Chapter 2

"Looks like you didn't feel like finishing that model ship of yours, huh?" Hutch teased gently after casting a quick glance at the model pieces still scattered around the living room floor. Picking them up would have to wait. He'd just arrived at Starsky's and before anything else, he wanted to check on his friend. "How was your day, buddy?" Hutch asked, squeezing Starsky's shoulder.

"Same as yesterday, same as tomorrow… t'rrific." Starsky grumped, moodily. The brunet sat slouched on his couch, his arms wrapped around his midriff. Like many other times since he'd been shot, the discomfort he had been feeling earlier at the beach had escalated, from a dull ache to a full force pain that made him sick to his stomach. But he still wasn't willing to take his evening pain pill. He'd rather wait as long as could. Memories of Hutch going cold turkey through heroine withdrawal at Huggy's upstairs room and the unsettling prospect of getting hooked to the strong painkillers fretted Starsky more than the pain itself.

"Here, take these," Hutch had retrieved the pills bottle from the bathroom cabinet and now he was giving two to Starsky with a glass of water.

"Later Hutch, I'm ok." Starsky refused the pills.

"My ass you're ok!" the blond one snapped.

"Listen, Hutch…"

"No, you listen, partner," Hutch said, adamantly. "You're in pain. In a lot of pain, actually. I can see it. Damn! Even a kid would! So what's this nonsense about not wanting to take your pain pills?"

"Hutch, I... I just don't." Starsky's faltering words were met with a concerned look from Hutch.

"Ok, partner, what's wrong? Talk to me."

Starsky remained silent for a bit before muttering, "I just don't wanna get hooked on that crap, that's all." His eyes were glued to the floor at his feet.

"Listen, Starsk," The blond one sat by his side on the couch, patting his knee. "You've been through hell and back these last few months. Just having you here, by my side, is a miracle in of itself, but the fight isn't over yet. Your body's healing, but the damage it endured was very extensive, so you're still hurting. And it sucks. Sucks big time, partner, but it can't be helped. Your doctors know it, and that's why they've prescribed you this stuff. They did everything in their power to save you, to bring you back from the brink of death…" As Hutch said this, the memory of Starsky lying unconscious, almost lifeless in his hospital bed while doctors and nurses tried to make his heart beat again sent shivers up Hutch's spine. Swallowing hard, he kept on talking, "So, give them some credit, buddy. They know what they're doing."

"Hutch… what if I end up like you? I mean..." Starsky trailed off, feeling dizzy because of the pain and unable to think clearly.

"I know what you mean," Of course Hutch knew. "But that's not gonna happen, Starsky. You don't have to quit the pills cold turkey, hiding from everything and everybody. Doctors will take care of that, and eventually, once you get better and your pain starts to subside, they'll lower the dosage, slowly and safely, until you don't have to take any more of these pills." Hutch couldn't help but curse Gunther once more. Starsky had survived, which most doctors deemed impossible, but the physical and emotional ordeal his best friend was going through was far from over.

"Now, come on, Starsky, take your pills and go lie down while I fix you some dinner. Looks like you need it." Hutch rose from the couch and picked up the pills and glass of water. He handed them out to Starsky, who took them silently.

OOOOOOOOOO

The night before, Starsky had gone to bed early. But after only a couple of hours of sound sleep, the nightmares began. After tossing and turning for a while, he found himself out of bed at the crack of dawn. Hutch was still snoring softly on the couch. Feeling tired and achy, the brunet poured himself a glass of orange juice, and stepped outside for some fresh air. He left the front door ajar. And there it was. A few feet away, looking at him and softly wagging his tail, Starsky saw the black, furry giant he'd met the day before at the beach.

"Hey pal! Here you are!" Starsky said, stepping closer to the dog. "Did you find your dinner yesterday? Hope so… Anyway, now it's breakfast time, so how about coming in with me so I can fix something for you to eat? I don't have dog food, but a few eggs and bacon will do the trick, I guess."

Upon hearing Starsky's voice, Hutch woke up with a start. Stretching and rubbing his eyes to get rid of the last remnants of sleep, he got up in just his pyjama bottoms and headed outside to where his friend's voice came from.

"Starsk, you ok? Who are you talking to?"

"Look, Hutch, it seems like we'll have a guest over for breakfast," Starsky turned to greet his friend as Hutch walked towards him.

"A guest over for breakfast?" The blond one asked, puzzled.

"Yep, a large, black dog I meet yesterday at the beach… look at him, Hutch. It's huge, isn't?" Starsky spun around to point at the dog. Or rather, where the dog had been a split second before.

"Dog? What dog, partner?" Hutch was by his friend's side, peering around the street, but there was no dog in sight.

"But… how?" Starsky said looking around. "I saw it Hutch; it was right over there." Starsky pointed toward the spot where the dog had been standing. "Then I turned to talk to you and… poof! It's gone, same as yesterday." Starsky scratched his head, looking puzzled.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Twice! That dog has disappeared on me twice, Hutch! I just don't get it. Such a huge animal shouldn't be able to vanish into thin air," Starsky said while downing his morning pain pills with a swallow of coffee. During breakfast, the dark haired detective had filled his friend in on the first time he had seen and lost the elusive dog, at the beach.

"Listen Starsk, perhaps we should call animal control." Hutch suggested. "It's not safe to have such a big animal roaming freely around; he could attack a kid or something. Actually, it could have bitten you."

"Come on, Hutch, you can't be serious!" Starsky retorted. "Animal control? You mean to send the poor thing to some sort of doggy jail? No way Blondie, that idea sucks; we should try to find his owners instead. I am quite certain someone's out there looking for him."

"Ok, ok, partner." Hutch conceded, raising his hands. "Tell you what we'll do. You can call Huggy and ask him to do some diggin'. Meanwhile, I'll ask at the precinct. Perhaps someone knows someone who's looking for that dog." Hutch drank the last of his coffee and rose to his feet. "Anyway, Starsk, I'd prefer if you didn't get too close to any stray dogs. It could have bitten you, or knocked you over, and besides it may have ticks or fleas, and your immune system isn't at its best."

"Are you done mother-henning me, Hutch?" Starsky retorted, annoyed.

"Nope, buddy. Eat your cereal; you need to get some food into that body of yours." Hutch said with a wink, placing the bowl of cereal that Starsky had set aside earlier, back in front of him. Starsky set it aside again, stubbornly.

"Ok, Starsk, gotta go to get some work done at the precinct." Hutch patted Starsky's shoulder before picking up his jacket and holster. "See you later, and call me if you need something, anything, do you hear me?" The blond detective was trying his best to hide his worries, but leaving Starsky alone for most of the day was stressing him out more than he was willing to confess.

"Yes mom, heard you," Starsky groused.

Later that morning, Starsky decided to try and finish his model ship. But before he could get started, he had to find a tube of glue.

Rummaging through one of the drawers in his living room, his hand touched a book-like item. Not sure what it was, he picked it up. It was his photo album.

"Let's look at what we got here," Starsky said to himself. Turning the pages, he smiled at the pictures. One of Hutch and him back in their rookie days, wearing uniforms, another one of them standing in front of Starsky's Torino, arms wrapped around each other's waists, and another one taken at The Pits in which they and Huggy were toasting to the New Year. Then, Starsky's heart lurched a little. The next picture was a headshot of Terry that he himself had taken during a picnic at the park. The girl was smiling brightly at the camera, her soft wavy hair framing her lovely face, her blue eyes shining with happiness.

"Terry…" Starsky said in a hoarse whisper, tracing fondly with his finger the line of her smile. A wave of sadness washed over him and memories of a very happy, yet short lived time flooded his mind.

Distressed, he closed the photo album and placed it back in its drawer. He did not want to wallow in self- pity but he was unable to avoid wondering how and why things had gone so wrong for him in the last few years. TBC