This chap's a little long…sorry, found it hard to break it up without breaking the roll of it. Thanks for all the positive critiques for Chapter 1. Hope you enjoy this next one…

(Sorry, just a repost for a few typos-I'm a horrible proofreader!-I apologize now for any more I may haved missed.)

Chapter Two

At seven-thirty-eight, still not fully functional, Starsky pulled the Torino up in front of Venice Place. Mounting the steps to the second level, he knocked on the door but didn't bother to wait for an answer. Reaching above the jam for the key, he let himself in as he suppressed a wide yawn. When he entered, not to his surprise, he found Hutch was already showered, dressed and finishing his morning dose of decimated liver in the disguise of a shake.

"Hey, Starsk."

Starsky gave a grunt in reply.

Hutch took a good look at his partner dressed in his crummiest pair of faded blue jeans and a light blue cotton shirt with the tails hanging out beneath the leather jacket, his unruly curls only partially tamed, noticing the dark circles under his friend's eyes.

"Man buddy, you look like crap," Hutch commented.

"Thanks for that winning observation," Starsky replied sourly.

Hutch offered him the remains of his health shake still left in the blender.

Starsky stared at him like he was nuts.

"You sure you're all right?"

Starsky groused back. "I'm fine, Hutch, just tired. Would feel a hell of a lot better if we weren't stuck on the morning shift this rotation."

While it was true the two seasoned detectives usually worked the second shift, they were often required to work first shift which meant being at the precinct by eight a.m. It was no secret Starsky preferred the afternoon rotation, yet his counterpart never seemed to mind getting an earlier start to the day. In the end it mattered little because it wasn't unusual for both to put in twelve to fourteen hour days simply because the criminal element didn't necessarily believe in punching any type of time clock. The only upside to the long hours was the overtime pay, especially on a cop's salary.

Of course, whenever they went on an undercover assignment, that was an entirely different ball game, like the one they had just finished at Cabrillo State, a mental institution, investigating the suspicious deaths of four inmates.

It was following this assignment that Starsky's sleepless nights had begun. The nightmares only happened on rare occasions, and most of the time, after a night or two, he'd get a grip on them and they would once again disappear back into the realm of his past where they belonged. Except for the last week and a half. For some reason they continued to plague him, leaving him increasingly tired, cranky and moody.

Hutch had noticed, like he did about everything when it came to matters of his partner, but it had still taken several hours of prodding, poking and general mother henning before Starsky had finally confessed to what was bugging him.

Still Starsky had refused to talk much about it. Instead he focused his energy on finishing the necessary reports against Dr. Matwick that Dobey and the D.A.'s Office had been hounding them for. This fact in itself when it came to paperwork, had alerted Hutch's suspicions that all was still not right with his partner.

Over the course of the week Starsky had deliberately ignored the concerned sideways glances thrown his way, convinced once the case was closed, the nightmares would disappear and they both could get back to business as usual. Hutch, reading his partner's stubbornness in the matter, had been forced to accept his decision, for now.

"Well, cheer up buddy. After this shift we've got two whole days off. You can sleep in."

Though the prospect sounded enjoyable, after last night, Starsky really wasn't looking forward to spending another evening alone in his own company. He thought about asking Hutch over to his place. The Lakers were playing the Knicks and it promised to be a good game. Both teams were hot this year. They could pick up a pizza and a six pack.

"Hey, Hutch wanna…" Starsky started to voice the suggestion but was interrupted by the phone ringing.

Hutch grabbed it. "Hello."

Starsky sighed. Guess he could ask him later.

He wandered into the kitchen. Trying to suppress another yawn, he opened the fridge and snooped around for something remotely appealing he could call breakfast since he hadn't eaten before leaving his own apartment. He ignored the goat's milk, pushed aside the jar of wheat germ powder, the containers of yogurt and something green in a glass bowl Starsky didn't even want to guess what it could be, finally spying a lone root beer in the back.

Retrieving a bottle opener, he listened to the one side conversation as he popped the cap off the soda.

"Yeah…it's really good to…uh hear from you too, Ashley." The boyish Minnesota face smiled into the receiver.

Despite his grumpiness, the left corner of Starsky's mouth lifted.

Ashley was an airline stewardess Hutch had met a few months ago on a trip back home to Bay City, the only good highlight that had come out of a family visit back to Duluth, at least from what Starsky had gathered from the sappy, dopey smile his partner had worn for two days after.

"Really? That's great!"

Still listening and not being concerned in the least that he was technically eavesdropping, he went about rummaging through his partner's cabinets for something solid to go along with his root beer.

Hutch's hand went up to the back of his neck and he bowed his head slightly, a shy nervous gesture that didn't go unnoticed by his tired but still observant partner. "A lay over you say?"

A pause.

The blond blushed.

Starsky snickered under his breath as he took down a box of cereal, read the words "natural whole grain granola," grimaced and put it back.

"Uh…no…uh…I mean yes…sure…I'd like that too…"

It didn't take much detective work to guess the conversation and Starsky rolled his eyes only to be awarded by a glare from his partner causing his smirk to widen even further in response as he reached to open another cabinet.

A second later he was pelted upside the head with something.

"Hey!"

It was a muffin, which landed in the sink.

"What? Oh, no…that was just my annoying partner," Hutch said quickly into the receiver.

Starsky snorted, offended.

He then picked up the dark brown muffin, examining the raisins on top and with a shrug of his shoulders took a bite. After only a few chews though, he grimaced. Seconds later his mouth was suddenly sucked dry of all saliva and it took several swigs of root beer to force the sawdust texture down.

It was Hutch's turn to grin back at the disgusted look on his partner's face before returning his attention to Ashley. "What? Yeah…that…uh would be great! Pick you up tonight? Sure…uh…I can do that. See you then."

He hung up, smiling dopily again.

Starsky sighed. Well, looks like you're soloing it tonight, Davey, he thought sullenly.

Hutch glanced up at the clock. "Crap! Dobey's gonna have our hides!" He grabbed his jacket.

With a sour grunt, Starsky chucked the muffin into the trashcan and followed his partner out the door

Twenty-eight minutes past eight Hutch pushed open the swinging doors to the squad room followed by his slower moving partner.

"Come on, Starsky. Hurry up! We're already late!"

"Hey, I'm not the one who was chatting on the phone this morning making plans to get laid," he miffed.

Hutch blushed slightly when a couple of the other detectives' heads in the squad room came up in response to Starsky's comment.

Shedding out of the light weight jacket and draping it over the wooden chair at the end of a row of desks all butted up against each other, Hutch muttered back, "Yeah…well...I'm not the one who insisted on stopping to get coffee and donuts either!"

Starsky, either oblivious to the stares or just didn't care, set the small white bag down on the desk directly opposite his partner and replied irritably, "I was hungry and you didn't have crap at your place."

He took off the worn leather jacket before plopping tiredly down in his seat. Peeling the lid off the Styrofoam cup, he took a sip of the sugar and cream laden coffee.

Reading the exhausted, grumpy look on his partner's face, Hutch let him be, both out of sympathy and self preservation, hoping that after his friend had gotten his caffeine fix in for the morning he'd be in a better mood.

While Hutch went about pulling the last of the Cabrillo case files out of his desk, Starsky swung his legs up, resting the blue Adidas sneakers on the corner of his desk and tipped his chair back. He then dug out a sugar powdered jelly donut from the bag.

He'd only gotten a few bites of it before the door to Dobey's office suddenly opened. Immediately the big black man glanced at the clock then focused his attention on Starsky.

"You're late!"

Dobey then looked down at the man's scruffy attire and scrutinized the wild mayhem of curls exploding out of the brunet's head. "And didn't I tell you, Starsky, to get a damn haircut once you finished the Cabrillo case!"

In process of licking some jelly off his fingers and wiping the powdered sugar off the side of his mouth with his thumb, Starsky replied, "Sorry, Cap. Haven't had time. Hutch and I've been pretty busy trying to wrap up this case."

"Yeah, I can see just how busy you are," the overweight Captain replied sarcastically to the seated detective with powdered sugar sprinkled across his shirt. "And what did I tell you about eating in the damn squad room during working hours!"

"Uh…Sorry."

He attempted to brush the white powder off his shirt.

"And get your damn feet off the desk! This isn't the break room either!"

Starsky dropped his legs to the floor, looking over at Hutch whom Dobey seemed to be completely ignoring.

Hutch sat quietly, trying really hard to hide a grin over the pretense of studiously examining a deposition.

Dobey continued his tirade, which seemed to be solely and rather unfairly directed at the brunet.

"And by the way, Starsky, what the hell is this?"

Something was shoved under his nose. He looked at it. "It's an expense receipt."

"For a fake mustache?"

"It was for my disguise."

"This is not what the Department considers a legitimate expense!"

"But Nurse Ratchet wouldn't give it back ta me," Starsky whinned.

"And I suppose this one for a…." Dobey paused and scrutinized the receipt. "What the hell is a damn roach motel, anyway?"

"It's a little box for catching roaches in."

"And why the hell do you want the Department to reimburse you for them?"

"Well, it's like this, Cap, we had a few escapees."

"Escapees?"

"After the first annual Cabrillo Roach Races," Starsky tried to explain.

"Roach Races!"

"I would'a won too if Boycroft hadn't killed the Cabrillo Kid!"

"Starsky, were you sniffing old paint in there or something?" Dobey thundered.

"We needed a distraction," Starsky tried to explain.

"That is true, Captain," Hutch finally piped in.

"I don't want to hear it!" Dobey tore up the receipts.

Starsky's temper flared. "Hey, those were legitimate expenses!"

"Can it Starsky!" Dobey snapped. "And now if you're done stuffing your face with donuts, you and your partner get off your butts and hit the streets! You're on routine patrol today."

Both looked up surprised.

"But Cap, we were hoping to finish up the paperwork on the Cabrillo case today," Hutch replied.

"It will have to wait. I've already had three sick calls this morning and we're short staffed. As it is, if it ends up the same tomorrow, I might have to pull you two in from your day off."

"We've already worked five days straight," Starsky whinned.

"Can't be helped, so get your butts out the door! And, Starsky," Dobey glared at the brunet. "Get your damn hair cut!" He repeated.

Before Starsky could argue further Dobey stormed back into his office and slammed the door causing both detectives to cringe, muttering something about damn grapefruit and celery under his breath.

Less than five minutes later, the two detectives were making their way out of the squad room.

"Geez! What's with him? He's pissier than a John with an STD of late!" Starsky muttered heatedly as they walked down the corridor heading for the parking lot.

Minnie seeing her favorite pair of detectives strutting down the hall called out from the doorway of R&I. "Hi, boys."

"Hey, Minnie," Hutch said pleasantly, stopping.

"Hey," Starsky grunted.

"What's the matter, Curly?"

"Nothin'."

"Dobey's in a bad mood again," Hutch explained.

"Aw." Minnie nodded in understanding.

"Yeah. And takin' all out on me! I don't get it. What's his beef anyway?"

"Dobey has to loose thirty pounds," Minnie informed them.

"Terrific. I may need to request a transfer before then," Starsky muttered.

"According to inside gossip," Minnie continued. "Mrs. D's got him on some low fat, low carbohydrate, cleansing celery and grapefruit diet."

"Sounds like something you'd eat, Blondie, and actually like it," Starsky snickered.

"There's nothing wrong with treating your body respectfully, Starsk. Besides a good detoxifying every once in a while is probably a good thing for Dobey."

Starsky glared at his partner. "Might be a good thing for Dobey, but there ain't nothing good about for me. You hear him in there? I feel like I'm his regular punching bag of late!"

"Well buddy, you just have a special way about you," Hutch grinned sympathetically and slapped him on the back, for it did indeed seem his partner tended to be on the receiving end of Dobey's wrath more so than any one else whenever the Captain was in a bad mood.

They soon left the precinct and spent the better part of the first half of their shift dealing with petty ante calls that kept the two detectives busy throughout most of an increasingly warm day.

Hutch of course didn't bother to mention the fact that if Starsky hadn't worn that stupid leather jacket he was so fond of he wouldn't be sweating like a pig right now.

By the time Starsky wanted to stop at his favorite burrito place for lunch it was nearly ninety. By then both detectives were hot, tired and sweaty and conversation with the brunet had dwindled to clipped yes and no answers.

Unfortunately a 2-11 call from dispatch squelched Starsky's plans.

Hutch retrieved the mars light, slapped it on the roof of the Torino, and switched on the siren while Starsky flipped a u-turn.

When they arrived at the mom and pop grocery store they found their culprit being detained by the blunt end of a broom stick held by a very angry clerk with a swollen bruise over his left check.

Both detectives looked down at the detainee, a little old lady holding a large embroidered purse.

Starsky flashed his badge at the clerk.

"'Bout time you showed up! I want her arrested officers for robbery and assault!"

"You've got no right to detain me, young man," she said tearfully. "I'm just a poor old woman."

The clerk sneered. "Poor old woman my ass. You've been ripping me off for weeks you old hag!" He jabbed the end of the broom into the old lady's face. "But this time I finally caught you red handed and you're going down!"

Starsky reached over to grab the broom out of the clerk's hand at the same instant Granny took a swing at the shop owner with her very large purse, but missed.

The bottom corner of the purse impacted dead center on a particular part of Starsky's anatomy that made him suddenly double over, leaving him momentarily speechless. The contents in the purse, which included several cans of tuna, three packs of Virginia Slims, a handful of candy bars and a porn magazine spilled out onto the floor.

Hutch grabbed Granny restraining her and promptly received a kick in the shin from an orthopedic shoe. The "frail" old lady then begun to spew a mouthful of profanity that would have made a sailor blush.

While Starsky stared back dumbfounded still trying to recover from the assault to his family jewels, his partner cuffed the suspect and read her her rights.

"You okay?" Hutch asked.

Starsky took in a deep breath and managed a strangled, "Terrific," in reply.

Hutch took the old woman into custody, placing her in the back of the Torino while Starsky gingerly made his way to the driver's side. In a sympathetic gesture, Hutch offered to drive only to receive a scowl in return.

On the rather uncomfortable ride back to the precinct, from the rearview mirror Starsky saw the old lady smiling lasciviously.

After booking Granny and finding she had a petty theft rap sheet a mile long, they still had a few more hours on their beat. Hutch suggested they call it a day and try and work on some of their paperwork but Starsky opted to grin and bear it for a few more hours when he heard Dobey bellowing at Bigalow down the hall.

The two detectives had three more calls before their shift ended. By then Little Davey was almost back to normal.

The first one was an indecent exposure call that ended up to be a John thrown out of a sleazy motel room on his bare ass when he refused to pay for services rendered and was trying to hide his assets behind a "For Sale - $1,000 OBO" sign he'd ripped off a car window in the parking lot.

The second was a domestic disturbance call which turned out to be an argument between a husband and wife over which way to correctly stack the dishes in the dishwasher and something about the proper way to roll a toothpaste tube. It had ended with the ninety pound husband sporting a bloody nose and a frying pan sailing out the kitchen window missing both partners by mere inches.

Their last call simply came in as a man on a roof screaming.

Starsky rolled his eyes irritably. "For Christ sakes, can't we just get a quiet stiff?"

For once, Hutch agreed.

When they arrived at the scene the address turned out to be an auto shop. When they inquired within, a mechanic told them a thief had tried to break into their specialty parts room and was currently up on the roof screaming.

"Why is he screaming?" Hutch asked.

The mechanic only grinned. "Go see for yourself."

The two detectives went back outside to examine the three story high structure.

"How do we get up there?" Hutch asked.

The mechanic pointed to a fire escape at the far side of the building. "But I'd be careful, man. Bozer isn't in a very good mood."

"Who's Bozer?" Starsky inquired.

The mechanic simply grinned and walked away leaving the two detectives to stare at each other.

The fire escape ladder was retracted up, requiring one to give a boost to the other to release it.

Hutch interlaced his fingers together forming a stirrup and looked at his partner.

Starsky merely stared back.

"Age before beauty," the blond reminded him.

"I'm only a few months older than you!" Starsky groused.

It was a usual tease between them.

"And still not gettin' any younger, partner."

With a sigh Starsky put his foot in Hutch's hand and was boosted up to the first rung of the ladder. Once up, he released the mechanism that allowed the ladder to slide down so his partner could follow.

Once up top, Starsky peered over the edge. The scene before him took the cop by surprise. "What the heck?"

Hutch, now directly underneath him asked, "What? What's going on?"

Starsky shushed him, motioning him to come up quietly as he eased himself onto the roof.

Hutch followed, drawing his magnum, his senses on high alert.

When he poked his head up he immediately saw what had taken his partner by surprise.

The would be auto parts thief was standing precariously on top of an air conditioning unit with the better part of the entire left side of his pants missing, the exposed buttocks and thigh covered in blood. His shirt was also ripped to shreds. Below, the biggest Rottweiler they had ever seen had his teeth bared, snarling at the thief.

"Bozer?" Hutch asked.

"Uh…I would say that would be a yes," Starsky replied.

The thief spotted the two men. "Help me!" he screamed.

The dog turned and lunged towards the two detectives who hastily scrambled back towards a set of crates and some junk stacked up on the roof.

Starsky's left foot hit something slick and slipped out from underneath him, causing him to fall onto his left shoulder. Hutch grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pulled him back behind the crates.

The dog stopped its charge a few feet from them, growled, then trotted back to the thief.

Starsky got up onto his knees and looked down at the sleeve of his leather jacket which was covered in some kind of grease.

"Damn!"

The thief shouted for help.

"We're the police," Hutch yelled.

"I don't care! I give up! I give up! Just get this monster off me!"

The dog was guarding the thief like a meaty bone.

The two detectives looked at each other.

"What are we gonna do?" Starsky asked.

Hutch thought. "Uh….Well, one of us could distract the dog, while I rescue the suspect?"

"One of us, huh? Why me?"

Hutch grinned. "Well, you run faster?"

"Terrific," Starsky muttered.

Hutch re-holstered the magnum. He looked around, found a broken wooden chair next to the crates and offered it to his partner.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Tame a lion?"

Starsky rolled his eyes. "You're gonna owe me a beer after this, I swear!"

The two partners separated.

Starsky moved around to the other side of the suspect while Bozer watched from his post, snarling. "Good dog. Good dog," he said calmly. The dog followed him around to the back side of the air conditioning unit watching the brunet while Hutch got into position. "No one's gonna hurt you, pal. We're the good guys and we're just here to take the bad guy away."

The dog advanced away from the suspect, muscles bunching around thick shoulders and torso. "Hutch," he continued to speak softly. "This, uh, would be a good time to make your move."

While his partner moved in and grabbed the suspect, the Rottweiler bolted for Starsky who promptly let out a scream, backed away and raised the chair out in front of him. It was immediately clamped down on by powerful jaws and a set of very sharp teeth.

Hutch grabbed the thief and assisted him over to the fire escape and for a man with an injured leg and bleeding from his buttocks, he managed to move pretty fast.

Starsky wrangled with the dog with the chair disintegrating quickly between them watching until he saw the blond head disappear from his line of vision down the ladder. He then started backing towards the fire escape. By the time he reached it, he was down to only half the seat. When that was yanked from him, leaving only the spindly top, he dropped the chair and took off running, practically flinging himself over the side of the building and onto the outer rungs of the ladder. He promptly gasped as the ground precariously swung below him, suddenly remembering he really hated heights!

Hutch had reached the ground and immediately cuffed the suspect, who at this point was offering no resistance. He then looked up and saw his partner clinging to the fire escape.

"Starsky? Starsky, you okay?" he called up.

Starsky had a death grip the iron bars, his eyes squeezed tightly shut while the Rottwieler barked crazily above him.

When he didn't answer, Hutch frantically shouted louder, "Starsky!"

At the sound of Hutch's raised voice, Starsky opened his eyes and looked down to see his partner already in the process of making his way back up the ladder.

"I'm okay!"

Hutch's hands lingered on the rungs until he could see Starsky making his way back down under his own steam, relieved.

When he'd reached the bottom, Hutch slapped him on the back, grinning. "Nice job."

Starsky glared back at him. "Next time, I'll take the thief!"

While Hutch called an ambulance for the injured suspect, Starsky took off his jacket examining it. Grabbing a rag out of the mechanic's back pocket standing next to them, he attempted to clean the grease spot off, his annoyance only increasing at the toothy grin of amusement plastered on the mechanic's face.

As the suspect was loaded into the ambulance a short time later, Hutch looked back up to the roof where the dog was leaning over the edge still barking crazily down at them.

A sudden thought came to him. "Hey, Starsky?"

"What?" Starsky snapped, none too pleased by the dark stain left behind on the sleeve of his favorite jacket.

"How'd he get up there in the first place?"

"Huh?"

"The dog. How'd he get up there?"

Starsky looked up. "I have no idea and frankly I don't give a damn!"

"Well, um…what should we do?"

"About what?"

"About the dog."

"What about him?"

"Well, we just can't leave him up there, can we?"

Starsky just looked at his partner incredulously. "Watch me!" he muttered and stormed determinedly back to the Torino.

Rubbing the back of his neck with his hand and with a bit of a lopsided grin, Hutch took one last look up at the dog still barking and followed his partner.

Starsky gunned the engine and pulled the Torino away while Hutch put a call into Animal Control.

By the time they got their suspect patched up in the ER, booked and then transferred to the county jail's medical ward Starsky was in a volatile mood and starving.

Hutch suggested they stop by the Pits for a cold beer and a bite to eat.

"What about your date with Ashley?" Starsky reminded him.

Hutch looked at his watch. "Got plenty of time. Just swing by my place and drop me off. I'll grab my car and meet you at the Pits. After we eat, maybe we can even play a couple rounds of pool?"

Starsky slid a glance over at his partner, the sour expression still on his face.

"Come on, buddy," Hutch coaxed. "I still owe you that beer, remember?"

Starsky snorted, "All right."

TBC…(hang in there…I'm a slow builder on plots…)