Disclaimer: I don't own Starsky or Hutch or the Torino. Shame really, but that's how life is. I do however own the right to complain if anyone tells me I have no write to right this. That I will have to fight people over
He was coughing before he even realised he was awake. He opened his eyes slightly, but was forced to close them again as the coughing got worse. It got to the point where he could barely breath in between vicious hacks. The action made the pounding in his head, which had started out as a manageable ache; escalate to the point where he thought his head was going to explode. He tried feebly to move either one of his hands, so he could hold his chest, but they wouldn't move. He tried again, but it struck him than that his hands were tied behind his back and he was sitting on a hard cold surface.
"Look at me detective" A voice said sternly. A bright light flashed in Starsky's eyes, but they were still closed. A hand roughly grabbed his chin and forced his head up. The hand was removed, but it moved up his face to his right eye and forced it open. The light shone directly into it. He tried to squint against it, but the fingers holding his eye open wouldn't allow it. The light made the pain in his head ten times worse.
"Look at me" The voice repeated. The light was too bright and all Starsky could see was a blur hovering behind the light. The fingers allowed his eye to close, but moved on to his left one, prising that open and shining the light into it. His coughing had eased up a little, now just a painful wheeze.
"Who are you?" He gasped, but his simple question brought on a mild fit of coughing.
"I'll ask the questions" Was his only reply. The fingers let go of his left eye allowing it to close and the light disappeared. Starsky slowly opened both his eyes to tiny slits, but it wasn't enough to get a good enough look at the figure before him. The only thing he could make out was the figure was male, judging by the voice and the size and roughness of his hands. He opened his eyes a little further and could just make out the man's face. By what he could tell he had very short brown hair, but his features were still a blur.
"What is your name?" The man asked. Starsky frowned.
"Why you want to know," Starsky replied in a horse voice "Afraid you got the wrong man". The answer was rewarded with his left eye being prised fully open again and the light returning.
"This is not a game, what is your name?" Starsky vaguely figured out why the man might be asking such questions, but he didn't want to take the risk.
"Hutchinson, what's it to ya?" The light was turned off once more.
"How many fingers am I holding up?" The man asked. Starsky squint at the fingers that were placed in his line of vision, but they were still too much of a blur. He tried focusing on them, but the more he tried the more his head hurt.
"Three." He said with little certainty.
"No concussion" The man whispered just loud enough for Starsky to hear, but it sounded as though he was talking to himself.
"That's terrific." Starsky mumbled. He felt another bout of coughing come on and with it he suddenly remembered what had happened before he passed out. The fire. Hutch's oven blowing up.
"Where's my partner?" He asked frantically. The man grunted and got to his feet without answering. "Who are you and what do you want with me?" Starsky asked firmly. The man walked out of his line of vision, but judging by his footsteps he didn't go very far.
"You're dead," the man said bluntly.
Hot flames, creeping, crawling towards him, licking at his skin, singing his flesh. He tried to move away, tried to get to the door at the other end of the room, but the flames kept him back, forced him away from the safety of the outside world. He tried to call for help, but the thick smoke clogged his throat and the only sound he could make was a feeble wheeze. His eyes saw nothing but red flicking fire, all he could hear was crackling and hissing.
He tried once again to call out for help and this time he managed to get out a weak cry.
"Starsky," he cried, His only reply was a roar from behind, the fire was spreading all around him, blocking any chance of escape. It wasn't long before it turned on him, eating away at his flesh and clothes to feed its undying appetite.
In the distance he saw a flicker of movement. From his position all he could make out was the out line of person, standing by the door.
He tried to call out to them, to get their attention, but a nasty bout of coughing kept his words at bay.
The figure drifted towards him, the fire clearing a path for him. As he got closer Hutch could make out clearly whom the man was.
"Starsky" He whispered, right before choking on the words. His friend stopped a few inches before him, the fire finally wrapping around his body, burning away his flesh.
"It's too late Hutch," Starsky said right before his entire body was engulfed in flames.
"NOOOO" Hutch yelled, sitting bolt up right in bed, breathing so hard he almost started hyperventilating. His eyes scanned the room he found himself in. The smell combined with the sterile cleanness of the room was enough to tell him that he was in a hospital room.
"Why?" He thought, but it all came flooding back to him, the fire, the body, and the rings on the little finger.
"Oh please no" He whispered. He threw the covers off himself and scooted across the bed to dangle his legs over the side, but before he could place his feet on the ground Dobey entered the room holding a cup of coffee.
"Good to see you're awake" He said in a soft voice that he reserved for moments like this.
"Did I dream it Captain?" Hutch asked his desperate blue eyes burned into Dobey forcing the older man to look at the ground.
"You should lie back down, you're still in shock" Hutch didn't move, he just stared at his Captain.
"Tell me," He said firmly, but with a slight quiver.
"I'm afraid it wasn't a dream" He said a little quieter. "I just got off the phone with the coroner. According to the dental records, the body was...it was Starsky"
There was a moment of silence; the steady sound of Dobey's breathing was the only noise. Hutch wasn't breathing, his arms were shaking so bad they were close to collapsing along with the rest of his body.
Dobey was at his side, before his arms gave up on him. He placed his hands under Hutch's armpit and eased him back down on the bed.
"I'm sorry Hutch" Dobey said softly. Hutch never heard the words; his world was fading around him being replaced by the image of Starsky's burnt body and the fire.
"It was my fault," He whispered, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
"It was an accident," Dobey said. He had read the report the fireman had given him. The oven had short-circuited; sending up sparks that set the place on fire. "You can't blame yourself" Hutch still couldn't hear the man. The same thoughts kept going round in his head.
"I killed my partner. My best friend"
Dobey placed a hand on the young detectives shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
"Hutch, you have to listen to me," Dobey said, trying to assert some of his usual authority into his voice, but barely succeeded. "It was not your fault, it was an accident. You did not kill him, do you hear me. It is not your fault" Hutch's eyes didn't move from the ceiling, his hands lay limp at his side. Dobey didn't like it.
"Can you hear me...Hutch" There was no response. He shook Hutch's shoulder a little too roughly. Hutch made no move, not even a twitch. Coming to the conclusion that he was not getting a response Dobey gave a sigh of defeat and left the room in search of some help.
TBC
He was coughing before he even realised he was awake. He opened his eyes slightly, but was forced to close them again as the coughing got worse. It got to the point where he could barely breath in between vicious hacks. The action made the pounding in his head, which had started out as a manageable ache; escalate to the point where he thought his head was going to explode. He tried feebly to move either one of his hands, so he could hold his chest, but they wouldn't move. He tried again, but it struck him than that his hands were tied behind his back and he was sitting on a hard cold surface.
"Look at me detective" A voice said sternly. A bright light flashed in Starsky's eyes, but they were still closed. A hand roughly grabbed his chin and forced his head up. The hand was removed, but it moved up his face to his right eye and forced it open. The light shone directly into it. He tried to squint against it, but the fingers holding his eye open wouldn't allow it. The light made the pain in his head ten times worse.
"Look at me" The voice repeated. The light was too bright and all Starsky could see was a blur hovering behind the light. The fingers allowed his eye to close, but moved on to his left one, prising that open and shining the light into it. His coughing had eased up a little, now just a painful wheeze.
"Who are you?" He gasped, but his simple question brought on a mild fit of coughing.
"I'll ask the questions" Was his only reply. The fingers let go of his left eye allowing it to close and the light disappeared. Starsky slowly opened both his eyes to tiny slits, but it wasn't enough to get a good enough look at the figure before him. The only thing he could make out was the figure was male, judging by the voice and the size and roughness of his hands. He opened his eyes a little further and could just make out the man's face. By what he could tell he had very short brown hair, but his features were still a blur.
"What is your name?" The man asked. Starsky frowned.
"Why you want to know," Starsky replied in a horse voice "Afraid you got the wrong man". The answer was rewarded with his left eye being prised fully open again and the light returning.
"This is not a game, what is your name?" Starsky vaguely figured out why the man might be asking such questions, but he didn't want to take the risk.
"Hutchinson, what's it to ya?" The light was turned off once more.
"How many fingers am I holding up?" The man asked. Starsky squint at the fingers that were placed in his line of vision, but they were still too much of a blur. He tried focusing on them, but the more he tried the more his head hurt.
"Three." He said with little certainty.
"No concussion" The man whispered just loud enough for Starsky to hear, but it sounded as though he was talking to himself.
"That's terrific." Starsky mumbled. He felt another bout of coughing come on and with it he suddenly remembered what had happened before he passed out. The fire. Hutch's oven blowing up.
"Where's my partner?" He asked frantically. The man grunted and got to his feet without answering. "Who are you and what do you want with me?" Starsky asked firmly. The man walked out of his line of vision, but judging by his footsteps he didn't go very far.
"You're dead," the man said bluntly.
Hot flames, creeping, crawling towards him, licking at his skin, singing his flesh. He tried to move away, tried to get to the door at the other end of the room, but the flames kept him back, forced him away from the safety of the outside world. He tried to call for help, but the thick smoke clogged his throat and the only sound he could make was a feeble wheeze. His eyes saw nothing but red flicking fire, all he could hear was crackling and hissing.
He tried once again to call out for help and this time he managed to get out a weak cry.
"Starsky," he cried, His only reply was a roar from behind, the fire was spreading all around him, blocking any chance of escape. It wasn't long before it turned on him, eating away at his flesh and clothes to feed its undying appetite.
In the distance he saw a flicker of movement. From his position all he could make out was the out line of person, standing by the door.
He tried to call out to them, to get their attention, but a nasty bout of coughing kept his words at bay.
The figure drifted towards him, the fire clearing a path for him. As he got closer Hutch could make out clearly whom the man was.
"Starsky" He whispered, right before choking on the words. His friend stopped a few inches before him, the fire finally wrapping around his body, burning away his flesh.
"It's too late Hutch," Starsky said right before his entire body was engulfed in flames.
"NOOOO" Hutch yelled, sitting bolt up right in bed, breathing so hard he almost started hyperventilating. His eyes scanned the room he found himself in. The smell combined with the sterile cleanness of the room was enough to tell him that he was in a hospital room.
"Why?" He thought, but it all came flooding back to him, the fire, the body, and the rings on the little finger.
"Oh please no" He whispered. He threw the covers off himself and scooted across the bed to dangle his legs over the side, but before he could place his feet on the ground Dobey entered the room holding a cup of coffee.
"Good to see you're awake" He said in a soft voice that he reserved for moments like this.
"Did I dream it Captain?" Hutch asked his desperate blue eyes burned into Dobey forcing the older man to look at the ground.
"You should lie back down, you're still in shock" Hutch didn't move, he just stared at his Captain.
"Tell me," He said firmly, but with a slight quiver.
"I'm afraid it wasn't a dream" He said a little quieter. "I just got off the phone with the coroner. According to the dental records, the body was...it was Starsky"
There was a moment of silence; the steady sound of Dobey's breathing was the only noise. Hutch wasn't breathing, his arms were shaking so bad they were close to collapsing along with the rest of his body.
Dobey was at his side, before his arms gave up on him. He placed his hands under Hutch's armpit and eased him back down on the bed.
"I'm sorry Hutch" Dobey said softly. Hutch never heard the words; his world was fading around him being replaced by the image of Starsky's burnt body and the fire.
"It was my fault," He whispered, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
"It was an accident," Dobey said. He had read the report the fireman had given him. The oven had short-circuited; sending up sparks that set the place on fire. "You can't blame yourself" Hutch still couldn't hear the man. The same thoughts kept going round in his head.
"I killed my partner. My best friend"
Dobey placed a hand on the young detectives shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
"Hutch, you have to listen to me," Dobey said, trying to assert some of his usual authority into his voice, but barely succeeded. "It was not your fault, it was an accident. You did not kill him, do you hear me. It is not your fault" Hutch's eyes didn't move from the ceiling, his hands lay limp at his side. Dobey didn't like it.
"Can you hear me...Hutch" There was no response. He shook Hutch's shoulder a little too roughly. Hutch made no move, not even a twitch. Coming to the conclusion that he was not getting a response Dobey gave a sigh of defeat and left the room in search of some help.
TBC
