'Freeze. Get away from him now' Hutch's voice sounded steely cold in the confines of the small room and Mickey's small body stopped. His back stiffening at the unforeseen interruption. The blond walked further into the room, his gun levelled at the little snitch's head as Mickey slowly rose from his knees by the side of the bound brunet.
'Hey…H Hutch. I um…I didn't…um…I just found him an'…I had no idea he was here. I was gonna see if he was all right then I was gonna call ya' Mickey blustered, facing the angry cop with shaking hands.
'Yeah, sure Mickey. You just happened to find him in the middle of a deserted cemetery in the late evening. What the hell were you doing? Going for an evening constitutional? Put down whatever's in your hands and hold them out, wrists together. Good. Now walk towards me, nice and easy'.
Mickey did as he was told and held out his wrists like a meek lamb as Hutch snicked on one of the cuffs. He looked around for something to anchor Mickey to. Seeing nothing but the bed, he dragged the small man outside and cuffed him to the door of his car. Snapping the cuffs on and checking that they were secure, Hutch holstered his weapon and hurried back into the crypt.
The gagging stench of ammonia was just as bad on the second entry to the crypt and Hutch looked around him, finding both a flashlight and several candles. He coughed, the smell catching in his throat and lit the candles quickly and then turned to regard his partner by the flickering light.
Starsky was laid on his back on the bed, his arms still tied to the bed head and his feet to the foot of the metal bedstead. The brunet seemed to be shaking, his arms pulling fitfully at the blood stained ropes surrounding his wrists and his head rolled back and forth on the filthy ticking mattress. Hutch knelt down by his side and realised with alarm that his partner's jeans and sweatshirt were filthy and wet. The smell of urine hung heavy in the air and Hutch cursed under his breath. He leaned forward.
'Starsk? It's me, Starsky?'
The voice seemed to penetrate his partner's fogged mind for a moment and the curly haired man stopped his thrashing, staring up at the flaxen haired cop.
'Papa?'
Hutch reacted as though he'd been slapped across the face. Starsky's voce was husky to the point of being almost unrecognisable and by the state of his wrists, Hutch couldn't decide how long he'd been laid on the bed and in his own mess. He stood.
'S'ok Starsk. Ssh s'ok. Wait right there buddy. I'll be right back' he said softly and reached down to run his hand through the chocolate curls. They were damp with sweat and matted. Starsky moaned as if the simple touch hurt and Hutch staggered away back out into the cold evening air. He walked back to the car and grabbed Mickey by the collar, drawing the little man up until he was stood on tiptoe.
'How long's he been here?' he asked, his face inches away from the snitch's.
Mickey looked at the anger in Hutch' eyes and knew it would be reckless to lie. 'Since Prudholm took him, mebe a week ago'.
'And how longs he been tied to that bed?'
Mickey's eyes slid sideways, refusing to acknowledge the accusation in the stormy ice blue orbs. 'All the time' he said in a small voice.
Hutch's hands let go of Mickey's collar reflexively. He stared at the small man. 'All the time? Prudholm never let him up? Fuck that's seven days. You mean he's been tied in that one position for a week?' He saw the frightened nod and his heart broke for his partner. He couldn't imagine how Starsky must feel, but it answered the smell, the wet and the mess.
He hurried back into the crypt and back to the brunet's side. Starsky was more agitated now. He'd expected Prudholm to come back and give him his next shot. It had been at least 7 hours since his last one and the effects of the heroin had worn off long ago. Now his cramps had returned full force, his skin sensitive to the touch so that the gentlest stroke felt like the sting of a whip. He sweated and cursed on the bed as he saw the figure above him, but his sight was blurred and in the dim light he couldn't make out who it was.
'G gimme some more huh?' he gasped, pulling again at his wrists and ankles and groaning at the pains.
'What? Starsk it's me, its Hutch. Hey buddy c'mon, lemme look at you' Hutch said gently, kneeling down next to Starsky's bed. He reached up to start to untie the bonds round the abraded, bleeding wrists when his eyes caught sight of the small puncture wounds tramlining the brunet's forearm. His finger brushed them lightly and his partner hissed, stiffening.
The blond moved around and checked the other arm, seeing similar tiny wounds there also. It explained the fever, the sweating and the shuddering and shaking. He counted twenty-two separate needle marks and his blood boiled.
'Starsky, it's me buddy' he said again, hoping to get some sort of reaction from his partner and again, the brunet stopped his shivering and listened to the sound of the familiar voice. But then the cramps coiled around his gut again and he cried out.
'Just gimme something…..gimme some more huh? I know ya got it. Fuck…I'll fuckin' kill ya…gimme another….oh crap, just shoot me up huh?' he said, his eyes imploring Hutch to set the needle against his arm.
The flaxen haired man looked around, seeing the syringe that Mickey had dropped on the floor. It contained a small amount of brown liquid and his worst fears were realised. Twenty-two shots of heroin! Oh my God. In the time he'd been taken, all those years ago he'd had only had seven forced upon him. And he was such a mess that for 48 hours he hadn't been able to think straight, past the pains and the cravings. How long had Starsky been without the drug? How long since his last shot?
He smoothed his hand over Starsky's forehead as the brunet tried to flinch away from his touch. 'Ssh, Starsk. Just listen to me huh? Its me. Its Hutch, remember Hutch?….Starsky?' Hutch rubbed his hands through his hair. This was his worst nightmare. Even worse than being addicted himself was the thought of his partner having to suffer the same bone crushing withdrawals. He looked down at Starsky. All the euphoria of finding his partner alive fled in the face of the enormity of the situation. What was he going to do now? There was no way he could let the brunet go to the hospital. A junkie cop was a cop who was out of the force, even if the drug had been inflicted on him. But at the same time, by the looks of the curly haired man, he needed medical treatment. Shit!
Starsky seemed to be listening to his voice now. He was quieter and his body wasn't shivering quite so much. Hutch tried again.
'Hey buddy. I got ya'.
'Starsky's lips worked on the unfamiliar word. 'Utch?'
'Uh huh. What've ya gone an' done now huh? Let me help you'.
Starsky's cracked lips spread into the ghost of a grin. 'What ….k kept ya…..Prudhom…..it was…P Prudho…argh, shit!' the pain took the brunet's breath away and his body stiffened as he thrashed his head from side to side, trying to rid himself of the cramps knotting his stomach.
Hutch wiped his hand over his partner's forehead and was about to start untying the ropes again when Starsky screamed out.
'Gimme the fuckin' shit man..I c can't do this. Hurts….oh God Hutch it hurts….just lemme up an' I'll d do it. Gimme the n needle…please…ahhh please?….please?' his struggles abated slightly but Hutch looked as though he'd been bitten by a snake. He never thought he'd hear his strong, stoical, incedibly brave partner asking to be injected with any sort of drug - he even hated the pain meds that the hospital occasionally forced upon him. He withdrew his hand from the ropes. If he was to untie Starsky now, apart from the pain the brunet would feel at trying to move arms that had been held in one position for seven days, he didn't want to have to fight the weary man over the syringe full of dope.
Hutch stood up and started to walk away, but Starsky yelled at him.
'Nooo, don't leave me. Don't go, please….gimme? ...leave a light on….hate the d dark. Don't leave me again. I'll be quiet…I'll shuddup….I w won't ask for the….just don't….don't leave' he tailed off into a sob and closed his eyes.
Hutch bent over the still tethered man.
'I'll be right back buddy. Just goin' t'make a call. Honest, I'll be right back and the lights are on. No darkness, Starsk. Promise…no more darkness'.
Starsky looked up at him, a child asking his Dad for permission to leave his nightlight on. 'Promise….you'll c come back?' he asked in a tiny voice.
Hutch couldn't trust his own voice to remain steady enough to answer. He simply nodded, turned and walked away, hearing the strangled whimper behind him.
He made his way back outside and reached into his car for the microphone, ignoring the little man still attached to his car by the cuffs. 'This is Zebra 3 requesting a patch through to Captain Dobey' he head the clicking on the other line and then he heard Dobey's gruff voice.
'Captain, Its Hutch. I've found him. At the old cemetery'.
'Is he ok?' Dobey asked, relief washing over him.
'No he isn't. Prudholm's had him tied to a bed for a week. He's in one hell of a mess…and he's um….Cap'n he's been injected. With heroin'.
'Oh shit! How much? Do you know?'
'I can find twenty-two needle marks. He's hurtin' Cap and he needs help, but I can't take him to the hospital. I don't know what to do'.
There was a pause. 'Hutch, as your Captain I should tell you to get him to Memorial, or at least get an ambulance there'.
'Yeah, I know' Hutch replied frostily.
'But as your friend, I hear where you're coming from. Is he hurt in any other way?'
'He's dirty, he's thin an' I think he's dehydrated. He needs some sort of medical attention, but I can't take him there, I just can't' Hutch said.
'Okay. I haven't said this, but can you get him up to my cabin in the hills, by Pine Lake?'
'Uh huh'.
'Ok well, take him up there an' I'll make sure you get some medical help'.
'How? He needs more'n' Huggy's black coffee. He needs a real doctor, although I could do with Huggy too'.
'Leave that to me. I'll call Huggy an' tell him to meet you up there. An' as for the doc, I think I can get ya one of those too'.
Hutch swayed with relief. A tide of gratefulness washed over him as he signed off the radio and hung the microphone up again. He ignored Mickey as he made his way back into the stone room again. He had a plan. He had somewhere to take Starsky and he had some place to treat his partner. Now all he needed to do was to get Starsky into the car.
Looking at the brunet, Hutch wondered how he was going to accomplish that. The sweat soaked man was thrashing against his bonds once again, crying out in his delirium and as Hutch approached the sodden mattress, Starsky's eyes flew wide.
'Utch?'
'Yeah buddy, right here'.
'Hutch it hurts. H hurts so much….I can't d do this…gimme?'
'I can't buddy. You know that'.
Starsky's face turned angry. 'Fuck you! I n need….just gimme another shot huh? Just one. After that I'll…I'll manage. Just another one..Just one? ….Please?' the brunet's eyes closed and he heaved against his bonds screaming in pain. The sounds tore at Hutch's heart. He knew how much the cravings hurt and so desperately wanted to make it all better for his partner – to take the pains away. At the same time he needed to keep Starsky safe enough to be in the car without doing anything crazy, or hurting himself or the blond.
Hutch looked at the syringe that Mickey had discarded. Was that the answer? Would one more shot make so much difference? If he was to try to move Starsky now, apart from the fact that the brunet might want to struggle to get more heroin, Hutch knew that his partner's joints would have seized up from their confinement and it would hurt like hell to move.
Indigo eyes watched him hungrily as he bent down and retrieved the syringe, looking at the ugly brown liquid in it's barrel. The blond looked back at his friend and made his decision.
With self loathing coursing through every vein in his body, Hutch knocked the air out of the syringe and looked for a vein on his partner's arm. Most of them had blown, collapsed by the acrid nature of the heroin, but finally he found one and rapidly slid the needle home before he changed his mind.
He watched as the shuddering body relaxed and Starsky sighed contentedly, closing his eyes as the rush overtook him. Hutch wiped away the single tear that escaped his eye before heaving a deep sigh of his own. He started to untie his friend from his bonds, easing the arms down until they rested at Starsky's sides. Even with the drug in his system, the brunet screamed out in pain and tried to rock away, but Hutch held him, soothing him until the shock of the movement had passed.
The blond walked back outside and silently uncuffed Mickey from the door of his car and lead the little snitch back into the crypt. He threaded the cuffs through the metal rails of the bed and snapped them shut again.
Without looking at the small man, Hutch picked up the seemingly feather light body of his partner. Starsky's body seemed boneless in it's utterly relaxed state and the blond cop carried it outside to his car, laying it tenderly onto the back seat. In the cold light of the evening, Hutch saw the "prison pallor" on his partner's usually tanned skin, the seven days of captivity in the dark leaving it's pale mark and he cursed. The noise caused Starsky to grunt and thrash out his arm, then cry out as the stiffened shoulder joints protested the movement. Hutch wondered for a moment. It would take an hour to get up to the cabin, traffic permitting. He didn't want Starsky to start coming down from the drug and struggling with him in the car. He sighed and withdrew his spare set of cuffs from the glove box. With a heavy heart he snapped then round Starsky's left wrist and anchored it to the door handle. The brunet moaned, but otherwise made no comment.
'Sorry buddy, but it's better than being tied up back in there'. Hutch said softly. 'Rest easy Starsk. Its gonna be a long bumpy road till you're recovered'.
He walked back to the crypt and started to close the door.
'Hey what're ya doin'? Don't leave me here. Ya can't leave me here. You're a cop. Cops don't do things like that' Mickey protested.
Hutch smiled grimly. 'Cops don't shoot up with horse either Mickey, but that's what you knew was happening to my partner. I'll tell the black and whites to swing by some time soon….if I remember'. He pushed the door closed and got into his car. The sooner he was out of the cemetery, the better.
