Implosion

by pegbronco

Episode related. S vs. H. Surviving the aftermath of Kira. My take on how they both may have reacted to the fallout of Kira. Starsky takes a drive. Hutch takes a dive.

I don't own the guys...

just trying to get them

through a rough time.

(Thank you Lunita for your help once again.)

Episode related. 'Starsky vs. Hutch'

This takes place between the explosion

at the ballroom and the tag.

Implosion

by Pegbronco

"Starsky!" the captain bellowed as he caught sight of his detective passing his opened office door. Casually late wasn't even close to what the clock on the wall told him.

Starsky had just reached for the coffee pot and now dejectedly placed it back down. He turned and looked over at his partner's side of their shared desk. There was a pile of a week's unattended paperwork stacking up and no sign of Hutch having been there. He continued his turn into the captain's office.

It had been a long couple of weeks and he wasn't in the mood for any games of 'fifty questions' from his boss. Between the investigations into the case of the serial killer Joey Webster, the veteran who was killing blonde women at the 'Golden Lady Ballroom', his fight with his partner over a woman during that investigation, and then almost getting blown up at the ballroom, he was in a sour mood. He had also been on the road for the last eight hours and looked and felt like hell. He was tired, hadn't slept well in over a week and to have an eight hour shift in front of him made his mood edgy. On top of that he still hadn't seen Hutch. They had to hash things out and get their life back on track. He still felt some lingering pain and anger that needed to be addressed.

"Yeah Captain?" he asked as he strolled up to the large desk. The captain flopped the file he was looking at down onto the desk.

"You want to tell me where the hell that partner of yours is?" asked with a growl. He looked his officer over and just shook his head. His detective looked as if he had just come off a week-long stake-out in his car.

The dark haired detective just shoved his hands in his pant pockets then shrugged. "Don't know. Ain't seen him."

"I thought that I told you two men to stop acting like a couple school kids and fix your problem?" He snapped at his detective because the answer that he received was unacceptable.

The 'problem' arose because of their last assignment. The assignment that got them involved with the same woman, another officer by the name of Kira, whom he had assigned to work the case with his two detectives. Dobey knew that his two men had competed for the same woman in the past, but this time it got intense. And now all he knew was, after all was said and done, his best team was at each other's throat, or at this particular time not communicating with each other at all.

"Captain, he's a big boy and I'm not his keeper. I've been out of town for a few days and I didn't think I needed to get his permission or tell him where I was either," he snapped back at his superior officer, his voice edgy and sharp. He was definitely too tired to have popped off at his boss. But he also had questions that needed to be answered. And only his partner could give them.

"No you're not his keeper, you're his partner! And what do you mean you haven't seen him and you've been out of town? I figured he was with you. His car is still parked down in the garage since the two of you finished on Saturday night."

"Captain, we finished the reports, I filed them, and I left. I figured that he headed home himself." Starsky's mind instantly started to run. "Didn't anyone try to reach him at his apartment?"

"Starsky, I'm a captain in a police department, not a babysitter, though the way you two have been acting lately, I began to wonder. Now you just get out there and find him, make nice and get your butts back to work, and you had better come back looking presentable," the captain growled out his frustration with a tight glare at his officer.

"Yes Sir," was all he said as he turned and stepped back into the squad room closing the door behind him. If his car has been here since Saturday and this is Thursday morning, that meant no-one has seen him for five days. Damn. Now what the hell have you gotten yourself into?

As Starsky walked out of the office and headed down to the garage, he turned around a corner and ran into Minnie.

"Minnie..." said in a soft voice with his mind now on his delinquent partner.

"Well hello Starsky. Haven't seen you around for a few days, you alright?" She shook her head slightly as she looked him over from head to toe. Tsk tsk...softly to herself.

"Yeah. Have you seen Hutch?"

"Not since late Saturday night as I was coming in for my shift. Saw him standing outside in the parking garage starring at that old heap of junk of his. He was looking really bad. Honey, you're looking kind of run-down yourself. Are you alright? Hey, did you two have a fight? You know that I'm here if either of you needs someone to listen." She knew it had to do with Kira. She had guessed that Starsky had a hot-spot for her. He had been avoiding the question about just how serious he was with the blonde, female detective. And now both of her favorite detectives were showing signs that something was very wrong between them. And that may have to do with the female part of that troublesome trio.

"Thanks Minnie. Right now I just need to find him." He squeezed her arm lightly and proceeded down the stairwell to the garage.

Starsky walked over to the battered LTD his partner was so fond of. He reached into his pocket and found his set of keys. There, hanging next to the Torino keys was a set to the tired Ford. He looked down at the metal pieces in his hand and thought about his partner.

For nine years he had been with him. They had been at each other's side, through the thick times, the good times, and now the really ugly, but always with each other. They were living their life on and off the street as best as they could next to the other. It's a friendship that was forged from unseen forces that neither one of them could explain nor did they try. The deep embedded love and trust and unlimited devotion they carried in their heart for the other was the main foundation of their relationship. Soul-mates. But this was definitely a black moment in their life together.

Over the past few days on the road, he had struggled with the pain that Hutch had inflicted onto his heart. How could he perfuse his love for a woman to him, then to have him run over to her place and slam that trust they shared down the drain? To see him walk out the bedroom door that he himself had been in not just hours earlier? It was as if Hutch had reached in his chest, grabbed his heart and twisted it. And it wasn't just because he had sex with Kira, but more from the betrayal of everything that they shared on an invisible level. His heart had thumped in uneven beats in his chest as his wounded heart was ravaged with invisible pain.

Saturday evening as they were finishing the report, Captain Dobey, suspecting that there was something very personal and volatile happening between his best team, had stepped into the office and told them to take a few days off and get things worked out.

So after a quick wash-up in the precinct shower to clean the dust and debris from the explosion off of him and after the case was filed, Starsky felt he had to catch some air, so he had jumped into the Torino and left. He abruptly left his partner behind with no notice and went to try and find peace for his tormented heart. He wasn't going against what the captain had ordered. He just had to work out his side of the equation before he confronted his other half. So he turned the car in the opposite direction of his partner and left. He hadn't even bothered to go by his apartment. He always carried a change of clothes in the trunk and he wouldn't be gone that long. And as he got closer to the edge of town, if he didn't have it with him, to hell with it, he didn't need it. Space was all he needed. He was pissed and he felt that he needed to clear his head and try to figure out what had happened to bring them to this point. After he had pounded the steering wheel a few good times out of frustration, he gripped it tighter and pointed the car east. Just have to try to sort it out buddy.

After driving around the empty deserts of the west, he found there was an overbearing loneliness in his heart. This loneliness caused a pain deep down in his chest and he felt sick. There was the need for space and then there was this, a world of emptiness. As he blindly drove, he glanced, more times then he could count, at the empty passenger seat next to him. The seat that was usually occupied by one big, blond Midwesterner, his street savvy and hard-nosed partner. A partner of pure cold steel but at the same time the biggest down-to-earth person he knew. The man that would do anything for him even gives his own life for his and he would the same for him. They would risk it all for each other. They were best of friends. Even with all this pain, he felt lost without his friend.

For this past month he had been dating Kira, he noticed that Hutch had grown distant. Their normal chatter replace with a silence that just didn't feel right. They had their times that talk between them was short, but the air around them was always light. But the silence that had crept in between them lately was heavy and strange. He was starting to feel an uneasy loneliness touch the outer edges of their relationship.

It wasn't that they were growing apart, growing away from each other. That inner connection was just as strong as the day it was forged. And if anything it was growing stronger. But it was the surface life that was slowly receding. It was life of the world around them slowly moving on without them, slowly being pulled into other directions. And that direction was away from them and leaving the space empty of viable life. But as the world moved on with its life they were left with each other, left with a partnership, a friendship and a bond that welded them together. But would that life they shared only with each other survive that voiding space that grew around them?

He had been laying awake in run-down hotels for the past five nights trying to figure out how to ease that drowning feeling of loneliness that had enveloped him. He had numerous times reached for the phone, only to have his hand come up short. He knew that he could call Hutch at anytime of day or night, whatever the circumstances, but at those precise moments that his heart wanted to reach out to him, his hurt pride drew his hand back. His frustration mixed with anger and the need to forgive.

He would be able to forgive his partner. Only because it was one of many things he had learned over the years from his friend. To love someone meant to learn tolerance for that person. Because there was nothing more important then to see past the inevitable ugliness that may occur and look at the soul, to look into the soul of the other and to know that the pain wasn't caused by the real person. Even as hard and hurtful as Hutch's actions have been, he knew that that wasn't the true Hutch. Yes, the pain had burned through to his heart, but he would be able to see the real Hutch and can forgive him.

With such a huge hole in his heart and with his half of their shared soul floating in panic, the worst thing he could do was live half a life. Hutch's half of their soul was his anchor and right now it was as if it was severed and dangling precariously on the edge of going down into a depth that was dark and empty.

He felt an overpowering need to turn around and reunite the two halves. And with all the thinking he done and all the questions he had been asking himself on how he was to heal that pain, he kept coming up with the same answer. Hutch. He had then turned the car around and headed back to the west coast. Damn it Hutch, don't you know you will always belong in my heart? No matter what you do Hutch, no matter how bad, you will stay there forever. He drove west to find his friend and tell him.

Throughout the drive back from the vast emptiness that surrounded himself, his head switched gears and went to the woman he thought he loved. To the woman that would not only sleep with one man, but also betray that man and sleep with his best friend. To know how close they were and not to care about the consequences her actions would have. Breaking that bond or not, she didn't care. What kind of sick game has she been playing? Maybe Hutch did him a favor by having sex with her. Opening his eyes to what she was doing behind his back. If she screwed around with Hutch, what should make him think that she wouldn't go out and have sex with other men? And Hutch may have just been an easy and convenient target. Maybe Hutch was just a pawn in her little game of life. Damn fucking bitch.

Hutch was easily taken by a pretty face, especially one that could flirt with the best of them. And she was damn good at it. Hutch would get caught up thinking with the wrong part of his body and this time his partner definitely was taken by her game and the wrong part of his brain overrode his logical thinking one. She manipulated the situation to fulfill her own desires and Hutch got tangled up in her web of deception. Stupid was all it was. Stupid blond Neanderthal, thinking with your dick again.

Now with the trust they so treasured and had built their life around damaged, could it ever be repaired? Yes, with no doubt, a solid yes. Because he still trusted him with his life. And the love was still there, though deep down and buried under all the hurt and pain right at this moment, but still undeniable there. And that was what counted. An unconditional love that, no matter what happened in their life, would still survive.

It was a love that had always came so easily for him. Loving Hutch was as natural as breathing for him. And he fiercely loved him. He could never explain why, because he didn't know. From the first time they had been teamed up at the academy and the early awkwardness of figuring each other out, Hutch had grown under his skin and he would never be able or willing to brush him away. Not ever, Hutch.

So who did he trust? Who did he love? Who mattered most in his life? The answers came with ease, but with pain latched onto them. He knew that with some time given, that pain would ease its grip and fall off. He wasn't about to throw away the most treasured relationship he ever had and never thought he would ever experience, over something as asinine as a two-timing woman.

There will always be misunderstandings and pain in a relationship, but if you love someone as deep and as true as they did each other, you forgive and leave the pain behind, letting it ease to the background and love and trust to resurface and continue to grow. And it would grow stronger because of it. He knew love could be messy at times, but he also knew together they would be able to survive this incident. Together Hutch!

S/H+++S/H+++S/H+++S/H

Now as he slid the key into the battered car's door, his mind started to wonder why was Hutch's car here and where was Hutch? He dropped onto the worn seat under the steering wheel and put the key into the ignition. With a turn of the key the car sputtered, coughed and then went silent. Another turn resulted in a click of a now dead battery. Damn, that's the reason was why there is a car with no Hutch. The mechanically deprived blond had left it. Now the most important question was where is the owner?

Starsky slid down into the leather seat of the Torino and got the roar started. He slowly turned the car around, past the silent LTD, shaking his head as he did and headed out to the street. He took a right turn that would lead him to Ocean Boulevard and Hutch's apartment.

He slowly pulled the car to a stop in front of Venice Place, turned the car off and momentarily just sat there. With the hole in his heart, what mattered more now was putting his life back together again. To close that hole they needed to put the pieces that had fallen out, back into their place. Into the place that was him, a place that was shared with no-one else but with his partner.

He slowly exited the car and made his way up the staircase. He knocked on the door, waited but received no reply in return. He tried the knob but it was locked. He reached onto the top lintel for the key. It wasn't there. Trying to keep me out Hutch? He sighed heavily and dug in his jean's pocket for his own key. With a shared life, having access to the other's apartment came without a second thought between them.

He opened the door and stood frozen to the spot momentarily. His hand was still latched on the door knob when the smell of alcohol and sour vomit that filled the air escaped out of the apartment and hit him. The place looked to have been turned upside down. There were blankets, pillows, towels and clothes lying everywhere. The cushions from the couch were on the floor. To his left there were sheets of music littering the floor around the piano. The piano bench knocked over, now leaning against the fireplace, with the lid to the storage compartment flopped open and more sheets of music spilling out. The lamp that sat on the table behind the couch was now broken on the floor in front of him. He glanced to his right into the bedroom. The bed was unmade and the top mattress was now teetering halfway off the box-springs.

As he walked he came across one of Hutch's treasured plants that has been knocked off the shelf and now lay sadly on the floor with its pot having fallen off. He squatted down, picked the plant up and scooped up as much of the soil as he could and placed it back into the pot. Hutch cared too much and took pride in his ability to keep his green things alive to have one looking disregarded and left to wither on the floor.

"I'm not sure if you're Fern, Jasmine or Daisy, but I'm sure he didn't mean to leave you here like this." He placed it onto the counter after giving it a small amount of water.

Unlike himself, for Hutch, an untidy apartment was the norm. But from looking around, this wasn't the norm, not even close to being normal. It wasn't as bad as when the psychotic nurse Diana Harmon had ransacked it a couple of years ago in a fit of rage, but it came close. Someone in some stage of rage had been through the place. And his guess was a big Nordic blond with Viking ancestry has been the culprit.

He walked over to the toppled kitchen chair and sat it upright, only now it had a cracked leg and wobbled. He took in a heavy sigh as he continued to walk through the small apartment. He glanced out to the sun porch, the bed out there showed no signs of anyone having slept in it lately.

As he walked he unconsciously picked up empty beer bottle after bottle. There were a couple of empty whiskey bottles and an empty bottle of Bourbon in the kitchen sink next to the vodka bottle that lay bottom up. Apparently the choice of liquor was of no concern. He did take notice that there were no dishes lying around only empty liquor bottles. Shit, he hadn't eaten.

He switched off the light in the bedroom and in the bathroom he turned the faucet at the sink off where a slow stream was running from it. The reek of vomit that filled the small room, to the soiled towels and clothes that littered the floor, it all was evidence that someone has been very sick.

As he wandered through the rooms he also kept an eye out for Hutch's gun. It was nowhere to be found. This meant he had the small canon with him.

With no sign of the big blond and apparently very drunk Hutchinson, Starsky decided to look in a different place. He locked the apartment and slowly descended the stairs. But before he headed through town he did a quick stop at the beach where he knew his partner liked to go for a walk. No sign of him, the beach was empty at that time.

Driving through the town towards 'The Pits', Starsky was thinking that his partner had really tied one on. Why? But deep down inside he knows why. He had felt it the last couple of days of the investigation. Hutch was either eerily silent or ripping off heads. And as well as he knew his partner, neither was a good thing. And that was also an unmistakable sign Hutch had thrown himself down into that pit of self-loathing he was accustomed to doing whenever he felt that he had wronged the world. Or in this case his partner.

Hutch's silence towards him the following days after the confrontation at Kira's only told him too well that Hutch was imploding. Hutch could beat himself up better then anyone he knew. And Hutch was notorious to throw himself down into that pit of self-loathing. And it took everything Starsky had to drag his partner out, sometimes screaming, yelling and clawing all the way, but eventually he got him out of that pit. And Hutch would soon come to realize that life wasn't as bad as he thought, and they would get back to their normalcy. But this time, was that pit too deep? Would Hutch be able to see that Starsky would be able to forgive him for the pain that had been inflicted onto him and their relationship? Would Hutch be able to forgive himself for falling into her deceitful web? From the wreckage at his apartment, Hutch was too busy beating himself up, to come even close to forgiving himself.

"Hey, well if it ain't the other half of the desperate duo. Man, where have you been? And you're looking about as bad as your other half," Huggy stated as he strolled up to the brunet as Starsky walked through the door. The bar was nearly empty at that time. Starsky looked around and saw only one other person seated in the back booth but not the blond he was looking for.

"Huggy. Was just trying to find..."

"Trying to locate that blond bombshell of yours?" Huggy asked cutting him off. "Man, I don't know what got into the two of you lately, but from Blondie's ramblings I guess a broad was involved and she really screwed things up between the two of you. Goes by the name of Cathy, or Katie..."

"Kira." Starsky corrected sourly, as he walked to the far end of the bar.

"Right, that would be the name he kept tossing around under his breath and not in a pretty way either. If you get my drift. Now let me tell you about your other half." Huggy said as he slid a beer towards the dark haired detective. The time of day didn't matter to the Bear, beer seemed to be the choice of drink at anytime of distress for his two friends.

"So Hutch is here?" His voiced slightly rose in hope Hutch was camped out upstairs in the room above the bar.

"Was, is the appropriate word. Let me tell you...he comes strolling in here Monday night already drunk and looking like he ain't showered, shaved, or even changed clothes in a couple of days. Your 'Glamor boy' he was not. Then he goes and parks his blond self in your booth and ordered me to drown him in liquor. Now I don't mind giving a paying customer a few drinks, but your partner just sat and drank like it was going to dry up. Kept rambling on about that Kira chick, but mostly that he couldn't find you. He seemed more upset about you then her."

"Oh? So what was he saying about me?"

"Just kept mumbling under his breath that he needed you, needed to tell you something important and that you just left him without telling him where you were. He got upset you may be dead somewhere and he wasn't there to save you. I had to tell him a couple times that if you had been hurt, your Captain Dobey would have found him. He kind'f accepted that and continued to pour the liquor down his throat."

"Hug, do you know where he might be?"

"Man, I don't know. Just know that there was a blonde pay-by-the-hour that tried to pick him up and he just went 'all cop' on her and threatened to haul her in. Then got belligerent, told her that all women are 'fucking blonde bitches' and he didn't want nothing to ever do with them. Then he just sat there with a dumb look on his face and she left. Few minutes later some pimp comes strolling in looking for him with her in tow. Hutch got up, towered over the man and gave him a deadly look and the man just backed up tripping over himself and left, no words were exchanged. Man, I ain't seen that look on Hutch's face before, even I was scared. But after almost two days of his ramblings under his breath and the occasional outburst, I finally called him a cab, paid the cabby and gave him Hutch's address. Try his pad. And you owe me ten bucks for the cab," he added.

"I just came from his place. He ain't there. Looks like he found the bottom of his liquor cabinet there as well."

"Well my man, I don't know where else to have you look. Man let me ask you something..." the lanky proprietor casually leaned over the bar.

"What?" Starsky stared down into the frothy liquid in front of him. His fingers ran across the cool glass. His mind preoccupied with the absences of his friend.

"Was she really worth it? I mean look at the two of you. Neither one of you knows where the other is. One feels as if his world fell out from underneath him and the other looks just as bad." Huggy stood up straight and looked over at his friend.

"No," simply stated not even looking up. Starsky picked up the mug of beer and took a long swig. No she wasn't worth the pain they both obviously were in. He needed to find Hutch and get their life back. He placed the beer back down on the bar.

"Thanks Hug." Starsky let out a deep sigh, turned and went back out to the car.

Damn it Hutch where the hell are you?

If Hutch was at a hospital, Dobey would have been notified. So that meant he was somewhere muttering in self-pity.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, that connection that he shared with his partner ever so lightly whispered to him. It was a whisper that most would unconsciously just brush aside. But for them, the connection was strung tight between their hearts. Without thinking he turned the nose of the red car around towards his own apartment. His subconscious knew it was far-fetched but still a chance that Hutch would be there.

As he agitatedly gripped the steering wheel, the midday sun was beaming hot rays down onto the car. It was an unseasonable warm May day. A light sweat plastered dark curls to his forehead as he silently drove to his apartment. Damn it Hutchinson, I still care about your big ass. But you stepped far over that boundary. But then again I crossed it myself when I went after you like I did. I shouldn't have hit you. But damn it you pissed me off. The thoughts of that incident when he plowed into his best friend at Kira's, replayed in his head. He puffed out a heavy breath. Just be safe wherever you are.

And here he was again, at that part of their relationship of always looking after the other. Always worrying the other was safe and OK. That part of the relationship that was ingrained and required no thinking. It just came natural for them since the first day that they had met so many years ago. Love and devotion. It was a part of them that took their lives down a path that was for them only. It was a single path that carried both of them forward. But there were times, like in all relationships, when one of them would test the strength and veer close to the edges of that path and see if the other would follow. And Hutch had definitely veered from the middle of that road and was walking on that edge. But Starsky knew he was strong enough to follow and to pull Hutch back to the middle of that path. Back to the path that was theirs alone.

He got to the landing of his own front door, as he went to place his key in the lock, the door opened slightly. His cop instincts instantly came alive. He pulled the Beretta and slowly pushed the door open. A much softer but unmistakable smell that matched in Hutch's place wafted through the door and met him as he stood in the doorway. The lights were off and the apartment was drenched in deep dark shadows and a deep almost black bronze. There was a small amount of light trying to filter through the closed slits of the blinds above the kitchen sink, but it did little to help in illuminating the room.

As he walked across the threshold and into the room, his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The blanket that usually lay across the back of the couch was thrown to the floor. The back couch pillows had also joined the blanket on the floor. The coffee table had been moved from its original place and was now sitting at an odd angle against the couch and armchair. There were empty beer cans tossed onto the coffee and end tables. He glanced into his kitchen and found a half drank bottle of Brandy and a glass lying on its side on the counter. Sitting next to those were Hutch's magnum, badge and keys. He took in a deep breath of relief. He turned towards his bedroom.

In the dark room he was able to make out a large shape on top of his bed. He slowly moved closer, gun still drawn. With squinted eyes he was able to recognize the unmistakable, though a deeper bronze-blond hair that belonged to his partner. He holstered the gun and reached for the light-switch and flipped it.

Hutch lay face down with his silken-fine hair damp, dingy and plastered to his face. Its white-wheat color dulled to a darker gold. The sun-bleached blond color of summer was still a couple of months away. He was half dressed with an unbuttoned shirt, boxer shorts and with only his right leg in his navy blue jogging pants, the other leg of the pants was twisted and hung over the side of the bed and he had only one sock on. At this point he wasn't sure if Hutch was getting dressed or undressed. But he quit in the middle of whichever it was he was doing.

Hutch was a beautiful man, almost hypnotizing. It was if a gilded angel was cast down and given to him as a partner, friend, soul-mate. Even he had been mesmerized at times by Hutch's appearance. Hutch has always taken pride in his attire. Even on the job and long stake-outs, Hutch could always pull off that 'All American poster boy' image. Having been raised in the world of high society with a world renowned surgeon as a father and his mom the proper upper-class socialite, it was bred into Hutch and his appearance came with ease. But right now Hutch looked like he just crawled out from the bottom of a liquor bottle somewhere in a back alley.

From where Starsky stood he could see that Hutch was in trouble. He didn't look right, far too pale. His color faded to a bone-white. He walked over to the side of the bed. As he laid his hand on Hutch's back there was barely a fall and rise with each taken breath, the time between those too long. "Hutch?" With no answer, his panic level rose.

"Hutch?" Firmer this time but again no reply.

As he shifted his weight, his foot nudged something under the edge of the bed. Starsky bent down and found the picture of the two of them. It was one that had been taken at one of the policeman picnics. They had big smiles on their faces as Hutch had picked up Starsky and was holding him in his arms. Starsky thought about the looks and whispers they got for that one. But they didn't care. It was just another eyebrow-raising that occurred from those that just didn't understand the deep embedded connection that only they shared. He placed the picture on the nightstand next to the bed.

Starsky reached out and gingerly tried to rouse his partner again. After a few tense moments there was a low moan as Hutch slowly came back to consciousness. He didn't bother to roll over but weakly tried to lift his head. He then allowed it to drop heavily back down. He looked up with a half-open eyelid, golden lashes slightly fluttering.

"Goway. Y..you're... n..not hreal." He lifted a heavy hand and sluggishly swiped through the air. Then the dead-heavy arm dropped back over the edge of the bed. Starsky caught a glimpse of the knuckles of his right hand. They were swollen, bruised and had cuts with dried blood incrusted across them, a trail of dried blood between each finger. There was a wall somewhere that was going to need repairs after his partner had put his fist through it, and from the looks of it, more than once.

"Hutch, what the hell is going on?" His voice rose with unexpected anger. He wasn't sure why. Was it from the lingering resentment over Kira, the long drive back from the desert, or the fact that his partner had decided to drown himself into the world of oblivion? He wasn't sure of anything right at this moment.

"I said goway. Y..you're a frigerment of my imagernation," he slurred. He tried to rise up on his left elbow as he tried to roll over but was stopped by gravity and a swirling room. He dropped back down on the bed.

"Hutch..."

Hutch slowly lifted his right eyelid again and stared at what he thought was a ghost. "You're..you're not hreal… you wenta..way and nefer comin' back."

"Hutch what the hell is going on with you? I'm real. I'm standing right here."

"Allof y..you just leaf me alone." He slapped the air again.

Starsky grabbed him by his shoulder and forcefully rolled him over onto his back. The movement just about threw Hutch back into unconsciousness. There was a loud, deep groan of pain that erupted up from his throat. His eyes rolled around trying to keep up with the swirling of the room. He clamped them shut, trying to avoid the rolling vertigo in his head.

As Hutch now lay on his back, the unbutton shirt fell to the side and Starsky got a look of a huge red impact area, with angry looking black and purple bruises that blotched most of the left side of his chest. There was also a nasty cut just below his hairline above his left eye that had dried blood crusted around it. The cut on his forehead very recent, evidence because Hutch hadn't bothered washing the blood that had streamed down his left cheek to his chin. Did the fall happen here or at his apartment? And if it happened at his apartment how did he manage to get across town to here? Starsky took in a panicked breath. To see his friend hurt ripped a part of himself away. The love and concern he felt for him that was still there, deep down and concrete, shot to the surface.

Hutch's head swayed back and forth on the pillow as the room carouseled around him. "Sick..." he said as he quickly and awkwardly rolled back over again to his stomach. His face was turning to an even more anemic paleness, as his breath catching.

"Oh no you don't! You're not getting sick on my bed!" Starsky reached under his arms and tried to lift the big blond but Hutch rolled sluggishly to the side and almost off the bed. Starsky braced himself against the side of the bed to stop gravity from pulling him to the floor.

Hutch slowly let his right leg fall heavily over the edge of the bed and the pants fell to the floor around his ankle. He then slowly pushed himself up as best as he could. Starsky straddled his leg and again grabbed him under his arms and lifted. As he stood, Hutch swayed recklessly off balance.

"Damn it, come on Hutch, you have to put more effort into it," he said as he more or less dragged him into the bathroom and to the toilet. At the same time trying not to trip over the pants that Hutch dragged behind him with his right foot.

Hutch dropped heavily to his knees, almost falling over and dragging Starsky to the floor with him. At the last possible moment Hutch grabbed for the bowl and heaved. A loud retching noise escaped as his body got rid of what was left in his stomach. There was nothing but liquid bile with a ting of red. Blood. Starsky blanched at the sight. Hutch was definitely in trouble. His anger now thrown to the backseat as panic rolled over him. Damn it Hutch what the hell have you done to yourself? Starsky leaned over him from behind, wrapped one arm around Hutch's midriff and the other soothing over his hunched back as another round of heaves constricted every muscle in Hutch's back and stomach.

"Easy...it'll pass buddy." At this time his anger towards this man that had wronged him just a couple weeks ago, had vanished. The 'why' would have to be delayed and they will address it at another time. Right now, Hutch was in need and his instinctive need to help his partner and friend had over ridden his own pain and anger. Hutch was more important.

As the heaving subsided, Hutch sat back on his haunches. He swayed slightly to the side as he tried to hold himself upright. Starsky stood bent over behind him supporting him. But the swirling of the room grabbed Hutch and was winning the war.

Starsky quickly stepped back to retrieve a washcloth from the sink to clean up his partner. He turned back as Hutch limply finished falling over onto the floor and onto his back, his eyes now watery and bloodshot. The Hutch he knew missing in those lake blue eyes he had come to know over the years. His skin was gray and pasty with a soft blue-tinged color to it. His breathing rasped from the effort of throwing-up. Starsky placed his hand on his forehead. His skin felt cold, damp and covered with a sheen of perspiration.

"Damn it Hutch...come on buddy you're really starting to scare me here." His anxiety escalated to another level.

"G..goway. Y..you're f..fucked up, c..'cause I fuck her, so that f..fucked us, s..s..so now my l..life is fucked. I s..crewed us, c..'cause I screwwed hherr. Now y..ou went and left m..eee. You jus' left me and I..I couldn't fi..nd y..you. I..I needed you. I couldn't f..ind you. Lost...lost and gone... hate me...hate meee," his voice deep, hoarse and slowly floating off as he muttered. His eyes blinked heavily and unfocused.

Starsky squatted next to him and wiped the cloth across his face and mouth. "I don't hate you Hutch." He cupped his left hand to his face trying to hold Hutch still, but Hutch wouldn't. His head lolled from side to side. His eyes were trying to focus the fast swirling room.

Agitated Hutch knocked away Starsky's hand. He slowly rolled to the side and tried to lift himself off the floor. "Hutch just lay still." Starsky tried to carefully hold him down but Hutch found what little strength and fight he had left in him and again tried to push himself off the floor. That just sent a towering wave of nausea and excruciating pain through him and his muscles buckled and he landed face first on the floor. The floor reached up, grabbed and smothered him. His mind shut down and black emptiness took over.

Starsky had seen his friend drunk many times before but this was beyond anything they had experienced. Panicked, Starsky stepped to the bathroom door and reached around to the small bedside table that was next to the bed and grabbed the phone. His eyes never leaving his partner's body that lay motionless on his bathroom floor. He looked down at the phone just long enough to dial the number for help.

S/H+++S/H+++S/H+++S/H

The past few days for Hutch had come and gone in a blurry haze. He hadn't slept. He hadn't eaten. His gut burned like Hell. The guilt he harbored burned deep down to the core. And he felt he deserved every spear of fire within himself. He had brought it all on himself. He was in complete agony. And he was either biting heads off or giving his partner the silent treatment. And why? Starsky wasn't the one who had broken that trust. He himself had stepped over that line and acted selfishly. He was the one who should be out there fixing what he had broken, trying to mend that giant rift that he had caused.

Saturday night after the grenade had exploded, when they were sitting on the debris littered floor at the ballroom, they had unconsciously locked eyes. It was just a momentary glance to see that the other was OK. To see that other set of concerned blue eyes looking at him was all he needed to know that he had turned their world upside down and he needed to right it.

Saturday night after they were done with the report, he had all the intentions of pulling Starsky aside and begging for forgiveness. But when he stepped out to the parking garage, he noticed that the Torino was already gone. So he had jumped into his car but as he turned the key the car just sputtered and coughed. He tried once more and fate had dealt him the wrong hand, the car wasn't going anywhere. He got out, stood looking at it and thought of getting on the radio and asking Starsky to come and get him, but on second thought he decided that he would just grab a cab.

When the cab stopped at his partner's apartment he saw that the Torino wasn't there. Starsky must have decided to grab a drink somewhere. He told the cab driver to take him home. He would catch up with him the next day. He would try to sleep that night, although he already knew what the result was going to be. He also had to get his thoughts in order before he saw his partner.

He had the driver drop him off a couple blocks from his apartment and decided to grab a bottle of something stronger than the beer he had in the fridge. Maybe something stronger would ease some of this incessant, gnawing pain burning inside.

As Saturday night turned into Sunday evening, there was still no sign of his partner. He had tried the phone, every hour all day long and still Starsky didn't pick up. I wouldn't want to talk to me either. He made another trip down the block to the liquor store and slowly made his way back home. He was feeling lost and maybe more alcohol would drown this disturbing indifferent feeling.

Sunday night dragged on into Monday and with his inability to locate his partner, he, with the 'help' of the alcohol, concluded that as his partner had decided to go on without him. To start over again and find someone he would be able to trust, because it sure as hell wasn't his sorry ass. But did Starsky really think so little of him that he would actually leave him? Ask for a transfer or new partner? Did he leave town and head back to New York?

His head and heart were giving him conflicting signals. He could still feel his friend inside his heart, but his stewed head told him he had left to go on without him. But he convinced himself to continue his search one last time. Therefore Monday night he tried to find him at Huggy's. But still there was no Starsky. Huggy hadn't seen him either. He decided to stay and wait. Maybe Starsky would show up, plus Huggy had a better selection of liquor.

But late into Tuesday evening and still without any sign of his partner, Huggy had thrown him into a cab. He then had dragged himself back up to his apartment. There he found another bottle that needed his attention.

Sitting alone in his apartment did nothing but dragging him deeper into that empty dark void of grief and misery. His brain floundered around (caught? maybe) in his own condemning thoughts. That burning anger he harbored for himself and the lack of his partner, started to show around him. He lashed out in frustration and his apartment took the brunt of that rage.

Later into Tuesday night, he was compelled by that unseen connection that whispered feather-light for him to try one last place. He was hoping this would relieve some of that pain eating at his very being. He made another trip over to the other side of town, but Starsky's apartment was still just as empty as before. So he decided to just stay and wait for his partner to come back home.

Sitting alone amongst Starsky's belongings, feeling his friend close to him, he started to ask himself why. Why did he do it? That was the question he tried to answer himself. He should have known better. He was better than this. He had betrayed his own better judgment and threw all restrictions to the side and selfishly slept with his best friend's girl. Why?

And why Kira? There had been plenty of other women in their lives that had come and gone. They were both known for having meaningless flings on occasion. But there was just something about her that Hutch couldn't quite put his finger on. Was it because she could play the game just as well as he did? Play the part that could get you whomever you wanted? She was good. Too damn good. And I fell for her fucking game. And that's exactly what it ended up as. But why? Starsk, we've been together so long, so why did I do this?

He glanced over his shoulder at the picture that Starsky had placed on the china hutch behind the couch. He got up from the couch and grabbed it as he made another trip to rummage through the kitchen cabinets for more alcohol. With a new bottle, glass and picture in hand he stumbled back to the couch. He looked at the picture and remembered the day it was taken it was such a good day for them. To see that big crocked smile on his friend's face. The laughter had engulfed both of them. Many years ago he had learned from his sable haired friend how to relax and just let things be as they are and to go with the flow of life. And life was good that day.

Starsky had such a profound effect on his life that it was life altering. He had learned so much from his partner and friend. He had learned how to laugh, how to cry and how to love. Starsky came into his life and his eyes have been opened to the emotions he use to shy away from. He had learned to allow himself to be himself, to be true to who he was. And Starsky never judged. His spirited friend had simply climbed over the steel wall he had erected around his heart and permanently planted himself into it. His life was at ease and he felt content with Starsky by his side. There was no living a life without him. So how could he have done this to his soul-mate?

They had been together for over nine years, were they experiencing that nine year itch? Most couples that had been together for such a long time would start to experience a longing that didn't come with that bond. They spend seventy-five percent or more of their time together. Their partnership took over most of their lives and what little off-time they got, they usually spend together. Very much like a married couple.

Maybe that was the problem, too much time together. They never really had a private life away from each other. Not really. Maybe he was trying to get a life away from his partner and fell for a little distraction and competition, though this time it was with the same woman.

He had seen that longing that Starsky started to have for Kira. Was it jealousy he experienced because Starsky was seriously considering a relationship with her? A relationship Starsky wanted with someone other then his partner? No it wasn't that. He has never been jealous that Starsky wanted a life with someone other than himself. He even pushed his partner to start dating after Terry died. It had been nearly eight months before Starsky could go out with a lady and not want Hutch to tag along. Jealously...no definitely not. So what was it?

Maybe he just wanted to make a point. But he still didn't know exactly what that point was. Win the competition for the woman? He didn't know.

Was he trying to escape the world of being a cop? Trying to find some kind of light in the world that was edged sharp with death and destruction? Both of their souls slowly showing the scars left from that invisible knife that slowly sliced away at them. They have fought the roughest streets of Bay City. The inner-city life of despair owned most of their life. But being a cop was who he was. It was who they were. So was the whole sorted thing with Kira just a way to distance himself from that part of him? Even for just momentarily? Just long enough to try and feel normal? But He had failed beyond miserably if this was his way of escaping. And he hurt the most important person in his life doing it, his partner. So escaping the cop inside him wasn't an answer either.

Maybe he was just trying to see how far he could push before his partner pushed back. Was he trying to pick a fight? They had been together for so long and they had never really had a serious fight. Was he unconsciously wanting to see what will happen if he pushed his partner too far? He wasn't tired of being his partner, and he still wanted him as his best friend. And he still fearlessly loved him. So why would he want a fight with him? And why fight over a woman? This too was another unanswered question.

Maybe he just wanted to find himself. Find himself? He didn't even know where to start. And just who was he? He thought about his stringent upbringing. To be molded into his fathers expectations to become a doctor. Then he went and defied his father and quit medical school and selfishly enrolls into the police academy. And there to excel into the detective he was with the help of one unique partner. And now he went and defiled that relationship with his partner and did the unthinkable. So what does that make him? Someone who couldn't live up to his father's expectations and his partner's trust? What kind of a person did something like that? No-one but a callous and selfish prick. That's all I am, a selfish son-of-bitch. I'm just a prick after my own pleasure. What a piece of crap I turned out to be. He berated himself as the loathing grew out of control. That burning inside deepened, as his life was spiraling downwards.

There were just too many questions and he had no answers. He sat and stewed for the past few days and still came up empty handed. There had to be a definitive answer to at least one of them but he had nothing. He had inflicted an injury to the most important part of their relationship and yet he had no answer to the why.

He had done something so unforgettable, something so reprehensible, so vile that Starsky would never find it in his heart to ever want to remain partnered with him. He had damaged their friendship beyond repair.

Now he felt like his life was in the path of a tornado. There was no running. No hiding. That twister was coming and churning at his heart and soul and there was no way out. That funnel was sucking all the air from his lungs and leaving him with an empty chest full of scorching pain. Everything inside him was in an agonizing pain. The only answer that would keep his life from totally being swept away was nowhere to be found. Starsky was gone, and he was to blame. And that whirlwind churned and ate away at him.

S/H+++S/H+++S/H+++S/H

Hutch had floated in the soft world of nothingness for some time, and he felt disconnected, hollow and numb. Even in this unconscious state his heart and soul was lost and in pain, a pain that yearned to be healed.

He stirred slightly. As he slowly came back to the world of the living his body started telling him that something was wrong. Pain started to invade his mind. His senses picked up a smell that only permeated hospitals, sterile and antiseptic. Confusion jumped around in his head.

His golden lashes slowly fluttered and allowed a hint of blue to appear from below. He slowly lifted heavy eyelids to find that he was lying in a softly lit room. There was a soft shade of mauve painted on the walls. To his left the gold rays of the afternoon sun trying to seep through the soft linen curtains that hung over the window.

A sharp pain wrenched a moan from him. As he lifted his left arm to wrap it around his aching chest, there was a slight pull as if his hand was restricted. He rolled his head to the side and through half-mast eyelids he caught sight of the clear tubing that ran down to the back of it. The pain-ridden memories from some years past, of being strapped to a chair and forced into heroin addiction, came crashing forward. That was one hell that he feared and didn't ever want to relive. The adrenalin pumped through his body. Panicking, he reached over with his right hand with the intention of yanking out the nightmarish needle from the back of his hand.

"Ah ah... leave it alone Hutch!" Starsky quickly stood from the chair that he had sat in the last couple hours. It was an unwelcome routine to sit in a hospital room next to their partner and worry. A routine that left one sitting drained because of the worrying for the other lying next to them. But it was their routine, to always be by the other's side, whatever the circumstances.

He reached over and pulled Hutch's right arm back towards himself. He stood and gently but firmly held the arm down but at the same time slowly stroking and caressing the cool skin with his thumb. Unconsciously he felt compelled to touch... to comfort him. He had to ease some of the anxiety, his own included, as he understood the phantom panic in his partner. He held on until he felt the muscle in Hutch's arm release the tension and relaxed as the panic receded. He then softly brushed his hand up his arm in a tender caress before he broke the connection.

Hutch was looking a little better. The blue-tinge was replaced by a soft paleness, not as grave-stone white as earlier, but still a pale.

"Starsky?" Hutch slowly blinked through the haze as he continued to gather his senses.

"In the flesh." He reached up and gently ran his knuckles down the side of his cheek. Even with the barbed road their relationship was experiencing at this time, comforting the other in times of need always surfaced and came without thinking.

"Why am I here? And why are you here?" The question fell before he could stop it. He rolled slightly to the left side, away from his partner. He didn't deserve comforting from the man that he had betrayed. His heart wanted, needed, and even craved the euphoria that came with the gentleness, but his head told him the betrayal ended his right to immerse himself in the compassion that was being given to him.

With the feeling of being rejected by Hutch, Starsky took in a slow breath and let out a fatigued sigh. He knew right then with Hutch pulling away from the foundation of their friendship, he had a fight on his hands, to try and get Hutch back.

He wanted the Hutch he had started to care for and love so many years ago. That Hutch that was just as passionate and attentive with his love towards him. His first impression of Hutch, so many years ago, was him to be aloof, but that soon was proven to be untrue. Hutch showed just as much or even more physical affection as he did. From the first time Starsky had physically shown a small amount of spontaneous affection towards him, it was as if the floodgates opened and Hutch allowed himself to show that hidden side of him. But that was towards his partner only. Starsky was the only privileged person he allowed himself to show this side. There were still walls the public wasn't allowed to see around.

Starsky loved the man that could at one minute be snatching up a perp with rock-hard confidence and a second later give him a look of pure zeal. His gaze at some criminals was an ice-burg blue. It was hard and cold. But yet there was this soft tenderness side that flowed as a butterfly with the wind. He loved every aspect of this man. Not just one piece, but the whole man. It was those different layers that made up one remarkable and unparalleled partner and friend.

"Well I came home and found that Goldilocks had raided the pantry and was asleep in my bed. You really got yourself into a mess Hutchinson. They're getting fluids in ya. Seems you're dehydrated. Not to mention drunk beyond reason." Starsky reached over, placed his hand on his chin and slowly turned his head so that Hutch would look at him. Hutch blinked at him and turned back away from him, adverting eye contact. He held no longer the right to look him in the eyes and he wanted to escape deeper into that black hole he had resided in the last few days.

"I want to go home. I don't need to be here. And I don't need any help," he said sourly.

Palming his right hand onto the mattress, he tried to push himself up and was met by a piercing pain erupting in his head. His stomach was reminding him that it could still roll with nausea. And sharp pain stabbed through his chest. He fell heavily back against the pillow.

"Right, you don't need any help. That's why you're laying there with a cracked rib, busted knuckles, stitches, a slight concussion, and a bruised foot. Not to mention you almost did yourself in with alcohol poisoning. Sure you don't need anyone." He didn't want it to come out as rough as it did, but from the hurt look that Hutch displayed, he realized it came out a little too harsh. He knew most of Hutch's injuries were unintentional, being the natural klutz he was, and then mix in alcohol and it was no wonder Hutch was in the shape he was in. But the busted knuckles were a sign that the big Viking had lashed out in frustration. He softened his voice, "we'll see what the doctor has to say and then we'll see about getting you out of here," Starsky said as he slowly walked to the other side of the bed so Hutch could see him. Again Hutch tried to roll.

"Stop it Hutch." A slight irritation crept up in him.

"Stop what?"

"Stop trying to avoid me." But isn't that what he himself had done? He had disappeared for the last few days. He didn't think of it as avoiding his friend, but rather trying to sort it out on his own. He was here now, and he was going to stay, wanted or not. He reached over the rail again and gently grabbed Hutch's left arm. He felt the slight tug from the arm as Hutch tried to free himself. But Starsky held tight. The grip wasn't hard on the skin but stabbed right to the heart.

The touch gripped Hutch's heart and squeezed. It was a touch that warmed his aching heart. But the ice-cold self-loathing put out any warmth that he would had relished in. At any other time Hutch would have taken comfort in the familiar touch, but the truth was he had forfeited that right and felt he didn't deserve the affection. "I want to go home." He decided to look up at him. The set of blue eyes that looked back at him held a world that was joined to his, though his half was in agony. He sucked in a rigid breath. "Please?"

Starsky saw the hurt and pain in his eyes. If there ever was a time he needed Hutch to respond to that physical bond they shared, it was now. To know that Hutch was still able to see that he still cared. But it just didn't happen this time. There was a bloating distance between them. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Please don't shut me out Hutch. He let go of the connection on his arm and placed his hands on the bedrail. "Umm... well see, there might be a slight problem with that."

"Starsky, what are you talking about?" he shifted his weight around and then reached up with his right hand and rubbed his fingers across his brow. He found the bandage that covered the cut that now was held together with four stitches. His right hand itself wrapped.

"Well seems your place has been redecorated and needs a little cleaning up. So I'm going to have you as a guest at my place." Screw it Hutch, I need this just as much as you. Don't you get it, I'm hurting too. He reached over and ran his thumb over the cool flesh of his cheek. He felt an uninhibited need to reach out and try to soothe some of the pain. That pain that was physical as well as emotional. His own emotions included. Even with the anger that still lingered, the need to care for him, to touch him, to have that physical relationship that was a base of their life together, urged him to look past the hurt. He reached up and fingered a few strands of deep-gold out of his friend's eyes.

The touch again speared Hutch right in his heart. It was as blissful as if he had never betrayed their friendship. I don't deserve this from you. Why would you want it from me? I'm a fuck-up. His self-loathing was erasing any hope that his heart had to absorb the much needed affection.

"Hutch, you want out of here, than you're coming home with me. Understood?" He relayed the message with a firm look. He looked deep into the river-blue eyes that he had come to trust so many years ago. He saw sadness and distance. It was a set of eyes that wanted to escape from the invisible pain that had swallowed him.

Hutch took in a deep breath that in it's self shot a hot pain through his damaged chest. "Fine," softly escaped him. He again looked away. Why is he doing this? He's acting as if what I did was fine with him. He feels that it was perfectly OK for me to screw around with his woman. Everything is so wrong.

S/H+++S/H+++S/H+++S/H

The whole ride through town, Hutch had sat heavily against the passenger door. His left arm held as tight as he dared against his aching ribcage. Every bump and turn reverberated through the heavy medal car and shoot right to his body. The tremendous hang-over was stomping across his brain and his head pounded with every movement of the car as well as it kept in rhythm of his heartbeat. It was merciless. A heavy perspiration clung to his brow and gold-blond bangs plastered his forehead. He took short shallow breaths to try and ward off the stabbing pain, but that was leaving him slightly light-headed as well.

Starsky had driven as easily as possible, watching for the pot-holes and dips, but he knew that Hutch was suffering. He knew that his friend's mind was preoccupied with his pain and the trip home, than what needed to be aired out between them. Now just wasn't the right time.

"Starsky, I really think I need to go home." He felt his life was falling apart, crumbling around him and he just wanted to go home and wallow more in his self-destructive cesspool. Having his friend act as if nothing happened between them just added to his need to being alone. He just wanted to slither away and disappear. He had become some vile beast that no longer deserves the friend that now looks over him.

"No." Starsky kept his voice level. "The only way I was able to get you sprung from the hospital was to promise the doc that I would watch over ya."

"I don't need a babysitter. I just want to go home. I can take care of myself." He roughly spat out as he readjusted his position in the seat. His busted chest was wrapped in a pressure bandage but still with every dip from the heavy car sent splinters of shards through him.

"Nope. You're coming home with me. Doctor's orders," his voice still level but with a slight edge to it.

"Screw the doctor's orders! I said I want to go home."

"And again...you're coming home with me Hutch." He reached over and lightly placed his hand on Hutch's thigh and gave a soft pat. One thing Starsky had come to know over the years about his friend it was that Hutch could be noxiously stubborn when he chose. And Hutch was choosing this time to show that side. But Starsky looked over at him to relay the message that he was in charge right now and Hutch can sit and whine all he wanted but in the end he was to do as he was told. And right now that was he was coming home with him.

Just then a truck unexpectedly veered over into their lane from oncoming traffic, Starsky instantly placed his right hand across Hutch's chest, holding him in place. He slammed on the brakes as he wrenched the wheel to the right to avoid a head-on collision. The rear tires were suddenly smoking after they gripped the asphalt and came to a sudden stop.

Starsky took in a deep breath and looked over at his partner. Hutch was seated stiff and white-faced. What little color he had regained at the hospital had instantly drained. He felt Hutch take in a sharp breath. He hadn't really taken in the fact that his hand was still placed against Hutch's chest covering his heart from possible harm.

With his head pounding mercilessly, Hutch glanced down at the hand that was placed against his chest. It was a hand protecting him. A hand making sure that he was safe. How can he still care? His heart pounded wildly with anxiety. This isn't right. How could he still love me? He had took what they had and stomped it into the ground, crushing it into dust. And yet here it was the man he had hurt on so many different levels was making sure that he was safe. His breath started quickening and shallowed. He was on the verge of hyperventilating. His heart was pounding his ribcage with no mercy. He had to escape. Run! His fight or flight kicked in and it was flight that took over because he sure the hell didn't have the strength to fight. And that included with his mixed up black-emotions.

As Starsky turned in his seat to his left to made sure the truck was safe, Hutch reached for the door handle, quickly popped it and as fast as he could, climbed out the car, slammed the door shut and took off in the opposite direction. He bolted across two lanes of heavy oncoming traffic and down a side-alley between two buildings. His badly bruised foot and toes were hindering the effort. With the afternoon hot sun and the tremendous aftereffects of the alcohol from the past five days, his long legs struggling to keep him upright and threatening to buckle out from under him. The street and buildings were twisting and contorting as he ran. He wasn't going to get far.

Starsky heard the door latch but before he could say a word, Hutch was gone.

"What the fu...?" He swiveled in the seat to the right to see Hutch run past the backend of the Torino. He then twisted back around to watch as Hutch ran across and through traffic that was coming fast at him. His heart slammed into his ribcage as a large sedan squealing breaks as it avoided a collision with the big blond. Starsky had reached for his own door-latch but a green Javelin squeezed between the truck and the Torino giving Starsky no room or time to open the door and run after his partner.

"Damn it Hutchinson!" He yelled out. With the car stopped in the middle of the road and drivers behind him impatient for him to move, Starsky threw the car into first gear and quickly palmed the steering wheel around and u-turned in the middle of the heavy traffic. There were a few horns announcing the other driver's disapproval. But Starsky's mind was on the trail of his bullheaded partner, to care about the other drivers around him. Starsky got the car across the two lanes of traffic and wheeled it down the alleyway that his partner had disappeared down.

Halfway down that alley he slammed on the brakes as he spotted the unmistakable blond hair of his tall partner. He jumped out the car and sprinted towards him. Hutch had been known to be exasperating at times but it was mainly job related. But right now he was wearing Starsky's patients see-through-thin.

There amongst the tall piles of trashcans, old wooden crates, and scattered debris, Hutch was about doubled over. His left arm wrapped tight across his middle with his hand clutching at his stomach. His right hand pressed heavily against the brick wall of the building, holding him up as best as he could. With the exception of an orange tabby cat sitting on the crate a couple feet away, the ally was empty.

"Damn it Hutch, what the fuck is going on with you?" His voice raised in anger. His expression was unforgiving and hard. His temper flared. One of his shortcomings was that he had never really learned to hold his temper in check, but when it came to his headstrong and notoriously bullheaded friend he learned to let some things slide. Tolerance. But with blatant disregard for his own safety and throwing himself out into a crowded road, he wasn't about to let Hutch get away with. "Don't you know you could have gotten yourself killed running in traffic like that?" He didn't get any reply or acknowledgment from him. "Are you hearing me Hutchinson?" Starsky paced slightly behind his friend waiting for some kind of a reaction that Hutch was even on the same planet with him.

For Hutch the thunderous pounding in his head, sickly smell of garbage and too much alcohol tried to reverse the ground and sky. His stomach rolled through a tsunami size wave of nausea. Even with the fluids and pain medication that were administered at the hospital along with a swallowed pill for the nausea, the hot afternoon sun, the sprint through traffic and the smell of used grease and trash from the back-alley added to his misery. His heartbeat amplified and pulsed in his ears and with a sudden rush of heat, he felt light headed and weak. He tried breathing through his mouth to ward off the nausea but the thick smelly air of the hot alley chocked him.

Hutch convulsively swallowed, desperately trying to stop the bile from rising. Suddenly Hutch's throat clamped up and he felt his breath catch. He again swallowed hard to try and stop the inevitable, but his throat tightened up more. His eyes started to water and everything around him suddenly was off in a distance and his mind went to his stomach. He had heard the familiar roar of his partner's car and then his friend's voice but it was all distant background noises. He knew what was about to happen, he then suddenly heaved. His muscles constricted his stomach, his legs threatening to buckle under him. He chocked as the heaves, guilt and regrets hit him again. He was sick...physically and emotionally. Through slit and tear-filled eyes he watched as the ground tried to reach up and grab him.

Again for the second time that day Starsky stepped up behind him and reached around the blond's belly. Starsky gently laid his left arm across Hutch's left arm that was so desperately trying to stop the uncontrollable retching. He slowly slid his hand under Hutch's left and firmly but gently applied pressure on his abdomen. His right arm was firmly planted at Hutch's center-back. Even with the chest wrap around Hutch's body, he was still able to feel the large contractions on his muscle as the retching again took over his friend's body.

"Damn Hutch," he softly swore to himself. His anger slipped slightly as Hutch's agony continued.

As the violence eased and finally stopped, Hutch slowly straightened himself up. But Starsky had adjusted his hold and now held him around the chest from behind.

"I'm alright. Let me go," he said roughly over his shoulder as he cleared his throat a couple times. He tried to raise his hand to his face, his eyes streaming with tears from the retching, but his hand and arm were stopped from Starsky's hold.

"No." Starsky said to him, his mouth close to sweaty gold-blond hair. Even with a quick clean up at the hospital, there was still a stench of alcohol that clung to his friend. But under that was the soft aroma that was Hutch. An herbal sent that he was familiar with.

"Starsky, I said... to let me go," his voice growled out softly between clinched teeth. His breath catching slightly as his body was recovering from the onslaught of vomiting.

"And I said no," said in a level voice. "I'm not letting you go Hutch," the insinuations spook loud and clear.

Hutch closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. I destroyed us and it didn't even register in his brain. Doesn't he understand what I did? I ruined everything that we had between us. I crushed what we had. All over a damn woman.

Starsky took hold of his shoulders and with a solid grip he turned Hutch around and carefully but firmly pinned him to the wall that he had just leaned up against. The last rung of ladder from the fire escape that snaked up the side of the building dangled not but a foot away. He slid his hands down and held him with a strong grip on his upper arms. He could feel Hutch's body trembling, the result of the vomiting and fatigue or from something more? Determined blue eyes met with watery, uncertain blue ones.

"Starsky I..." Hutch's face was pasty and gaunt. A sheen of sweat mixed with the tears that ran down his face.

"No! Now you listen and listen good. This is how it's going to go Hutchinson..." his voice resolute. He now adjusted his hold as he held Hutch tight against the wall with his left arm. He reached up with his right hand to thumb away some of the moisture from Hutch's face. His hand was batted at. But with a hard stern look to relay the unspoken message that it was going to happen anyways, Starsky again raised his hand to continue. This time Hutch didn't fight. He closed his eyes and allowed his face to be caressed. It was a touch that he thought he would never feel again. And he felt that he didn't deserve to ever feel again. But it was frightfully welcomed.

"No more games Hutch. No more running away. We're going to face this. Now...you're going to get you big ass back in the car and we're going home. Then we're going to get to the bottom of all this shit." He looked deep into Hutch's eyes, looking into his soul. Hutch couldn't hind from that stare, the one that held their whole life together.

Starsky let up on his hold and Hutch slightly deflated and dropped his head. He placed his hand under Hutch's chin and lightly lifted his head. Eyes again met. "Now, do you need me to help you to the car?" He asked. Hutch slowly closed his eyes and slightly shook his head 'no'. His heart pounded his chest with anxiety.

Starsky slowly stepped back and allowed Hutch to come off the wall and straighten himself out. The fight was out of him. And it wasn't because his head pounded and his gut still rolled, it was because he knows that his partner was right. It was time.

With Starsky walking at his side he slowly made his way back to the car. There would be no more running. He had to face him.

The ride to the apartment was uneasily silent. The weight of the silence in the car was heavy with unspoken words. It was a burden that pushed Hutch further down into that dark and unfamiliar place that he was scared of. He was scared that this was where his life was going to end. But he deserved it. He deserved to be alone.

S/H+++S/H+++S/H+++S/H

With Starsky protectively one step behind him with his hands riding both railings, Hutch slowly ascended the stairs up to Starsky's apartment.

After Starsky replaced the back-pillows back on the couch, Hutch sat heavily down, that hammer in his head continued to drive the nails through his brain. It pounded in rhythm with his heart, and the nails plunged deeper. The shot of adrenalin in the run from the car now gone, his strength was waned and there was nothing left. He was drained, there was no energy reserve left in him. With over a week of no real sleep and the last five days on a liquid diet, and that being alcohol, Hutch didn't have the energy to fight with his partner. But he knew that Starsky needed answers as well as he needed his friend back. He scooted over to the corner of the couch and propped himself up with the throw-pillow that Starsky had plucked up off the floor.

"You comfortable? You need one of those tasty pills the doc gave ya for pain?" Starsky asked still with concern for his friend's wellbeing, his own stomach fluttering with his own anxiety.

"No," though his head throbbed relentlessly. The weeks-long headache had and still plaque him. Maybe now it will ease. Maybe if they do get closure from all this shit between them, it will stop riding him. He sucked in a deep breath and slowly exhaled as another nail was pounded in behind his eyes.

"Fine," firmly said. Starsky walked over to the coffee table and pulled it back to its original position in front of the couch. He then turned and sat on it in front of his partner.

Hutch steeled himself. Here they were. It was time to explain the unexplainable. His mind ran wild and there was no affirmative answer for him to give. He momentarily closed his eyes. He raised his left hand slowly and rubbed at the bandage on his forehead. He felt a world of regret pushing him down. His heart continued its quest to escape his chest.

Starsky sat with his arms folded across his chest and after getting a good look at his partner he swallowed his anger and proceeded cautiously. He knew that if he pushed to hard his emotionally sensitive friend may recede back into that cocoon of self-loathing that he had wrapped himself in. But he also knew that if they were to get past all this bullshit he needed to get Hutch to talk. Please just don't shut me out Hutch, not now. I need you back buddy. He took in a deep breath and allowed the obvious question to go first.

"Now you answer this...why?"

There it was the question that Hutch couldn't give a straight answer to because he himself didn't have the answer. He fidgeted slightly where he sat. The pains of his body weren't the real pain. It was the ones in his heart that hurt him the most.

"I...I don't know w..why," the stammer evident that he was also emotionally exhausted. And the truth was he didn't really know why. But he knew one thing was for sure, it sure the hell wouldn't ever happen again. But the emptiness of the answer weighed heavy and he couldn't look him in the eye. His partner and friend deserved a better answer, was entitled to a better answer. But he couldn't give what he didn't have. He took in a quickened breath and he dropped his head then let out a heavy sigh. Everything was so empty, his heart, his soul, his head, and now his answers. All empty of what mattered. And what mattered most, his friend and partner. I really need you back in my life Starsk. But I don't know how to tell you the answer that you're looking for.

It wasn't an answer, not a real one anyways. But it was the only one Starsky knew he was going to get. And he knew there were times that there just wasn't an answer to everything that happens in life. And what happened with Kira was one of those times. He knew from the shape his friend was in, Hutch had beat himself up trying to find a reason. But that wasn't the important question. Not now. Not at this point. It was in the past and he was looking forward. They were already as low as they could get in the relationship, and there was only looking up and to the future with this man that he had lived a life with the past nine years and had no intentions of changing that. They have a future to look forward to.

Starsky reached over to him and placed his hand on the side of his face with his thumb under his chin and gently raised his head so the blue eyes to his friend's soul was visible, to see the bare essence of who he was.

"Fine, then you answer this Hutch..." he had to swallow hard, "do you still love me?" The question had stuck in the back of his throat but with great effort he was able to dislodge it.

There it was the ultimate question. A question that should never have to be asked nor did it ever need to be answered. Not between them. It was a pure love with no reasoning and uninhibited. And it had the power to bring either of them to his knees. So questioning it was simply unheard of.

Hutch took in a shocked intake of air. His eyes showed he couldn't believe that Starsky would even ask that question. Love you? God knows I do. I love you more now then any other time. Because I know you still love me. Aw Starsk...what have I done? If there was any strength left, it was gone. Then all the walls that he had rebuilt around himself, fell crumbling around him. "P..please forgive m...mee. I'm so sorry. Ohgod, I'm so s..sorry. I'm so f..freakin' sorry. I wish I...I could take it back. Starsk p..please..." with that, his emotions weld up and the tears exploded from him. He had no strength to hold them back. He leaned forward towards his friend and reached out for him. In turn Starsky quickly grabbed him as Hutch just about propelled himself at him. Starsky grabbed him and held him tight as the agony slowly escaped his friend. Hutch's whole body was rocking with grief and sorrow. Starsky too felt tears on his own cheeks.

"I'm s..such a s..selfish ass," Hutch got out between chocked sobs.

Starsky drew him in closer holding him tight, his check against wheaten-blond hair he lightly told him, "selfish, never. An ass, yes." He ran his fingers up the back of Hutch's head and through silken hair.

"I will only forgive you, if you forgive yourself Hutch," softly told as Starsky softly brushed his mouth against Hutch's ear. That was all it took to undo Hutch even more. He crumbled even more into Starsky's arms.

"Shhh babe...we're going to be alright. Hear me? Everything will be alright," Starsky soothed. His right hand slowly rubbing circles on his back as the left firmly placed on the back of his head, his fingers softly messaging under the long gold strands.

After a few moments of intense brake-down, Starsky slowly dislodged Hutch and held him at arms length. The emotional turmoil had left both of them drained. Hutch slowly shifted his weight and leaned back into the cushions again. His face wet with shed tears. Starsky leaned over and plucked a couple tissues from the box on the end-table, shifted his weight over to the edge of the couch, then wiped his friend's face.

Hutch sat with his eyes closed and turned his face into the gentle touch. It was mesmerizing. He took in a deep breath and allowed himself to relish in the familiar and much needed love coming from his friend. He slowly got his breathing to a normal rhythm though his heart still pounded his chest. He slowly got his mind to stop the racing, slowed his thinking and got his emotions back to a controllable level. He looked up at his friend.

"I can't live my life without you. You left and I had to face the fact that I couldn't make it on my own. I don't even want to find out. I need you and no one else. And I have no one else to blame but myself for what I did to you...us. I really screwed up. I don't know how to fix it," softly said.

"Well I'm not going to argue with you on that. But listen babe..." the familiar term of endearment that was used between them, sang in Hutch's heart, "what matters now is that we both know that it won't happen again. I trust you Hutch...with my life. And I'm not about to just throw you out on the street alone just because you had a lapse of self-control." Starsky reached over and brushed some strands of silken-gold from his bloodshot blue eyes then tenderly cupped his cheek with his left hand. "There's nothing to fix," softly said with a reassuring look.

Hutch took in a deep breath, reached up and placed his hand over his friends and pressed his cheek into his friend's palm. He closed his eyes to the touch and allowed himself to take in the wondrous feeling. He felt a sudden calm envelop him and the pain that was squeezing his heart released its grip and his heart refilled with the love flowing from his friend. This is where he wanted to be, needed to be, here in the calming and loving presents of the man that he had come to know and love and would give his own life for if needed.

"Now...how about we say we lay down and take a nap. You look like you're about to fall out on me pal?" Starsky asked as he looks over his friend. Mother-hen mode was back in full force and he now hovered.

Hutch blink heavily as the emotional turmoil was now over and their life was back on a level ground. His body exhausted and throbbing, he had to agree.

"I am tired," said as he closed his eyes and rubbed at the deep farrow between his brows.

"Alright Blondie, let's get you a glass of water for your pill the doc said to take and then we go lay down for a couple hours. Then we get some food into ya. You're really looking terrible Hutch." Starsky patted him on the knee as he got up and walked to the kitchen sink.

"You're all heart. Starsk?"

"Yeah?"

"Where you been?" Hutch asked over his shoulder towards the kitchen. Not sure if he should tread in that direction of the conversation.

"I went for a drive." Starsky said with a deep sigh as he filled a glass with water.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Hutch softly asked.

"Yeah. I think so. I found a big blond damsel-in-distress that still needs me," he said as he brushed his hand across Hutch's shoulders as he walked behind the couch. He walked around the end-table and handed him the glass of water and the prescribed pill. Hutch took the glass but there was a slight hesitation for the pill but he slowly took it anyways. He looked up at his friend. Received the message that it was alright and he swallowed the pill.

"I'll be alright here," indicating the couch, Hutch told him as he placed the glass down on the end table.

"No, I think you'll be better off on the bed. Come on, let's go."

Hutch looked up at his friend and decided that the bed was closer to the bathroom, just in case he was needing it. "Alright." Hutch slowly scooted to the edge of the couch.

Starsky offered his hand as Hutch slowly pulled himself up. As Hutch straightened up he continued to grip his friend's hand and gave it a quick squeeze before he released it. He then reached up and hooked his right hand behind Starsky neck and drew him closer. He slowly tilted his head and lovingly placed his brow on his friends. Both stood with eyes closed and took in the much needed moment. He ran his fingers up through chocolate curls and softly messaged. It was just a quiet, soft reconnection that they both craved. Both hearts now synchronized in rhythm with the other. He released his hold. Lake blue eyes met sky blue and a soft smile went across both men's face.

Hutch slowly limped his way to the bed. "What about work?" Hutch asked as he sat on the edge of the bed. Starsky bent over and removed his shoes for him. Hutch's bruised foot throbbing and relished in the removal of the shoe. He was without socks, Starsky hadn't found the missing one before the trip to the hospital and opted him to just go without them.

"Called Dobey from the hospital. Told him you had a slight accident at home and we were going to need a couple more days. And no, I didn't go into detail."

"And?"

"He said if we don't get back to work Saturday morning he was putting us on traffic duty for a week."

The mention of the words hospital and one of his best officers in the same sentence was all it took for Captain Dobey to turn his earlier agitation with his two detectives into a more concerned superior, and underneath that a concerned friend. And he would give them a little more leniency then he should, because this was one of his best teams. And he needed them in tip-top shape. And that included not only physical but mental and emotional as well. The connection that bonded his two detectives was nothing short of forged steel. And for one to hurt, the other did just as bad. He had seen plenty of his partners that were close, but nothing could have ever prepared him for the unbreakable bond between Starsky and Hutch. They were one solid working entity.

Hutch looked him in the eyes, his eyes searching for absolution. "Thanks," softly said.

"For what?"

"For everything you've done for me, after...after what I did, you still..." his voice chocked a little. Hutch looked down, took in a quick breath, "I don't deserve you." Hutch shyly looked back up at him. He saw nothing but love in those reassuring sapphire eyes of his friend and partner.

"Shhh babe, it's alright," Starsky again reassuring his friend. Starsky reached and ran his hand through blond hair fluffing it slightly. "Come on..."

With Starsky's help Hutch slowly laid down, his chest and head protested the movement. His eyeballs felt as they were about to pop out of their sockets at any time. The much needed sleep wrapped around him and tugged sharply at him.

"And no you don't. But I don't have the energy to break in a new best friend and partner. So looks like I'm stuck with ya." Starsky said as he walked to the far side of the bed after flipping off the bedroom light. He slid a hip on the bed and lay down next to his friend. He rolled over onto his side towards him. "And you're stuck with me. Hutch, you know that I would do anything in this world for you. No matter how bad things get, you will always be my best friend. Now, go to sleep, you definitely need your beauty sleep Blondie."

Hutch rolled slightly onto his side. Starsky scooted over and behind him. He looped his arm over Hutch and gently tugged him in closer. Just a couple weeks earlier this closeness would have been unworthy. But right now it was blissful. To have that closeness back, it was soul-stirring.

"Kira?" Hutch softly questioned.

"Shhh…we'll figure her out later. Sleep is all we need right now."

Hutch leaned back into Starsky's embrace, closed his eyes. His dark warrior was back to care and protect him...even from himself. As sleep quickly grabbed hold he softly whispered over his shoulder, "and yes...I always have and always will," the answer to the earlier question.

"Me and thee Hutch. Always."

End