Night And Day
Chapter 4: The Truth
Author's Notes: Black Crystall Draygon – Once again, thank you. And you'll be glad to hear, there's even more slashiness in this chapter! And hey, at least when one of the gets hurt, the other's always there to comfort, right?
Susan217 – Thank ya muchly for the review. I'm glad you're enjoying it.
Oni3 – As always, thanks a ton. I'm not sure if a sequel would work, but I could see what happens, and really there's only one more chapter after this one... sorry!
SLASH WARNING!!!! But it's GREEEAAAT!!!! Enjoy!
Hutch knew struggling against the large man who dragged him bodily along was pointless. He was three times larger, and many more times meaner. Starsky, however, continued to fight, punctuating the quiet with loud curses.
Finally having enough, Mark brought a beefy fist down on the back of his head, knocking him out.
"St-stop!" Hutch yelled, cursing himself for nearly saying his name.
Mark slung the unconscious body over his shoulder, and they moved on in silence.
Hutch tried to remember every turn they took, but as they went down to the basement of the apartment building, too many twists and turns and darkened hallways left him confused. Were they still under the building?
He was pulled to an abrupt stop, and in the dim light of the hallway, he watched Mark open a door. Hutch was shoved inside first, then Starsky, who was thrown onto the floor.
"Enjoy your new home," Mark said, then slammed the door.
Left alone in the nearly pitch-black room, Hutch went over to Starsky, cradling his head in his lap. He leaned back against the wall, running his fingers absently through the dark curls. It was always soothing to Starsky, whether he be sick or injured, and Hutch found it calmed himself, as well.
Well, he thought. At least we're together. This may be the first that's ever happened.
Sitting in the dark, Hutch looked down at his partner's battered face, felt a wave of regret wash over him. Dammit, I knew I shouldn't have kissed him. If I hadn't, he never would have walked out, and this never would have happened! He was angry, at himself for driving Starsky to leave, and at Mark for the being the bad guy.
After a short while, Hutch felt Starsky's head move.
"Hey, buddy, you with me?"
The curly-haired man groaned, and steely blue eyes opened slowly. "Hutch?"
"No, it's the Queen of England," Hutch replied warmly.
"Musta got hit harder than I thought. What h'pned?"
Hutch smiled at the slur in his voice. "You got knocked out," he explained.
"Oh."
Helping Starsky to a sitting position, Hutch looked him in the eye. "How do you feel?"
"You kinda look like my partner, your Majesty," Starsky told him, smirking.
"Well, your sense of humor's intact."
Hutch leaned back, looked around the small room. It was littered with boxes, an old mop bucket, and an array of other junk. There were no windows, but an old air vent in the ceiling. The only light poured in through the small window in the door, and even that was dim.
"Why are we sitting on the floor in a dark room?" Starsky's voice cut through his thoughts.
"Because Mark and Rocco put us here," Hutch said. "Oh, no, Starsk."
"What?"
Hutch turned to him. "Didn't you tell me they were going after Bunny?"
"We have to get the hell out of here, Hutch!"
"We're stuck," Hutch said quietly. "I heard at least three locks when he closed the door..." he trailed off, staring ahead at the door opposite where he was sitting.
The brunette struggled to his feet, still leaning heavily on the wall.
"Hey, be careful! You're still a little out of it!"
Starsky held his balance, began to pace. "If he hurts Bunny, I'll kill him," he muttered, ignoring Hutch's chiding.
"I'm already gonna kill him for hurting you."
He paused in his pacing, stared at the other man. "Hutch..."
The blond man stood. "No, don't." He grabbed Starsky by the shoulders. "I told you I wouldn't be able to watch him hurt you, and damned if I can't stand to the see the after-effects, either."
Starsky smiled lightly, though it never reached his eyes. "Hutch, what's going on with you? You know the risk is part of the job."
Hutch froze. He'd almost let it slip, and now he was being asked directly. "I just worry about you, pal, okay?"
"Worrying is fine, but you're moving to mother-hen stage."
The blond's hands slid away from Starsky's shoulders. "I didn't realize. Sorry." He turned to walk away, knowing he was doing precisely what Starsky had done earlier, but was stopped when his partner's arms came around him from behind, and he felt a warm head pressing into his back.
"Hutch," his voice was muffled as he spoke into his shirt. "I'm sorry I ran out today."
Hutch reached up to squeeze the hands clasped around his midsection. "It was my fault." He felt Starsky shaking his head.
"I didn't hafta leave. I got scared."
"Because of what happened?"
"Yeah. I know it was only for show, but still..." his voice trailed off.
Hutch stayed silent. But it wasn't for show, Starsk, he thought. It wasn't for show at all. He swallowed the lump in his throat, licked his lips. "I'm sorry I freaked you out, Gordo," he said.
The use of the nickname had Starsky grinning into Hutch's back. "S'ok, Blintz." He gave another squeeze, then stepped back.
Hutch reluctantly let go of his hands. He wanted to tell him everything, just let it all out, but he couldn't... he wouldn't. Starsky wasn't ready to hear it.
Instead, they roamed around the room, searching for something that could help them get out. Starsky leaned heavily against the door. The old wood groaned. "We might be able to bust the door down," he suggested.
Hutch nodded. "Let's give it a try."
They moved back from the door, standing close to the opposite wall. "On three," Hutch said. "Three... two—"
"Wait a minute," Starsky interrupted. "You said 'on three.' You should be counting up."
"Does it matter?"
"Yes," he told him in a serious tone. "I don't wanna hit that door alone."
"Okay, fine. I'll count up. One... two... three!"
The two charged at the door, using their shoulders to strike it. They heard a few pops and cracks, but the old wood held.
"Again?" asked Hutch.
Starsky nodded and they backed up again.
"On three again. One... two... three!"
They rushed toward the door. Halfway across the room, Starsky tripped over the mop bucket, stepping into it. Suddenly, he was sliding across the floor, hurtling toward the door, and his partner.
Hutch stopped before he hit the door, noticing Starsky wasn't beside him. He heard a sound from behind him and turned, just in time to see his partner flying toward him, his foot stuck in the old mop bucket.
Starsky uttered a yell a second before he collided into Hutch, and the two of them went crashing into the door.
The hinges on the door snapped, and it swung open, dumping them on the floor. Hutch, who had taken the worst of the fall, groaned as they landed.
Starsky opened his eyes, surprised to find himself laying on top of Hutch, and that they were in the hallway. "You okay?"
"I'll say it again, ya meathead. Lay off the beef burritos."
The other man laughed, moved to get off his partner. His foot was still stuck in the bucket, however, and when he put pressure on it, it slid sideways. Starsky lost his balance, and before he could get his hands under him, toppled onto Hutch again, this time smashing their faces together.
Aquamarine eyes went wide. Hutch suddenly realized that all he had to do was move his head slightly to the side, and they would be kissing. The temptation was there. "Starsk," he said, voice hoarse and quiet. He looked up into his partner's eyes, and was pinned motionless beneath an intense look.
"Earlier, when you kissed me," Starsky began, his voice barely above a whisper. "All I could think about was having a chance to do that again. I don't even care if it's right."
"Starsk." He had to tell him, had to say what he needed to say, but Starsky's eyes were still boring into his, and Starsky's head was turning, ever so slightly, to brush their lips together.
Hutch felt something explode inside him, decided it must be his heart. But then, what was melting?
Starsky's eyes were still on his, but the intense look was gone. Now, the cobalt blue darkened, softened, and then drifted close altogether. He pressed his lips harder to Hutch's.
Hutch allowed his own eyes to close, and had a ridiculously fleeting thought of how silly they must look, lying on a cold, dark floor, with Starsky's foot stuck in an old mop bucket. He finally relaxed, wound his arms around his partner.
Starsky felt Hutch relax into the kiss, couldn't help the relief that swam through him. He wasn't sure what brought on his boldness, but being that close to his face, to those lips, his heart had taken over, left his brain running to catch up. He hadn't expected this. He was waiting for Hutch to push him off, blame it on the head wound, but he didn't. In fact, Hutch was pulling him closer, moving his lips beneath Starsky's.
They broke away, staring at each other. Hutch broke the silence first, clearing his throat. "We have to get to Bunny," he said.
Starsky blinked, then scrambled to his feet, kicking off the bucket as he did so. He reached down, grabbed Hutch's hand and hauled him off the floor.
"How's your head?"
"Hurts," Starsky replied. "But then, so does my lip, my nose, and now my shoulder."
There was one moment of awkward silence as they stood in the hallway. The two men stared at each other, a little uncomfortable as to what had just transpired. Finally, Starsky shook his head.
"We don't have time for this right now. Bunny needs our help."
Hutch grinned at him. "Such a hero," he teased. "But you're right, we have to find our way of here, and now."
They started down the hall, moving as fast as Starsky's throbbing head would allow them. Hutch tried to recall the turns they made, took the lead since Starsky was passed out. They reached a staircase, and Starsky leaned against the wall.
"You all right?" Hutch asked.
"Feels like I got run over by a Mack Truck."
"His name is Mark," Hutch calmly explained. "And he's a bad guy."
Starsky rolled his eyes. "This has to lead up to the apartment building. I don't know where else it would take us."
"Yeah, you're right. Let's go."
The two bounded up the stairs, found that they were now on the first floor of the apartment building. They moved fast, but tried to look nonchalant, as they made their way to the elevator.
When the doors opened, they were glad to see to it was empty, and stepped onto the lift. Hutch pushed the button for the third floor, waited until the doors had closed before he spoke.
"We'll head to the apartment, call Dobey, and grab our guns."
"Maybe I should just go up, and leave you to the details," Starsky suggested, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
"Hell no, Starsk. You're not going up there without backup."
Resigned, Starsky followed Hutch to the apartment. Hutch grabbed the phone right away, while the other ran into the bedroom to get their guns.
"Cap'n? It's Hutch. Starsky and I know the identity of the murderer, and we need backup. He's going after someone right now. Yeah... yeah.. okay. Good." He replaced the receiver just as his partner came out of the bedroom, handed him his holster. "Dobey's sending some units. Let's go bust him."
"With pleasure," Starsky said. They ran out of the room and up the stairs to the fourth floor. They reached Bunny's door in silence, one on either side. Starsky pressed his ear to it, heard the sound of punches landing. He nodded to Hutch, who nodded back.
Starsky kicked on the door, yelling "Police!" as loud as he could. They heard the shuffling of feet, and things in the apartment being knocked over. Hutch jumped in front of the door, kicking it open. As they ran in, they saw Rocco and Mark climbing out the window. Mark paused to stare at them.
"How the hell did you two get out of the room?" he demanded.
"It doesn't matter. What matters is, we're cops," Hutch told him, pulling out his badge, "and you're under arrest."
"Like hell!" Mark said, and disappeared out the window.
Hutch ran after him, and Starsky ran over to the fallen Bunny, who was lying on the floor.
"Bunny, Bunny!" He knelt on the floor, gently shook the man's shoulder. "Are you all right?"
The thinner man stirred. "Dave? Yeah, yeah, I'm okay." He opened one eye, stared dazedly around the room.
Starsky felt a swell of pity for him. He was beaten pretty badly, and probably had several broken ribs. "Okay, you just stay there. Ken and I will be back."
Bunny just nodded, and passed out again.
Starsky raised his gun, started for the window. He heard shots, looked out quickly. Hutch was still on the fire escape, firing at Rocco, who had produced a gun from somewhere.
"Hutch!" he called.
The other man looked up briefly. "Starsk, Mark went up to the roof. Go after him. I'll handle this."
"You sure?"
"Yes, now go!"
Starsky ran back through the apartment, out into the hall. He bolted for the stairwell, and took the steps two at a time up to the roof. Once at the door, he paused, took several deep breaths. Then he turned, kicked the door open, and crouched with his gun held before him.
His eyes widened at a metal lawn chair that was flying toward his head. He jumped to the side, clumsily rolling out of the way, as the chair slammed into the stairwell. Hearing footsteps, he glanced up just in time to see Mark running at him, knife brandishing in his right hand.
Grabbing for his gun, he nearly froze when he couldn't find it. He rolled again, away from the large ape-like man coming at him, and felt the cold steel touch his hand. He raised it quickly, leveling the barrel at Mark."Drop it," he said, his voice low and dangerous.
Mark stopped short, let the knife fall from his hand. It clattered to the rooftop. He held his hands up, wanting so badly to try to take the man's head off.
"So, you're cops, are ya?" he asked. "I knew there was a reason I hated you, pig."
"Yeah? That's nice. I wasn't plannin' on askin' you out for coffee or anything," Starsky told him, climbing to his feet. "Especially now that you'll be spending a nice long time in jail."
As Starsky held his gun on Mark, not quite sure how to even begin to cuff the large man, who could pop his head off like a zit, Hutch was still on the fire escape, waiting for the backup that should have been there by now.
Rocco was concealed behind a car on the ground, and he behind the bars of the landing. Hutch muttered a thousand "Thank you's" as he heard the sirens nearing. He looked down to the ground. Rocco was glancing down the street, then back up at Hutch, probably wondering if he could make a run for it. When he tried, Hutch fired again, stopping the man from going anywhere. Giving the detective a wilting look, Rocco fired off another shot, and got lucky. Hutch felt the bullet enter his arm, and exit out the back. He uttered a yell, dropped his gun. When the uniforms finally pulled up to Rocco, he dropped his gun and surrendered.
Hutch grasped his arm, felt warm blood slick his hand. Gotta get to Starsk, he thought, jumping up from his crouching position. He retrieved his gun with his left hand, started up the steps to the roof.
He saw Starsky holding his gun on Mark, and Mark who seemed to be weighing whether or not he could take the much smaller man.
Hutch shoved his gun into his pants. He came up behind Mark, grabbed a thick wrist. "Don't try it, Mark. Starsk's got a hell of an aim." He wrenched the man's arm behind his back, feeling more than a bit of satisfaction as he yelled in pain. "Starsk, need a hand here."
His partner kept his gun trained on Mark, walked around him. "Hutch! You're shot!"
"I know I'm shot, that's why I need a hand." Between the two of them, they cuffed Mark, gave him a shove toward the door. Hutch looked at Starsky. "Are you all right?"
Starsky lifted a shoulder. "Yeah, I'm good. Almost got assaulted by a chair, though." He paused for a moment, then reached out to tug Hutch's jacket down. "Ew, that looks nasty."
"Let's take him in and book him."
"Uh-uh," Starsky said, shaking his head. "The blues can book him. You're going to the hospital."
TBC....
