Chapter 19

Hutch looked at his little bedside clock. It was just over an hour since his partner had headed out into the blackness, and as yet, he hadn't returned. At first, Hutch had thought that this was another one of the famous Starsky ideas, like the stones and the guinea pigs. He'd fully expected the brunette to come back after a few minutes, ringing wet and complaining about English weather. As the time went by, though, the blond started wondering if there was any substance to what Starsky had said. Did he see Hannah in his room? He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Don't be so idiotic, Hutchinson. But the fact that Starsky hadn't returned was beginning to worry him.

He limped across the room and peered out of the window again, trying desperately to see if he could see the brunette in the dark and rain, hoping his partner would come round the corner of the house, cursing. But no. Nothing. He limped back and out into the corridor, pausing at Sam's room half afraid to wake her and explain his friend had gone out into the night chasing a whim. He knocked gently, then a little harder, but there was no answer. Cursing, he went back to check the driveway, but her car wasn't there – she must still be at work. Wonderful – that was ll he needed. To have the whole of the Lancashire constabulary on alert for a mad American detective who halucinates!

He went downstairs, taking it cautiously, and picked up the telephone. He thumbed through the address book and finding what he needed, dialled the number of the police station. The desk sergeant answered.

'Hi. Could I speak with Detective Sam Fielding please, its fairly urgent?'

There was a pause, then a click as the line was picked up and Sam's voice answered 'DS Fielding'.

'Sam, I'm sorry to get you at work, but Starsky's missing. He woke me up in a real stress. He said Hannah told him he had to go up to the lake. He said if he wasn't back in an hour to call for backup. I know it seems stupid, the weather is foul, but…..can you get a patrol car?'

'You say he said Hannah told him to?' Sam asked.

'Yeah.He was real insistent that he had to go. He's done some stupid things in his time, but he really looked like he beieived what he had to do. I know it's dumb' he finished lamely.

'No, it's not daft at all. If I know Hannah, there'll be some reason why he needed to go up there' she said. 'Stay put, I'll be home with backup in about 45 minutes, OK?'

'Ah, yeah, that's fine. But I'm not staying here. If you're as certain as all that that he saw this woman, then I'm gonna head up there myself. There's something that doesn't feel right, ya know?'

Sam knew Hutch well enough not to argue. 'OK, but be careful. I'll be there as soon as I can'. She put the phone down and Hutch struggled back upstairs to get some suitable clothes on.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Five minutes later the blond opened the door and struggled out into the storm. The thunder had passed overhead now and the wind had backed down a little, but the rain still beat against him as he struggled up the path he knew his partner had taken. It was difficult for him. The uneven ground didn't embrace the heavy limp the blond had, and he was unable to get a rhythm in his step. Unable to stop it, the little dog came with him, running ahead, then darting back to make sure Hutch was following. The pain in his leg was bad, but Hutch tried to ignore it, worry for the brunette overtaking everything else, the adrenalin of the moment, allowing the blond to forge ahead.

Seemingly a year later, Hutch got to the top op the hill, panting hard. He bent over to relieve the ache in his chest, the remnants of the fever he had had earlier, and to catch his breath. He stood, looking around him, wondering which direction Starsky might have taken, the visibility in the abating storm being still close to zero. Luckily, Bobby seemed to know exactly where he was headed and Hutch forced himself to follow the little brown and white animal as it bounded ahead, now barking in excitement.

As he passed the small body of water, its surface glinting dully in the meagre light and headed towards the trees, Hutch hoped he was going in the right direction. He remembered Starsky telling him about a woodland area and made his way to the tree line, his clothes sticking to his body with a mixture of rain and sweat, the moisture turning his flaxen hair a darkened golden colour in the dim light, now that the moon had started to peek out from behind the clouds. His fringe, which he usually kept swept back from his face was now plastered over his forehead, dripping water down the rats tails it formed down into his eyes. As the blond gained the trees, the rain mercifully stopped altogether. Hutch looked around him, wondering who in their right mind would actually come up here on a night like this. Not seeing anything immediately he shouted. 'Starsk? Starsky, you there?'

No answer. He plunged on, the little dog now running back to him, barking frantically. He followed and in the distance saw two shapes looming out of the shadows. Hurrying as much as his injured leg would allow, he shouted again, now certain one of the shapes was his partner.

'Starsky?'

He plunged towards the two masses, now identifiable as bodies, one flat on the ground, the other slumped against a tree. As he came nearer, he recognised his partner, back against the tree trunk, chin resting on his chest. He saw the rain soaked clothes, the sodden hair and the rapidly expanding stain on his right hand side. Starsky's eyes were closed. Oh, fuck, Gordo. What in hells name have you done this time?

Making a cursory check of the second body, flipping it over and checking for a pulse, he found it dead. Hutch knelt with stiffly and with difficulty next to the brunette, gently cupping the handsome wet face in his hands.

'Starsk?' he asked, quietly, terrified at what he might find. His hand went to the side of his partner's neck and thankfully found a weak pulse. He tried again, tapping gently against the cheek.

'Hey Starsky, ya with me buddy?'

The eye lids fluttered and Hutch leaned forward to hear his partner's muttered words.

'Hannah? Don't leave me. You're so beautiful, don't go', he mumbled

'Starsk, it's me, Hutch. Open your eyes for me buddy'.

He was rewarded with a brief flash of indigo. 'Utch? What kept ya?' Starsky muttered. 'Where's Hannah? She was 'ere. Where's she g gone?'

Hutch looked around him. 'No one's here but us Gordo. You OK. What happened?'

Starsky was shivering with the cold and wet. 'g guy there was the k killer. He knifed m me then fell on the b blade. 'Shit, 'urts', he gasped, clutching his side again.

Hutch took off his sweater, balling it up to push it against the wound.

'I know it hurts, buddy, but helps on the way. Just stay with me here, Starsk. Starsky?' but his partner had passed out.

Hutch manoeuvred himself round so that he was leaning against the tree with Starsky's body cradled in his arms, trying to keep as much warmth as possible there. He rested his chin on the top of his unconscious partner's head. 'Some vacation huh?' he said.

Bobby ran backwards and forwards between the trees and the lake, as if knowing others would come. If only they'd get here soon, Hutch thought. He was feeling cold and shaky himself and rested his head back against the tree, closing his eyes to ride out the wait.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

There were bright lights above him and it had stopped raining. He felt dry and warm and comfortable apart from the stinging pain he still had in his side. Were they stars and the moon? No, too bright for that. And there was a smell too. Not wet grass and water. It was a clinical smell, one that was all too familiar to him. As Starsky's sense returned, he heard a familiar voice saying oh too familiar words.

'Starsk, ya gonna awake up? C'mon Starsk, lets see those blues'. The velvet voice that he hung on to, when he needed something to anchor him.

The brunette obliged and squinted a little at the bright light above him. He recognised the set-up, the table, the bright light, the busy motion around him.

'Hey Blintz' he rasped. 'Which ER this time?'

'One you've never tried before' Hutch chuckled. 'Ya can give it a star rating later. Do a kind of comparison analysis, American versus English. How ya feelin'?'

'Sore! And tired and fed up. Had about as much vacation as I can handle. But we got the bad guy'. He smiled at the memory.

Hutch furrowed his brow. 'Nah. No 'we' about it, Gordo. You got the bad guy all by yourself'. Hutch's hand trailed down to the large white dressing on his partner's right side. 'Even if he did get you first'.

'We got him, Blondie. Me an' Hannah' he snuggled his head into the pillow smiling at the memory of the woman's hands on his body. Whilst he'd been waiting for the help he knew would come, she had sat by him, holding him and easing away his pain. She'd told him everything would be alright and that help was coming. She'd put her tiny hand on his forehead and he'd looked into those magical green eyes, loosing himself in their depths.

He must have drifted into a sleep, because the next thing he remembered was the touch of a far larger and rougher hand, bringing him back from darkness, and Hutch's voice, strained with worry, asking if he was OK.

Starsky settled back against the pillow, knowing the score. ER for a few hours, transfer to a ward for a couple of days, then home with lots of instructions and the blond fussing over him. He'd been down this road before, too many times. But this time, he felt differently. Was it that he knew he hadn't been badly hurt? Maybe. But more than that, it was Hannah, sitting with him in the dark, making him believe in himself and making sure he knew that everything would work out. As his dark lashes closed over the cobalt blue eyes, his mind went back to "Hannah of the Hands".