"The disposition of noble dogs is to be gentle with people they know and the opposite with those they don't know... How, then, can the dog be anything other than a lover of learning since it defines what is its own and what's alien."

Plato

David Starsky was very familiar with the process of returning to consciousness. First everything was black and peaceful. You floated inside your own head for a while, like a jellyfish suspended in the ocean. There may be voices, depending on where you were and if anyone had found you. Starsky always relaxed when he heard Hutch's voice. He didn't hear that now.

Next, came the pain. Memories. Awareness.

Starsky groaned, then winced as his own voice bounced around his skull with the grace of a dropped bowling ball. He was cold. His sore muscles trembled as his body fought for heat. His arm was throbbing with an agonizing force. His head felt like Captain Dobey sat on it.

Starsky blinked his eyes open and panicked as darkness enveloped him still. Had he been knocked on the head with enough force to blind him? With the frightening thought of prematurely retiring from the force due to a handicap earned from camping, he struggled to get up. His hands sank into something sandy and pliable before a bolt of fire raced up his left arm.

'The cave' he remembered, cradling his arm on his lap and rocking in time with the throbbing pain. 'Earthquake. Falling rocks. Hutch.'

"Hutch?" Starsky called out. The darkness was lifting and Starsky tried to illustrate his relief with a smile. He could now make out shapes, though the clouded air rendered him with an uneasy feeling. There was no reply, or if there was, it was concealed by the hoarse coughing fit that suddenly wracked Starsky.

When he could breathe again, his eyes had watered enough to clear them of the dust and he could now see weak sunlight valiantly stabbing it's way through the rock wall behind him. The rocks had crumbled all around him, some on him, and created a tiny pocket of space. 'Cage', Starsky corrected himself grimly. He would kill whose-ever idea this was.

"Hutch!"

A whimper filtered through the rocks from his side opposite the sunlight. Starsky swallowed. If that pathetic sound was from Hutch, they were all in deep trouble. "Gordo?" he called, feeling silly despite the dire circumstances.

A bark shattered the eerie silence, causing a shimmering sprinkling of dust to fall and Starsky breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't alone. Then he realized that he was in fact, still missing Hutch. "Now would be a good time for you to come around," Starsky called, pushing his voice to make it sound light-hearted. It was hard.

Starsky's blood pressure rose with every second that Hutch did not respond. What if he was hurt badly? What if he were dead?

As soon as the thought blossomed in his head, Starsky began to dig single-handedly. He had to get to his partner- his best friend. His left arm was clearly broken, as he noticed with a strange disembodiment. It didn't hurt very much at the moment, although the bone was very close to poking through the flesh of his forearm. Adrenaline was a lovely thing.

Starsky began pulling the rocks down one by one, wincing and swearing as a wrong choice sent several stones crashing near his knees. There was not enough room to stand up- to hardly move at all- and un-stacking the heavy stones was proving to be a challenge. There was no choice but to keep going, for the sake of both their lives. And maybe the dog's.

"Starsky?"

The weak shadow of Hutch's voice grabbed Starsky's attention mid-pull. "Hutch?" he responded, letting go of the rock and moving his ear to the wall dividing them. "Are you alright?"

There was a cough. "Yeah, I'm alive."

Starsky rolled his eyes. "That wasn't the question Blintz."

Hutch groaned, and from the sound of it, eighty percent was out of irritation. Yes, Starsky knew his partner that well.

"My leg hurts," came the soft admission. There was silence, then a small yelp. "I think it's broken. You?"

"Um…" Starsky started, looking at the sharp lump under the skin on his forearm. "I think you may have to type up the reports for a while."

"Didn't I get you a self-help book for left-handers?"

"I sold it."

There was a small chuckle and Starsky smiled at the strained sound. "I bet you did, Starsk."

Starsky sat back what little amount he could and let his gaze wander over the wall he had been working at. His miniscule progress was spotlighted by the thin ray of sunlight shining between the rocks behind him. "I can see light. I'm going to get you free then we're going to get out of here and get help."

"Don't bring the place down on yourself," Hutch warned. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"I'm getting us out of here," Starsky smiled, grabbing another rock and pushing it aside. "I think those ugly stalagmite-thingies stopped the ceiling from squishing us like grapes."

"Starsky, that's disgusting."

"I don't like grapes."

In the following beat of silence, Starsky knew Hutch was rolling his eyes. "How's the dog?" he asked in an attempt to take his mind off the pain that was growing behind his eyes again.

"I think he's alright, he's licking my hand."

"You'll get worms," Starsky warned, recalling the one bit of veterinary advice he knew. His arm was beginning to throb violently now, beating a matching pace with his temple. However, his hopes grew when he moved a rock and created a hole large enough for his hand to fit through. Now they were getting somewhere.

"I don't intend on drinking his slobber, even if I did think he had worms. Which he doesn't."

"He might."

"Why don't you just get us out of here."

Another large stone fell to the ground, widening the opening. "I'm working on it," Starsky replied, his voice hopeful. "You could help you know."

There was a pause just long enough for Starsky to get scared. Then, "Yeah. Okay."

"You sure you're okay?" Starsky questioned. His small space was quickly filling with discarded rocks.

"Just dandy."

"Why do I not believe you?" Starsky grumbled. The opening was widening faster now that he had Hutch's help, but progress was still not as fast as he would have liked.

At last, nearly ten minutes later and his hands rough and bleeding with scrapes, they had created an opening large enough to pass through. The air was thick with floating dust once again and Starsky knew that it was weighing down his curls, ruining his good looks. He would appreciate a shower when they were out of this mess.

He smiled upon seeing his partner alive and panting in front of him. A fairly deep cut was slowly oozing shiny, dark blood down Hutch's left cheek. His left arm hung limply at his side and, as already known, Hutch's right leg appeared to be broken.

"You look horrible."

Hutch's eyes flashed momentarily as he huffed. "Same to you, Gordo."

Starsky's gaze fell to the four-legged audience, then lifted again. "You talkin' to me or him?" he asked, because sometimes, he did learn his lesson.

Hutch chuckled. "You, turkey."

Starsky pretended to be hurt so that some sort of normalcy would be felt. "If anyone's a turkey, it's you for getting me into this mess."

"Getting you into this?" Hutch retorted. "You're saying that I dragged you into this God-forsaken cave then ordered an earthquake to hit? Is it getting darker in here?"

Starsky took a moment to switch thought-trains with his partner. He looked around the small area of precariously stacked rock. The delicate light that had been shinning from behind had seemed to have dimmed. He looked questioningly at Hutch.

"Storm," Hutch supplied, his face reminiscent of all the other times he hated to be right. "We better move fast."

Starsky looked down at his injured arm.

"Well, as fast a possible."

The dog cried. It lay against Hutch's injured leg in the Sphinx position. With shiny orange eyes it dared Starsky cause his blond human further pain.

That was one request Starsky would gladly grant the canine. "Seems like you got yourself a guard dog," he said.

Hutch lay his hand on the dog's rump. "Shall I tell him the position's already taken?"

Starsky smiled and shook his head, turning around to face the wall of rock, their only hindrance to the outside world. To freedom.

To a hospital.

As soon as he grabbed his first stone and freed it from the pile, Hutch was beside him. They worked in silence for a few minutes, Starsky watching Hutch out of the corner of his eye. Hutch's left arm was still hanging at his side, unmoving. If it was broken, they would match.

"What happened to you arm?" Starsky inquired, trying to sound nonchalant.

They continued pulling stones single-handedly as Hutch answered- as equally nonchalant, "My shoulder's dislocated."

"What?" Starsky dropped the rock from his right hand and spun to face Hutch, the movement grinding his broken radius and ulna together under the skin. He grimaced to purposely make Hutch feel guilty. "Hutch, when I asked if you were hurt, I meant like, anywhere."

"You couldn't have done anything," Hutch shrugged, continuing to disassemble the wall. "Besides, it's numb right now."

"But still, I-"

"Just dig," Hutch commanded gently. "I don't wanna be stuck in the rain."

Starsky shot Hutch his best 'You're-playing-the-hero-and-I-hate-it' look, but his efforts went unnoticed save for the dog. The dog merely gave Starsky a look that said 'You'd better just do as he says.'

"If it's any consolation," Hutch started, and Starsky thought maybe Hutch did feel guilty, "I'm going to let you put it back in place once we're out of here."

"Me?" Starsky exclaimed, although he kept enough composure to keep digging, "Why me?"

"Because in a little while it will start to hurt and external rotation is the quickest and easiest way to fix it."

"External what?"

"Don't worry about it, I'll tell you what to do when the time comes. How's your arm?"

"Broken."

"Hurt much?"

"Like hell."

Hutch smiled sadly. "I am sorry that I drug you away from TV and cars and women to get buried in a cave with me."

"Hey, don't worry about it. It was my pleasure." Then because he couldn't resist, Starsky added, "I owe you one."

They continued digging in companionable silence.