Feedback: I want all I can get…(I think?)

Disclaimer: I make no money from this. Starsky and Hutch do not belong to me, I just borrow them, and promise to return them in the same condition I found them in. My characters do belong to me, and I can use them as I see fit, until they start fighting back.

Author's Note: Here is more requested h/c. More comfort than hurt in this chapter.

I really do appreciate everyone's kind words. Thanks for reading and reviewing. You all know who you are…

Chapter Eight

Hutch pulled his LTD up to the corner of Fifth and Main Street. He and Huggy were a few minutes early. They decided to sit and wait.

"Who are we waiting for?" Hutch asked Huggy.

"Her name is Suzie. I don't recall ever makin' her acquaintance, but she says she knows who we are." Huggy's tone was somewhat up lifted now that they had a lead on Starsky.

"So we're just supposed to sit here and wait for her to contact us?"

"That's the plan."

"Well I don't like it." Hutch snapped.

"Do you complain this much 'round Starsky?" Huggy shot his friend a sideways glance. "Man, no wonder why he's always so moody."

Hutch smiled as he looked out the window, watching the people passing by.

About ten minutes had gone by when an older woman approached Huggy at the passenger window of Hutch's car, startling the black man.

"You two lookin' for Suzie?" She slurred, reeking of booze. Her hair was salt and pepper color. She wore a knit cap and matching brown scarf.

"Yeah, that's right." Huggy answered. "What's it to ya'?"

"She gave me a message for you." Alcohol was not the only reason her words were slurred, she also didn't have any teeth.

"What's the message?" Hutch asked, ducking his head lower so he could see out Huggy's window.

"It'll cost ya'." She spat as she spoke.

"Of course it will." Hutch responded, looking at his black friend as he reached deep in his pocket pulling out a handful of bills. He took out a ten and handed to Huggy, who passed it along. The woman quickly took her fee and shoved into her bra, smiling back at them.

"She wants you to meet her down that alley, back there ." She said pointing behind their car. "It ain't safe out here, in the open."

Hutch looked over at Huggy, then back up to the stranger at the window. "Did she say anything else?"

"Not that I can remember." The woman answered.

"That's comforting." Huggy said sarcastically.

Hutch smiled as he started the car, pulling forward and making a U-turn, heading back to the alley. He pulled into the narrow pathway, being careful not to hit the mounds of garbage and wooden palates on either side of him. He brought the car to a stop about halfway down the dead ended path.

Turning off the engine, he turned to Huggy. "I don't like this."

"I feel ya'"

No sooner had the words left his mouth, than the sound of gunfire pierced through the air. Hutch instinctively reached over and pulled Huggy down on the front seat, covering his friend. Glass sprayed both occupants as the front window of Hutch's car was shot out.

"Stay down!" Hutch shouted as he pulled his Magnum from it's holster. He restarted the car, and slammed it into reverse, hitting the accelerator. The car lurched backwards, then with the sound of crunching metal and broken glass, came to an abrupt halt.

Lifting himself up so he could see, Hutch looked out the back window. He had not seen the large utility vehicle that pulled in behind him, trapping them in the alley. Picking up the radio, he called for help.

"This is Zebra 3, Code 9, we're 11-99. Request assistance, alley at Fifth and Main, repeat need assistance!" He rattled off, throwing back down the hand set.

"10-4 Zebra 3." Mildred responded.

Hutch opened the driver's side door. Once the gunfire subsided, he slowly slid out of the car. Looking back at Huggy, he waived him to stay put.

"Well, I wasn't exactly plannin' on joinin' you. Contrary to popular belief, not all black men can run fast!" He retorted.

Hutch stayed low as Huggy watched him crawl away from the car. He did exactly what Hutch had instructed him to do, he stayed put and stayed down.

XXXX

Starsky laid there, blinking slowly. The only thing he was able to concentrate on, was how much his head hurt. It hurt to blink, it hurt to think, it even hurt to breathe. He wasn't sure exactly where he was, or how long he'd been there. All he did know was he was no longer in the living room. The room he was in now, was dark and musty. He could see shadows as his eyes started to adjust. He tried to sit up, but the jack hammer in his head forced him to stay put for the moment. He lifted his hand to his head, breathing deeply, trying to quiet the pounding to a tolerable level.

It took a few minutes for the curly haired detective to remember what had happened. In the darkness, he heard a moan. Turning his head in the direction the moan had come from, he strained his ears and heard another softer moan.

Fighting the pain and the nausea he was feeling, Starsky propped himself up on his side with his elbow underneath him. He squeezed his eyes shut tight to keep them from falling out of their sockets and onto the ground.

Rubbing the side of his head and squinting his eyes, he could barely make out the form of someone, moving slightly, several feet away. A third moan coming from that direction.

"Sandy?" He called to her quietly, dragging himself along the ground, closer to her limp form. "Is that you, Sandy?" He placed his hand on the person on the floor in front of him, he felt her move.

"Hey, you okay?" He bent down closer to her, she was still hidden in the shadows. Starsky could hear her breathing rapidly.

"I'm still…I'm alive…" She gasped. It was obviously very difficult for her to talk. She held her breath for a brief moment, then coughed lightly as she exhaled, groaning with the air she released.

He looked around the room. Against the far wall, he saw light shining through a small opening of a heavily draped window. Crawling on his hands and knees, he made his way over to the window. Pulling hard on the heavy curtain, he yanked it down, rod and all. Looking briefly out the window, he noted two things; 1). It was daylight outside. The sunlight hurting his head so badly, he had to close his eyes for a moment. 2). The window was nailed shut and there were security bars placed on the outside. He figured they were there more to keep people in, than out.

He turned to crawl back to Sandy, keeping all his weight off his swollen, painful ankle. He took the drapes with him to use as bedding to make Sandy more comfortable on the floor. As he approached the tiny figure huddled against the wall with her back to him, he spoke softly.

"Are you hurt?" She didn't answer. "What'd they do to you, honey?" He placed his hand on the small of her back, feeling her tense up. "It's okay, let me take a look." He tried to encourage her to roll over so he could see her.

"Please, don't." She begged.

"What's wrong?"

"It hurts." Her voice cracked.

"What hurts you?" He spoke so gently.

Sandy took a deep breath and rolled towards Starsky. As she turned onto her back, she let out a loud grunt. "Dammit!" She exclaimed, in pain.

"Shit!" Escaped his lips before he could stop it. He was startled by her appearance her left eye was black and purple, swollen almost completely shut. The cut below her eye had stopped bleeding, but there was dried blood over her face and in her hair. The sickening feeling Starsky was fighting earlier, returned with a vengeance.

"That bad, huh?" She said trying to refrain from coughing. He saw she was missing one of her front teeth.

"You're gonna be fine." He said optimistically. His eyes darted back and forth over the entire length of her body, not sure what to do first. He could tell she was having trouble breathing, she would take several quick pants, then a slow shallow one. The color was drained from her face. She looked at him, he could see both the pain and the fear in her eyes.

"Does it hurt to breathe?" He asked with deep concern.

She nodded her head up and down.

"Mind if I take a look?" He asked lifting up the bottom of her shirt slightly.

"Go ahead." She answered in almost a whisper.

He lifted her shirt and looked at both sides of her abdomen. Starsky lowered the shirt quickly, letting out a sigh of concern and disgust.

"Oh boy." He muttered scanning the room. Both sides of her rib cage were severely discolored, indicating she had some broken ribs. How many, he wasn't sure, but he guessed eight.

"I need you to sit up, it'll hurt like hell, but it'll be easier for you to breathe." He was glad that his first aid training was coming back to him.

"I'll try." She groaned, attempting to push herself up. "Oh God, it hurts." She gasped.

"I know it does." Starsky tried to help her, mostly providing support, as she made the painful transfer to reposition herself.

Starsky winced when she did, he held his breath when she held hers. Once she was in the upright position, he helped her turn so she could lean her back against the wall. She let out several small whimpers, but Starsky couldn't help but be impressed with how tough she was.

"Atta girl." He praised her. Grabbing the drapery, he began tearing them into strips. She tilted her head up, staring at the ceiling, breathing in rapid, shallow successions. "Hang in there, sweetheart." He said as he ripped the curtains apart.

Using some of the strips of cloth, he did his best to wrap her ribs, binding them tightly, to alleviate some of the pain.

"Is that any better?" He asked when he was done, proud of his first aid skills.

"Yeah…Now it only hurts when I breathe." She quipped as she grabbed her side, than managed a faint smile. "Thanks…Detective Hutchinson, right?"

"No, that's my partner, I'm Dave Starsky." He returned the smile, thinking how much he wished Hutch was here to play the 'I'm Starsky, he's Hutch' game with him.

"Well, thanks, Dave Starsky." She moaned as she tried to shift her position against the wall. Starsky managed to scoot himself against the wall next to her.

"Don't mention it."

They heard the bedroom door unlock and the knob turn…

XXXX

Huggy heard the sirens in the distance. He hoped they were closer than they sounded. The gun fire had ceased some time ago, but he hadn't seen hide nor hair of Hutch. He found himself praying that Hutch was alright and unharmed. First Sandy, then Starsky, now Hutch? He didn't know what he'd do if something had happened to the Blond Blintz. It was painfully obvious this was another set-up, and he, once again, led the other half of the duo, right into it.

To Be Continued