that day. He'd spent the morning catching up on some paperwork. The week had so far been a quiet one, and that day had been no different. Starsky and Hutch had spent the morning at their desk typing up and filing case reports from the week before. They didn't like quiet days, and quiet weeks were almost unheard of when you worked the busy inner city streets – Starsky had once referred to it as a jungle and that's exactly what it was. Quiet days made them nervous that something big was about the go down, but it had also given them the opportunity to catch up on all the case reports they'd let pile up, and hopefully get Captain Dobey off their backs in the process.

At around midday Starsky's stomach had started to grumble, letting him know that he was hungry – but when was Starsky ever not hungry Hutch had joked as he'd looked at his watch and realised that it was nearly lunchtime. They'd debated where to go – as was his usual custom Hutch had already brought food with him that day, but it was never normally enough to satisfy his appetite once they hit the streets. 'The Pits' was a regular pitstop when they'd been working a case, but there wasn't always enough time to make it there and back to the station. One thing Hutch had come to realise about his partner in all the years they'd known each other however was that he could always eat, and as a result he seemed to know every eatery within a three mile radius of the station.

They'd settled on a small Mexican takeout joint a few blocks away – Starsky had had a hankering for a beef burrito with extra onions and Hutch had always been particularly partial to their special chilli, which unlike most of Starsky's favourite restaurants they made with fresh beans and tomatoes.

As they'd been leaving Frank had looked up from the papers he'd been working on all morning, yawned and stretched. He'd been a good friend – a good ten years or so older than the two Detectives he'd clocked up more than twenty years experience on the force. They'd asked him to join them – it had seemed like a good idea at the time, a chance to unwind and catch up with an old friend – but they'd only just pulled out of the station parking lot when a report had come through about an armed robbery in progress at a local convenience store. Starsky had turned the car around, revving the engine, and Hutch had put the call through to dispatch that they were responding, their lunch plans quickly forgotten. Frank had still been in the back of the car with them when they'd pulled up outside the front of the store and had been told that the men had run off into a nearby ally. The three detectives had given chase, but they hadn't counted on walking straight into an ambush.

Everything had happened so quickly. When they'd rounded the corner into the entrance to the ally the men had immediately opened fire on them. Starsky and Hutch had instinctively leapt to find cover, taking refuge behind a pile of cardboard boxes. Frank's first impulse had been to reach for his weapon, but he hadn't been quick enough and whilst he'd been momentarily distracted one of the assailants had fired his gun from somewhere nearby – striking him at point blank range.

"FRANK!" Hutch had yelled as he'd rushed out into the line of fire, discharging his own weapon in all directions. Starsky too had opened fire in a bid to cover him, but as another couple of shots rang out – the sound ricocheting off the walls making it impossible to know for sure from where they had been fired – Starsky had watched as Hutch too had fallen to the ground.

One of Starsky's bullets had found it's mark, hitting one of the men who'd slumped over in front of a row of trash cans – dead – whilst the rest of the gang had run off, and Starsky had reached his partner's side first, checking that Hutch was still breathing before racing to check on Frank. Both men had still been conscious, but badly injured. Frank had taken a direct hit, sustaining massive damage. Blood had started to pool beneath his body, and Hutch's clothes had been stained crimson as he'd slowly started edging his way towards his fallen friend – bridging the short gap between them.

A small crowd had started to gather at the entrance to the alley, and Starsky had called out for one of them to call an ambulance – when he'd said this a couple of people had hurried away, and he could only hope that they'd left to do just that. The fear he'd felt in that moment had been suffocating, but he'd done his best to not let it overwhelm him. There'd been nobody else around to help them – he'd never felt so alone, but he'd known that if he'd wanted to save his friends then he needed to keep his head.

"I'm sorry." Frank had whimpered.

"For what?" Starsky had asked him as he'd assessed the man's injuries as best he could – applying pressure to a wound he'd discovered in his abdomen. He'd torn strips from the man's shirt with which to pack it and try and stem some of the bleeding, just as he'd been trained to do, but no sooner had he done this they were soaked through with blood.

"He was too quick for me. I wasn't ready."

"Come on Frank." Hutch had exclaimed. He himself had been bleeding profusely from a bullet wound to the shoulder, and another he'd taken to his back whilst running to their injured friend's side. Starsky had found himself facing an impossible dilemma, he couldn't help both men, and he could see that there was no hope for Frank – the amount of blood pooling into the ground around his failing body was enough to tell him that the wounds he'd sustained to his chest and abdomen would be fatal. Upon reviewing the two men's condition he'd made the difficult decision to focus on applying pressure to Hutch's bullet holes, resigned to the fact that he was not going to be able to save Frank and determined to at least save the life of his best friend, but there had already been more blood than he'd been able to stem with his hands alone and his attempts had been hampered even further by Hutch's refusal to stay still.

"Think of Mitzi and of Lisa! They need you!" The blonde had urged. "Don't make your little girl grow up without a father!"

Starsky had watched a small smile creep across Frank's face as Hutch had said this. The mention of his wife and daughter appeared to have given the man some strength, but it still hadn't been enough. He'd barely been able to speak, and when he'd opened his mouth to respond only a small gurgle had escaped him at first as he'd choked on the blood already beginning to fill his lungs. A small trickle of the crimson liquid had oozed out from between his thin and pale lips as he'd coughed, his lungs struggling to expel the fluid, but it had been just enough to enable him to find his voice again.

"Help!" Starsky had shouted to anyone who would be prepared to listen. A few people had by now already began to gather closer to the scene which had been unfolding in front of them, but either allowing their actions to be dictated by their fear or just unsure of how to offer assistance nobody responded. "We need some help here!" Starsky had pleaded, but his appeals had fallen on deaf ears. He wondered where the ambulance was, where their backup was… why had nobody else responded when the radio call had clearly identified that there was an armed robbery in progress?

Frank's whole body had shuddered as he had struggled to draw breath enough to speak.

"Don't make this any harder than it already has to be Ken." He'd pleaded weakly. "David knows it's a lost cause." He'd looked up at Starsky as he'd said this, and smiled. "You have to let him work on you now… don't fight him Ken. Lisa's too young to understand, and… well... please… just… tell Mitzi that I love her."

"You can tell her yourself." Hutch had smiled, reaching out one hand – which Starsky had noticed was already beginning to turn blue around the cuticles of his nails – and taking Frank by his, squeezing it as hard as he could. "I didn't take a bullet to the back so that you could give up so easily." He'd urged. "You're a fighter Frank, so fight this! Don't let go now!"

"I'll hold on for as long as I can." Frank had promised.

"You just make sure you do Frank!" Starsky had implored him, holding his gaze, and their friend had nodded.

Considering the amount of blood loss the man had still seemed surprisingly alert, but Starsky had suspected that that probably had had a lot to do with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. It was a double edged sword however, also causing the blood to pump faster and therefore accelerating the rate at which he was losing it.

Hutch had groaned, and his whole body had suddenly gone rigid in Starsky's arms as a wave of pain had passed through him like an electric current through a circuit.

"It's OK Hutch." Starsky had done his best to sooth his friend, instinctively holding him a little tighter as if by doing so he could somehow protect him from the pain caused by the chunks of metal which had torn their way though his fragile body. "I've got you, just hang on in there. Help will be here soon…" After a few seconds he'd felt him relax a little as the pain had subsided slightly and a few minutes had then passed during which Starsky had worked to try and control the bleeding of Hutch's wounds.

"How're doing there Frank?" He'd had asked him, noticing that the man had gone very quiet as he tore another strip of fabric from Hutch's shirt and began to pack the bullet wound in his shoulder with it. He'd realised that this was not an ideal situation – the fabric wasn't sterile and packing the wound with it carried an increased risk of serious infection – but his first priority had to be to stabilise the bleeding. He'd looked down and seen that the pressure he'd been applying to the gunshot wound in his partner's back was no longer sufficient to stem the flow of blood, as the crimson fluid had bubbled up from between his fingers, and he'd had to press down harder, prompting a yelp of pain from Hutch. A few reassuring words from Starsky seemed to have quietened his pained whimpers – but he hadn't been entirely sure that that was such a good thing.

"Still alive…" Frank had grimaced, it had become increasingly clear to Starsky that the pain had really been getting to him at this point. "You just carry on taking care of Hutch." He'd insisted.

Hutch had already started drifting in and out of consciousness by the time Frank spoke again. Starsky had tried to comfort his partner, placing a reassuring hand on his apparently uninjured shoulder. Hutch had immediately grimaced and flinched away from the contact, indicating that the gesture had caused him some significant pain. Starsky hadn't known where to touch his friend, where it wouldn't hurt.

"S…tarsk…" Frank had whispered weakly, struggling at first to vocalise the words, and with barely enough strength left now to speak. Starsky could tell by the breathy quality to his voice that he'd been using every last ounce of strength now to talk.

"Yes Frank?" He'd asked him.

"I'm dying…" The man had told him simply – his voice unnervingly calm.

"I know…"

"…wasn't your fault, you know…!" Frank had gasped. "You had to save Hutch... you did everything you could!"

"I just wish there was more I could do!" Starsky had said helplessly, the anger now beginning to rear up inside of him, as his thoughts had once again turned to wondering where the ambulance was – had anyone even called one yet he'd began to ask himself.

"…It's too late for me… you know that… don't you Starsk?" Frank had asked him.

"Yes Frank, I know…"

"It's too much for Hutch to take in at the moment… I understand that… He risked his life to save me… but you'll tell Mitzi and Lisa that I love them, won't you Starsk?"

"Don't worry Frank, I'll tell them…" He'd assured him.

"…and don't let Hutch blame himself… he will you know…"

"I know."

And Hutch had of course blamed himself, just as he was doing so now.

"Thanks Starsk…" Frank had smiled weakly.

"For what?"

"For being here… it's ok you know…"

"No it's not!" Starsky had suddenly exclaimed, his own fear starting to eat away at him, and he had been finding it increasingly difficult to keep himself from showing it. "You should be screaming and kicking and shouting that you don't want to die! This isn't fair Frank!"

"There's no dignity in that…" Frank had said.

"How can you be so matter of fact about this?" Starsky had asked him.

"Because I don't have a choice…" Frank had told him, "there is no fear when you know that it wouldn't make a difference anyway…"

"I'm frightened Frank…" Starsky had confessed. "I'm frightened because I'm not going to be able to save you, and because I might not be able to save Hutch."

"Hutch is going to be fine." His smile had widened a little.

"But how can you be so sure?" He'd asked him as he'd removed his jacket and gently placed it beneath Hutch's head to cushion his cheek, which had come to rest on the concrete ground beneath him. This had prompted a pained moan and a wince from his semi-conscious partner which had hurt Starsky's soul.

"Because it still hurts him…" Frank had explained, "and it doesn't hurt me anymore…"

Realising the significance of what Frank had just said Starsky had reached out to take his friend by the hand, giving it a light squeeze – it was already cold.

"We'll take care of them Frank… if it comes to that." He'd promised. "We'll make sure Mitzi and Lisa are alright."

In the years which had followed it was a promise he and Hutch had very much taken to heart, and had made sure to keep.

"Thank you." He'd smiled.

As Frank had closed his eyes for the final time, and breathed his last breath Starsky had finally heard the sound of sirens approaching in the distance – two separate tones, one that of an ambulance, and the other a police car. Hutch had heard them too and this seemed to have rallied him slightly. His arms had flailed at his side, and he'd opened his eyes – reaching out to take Frank's hand again, but finding only empty air.

"Frank… Frank…" He'd called out their friend's name weakly, his voice becoming a little more desperate when he'd received no response. Starsky had turned his face away from Frank's motionless form beside him and hung his head in grief – looking at the ground.

"He's gone buddy." He'd told Hutch – his voice broken by his own grief, as silent tears had started to trickle down his cheeks.

"No…" Hutch had sobbed upon hearing this. "No… Frank…" This had caused more blood to ooze from the wound in his back, and Starsky had pressed down harder to try and stem the fresh flow.

"Hutch, don't move. You need to stay still." He'd pleaded with him. Hutch's complexion had now been pale white – all the colour had drained from his cheeks and his lips had started to turn a muted grey. Starsky hadn't been sure for how much longer he could hold on to his fragile grasp on life.

"Hurts Starsk… hurts…" The blonde had choked, fighting to fill his lungs with air.

"It's ok…" Starsky had done his best to reassure him. "It's ok, I'm right here. Just hold on Hutch." 'Don't leave me now.' He'd thought to himself helplessly.

Starsky had been so focused on keeping his friend alive that he hadn't even noticed the ambulance pull up to the entrance of the ally at first. The two paramedics had quickly assessed the scene – one of them making his way over to Frank, but finding no pulse he'd then joined his partner who'd already taken over from Starsky working on Hutch. The first thing they'd done was get an IV going – Hutch had started to go into shock, and they'd immediately hooked him up to fluids to stop his internal organs from shutting down, before turning to Starsky.

"Is any of that your blood?" One of the men had asked him, and Starsky had looked down to see that not only were his hands covered in Hutch's blood, but the front of his shirt was soaked in it to, and stained crimson up to his elbows. He'd shaken his head, feeling dazed. Getting to his feet stiffly and turning around he'd seen that two police officers had already been in the process of transferring Frank's body into an awaiting body bag, and wondered for how long they had been there. He'd recognised them immediately – the men's names had been Charlie Right and Michael Peters and they'd both seemed suitably subdued – saddened by the death of their much loved colleague.

When they'd arrived at the hospital Hutch had been rushed into emergency surgery, and then – before even knowing whether or not his best friend was going to make it – Starsky had had to call Mitzi to let her know what had happened to Frank. It had been one of the hardest and most heart breaking phone calls he'd ever had to make in his life, and hearing the woman's sobs at the other end of the receiver had very nearly crushed what little had remained of his control over his own self, but she was a strong woman, and had been just as concerned about Hutch as she had been aggrieved by the death of her husband, when she'd discovered that he'd been injured too.

"Momma says that Daddy's an angel in heaven." Lisa had said with all the innocence of a child a couple of weeks later, once Hutch had been strong enough to receive visitors. Mitzi had visited the hospital everyday, even in the midst of her own grief, but Lisa had still been very young at the time and they'd all agreed that it wouldn't have been fair on either Hutch or the little girl to let her see him until he'd been well enough. "Bad men hurt him, and he couldn't come home."

"I know hunny." Hutch had nodded, cupping the little girl's cheek in his hand and struggling not to cry in front of her. Frank would not have wanted Lisa upset, and she'd already seen her mother cry.

"So God told him that he did such a good job protecting people here on earth that he wanted him to go and work for him in heaven so he didn't have to hurt anymore." She'd explained sadly. "But it's ok because he's still looking after us, even though we can't see him anymore. Momma says that we shouldn't miss him too much because he's not really gone. He never has to leave us like he had to when he went to work, and he'll make sure you get better Uncle Ken. I know he will."

The past couple of weeks had been difficult for both of them, but especially Hutch. The bullet in his shoulder had grazed the bone, causing a hairline crack from his shoulder blade to collar bone, but the bullet in his back had lodged itself near his spine. He'd had to lie flat on his back for the first few days following his surgery, causing him a lot of pain, and they'd had to try different ways of relieving the pressure on his surgical scar. Cushioning his arms and legs with soft pillows seemed to have helped a little but he'd struggled to come to terms with Frank's death – blaming himself for not reaching him in time. Mitzi had done her best to try and convince him that Frank's death hadn't been his fault – that she hadn't blamed either of them for what had happened. Her husband had died doing a job he loved, and she'd just been glad that he hadn't been alone, she'd told them.

"Thanks sweetheart." Hutch had smiled weakly.

He'd been able to sit up if well supported, but still unable to move around too much unaided. There'd still been a lot of swelling and some mild nerve damage, which the doctors had reassured him would get better in time, but Starsky had just been glad to still have him with him. Bruised and his body broken he'd faced a long and difficult recovery – and Starsky had known that the pain of Frank's death would be a lot harder to get past than any of his physical injuries, but he was confident that given time Hutch would work through his grief. The pain had still been raw and the guilt strong, but there had been a time that afternoon when Starsky had thought that he really might lose his friend. There'd been so much blood – more blood than he could have hoped to stem, and he'd known that if the paramedics hadn't arrived when they had they'd have been burying two officers, not one. Frank wouldn't have wanted that – he'd have laid down his life three times over to save a friend. Mitzi had always been as fond of the two detectives as her husband had, but they'd grown even closer in the years since his death. They'd owed it to Frank to keep on fighting, keep on living, and to keep their promise to make sure that his wife and daughter would be alright. Hutch and Lisa had become particularly close in the years following her father's death, and he had gained great comfort from the little girl's compassion in the early days.