Chapter 16

Joe Boone stood back, looking at his victim with a bored eye. God how he hated Starsky! The curly haired cop was everything he'd come to loathe about his life and now he wanted to savour every moment he had with the wounded man. There was no compassion in his eyes and there was no softness to his voice as he continued his tirade against the world in general and Starsky in particular. His lifetime of being told he wasn't good enough, or he wasn't handsome enough or he just plain wasn't enough was condensed into this hour, this minute, this second and Boone wanted to enjoy every moment of what time he had. He wanted to vent his spleen against the injured man in the certain hope that at the end of it, when Starsky was dead, somehow he, Boone would be transformed into a new man, more handsome, smarter and the Metro's first Cop of the Year.

Starsky leaned heavily against the wall, his shoulder supporting him as his legs threatened to buckle under his weight. His eyes were closed as he concentrated on taking one deep breath after the other. Nothing else mattered at that moment other than living through the next minute or so. He opened his eyes a crack as Boone continued his soliloquy.

'Where's the great Dave Starsky now huh? See? I was right. They should never have had you back at work. You're a has-been. You aint fit enough any more old man. They took you back out of pity.'

The words continued to pierce Starsky's confidence. Was that right? Was there some truth in Boone's cruel words? He'd fought so long and hard to get back to physical and mental fitness and yet here he was, injured and in pain again, and this time, his body was rebelling. His target had always been to get back onto the streets with Hutch. That was his driver; his goal for the past eleven months but he'd never once seriously thought of the consequences – the fact that his job was dangerous and fraught with difficulty. What if they had taken him back out of some misguided sympathy? It was bad enough to be hurt once more, but what if he'd put Hutch's life in danger too?

Starsky licked his lips. 'You don't know what you're talkin' about' he mumbled, more for his own piece of mind than to rebuke Boone.

Boone grinned. 'Don't I? If you're so fuckin' good, c'mon, prove it. Take a swing at me. I'll even make it easy for ya and not move. C'mon, give it your best shot, old timer.'

Starsky looked up at the younger man and tried to straighten but something had happened to his damaged rib and as he moved a pain lanced through his side so severe that it dropped the cop to his knees with a groan. Immediately Boone was upon him, pulling Starsky's arms away from his body. The younger man looked down into the pain glazed eyes.

'Don't you pass out on me now. Don't you dare pass out on me. We have so much more to talk about, seeing as you're so chicken livered that you won't fight back.'

Starsky squinted up at Boone through a red haze of pain. He could only make out certain words above the fuzzy deafness in his left ear but he knew that Boone wasn't exactly soothing him. The time for keeping quiet had passed and Starsky had tried the calm approach to no avail. Now his temper surfaced and he struggled against the body that was straddling him and pinning him to the ground.

Boone grinned. 'That's better. I knew you'd fight back sooner or later. Shame you're so crap at it. And don't give me that "oh it hurts" routine. C'mon Starsky. Gimme something to work with here. Fight me back huh?'

Starsky's left knee rose, knocking Boone forwards unexpectedly. With only one weapon left at his disposal, Starsky did the only thing he could think of and as Boone was knocked forwards, he used the last of his energy to double himself up and nut his opponent cleanly between the eyes.

Boone sprang back, his hands flying to his head just as Starsky sagged back, the last of his reserves of energy spent. He had the satisfaction of seeing Boone wipe the tears from his eyes before the younger man was back on him. This time Boone's eyes were full of anger and Starsky concentrated on the cut and the blossoming bruise in the centre of Boone's forehead.

Boone cuffed Starsky across the side of his face, relaxing marginally as the brunet let out a low moan.

'You fight like a girl, but then again I always wondered which of you took the lead when you were in bed together. Was it Blondie? Was he the one who had ya moaning like a whore? I know the rumours weren't really rumours. Starsky and Hutch are so close…..course you are. You're fuckin' faggots, the both of you. Did you go down on him? Did ya? Wanna taste of a real man?' Boone lost himself in his blinding anger. He'd asked Starsky to fight back, but he'd never expected that someone so badly injured would do that. He'd heard all about Starsky at the Metro. In fact he'd heard so much about the partnership of Starsky and Hutch that he knew they couldn't really be as legendary as the other detectives made out. When he'd become a detective himself, Boone had imagined that he too would be partnered with some dynamic guy (or better still woman) and together they would topple Starsky and Hutch from their pedestal. To be partnered with an old timer like Clay Patterdale had been just his luck and over the ensuing months, Boone made himself believe that far from being legends, Hutch and his partner were two "has beens" who lived on their reputation. No-one could be that good, right? Everyone hated Boone, but he'd show them how good he was by exposing Starsky and Hutch for the frauds he knew they were. They were freakin' gays and no-one seemed ready to admit it. He'd show them all. Boone would prove it once and for all and as though to reinforce the point, the younger man kneeled up so that he could unzip his pants. He fumbled himself out of his clothing and was about to reach for Starsky's head. The brunet closed his eyes, his fight long since gone.

'Starsky?'

A familiar voice sounded outside the small room and immediately Boone stuffed himself away with a curse. Hutch launched himself into the room, rolling on his shoulder and coming to a crouch with his gun pointing firmly at the two men. For a second there was silence in the room.

'Hutch. Thank god you're here' Boone said quickly. 'I just found him. Oh God he's so badly hurt!'

Hutch ignored Boone and after one brief check to make sure the room was otherwise empty, he crawled forwards so that he could see his partner. Starsky's eyes were closed and Hutch knelt by the wounded man's side making a visual check.

'Starsk?' he said gently. 'Starsk. C'mon buddy, open your eyes.' Hutch placed a hand on Starsky's chest feeling the staccato beat of the heart within. The brunet's breath was shallow and ragged but at the touch, Hutch was rewarded by a glimmer of indigo beneath half open eyelids. He smiled reassuringly. 'Hey, there you are. You're gonna be ok buddy. I got ya.' But Hutch's words belied the fact that the blond wasn't so sure. A cold hand had gripped his chest and for a moment he was transported back to a bright spring day, a red and white car and the echo of machine gun fire. This couldn't be happening, not again. It was a dream or a damned nightmare.

Starsky's eyes were glazed and unfocussed. His face was a bloody mess of cuts and bruises with the whole of the left side swollen and hot to the touch. The left eye refused to open, but the right blinked and then settled on the blond.

'Utchsssssh……Boooo.' With his dislocated jaw it was incredibly tough for Starsky to make words form but he knew he needed to warn his partner about the younger cop. Hutch didn't seem to understand, however and was busy checking the injured body. Starsky struggled to raise his arm to grab a hold of Hutch's hand, desperate to make him understand.

Behind the two men, Boone peered down over Hutch's shoulder and slowly he grinned and drew his forefinger over his throat. Starsky watched the universal sign - It's all over. You're dead.

'Boooooone' Starsky forced out.

'I know, he's here. Stay with me buddy. Stay with me huh? I'm gonna get you out of here' Hutch muttered as his hands checked out Starsky's injuries. When his fingers brushed Starsky's left side, over his damaged rib, the brunet convulsed on the floor and Hutch withdrew his hands, suddenly unsure of himself.

'Go and get an ambulance Hutch. I'll stay with him' Boone said quietly. 'It was Patterdale. When I got here, he had Starsky tied to a chair and he was beating the crap out of him. I fought Patterdale off but…..oh God, I was too late to save Starsky. I'm sorry Hutch, truly I am, but the least I can do is stay with him whilst you radio for a meat wagon.'

Hutch looked up into the earnest young face and smiled. 'Thanks Boone. You probably saved his life. I can't believe Clay…..after all these years…..Jesus…. I ca…can't believe…..'

Boone took Hutch's shoulder kindly. 'Go get the medics huh? I'll stay with him.'

Hutch turned back to Starsky. He leaned close to Starsky's face. 'Buddy, I'm goin' for the ambulance. I'll be right back, ok? Boone is gonna stay here with ya.'

Starsky's eye fluttered open again. 'Noooo……sssssstay…….you.'

'I need to get help buddy. I'll be right back. I'm goin' now.' Hutch got up and took Boone by the shoulder. 'Stay with him, keep him awake huh? But keep him quiet. Be right back.'

Boone smiled. 'Sure thing Hutch. Anything I can do.' The younger cop lowered his voice. 'Do you think he's gonna make it?'

A shudder ran down Hutch's spine. 'Well the longer we talk, the harder he has to fight. I'll be right back.' The blond man ran for the door leaving Boone alone once more with his victim. Quickly Boone knelt by Starsky's body and was disconcerted to see anger and some defiance shining out of that one eye. Starsky didn't seem afraid of him any more. Why? The curly haired man should have been trying to crawl away. Boone was his death sentence, right? And yet here he was, almost unconscious but with that steely look in his eye. Boone was both angry and a little afraid in that moment. Afraid that Starsky might buck the odds and live and tell Hutch who had really beaten him –Starsky- to death. Despite everything and out of desperation, Boone took his flick knife and opened the blade, allowing Starsky to see the wicked three inch steel.

'Don't worry Starsky, I'll make it quick. The blade's sharp and it'll slip right in. Some say you don't even feel it. It was fun for a while, but now we have to say goodbye.'

'Fffffuck…..youuuuu' Starsky breathed as Boone leaned over him and sank the blade into his damaged left side.

Boone was right. There wasn't too much pain. Instead it seemed as though his side had just got warmer, as though he were sunbathing on a sunny day and the sunshine was hitting him along his ribs. There was a sense of inevitability now and Starsky came to realise that nothing else really mattered. He'd done his best and sadly his best wasn't good enough, but you win some and lose some. The brunet felt warm, although his hands and feet were growing numb and his vision in his one good eye was starting to speckle at the edges. He wished Hutch was back, so that he could be with the blond man at the end and a rush of sadness filled him, knowing how much Hutch would grieve at his death. He wanted a final chance to tell Hutch that it was fine, and it wasn't his fault and suddenly he was aware of movement near him again and he forced his eye open.

'Are ya still with me Starsk?' Hutch asked.

'Cold.'

'I know buddy. Lying on the floor does that to ya. Let me….' Hutch put his arm around Starsky's body and his fingers brushed something hard. He peered over and saw the hilt of the knife sticking out obscenely from between Starsky's ribs, a growing pool of blood forming on the ground beneath the injured body.

'Oh God, Starsk. I di..didn't see it. I saw…I mean I didn't….. Boone gimme your shirt, quick.' Hutch was already stripping off his own jacket and over shirt and balling them so that he could push them around the knife wound to try to stem the blood flow. Reluctantly Boone too stripped off his overshirt and handed it to the blond. Hutch hardly seemed to notice as he continued talking to Starsky, low, insistent and gentle.

'C'mon ya big lug. Open your eyes. Open your eyes Starsk…..I need to …..to see….I need to see those baby blues. I nee….need to see your eyes Starsky. STARSKY!'

The sound of Hutch's voice was already muffled but it seemed to be coming from a long way away and it was so much effort to open his eye, but whatever Hutch wanted he usually got and so Starsky duly obliged.

'Stay with me Starsk. Look at m..m..me. Focus on me b..b..babe, the ambulance is coming. Hold on huh?

It took a moment for Starsky to realise that Hutch's stammer was back. That was never a good sign and he made every effort to look up into Hutch's eyes, wanting the taller man to be comforted.

'S'cold…..ffffeel cold……'urts……ssssside.' Starsky moved his hand towards the knife in his side and gently Hutch blocked it's path.

'Leave it Starsk. I know it hurts, but you gotta leave it huh?' Hutch looked up at Boone. 'Help me hold his arms down huh?'

'Shouldn't we take it out? It's hurting him' Boone said.

'No, we leave it in otherwise he could bleed to death.'

'He looks like he's dying anyhow' the younger man almost whispered.

Hutch reached for Boone and took a hold of his tee shirt, drawing the younger cop close. 'Don't say that. Don't ever say that punk. He lives, ok? Starsky is gonna live goddamit or I'll want to know the reason why.'