Thank you for all the kind reviews. Also a big thanks and hug to those of you who keep me encouraged in writing this story.

Chapter 4

Stef stepped away from the body. He had what he'd come here for. It was unfortunate that he'd also found the current tenant, but that wasn't his problem. Silently he slipped out the back door and disappeared into the night.

Taking a sip of his beer Hutch eyed the bartender suspiciously from his position at the end of the bar. "Huggy, is there something going on you're not telling me?"

"There's always something going on I'm not telling you. I'm walkin' a fine line here you know."

"Four break-ins in the past four weeks, that's four killings Hug. We need that kid."

"Aw, what do you want with him my man? He didn't do anything."

Hutch rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Sure, he's as innocent as a new born baby. Tell that to the half a dozen people in this area alone he robbed. Not to mention the ones he uses as pick-pocketing practice."

"Be that as it may, I can't give him to you."

Hutch slammed his fist on the table in sudden anger. "Why are you protecting him?"

"Hey, hey, easy my man. Boy, are you cranky without your better half."

Hutch chose to ignore that last remark. Yes, he was cranky. He would never admit it to Starsky but his friend's attempt to choke him two weeks ago had severely shocked his nerves and somehow he couldn't get it out of his system.

"Huggy," he tried again mustering some calmness from deep within. "We chased him up an alley four weeks ago, right after he robbed a woman's summer house clean at sea view point. She was murdered. Now what makes you think this kid's clean?

To his surprise the bartender leaned in, his expression turning very serious. "Hutch, you start poking in the life of a thief? A professional one? You get burned. Believe me. You don't know what you're messing with."

Hutch sat back and threw a hand in the air. "I'm a cop. It's my job to poke. The kid Hug…"

With a deep sigh his friend finally relented. "Corner of Broadway and Fifth. Tomorrow. Oh and Hutch…?"

Already halfway out the door Hutch turned.

"Be careful, your treadin' on dangerous turf here."

Hutch gave him an acknowledging nod and left.

Feeling like he'd just run a marathon Starsky picked up one of Hutch's concoctions which his partner had so generously left in his fridge for him to drink. The sun had barely risen and he felt drained already. The past night had been like any other night in the previous four weeks, full of unwanted and terrifying dreams. And they had worsened significantly after his aggressive encounter with his partner

Lifting the white substance close to his mouth, he somehow couldn't muster the energy to actually drink it. Sighing he put the glass down again and looked over at the wall clock. Hutch would be picking him up soon. Feeling the anger beginning to stir again he sat down on the couch in an attempt to get his unlocked emotions under control and lowered his head into his hands.

He could still see Hutch's face when he had pinned the blond to the wall two weeks ago. He hadn't meant to come on so strong, but it just happened. And Hutch had been too shocked to fend him off. Starsky shook his head while taking a deep breath. In that instance he'd seen nothing but a red blur and he'd gone for the kill. He knew that if his partner hadn't gotten through to him…

He wasn't sure if Hutch had been aware of that. Starsky hadn't talked about it afterwards as it scared him to death. Of course his partner would take the first blows, simply because he was always there. But that left Hutch very vulnerable. In that one terrifying moment when he was about to choke the blond, Starsky had seen the ugliness of fear and anger in all its glory.

He leant backwards and cursed. What the hell's happening to me? He thought, trying to find a foothold in the sea of liquid that was once comfortable, solid ground.

Despite Hutch's constant caring, Starsky hadn't eaten much in the last few days. He found it hard to hold anything down. Somewhere deep down he knew that the lack of food was partially responsible for the way he felt now. The whole thing just added to his frustration. He felt like his body was rebelling and there was nothing he could do about it.

A knock on the door shook him out his reverie.

"Yeah?"

Hutch entered. As in the previous days his presence brought some peace to his turmoil inside, but Starsky wondered how long it would be before that would no longer be enough.

"Hey."

Starsky couldn't help but smile. "Ya, I'm coming." He walked over to his holster and jacket and put them on. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw his partner noticing the full glass he'd put in the sink. To Starsky's relief the blond kept silent about it. Hutch had stopped pushing, just as Starsky had asked. Or more accurately had demanded of him.

He pulled open the front door and let his partner walk past him to the LTD. The Torino stood abandoned at the curve. It saddened Starsky a bit, but they were about to go on a stake out and his car was far too conspicuous.

Hutch stopped for a moment just as he was about to enter his car. "Starsky?"

Starsky looked up at him from over the top of the brown car roof.

"Are you sure you're up to this?"

Staring at him for a few seconds, the brunet couldn't deny the worry that coloured the words. For a moment his partner looked as tired as Starsky felt right now. Damn, if I'm not careful I'm gonna drag him down with me. "Well, you know me. Dying with my boots on and all."

"Come on Starsk, that's not funny. Now, you're either with me or your not. It's your call."

Hutch's short temper wasn't all that surprising, considering the hard time Starsky had been giving him in the last few weeks. He nodded with determination. 'I'm in' and entered the passenger's site.

"Hutch, it's him!"

"Where?"

"Right over…," Starsky pointed, moving his finger in an arc as he bulls-eyed the young man, walking up to them, "…there."

"Wait until he's closer," Hutch urged.

He nodded in consent, already focused on his prey. It was the same boy Starsky had lost when he had frozen in front of the alley way over four weeks ago.

All of a sudden the kid stopped, eyeing the car suspiciously. He took three steps back, turned and ran.

"He made us. Go!" Hutch yelled.

They flew out of the LTD and ran after him.

As he ran Starsky pulled his gun, but refrained from aiming as the streets were crowded with innocent bystanders. Hutch was a couple of feet behind him when their target suddenly crossed the street.

Dodging cars with honking horns Starsky managed to follow the kid. Without looking back he knew his partner had no such luck when a green light and a heavy traffic rush blocked the street, keeping Hutch from joining him.

Starsky pushed on, following the boy into an alleyway where the kid went quickly up some iron stairs, heading for the roof of a large hotel. He disappeared before the Detective could shout another warning.

Without hesitation the brunet grabbed hold of the iron rods of the stairwell and pulled himself up. He had no idea how far his partner was behind, or if Hutch was even able to follow their trail at all, but Starsky knew he couldn't wait for him. Not if he didn't want this one to give them the slip yet again.

Working his way up the stairs, Starsky made the mistake of looking down. Hutch wasn't anywhere in sight, but through the iron maze of the stairs, the concrete floor far beneath it suddenly seemed to beckon at him. The stairs turned to liquid as a spell of vertigo hit him. He flung himself against an iron support rod, trying to fight the irrational fear that threatened to overwhelm him. Damn, I don't have time for this right now.

Succeeding in getting his fears under tight control, Starsky moved on and carefully, gun still drawn, peeked over the edge of the rooftop and stared at it in disbelieve. Terrific, someone decided to relocate Hutch's greenhouse!

He cursed inwardly as numerous plants, pots and garden ornaments blocked his way. The decorator had really gone all out on this one, creating a jungle with wooden paths that went off in mysterious directions. The paths all disappeared in what appeared to be a dense woodland area. Jesus, how big is this roof?

Starsky eyed the surroundings for a moment. A bad feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. He had underestimated this little thief. The kid had known this roof garden was here. Proceeding with a bit more caution, Starsky jumped softly on the wooden decking and started to follow one of the paths. Suddenly he spotted the kid trying to pry open a door accessing the building.

"Freeze, Police!"

The kid ducked behind a tree and Starsky lost his aim when the teenager managed to disappear in the foliage. A damn tree! Which idiot had the dumb idea to plant trees on this rooftop?

The sound of running footsteps crossing a hard, hollow surface drew his attention. Starsky ran towards it, cutting a path through some bushes. With a splash he stepped into a shallow inlayed pond.

Shit!

Angry at being out smarted by a teenager he barged through the water to the other side and spotted the kid disappearing behind what looked like a chimney in the distance. With soggy sneakers and wet feet Starsky headed towards it.

The foliage however was deceptive and the building turned out to be far bigger than he had initially imagined. Without any warning the plants suddenly gave way to a large open space. The moment he heard a hollow sound coming from beneath his squashy feet, he knew he had made a mistake.

Stef cursed to himself as he ran across the roof. This had better work. He ducked behind a chimney, just in time to see the dark haired detective, Starsky, crossing the same section of roof he had just past.

With satisfaction he saw the Detective looking down and nearly tripping in shock.

A skylight covering the entire width of the building stretched out beneath his feet. This part of the roof was made of pure glass. Stef knew that all the brunet could see was the floor of the large hallway.

Five stories down.

Just as Stef had anticipated Starsky froze, suddenly realizing where he was standing. Stef saw the air getting caught in the man's throat as his fear of heights took over. He saw the Detective starting to shake like a leaf, apparently trying to control a rise in panic. Stef waited, for that one moment when Starsky would close his eyes. He drew his knife. The moment came.

Being skilled enough to hit and kill a target with one throw of a knife wasn't something he was very proud of. But right now it would keep him alive. He thought of Will, and cold revenge took over. As silent as a ghost, he came out of hiding and raised the knife.

"STARSKY!"

The blond's high-pitched panicked scream startled the hell out of Stef, and he momentarily lost his focus. The cry seemed to echo in his head, merging with the memory of a scream he himself had once yelled. How he remembered the pain, the emptiness that had followed from the moment Will had been shot.

Stef's eyes shot over the blond, emerging from the foliage on the other side of the building. He froze for an instant as he kept hearing the blond's scream … and the care locked within it.

Starsky rolled in reflex.

The Detective came up out of his roll and aimed straight at him. Stef's eyes flicked back to him. For a moment their worlds met. Brown eyes piercing blue ones. Instinct for survival taking over, the young thief squinted and lifted the knife with deadly accuracy. He wasn't fast enough, not this time. Starsky recognized the movement for what it was and pulled the trigger…

The noise was deafening, but that was all it was, deafening noise. He stared at the man in front of him who had missed as the Detective had clearly been hit by a bout of dizziness. Stef didn't stop to ask questions. He gave Will a small 'thank you' and took the opportunity to make a run for it. Before long he had managed to elude the blond one and escaped.

"You missed…"

"Yeah, so?"

"Starsky, you missed him, that kid could've killed you!"

"C'mon, quit with the worries and the concerns will you? I told you …"

Hutch didn't wait for Starsky to finish his sentence. Scare resonated behind the anger in his voice as the blond abruptly interrupted him. "When was the last time you've eaten?"

Starsky shrugged loosely and paced away angry. He didn't want to be comforted right now. He felt anxious, angry and so frustrated he wanted to scream out loud and he was afraid that if he let Hutch near, he would vent his anger onto him.

"Eaten? You mean real food? The stuff you can sink your teeth in? Oh well, lets see? About four weeks ago."

Hutch didn't move and instead just glared at him. "You know damn well, what I mean! You haven't been drinkin' any of the stuff have you?"

"And what if I haven't partner? I told you, I'm not you!"

"Starsk, you can't go on days on end without nutrition! You missed him for crying out loud! What if he'd used that knife! What if he hadn't run away?"

Starsky couldn't stop the anger from boiling. Hutch yelling at him slowly pushed him beyond a point he vowed he would never cross again. The last time he felt like this was when his father had died. He was an angry kid with no direction or purpose in life. His days were filled with trying to vent it, wanting to vent it. And when his mother had sent him over to his Aunt Rosie, she had a hard time at first of keeping him in check. He'd been having dreams back then too. Anger riddled with fear had consumed his days.

Ever so slowly he had managed to give all the excessive energy direction and purpose. And slowly he'd gotten got the feelings of pent up frustration that had cumulated in anxiety attacks and angry outbursts under control. They were always there, but they were manageable.

Until now.

He felt as if he was in a roller coaster ride, going down. And he was mortally afraid of the cart running down Hutch in the process.

Hutch didn't know how angry he could become. How awfully out of control his anxiety attacks could make him. He'd met Hutch after his crisis was over and to a certain extent the blond was the reason Starsky managed to keep his temper under control. This was an ugly part of him he'd never fully shown his partner; because he knew that if he did, there was a chance his emotional turmoil could seriously hurt the blond. That's why he never allowed himself to get angry with Hutch and Starsky had learned to always turn the other cheek. But he couldn't stop himself now.

He paced over to face his partner while putting his gun away, spitting out his words and looking Hutch straight in the eye. "And I told you once before, maybe you should look for another partner, if you won't, don't hold me responsible for the consequences."

It was as if he had slapped Hutch in the face. He saw it, he felt it. But Hutch didn't back down. Not this time. This time a side of the Hutchinson family trade hardness surfaced and it made Starsky flinch.

"You want me to leave you alone?" The voice was devoid of any warmth. "To walk out of here and let you wallow in self pity?"

"Self pity?"

"Yes, self pity! Damn you Starsk. Forget it! I will NEVER leave you alone, you hear me.

Do you really think I don't know what you're going through right now? The hurt, the anger the fear!"

Starsky stared at him.

"The fear Starsk, I know about that. I've been there remember? So, no. Sorry. Request denied."

Blue blazing eyes pierced the darker ones. Starsky felt himself calm down somewhat. As strange as it sounded Hutch's harsh words made him pull himself together up to a point of control.

"Fine. You wanna get yourself killed? Suit yourself." Starsky turned and marched away; feeling slightly unsettled that this was exactly what would happen if things didn't change soon.

Chapter 5

Pulling off the white linen sheet, Hutch immediately noticed the sliced artery in the neck. The floorboards beneath the fallen body were a reddish black color, dried blood, which had soaked into the creeks of the wood.

The house he was in was located in a neighbourhood, which was famous for its vigilant neighbourhood watch system. Nothing exciting ever happened around here, not for the last ten years. No burglaries and certainly no murders. Hutch was sure that if he would bother to look into it, not one of these upstanding citizens even had so much as a parking-ticket. Still, they hadn't been able to stop these killings from happening any more than the rest of Bay cities occupants had.

Tiredly, Hutch ran a hand over his eyes. He hadn't slept well at all, and Dobey's phone-call at five in the morning had come as a relief. Since his partner badly needed the rest, Hutch had decided to take this one alone.

An ordinary thief… Again. Or so the next door neighbour claimed, who'd pointed out that several valuable gold statues were missing from the glass showcase in the hallway.Hutch stepped aside to let a crime scene investigator do his work. It doesn't make sense. The autopsy reports on the previous victims all proved the sliced artery to be the cause of death, and this case appears to have the same m.o., but there's hardly any blood on the floor. "Captain?"

Dobey made his way toward him, and frowned when Hutch checked the floorboards beneath the victim. "It's a remarkably clean kill," Dobey stated, gruffly.

"Yes…" Hutch pondered, "Do me a favor, Captain? Have pathology figure out the amount of blood missing from the body."

"Why? Isn't it obvious what killed him?"

"It's just a hunch I'm having, Cap." Carefully, Hutch took the sheet in both hands, and covered up the victim again.

"Consider it done. By the way, where is that partner of yours?"

Rubbing his hands together, Hutch stood up to face his superior, "Still not feeling a hundred percent, I'm afraid."

"Hmpf," Dobey grunted, "The day he'll be finished with that diet will be none too soon for me. Did you know he put an out of order sign on the candy bar machine, yesterday? The thing wasn't even broken! The whole department is suffering, because of him."

Hutch barely managed to hide his smile. "Just two more weeks, Captain," he said, slapping Dobey on the shoulder, before walking out. Just two more weeks, he mumbled to himself.

The Altar was covered in blood. The carefully inlayed golden figures were barely visible between the dark fluids seeping unhindered down the curves of the stone altar onto the wooden floor.

Candles and chandeliers cast their lights upon the holy images that decorated the inside of the church, giving the place a deceptively warm welcome. He felt safe. Then his eyes fell upon the hands that were tied down to the altar with thick pieces of rope. And his world of safety shattered into a thousand pieces as all he could see was the outline of a man lying face up on the top of the altar.

Starsky trembled visibly as each footstep brought him closer to a sight his mind did not want to register. First he recognized the green shirt his partner had been wearing, then the blond strands of hair and finally the face, seemingly sleeping, looking far too peaceful in the horrific scene that unfolded itself in front of Starsky's eyes. He stretched out a trembling hand. Hutch was dead.

Untold feelings of grief and guilt boiled to the surface, mastered him and consumed him.

A noise made him whip around. From out of the dark corners of the pews and black recesses of the church, shadows approached him. Simon's robed followers closed in on him. Overcome with anger, Starsky grabbed a candlestick. The large wax candle inside it kept burning, illuminating a circle containing him and Hutch. The followers chanted and Starsky stepped forward, swinging the heavy brass candlestick around with a yell. Where the circle of light hit the closing shadows a robe burst into flames. Starsky backed off.

And they kept coming.

Standing in his partner's blood in front of the altar, the voices were clearly audible above the hissing of the flames. "Simon needs him, stand aside. Simon needs him."

"You can't have him!" His eyes filled with tears, the chanting stopped. The circle of hooded man and women respectfully froze just outside the reach of the fiery circle cast by the single flame in the candleholder. He gripped it with both hands.

One of them took a step forwards. A cold male voice spoke and seemed to dim the light of the surrounding candles with each icy word. "We need him, he's ours, he was meant to be the chosen one. You're just a lost soul, lost in the light. Simon bids you to stand aside."

"You want him?" Starsky said hoarse. "You'll have to go through me!"

Knifes, they had knifes. The points of steel were already dark with spilled blood, his partner's blood.

"Come on, you sick perverts!" His raged anger challenged them, fear and grief giving him a possessed strength. The circle stepped forward in unity, the dark swallowing up the light as they did.

A mantra resided in his ears. "He's the first of a hundreds, thousands, millions…"

"COME ON!" He shouted in hatred.

And they came.

Darkness closed in and he lashed out, putting every ounce of his being in a forceful blow. And he hit something… hard.

"Starsky wake up, come on buddy. Wake up."

Hutch desperately tried to shake his partner into the waking world, the worry edged deeply into the lines of his face. This has gone on long enough. Whatever happened next, Starsky had to face his fears and Hutch would see to it that he would.

After leaving Benson's house he'd gone straight to Starsky's place and had let himself in, determined to feed the stubborn man, with force if necessary. He had found Starsky asleep on the couch, obviously caught in a horrific nightmare.

His partner stopped thrashing about and slowly woke up.

"That's it buddy, just-"

Without any warning Starsky suddenly opened his eyes. Grief and anger hit Hutch and before he could question the intense feelings he read in his friend's eyes, his partner released all those emotions in one punch, hitting Hutch full force in the face.

Totally taken off guard Hutch's body snapped back with the intensity of the blow. He smashed against the back wall, bounced off and crashed through a glass table. Shards cut in his flesh, a piece ripped open a major artery moments before he hit his head on the iron table frame and darkness took him.

Waking up, Starsky looked at his clenched fist in a dreamlike state. Slowly, as if in a rerun, his gaze shifted over to his partner lying between what was left of the table. Face down, blood smearing the hands, the black turtleneck, the blond hair. Almost instantaneously realization and horror set in.

Oh God, no, no, no…

"Hutch!" He shook himself out of his stupor and in two steps rushed over to his partner's side. With fingers still painful from the blow, Starsky carefully touched the arm the blond had held out in reflex when he collided with the table. An ugly piece of glass protruded from a deep gash in the wrist and the wound bled profusely.

Shaking, feeling as if he had woken up into his nightmare Starsky grabbed a table cloth and wrapped it around the arm. The bleeding stopped. He ran a hand through the blond strands of hair and stared at his fingers in shock. They were covered in blood.

Not daring to turn his partner around he desperately reached for the phone that had stood on the broken table. Trembling, he called for an ambulance. Then he sat back, utterly defeated and closed his eyes. He shook his head. God, what have I done…?

He could still hear the chanting from his dreams, icy words that had found a way into his heart and into his soul.

Simon, Simon, Simon…

Tbc.