A/N Lots of stories have been written about the aftermath of 'Fatal Charm' and one particularly good one is acmabry's "Soul Restoration". It's one of my favourites and is so good that there is almost nothing to add. But this little scene came to me - so it's a missing scene between: Starsky finding Hutch being attacked by Diana; and the tag at the hospital a couple of days later visiting Linda; and, I hope, leads nicely into acmabry's beautiful story.

Freaked Out

Hutch POV

"Hello?"

"Starsk, I need your h-"

The phone is down before I can finish the sentence. "Damn! I should have thought before I started speaking." I try ringing back but it's too late – he's on his way. "Now, he's gonna drive like a maniac and probably get in a wreck en route. That was so stupid of me! What was I thinking?"

In less time than it have should have taken, I hear the screech of tyres and then a car door slamming. I rush to the front door in time to open it and stop him crashing through. He tries to hide the worry on his face but I can see it.

"You okay?"

I nod. "Yeah, sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out. I just wanted your help with something."

"No problem."

As he walks past, his hand brushes across my stomach. Reassuring him, or me, or both of us? It's been less than twenty-four hours and we're both still rattled.

Starsky POV

I'm dozing off in front of the tube when the phone rings. Half asleep, I pick up the handset and say, "Hello?"

"Starsk, I need-"

My response is automatic. Those three words are all I need to hear to spring into action. I swipe for my keys, ram my tennis shoes back onto my feet, grab my gun and jacket, and then I'm running down the steps, throwing my holster on over my shoulder as I run to my car. My heart is pounding and my brain has shifted into 'Hutch is in danger' mode. I can't think; I just know I need to get there fast. A minute could make all the difference between life and death. It usually takes ten minutes to get to Hutch's place; I make it in seven.

I slam on the brakes and hurtle out of the car, shoving open the ground floor door and running up the steps, taking them two at a time. Just as I reach his front door, Hutch opens it, an apology written all over his face.

"You okay?" I ask, slightly breathlessly.

He nods at me.

"Yeah, sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out. I just wanted your help with something."

I can see he's upset because he's worried me.

"No problem," I say.

As I pass by, I touch his stomach. It's something we both do when the need arises. The touch – a fleeting, fingers feathering, stroke across the stomach - has many functions; it restores communication, it revitalises energy, it reassures anxiety, it strengthens weakness, it bestows peace, it assures love, and so much more. This time, I touch him because I want to reassure myself that he's here and he's unharmed; and I want to let him know that my overreaction is my problem, not his, and he doesn't need to apologise.

Hutch POV

"I'm sorry, Starsk," I say again.

He was at the hospital with me until the small hours; then he had to work a day shift; and then he looked in on me to make sure I was all right, and bring me some more painkillers, before he went to visit Linda at the hospital. He has every right to be exhausted so it wasn't fair of me to call him…But he's always the first person I call when I need help and it was automatic to pick up the phone.

"I told you, it's no problem, Hutch. What do you need help with?"

I hold up my sore right hand by way of explanation. I can't lift my left hand – my arm hurts too much.

"I wanted some pasta for dinner but I can't open the jar. This hand is too sore to grip with and my left arm…well, it throbs when I move it. If I'd have been thinking straight, I could have asked one of the neighbours to help me…but my head's all over the place."

"I should have thought about how you were going to feed yourself tonight before I went home," Starsky says, sounding guilty. "Or maybe I should have stayed a bit longer. Sorry, babe, how about you sit down and I'll cook up some pasta?"

A wave of tiredness comes over me and I sigh with relief.

"Thanks. That would be great."

I sit on the sofa; it's covered with a throw to try to hide the shredded fabric. Huggy and Starsky have done their best to mend what was damaged; and take away what couldn't be saved. My plants are all back where they should be. There's hardly anything to show that anything has happened here…but inside my mind, I can see it all; the destroyed furniture; the abused plants; the smashed glass and china; and, most painful of all, my broken guitar.

I haven't had chance to look for a new sofa yet but I want to as soon as possible. I can't even think about replacing my guitar – at the moment, that thought fills me with sorrow. I want to try to erase all memories of what has taken place here…but I think it's going to be harder than I thought it would be, especially now that my home, my safe place, is full of menacing shadows lurking in dark corners. I've put on as many lights as I can but the shadows linger.

Starsky POV

I can see Hutch is bone tired - the pain he's in isn't helping - and I know he's going to have trouble sleeping tonight, even though he needs it desperately. I can also read his anxiety, coming off him in waves – the glances around the apartment to make sure everything is as it should be.

The place is lit up like a floodlit stadium.

My partner, my friend, the strongest person I know, is scared; scared to be in his own home. Thanks to Diana and her crazy obsession.

I should have listened when Hutch said he thought she was dangerous, but how was I to know? I've had jealous girlfriends before, and so has Hutch, but I've never come across anything like this. It was so far beyond the realm of normal, I can still hardly believe it.

As I get the water boiling and tip the pasta twirls in from the now opened jar, I wonder what I can do in the next few days to help Hutch get back to normal; to get back to feeling safe.

I decide the first thing is distraction.

"Linda's woken up," I tell him.

"That's good…I was really worried about her."

"Yeah, I popped in for a few minutes. I told her we'd both go see her tomorrow. She hates being in the hospital, and she especially hates the food."

We look at each other and exchange rueful glances; we've both known long stays in hospital and the delights of hospital food. Then Hutch's face darkens as he remembers why she's there. I can see, as plain as day, that he's blaming himself.

"Not your fault, babe."

He just sighs and wrinkles his face.

I strain the pasta and add a little tomato sauce and carry the two plates over to the table. Hutch has some parmesan in the fridge so I grab that and the cheese grater.

"Food's ready," I say.

Hutch struggles to get up off the sofa but he manages it, weaves his way to the kitchen table and sits down with a weary sigh. We eat in silence; both too tired to try to come up with topics for conversation. When he finishes, I offer to wash up and send him back to rest on the sofa.

I wash and dry the plates and pans then put them neatly away. By the time I finish, Hutch's head is nodding. I go to sit down next to him and his eyes fly open; the panic clearly shining in them before he registers my face. I pat his leg and he lets out a long, slow breath.

There's no way I can leave him alone tonight in this condition. He needs a good night's sleep and he's not going to get it if he's here alone.

"I'm too tired to drive home tonight, buddy. Okay if I crash on the sofa?" I say.

"It's always okay for you to crash here," Hutch says, then after a moment he adds, "Thanks, Starsk."

I smile at him reassuringly, trying to take away his fears. "You look beat, buddy. Why don't you go settle down? Do you need some more painkillers before you go to bed?"

He shakes his head. "I took some just before you got here…think that's what's making me so sleepy."

Yeah, that's what's making you sleepy…not the knife wound, or the fight to stay alive, or the night spent in the hospital being patched up, or the fear of a maniac hiding in dark corners.

I nod. "Get some sleep, babe. I'll be right here if you need anything."

He looks relieved as he gets up and slowly makes his way to the bedroom. He pauses in the doorway and I can see from his posture that he's checking it's safe before he fully enters the room. I hate what Diana has done to him and I think it might be a long road back to anywhere near normal. All I can do is make sure I'm there every step of the way – just like he'd be for me.

Hutch POV

I am so tired. I just want to close my eyes but every nerve is jangling even though I am not alone – Starsky's here so I don't need to be afraid. I hear him walk around, making sure everything is tidy, checking the windows, locking the front door, and turning off the lights, both big and small, until only one small lamp is left.

He peers through the open door at me.

"Door's locked, everything's secure," he says, and I feel myself start to relax.

For a moment, his eyes lock with mine, asking a gentle question. I nod and he turns off the bedroom light, plunging the room into momentary darkness…but it's okay, the small lamp in the living room is on and Starsky is still here.

"I'll leave the lamp on," he says matter-of-factly, as if it's okay for a grown man to be frightened of the dark. "I'll be right on the sofa if you need anything…Sleep well, Hutch."

"Thanks, Starsk, you too."

He moves away and I hear him snaffling a pillow and a blanket from the cupboard I keep them in and then settling down onto the sofa. Within minutes, he's asleep and snoring softly. The glow from the living room is tiny but it's enough. Like Starsky, it's a beacon of safety in a dark world. I feel his presence like a warm blanket soothing my fears and gradually I start to drift, knowing that however long the journey takes to make this anxious feeling go, Starsky will be there every step of the way.