To those of you who've read this... I changed POV in the first part. Thanks everyone for your support. You really help keep this story going.

Chapter 16

Locking his fingers around an iron bar he found, Hutch tried to wrench the iron ring, which was connecting one of the chains to the altar, loose. The ring wouldn't budge. With an exasperated sigh he threw the bar on the floor in unkempt frustration. His eyes flew around the room, searching for another way to free him, all the while avoiding Starsky's stare, not wanting to look at the chains, at the sight that made his blood boil. He turned to search the floor for something smaller; a pin perhaps, to try and pick the locks.

The smoke prevented him to do a thorough search. Frantically he kicked the dust, but there was nothing in it that could be of help. His eyes watered again, the smoke stinging like crazy. He took a deep breath, coughed and closed his eyes. Leaning with both hands on the altar to relieve some of his chest-pains, he tried not to give in to the despair that was steadily overwhelming him.

"Hey."

Hutch opened his eyes at the comfort resonating in that small word. A warm soul behind blue eyes met his.

Chains rattled and the brunet caught his hand again, causing him to loose the grip he had on his feelings. Unable to voice them Hutch shook his head and looked away. Biting his lip, he stared up into the smoky atmosphere. Without looking down he could tell Starsky was loosing his fight to stay awake. There had been a peace in his partner's eyes that he didn't want to accept. A peace, he knew, Hermes had put there.

"Y…You don't have the k…key, do you?" Starsky asked with closed eyes, changing the subject as he obviously read Hutch's pain but didn't know how to quell it. When the blond couldn't answer immediately, his eyelids fluttered partly open. "Hutch?"

"No," Hutch answered hoarsely.

Starsky sighed, his next words containing a bit more bite, "Then… what… are you… still… doing… here?"

A soft, whispered plea followed, "Starsky, don't ask me that." You know what I'm still doing here… You can't seriously expect me to-"

"This whole church is gonna go… You wanna die like that, huh?"

"Starsky," Hutch sighed, frightened… close to panic now.

The hold on his hand clenched in equal panic, "You hafta… go. You hafta… go on."

Hutch shook his head in denial, his voice small now, "I'm not leaving you behind. I can't-" The blond caught his breath and closed his eyes.

Starsky pulled him in. He didn't resist, embracing the warmth of his partner. "Don't be stupid," the brunet spoke hoarsely into his ear, "Just go."

The floor shook hard. Hutch stance changed from comforting to protective, covering Starsky's body with his own; he could feel the brunet tremble with fatigue. He felt the clammy sweat on his partner's skin, felt his own heart beating in his throat as his body sucked up Starsky's warmth. Please God, let the church hold for a few moments more. Rubble was falling down on top of them, the smoke increased, but then the violent shaking of the floor stopped. The church was still standing. Hutch knew they couldn't be so lucky a second time, just as he knew the warmth wouldn't last.

Starsky's hand fell away from his shoulder. "Go," he whispered, "Huh? Just do it."

So many thinks to say… so many words he couldn't find. Hutch straightened to silently take a step back, not breaking the eye contact. He's so quietly accepting his faith. It's not like him. It's damn well not like him. Bitterness mastered him… bitterness that turned into deep abiding loyalty, bitterness that turned into stubbornness. Hutch's voice dropped an octave, his voice rigid and unrelenting, "No."

The single word, the love and conviction behind it, ripped away the peaceful spell Hermes had put upon his partner. A visible shudder racked through his body and Starsky turned his head away as the single word seemed to shatter the pull death head on him. His will to live returned… and with the love of life also came the fear. "Oh God…"

Hutch was beside him in seconds. Tightly closing two hands around his partner's shaking hand and wrist, chains and all and held on fiercely. "It's okay… I'm here…"

"M scared…"

"I know. I know that, buddy."

Starsky clung to the hands and blinked. "Never thought… I'd go this way, you know… in a church… I'm not even… a…a Catholic." He closed his eyes. Hutch could feel him fading beneath his hands. "So tired…"

"Stay with me, dammit!"

The anger shook the brunet ruthlessly out his stupor. The eyes focussed once more and he managed a weary smile, "'Kay… I'll…I'll try."

A vague shape, white and seeming to float through the smoke, was making its way to the front door. Suppressing the sudden image of ghosts taking over the church, Stef drew a knife and ran after it. Cutting off the very real man's path, he asked mockingly, "Where do you think, you're going?" His voice was hoarse, making him sound more dangerous than he felt.

The priest took a step back, "Stef?" Raising both his hands in false surrender, he asked, "Y… You wouldn't harm an unarmed man, would you?"

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't?" He could tell the priest was gauging his chances. Exactly how dangerous could Stef be?

Pulling himself up straight, the man reclaimed some of his pride. "I'm heading out, and if you're wise, you'd do the same." The priest continued with carefully spoken words, "Why don't you come with me? I could use someone like you; especially since you seem to have beaten Marcel."

Stef gave a grim smile, "Sorry." Taking a step closer, he pointed the knife in the priest's direction. "But my allegiance lies elsewhere."

The priest snorted, "Those two cops? You can't help them anymore." He nodded back at the altar, "The man's chained. The blond won't leave him; misplaced loyalty if you ask me. They're both dead." A thin sly smile crept into the priest's parchment-like features, "I could, off course, give you the key. But what good will that do you now? The brunet's a goner anyway.

Stef couldn't help but smugly raise his hand to dangle the key in the priest's face. Picking pockets had always been one of his strong points.

"Why, you little-" The priest began started, his eyes shooting fire.

But Stef interrupted him, "Move to the altar,"

The white robed man took a step back. Obviously having no intention to obey, he said, "Now Stef… You do know it's not me you want, do you? It's Marcel."

"What about him?" Stef asked suspiciously, wary of any escaping move the priest might make. He eyed the fire. How long before the sewer beneath them would give way?

"Well… He's the one who killed Will."

He froze, staring into the priest's cold grey eyes, the fire forgotten.

"Oh, didn't you know?" His voice turned purposefully sad, "No, I guess not."

"You're lying," Stef said bitterly, but the tremble in his voice betrayed him. And the priest picked up on it.

"Am I? You see… Will found out about Marcel's plans to take over The Guild, years ago. So he had to be… taken care off. Marcel's very strict in that."

Stef shook his head in denial, unconsciously lowering the knife. "No… Marcel helped me after Will died."

The priest spoke harshly and took a step forwards, "To keep an eye on you. To keep any suspicion The Guild and Fifth Avenue might have off of him."

It made sense; it made way too much sense. He was hurtled back in time in space to that one moment when Will, instead of running from his attackers, had drawn a knife. Stef had always assumed it had been the police who'd killed his brother, had always been puzzled by the fact why Will had tried to take on the cops. But if one of them had been Marcel, Will would have recognised him, recognised the danger he was in.

Marcel killed him… just like that. The pool… all that blood…

Clenching his hand around the knife he still held, his mind focussed on the present, on the niche where he'd left the assassin, forgetting about the priest standing two feet away from him.

"How well did Marcel teach you the ropes, huh? Are you really prepared to kill me, Stef? Marcel would, you know." The priest moved slowly towards the door, carefully making his way around him.

Startled by the fake warm voice Stef was pulled back to reality. He raised the knife, but knew instantly that he couldn't back up his threat.

The priest smiled victoriously. Then turned and walked steadfastly towards the doors.

Lowering the weapon, Stef saw him go.

A violent lurch of the floor made him loose his footing. Debris fell from the ceiling, the loud rumble indicating small and large pieces hitting the ground. He dove between the pews, just as a loud deafening clap sounded nearby, sending tremors through the stone cold tiles he was lying on. He coughed -the smoke seemed to have intensified- and stood up again, peering through the white mists. The ceiling near the doors had partly collapsed. A twisted sense of justice made him grimly bite his lip as he discerned the scene in front of him.

The priest had never made it out.

His arms and feet felt lighter. Had Hutch let go of him? Surprised he opened his eyes to find Stef opening the shackles. One by one the chains fell away, clattering onto the floor.

"Come on…" The boy urged.

Starsky moved because Hutch wanted him to. Moved because his friend wouldn't leave without him and this was the only way to get him out. So once again he struggled against unconsciousness and got up; struggled to set one foot in front of the other, leaning heavily on his partner. He moved… and the whole world seemed to move around him, spinning out of control.

He fell, but was picked up again by two sets of hands. Heaving, he was dragged ruthlessly through the building fire, through thick, choking smoke. In the distance, between the swirls of a topsy-turvy world, there was the outlined safety of a door; an opening away from this hellhole.

Just a few more steps…

"Captain."

"Huggy! You better have a damn good excuse for waking me up in the middle of the night! Do you know what time it is?"

"Cap, you know that old church two miles out of town?"

"This had better be good, Huggy."

"Word has it that the fireworks that just happened out there made the fourth of July's display look like child play."

"So what are you telling me?"

"It blew up half an hour ago."

"Iunderstood that much! Why are you telling me this?"

"Cap'n, I have reason to believe two of our mutual friends were inside."

"You mean Starsky and Hutch? Unlikely, Hutch wouldn't have gone off without letting the department know where he went."

"He let me know, Cap… said to give him twenty hours."

Dobey straightened slightly, "How the hell am I suppose to run this show with everyone having private parties all the time!"

"From what I've learned, I don't think he had a choice. The point is that I think our two heroes have bitten off a little more than they can chew. There's nothing left of that church, if they were inside…"

A short silence fell before Dobey managed to say in a gruff voice, "You better tell me everything you know."

Tbc