Disclaimer: This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of Starsky and Hutch.
Warning: "Episodes" might be considered a dark tale and contains some graphic scenes and foul language that may be offensive to some readers. This story also revolves around a paranormal/metaphysical genre; if this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. I would hate to spoil someone's fun.
Aloha everyone . . . Whew! I was able to retrieve the rest of this story from my old hard drive that just crashed and burned the other day . . . so Eli . . . you can be rest assured that I will be able to post the rest of this story cause I sure wasn't gonna rewrite it!. LOL!
--oo Episodes oo-
By: Shawne 'til dawn
. . . CHAPTER 11 . . .
Hutch crept silently into the side door that led to the kitchen of the safe house. Crouched behind the countertop, the blond peered around its edges, his senses on high alert. It was quiet . . . too quiet. Hutch pressed his back against the wooden cabinets that sat under the counter, his heavy magnum held out to his side.
He knew that to get to Starsky's room, he would have to pass through the living room and then go down the hallway where there would be no cover. The tall blond strained to hear the sound of sirens, but all was still.
'Damn!' Hutch thought silently, knowing it would be foolish to dash in there, but just the thought of his wounded partner at the mercy of that sick murderer, made the detective resolved to try.
'Hang on Starsk, I'm here now . . .' Hutch whispered quietly to himself, hoping his partner would sense his presence. 'He would if f he were still alive,' a small voice whispered in his head, and the blond angrily pushed that morbid thought away, upset with himself for even thinking that in the first place. If Starsky were dead, he would know it. . . his heart would feel it. No. Starsky was definitely alive, the question though . . . was for how long?
Hutch got down to the floor and crawled commando style over to the back of one of the couches in the living room. The blond cop quickly hunched over and sprinted to its edge, his pale blue eyes widening, as he caught sight of Robert's sightless eyes staring at him when he peered around the edge of the leather furniture.
Hutch quickly withdrew behind the couch, shaken, drawing in quick breaths. The young cop had apparently been sitting when he had been killed, falling down in front of the couch. From where he was crouched, Hutch could only see the upper torso of the man, his lower body hidden behind the furniture. It sickened the sensitive blond to see the young police officer who had helped him last night with his partner, lying dead like that, cut down in the prime of his life. The front of Robert's shirt was soaked red with blood, the knife embedded to the hilt in the young cop's chest. 'Stabbed in the heart,' Hutch surmised, as he closed his eyes and shook his head. Breathing heavily, he suppressed the urge to gag, trying to clear his mind of those eyes that somehow seemed to be glaring at him in accusation for getting here so late.
"Shit," Hutch whispered, peering around the couch again, his eyes suddenly catching sight of the other dead officers, their bloody corpses lay motionless, strewn about the living room. Knives were protruding out in various parts of their bodies, making them resemble grotesque mannequins seemingly lying about in a macabre display for some advertisement of the latest horror flick.
Hutch got to the hallway, his eyes spotting the matronly nurse dressed in her white uniform, lying just outside of the doorway to Starsky's room. Her throat had obviously been slit, the blood, soaking into the carpet beneath her, resembled a red halo surrounding her head. She looked like an angel that had been ritualistically sacrificed at a perverse gathering of some cult. The unwanted face of Simon Marcus rose in the mind's eye of the blond detective, and he pushed down the fear that image brought to the surface.
Starsky.
The blond swallowed hard, making his way to the doorway to peep inside, his gun held high, pointing to the ceiling, as his horror filled eyes darted wildly about the room; from the empty bed, to the metal bedpan lying overturned, to the sheets and blankets hanging over the side of the mussed bed, to the blood on the floor. 'Oh god, where are you Starsky?' his mind screamed silently.
"He's right here . . ." a low voice called from a distance, sounding almost hollow as it bounced off the walls and echoed down the deserted hallway. Hutch whipped around, peering down the corridor, seeing a door at the far end slightly ajar. If he remembered the layout of the house correctly, that door led to a storage room or den of some sort.
"That's it cop . . . I got your friend in here, and if you want to keep him alive, you better listen up. You can't see me, but I can see you. I want you to throw your gun into that bedroom behind you and I want you to walk on over to this door with your hands locked behind your head," the voice instructed from behind the door.
"You wanna deal? You lemme see my partner first," Hutch said, his voice harsh and angry, as he pointed his gun down the corridor, maneuvering his body into the doorframe of Starsky's room, his pale blue gaze locked on the door down the hall that stood between him and his partner. Hutch ached to storm down the hallway, knowing Starsky was hurt and wounded. His partner had just come out of surgery for Christ's sake, and though he knew the brunet was tough, there was no way he would be able to stand up against the killer in his weakened condition.
"You're in no position to make demands cop," the voice droned out, "I'll kill him right now, if you don't do as I . . ."
Hutch interjected harshly, "How stupid do you think I am? My partner might be already dead. If you wanna deal . . . I need to see him alive first!" the blond angrily snapped, pale blue eyes frozen on the door down the hall, his heart hammering on the thought that his partner might indeed be dead.
There was a pregnant pause for a moment, as Hutch waited with bated breath to see what would happen. He could feel his body grow rigid and tense as the door slowly creaked open another inch, and he strained his eyes to peer into the distant darkness within.
Nothing.
The door had only opened a fraction more and it was impossible to see anything from where he was standing. After several seconds of waiting, Hutch called out again, "Just let me see my partner and if he's alive, I'll come out . . . maybe we can work something out huh?" When nothing was heard, Hutch cautiously ventured out into the hallway, knowing there was no cover for him at all . . . knowing that he would be a sitting duck . . .knowing he was making a foolish move, but knowing that his partner needed him, far outweighed everything else.
The blond detective crept out, ready to duck or roll away at the slightest movement of the door, which remained strangely still. Hutch could feel the sweat dripping down the sides of his face and back, as he made his way stealthily towards the partially opened portal.
Safely reaching the end of the hallway, Hutch stood to the side of the door with his back pressed against the wall, his detective senses screaming out a warning, his lithe body ready to react, his adrenaline singing through his veins as he cautiously pushed the door open.
Breathing heavily, the blond whipped his body into the entranceway, crouching low, his magnum held out before him, as his eyes darted about the interior of the storage room, adjusting to the dim light that came from the one opened window at the right side of the room.
Hutch could see his partner, lying unconscious on his side, a dirty rag tied around his mouth, effectively gagging him. After making sure that no one else was in the room, Hutch slid to his knees next to his prone partner who had his arms tied tightly behind his back with what appeared to be a cut telephone cord.
"Hang on buddy," the blond said soothingly, attempting to keep the worry from his voice, as he eyed the blood stained bandages on his partner's lower abdomen, "Let me take a look at you . . ."
Hutch quickly untied his friend, first the gag and then the cords, hearing a soft moan from his partner as his arms fell limply to his sides. He carefully rolled his partner onto his back and lifted him gently against his chest, hoping to comfort the brunet with his touch, as he saw Starsky's dark, lashes begin to flutter and slowly rise, the familiar blue peeping up from beneath them brought a sense of relief to the tall blond, and he let out the soft breath of air that he had been unconsciously holding in.
"Hey pal," Hutch smiled down reassuringly at his partner's dazed expression, squeezing him tighter against his warm chest, as he listened to the brunet's labored breathing, " Shh . . . it's okay Starsk . . . I got you now buddy."
Starsky visibly stiffened as Hutch probed the back his head, his long fingers connecting with the gash he received from the bastard who had obviously hit him, then fled through the opened window like the coward that he was. "Easy buddy . . ." Hutch murmured, as the dark haired detective gasped softly and began to struggle feebly.
"Hutsh?" Starsky groaned, coming around as waves of pain buffeted his body. He could feel the warmth of his partner's embrace, feeling safe as Hutch held him close. "Hutch? Oh . . . my head . . . " the brunet gasped softly, his hand reaching for the back of his head.
"Yeah . . . right here Gordo . . . take it easy," Hutch whispered, "You got hit on the head from behind . . . he left through that window over there . . ." Hutch said, keeping his voice soft and soothing as he reached down to examine his partner's lower abdomen.
His roving hand was immediately stopped and was weakly grasped by Starsky's bloodstained fingers, "No . . . don't," the brunet gasped sharply, his breathing shallow and rapid.
"You're bleeding again Starsk . . . I just want to check and make sure . . ."
"'m fine . . . jus' tore some stitches . . . the creep . . . weighed a ton," Starsky rasped, grinning lopsidedly when he saw the small smile that tweaked the corners of the blond's mouth. Although his body was riddled with pain, the warm feeling of being in his partner's embrace filled Starsky with a lethargic feeling of safety and peace. The brunet looked dazedly around the small storage room, "Did you . . . find Mari?"
"Yeah, she's fine buddy. I left her outside in the car . . ."
"You what?" Starsky gasped, as he attempted to sit up, groaning softly at the sudden movement, his hand clenching his lower abdomen as he gritted his teeth against the lancing pain.
"Take it easy buddy," Hutch soothed, noting the sudden fear and anxiety that washed over his partner's pale, glistening face, "Shh . . . don't move . . . help's on the way." Hutch gently turned his partner's head, so that he could look at the trickle of blood that ran down the side of the brunet's neck.
"Hutch . . . he went after her." Starsky gasped, "He had me standing in front of him, tied up and gagged . . . he was waitin' for you to throw your gun down . . . watching you . . . through the small opening of the doorway . . . when all of a sudden . . . I felt him tense up . . . heard him say Mari's name . . . next thing you're here . . . and he's gone . . ."
Hutch could feel the color drain from his face as he pictured the small woman crouched on the litter-strewn floor of his car with the killer creeping up on her. "You mean he sensed she was outside?"
"Go Hutch . . ." Starsky gasped, "'m fine . . . need to help her . . ." The brunet could feel his partner squeeze him tighter against his chest, indecision making the blond hesitate. Starsky knew that his partner didn't want to leave him alone like this, especially if he was hurt.
"Hutch will you go on?" Starsky said firmly, "She don't . . . stand a chance against him. Jus' lock me in here . . . if it'll make you feel better . . .I'll be fine . . ." the dark haired detective said reassuringly, knowing how protective his blond friend got whenever he was wounded and vulnerable.
Hutch bit his lip in indecision, as he thought of and rejected the different scenarios that raced through his mind. The thought of leaving his hurt partner alone in here made his skin crawl, but he knew Starsky was right . . . Mari would die if that bastard got a hold of her, and she was defenseless out there. There was no way that he could drag or carry his partner with him and race back to the car in time to help Mari. The tall blond felt a weak tug on the sleeve of his jacket and looked down into stormy blue depths that locked onto him with a determined frown.
"Dammit Hutch . . ." Starsky swore, struggling to sit up again.
"Okay . . . okay," Hutch soothed, "I'm going. Look, I'm going to move you over by the window, hang on okay?" At the brunet's curt nod, Hutch stood and dragged his partner under his arms over to the far wall beside the window, carefully leaning Starsky against it. The tall blond crouched beside his partner, listening to the labored breathing of the dark haired detective as he tried to get a handle on the pain that coursed through his body. Hutch knew that dragging him by the arms the way he did, stretched the stitched wounds even more, but it was faster than picking him up.
"You okay?" Hutch whispered, glancing down at his partner after cautiously peeping through the window, failing to keep the anxiety from his soft voice as he gazed down at his hurting partner with worry.
Starsky gasped, attempting to control the pain that pierced his side with each breath that he drew in, "Yeah . . . whatta ya see?"
"Nothing. I parked the car away from the house. I can't see it from here." Hutch said softly, crouching down next to the brunet, the worry and anxiety he felt for both his partner and Mari caused the furrow to deepen between his pale brows.
The blond detective closed and locked the window. "Look Starsk . . . you take this and keep it pointed to the door," Hutch said, handing his magnum over to his wounded partner, "I'm going to lock you in here . . . it might get a little warm but . . ."
"No . . ." Starsky said through gritted teeth, refusing the weapon, "Ain't gonna take it . . . you need it out there Hutch . . . who knows what else he has . . . besides knives . . ."
Hutch looked over to where his partner's hand covered the stained and bloodied bandages that wrapped around his abdomen. It killed him to have to leave Starsky like this, hurt and defenseless. What if the killer came back here when he left to look for Mari? How would Starsky defend himself in his weakened condition?
"Hutch . . . will you go on?" Starsky rasped, his blue eyes flashing with impatience, "I can take care of myself." The brunet knew how difficult this was for his partner and he straightened up, biting back the groan that wanted to escape from the jolting pain that the simple movement had caused.
"Alright, I'm going!" Hutch snapped, the stress and anxiety he felt brought his anger to the forefront, making his usually soft and gentle voice, seem suddenly hard and abrupt. He knew what his partner was trying to do and though he understood it, it still irritated him to know he was being forced to leave.
A small grin tweaked the corners of the brunet's mouth, "Now there's the Hutch I know
. . ." Starsky whispered, his dark blue eyes growing soft with affection as he winked at his frustrated partner.
Hutch glared at his partner then snorted softly, lowering his golden head to press his forehead gently against the soft, sable curls of his dark haired friend, who in turn, reached up to finger the silky locks at the nape of the blond's neck.
"I'll be fine Hutch," the brunet whispered breathlessly, letting Hutch's baby fine tendrils slip through his fingers, "Ain't gonna miss the turkey that Huggy's gonna roast this year for nuthin'. . ." Starsky grinned, "Thanksgiving's the next best holiday . . . next to Christmas . . . all them grinds to eat . . ."
Hutch snorted softly, "Yeah, it would be you to think of food at a time like this. Look, I'm locking you in here and you better be here when I come back . . . you hear me Gordo?" Hutch whispered softly against the shell of his partner's ear, his voice soft and intimate with the love and concern he felt for the brunet. At Starsky's slight nod, Hutch reluctantly pulled away, feeling the slight trembling and the soft gasp that came from his hurt filled partner who struggled to ride out the sudden pain that lanced in his side. It killed him to have to leave Starsky like this . . . so vulnerable and so alone.
Taking a deep breath, Starsky raised dark blue to his partner's, "Ain't goin' nowhere . . ." Starsky said, feeling suddenly weary, giving in to the pain and exhaustion that wracked his body, but feeling pleased just the same because he had gotten his way with his stubborn, worried friend. Hutch really had no choice in the matter. He had to go. They both knew that. They were cops first and they had taken a vow to serve and protect. Starsky felt his partner gently squeeze his shoulder once more before he stood and made his move towards the door.
"Hey," Starsky whispered softly, stopping the blond in his tracks, "Be careful out there . . ." The brunet heard a small snort come from his fair headed partner, and he watched as Hutch moved across the small room to the door.
The tall blond detective cautiously opened the door and glanced down the deserted hallway, dreading to see the bodies strewn out in the living room. He looked back to his dark haired friend who was slouched against the wall, his hand over his mid-section, blood trickling down the side of his neck; Starsky's breathing was too rapid and shallow for his liking.
It tore Hutch up to leave his partner defenseless like this. Guilt and worry must have been apparent on his face because he saw his partner suddenly frown again, dark blue eyes connecting to pale ones across the small expanse of the dimly lit room, "You hang on buddy . . ." Hutch said softly, sky blue eyes softening with suppressed emotions.
Starsky swallowed down the lump in his throat as their gazes locked, "Yeah . . . and you watch you're back out there Blintz." To willingly send his best friend out there alone with a lunatic running about was the hardest thing for the brunet to do. Their eyes locked once more, sky blue to stormy cobalt. "See ya . . ." Starsky whispered softly.
The dark haired detective saw his blond partner give a small nod and then he was gone, locking the door behind him as he left. Starsky slowly let out a breath, unaware he had been holding it until Hutch was gone. The brunet closed his eyes, long dark lashes fanned out against pale, damp cheeks, as he said a silent prayer for his partner's . . . and Mari's well being.
To be continued . . .