Though I tried to keep the characters in canon to the series, I did expand on the events in the episode Murder Ward in order to work this story in. Overall, it didn't change the progression of the episode, just added to it. Thanks again for all your positive feedback. And I apologize now for any spelling or grammer errors you may find.

Hope you enjoy...(sorry, it's another kinda long chapter)

Chapter Three

In the middle of serving customers, the colorfully dressed proprietor in a burgundy paisley vest and orange silk shirt recognized the familiar curly headed, faded blue jean clad figure in the worn leather jacket as soon as he entered the Pits and smiled over a greeting.

Starsky nodded in acknowledgement and took up residency at an empty barstool, immediately diving into the bowl of peanuts sitting on the counter.

"Hey, my curly headed compadre," Huggy greeted him a few minutes later. "Long time no see. What will it be?"

At that moment a beautiful blonde, dressed in skin tight white pants, suede black boots and a sequined halter top came out of the woman's restroom and walked towards the bar, distracting Starsky's attention.

"Huh?" he replied.

Huggy rolled his eyes. "To drink, not drool over, my friend."

"Oh…uh a beer."

The wiry black man shook his head as he retrieved a tall glass and filled it up with a cold draft.

Starsky watched as the woman, still smiling, walked right towards him and then, to his disappointment, walked right passed and into the arms of a bald headed man in thick glasses sitting just a few stools down, leaving him staring.

The man openly glared at him then slid a protective arm about the woman's waist, steering her away from the counter to a booth in the back.

The bartender placed the beer next to him. "Maybe you want to chase this down with a cold shower?"

Starsky watched as the woman snuggled up against the bald man, laughing at something he said into her ear.

"I don't get it. What's that guy got, I don't?"

Huggy crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. "Well, for one thing, a very fine lookin' foxy blonde lady."

Starsky's mouth lifted at the edges ruefully. "Can't argue with you there."

He picked up the beer and took a sip, savoring the fresh cold iciness as it slid down his parched throat.

"Speaking of blonds. Where's the other half of the whole?" Huggy asked.

Starsky's brow arched. "You make us sound like we're joined at the hip."

The black man snorted. "I see Siamese twins with more space between them, man."

"Hey! I do occasionally have a life separate from my partner, you know," Starsky replied in a miffed voice.

"Hmm." Huggy replied, then added. "So when's he coming?"

He looked at the proprietor who leaned against the bar, grinning. "In a few minutes," Starsky confessed. "He's meeting me here for dinner."

It was more like forty minutes however before said blond finally walked in. Starsky noticed Hutch had already showered and was dressed for his date, having changed into a pair of light tan slacks, a white shirt and white linen jacket. By then however, Starsky had already devoured an entire bowl of peanuts.

"'Bout time you showed up," Huggy replied, having already taken a second bowl away leaving Starsky brooding.

Hutch was hardly given the chance to say hi to Huggy before his partner was grabbing him by the forearm. "What'sa matter with you? I've been waitin' forever! I could have eaten two meals by now!" Starsky complained as he steered his counterpart to their favorite vacant booth. "I'm starving here!"

"Thought I'd save myself some time and get ready first so I wouldn't have to back track later," Hutch explained.

Starsky snorted.

Diana, the waitress, came over a few minutes later and took their orders. Double cheeseburger with the works, fries, and yes she could combo them with onion rings, and a turkey sandwich on whole wheat, lightly toasted, with a salad, dressing on the side, please.

Both also added a draft beer.

She left the pair grinning.

A short time later she returned with their food and Starsky immediately shoved several fries in his mouth. He didn't come up for air until he was half way through his burger and had stolen Hutch's pickle.

"So what time are ya supposed to meet Ashley?"

Hutch checked his watch. "Her flight doesn't land for a little while yet. Supposed to pick her up at her roommate's place at nine."

Starsky washed his food down with a swig of beer. "Roommate, huh? Don't suppose she's hot and single and looking for the dark, handsome, Bogarty type?" he asked.

Hutch chuckled, reaching over to grab a fry off his partner's plate. "I'll be sure to check that out for ya buddy."

The two finished their meal in amicable silence, enjoying some decompression time after such a busy shift.

Once finished with his meal and his stomach at last satisfied, Starsky turned sideways in the booth, drawing one knee up and resting his elbow on it. He let his head drop back against the wall and relaxed while he sipped on the remains of his beer. With a tired sigh he closed his eyes.

Sitting opposite, Hutch took the opportunity to observe his partner. Once again he noticed the dark smudges under his eyes, the tired lines on the man's face.

"So what are you going to do tonight?" Hutch asked nonchalantly.

Starsky shrugged, still with his eyes closed, but he was not so relaxed that he didn't know what his partner was really asking. Cracking an eyelid, he shifted his gaze over to Hutch. "Don't worry, Blondie. I won't interrupt your evening of sordid sexual pleasure with another late night phone call."

"That's not what I meant," Hutch replied, more sharply than he intended, irked by his partner's stubbornness sometimes.

He knew Starsky's nature was to down play the nightmares, but years ago during their Academy days Hutch had seen first hand in an unguarded moment how the flashbacks affected his partner. Though seldom, if ever, did Starsky talk about his experiences in Nam, Hutch knew his friend had survived some pretty heavy stuff.

Over the years of their partnership and ever deepening friendship, the nightmares had receded to rare events but when they did come, Hutch usually knew they were brought on by some stressful trigger, like the time after he'd been poisoned by Bellamy and then almost a year later when he'd been kidnapped and tortured by a bunch of crazy cult members.

And what Hutch was sensing now was they were being triggered by their last undercover assignment at Cabrillo State. He could still remember that controlled look of panic when he'd returned to Starsky's room just before his shift was to end and removed the gag that had been placed around his partner's mouth in his role as the mental inmate Rudy Skyler.

Hutch had hated to see that underlying fear on his friend's face as he lay restrained in a straight jacket, knowing soon the lights would be going off and he would be left in total darkness. He had wanted to pull him out then, sensing the risk in their assignment becoming too great after a fifth murder had occurred. Starsky's cover character, Rudy Skyler, had been blamed. But his stubborn determined partner had refused knowing this would probably be their only opportunity to find the real culprit responsible for the murders.

Reluctantly Hutch had given in and, at Starsky's bidding, was forced to replace the gag before he left so as not to arouse suspicion, knowing he would be leaving his partner to face the night alone, vulnerable and without back up. He had made sure though, the gag was only loosely applied so as not to injure him.

When he'd come on shift the next afternoon he noticed several disturbing things. One his partner was still being restrained in the straight jacket and although the gag had been removed, Starsky's lip was swollen and split open. But what concerned him more, what had shaken him were the set of angry bruises found around his partner's neck.

As soon as they were alone, Hutch had let loose his anger and demanded to know just what the hell had happened. Starsky in a raspy voice had at first tried to hedge the answer, then joke it off, but Hutch had pinned him down with an icy no-nonsense stare and a pointed finger into his partner's face. He was angry, furious.

"No more lies! Y-you tell me what happened! You t-tell me, god damnit!" He knew he was stuttering but he couldn't help it, his own guilt at leaving his partner alone without back-up gnawing at him.

Starsky finally confessed that he'd had a visitor during the night. He hadn't been able see who it had been in the dark, but guessed it had been one of the inmates out for a midnight romp and a few kicks.

Hutch had already learned earlier during shift report that the ward had experienced trouble with several disruptive patients in the middle of the night that had required a complete lockdown until the morning. The incident was a reminder to the undercover cop just how unpredictably volatile the mental institution could become at times.

"That's it! I'm calling Dobey and pulling you out!"

"The hell you are!" Starsky had countered.

"You think I'm going to leave you here after some lunatic tried to kill you last night while you lay strapped down in a god damn bed?"

"Please, Hutch, don't be angry."

A couple of patients had passed near by. Still steaming, but afraid they'd be overheard, Hutch had pushed Starsky, sitting in the wheelchair, still strapped into the straightjacket, a little farther away.

Once out of sight and before Hutch could resume the argument, Starsky had passed on some valuable information one of the other inmates named Freddy had slipped him earlier that morning. Evidence that quickly led both detectives to the same assumption, that Dr. Matwick was somehow involved in the deaths. But the evidence Starsky had obtained was still circumstantial and they would need something with more meat if they were going to make any of the charges stick.

Hutch hadn't like the whole situation one bit knowing Rudy Skyler was already on Matwick's schedule that night.

"I'm not pulling out Hutch, not until we get this guy. Please! These people have no one to protect them from this nut. God knows how many more patients he's going to experiment on if we don't stop him."

"The only 'patient' I care about right now is sitting strapped in a wheelchair scheduled for a private "treatment" with that nut tonight. If you think I'm going to let that happen you're out of your fucking mind!"

Starsky had grinned at the unintended pun. "Then we'll have'ta get the evidence tonight."

The beseeching look from the intense indigo blue eyes, eyes that seemed to have an unfathomable understanding of the helplessness and fear the victims must have felt, no matter the mental illness which had brought them here, and his partner's own fierce stubborn determination eventually made Hutch reluctantly give in. With ONE ultimatum. If Starsky didn't find the evidence they needed before Hutch's shift ended, that was it. He was pulling him out.

Starsky nodded. Their eyes locked. Without words being said Hutch knew what Starsky was asking of him and he also knew the curly haired man understood just how much this worried the blond.

It'll be okay, Hutch. Ya just gotta trust me, the eyes had communicated silently.

I do trust you, buddy. It's the other nuts in here I'm worried about.

I'm not 'cause I know you'll be watchin' my back.

Just be careful, Gordo.

Later, Hutch had snuck back into Starsky's room, freed his partner out of the restraints then went back and tried to keep the staff distracted while his partner snuck into the medical director's office. Neither had known at the time, however, their covers had already been blown.

In the end they had gotten what they needed to put the doctor away, but it had been a close call for both and it had been Starsky who'd saved Hutch's life and nabbed Matwick.

Hutch had woken up a few hours later in the local hospital's ER ward, still coming down off the drug Matwick had slipped him.

The first thing he remembered seeing was Starsky's mug staring down at him, the blue eyes twinkling and a big grin plastered on his face.

"Hey, Dopey, gonna wake up this time?"

Hutch had smiled groggily. "Heya."

"Heya yourself, partner. Had me a little worried there for a while. Thought Matwick had slipped ya one of his experimental Mickeys."

"We get 'em?"

"Yeah, partner, we got him. But I thought I told ya ta stay put."

"You needed me."

"Yeah, like I couldn't have caught a big fat man running around in a giant circle all by myself."

"He had a gun."

"That he couldn't hit the side of a barn with. Besides, he was almost out of bullets."

"I was just doing my job," Hutch replied irritably.

"And what's that?"

"What do you think, Gordo? Watching your back of course."

Starsky smiled. "Well, that's a good thing then. 'Cause I don't trust nobody else to do it but you, ya big Lummox."

Hutch had grinned dopily back.

After he'd gotten all his senses back and he'd been released, Hutch had the feeling something was still bothering his partner though, deep down on the inside. It worried him, especially after he'd found out about the sleepless nights his friend was currently experiencing.

Watching his partner now from across the table, Hutch pressed the issue. "I'm just saying it might help if you talk about it, you know, the nightmares."

Starsky's jaw stubbornly clamped shut. "Ain't nothing to talk about."

"Starsk."

"Hutch, just drop it, will ya!" he snapped. "I'm a big boy, okay? And they're just fucking dreams! They'll pass in time, like the rest. They always do."

A paper cut, a cold, his partner would whine unmercifully about, but the big stuff that would trigger flashbacks to some hellish event in his past and suddenly the man would clam up and try and deal with by himself out of some stupid sense of embarrassment and weakness.

Hutch looked at his partner, exacerbated. "It doesn't mean you have to get through them alone partner," he said, using a tone that was reserved strictly for the curly headed brunet, the one that voiced his genuine concern for his best friend's well being.

It didn't go un-noticed. "I know," Starsky replied contritely, knowing Hutch was sincere. "Sorry. Didn't mean to yell at ya. Guess I'm just tired and it's been a long shift."

"I know. Just call me, if you need to buddy. Okay?"

Starsky's head rolled to the side so he was now looking directly at his partner, giving him a little snort and a grin. "Okay, Mom. I promise."

Hutch nodded, satisfied.

Starsky set his empty glass of beer on the table, reached over to Hutch's glass and finished the last swig of his beer too. "Come on, Blondie. Let's go shoot some pool before this scene gets any soapier."

"All right," Hutch agreed, knowing this was as far as he was going to get to a thanks partner for caring, I love ya too.

For almost an hour the two played a combination of pool and one of Starsky's favorite games, trivia challenges. They bantered back and forth between shots everything from baseball stats to movies, laughing and trying to up the other or at the very least, used it as a distraction as each attempted to get the ball into the pocket.

Hutch took the lead on the pool game, but Starsky creamed him on trivia.

The two friends played until finally it was time for Hutch to leave to pick up his date. Before leaving though, Hutch was happy to see Starsky's dark mood of earlier seemed to have lightened considerably and really hoped his partner would get some needed sleep.

After he departed, a few more patrons entered the bar.

The gorgeous blonde and her bald headed companion had long since vanished and their booth was taken over by two other customers, both men, one wearing a set of coveralls, the other in an army surplus jacket. The two men ordered a pitcher of beer between them and some chasers, but from the look of both they had probably had a few rounds already. Anita, another of Huggy's regular waitresses, took the order and ignored their lurid comments before taking another order from a customer in a baseball cap, tinted shades and heavy sideburns.

A stringy dirty-haired blonde in an oversized knit sweater slid up onto one of the barstools at the end. Huggy filled her order, a whiskey straight up noticing how her fingers shook slightly, then left to fill the waitress' requests for the customers at the tables before tending to another customer, a Latino at the bar wanting a refill on his beer.

Starsky, feeling better but still not in the mood to go back to his empty apartment just yet, wandered back up to the bar to watch the Laker game from a TV mounted above.

"So what you been up to, bro?" Huggy asked a little later when he finally got a free moment between customers. "Haven't seen you and Blondie around much."

Starsky shrugged, told him they had just finished up on a case out at Cabrillo.

"Cabrillo?" The black man frowned. "What a minute. I think I read something about Cabrillo in the paper. Some chick reporter, what was her name? Jane Hutton. Yeah, she wrote some pretty heavy stuff about a crazy doc allegedly whacking his patients off down there. Said, she busted the story wide open with the help of two undercover cops who, I quote, 'shall remain anonymous.' Man, don't tell me that was the two of you?"

Reluctantly Starsky nodded.

Huggy chuckled. "Well I certainly know which one of the two of you must have been the sex maniac."

Starsky frowned, offended. "Why does everyone assume I was the inmate?"

Huggy took one look at the brunet and his wild crazy curls. "You gotta ask me that?"

He pouted sourly. "Hey, I couldn't have been the intern!"

Anita interrupted their conversation. "Hey, Hug, we got a couple of real winners over in the back booth," she thumbed, looking annoyed. "You better cut them off pretty soon before one of them gets a pitcher upside his head the next time he tries to reach over and pinch my ass."

Starsky laughed, because knowing the gutsy waitress, she would do just that.

"Sure, sugar. I'll take care of it. Be back in a sec."

Anita stayed behind the bar wiping the counter down with a rag.

The stringy dirty-blonde had left, so too had the man in the baseball cap and a few others.

"So, Curly, what can I get you, love?"

Starsky, now feeling pretty tired, smiled lazily. "Well, if I wasn't so afraid of getting a pitcher lopped over my head, I'd ask you for your phone number and address."

She grabbed him by his cheeks with one hand. "You're safe with me sweety. I know you're harmless," she teased before releasing him.

He supported the side of his head against his open palm, elbow propped on the bar. "You do, huh? Why, because I'm a cop?"

"Yeah, big tough cop on the outside, big softy on the in."

"Hey, you got me confused with my partner, the Big Blond," he teased back. "I'm a regular Casanova when you get ta know me."

"Yeah, right!"

Anita accepted the flirtations with the grain of salt they were intended, both fully aware of the fact the waitress was head over heels for an ex-pro football player built like a refrigerator. On top of that, she had a strict rule about dating cops.

Starsky let out a big yawn, his eyes drooping.

"I think the only thing you need right now honey is to go home and go to bed."

"Is that an offer?"

"Only in your dreams, sweety."

"Just my luck," Starsky sighed.

Raised voices on the other side of the room caught Starsky's attention.

"No one tells me when we gotta stop drinkin'." The drunk nudged his buddy. "Ain't that right?"

"You got that right," the equally drunken red-head slurred back.

"Hey, man. You two can drink yourselves into oblivion for all I care, but not in my establishment if you're going to mistreat my ladies, you dig," Huggy replied.

"Ladies? That's a laugh!" the man in the army surplus jacket snickered.

"Finish what you've got, gentlemen, but after that, your tab is closed here along with your welcome."

One of the two men suddenly grabbed the wiry proprietor by the colorful paisley vest. "We'll go when were ready, you got that, boy!"

"You tell 'em!" the other one jeered, laughing.

Neither had noticed Starsky sliding off the stool and approaching, his tiredness a few minutes earlier gone.

"You gotta problem here, Hug?"

The two men looked up at the dark haired man now standing a few feet away.

"Just a slight breakdown in gentlemanly communication," Huggy replied, still forced over the table by the grip of the drunk.

"Shove off, pal!"

"First I ain't your pal and second if you two stupid heads still have a single brain functioning between the two of you, I would release my friend now."

"Who you calling stupid?" The man in the army surplus jacket sneered, letting go of Huggy without realizing it as he got to his feet.

The black man immediately stepped back several feet.

The man was a good four inches taller than Starsky and about fifteen pounds heavier.

"Isn't it obvious? The ugly one," Starsky replied.

The other staggered to his feet as well, nearly the same height as companion but a lot skinnier. "Is he talking about you or me?"

"Shut up!"

Huggy flanked the brunet's side watching the solidly pack man assessing the situation beneath half closed eye lids. It was a well known fact that people often underestimated the detective's casual stance.

The two drunks faced the shorter man, clearly assuming they could easily take him on.

"No one talks to us like that! We're having a good time here, and we ain't plannin' on leavin' until were good 'n ready!"

Starsky's features darkened. "Well that's where our difference of opinion comes in. Because you see, my very good friend here has already asked you to leave very nicely."

"And who's gonna make us?" the army surplus jacket drunk challenged, stepping forward into Starsky's face.

What happened next took both drunks completely by surprise as the curly haired man grabbed the man by the wrist, spun him around and pushed him into his companion.

Both fell to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs.

Huggy was at his side in an instant, holding a bat that Anita had grabbed from behind the bar and had slipped him a few seconds earlier. As the drunk in the army jacket stumbled back to his feet, Huggy shoved the bat against the second one's jugular vein, pressing down just enough to get his point across. "My friend, I suggest you stay down!"

The red haired drunk raised his hands in compliance.

His counterpart wasn't quite as smart, and once to his feet, took a swing at Starsky who easily sideswiped the move, returning a kidney punch to the larger man, another to his gut, then with a swipe of a foot, knocked the man off balance.

With a grunt, the drunk went down hard.

Having dealt with more than enough crap for the day, Starsky picked the man up by the scruff of his shirt and belt and marched him out the back door with Huggy accompanying the second, the bat prodding him in his back along the way.

They pushed the two outside into the alley.

"Go home fellas and sleep it off," Starsky suggested.

The two drunks staggered to their feet.

"You can't do this to us!" the drunk in the army jacket shouted, taking a step forward.

"I just did." He then pulled his badge out of his back pocket and flashed it at the two of them. "Now if I have to waste my time hauling your two drunken carcasses in, believe me, you two turkeys are going to regret it!"

"You're a cop?" the lankier drunk in coveralls replied.

"You got that right. One very tired and very cranky cop. So go home!"

"Lousy cop! You think I'm afraid of that badge, of you!" The man in the army jacket belligerently argued back, taking another step forward.

Starsky's face hardened. Damn, this guy really was stupid!

The other drunk seeing the angry, no-nonsense expression on the cop's face restrained his loud mouthed companion, pushing him back. "Come, on. We don't need the trouble."

With a grumble, the drunk allowed himself to be led away.

Once the pair staggered down the alley out of sight, Huggy straightened his vest. "Hey, thanks Curly."

"Anytime, Hug."

They walked back to the bar. "You know, you can be pretty scary sometimes, my brother," Huggy commented.

Starsky stayed just a little bit longer until his mind was telling him it had finally caught up to his tired body and it was time to head home. He went to pay his tab, but Huggy refused. "On the house."

Too tired to argue, Starsky accepted the thanks.

"Take it easy, Curly. See ya around on the flip side."

Outside Starsky headed for the Torino parked a few blocks down enjoying the much cooler air. The marine layer had moved in a few hours earlier, zapping away the heat of the day. He was tired and ready to just crawl into bed hoping he'd be able to sleep through the night without another nightmare.

He thought about his partner and couldn't help but grin. Well at least one of us, partner, will be sleeping like a satisfied contented little baby tonight.

Starsky dug out his car keys as he passed an alley between blocks. Suddenly without warning he was grabbed from behind and pulled into the dark interior. He was swung around and his body was smashed, face first, into a brick wall, splitting his lip. Immediately a fist impacted into his left side expelling a grunt out of him. Hands then grabbed him again but the street savvy cop's instincts kicked in and as he was whipped around, Starsky brought his left arm forward in a thrusting jab. He heard an "oomph" as it connected with flesh. His assailant doubled over and Starsky immediately followed with a right that also made contact.

He took a step back but got no further before something hard and solid hit his ribs from a second attacker in the shadows. He staggered backwards, his body folding, turning inward before pain suddenly exploded in the back of his head, just behind his left ear and he fell to the ground.

TBC...

(Poor Starsky. Don't we just love to mess with him!)