Chapter 15

The room was dark, only the dim neon blue light above the bed illuminating the darkness above Hutch's bed as the blond slept the sleep of the dead. In the 12 hours since the doctor had been to visit, he seemed to do nothing but sleep, although he had to admit that in his waking periods he felt warmer, more relaxed and and more comfortable then he had done in months. If only he could get things straight between himself and his brunet partner, the world would look completely rosy.

Semi awake, Hutch let his mind drift back to that fateful day and the events that led up to the shooting, feeling strong enough to allow himself to run over the events for the first time since the incident.

Hutch picked Starsky up in his battered mud coloured beater of an LTD early that morning. Once again, the brunet was still in bed and once again, Hutch chanced his partner's wrath as he hammered on the door.

A moment later a sleepy, curly head appeared around the bedroom door and Hutch actually took a step back. Starsky looked grey, ashen in fact, dark smudges ringing his eyes and his cheeks hollow and gaunt. He seemed to have aged ten years over night and Hutch's "partner senses" were suddenly on high alert.

'Oh my God Gordo, what the hell? Are you ok? Are ya sick?'

Starsky leaned heavily against the wall and shook his head. 'Dunno…..m'fine. Well, not fine but. Just tired I guess. Didn't seem to sleep much. What time is it?'

'Just gone eight.'

'Shit. Gimme ten minutes to shower, I'll be right with ya.'

'You said that yesterday, and the day before. What is it partner? D'ya need a new alarm clock or something?'

Blazing indigo eyes stared at him and it was obvious Starsky was battling with his temper. 'I said I'm goin' for a shower. What more do ya want?'

'Nothin' other than to know what's eatin' ya. You've been worse than a bear with a sore head for days. I'm worried about ya buddy, nothin' more'n that.'

The brunet backed down a little. 'I'm fine. Just tired and sick of crank calls in the middle of the night. I'll be better after a shower.'

Hutch shook his head. 'You're not fit to be in work buddy. You should probably see the doctor' he raised his hand as Starsky started to complain. 'I know what you think of 'em, but Jeez Starsk, take a look at yourself.'

'I said I'm fine' the brunet snapped and headed for the bathroom. Hutch sighed. OK, so more of the same then. He was beginning to loose patience with his partner. He'd put up with some crazy behaviour in the past, but this was so unlike the brunet. A few minutes later, the bathroom door was wrenched open so hard it almost came off the hinges and Starsky stalked back into his bedroom leaving wet footprints in his wake. Muffled curses sounded and finally he emerged minutes later, shouldering into his holster over the top of his favourite navy blue tee shirt.

'Ready' he grunted and headed for the door as Hutch followed on in his wake, trotting down the steps and getting into the car. As they got in, Hutch cast a sidelong glance at his partner. Starsky still looked weary, the still wet curls doing nothing to make him look any better.

'So, where to?' the blond asked as he started the engine.

'The fairground down by the pier' Starsky answered promptly.

'Huh? Why there?' Hutch was surprised at just how decisively his partner answered.

'I have a hunch.'

'Does that equate to a twinge in your big toe? What kinda hunch? About the children's home?'

'Yeah. I just…. I have this really strong feeling that we're gonna find something there. I can't explain it but it's like a compulsion to go down there. What do we have to lose?'

The blond shook his head. 'Nothing. Fairground it is' he said, wondering what the hell that venue could have to do with the current case, but relieved that Starsky was finally taking an interest. It was the first time since they'd started to investigate that Starsky had actually made any decisions regarding the murders other than his continual comments that Edgar Fisher was innocent. Hutch turned the car onto the on ramp of the freeway and headed out of town towards the coast road, hitting the sun drenched ribbon of blacktop at about 9:00am.

As they got towards the boardwalk next to the fairground, Starsky started to get restless, sitting forward in the car and looking around him as though searching for someone or something.

'Ya lost something?' Hutch asked mildly.

'Huh? No, nuthin. Why?'

'You look like you're expecting something to jump out an' hit ya. I just wondered' the blond asked, feeling rattled by his partner's odd behaviour. But he'd always trusted Starsky's instincts in the past and those instincts had, on more than one occasion, saved his life and solved cases. Sometimes, the brunet was the world champion of lateral thinking and over the years the flaxen haired cop had learned to go with the flow, irrespective of how lunatic that flow appeared to be. He pulled the car into the parking lot and drove slowly over to the entrance gate to the fairground. It was empty at this time of day of course and had that desolate, deserted air that fairgrounds usually have in the daylight hours. There was still the smell of old popcorn and cotton candy on the breeze and the chains from the merrygoround clanked against the pretty painted horses.

There was a gate across the entrance, but the padlock hung drunkenly from the chain and as though he knew it would be undone, Starsky pushed the chain link gate open and walked through it. Hutch followed, looking around curiously. As the brunet moved to one side, Hutch walked further on, poking into the popcorn stand and pausing by the glass booth containing the laughing clown.

There seemed to be nothing in the place that remotely looked like it might have anything to do with the skeletons of five children, the only tenuous link the blond could come up with being that the fairground was on the coast road, but on the opposite side of the city.

Hutch was about to turn and shout to his partner that he thought this was a wild goose chase when he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye and faced it straight on. From the corner of the payment booth a little way away, a tall thin man walked out, his eyes fixed on the flaxen haired cop. He started to walk straight towards him and Hutch looked up curiously, appraising the man as he came.

'Nice to finally meet you face to face Detective Hutchinson' the man said, stopping a short distance from the cop.

'Sorry, do I know you?'

'We haven't been formally introduced, no.'

'So….how come you know my name. Have you got information for us?' Hutch asked, stopping in his tracks. Something about the thin man made him wary. He had a hooked beak type nose and his eyes bored into the blond's soul. His eyes were a watery blue and seemed never to blink. They held Hutch's gaze without wavering and made the cop feel uncomfortable and off kilter.

'Information? Well maybe. Will I give it to you? No, I don't think so. That's not why I'm here.' The voice was calm, cold. It pierced like a dagger into Hutch's consciousness and for a moment, the flaxen haired cop seemed transfixed by the man. Hutch shook himself mentally.

'Look, turkey. I've got places to be. Either tell me what ya came here to tell me, or beat it. I aint got the time to be waitin' round here' Hutch snapped. He'd taken an instant dislike to the flake and didn't like his attitude.

The man shook his head slowly. 'Tut! Come, come Detective. I thought you cops were thorough. I thought you wanted to drill your snitches for all their information. Don't you want to…..what's the term? Pump me?'

The blond snickered. 'To be honest I wouldn't touch ya with a ten-foot pole. If you've got information, tell me. If you haven't, then don't waste my time huh?'

'Your partner was much more forthcoming' the stranger said suddenly.

'My par….. you've spoken to my partner? When?' Hutch looked around and saw Starsky walking towards him from the back. Unsuspecting, he turned his attention back to the thin man.

'Oh yes. We've had a few conversations these past nights. He's very….compliant. Aren't you David?'

For some reason, Hutch felt the need to keep his eyes on the man. But at the same time, he wanted to reassure himself that Starsky was ok. There was something about the stranger that was beginning to creep him out.

'Buddy, are you ok?' Hutch threw over his shoulder. For some reason, he never actually thought about drawing his gun. Strange, for a man who had once admitted he never even visited his Mom without taking his weapon, and yet his hand didn't even twitch in the direction of his holster.

'David is just fine. In fact, David is better than fine. Aren't you David?' the man said a little more loudly. 'David wanted to see the merrygoround' didn't you?'

Hutch's eyebrows came together in a scowl. 'What the hell are you talkin' about? Who are you? What're you…' the blond cop turned and the breath froze in his throat as he saw his partner standing 50 yards away and pointing his Smith and Wesson straight at Hutch's heart.

His focus now entirely on Starsky, Hutch turned fully to meet his partner's gaze. Even from that distance, he could see that there was a far away look in Starsky's deep blue eyes. It was the sort of look a drunk might get, or a man recovering from an epileptic episode. The look said that Starsky was walking and breathing but his thought processes were somewhere else completely.

The brunet stood in classic firing posture, feet regulation 12 inches apart, knees bent and weight over the balls of his feet and arms straight out, right hand cupped around the left as the index finger of his left hand rested against the trigger.

Hutch's heart hammered in his chest, his only thought being for his partner's wellbeing. 'Starsk, what're ya doin' buddy?' he asked quietly, but received no reply. He tried again, a little more sharply.

'Starsky, put the gun down buddy. It's me, Hutch. Starsk!'

Behind him he heard a cold chuckle. 'He doesn't hear you. He's mine.'

'Yours? What the….STARSK! Put the gun down buddy. Please, put the fu….noo!'

As Hutch tried to throw himself sideways, he heard the rapport of the gun and felt the hot metal tear into his chest almost simultaneously. He dropped like a stone to the ground as a second shot rang out, impacting near to the first slug and he curled into a ball on the ground, the breath knocked from his chest by the twin impacts. Hutch felt as though his chest were on fire. He fought to suck oxygen into his body as he struggled to keep his eyes open and trained on his partner.

Starsky stood stock still as sirens could be heard in the distance. Who had called the cops, Hutch would never know but as the three players in the game waited, time seemed to slow to a standstill. The thin man walked over to the downed cop and knelt by his side.

'That'll teach you to meddle with things you don't understand. Let that be your dying thought, Detective' the thin man said coldly. Hutch tried to speak. He tried to call for his partner, but Starsky was still standing where he'd been when he shot Hutch the gun hanging limply in his hands. A black and white could be heard coming onto the parking lot and the man stood, walking swiftly over to the brunet. He placed a hand on his shoulder and hissed 'Release' into Starsky's ear before bending the cop's arm up his back as though apprehending him. As the uniformed officers ran into the fairground, the man became excited, and thrust the dazed brunet at the cop.

'I saw the whole thing officer. He shot that man over there. He just shot him! I think he's dead, or dying. He needs an ambulance.'

The cop looked at the man being held and recognised him instantly as a fellow cop. Starsky was swaying, shaking his head from side to side as though he'd been asleep and was trying to wake up and as he heard his captor mention ambulance, he seemed to come to his senses. 'What? Ambulance? Why…?' Shrugging himself away from the thin man's grasp, the brunet walked over as if in a daze to the blond on the ground. Hutch's eyes were closed and his breathing was loud and irregular as he struggled to heave lungfulls of oxygen into his body. Starsky looked down at his partner and knelt by his side. His hand made to grasp for the brunet's, but Starsky couldn't bring himself to touch his partner, his head fuzzy, but the gun still hot in his hands. He dropped it, vague memories of shooting at someone echoing around the windmills of his mind, and slowly reality hit.

'Hutch! Oh my God. Did I?…. Hutch?…..Fuck no!'

The brunet stood up, his face creased with sorrow and more remorse than he thought he could bear and fumbled in his back pocket, pulling his own cuffs out. Without another word, he snapped them on his own wrists and without a backwards glance walked slowly past the stunned cops to go an sit in the back of the black and white.

'Oh Starsk, what the hell is goin' on buddy? Why? What were ya doin'? Who was that guy? Was it? Oh my god! Was it….?' The door to his hospital room flying open interrupted Hutch's thoughts. Traff appeared, an intense look on his face. The blond jumped and looked up.

'Traff? It's the middle of the night. What're ya…'

'It's Curly. Hutch it's Curly. I had a call from Warden Mallozzi. Something's happened to him and he's…he's hurt. He's hurt bad. They don't know if he's gonna make it. They're bringing him here right now.'

Um - due to popular demand - another chapter tonight - will Starsky make it?