A/N: Mention of child abuse- nothing graphic.

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A chorus of disgusted sounds filled the warehouse as Hutch coughed up even more red sputum and tried to keep his head above the mess. He glanced up to Starsky, who was watching with terrified, sympathetic eyes.

During that brief contact, for the first time ever, Hutch doubted they would make it out of this alive.

o0O0o

"Get them outta here," David spat in disgust. "Throw 'em in with the girl and be sure to lock the door after ya."

Hutch's attention was wavering, but mention of the girl tugged him back to the present. He looked up, watching as David turned his back on them and returned to the crate where the camera was sitting. As David picked up the rather expensive camera, Mike and Gary stepped forward.

Hutch found himself being hauled to his feet in one swift, gravity-defying move. Next to him, Starsky ground out, "Go easy on him!"

Mike gripped Hutch by the bicep and pushed him back against the wall as the heavier man bent to slice the rope binding Hutch's feet. Hutch felt the rope snap and soon afterwards, his numb feet began to tingle painfully. He wondered if it were possible to obtain permanent damage from being tied up so tightly.

"Get a move on," Mike said gruffly, grabbing Hutch's injured elbow and giving the detective a firm shove.

Hutch stumbled a bit but caught himself. His right knee refused to bear any weight, leaving him with a horribly unsteady, limping gait. His still-bound hands rose a little to help balance himself and Hutch wondered, how exactly, would he possibly escape even if he weren't tied up?

They were moving deeper into the warehouse. The sunlight was fading as if it were afraid of what lay up ahead. Overhead, the few light bulbs that weren't broken struggled to light the expansive rooms. The stacks of wooden crates grew taller and taller, piled high against the concrete walls and Hutch wondered once again what they might contain. This place smelled of dust and mold and dead something, and the smell was only getting stronger as they moved into another room.

Their footsteps echoed on the cold, gritty floor. Hutch shivered and swallowed the small amount of blood that had gathered in his mouth. The bleeding seemed to have slowed, and for that, Hutch was grateful. Whatever damage had been done would have to wait. He could still move his injured arm, which meant that it had not been dislocated. The burn on his shoulder throbbed and stung, demanding attention that it would have to wait to receive. His headache must have sensed that it was no longer the only worrisome injury, for it receded to a more tolerable level.

Hutch risked a glance at Starsky. The burnet was a fighter, always had been and always would be. That familiar look of determination was set in Starsky's face as he limped in the direction his captor prodded. Hutch wondered how many of Starsky's toes had been broken and how badly.

"Alright boys, we're here. Say hello to your new home."

Mike pulled on Hutch's elbow, effectively stopping the detective. Before them stood a large, chain link enclosure. The rusty but in-tact fencing stood a menacing eight feet tall, making Hutch swallow as he tilted his head back to look at the top. There was another panel of chain link covering the top, securing the area completely. The back wall was concrete. Hutch's tired brain did a quick calculation, estimating the total area to be about 20 feet by ten feet. Inside the large pen sat several oil tanks, dusty with neglect. Why would someone need to secure heavy metal drums of oil?

Mike produced a key from his back pocket and used it to unlock a heavy gold padlock that was dangling from the fork latch, then yanked it from the gate. With a jingle and a slow screech, the chain link gate was pulled open, scraping over the floor as it moved outward.

"Get in," Mike ordered, moving aside and fixing a lethal stare at Hutch.

Wordlessly, Hutch obeyed. He returned the cold stare with one of his own as he moved past Mike and into the enclosure, feeling very much like mindless cattle. He stopped just inside the fence and watched as Starsky limped through the gate behind him. There would be no heroic escapes just yet.

As soon as Starsky was over the threshold, Mike slammed the gate shut, rattling the entire enclosure. Hutch blinked as dirt and dead insects rained down on them.

"Don't look so down, boys," Gary laughed from the other side of the fence. "Your little cop friends will have you back before too long, after we're on our way to the border."

Mike reattached the padlock and secured it, then gave it an experimental tug. "Yeah, you don't got nothing to worry about."

Hutch felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise. There was something about Mike that set him on edge, something unexplainably evil. He swallowed some more blood and held his tongue.

"You're not gonna get away with this," Starsky said as he hobbled towards the fence. "You let us go now and we might be able to cut you a deal."

"You might not," Gary snorted. "People say all kinda of things when they're knocked around and caged up."

"You're really willing to go down with this guy?" Starsky pushed.

"Family sticks together," Gary replied. He began to turn away. "I suggest you two get comfortable. You're gonna be there awhile."

Hutch watched as the thugs turned and walked away, finally turning a corner and disappearing completely. With a sigh of defeat, he turned towards Starsky.

Starsky turned his head and looked at Hutch as his shoulder's slumped. "Well…" he trailed off.

"Here we are."

Hutch looked around them. Metal bars reinforced the chain link in a grid pattern, and the fencing had been secured to the concrete with heavy bolts and braces. Cobwebs draped delicately over the panel above their heads. The enclosure was positioned in the corner of the large room, although large crates and plumbing obscured the view of their surroundings. Even the dirty windows were too far away to be of any use.

Hutch watched as Starsky gave the chain link a tug. It clattered against itself as if moved, but otherwise remained strong.

Just as he was about to lower himself to the floor, Hutch heard a small sound. A whimper? He reached out and placed a hand on Starsky's arm, stilling the burnet's movements.

There it was again, magnified by the quiet and acoustics of the warehouse. Hutch let his hand fall away as he turned in the direction of the distressed sound.

"April?" he called out gently, partly because his lungs refused to cooperate and expand properly.

Starsky was at his heels, limping quietly as they moved around the large stack of metal drums. Hutch moved slowly in combination of pain and worry for what state they might find the little girl in. He and Starsky of all people knew how evil humans could be. The thought twisted in his gut.

The sniffle gave her away. Hutch moved towards the sound and bent down, catching himself with his tied hands as his knee gave out. April flinched at the sudden movement and withdrew into the small corner she had already pressed herself into.

Her dark brown hair was tangled and lifted in places, indicating the hardships she had already endured. Her face was relatively unmarked and her pale skin contrasted a pair of liquid brown eyes. She was wearing the remnants of a soft pink nightshirt bearing the colorful image of Scooby Doo. Her clothing was torn and filthy, not unlike the rest of her, and her feet were bare and calloused.

It was then that Hutch remembered to smile. A soft grin lit his face as he shifted his weight rather ungracefully, plopping down in front of her. "April?" he asked again, caught between giving the young girl her space and scooping her off the cold floor.

Starsky knelt down beside him. "It's okay sweetie, we're police men. We're not going to hurt you. Can you come out?"

April's eyes were large as she studied the bruised and bleeding men before her. Her knobby knees and elbows were drawn up tightly against her, only partially hiding her small shivers.

Hutch's own pains faded as he noticed the rope burns on the child's wrists and ankles. What kind of men needed to tie up a sixty-pound nine year old girl? What kind of men kidnapped children in the first place?

"April, are you hurt?" Hutch asked softly as he inched closer. The girl tensed but remained mute. "Come on out of there so we can help you," he tried, reaching out towards her slowly.

Wide, wet eyes watched the man before her. Then, as a river breaking through a cracked dam, April's weak resolve crumbled.

In a flurry of brown hair and Scooby Doo, April exploded from her crevice and threw herself against Hutch, knocking him backwards into Starsky. Muffled sobs tore through her bony frame as she pressed her face against Hutch's breast bone. The pain was immense and Hutch stifled a cough, but he only drew the girl tighter, lowering his bound arms over her head and hugging her firmly.

Hutch lowered his chin to rest upon April's warm head as he locked gazes with Starsky. Starsky was concerned, but also vengeful, and a new fire lit within those cobalt eyes.

Hutch closed his eyes briefly, simply feeling the small girl huddled against him, then looked back at Starsky with a new determination growing within his own eyes.

They would rescue this child or die trying.

o0O0o

"You lock the gate?" David asked gruffly, not even looking up as Mike and Gary returned.

"Of course," Mike spat.

"You sure it's okay to put them with the kid?" Gary asked, moving to stand across from David.

David stopped winding the film and glared at him. "What are they gonna do? There's no way outta that thing."

Gary shrugged and backed up. "Okay."

Satisfied, David opened the camera back and removed the roll of film. "I'm gonna take this and make sure it gets into the proper hands. You two grab the dead cops and ditch them and the cars. Think you can handle that?"

"Sure," Gary replied as Mike looked rather indignant. "But do we have to trash the Torino? I think she'd fetch a good chunk of change, pretty as she is."

David pocketed the film and thought for a minute. It was a nice car, but also very flashy. It would surely be noticed by someone and raise suspicions. But… "Pull it in back with the others. We'll repaint it and sell it once we move 'em to the border."

Gary grinned. "Sure thing."

David looked at his watch. The truck would arrive later tonight, and loading all the cars would take some time. He really didn't want to stay in this filthy warehouse any longer than necessary. Sunny Mexico was sounding better all the time and he was thankful once again for deciding to move shop. "Alright, move quick. As soon as you're done, get back here and check on the cops, got it?"

"We're gonna off 'em, right?"

"Not until I say!" David snapped, and Gary took another step back. "Just… make sure they don't get any ideas, understand?"

"Sure," Gary replied.

"Great. Now go."

o0O0o

Hutch leaned back against the gritty wall and settled April in his lap as best as he could. Starsky was sitting beside him, so closely that their shoulders touched. Their legs were outstretched before them and there bounds hands resting in their respective laps. There was no need to ask how the other was doing; Hutch could sense Starsky was in pain and he knew the concern was reciprocated. Although the knowledge frustrated Hutch, there wasn't a damn thing he could do to ease his friend's pain.

April had fallen asleep shortly after finding comfort in Hutch's embrace. Unable to move out from under her, Starsky helped settle the pair before virtually collapsing himself. The two sat in companionable silence for a while, content on listening to the soft sounds of a child breathing.

The cold concrete numbed the burn on Hutch's shoulder and the steady ache in his head. The minor relief was welcomed, and Hutch relaxed against the wall a little further. Soon the pain in his knee faded as well as the coldness seeped from the floor and into his bones. April's warmth on his chest eased some of the tension there, though the pressure on his lungs made it difficult to draw a full breath.

"Hemoptysis," he murmured as his eyelids drooped. "Hemo means 'blood', ptysis means 'to spit'." Funny how buried knowledge returned in times of need.

"What?" Starsky asked, opening his eyes and turning his head. "You okay?"

Hutch swallowed. "I'm fine. I've got a beautiful girl in my arms and my partner by my side. What more could a guy ask for?" A weak cough rattled his lungs and burned his ribs.

"Freedom," Starsky replied. "That'd be nice. And a couple of girls our own age."

"Can't argue that." Hutch closed his eyes and rested his chin on April's head. Now that his pain had dulled, sleep was pulling hard.

"Hey Hutch?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell me what happened before. Why finding April was so important to you."

Hutch opened his eyes at that and turned towards Starsky's imploring gaze. "It's nothing," he tried, then realized he had promised to talk.

"It's something," Starsky argued. "I wanna know."

April stirred but continued sleeping. Hutch lowered his voice as he started quietly, "It was a long time ago. I was just out of the academy on one of my first assignments." He tried to straighten against the wall but a flash of pain in his knee halted his movements. "A five year old girl had been taken by a couple of scum bags, right off the swing set. The mother was talking with her friends on the other side of the playground. She saw it happen but couldn't do anything. She watched as her daughter was tossed into a van before the guys drove away." Hutch tried to draw in a breath and fought the tickle in his throat. "The girl's name was Hope."

Starsky let out a soft sigh and leaned a little more on his partner, letting the contact between them speak.

"Susan was a widow. She had been married less than a year before her husband was killed in a car accident. Hope was all she had left. Her eyes… they were so lost." Hutch looked to his friend for the courage to continue. "It became personal. Everyone tried, Starsk, the entire force searched… but there was nothing. Susan's pain was so strong… I wanted to help. I never stopped. For three months, I never stopped looking." Hutch swallowed some warm blood. "Looking for Hope."

Starsky's hands came to rest on Hutch's uninjured knee in a gesture of comfort minimally hampered by the rope.

"For three months they had her," Hutch continued, his gaze losing focus on the intertwining chain before them. "Then they dumped that little girl's beaten body in a dumpster." April stirred again and Hutch realized he was tense. Relaxing marginally, he plowed on. "It devastated Susan. She killed herself three months later. Shot through the skull."

Starsky's suffering sigh said what words could not. "I'm sorry," he said softly, flexing his hand on Hutch's knee. "That's some pretty hard stuff to sort through."

"Yeah," Hutch agreed, blinking away the tears before they could spill. "I had nightmares for a long time after that. Even considered getting out of police work."

"Understandably."

Hutch let his eyes close as a wave of fatigue spread through him. Talking about it would most likely lead to new nightmares, but his eyelids refused to stay open. April's peaceful breathing set the pace for his own heart as he relaxed. He was sinking down into a dark oblivion when Starsky's voice sounded from beside him.

"Hey Hutch?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Hutch smiled, his eyes refusing to open. "Welcome."