Past and Present Re-mix

Starsky and Hutch walked into the dark bedroom. The room was small, furnished only with a single bed, a tiny wardrobe and faded green curtains that seem to shield the gruesome find from the outside world. To the left was a bathroom. The bathtub looked grimy, and the unpleasant odor of old vomit hit the men’s nostrils as they peered through the doorway. The smell of blood and death hung strongly in the air.

Notes:

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Work Text:

Past And Present

Starsky and Hutch walked into the dark bedroom. The room was small, furnished only with a single bed, a tiny wardrobe and faded green curtains that seem to shield the gruesome find from the outside world. To the left was a bathroom. The bathtub looked grimy, and the unpleasant odor of old vomit hit the men’s nostrils as they peered through the doorway. The smell of blood and death hung strongly in the air.

The latest victim a female this time was lying on the bed fully clothed. The last three had been male, around 17 to 19 years of age, but they had been found in the same way: still clothed and sprawled on a bed in some run-down motel room. All the evidence suggested that sex wasn’t a motive for the killings. The grim tragedy lay in the youth of the victims; as far as the detectives could tell, this girl wasn’t any older than 17.

Starsky walked over to the medical examiner, “What’ve you got for us today, Charlie?”

“Oh, hi, Starsky. I didn't see you standing there.”

Charlie was tall, had dark brown hair and brown eyes, and looked very tired. He was about 45 but seemed a lot older. His wasn’t a nice job, and anyone could see that it affected him deeply. “We’ve got a female, I would say between 16 and 19. Death was caused by a knife wound to the throat, with massive blood loss. We’ll know a lot more after the autopsy.”

“Time of death?” Starsky asked.

”Around midnight.”

” I don’t suppose the murder weapon was just lying around . . .”

“No. Sorry, Starsky, no such luck.”

Starsky sighed, “Thanks, Charlie.” He patted the medical examiner on the shoulder and then made his way over to his partner. “It’s the same M.O. as the rest, Hutch. Only this time, it’s a young girl. God! We gotta get this sick bastard soon.”

Hutch looked over at Starsky. He could see this case was eating away at his caring partner. As always, Hutch wanted nothing more than to shelter his curly haired friend from such hate and waste, but given the realities of their job, he knew he couldn’t. With a sad smile, he simply said, “We will, partner.”

The detectives searched the room one more time before turning to leave. But the killer was very good; he never left any clues behind.

Starsky and Hutch walked outside, the sun warming their faces. It was going to be another hot day, and they could see the heat starting to rise off of the Torino, as they made their way to back to it.

* * *

At the station, the partners sat at their desks, trying to make some sense out of the whole mess. They went through the testimonies of the victims’ families and friends, looking for a link, but nothing was forthcoming.

Starsky sat back heavily in his chair and sighed loudly, causing the other officers to look up sympathetically. Then, he brought his hand up, scrubbed at his eyes, and glanced at his partner. “I think we need a break from all this shit.”

Looking up from the file he was holding Hutch answered. “That sounds like a good plan, partner.”

Hutch got up, stretching his long limbs until you could almost hear them crack. Grabbing his jacket, he made his way to Starsky’s side. Together, they walked out into the heat of the day. Squinting up at the hot sun, Starsky retrieved his shades placing them on his nose; he caught up with Hutch who was still walking towards the car.

* * *

When Starsky and Hutch pulled up outside The Pits, it was the lunch-time rush; so they parked behind the bar. Huggy didn’t like his customers using that space, as it was reserved for employers but he always let the detectives park there.

Starsky and Hutch entered the pits. The bar was dimly light making Starsky remove his shades. The stale smoke hung heavy in the air. And the heat from the crowd left a nasty sweaty odor all around.. Carefully, the partners made their way to the small booth reserved for them and sat down. A few minutes later, Anita brought their beers over.

“Hi, Anita. Is Huggy around, darling?”

“Sure thing, handsome. He’s in back. Been helping out in the kitchen, we’re short handed ’cos the cook called in sick, and we got a rush on. But I’ll go tell him you want a word.” The waitress winked at Starsky and blew him a kiss. Then, with a cheeky smile, she left.

Hutch just rolled his eyes at the display sighing out loud. “When you’ve quite finished flirting with Anita . . .”

“Awe . . . are you jealous, Hutch?”

Turning bright red Hutch coughed to clear his throat before he stuttered, “D-don’t be st-stupid!”

Starsky looked at his partner through long dark lashes then fluttered them at his friend in a flirting gesture. Then seeing Hutch was rising to the teasing Starsky; leaned over and conspiratorially whispered, “Don’t worry, Blintz. I still love ya.” He winked and sat up, very pleased with himself. Hutch fidgeted in his seat trying to get comfortable as he looked nervously around seeing if anyone was taken notice. Seeing it was safe he gave a nervous laugh. Fortunately, Huggy chose that time to turn up saving him from more embarrassment.

“Well, if it’s not the City’s finest! It’s about time you two showed up. I’ve been asking around the street for you.” Huggy was not only one of their best snitches, he was also a good friend to them. Huggy would help when needed even as far as on one occasion going undercover with Hutch as a gay dude at The Green Parrot.

Right now, dressed as flamboyantly as always, he stood next to the detectives, wearing a bright purple shirt, bright green trousers and a light green jacket. Starsky looked up at Huggy with an amused smile; as always, his friend was colorfully dressed. He’d never worn plain clothes in all the years the partners had known him.

Huggy sat down beside Starsky casting a knowing glance at Hutch. “You okay there, my blond brother? You look a bit flustered.”

Feeling the heat in his cheeks again, Hutch snapped “Can we keep to the reason we are here, please? Have you got anything for us or not?”

"Hey, man, take it easy! Just messing with you.” Huggy said as he chuckled

“He’s all right, Huggy. Just tired, aren’t you, Blondie?” Starsky nudged Hutch’s foot under the table. When he got Hutch’s attention Starsky smiled.

Anita arrived at that moment to take their food order. Starsky ordered for them both, “We’ll have the special of the day please, sweetheart.”

The trio watched Anita leave, Huggy then got down to business. “I’m sorry guys, but the street is very quiet. Either no one knows anything, or they’re just not talking.”

“It’s okay, Huggy. This whole case is leaving a bad taste in my mouth.”

Hutch grabbed his beer, took a long swallow, and then rubbed a hand over his face. Starsky was right, he was tired, and it was only midday. Lately, he hadn’t been sleeping well what with the case and a personal problem he was having.

Anita made her way through the crowd to bring the detectives their food, and Huggy left them alone to eat. Starsky dived hungrily into his meal, while Hutch just played around with his. After they’d eaten, the partners decided to play a few games of pool before heading back to the station to try and make some sense out of their case.

In the Torino, Starsky looked over at Hutch. “Want to go back to my place and crash tonight, save time so we can start early in the morning?”

Hutch dared to sneak a peek at his partner. He knew Starsky was worried about him, but he couldn’t tell him what was troubling him not yet, not until he understood it himself. “Yeah, why not? I’ll probably be too tired to go all the way across town tonight.”

Starsky smiled and turned the key; deciding that he wasn’t letting Hutch out of his sight until Hutch had told him what was going on in that head of his..

Starsky and Hutch spent the rest of the afternoon going through files of old cases, in the hopes of trying to find a lead. But today wasn’t going to be their day, as once again they came up empty handed.

Surprised at seeing the time, Starsky shut his file and looked over “Come on, Hutch. It’s 7 o’clock, time we called it a night.”

At the end of a 13-hour day, the partners pulled up outside Starsky’s apartment and slowly dragged themselves out of the car. As they entered the living room, Starsky said, “Go get a shower. Freshen up. I’ll order us a pizza.”

“Yeah, okay. I could use one, thanks.” Hutch made his way to the bathroom, stripped down and turned on the water. After it was hot enough, he got under the spray, letting the warm water wash the dirt of the day away and soothe the aches out of his body. Feeling refreshed, he came out with a towel wrapped around his waist and headed to the bedroom where Starsky had left some clothes out. The pants were just slightly short but they would do for now.

“I’ve ordered the pizza; it’ll be here in 30 minutes,” Starsky called out. “I’m gonna take a shower. Pay the kid when he comes, will ya?”

Hutch smiled to himself. That was just like Starsky, to order food and leave Hutch to pay for it.

Looking down at himself Hutch called after his friend. “You know we are going to have to start leaving a change of clothes at each others for these occasions.”

As the water started running Hutch his partner reply. “Yeah that’s a great idea.”

* * *

The partners ate their supper in comfortable silence while watching some sports on TV. Starsky yawned loudly. “Okay, I’m ready for bed. How about you, Blintz?”

Hutch yawned as well. “Yeah, I think I'm about ready to hit the sack. I’ll get the couch made up.”

“If you want, you can share the bed. It’s big enough for two.”

Hutch froze for a second, then relaxed. I’m just being stupid. He smiled tiredly at his partner. “Okay.” Then, he went to brush his teeth. When he came into the bedroom, Starsky was already in bed. Hutch crossed to the other side, pulled back the covers and slipped between the cool, white sheets.

Starsky rolled over to look at his partner. “Goodnight partner. Sleep well.”

Hutch looked deeply into his partner’s eyes seemingly searching for something then answered. “Goodnight, Starsk.” He closed his eyes and was asleep within seconds.

* * *

They were awakened early the next morning by the ringing of the telephone. Starsky blindly reached over and grabbed the receiver off the hook. He snarled into the speaker, “This had better be good.”

The disembodied voice on the other end of the line simply said, “There’s been another one.” Starsky sat up straight. “Get down to the Queens Motel A.S.A.P.”

Starsky leaned over to where the blond was curled up, still sound asleep. Apparently, the phone had not disturbed him. “Wake up, Blondie,” he said softly. “There’s been another killing.”

Hutch shot up straight away, alert and ready. Starsky had always envied his partner’s ability to go from sound asleep to wide awake so quickly.

They got up and took turns showering. After dressing and a quick breakfast of coffee for Starsky and a health shake for Hutch, Starsky and Hutch were on their way. Both rode in silence, not daring to think what they would find at the crime scene.

* * *

The two detectives walked slowly into the motel room. It was much the same as the others had been: small, with a single bed, a wardrobe and a tiny bathroom. Hutch stood at the door, frozen in place for a moment. Then, he shook himself mentally and started walking round the room.

The scene was a hive of activity. The medical examiner and his team were there, as well as a photographer and a police office standing outside the door. The room was dimly lit, and the detectives could almost smell death in the air

Starsky shivered and walked to where Charlie was standing over the dead body.

“It’s the same M.O. as the rest. I hope you get this bastard soon,” the medical examiner said solemnly.

“So do we, Charlie.” Starsky turned and went to stand by Hutch. “That makes ... what? Four killed in the last two months? What’s his motive? Why is he doing this?”

Hutch just looked at his partner. His eyes were tired, and his shoulders slumped. Starsky stared back at him closely and decided that when this case was over he was going to take the blond on a trip to get some real rest. “Are you all right, Babe?” he asked his voice barely a whisper, concern etched on his face. “You look like you could use a vacation.”

“Yes, I’m fine. Just tired. It’s going to be a long day.”

Starsky smiled at him sympathetically and led Hutch outside into the sunlight. It was going to be another hot day, with no sign of the heat letting up and with no progress on the case. Hutch was right, Starsky reflected, it was going to be a long day.

They made their way to the Torino and climbed in. Hutch sat for awhile looking out the window. Then, very quietly, so that Starsky almost missed it, he asked, “Why, Starsk? Why did he do it? That poor girl was so young and pretty.”

“I don’t know, Hutch . . . but we’ll get him, okay? So, don’t worry ok.”

“Right. Back to the station then, to go through more files.”

* * *

Later that day, Starsky stretched and yawned loudly, much to Hutch’s amusement. “Maybe we’re going about this all wrong,” the brunet suggested.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, all the victims were in their teens, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Maybe it’s someone who was bullied.”

“But we checked . . . They didn’t go to the same school.”

“Who said anything about school or college?”

“Okay, now you’ve lost me, Starsk.”

Starsky looked at his friend “Never, ever want to lose you, Hutch.”

Hutch glanced around the bullpen, but it was empty. People talked about them enough. He peered back shyly at Starsky. “What do you say, we go to The Pits and see if Huggy’s got anything for us yet?”

“That sounds like a plan, Blintz; let’s go.”

Starsky and Hutch walked out of the station and over to the Torino.

“Okay, Starsk, so what’s your theory?”

“Well, think about it, Hutch. Our suspect’s grown up in a rough neighbourhood, and he gets picked on regularly by the other kids.” Starsky waved his arms about, trying to get his point across. “He thinks the whole world’s against him, and he’s messed up, y’know, up here.” He motioned to towards his head. “He’s messed up real bad.”

“But we’ve been over all the victims’ histories. They didn’t live in the same neighborhood.”

The partners got in the car, and Starsky started it up. As he pulled away from the curb, he continued to explain his idea. “What if he just thinks he sees these kids?”

Before Hutch could jump in, he went on. “What if up here . . .” he indicated his head again, “all those victims he sees their faces as those of the bullies from back in his childhood? From the streets where he was brought up. Just maybe he was one of them loners who grows up blaming the world for everything”

“Well, I don’t know, Starsk. It’s a long shot.”

“Do you have any other great ideas?” The brunet risked a quick glance at his partner. Then, he turned to watch the road again.

Hutch sighed and shook his head. “No, Starsk. I don’t have any ideas.”

They arrived at The Pits and entered the bar, heading toward their friend as soon as they spotted him. “Hi, Hug! Have you got anything for us?”

“Hay man now you can’t stay away from the bear?”

Spotting only one stool free, the little mischievous kid inside Starsky took over as he dashed to it and with a satisfied smile sat down,

Lucky for Hutch the drunk next to Starsky decided at that point to leave, so Hutch got to sit down as well.

“Give us a couple of Cokes, would ya, Huggy?”

“Sure thing, Starsk.” Huggy went to pour the two detectives sodas. “No luck, then?”

Starsky shook his head. “Nah, nothing. This bastard is good.”

“Well, I’ll keep trying; you know that.”

“Thanks, Huggy.”

The two detectives spent some time speaking quietly about the case before they finished their drinks and said goodbye to their friend.

“Okay, so where to now?” Hutch leaned against the Torino, placing his arms on the roof, and looked at Starsky.

“Let’s hit the streets and see if anyone knows anything.”

“So, if we go with your idea, how do we go about finding him?”

With a dramatic sigh, Starsky looked over at Hutch. “I don’t have a clue.”

* * *

Starsky drove them over to Fat Rolly’s establishment to see what he knew. Rolly was always a good source of information. As the two detectives walked into the little shop though Hutch noticed that the snitch’s face paled.

“Hey, Starsky! Hutch! What’re you doing here? I haven’t done nothing. Why don’t you leave me alone?”

Starsky slowly walked around the small shop, looking at the junk on the shelves, while Hutch went over to Rolly. “We’re looking for a nasty man, Rolly . . .”

Rolly shifted from foot to foot looking uncomfortable. Starsky saw this, and wandered over to where Hutch was standing. “You see, this man,” Starsky leaned over, placing his hands flat on the counter, “has a tendency to hurt vulnerable teens.”

“Look, I don’t know anything about that! I haven’t heard anything.” Rolly was starting sweat, and Hutch pressed his advantage, giving him a feral grin that showed his white teeth.

The detectives worked together like a well oiled machine both leaning in to invade the other man’s space. “Are you sure? You wouldn't be withholding information, would you?” Hutch snarled

“No, Hutch, no. I wouldn't do that.”

“Well if you do hear something, you will contact us, right?”

“Sure, Hutch; you know I will.”

With that assurance, the partners turned and left the shop.

“So now what do we do?”

“How ‘bout we go see our friend, Mickey?” Hutch glanced at Starsky.

“Okay.”

They got in the Torino and drove off.

* * *

Hutch easily spotted Mickey in the dimly lit bar. He was slumped in a booth, cradling a beer in his shaky hands. Tapping his partner on the shoulder and pointing Hutch said. “There he is.”

Starsky nodded, and they made their way over to the little man slowly, as if he might bolt which was a distinct possibility if Mickey saw them approach?

“Hiya, Mickey. What’cha doing?”

“Hi, Hutch. Starsky.”

The partners sat down in the booth, Starsky on one side and Hutch next to Mickey, effectively pinning him in. Hutch leaned into the snitch’s space. “What have you heard on the street about a nut slicing up teenagers?”

A waitress came over, and Starsky smiled up at her and ordered three beers. “Well?”

Mickey played with his drink and then swallowed the last of it.

“Well?” Starsky repeated in a low, menacing voice.

“I overheard these two men talking, see,” Mickey stopped and looked at the beer the waitress had just brought over. He licked his lips, rubbing his sweaty hands down his jacket. He reached for a beer, but Starsky moved it away.

“Go on . . .”

“Well, this guy he was saying weird stuff about how he’d make them all pay.”

“What did this man look like?”

Mickey licked his lips again and looked longingly at his beer. “Please, Starsky. Just a sip, please,” he begged.

Hutch tried to squash back down the feeling that threatened to stick in his throat and choke him, as he remembered Forest and being hooked on heroin the need that made his whole body ache and tremble same as Mickey now for drink.

Instead taking a deep breath he shook his famous “Hutchinson finger” at him. “Not until you give us a description.” Soon as the words had left his mouth Hutch regretted them, seeing the pain flash in Mickey’s eyes.

“Okay. Okay.” Mickey shifted in his seat; then he looked down, getting his thoughts in order. “He was about your height, Starsky.” The snitch gulped and continued. “He had dark hair, cut real stylish and short. Looked like his nose had been broke a few times, too.”

Mickey looked around, the partners could see how nervous he was. “Oh, and I noticed he had a limp. Yeah, that’s right; he limped.”

“That’s good, Mickey, real good. Which leg?”

“The left leg. Yeah, that’s it! The left leg.”

“Anything else you can think of to help?”

“He was dressed real sharp too sharp for the kind of bar he was in.”

“Okay, that’s great, Mickey. Thanks. Anything else, let us know. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay, Hutch.” Mickey looked over at Starsky, licked his lips and reached out a shaky hand. Starsky held the last beer out of reach for a while, grinning, before giving in and letting the desperate man have the liquid. Mickey grabbed the glass and took a long swallow.

As the duo made for the exit Hutch said “You didn’t have to tease Micky with that drink Starsky.”

“It was just a bit of fun, he was okay.”

“It’s not fun for him he needed that drink. I’m just saying we got what we wanted and you took it too far.”

“What’s eating at you Hutch?”

“Nothing, forget it.”

* * *

Outside the bar, Starsky turned to Hutch; “what was all that about in there?”

Hutch watched as realisation hit Starsky’s face. “Shit Hutch I didn’t . . .”

“Its okay Starsky, just drop it. Hutch was already regretting bringing the mess up again. He knew it cut Starsky deep as it did him.

Deciding to get them back on track Starsky asked. “What time is it?”

“You’ve got a watch. Why do you always ask me?”

“It’s quicker to ask you,” Starsky said, seeming pleased with his answer.

Hutch just rolled his eyes grateful to Starsky for dropping the topic; he pulled out his pocket watch and looked at the time. “It’s just past five, why?”

“Well, we just put in 11 hours. Let’s call in and log out for the night.”

“There’s nothing else we can do today. Sure, why not?”

They climbed into the Torino, and Hutch reached for the mike. “This is Zebra Three. Log us out for the day, would ya?”

“Roger, Zebra Three. Have a good night.”

“We will. Thanks, Mildred.” Hutch put the mike away, settled back in his seat and relaxed.

* * * **

“So, you got any plans for tonight?” Hutch asked.

Starsky looked over. “Nah, nothing. Wanna come over?”

“Sure, why not.”

“Great! We can order pizza, get some beers, watch the late film.”

Hutch smiled at his friend and closed his eyes. He always valued the time he spent with his partner. But just lately he had noticed it was changing from more then just brotherly and it scared him.

They pulled up outside of Starsky’s apartment and walked up the steps. Once they were inside, Starsky shut the door and locked it. Hutch looked around; then he shrugged, took his jacket off, undid his holster and removed his gun.

When Starsky had finished ordering a pizza, he turned to his partner. “You want to take a shower, buddy?”

“Yeah, sure. I could use one.” Hutch sniffed under his arm and made a face at the sweaty odor.

Starsky laughed and disappeared into the kitchen, while Hutch wandered into the bathroom and turned the water on. He stripped, adjusted the water and stepped into the shower. Letting the soothing current run over his body, Hutch lathered the soap in his hands and smoothed it over his chest, across his stomach and down to his penis. He rubbed over it slowly, the pleasurable sensation building as he grew between his own hands. He threw back his head, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. Suddenly, Hutch felt the world move, and he started to tremble. As the hot liquid spurted out, his knees buckled, and he reached over to steady himself against the shower tiles.

After a few moments, Hutch continued to scrub down his legs and back up again, letting the tension of the day wash down the drain. He shampooed his hair and rinsed off, then stepped out of the shower and wrapped himself in one of Starsky’s fluffy blue towels. He came out of the bathroom feeling relaxed and content.

* * *

“Did you enjoy your shower?”

“Yeah, thanks. It’s your turn,” Hutch called over his shoulder, as he disappeared into the bedroom in search of boxers and a robe.

When the pizza arrived, Hutch got some napkins for them to use as plates. Then, he sat down on the floor next to Starsky’s legs and enjoyed his food.

“So, what’s the movie tonight, Gordo?”

Starsky rubbed his hands together excitedly. “Well, it’s the ‘Attack of the Killer Ants’!”

Hutch coughed and spluttered on a piece of his food, his eyes watering he managed to say. “Oh, brother! Starsky, why do you like these corny films?”

Starsky tried to look hurt, but failed, as he looked down at his partner. “Oh, come on, Blintz. Lighten up, will ya.”

The two sat in comfortable ease, watching the film, sharing a few beers, and enjoying each other’s company. It was just past one o’clock when Hutch yawned and stretched. He looked around to discover that Starsky had fallen asleep sometime during the film.

He smiled and reached over to his friend. “Hey, it’s time to get some shuteye.”

Starsky stirred and peered at his partner with sleepy eyes. “Oh, sorry. I must have dropped off. How did the movie end? Did they get all the ants?”

Hutch chuckled. “Yes, Starsk, they got all the ants. Now, get up off the couch, go brush your teeth, and get ready for bed.”

Starsky stood up and made his way to the bathroom. “You’re sleeping in my bed again, Hutch. That couch is bad for your back. You’ll be all bent over and no good for work in the morning.”

Hutch stiffened hearing Starsky saying he was sharing his bed again he sat down and rubbed a hand over his eyes. He could do this; they had shared a bed before with no problems. But, then, he’d never had this feeling before. It was strange and frightening, and still very new to him. He was so tired, and this case was so bewildering: no leads, no suspect, no clues . . . nothing. Hutch was beginning to think they were after a ghost.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Hutch looked up to see Starsky kneeling in front of him, and he flushed slightly at being caught daydreaming. “Yeah, Starsk, just tired. It’s this case. It’s like we’re chasing a phantom.”

“Don’t worry. He’s flesh and blood, just like we are. And I promise you we will get him. Now, go brush your teeth, so we can get to bed.” Starsky wiggled his eyebrows suggestively up and down.

Hutch jumped up from the couch and walked quickly to the bathroom a little too quickly. And Starsky noticed. He smiled to himself. So Hutch feels the same. But Starsky knew nothing could be done about the situation while the unsolved case hung over them. So he kept silent and went to get ready for bed.

Hutch stood in the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. What was happening to him? He looked the same, but he was feeling things for his partner that he knew he shouldn’t be feeling. If Starsky ever found out, he would run away as fast as he could. Hutch knew he had to keep quiet and live with his secret buried deep in his soul. He sighed, brushed his teeth, and tiredly walked over to the bedroom area. Starsky was already tucked up in bed; Hutch went over to his side and slid between the sheets.

“Night, Hutch. See you in the morning.”

“Night, Gordo.”

Within a few minutes, both partners were asleep.

* * *

The sun shone through the window, right onto Hutch’s face. He stirred and slowly opened one eye. Instantly, he noticed he was curled around Starsky’s warm firm body. He froze for a minute and then relaxed, enjoying this bit of closeness. Almost immediately, though, he began to feel guilty for taking it from his partner. Starsky was unaware of Hutch’s changing feelings and would have kicked him out of his apartment if he knew.

Hutch gently moved away from his partner and got out of the bed. He went for his early morning run to get the frustration out of his system. When he returned, Starsky was in the kitchen, his hair dripping from the shower he must have taken while Hutch was running. Hutch also noticed that his friend was already dressed for the day, in a pair of the tightest jeans Hutch had ever seen, a white T-shirt and a black over-shirt.

“Mornin’, Blondie! Did you enjoy your run?”

Hutch stood transfixed for a while, then shook himself mentally.

“Yeah, cleared the cobwebs. I’m going to grab a quick shower, and then I’ll be with you.”

When Hutch had finished showering, he went straight to the bedroom to get ready. He quickly dressed himself in brown cords and a green T-shirt. Then, he brushed his hair and grabbed a quick coffee to start the day. “Okay, Starsk. Let’s get going before Dobey calls us in as missing.”

Starsky laughed and patted Hutch on the back. “Yeah, let’s get going.”

As they climbed into the Torino Hutch grabbed the mike. “Zebra Three logging in at 8:30.”

“Roger, Zebra Three. Have a good day!”

“Thanks, Mildred. You, too.” Hutch put the mike back and leaned into the passenger seat.

“Well, what do we do today?”

“I don’t know. Any suggestions?”

“I think we should go pick up Mickey and bring him to Metro, so the police artist can compose a sketch of our suspect. Then, at least we’ll have some pictures to pass out.”

“That’s a great idea! Let’s find Mickey.” Starsky made a U-turn and headed for the bar where the partners had found the snitch yesterday.

As they walked into the dimly lit bar and looked around, the detectives saw that several patrons were already drinking at that time of the morning, but Mickey was not one of them.

“Maybe it’s too early for Mickey . . .”

Hutch frowned at Starsky. “Starsk, this is Mickey we’re talking about here.”

“Yeah, okay. Well, let’s try the Blue Mountain then.”

* * *

They pulled up outside the small, dirty bar.

“I hate this part of the job,” Starsky groused. “The last time we went into this dump, I swear I itched for a week.”

Hutch smiled and put his arm around his partner’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Starsk. You can take another shower at the station.” He threw his head back and laughed at the indignant look on Starsky’s face.

Starsky shrugged his friend’s arm off as they entered the bar, grumbling under his breath, “I hate this job sometimes.”

Inside, the detectives slowly walked around, looking at the patrons. All of them were lifetime drinkers, their faces as worn as their clothes and their hands shaking while they cradled their glasses of precious liquid. But Mickey was not among them. He was turning out to be harder to find than Starsky and Hutch had thought.

They tried four more down-and-out bars before they struck gold.

“Hey, Mickey, we’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Starsky, I told you all I know. What more do you want outta me?”

“We want you to come down to the station to tell the police artist what you told us.”

“You want me to come downtown?” Mickey shook his head vigorously. “No, I’m not doing that!”

Hutch moved in on him. “Oh, but you will, Mickey, or I’ll be very, very angry. And you don’t want that, do you?”

The little snitch looked from Starsky to Hutch and back again. He wet his suddenly dry lips. “So what’s in it for me if I go downtown with you?”

Rolling his eyes, Starsky got out his wallet and waved a twenty in front of Mickey. The snitch reached to take it, but Starsky snatched back his hand. “Uh-uh, not until you do what we want.”

Hutch grabbed Mickey’s arm and pulled him from the booth. Together, the partners hustled him out to the Torino. Suddenly, Starsky stopped dead in his tracks, and Hutch nearly bumped into his partner. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, shit, Hutch! We should’ve used your car today.”

Hutch looked puzzled for moment; then realization dawned on him. “Oh. Mickey, do you promise not to mess up Starsky’s car? I mean, you won’t puke in it or anything?”

Starsky shot his friend a dirty look and turned to Mickey. “You sit in the corner and don’t move, don’t even breathe. God, my car will need fumigating before this day is out.”

They got into the car, and Hutch radioed the station, “Central, this is Zebra Three. Can you have a police artist ready? We’re bringing in a possible witness to get a sketch of our killer.”

“Roger, Zebra Three. Will do. Out.”

They drove to the station in silence. Starsky put his foot down, and they arrived in record time. Once inside Metro, the trio hurried down the corridor until they reached interrogation room 5.

Hutch opened the door and ushered Mickey in. “You sit down and wait.”

Starsky and Hutch left the snitch alone in the room, while they went to confer with their captain. They knocked gently on Dobey’s door, before entering the small office.

“Hi, Cap’n,” Hutch said. “We’ve got what we think might be an eyewitness with the killer’s description.”

“That’s good. About time you two got something,” Dobey huffed.

“Oh, come on, Cap. That’s not fair! We’ve been putting a lot of hours in, trying to track down this psycho.”

Dobey sighed and rubbed one chubby hand over his face. “I know, Hutch. It’s just that I’m getting a lot of heat from upstairs on this one.”

“Then we’d better get that description sorted out and hit the streets.” Starsky left the room to locate the police sketch artist.

He found Jim by the water cooler, with his colors and papers and charcoal pencil. “Hi, Jim. How’s the missus?”

“She’s fine, Starsk. How’s your other half doing?” Jim asked with a big grin on his face.

Starsky smiled. “He’s with the witness.” Hutch had rejoined Mickey after visiting with Dobey.

Jim burst out laughing. The exchange was a standing joke between them, and Starsky knew there was no malice in it. Together, the two men walked to room no. 5, where Hutch and Mickey were waiting.

“Hello, Jim!” Hutch greeted the newcomer, walking around the table to shake his hand.

“Hi, Hutch. You still keeping a tight leash on this partner of yours?” Jim winked at Hutch and laughed.

“Oh, yes, Jim. Can’t let him loose on the unsuspecting public.”

“Hey, you two! When you have quite finished . . .” Starsky said, frowning. “Can we get down to the business at hand?”

“Aw, Starsk. Don’t take it so seriously,”

Hutch put his arm round Starsky’s shoulder and absorbed his friend’s warmth. For a second, he was reluctant to let go, but he didn’t think they could both fit through the door, for a start. He chuckled to himself at the image of them trying to get through the doorway together. At the threshold, Hutch cleared his throat and told Jim they would leave Mickey in his capable hands, returning later in the day for the results.

Back at his desk, Starsky sat down. Hutch went over to the coffee machine to fetch a couple cups of warm coffee. Raising one mug to his lips, he made a face as he took a sip. He looked up in consternation at the other officers in the room. “Hey, you guys. Doesn’t anyone keep this coffee hot?”

His colleagues merely looked at one another dumbly, shrugged their shoulders, and went back to work.

“Never mind me,” Hutch muttered and returned to his desk, reaching over to give Starsky his own tepid cup. “Drink it fast; it’s almost cold already.”

Starsky looked up from the file he was holding and smiled when he reached for his coffee and his fingers brushed against his partner’s. The light contact sent bolts of electricity through his veins that he hadn’t expected. He shook himself mentally and took the coffee from Hutch; their eyes met and locked for a long moment of silent conversation.

Thanks, Blondie.

Any time. I’m always there for you. Even just to get your coffee.

They broke eye contact. Hutch smiled knowing this drove their captain crazy.

“So what do we do while Mickey is busy with Jim?” Starsky asked.

“Go through some more of these reports? There has just got to be something we’re missing.”

After Starsky and Hutch had spent a few hours looking through the files, Jim came into the room. “Okay, boys, I have your sketch. Mickey was pretty good at giving details. Hope it helps you get the sick bastard.”

“Let’s take a look, then.”

Starsky took the profile, and Hutch came around the table to peer over Starsky’s shoulder. What the detectives saw on the paper spooked them. It wasn’t so much the face of the man himself; he looked ordinary enough. Rather, it was his eyes. They were cold, dead . . . Evil.

The suspect had a smart, short haircut, and his clothing was stylish. But his nose looked like it had taken a beating a few times. It was easy to see that he had been a handsome man before his nose was rearranged.

They had a load of the suspects profile made up into wanted pictures and then Starsky grabbed a pile saying: “Well, let’s get Mickey and drop him off,” Then, we can start putting these pictures out on the street.”

They went and collected Mickey from the interrogation room before heading down to the station garage.

“We can use your car this afternoon, I think,” Starsky ventured.

“Okay, Starsk.”

The partners made their way to Hutch’s battered LTD, parked in the far corner of the lot. After they dropped Mickey off at his favorite bar, they headed over to The Pits to leave a few pictures for Huggy to hand out.

Huggy was wiping the bar top as they walked in. Since it was now late afternoon, most of the lunch crowd had left.

“Hi, Huggy. What’cha doin’?”

“Hi, bros! What can I do for you today?”

“We’ve got some posters. Can you put one up and pass a few out?”

“Sure thing, Starsky. Let’s see what you got.”

Hutch pulled out a poster and gave it to Huggy to look over. The barkeep went very pale, considering his natural coloring, and sat down heavily on a stool. Hutch was by his side in an instant.

“Huggy, what’s wrong?”

“Hey! Are you okay?”

“T-that m-man. He was in h-here three d-d-days ago.”

Starsky flashed a meaningful glance at Hutch, adrenalin pumping through his veins.

“He was here in this bar! Are you sure, Hug?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. He sat right over there.” Huggy pointed to the far booth.

“Well, we must be getting close then.”

Starsky wandered over to the booth. He didn’t expect to find any clues, but there was no harm in looking. Hutch joined him moments later, after attending to a shocked Huggy.

“Anything?”

“Nah, nothin’.”

Hutch sighed and crossed back over to Huggy. “Did you notice anything strange about him, Hug?”

“No, man. He was just an ordinary guy. Ordered a drink and went sat in that booth.”

“Did he talk to anyone?”

“Man, I was busy; I can’t pay attention to every customer.”

“Okay, I hear ya.”

Starsky glanced at his partner and sighed. “Hey, Hutch, let’s go pass some more of these pictures out.”

Hutch turned to look once more at Huggy. “Let us know if you hear anything or if he comes in again, won’t you?”

“Hutch, I’m offended you feel you even got to ask that, man.”

“Sorry, Hug. I know you will.” The partners left The Pits to hit the streets and show the picture around.

It was getting late, and the sun was starting to set. The partners had put the sketches out on the street. Now, it was just a waiting game.

As Starsky and Hutch sat in the LTD deciding their next move, the mike crackled to life: “All units! All units! Reports of a 2-11 in progress at the drugstore on 10th and Broadway. Suspects are armed and considered dangerous. Approach with extreme caution.”

Starsky glanced across at his partner and grabbed the mike. “Ten-four, Zebra Three responding.”

Hutch turned the ignition, and the battered car coughed to life. Starsky quickly stuck the mars on the roof. “Okay. Now, let’s see if this pile of junk will get us there!”

“There is nothing wrong with my car, Starsk!”

“Oh, come on, Hutch. What about the time . . .?” Starsky didn’t finish his sentence.

Hutch turned and glared at him. His eyes were flashing dangerously. In a very menacing voice, he snarled, “We don’t talk about that day . . . ever!” Hutch pulled away from the curb.

“Sorry, Blintz, it’s just that….” The brunet peered over at Hutch with a twinkle in his dark blue eyes and a sly grin on his face. He loved to tease his friend about his car.

Hutch growled from somewhere deep in his throat and leaned over the steering wheel, his body language communicating his unease about the subject. “I said, quit it. Now!”

Starsky glanced at Hutch, sensing he’d gone too far. He flashed a sheepish grin and shrugged, but didn’t say another word. He just sat back, looking out the window; his mother hadn’t raised a fool.

Hutch manoeuvred the car around a corner. It protested loudly but managed the turn. Starsky flinched at the sound, yet stayed silent. He knew better than to get on the wrong side of his partner when he was in one of his moods.

The two detectives were the first to arrive at the scene. Inside the drugstore, three men wearing ski masks were holding five hostages at gunpoint. Starsky and Hutch got out of the car and knelt beside it.

Starsky glanced at his partner; dark blue eyes met light blue ones and locked in silent communication, as they acknowledged another dangerous call.

Be careful!

You, too.

They made plans to end the situation safely.

“Okay, how do you want to handle this?” Starsky asked out loud.

“Well, we can’t go straight in. That would endanger the hostages. So, I think one of us should talk to the gunmen while the other goes around to the back.”

“Sounds like a plan. Who goes in the back?”

“I do.”

“Why you?”

’Cos I thought of it.”

“Tell ya what. Toss for it.”

Hutch sighed heavily, “Starsk, we’re wasting time. We’ll lose the element of surprise.”

Busy trying to get money from the register, the hold-up men in the store hadn’t seen the detectives yet. Staying low, Starsky flipped a coin, and Hutch caught it. “Heads I win. Now, start talking.”

Several squad cars rounded the corner, and Starsky turned to see. He looked back just in time to watch his partner disappear behind the building. He cursed to himself, Blond idiot; always the white knight. Going to have a chat with him! Then, he took a deep breath, calmed himself and focused on getting the bad guys’ attention. Hutch was going to be in position soon, and Starsky didn’t want them seeing his friend too early.

“Okay, let’s talk!” he called out. “No one wants to get hurt; so why don’t you just give yourselves up? You’re surrounded.”

“No way, pig. We’re gonna leave here with a hostage. We want a car brought ’round to the front, or I’ll blow her fucking head clean off!”

One of the hold-up men gave an evil chuckle; Starsky rolled his eyes. For once, why can’t the bad guys just give up? Aloud, he said. “Ain’t going to happen.”

Two squad cars pulled up to the curb, and the officers got out, awaiting instructions. Starsky walked over and informed them what was going down.

“Hutch is makin’ his way around the back. We have to distract ’em long enough to give him time to get into position.”

Hutch edged over to the back entrance, sweat running down his back and making his shirt stick uncomfortably to his skin. Once inside the store, he moved quickly and quietly to the corner aisle. A frightened little girl was kneeling nearby; she saw him and started to react. Panicking slightly at the thought that she might give him away, Hutch put a finger to his lips to silence her and then flashed her a smile.

He crawled closer to the first gunman, praying he wouldn’t turn around before he got into position. The weasel was standing alone at the back of the shop. Hutch timed his move quickly and effectively, taking the man out and then cuffing him to a nearby pole. Okay, Hutchinson. Now, it’s only two against one.
Starsky was distracting the other would-be robbers; so they hadn’t noticed yet that a man was missing. Hutch could hear the reassuring sound of his partner’s voice, urging the gunmen to surrender.

Suddenly, the biggest of the three men whirled around and started shouting the missing man’s name, “John! John! Where in the hell are you?”

The big man turned again and spotted Hutch. He curled his lip into an ugly snarl and spat, “Dirty pig! I’ll fucking waste you and all these fucking hostages.” He swung his gun in line to fire at the little girl who had noticed Hutch earlier, covering both her and her mother.

Hutch stood up from where he had been hiding behind a stack of boxers. Taking aim; he fired the Magnum hitting the big man with a bullet to the shoulder. Blood splattered and then oozed from the fresh wound. The injured man screamed and dropped his gun, which landed safely under some shelves.

The third hold-up man turned, getting off a few shots; it all happen so fast and, luckily for Hutch, the shots ricocheted astray.

Hutch shouted, “Freeze, police! Drop your weapon!” The criminal looked around in panic for his friend. Then, seeing he was alone, he dropped his gun and raised his hands.

Starsky was just about to try a different tack, when he heard the familiar boom of his partner’s Magnum, followed by return fire from a smaller-caliber gun.

Leaping to his feet, Starsky rushed in, not thinking of the hostages or the armed men. He had only one thought: Hutch. He had to make sure his friend was okay.

With backup close on his heels, Starsky barged through the door, gun in hand, shouting, “HUTCH!” But he skidded to a halt when he saw his partner safely crouching over the wounded robber and pressing his hand against the man’s shoulder.

“We need an ambulance over here,” yelled Hutch.

While a young officer scurried away to radio in, Starsky scanned the area. One of the villains was still lying face down with his hands behind his head. The brunet quickly went over and cuffed him.

Starsky let out in a long sigh the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. As he walked over to join his partner, he could feel himself shaking from the adrenaline still rushing through his veins. “You okay, Blintz? You scared the shit out of me!”

Starsky looked around, remembering there had originally been three bad guys. “Where’s the third one?”

Hutch nodded towards the back of the store, where the last gunman was still out cold. “What took you so long, Starsk?” Hutch asked with a warm smile in his voice and love in his eyes.

The little girl Hutch had saved chose that moment to come running up and throw her tiny arms around the blond detective’s neck. “Fank you for saving my mommy and me!” she exclaimed.

Blushing, Hutch said, “Aw, you’re welcome, princess.”

The girl gave him a big kiss on the cheek and ran back to her mother where a police officer was waiting to help them out of the shop.

With a cheeky smile, Starsky laid his arm across Hutch’s shoulder, feeling he could relax now that the danger was over. “Well, if you’re finished, white knight, should we blow this joint? Get back to the office and write up our reports, so we can go home?”

Hutch felt the heat in his face Starsky laughed. As they made their way back to Hutch’s car, Starsky had a sudden thought. “Hey, Blondie! You cheated.”

“I what?!”

“You cheated.”

“Care to explain that, Gordo.”

“The coin it was tails! You cheated.”

“You didn’t see it. How’d you know it was tails?”

It was Starsky turn too blush, realizing he’d let it slip that he’d used a trick coin. Hutch just rolled his eyes and walked around to open the driver’s side door.

* * *

At the station, Starsky and Hutch went through the process of writing up the reports for the robbery and booking the two suspects. The third would have to wait until he was released from the hospital. They also needed to see their captain about a new development in their murder case. Starsky knocked on Dobey’s office door, and the detectives waited to hear the familiar voice.

“Come in.”

Starsky and Hutch entered the office. “Hi, Cap’n. We put those police sketches out on the street and gave some to Huggy to pass around. Thing is….” Starsky paced the small office and then came to a stop next to his partner.

Hutch just sat passively, letting Starsky give the verbal report to their boss. Dobey also waited patiently.

“The thing is,” Starsky continued, “Huggy took one look at our suspect and said he’d been in The Pits the other night. He was actually in The Pits. God! We were that close to catching this whacko!” Starsky started pacing again. “If he goes back in, we’ll have him, Cap’n.”

Dobey sat back heavily in his chair, looking tired and every bit his age. Recently, his hair had started to show streaks of gray, and there was gray on his five o’clock shadow. With a weary sigh, he muttered, “Well that’s a lead; more than you had a few days ago. Let’s hope we get him before he kills anyone else.”

Hutch finally leaned forward in his chair. “We’ve also finished the reports on the 2-11, Cap.”

“Okay. Go on; get out of here. And I want you back at eight sharp.”

“Yes, sir.” Starsky turned on his heel, grabbed his partner’s arm and sped from the office, glad to be able to finally call it a day.

* * *

“Do you mind if we go to my place tonight, Starsk? I have to water my plants and check my mail.”

“Sure, Blintz.”

They pulled up outside of Venice Place. Both men got out of the car and made their way up the steps. As they reached the landing, Hutch slung his arm around his friend’s shoulder. “Are you hungry?”

“Sure. What’ve you got in mind?”

“Got a couple of steaks in the fridge.”

Starsky rubbed his hands together excitedly. “I’m ravenous.”

With an affectionate smile and twinkle in his eye, Hutch turned to his partner. “Gordo, you’re always hungry!”

“Hey, I’m not always hungry,” the brunet protested while pretending to pout. But he couldn’t keep it up; he was too happy and content. “I haven’t eaten much today an’ neither have you.”

“Well, I’ll boil some potatoes to go with the steak.”

“Can’t wait. Love your cooking.”

Inside, Starsky and Hutch soon settled into their regular routine. Hutch prepared the potatoes and steaks, while Starsky made a side salad and chilled a bottle of wine he’d found in Hutch’s cupboard when looking for something to eat before dinner.

“Right. While we wait for the food, go grab a shower, while I water my plants.”

“Okay.”

As Hutch tended his plants, he let his mind wonder. It all started when I thought I’d lost him six months ago; when he took that bullet to the shoulder. How many more times will we be lucky? How many more close calls, Starsk, before it’s our time? God, what would I do if I lost you? I know my life would be over.

Hutch quietly sighed and refilled his watering can. He could hear Starsky singing to himself; his friend sounded very happy. Hutch smiled to himself. For now, at least, Starsky was safe with him. He thought about the water running over Starsky’s body his skin slick with soap. Hutch groaned; as he felt himself getting hard he mentally shook himself; this was not the time!

But would he ever dare tell Starsky how he was feeling? No, Starsky would deck him if he knew. Or maybe not. A polite refusal? Yes! That’s what Starsky would do. He wouldn’t feel threatened by Hutch, and the blond would never put his friend in a situation where he would feel threatened. Starsky was a real ladies’ man; he had a different woman every week. Yes, Starsky really loved the ladies, so how could Hutch possibly compete with them? Oh, Starsk, if you only knew….

The aroma of steaks filled the kitchen. Starsky emerged from the shower, a towel loosely wrapped round his slim waist and one rubbing his curly hair dry. A muffled voice informed Hutch it was his turn to wash up.

* * *

“This is terrific!” Starsky managed to get out around a mouthful of steak. Hutch gave him a shy smile, and then looked away, coughing to clear his throat. His emotions were too close to the surface lately and to his shame his cock was still tingling and stood at half-mast after his earlier thoughts had run away with him the shower had not helped relieve his excitement. It was silly, really. He felt like a teenager again, acting awkward around someone special. Hutch quickly tried to divert his perceptive friend. “What’s the plan for tonight, then?”

“I thought maybe a game of Monopoly.”

“Sounds good. You get the board, and I’ll refill our drinks.”

Halfway through the game Hutch’s phone rang. Reaching over Hutch spoke into the receiver, “Yeah, speak too me.”

“Is that anyway to answer a phone, Hutchinson?” a familiar voice boomed. Hutch felt himself blush all over again. Damn, he was getting fed up with this. “Anyway,” his captain’s voice continued before Hutch could reply, “there’s been another murder at the Nutcracker Motel. Get over there fast!”

Hutch turned to his friend, “Starsk, there’s been another killing!”

The brunet glanced up from the move he had just completed, the smile he’d been wearing all evening instantly gone. “Damn! That bastard! What the hell’s wrong with this guy?”

Frustrated, Starsky jumped up and paced the floor, waving his arms around. He’d been hoping they’d get lucky and find the killer before he could strike again.

“I don’t know, Starsk, but we won’t learn anything sitting here.”

Both of them had showered and were wearing robes, Hutch dashed into the bedroom to put on some suitable work clothing. Starsky followed Hutch asking.

“Hey Hutch can I borrow a t-shirt? I can use the pants but not the top.”

Chucking a clean t-shirt at him Hutch said. “Sure thing buddy anything I have is yours.”

Once both men were ready Starsky grabbed both their jackets. He threw Hutch his. and he caught it without effort and both went out of the door.
OK here Starsky asksd to borrow clothes but when Hutch is at Starsky’s place he seems to keep half his wardrobe there – I think you need to find a way of explaining how Hutch has clothes at S’s place (they keep a few things in each other’s apts for emergencies….something like that.)
* * *

When Starsky and Hutch arrived at the Nutcracker Motel, they found Charlie and the crew already at work there. The partners flashed their badges at the young officer by the door and walked into the room. The pale illumination from a single light gave the place a eerie feel. The wallpaper was a faded brown studded with cigarette burns. The bed was unmade and the closed curtains had holes in the dark brown fabric. Half the room was cast in a dark shadow. The whole scene gave Starsky and Hutch goose bumps, causing them both to shiver.

It was, Hutch’s turn to speak to the medical examiner. “Okay, Charlie, what can you tell us?”

“Well, it seems your killer is getting bored; he’s changed the rules of the game. That, or he has just made his first mistake!”

“Explain?”

“This poor boy wasn’t on the bed; we found him in the bathroom.” Charlie rubbed a hand over his tired face. “There was one hell of a mess this time: blood’s splattered all over the walls.”

“Could it be someone was trying to do a copycat killing and messed up?”

“I don’t think so…’course it’s always a possibility. The story’s been on the news, and there are a lot of lunatics out there.”

“Or maybe this boy wasn’t quite as dead as our killer thought,” Hutch ventured.

“Possibly.”

“Did he pull himself in the bathroom? And if so, why?”

“That’s your job. You’re the detective.”

“Gee . . . Thanks, Charlie, you’re all heart. You know that?”

“So I’ve been told, Hutch.” Charlie patted Hutch on the arm, giving him a tired smile. The blond simply nodded and went to locate his partner.

Starsky was searching the bathroom where the boy had been found. As he walked around the small, dirty room, his stomach lurched at the stench and at the large quantity of blood.

“You find anything in here?” Hutch asked, putting one hand on his partner’s shoulder and leaning in to feel Starsky’s body heat. It made him feel a little better and helped relieve some of the tension of being in that depressing dump, trying to find clues to catch a killer.

Just as Starsky was about to answer, Hutch saw something out the corner of his eye. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“That! It looks like a necklace.”

Starsky walked over to the area his partner was pointing to and bent down. “Someone give me a bag and a pen, now!” He looked up at his friend. “You’ve got good eyes, Hutch. Think maybe it belongs to our killer or the victim?”

“Let’s hope it’s our killer’s and that this is our opening.”

Starsky felt a chill run down his spine. God! What a place to spend your last moments on earth. He would be glad to get out of there.

The curly haired detective gathered up the necklace, careful not to leave fingerprints, and put it in an evidence bag. He handed the packet to Charlie, and then turned to regard his partner again. “You all done in here?”

“Yeah, I’m finished.”

"Then can we get out of here?” Starsky whined. “This place gives me the heebie-jeebies.” He shook himself.

Seconds later, the two detectives left the motel and made their back to Hutch’s car.

It was past two o’clock when the two exhausted men finally made it back to Venice Place. Reaching above the tall, brown door, Hutch retrieved his key. Starsky was watching his friend closely, and he thought it was about time that he spoke up about where Hutch kept his key. He had never liked the idea of his friend storing it in such an obvious place.

Taking a deep breath, he spoke with conviction, “Y’know, that’s a stupid place to put your key! Might as well leave an invitation for the criminals to make themselves at home.” Then, standing back, he waited for the explosion, but it never came.

Hutch merely replied in a tired voice, “Don’t start.”

After entering the apartment, Hutch locked the door and flicked the lights on, illuminating the room. He tossed his key on the table, and the noise it made echoed around the small apartment. Dragging his tired body into the middle of the room, Hutch turned to his partner. After a long, drawn-out yawn, he spoke, “I think we need a vacation.”

“Yeah, we do,” Starsky replied, throwing a concerned look towards his friend. Hutch didn’t notice as he slowly retreated to the bathroom.

Standing before the mirror staring at his refection, Hutch thought his normally bright blue eyes had lost their sparkle. Sighing, he stripped to his boxers and T-shirt; then he made his way over to where his friend sat. Starsky looked just as tired and pale sitting there, and Hutch couldn’t resist running his hands through the tight, chocolate-colored curls or maybe he was just too worn out too care about any possible repercussions.

Smiling, the blond leaned over his partner, softly saying. “Your turn, Gordo.” Then, he wearily walked over to the bedroom, making his way to the bed just in time to fall onto it. He sank gratefully into the softness and was soon fast asleep.

Starsky followed his friend, feeling a sudden heat flash through him. He pulled the bed covers up around Hutch’s shoulders, pausing to gently ruffle the blond locks. “Night, Blintz.,” he whispered. His only answer, though, was a soft snore.

Starsky looked down at his partner for a moment; then, shrugging, he decided, what the hell! After all, they had done it loads of times. He stripped down to his boxers and T-shirt before slipping between the sheets next to his partner. Starsky wrapped a protective arm around his friend. Hutch unconsciously snuggled back into the embrace, and closing his eyes, Starsky quickly drifted off.

**************************

Starsky’s bladder woke him early the next morning. He gently untangled himself from his partner, who had somehow turned into a human octopus during the night. Stumbling blindly into the bathroom, Starsky relieved himself, before casting a glance at the welcoming sight of the shower. He freshened up for the day, emerging a half hour later from the steamy room feeling much more alive. Then, he quietly went about making a fresh, strong pot of coffee before going to wake his friend.

Strolling to the sleeping area, Starsky sat on the edge of the double bed. Hutch hadn’t stirred since falling into bed the night before. Sitting and gazing for a moment at his partner, Starsky let his thoughts drift back to another time and place. He looked just like a little boy lying there, Starsky recalled. But then he was trapped behind glass, unable to be touched. Shivering at the memory of yet another close call, Starsky leaned down and whispered into one sleep-warm, exposed ear, “Rise and shine, sweetheart.”

Hutch stirred, his eyelashes fluttering in that endearing way Starsky loved. He pried one bloodshot eye open to peer at his friend and then burrowed back under the covers to try and move away from his annoying partner. But he failed miserably. Starsky simply pulled the covers down and stroked the golden strands of the blond’s hair. Hutch made a slight sound not unlike a cat’s purring before he sleepily breathed, “Go away,” and pulled the blanket over his head.

Smiling to himself, Starsky coughed, glad for a distraction from his own emotions. He wasn’t ready yet to reveal his secret to Hutch, even though he now knew his partner shared his feelings. In a husky voice, he stated, “No you don’t, Blondie. Come on! Get outta bed and into the shower, or we’re gonna be late for work.”

Standing up, the brunet made his way to the end of the bed, grabbed the ends of the blanket and firmly pulled the covers off his friend. Hutch shot up, glaring at his partner. He immediately snatched the pillow from behind him, but Starsky managed to duck the fluffy missile when Hutch threw it.

“Why you rotten son of a…!”

“Shame on you!” Starsky cut off his partner’s tirade.

Hutch’s eyes flashed back anger.

“C’mon,” Starsky persisted. “It’s crime-busting time. Now, get your ass up and into the shower.”

Falling out off bed, Hutch asked, “Why are you so damn cheerful this morning?”

“Well, if ya’d eat decent meals and not all that rabbit food, you would have more energy. Y’know, something like pizza, chili dogs….” Starsky flashed his friend a big, toothy grin.

“How can anyone possibly eat that and not die of food poisoning?”

“Go grab a shower, or we will be late.” Starsky left Hutch to get ready and headed to the kitchen.

Hutch quickly obeyed his partner’s order, taking a shower and dressing for another day on the streets. The partners gulped down their coffee and then headed out the door. While Hutch pocketed his key, he noticed the smile plastered on his friend’s face. “What’s got you so happy?”

“Nothin’. Just glad to see you’re listening to me ’bout your key.”

“Yeah…well don’t let it go to your head, Gordo; I was thinking about stopping that habit anyway.” The brilliant smile Hutch flashed his friend took the sting out of his words.

The partners made their way across the street to Hutch’s broken-down LTD. As the blond opened his door, the battered car squeaked its protest, making Starsky wince. He leaned his arms on the roof of the vehicle and simply said, “When we get to the station, we’re gonna swap cars and use mine.”

“Oh, no! Not that striped tomato, please.”

“What did you call my car?”

“It’s a striped tomato, and…” Hutch pointed his finger at his friend, “the suspension on that thing makes it feel like we’re driving in a washing machine. It’s a wonder I haven’t been sick.”

“A washing machine! A washing machine!!” Starsky squeaked. “Well, least mine works. When’s the last time ya’ washed this thing; it’s embarrassing.”

“Get, in the car, Starsky.” Hutch started up the LTD and was exceedingly happy when she came to life straightaway. He pulled the car away from the curb, and the two detectives headed towards work.

“See what I mean. We’ll be lucky to get there this morning.”

“'Starsk?”

“I mean . . . Can’t you get a new car?’

“Starsky.”

“Or at least wash this one, huh?”

“STARSKY!'”

Arriving 15 minutes late, the detectives entered the quieter-than-normal squad room. They had just settled into their chairs when the door to Dobey’s office suddenly flew open. The familiar voice of their captain roared across the empty room, “Starsky! Hutchinson! My office, now!!”

The door shut again just as suddenly, leaving the partners feeling bewildered. What, the hell did we do this time?

Hutch simply shrugged. He rose from his chair and pushed it backwards, causing it to scrape noisily in the quiet room. He then made his way over to the coffee machine to grab a cup of what Metro laughingly called coffee. Holding up a mug, he asked his partner a silent question. Starsky just shook his head in answer.

The two detectives knocked before entering their captain’s small office. Hutch took the chair in front of the desk, while Starsky sat on the armrest, ignoring the unused chair next to it. He sat so close to his partner that their legs brushed together. After a moment, the brunet leaned over to take the cup of coffee from his partner’s hand. Swallowing some of the bitter, lukewarm liquid, he smoothly returned the cup to his friend.

“Yuck. That stuff’s almost cold.”

“I know, but it’s drinkable.”

“Not by much.”

“Well, it’s not yours, Gordo?”

“Never stopped me before.” Starsky grinned mischievously.

“That’s true,” Hutch replied with a grin of his own.

A loud cough, followed by a thunderous voice, shocked the duo into silence. Two sets of blue eyes snapped towards the captain.

“When you two are quite finished, I want to know what’s happening on this case.”

Starsky started to reply but then shot a frown at his boss as he carried on. “I’m getting a lot of heat from the commissioner. He wants this case wrapped up watertight. So, get out there, lean on your snitches, do whatever it is you do, and get me results now!”

“Yes, sir. C’mon.” Starsky motioned for Hutch to follow. “Let’s see if the autopsy report’s back?” Hutch pulled himself up and followed his partner out of the office.

Reaching the safety off his own desk, Starsky peered over at his friend, leaning in with his shoulders hunched up. “That went well. Wonder why he’s in such a bad mood today.”

“Can you blame him? We haven’t found any new leads.”

“Not our fault. This guy’s good at what he does.”

“I know, but we’re good at what we do, too. We’ll get him.”

Reading through the autopsy report was depressing. And, unfortunately, it held no new information on the murders. Starsky glanced at his friend to ask a question and saw the frustration etched on Hutch’s face and he knew his own face mirrored it. Sighing heavily, he asked. “How ’bout we go pay our respects too…er, what was the family’s name?”

Flicking through the file, Hutch replied, “Jenkins?”

“Yeah, that’s it: Jenkins. Maybe the mother can give us something new, like if that necklace we found at the crime scene was his.”

Hutch rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, there’s nothing more we can do here.”

**************************

The two detectives drove to the Jenkins family home in silence, each lost in his thoughts.

Starsky, it hurts so badly deep down in my soul, Hutch mused. What I would do to be able to hold you and love you! He sadly peered at his friend from under his lashes. Seeing Starsky watching him, he blushed and faced the road again.

Starsky merely smiled to himself. Soon, babe, we’ll have this case closed. Then, you’re mine, sweetheart.

After parking the LTD, Starsky and Hutch made their way up the long path to the Jenkins house. It was an ordinary home, painted brown, with colorful flowers bordering the lush, green lawn. Hutch sneezed violently as the flowers triggered his allergies.

“Bless you!”

“Thanks,” Hutch replied, sniffing.

The brunet knocked on the door. Standing back to wait, the two detectives soon heard some movement from within the house; then the door opened. In the doorway stood a woman about 50 years old and slightly built, with long, brown hair laced with silver. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot from crying. She was dressed all in black, and when she spoke, her voice trembled. “Can I help you, gentlemen?”

Starsky coughed to clear his throat; he really hated his job at times.

“We’re sorry…uh, to have to intrude on your grieving, ma’am. I’m Detective David Starsky. This is Detective Ken Hutchinson, my partner.” The detectives showed the woman their badges. “We need to ask you some questions. May we come in?”

“Yes, of course.” The woman allowed the partners into her home, showing them into a small, brightly painted room. The furniture was old but well maintained and clean. Numerous photos decorated the walls, most of them of the young victim, Simon.

Starsky walked around the room, glancing at the pictures and smiling sadly as he looked at the innocent face of the youth whose life had been snatched away so cruelly. He turned towards the woman. “We won’t keep you. It’s just…well, we found something near your son’s body, and we need to find out if it belonged to Simon, so we can eliminate it as evidence.”

Remembering her manners, the woman showed the partners to the couch. “May I offer you a drink?”

Hutch sat down and, leaning forward, took the woman’s trembling hand in his. “No thank you, Mrs. Jenkins. We wouldn’t have bothered you at all, but we’re trying to find the person that did this to your son. Anything that you know might help us.”

“If I can help, detectives, I will.”

“We found a necklace, a silver crucifix. Did Simon have anything like that?”

Simon’s mother softly wept before composing herself. “No, no, Simon doesn’t…” shaking, she corrected herself. “I mean, didn’t like jewellery; he hated anything like that. Why would anyone do this to my boy? He was only eighteen.”

Starsky glanced at Hutch. Their eyes met and locked, the partners drawing strength from each other. But they had no answers for the grieving woman.

Gently, Hutch said, “We don’t know yet, ma’am, but we’re doing everything in our power to find the person responsible and put him away where he can’t hurt anyone else.”

“Do you have any idea why Simon would have been in that neighbourhood or that motel?” Starsky asked.

Mrs. Jenkins rose to her feet, pulling herself to her full 5-foot, 4-inch height. “I’m sorry, detectives. I really can’t help. I have no idea why he was there.” Swallowing back more tears, she continued, “He certainly didn’t know anyone from that part of town that I’m aware of. I’m really sorry I can’t help you more.”

Hutch rose, putting his strong, comforting arms gently around the woman. “That’s okay. You’ve been a big help.”

Mrs. Jenkins wiped her eyes again and melted into his arms. Fresh tears began to fall, as she asked, “Is that all? It’s been a long day, and I’m tired.” She pulled away from Hutch and showed the partners to the door.

“Yes, of course, and please accept our condolences again.”

******************************

Back in the sanctuary of the Torino, Starsky sighed, slowly letting out a breath he had been holding. “ glad that’s outta the way. That poor woman!”

“I know. Makes you wonder ’bout the world we live in.”

“Yeah. Well, I think this world stinks sometimes.”

“You’ll get no argument from me, partner.”

Hutch reached over to squeeze Starsky’s shoulder and gently rub the nape of his neck. Relaxing into his friend’s touch, the brunet whispered, “Oh that feels good.”

Hutch can be so gentle, yet so deadly to any villain…. Pulling himself together, Starsky moved away from his partner’s hand. Just for a moment, he thought he saw hurt and then sadness pass through Hutch’s eyes, but the blond closed off his expression before he could be sure.

“Okay, so wha. . .!” Starsky never finished, as the radio crackled to life, “All units, reports of a disturbance at the shopping mall on 6th and Western.”

Hutch glanced at his partner and said, “That’s not far from here.” Then, he reached for the mike. “Zebra Three, responding.”

Putting the mike back in its holder, Hutch braced himself to keep from sliding onto Starsky’s lap, as the brunet gunned the Torino to life and swerved it out into the street. The partners passed most of the trip in silence, anticipating the action ahead. But when they turned the last corner and got their first glimpse of the disturbance, the duo stared dumbfounded, unwilling to trust their own eyes. Things like this just didn’t happen in Bay City!

In the middle of the street stood two men; not an extraordinary event in itself, but these two were disguised as clowns. One was short, with a stocky build; the other was tall and athletic. Both were dressed very brightly in big, baggy coats and pants three sizes too large held up by suspenders. Finishing off their outrageous attire were two pairs of big, floppy shoes. Even the men’s faces were colorfully painted and sported shiny, red noses. But most absurd of all was that the two men were vehemently arguing, their voices rising as their tempers grew.

Starsky and Hutch just stared at each other in wide-eyed astonishment.

After several moments, the shock wore off, and the two friends threw their heads back and laughed. Hutch glanced at Starsky, tears streaming down his reddened face; his partner was in no better shape than he was.

Having worked the streets of Bay City for more than nine years, Starsky and Hutch thought their beat could hold no new surprises. But as they stared at the scene unfolding in front of them, the partners now knew the streets could still yield a surprise or two.

Struggling to catch his breath, Hutch managed to fight through a bout of laughter. “Think we need our shades for this one?”

Starsky leaned over, gasping as he tried to pull more air into his desperate lungs. He swiped the tears from his eyes and squeaked out, “Yep! I think these two shop where Huggy does.”

Starsky and Hutch quickly pulled themselves together. Wiping away more tears and taking a few deep breaths, the partners climbed out of the Torino. But they were still struggling with their facial expressions, as they made their way over to check out the disturbance.

Starsky headed toward the nearest clown, while Hutch stood back, ever vigilant for danger.

The brunet struggled to get his voice back under control before speaking. He was very proud of himself when he managed to ask without sniggering: “Okay, sir. Can you tell me your name?”

“Sure, officer,” the man said eagerly. “My name is Ben, Ben Whitens.”

Turning to the next clown, Starsky asked, “And what’s your name, sir?” Unfortunately, the detective failed miserably this time at keeping the chuckle from his voice. He could feel Hutch’s eyes burning through his back, and he felt just like a little kid trying not to be caught laughing in class.

“It’s James Bradford, sir,” the other man nervously answered.

Nodding his acceptance, Starsky turned his attention back to Ben. “Okay, Mr. Whitens, can you please tell me what’s going on here?”

“Sure, officer. He…” Ben paused, pointing to the spot where James Bradford stood. “He stole my place. I always stand right here advertising when we come to town; it’s the best spot, you know.”

Starsky and Hutch glanced at each other, trying hard to suppress another laugh. Ben noted this subtle communication between the partners and shifted his gaze back and forth between them. Then, he suddenly became very agitated, raising his voice and waving his arms about. “Oh, I know. You don’t think this is important; it’s one big joke. But it’s serious business for us. It’s our livelihood!”

Starsky coughed to clear his throat, before stepping forward to take the matter back in hand by trying to calm the man down. “I’m sure it is, sir. I love the circus myself. But you’re causing a public nuisance here. So, you see, you two need to sort this out quickly and quietly.”

Hutch had been patiently waiting on the sidelines, ready to back his partner’s play if needed. Now, he could hold himself back no longer. Seeing no danger likely to befall Starsky, Hutch allowed a mischievous gleam to suddenly materialize in his crystal blue eyes. Then, a sly smile slowly crept over his handsome face. “Aw, c’mon, you two! Stop clowning around,” he drawled and burst out laughing as if he had just told the world’s funniest joke.

The trio groaned out loud at Hutch’s bad attempt at humour. Starsky suppressed his own smile and rolled his eyes instead. Secretly, he loved it when his normally reserved partner let loose for a while. It didn’t happen often enough in his book, although he would never let his friend know that. So, he simply winced and moaned, “Hutch…where do you get your jokes from?”

Hutch opened his mouth to answer, but Starsky quickly raised his hands, cutting off any retort he might have come up with. Wearing a smug smile, the brunet carried on, “On second thought, don’t tell me. I don’t think I wanna know.” He then strutted over to stand between Ben and James.

Pleased with himself, Starsky asked the two men, “Okay, gentlemen. Can I rely on you two to sort this out nicely before my partner over there cracks another bad joke?” He winked at Hutch, causing the fair-skinned man to blush. Starsky’s smile broadened at the reaction. His favorite pastime these days was making Hutch blush, and it was just so easy to do.

Ben and James turned toward each other and eagerly nodded. At their swift acquiescence, Hutch frowned at Starsky, trying desperately to act hurt and failing miserably. He just couldn’t keep up the pretence, and his face broke into a
wide grin.

The detectives watched in astonishment as the two clowns quickly sorted out their differences. Slinging their arms around each other’s shoulders, the costumed pair moved on.

As the partners were making their way back to the car, Starsky suddenly snapped his fingers and whirled around to shout after the retreating men, “Hey, Ben! When’s opening night?”

Ben turned around. Walking backwards, he shouted to Starsky, “Friday!”

“Thanks,” Starsky called back. “We’ll see ya there.” He waved them off, letting another giggle escape in response to the sight of the comical pair walking down the street with their arms wrapped around each other.

A moment later, Starsky started bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. “Hutch,” he piped up, “did you hear that? The circus is in town!”

“Yeah, Starsk, I heard,” Hutch groaned.

Hurriedly, Starsky went on, “I’m getting tickets before they’re sold out. Oh, wow, the circus!”

“Aw, c’mon, Starsk. It’s for kids.” Hutch knew he was being grumpy; he just couldn’t stop himself. Reaching the car, he pulled the door open but hesitated before getting in. Instead, he watched Starsky’s back, admiring the view and blushing at the thoughts in his head.

Unaware of Hutch’s predicament, Starsky whined, “Lighten up, will ya, Blondie?” He stared back at the retreating clowns again for an instant, and a smile covered his face. Then, he turned and hurried to catch up with his partner.

As he made his way to the driver’s side, Starsky stopped to peer over the hood. Seeing Hutch was flushed, he raised a concerned eyebrow, but the blond simply waved it off. So, Starsky shrugged and carried on: “Y’know, I loved the clowns when I was growing up. Ma used to take me an’ Nick on a Saturday night whenever the circus came to town. We’d have popcorn and cotton candy.”

Sighing, Hutch folded himself into the Torino. He knew Starsky would try to drag him along to the circus. He also knew that he would put up a token fight about it. That was part of the game. Hutch would never try to change his partner. That little-boy innocence was so much a part of Starsky. And Hutch loved him dearly for it, but that was yet another secret he would never let his friend discover. Smiling to himself, he turned to face his friend, saying, “Let’s go back to the station and see if there are any fingerprints on the necklace.”

Joining Hutch in the car, Starsky answered with a pout, “You’re no fun; you know that, Blintz?” He turned the key in the ignition, smiling again as the Torino purred to life.

Hutch simply sat back in his seat and grumbled, “Just drive, Starsk.”

************************************

Back at Metro, Starsky stopped off at the candy machine as usual to get his favorite treat. He unwrapped the sticky bar and took a large bite. He was still chewing away as he went in search of Hutch.

He found his partner sitting at their shared desk in the squad room. Hutch was already silently engrossed in the forensics report; so Starsky leaned in close to read over his shoulder.

Around half-chewed chocolate and nougat, he asked, “Sowhatwegot?”

Pieces of the treat sprayed over the report, and Hutch looked up at his partner, frowning in disgust. “STARSKY! Do you mind?”

Starsky simply shrugged apologetically and then leaned back in close. His hot breath brushed gently across Hutch’s ear, making him shiver. Together, the partners scrutinized the file. A moment of silence passed, before Starsky softly spoke, “Damn, no fingerprints.”

Hutch tried to reassure his friend, “Something will break soon, Starsk.”

“I hope so, Blintz,” Starsky answered, disappointment showing clearly on his face. Turning his gaze back to the file, he continued to read further down.

After scanning a few lines, he spotted something in the report that interested him. He brought his arm around Hutch excitedly, pointed at the file, and read out loud, “Small traces of blood found on the chain.” Snapping his fingers, he asked, “What blood type was Simon?”

Hutch speedily reached for the boy’s autopsy report, sensing the breakthrough they had been waiting for. “B negative.”

“Bingo!” Starsky shouted. His voice rang triumphantly around the quiet squad room. Realizing what he had just done, Starsky sheepishly glanced about. But his busy colleagues merely lifted their heads, giving him understanding smiles before continuing with their work.

“We got another clue,” Starsky said much more quietly. He beamed at his partner, excitement evident in his voice. “We got the killer’s blood type, and the blood that came back from the lab is A positive.” He straightened up and began to pace the room, excited energy causing him to wave his arms about.

Feeling a chill now that his partner’s body warmth was gone, Hutch coughed self-consciously. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and rusty sounding, “That’s great; maybe we can cross-match it to possible suspects with the same blood type and same MO.”

Hutch sprang to his feet, eager to put some distance between himself and his partner before he could give himself away. He made the filing cabinet in four easy strides. Retrieving the correct files, he brought them back to the desk. Starsky was already busy on the phone, asking Minnie for any of their older case files in which the suspect’s blood type matched that of their current killer. Hopefully, they could narrow down their search.

The partners were snowed under for the remainder of the day. The pile of old case files just kept growing, and their earlier excitement was dwindling with every file rejected.

Starsky looked up from the one he was studying. “How ’bout David Gimme? He’s A positive. And his last bust was for a knife attack.”

“Nah, I heard he’s in Cabrillo State.”

“Oh, the nut house, eh? He finally cracked then.” Starsky threw the file on the reject pile in disgust.

Hutch rose, stretching his long, lean body. Scrubbing at his face in a vain attempt to wake himself up, he made his way over to the coffee machine and poured a couple of cups of lukewarm coffee. He passed one to his friend, as he perched on a corner of his partner’s side of the desk. Taking a sip from his own cup, Hutch made a face. “Man, this stuff never gets any better.”

“Huh,” Starsky answered, too immersed in the file he was reading to respond.

Hutch nudged his friend. “Hey, Starsk.”

Without raising his head, Starsky simply replied, “Mmmm.” Then, sensing that Hutch was watching him, he looked up. “Oh, sorry. Err…did ya say somethin’?”

Tilting his head to one side in amusement, Hutch asked, “Penny for your thoughts….”

“I was just reading Mad Slasher Fred’s file. He sliced up his wife and kids. Remember him?”

“Yeah, I remember. He was one sick bastard. But isn’t he still in the joint doing 10 to 15?”

“Yeah, but he might be able to give us some information; he knows all about the whackos out on the street.”

“Okay, we can pay Fred a visit in the morning,” Hutch agreed. “Anything else to help us in there?”

“Yeah, I got a list of possible.”

Yawning, Hutch suggested, “Great. C’mon. Let’s call it a night and get an early start in the morning.”

“Yeah, sure. Lets go to The Pits an’ have a beer or two....”

***

The bar was dark and smoky. Tony sat unnoticed on a barstool in the far corner. The music was deafening, drowning out most off the patrons’ idle chatter. Lighting his third cigarette, Tony turned to the barkeep and grinned. “Give me a whisky.”

Receiving his golden nectar, he threw his head back and swallowed it. Tony enjoyed the feeling the whisky left as it burned a path down his throat. He turned, putting his hand out for another. Tonight he was watching his prey, getting ready to pounce. Just like a cat toying with a mouse…. He chuckled evilly and turned to silently watch the unsuspecting blond boy.

It was their fault Tony was stuck in this crummy city.

The hunter’s vision narrowed until he only saw his prey. Everyone else in the smoky room seemed to blur, as his thoughts drifted back to childhood memories to his first meeting with the gang of kids, the ones who had gotten this whole thing started. Years had passed since it all had happened, but something deep in Tony’s subconscious mind had been warped and damaged beyond all rational thought.

“Hey, kid! What’s yer name?”

“Tony,” he replied in a shy, timid voice.

“Yeah? Well, we heard you’re a dirty fag...an’ yer mother is a filthy whore. So, fag boy, this is our neighbourhood! Got it? Get your smelly, queer ass off our turf!”

“Yeah, weirdo! Hey, can you guys smell somethin’? Oh, it’s only fag boy here.”

The laughter rang in his head.

Tony jerked back to reality when another bar patron absentmindedly bumped into him, spilling some of his drink.

“Sorry, mister,” the man apologized.

“It’s okay, pal; don’t sweat it.” Tony turned to order another drink. Then, he whirled his stool around to continue watching the blond youth. His mind started to wonder again….

“We don’t want ya living ’round here, giving us a bad name you and yer whore of a mother. My dad says she’ll fuck anything with money.”

They all laughed in his face.

Shaking, Tony disappeared into the sanctuary of his home. “Mommy!” he called, wandering through the small, one-bedroom apartment.

This time, a woman’s silky voice brought him back. Tony glanced over to see a beautiful young woman with long, jet-black hair. “Hi, mister. Would you like to buy a lady a drink?”

Tony glared up at her, disgusted. “I would if there was a lady about,” he replied.

Huffing, the woman slinked off in search of another customer. Tony watched her as she left; she reminded him of his mother.

Little Tony headed toward the bedroom. As he drew nearer, he heard strange noises coming from beyond the door. He crept closer and peered through the old crack in the wood. His mother was lying on the bed with a strange man; he was on top of her, moaning and running his grubby hands all over her naked body. Tony knew he shouldn’t be watching, but he was fascinated by the events unfolding before his eyes.

The man slid off Tony’s mother and kneeled down in front of her. Grabbing her hair roughly, he pulled her head up toward him. Tony watched as the man pushed his cock into her mouth and ordered her to keep still. Then, holding her hair so tightly she couldn’t move, the man fucked the woman’s mouth violently. He pulled out before he came, forcing her down onto the bed and grabbing her legs to spread them wide. From his vantage point, Tony saw the man dribble; the sight made him sick to his stomach.

The man fell on top of Tony’s mother and entered her roughly. She let out a small cry of pain, but said nothing. Then, the man laughed hideously. “That’s it, you little whore; take the whole thing. Go on. You know you want to. God, you’re hungry for it!”

Tony stood rooted to the spot, appalled by what his mother was letting the ugly man do to her. The tiny bedroom seemed to ring with her painful moans, as the man moved faster and faster. Finally, there came a loud yell, followed by a deep groan, and the man stopped.

For a long moment, nothing moved. The silence seemed deafening. Tony’s heart beat so fast, he thought it would fly out of his throat. Tears welled up in his dark eyes, making everything misty. Quietly, he watched as the man rolled off his mother and quickly got dressed. The stranger threw some money on the bed and left without a word, walking past Tony as if he wasn’t there. Repulsed and utterly ashamed at what he had just witnessed, the boy ran from the apartment.

Tony rubbed his leg and gave another evil chuckle. Yes, he would always remember, especially when his leg pained him or when someone stared at his face. He sat on the barstool, spying on the unsuspecting youth and his friends at the nearby table. Soon, very soon, Kevin would feel his wrath.

His mother had already felt it for bringing him to Bay City, for making him leave his friends behind. She really shouldn’t have done that. And she should never have slept with all those men. Hadn’t she realized that they had all talked about her? Why hadn’t she cared? Well…now, she was sorry.

“Trapped in a burning apartment,” the official report had stated an accident. After all, alcohol and candles were a dangerous mix. Only Tony knew the real truth: how he had forced whisky down her throat until she finally passed out and then simply arranged the candles near the curtains before he left.

Tony sat still a few moments longer before he decided it was time to leave. He knew Kevin would come back to the bar, as he frequented the establishment. All Tony had to do was pick the right time.

Muttering quietly under his breath, the dark-haired man slithered off the stool. “Soon we will get reacquainted. It will be such fun, just like old times.” He limped slowly out of the bar, unnoticed by the group. Would Kevin be just like all the rest, he wondered, and try to make Tony think he had the wrong one. Frowning, he made an eerie noise deep in his throat and disappeared into the darkness of the back alley.

************************************

“C’mon, Starsk! Will you hurry up? We’re gonna be late again,” Hutch called from the kitchen.

“Hey, last time was ’cause we used your junk heap of a car. We won’t be late this time; we’re using my car,” Starsky’s muffled retort come from the bedroom, where he was finishing dressing.

“Well, hurry up anyway, because unless your car can fly, we’re still gonna be late,” Hutch replied sarcastically.

“I’m coming. I’m coming. Don’t worry! Jeez, you know what your problem is?”

“Yeah, you!” Hutch drawled. “Now get a move on.”

Starsky pouted, though Hutch couldn’t see it from his position in the kitchen. “No, not me! I was gonna say that you’re too uptight. You should relax more.”

“Okay, I’m ready.” Starsky smiled smugly as he emerged from the bedroom. “Let’s go. We got a visit to make today.” Strolling to the front door, he held it open and waited for his friend to join him.

Hutch stomped over toward the brunet, huffing in a bad-tempered way, “You can tell Dobey we were late because you couldn’t find your favorite jeans.”

“Hey, I love those jeans. And I know they’re around here someplace. Just got to find ’em before Friday.” Starsky swatted his friend’s ass as Hutch walked by.

Blushing profusely, Hutch quickly left the apartment, hurrying down the steps and ran into the street. He made his way to the Torino without a backward glance, leaving Starsky in his wake. He could hear Starsky’s laughter behind him.

************************************

Starsky started the car, smiling broadly as it purred smoothly to life once again. Grabbing the mike, Hutch logged the partners in and asked to be patched through to Dobey. Seconds later, a disembodied voice came back over the line, “Zebra-Three patched through to Captain Dobey.”

“Is that you, Hutch?” the captain’s voice asked.

“Yeah, it’s me, Cap. We’re going to pay Mad Fred a visit, see if he can help us.”

“Isn’t he that lunatic you arrested a few years back?”

“Yeah, that’s him. Sliced up his family.”

“What makes you think he’ll help?”

“We won’t know ’til we get there. But it’s worth a try.”

“Seems like you’re grasping at straws, but okay. Let me know how you get on.”

“Will do. Oh, and, Cap’n, we also have a list of possible suspects we want run down.”

“Okay, give ’em to me.”

“Luke Simons. Mackenzie Truman. Ethan Smolensk. Nathan Schneider.”

“Leave it to me.”

“Ten-four. Out.” Reaching over and replacing the mike, Hutch sat back in his seat. He put on his shades to block the glare of the sun and then gazed over at his friend. “So you got a date lined up for this weekend?” he asked, clearing his throat.

Starsky flashed him a wide grin before answering, “Yep, I got a hot date all lined up for Friday night. I’m going to the circus. I managed to get a hold of two tickets.” The brunet thought he saw a shadow flit across his friend’s eyes, but it was gone before he could be certain.

“Oh, right,” came Hutch’s quiet reply. He turned to gaze out of the side window. I thought he was going to ask me to go with him.

Hutch felt a little ridiculous about being disappointed. After all, he didn’t even like the stupid circus, and it wasn’t as if Starsky would even want to take him on a date. It was just….Hutch coughed again and was suddenly all business as he asked, “Do you think Fred will come through for us?”

“Well, I’m hoping he can answer some questions.”

“He’d better, or we’re right back to square one.”

“Something will break. We got the blood type and a description, so we just need a name.” It was Starsky’s turn to do the reassuring now; that’s how the partnership of me & thee worked. When one doubted, the other always helped put him on the right track again.

The rest of the drive was finished in silence. When they arrived at the facility, Starsky and Hutch were shown into a small room containing a plain, brown table and two wooden chairs. A tiny window high up did little to brighten the bleak confines, and only a single light lit the room.

Starsky strolled over to the table and perched on the edge, clasping his hands between his knees. Hutch sat on one of the chairs. Starsky leaned in and softly spoke into his partner’s ear, “Y’know, we need to talk!”

Hutch gulped noisily, trying to swallow past the lump that suddenly threatened to block his throat. Taking a closer look at an interesting stain on the wall, he finally turned to meet his friend’s dark blue eyes. “Yeah, guess we do.”

Five minutes later, the door opened, and Fred was escorted in. He slouched over and sat down in the remaining chair.

“Hiya, Freddy,” Starsky said grinning.

Fred glared at the two detectives. “To what do I owe this house call from the City’s finest?”

Starsky slid off the table and, moving like an animal stalking its prey, slowly walked to where Fred was sitting. Pausing behind the criminal, the brunet leaned forward and whispered into Fred’s ear, as if he were imparting some great secret, “We want some information on a nut who likes playing with knives.”

Starsky’s voice made Fred jump, but he remained defiant. “Well, well, Bay City’s golden boys have come to me for help. In case you bright boys haven’t noticed, I’m locked up. You put me here, remember?”

Starsky glared, making Fred squirm in his chair. Then, he moved in until the seated man could feel Starsky’s hot breath against his face. In a low, deadly voice that would make any hardened criminal roll over and obey, he growled, “Freddy . . .Freddy, you know everything that goes on out there, even from here in the joint.”

Fred started sweating as he looked down and fiddled with his hands; his panicked gaze darted from one set of blue eyes to the other. Finding no safe haven, he decided it was in his best interest to answer the detective’s question. “Okay, okay. There are two guys at this moment that I know of that like using knives. ”He shifted nervously again, looking uncomfortable, but continued, “Look, you didn’t hear any of this from me, right? I don’t want it getting out that I helped you guys.”

Hutch leaned forward impatiently. “Yeah, yeah, Fred, not a word. Now, what’re their names?”

Apprehensively, the criminal revealed the names: “Okay. Ethan Smolensk and Tony Richards.”

“We know about Ethan, but who’s this Tony Richards? And what does he look like?” Hutch spat.

Freddy turned toward Hutch who was staring at him. “Don’t know the low-down on him personally, but I can tell you what he looks like. Just from what I’ve been told, you understand.” He provided the detectives with a description that perfectly matched the one Mickey had already given them. Starsky and Hutch peered over at each other, their eyes locking silent conversation.

Tony Richards. So we have a name for our suspect, at last. See, Hutch, told ya somethin’ would come up.

Yeah, you were right, Starsk.

Reluctantly Starsky tore his eyes away from his parnter’s and grinned back at Fred, asking, “Got an address for this Tony Richards?” He spat out the name as if it were poison on his tongue.

“No, no address; told you I don’t know anything else. Just leave me alone.”

Starsky leaned over and tapped the nervous convict on the cheeks hard. Then, he snarled, “Come on, Fred. We need an address. We need something. Wouldn’t want me to forget and tell the wrong person I got the information from you, would ya?”

Fred stared wide-eyed in horror. He nervously blurted out, “You wouldn’t! Come on, Starsky. That would be like signing my death warrant.”

Starsky once again invaded Fred’s space, glaring as he growled, “Address, Fred. We need an address.”

“O-okay. I’ve heard he hangs out at the Midnight Tavern. You promise not to tell anyone I told ya, don’t ya?”

Starsky patted Fred’s head as if he were rewarding a dog. Then, he put on a hurt face and wiped his hand down his pants. “What? Don’t ya trust us?”

Grinning, Starsky signalled for his partner to follow. Together, they left the small room, with Fred yelling and swearing in their wake.

Starsky and Hutch walked out of the prison into the brilliant sunlight. Donning their shades, the two detectives made their way over to the Torino.

“Y’know, you’re kinda scary playing the bad cop. Glad we’re on the same side,” Hutch said a smile on his lips.

Starsky just flashed a toothy grin, walked up to his friend and patted his stomach affectionately. “Tonight we talk; for now, we find Tony.”

Hutch stood rooted to the spot. He had momentarily forgotten about his other dilemma. Now, his stomach churned, and the lump in his throat was back, making it hard to swallow or breathe. Nervously, he laughed and croaked out, “Yeah, right.”

He must know. Oh, God! What do I do now? How do I get out of this without losing him forever? Hutch sighed and hurried after his partner.

Once in the Torino, Hutch busied himself as he reached over and radioed in to Metro, asking for an APB on Tony Richards. When he was finished, he turned to his partner. “Let’s go to the bar and see if we can strike gold.”

************************************

As they pulled up outside the Midnight Tavern, the two detectives gave the place a quick look over before entering. It wasn’t a high-class establishment, but it wasn’t too bad. Making their way into the bar-room, they headed toward the barkeep.

Starsky could feel the locals’ eyes boring into the back of his head as he made his way over to the bar and leaned forward. The noise of the music and the chatter of the patrons, forced Starsky to raise his voice, “I’m Detective David Starsky. This is Detective Ken Hutchinson, my partner.”

The two detectives flashed their badges. Then, Starsky brought out a rolled up picture of their suspect from his back pocket and showed the barkeep. “We’re looking for this man, and we’ve been told he frequents this bar. Has he been in lately?”

The big man behind the bar was wearing a dirty apron and his hair looked greasy as he continued to rub his rag over the glass as he spared them a quick, disinterested glance. “Nope.”

Starsky turned and smiled at his friend; then, sighing, he turned back toward the bar. Quick as a cougar, he grabbed the barkeep, pulling him halfway cross the bar top. The patrons shuffled away nervously, as the force of pulling the large man over started sending glasses flying.

Retrieving the sketch from the floor where it had landed, Hutch put it back on the bar. Shoving the barkeep backwards, Starsky pointed at the picture. “Now, let’s try again, shall we? Has he been in lately?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the man grunted. “He was in last week.”

“That’s better,” Starsky said, brushing him off and straightening the glasses that had toppled but stayed on the bar. “See, that wasn’t so bad. Now, we’re getting somewhere. If he comes back, you’ll call us, right?”

“Yeah, sure I will. Right! Soon as he comes in, I’ll call ya.”

Starsky handed the uncooperative man a card with Metro’s number on it and then turned to his partner. “Let’s go.” Putting his hand on the small of Hutch’s back, Starsky guided him out of the bar.

As they walked towards the entrance Starsky could feel a slight tremble running through Hutch’s back.

While Starsky and Hutch were busy running down leads, on the other side of town, Tony was busy preparing. He would soon make his chosen victim pay dearly for what his twisted mind truly believed the boy had done. And the boy’s obvious popularity only served to fuel Tony’s ever-growing misplaced hatred.

It was true that his doctors saw the disturbed young man on a regular basis. They had even prescribed some medication that was supposed to help calm him down. Tony, however, not trusting the medical profession, never took them. He told the doctors he did, so they would stay off his back and not lock him up like they had threatened. But, secretly, he hid the medication; he was so much cleverer than “them.”

**********************

Tony was in position, watching his target from across the street. The boy and his friends had gathered outside a small coffee shop. Now, they were laughing and horsing around as they walked down Main Street. The blond youth slipped his arm around his girlfriend’s slender waist and pulled her close, unaware of the danger lurking nearby.

The couple stopped, while their friends continued down the street. Darting into a dirty alley, the two started kissing. Tony ducked into the shadows across the street, a new thought springing into his mind. Maybe I should grab his girlfriend, as well. Have some fun. Make “Kevin” watch while I claim his girlfriend.

As he continued to spy, Tony couldn’t keep his mind from drifting back to another time and place.

After an argument with his mom, he had run out of the apartment and straight into the hands of the neighbourhood bullies. The oldest member of the gang had stepped forward and pushed Tony hard. He’d stumbled backwards, falling down the apartment stairs and breaking his left leg in three places. He laid on the stairs for several hours before being discovered, alone and in pain, the cruel laughter of the bullies still ringing in his ears.

Violently shaking his head, Tony rubbed his sore leg with a trembling hand. Sweat dripped from his flushed face. He cursed himself for his momentary lack of concentration; he couldn’t afford it now. He was so close to his goal, he could taste it.

The two youngsters finally stepped back onto the street, reuniting quickly with their friends. Suddenly, the boy turned in the direction of where Tony was hiding.

Fearing he’d been spotted, the man stepped farther back into a shop doorway.

“Jake, what’s the matter?” the young girl asked, concern in her soft voice.

“Oh, nothing; it’s just that…”

“What?”

Jake couldn’t explain the sense of discomfort that had suddenly come over him a premonition of danger that made his neck hair rise. Feeling stupid and self-conscious, he simply shrugged and tried reassuring his girlfriend.
“Nothing darling. You know what I’m like when I’ve had too much coffee; makes me a bit hyper.”

Both laughed as they continued strolling with their friends. But the youth threw one last glance over his shoulder toward the shop doorway were Tony hid. A cold chill ran through him; then, laughing his uneasy way, he made a mental note to cut down on coffee.

As the group wandered off, Tony left his hiding place and followed. There could be a problem with this one. However, the adrenalin rush he’d experience when the deed was complete would make it so satisfying and exciting! Seeing the bullies’ faces again, making them beg, that was his biggest dream. Now, considering that he had never taken two people before; it would be very risky. Continuing to follow from behind, Tony started making plans mentally for the daring snatch.

*************************

After leaving the Midnight Tavern, the two detectives patrolled their beat for the rest of the day. As usual, Starsky insisted they stop at a small hotdog stand, so he could refuel.

Trying to talk around a mouthful of greasy chilidog, Starsky declared, “These are the best.”

Hutch threw his friend an amused grin and leaned in closer to him. “What’s that, partner? I don’t understand gibberish.” The heat that came off Starsky’s body made Hutch shudder. And he pulled back quickly as he felt his cock started to stir to life at the warm sensation.

Swallowing his mouthful, Starsky flashed a bright grin at his partner. “I said, ‘These are the best.’ Y’know Hutch; my body is like my car. It’s a fine piece of machinery, and it needs fuel to work.”

Starsky talking about his body and what it was like started doing strange things to Hutch and he shifted to try and relieve the pressure as he spoke. “Oh, right. Yeah. I s’pose if ya don’t mind heartburn.”

“You just don’t appreciate good food.”

“Oh man, Starsk! That stuff will rot your guts. It’s a wonder your stomach hasn’t fallen out yet.”

The partners continued their patrol, ever vigilant for their suspect. But as the day wore on and the partners again failed to find him, they began to feel utterly disheartened. Finally, the despondent detectives made their way back to Metro.

By the time Starsky and Hutch arrived, the two had made a silent agreement. As soon as they entered the building, they split up. Starsky headed straight for their captain’s office, so he could update him on their progress, while Hutch went to check their messages, before starting on the report about their morning visit with Fred.

After leaving Dobey’s office, Starsky wandered over to stand near his partner. The curly haired detective leaned over the desk and silently waited for Hutch to look up.

“I’ve got a few errands to run tonight; so I’ll drop ya off and then come back tonight.”

“Sure thing, Gordo. Is anything wrong?” Hutch inquired, with a shy smile. But all the while glad that he would have some time alone to gather up his resistance before Starsky arrived
“
No, everything’s fine. I’ll bring a pizza with me.”

Rolling his eyes, Hutch was grateful for the normalness that settled over them as he replied sarcastically, “Oh, great! Well, at least get a topping I can eat.”

“Okay. Half rabbit food, half real food,” Starsky retorted, laughing out loud,

Hutch smiled. Starsky always teased him about his eating habits. He’d become accustomed to it by now even expected it. Pulling his report from the typewriter and signing it, he passed it over to his partner for his signature.

With the reports finally wrapped up, Starsky looked across the desk at Hutch. “Hey, Blondie!” Hutch peered back.

“Let’s finish up here and get out before Dobey grabs us for anything else.”

“Think we can get away with it?” the blond asked.

“If we’re quick. I just left him in the office. He was busy munching on a doughnut.”

“Bet Edith doesn’t know.”

“Can you imagine what she would say?”

“He’d be sleeping on the couch for a week!”

Both men were laughing like schoolchildren in class as they ended their shift.

As he had promised, Starsky dropped Hutch off first. Before climbing out of the Torino, Hutch paused and turned towards his friend. He was unable to hide the hopeful tone that crept into his voice. “I’ll see you later then, Gordo?” It came out more as an unsure question than a statement.

“See ya later, Blintz.” Starsky reassured his friend, before he pulled away from the curb and drove off.

Hutch watched the Torino round the corner, and then he slowly turned to climb the stairs.

Entering his apartment Hutch went straight to the kitchen and grabbed a cool beer. Then he went into the front room and slouched onto the couch. Taking a few swallows Hutch slowly ran his hand down his stomach until he reached his cock that had been half hard all day.

Slowly he started stroking himself, his eyes closed as he imagined it was Starsky’s hand that was teasing him so wonderfully even though it was through the fabric.

The zip made a loud sound in the quiet room. His breathing was ragged as a tremble ran through him.

Lifting his now heavy member out of its confines Hutch fell into his favorite day-dream of Starsky making love to him. a soft sad moan escaped his parted lips as he climaxed. Then finishing his beer Hutch went to shower and get ready for Starsky to come over and unwittingly set Hutch’s body off again.

****************************

Showered and clean Hutch was sitting on the couch lost in his thoughts trying to sort through his confusing feelings. When he felt the warmth of Starsky’s hand touch his knee, the sensation rushing through his body straight to his groin sending signals again. Startled back to reality, he leaped off the couch and landed heavily on his knees. Pain shot through his bad leg, the one he’d injured when Vic Humphries had had him run off the road and left for dead a few months ago. He recovered quickly from the shock, but his fair skin still turned pink with embarrassment.

“S-Starsky, I didn’t hear you come in.” His dreaded stammer made an appearance, causing Hutch to wince inside.

“Well, that much I guessed, Blondie.” Starsky flashed a smile at his friend, but his deep-blue eyes held concern and empathy. He quickly bent to help his friend back onto the couch and then went on, “’Cause I’ve been speaking for the last five minutes and getting no response.”

Deciding Hutch needed time to recuperate Starsky tried to lighten the mood. With a mischievous grin, he placed the pizza box on the table and lightly ordered, “Dish up dinner; I’m staving.”

Hutch flashed a smile of gratitude to his friend; then disappeared into the kitchen. He emerged moments later, armed with plates, the bowl of salad and two beers. He sat on the floor next to his friend, and they dug into their feast. Hutch focused on enjoying this time with his best friend, not sure if he would still have Starsky after tonight.

Sighing contentedly, Starsky rubbed his full stomach. “Man! That was terrific. Really hit the spot.” He smacked his lips together and let out a loud belch to prove his point. Then, tipping his bottle back and swallowing the last of his now-warm beer, he stood up, stretched and went in the direction of the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “Want another beer?”

Hutch knew “the talk” was imminent. He found it hard to swallow the last piece of pizza, as it lodged in his suddenly dry throat. He desperately wished he were anywhere but here, heading toward a conversation, which, in all probability, would send his whole world crashing down. Finally swallowing the pizza down, he managed to croak out, “Yeah.”

Starsky came back and handed his friend a beer. Sitting on the couch beside his partner, so close that their thighs touched, he began to speak, “So, you wanna tell me what ya been brooding about, Blintz?”

Nervously, Hutch leaped to his feet and rushed over to the window, creating some much-needed distance between them. He sighed, resting his head against the cool glass, while Starsky made himself comfortable on the couch and waited patiently. The brunet had all the time in the world when it came to his partner.

So quietly that Starsky had to strain to hear him, Hutch began his confession: “S-Starsky, over the last six months, I-I’ve been having these feelings.”

“I know, babe,” Starsky answered in a voice as sweet as honey.

“I have tried to fight them, honest I have. I-it’s just” Hutch’s head shot up. “What did you say? What do you mean, you know?”

Starsky shrugged. Then, with a brilliant smile, he replied simply, “I know, because I’ve been havin’ the same feelings.”

Hutch stared wide-eyed at his partner, letting this little piece of information sink in. Meanwhile, Starsky just sat quietly, scared he would spook his jittery friend. His heart twisted, knowing Hutch had obviously been struggling with emotional pain and confusion as he’d tried to come to terms with these disturbing feelings on his own.

Dumb-ass, Starsky thought affectionately. He then tried to reassure his friend. “Hutch, it’s okay. I ”
Marching over to where Starsky was sitting, Hutch cut him off sharply. “How can it be ‘okay,’ Starsk? This… this thing that is happening to us is dangerous. We can’t”

“Yes, we can.” Starsky jumped in before Hutch could get a full head of steam built up. “If we’re very careful and don’t advertise it, it will be okay, babe.” He finished in a gently teasing way.

Pacing the floor and running a shaky hand through his blond strands, Hutch glanced at his partner. Then, he stated in a gruff voice, “I don’t believe this. I mean it’s so dangerous.”

“Hutch, if we’re careful, no one ever needs to find out. At least until we’re ready to tell a few select people, like Huggy maybe.”

Hutch stopped in mid-pace to stare disbelievingly at his friend; this was not how he had imagined the talk would go. “But we could lose our jobs, or worse, and if the guys at work find out, our backup might never come.”

Hurt flickered momentarily in the depths of Starsky’s ocean-deep eyes. Then, he bent his head and softly spoke, “I’ve always thought of you as my backup. Don’t need anyone else… thought you felt the same.”

Feeling ten kinds of a heel for hurting his closest friend, Hutch whispered, “God! I’m sorry, Starsky. I do feel the same. I swear I do! Don’t know what I’m saying . . . what the hell is happening to us?”

“We’re just moving up a stage in our relationship,” Starsky said gently. “This was inevitable. You can’t stop it, Blondie, so just enjoy it.”

Starsky sat watching his partner with a mix of amusement and sadness. The confused blond started pacing again; then, sighing heavily, he seemed to run out of steam. Rubbing his face, Hutch went back to staring out the window into the darkness, seeing nothing.

Starsky always moved liked a cat. So, Hutch wasn’t surprised that he didn’t hear his friend come up behind him. The flash of the brunet’s reflection in the mirror was the only warning he had of Starsky’s approach.

As he lightly put his hand on Hutch’s shoulder, Starsky felt his friend stiffen at the touch. He spoke then, quietly reminding his friend, “We won’t be doing anything in that station that we haven’t done a thousand times before. We’re always touching each other, can’t keep our hands off. And there’s been talk about us for years. It’s just that now they’ll be right.”

The look on Hutch’s face nearly made Starsky laugh out loud. “Oh, boy, you really are blond, ain’t ya, Blintz? C’mon over here before ya fall down.” Pulling on Hutch’s arm, he manoeuvred his emotionally fragile friend over to the couch.

“S-Starsky, what?!” Was all Hutch could muster past his blocked throat. He swallowed and brought a trembling hand up to hold Starsky’s cheek. Rubbing his thumb lightly over Hutch’s fingers, Starsky leaned into the touch. He closed his eyes, purring deeply in his throat.

Hutch now had permission to touch all he wanted to. Still dazed, he couldn’t believe his luck; it was a dream come true! Suddenly, a car horn sounded somewhere outside, breaking the spell. Both men pulled away, and Hutch coughed nervously, running a hand through his hair.

Starsky made a quick decision, before it was too late. He wanted to take this relationship very slowly. If he stayed much longer, he knew things would heat up fast. This was Hutch he was dealing with, after all, the last person he would ever compromise or hurt. “Well, it’s late. I’d better go.”

Shocked and disappointed, Hutch stammered, “W-what, you’re leaving? C-can’t you stay the night? I’ve waited so long to be able to be with you.”

Starsky’s reserve nearly shattered right there in Hutch’s living room. “No, babe. I think we should take this real slow. You’re too important to me, and this…” Starsky waved his arms between them to indicate his meaning. “Well, it’s gonna be special. I don’t wanna rush in, okay? ’Sides, let’s get this case wrapped up and then take that vacation.” The brunet flashed a brilliant, toothy smile that made Hutch’s fair skin turn bright red.

Starsky’s heart seemed to stop for an instant, and he leaned forward to kiss Hutch’s forehead shyly. The friends hugged tightly and then parted.

Starsky took Hutch’s hand. “I’m off, babe. ’Kay? See ya in the morning!” Starsky drew Hutch close and squeezed him again. Then, he left, closing the door quietly behind him.

He trotted down the steps, whistling, excited about his future with his partner, best friend and, now, soon-to-be lover. Climbing into the Torino, Starsky pulled away from the curb and headed home.

But Hutch simply stood in the middle of his living room, staring at the door. He loves me! He really loves me! Going to have to take it slow; finish this case and then go away.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep just yet, he cleaned up the mess he and Starsky had made earlier. He felt high, a good high though, not at all like the one that bastard Forrest had sent him on. Of course, Starsky had been there for him then. He should have known better than to think Starsky wouldn’t want him now.

Hutch made his way into the bathroom, peeking at the mirror and wondering if he would still be wearing such a sappy smile in the morning. Talking to the empty room, Hutch could not contain himself, “Starsky loves me.; wants me!” He smiled at his own reflection. I have not lost him. The relief of that realization rushed over him, leaving him feeling weak and light-headed.

Standing on rubbery legs, he cleaned himself up. Afterwards, he went around the apartment, turning the lights off and locking the door. As he entered the bedroom, Hutch discarded his clothes and slipped between the cool bed sheets. He was looking forward to seeing his partner in the morning. A quick glance at the clock showed it was 1:30 a.m. Yawning, the blond whispered, “Night, Starsk,” as he drifted off to sleep.

Starsky entered his apartment and locked the door. He made his way to the bathroom and quickly brushed his teeth. Peering in the mirror, he smiled. We’re going to be very careful. I’d never, ever want to hurt you.
Checking the windows and locking the door, Starsky padded over to his sleeping area. Undressing, he slid under the soothing sheets, closed his eyes, and breathed, “Night, Hutch!” Then, he finally succumbed to sleep.

***********

Tony was ready to make his move. Tonight would be the best of all. Tonight was Kevin’s turn; he’d receive his just desserts for pushing Tony down the stairs. He would scream his apology, and he would beg before he died.

Jake and Angie were walking home hurriedly. Distracted by their friends, the two adolescents had forgotten all about the time. Now, they were going to be late.

As they rapidly walked, a black car slowly crawled along the curb, flanking them. The driver leaned out the window to ask, “I was wondering if you could help me. I’m sort of lost?”

“Sure, mister,” Jake said with a smile.

“Jake, we’re late.” Angie whined. “Hurry up!”

“Okay. Just going to help this man out.”

Jake walked toward the driver, who was waving a large road map in front of him. As he came up to the car window, Jake froze, staring wide-eyed at the evil-looking man in the car. The young man could feel a cold, steel blade pressing tight against his stomach.

The stranger snarled, “Call your bitch over here, or I’ll kill you right now in front of her.” He pushed the knife in slightly to prove his words held the truth.

Horrified, Jake managed to somehow stammer out, “A-Angie, c-come over h-here.”

Angie impatiently rolled her green eyes and stomped toward the two men. “Jake, we don’t have to . . .” Before she could finish what she was saying, the girl gasped, seeing the knife. Anxiously, her eyes searched up and down the deserted street for help.

The evil man wasn’t hanging around, though. Viciously, he spat out, “Get in the car, bitch! Or I’ll do your boyfriend.”

“Do it, Angie. Get in,” begged Jake.

Terrified, the girl reached for the door handle. It felt cold to her touch, and her hands trembled slightly as she entered the car. She slid over to make room for Jake, the leather seats rubbing uncomfortably against her legs.

“Now, you,” the man snapped impatiently at Jake. “Come on; get in.”

“Okay, man, take it easy,” Jake said softly, trying to placate the intimidating man. He quickly followed Angie into the car and shut the door behind him, sealing their fate. The ominous black car sped away to disappear into the night.

“Why are you doing this?” Jake asked, hating the quiver that appeared in his voice. He knew he had to be strong for Angie.

“Shut up, Kevin! Tonight, is my night,” Tony angrily barked out.

Angie leaned closer to Jake, looking for reassurance. Whispering, she asked her boyfriend, “Why does he keep calling you Kevin?”

“I said, ‘shut up!’” The man snapped, as he drove through the dark streets. He was heading toward a shabby motel he planned on using as the setting for his “perfect revenge.”

The two frightened youngsters sat in the back of the car, their minds whirling. What did this crazed man have in store for them? The car smelled strongly of stale smoke and old whiskey, and various pieces of trash littered the floor: old papers, empty coffee cups and food cartons.

Angie was starting to get hysterical. Not wanting to upset their highly agitated captor, Jake tried to calm her, soothingly whispering in her ear.

“What does he want with us? What’s he going to do?” The girl kept repeating in a panicked voice.

“Shhh,” Jake reassured her. “It’s gonna be okay, baby. Just do as he says, and everything will be fine.”

“But why does he keep calling you by that name? I don’t understand this; I don’t understand any of this!”

Placing his hands on either side of Angie’s face, Jake looked straight into her eyes.
“I don’t either, sweetie. All we can do is stay calm, and we’ll get through this; I promise,” he said in a hushed whisper.

The car finally pulled into a small gravel driveway and stopped outside a dirty motel. Tony turned, resting his arm on the back of his seat, and stared at his two unhappy passengers. When he’d had his fill, he threw a set of handcuffs at Jake. They struck the young man in the face before landing in his lap.

Tony laughed and then barked out an order: “Put those on and attach yourself to the door.” Leering at Angie, he winked and ran his tongue suggestively over his bottom lip.

The frightened girl huddled closer to Jake, petrified by the hidden sexual threat in Tony’s actions. The madman found Angie’s discomfort amusing, but he forced himself to turn his attention back to Jake. “Once I’ve killed you, I’ll have only one more left, your good friend Dennis. Then, I’ll have passed the test. You do remember Dennis, don’t you?”

Tony climbed out of the car. He opened the backdoor and roughly grabbed Angie, pulling her to his side. She yelped at the sudden tight grip on her arm.

Rubbing his sore face, Jake quickly obeyed and set about securing himself to the door. Then, trying to appear more daring than he felt, he asked, “Where are you taking her? And who is Dennis?”

Panic was taking hold of Jake, knotting up the pit of his stomach and making him feel ill. Now realizing his compliance had been a mistake, the young man could do nothing but watch helplessly as Tony slid his hand first around Angie’s slim waist and then over her bottom, squeezing it roughly.

Angie, repulsed by the touch, whimpered and tried to move away, but Tony tightened his hold on her. She felt sick, and her heart was fiercely pounding.

Lowering his voice, Tony said to Jake, “We’re getting a room. If you’re good, we might let you join us.” Then, as if as an afterthought, he threw in, “Oh, and if you’re thinking of making any noise or trying to get help, just remember, I’ll slice her pretty throat if you do!” He caressed Angie’s neck with his fingers.

Tony turned suddenly, pulling Angie with him. As they moved away from Jake, the killer shot over his shoulder, “Sit tight, lover boy.” Then, laughing out loud, he disappeared into the motel with the frightened girl.

Inside the lobby, Tony dragged Angie over to the desk. A fat man sat behind it, smoking a cigarette and reading a crinkled newspaper. He smelled strongly of body odor, and his hair was dirty and unkempt.

Tony shouted at him, “A room and hurry up. This little lady is hot, if you know what I mean.”

The heavy man stood up lazily, scratching at his stomach through his dirty string vest. As he fetched a room key and handed it to Tony, he took in Angie’s uneasy demeanour. These whores are getting younger every year, he thought. He guessed that this was probably her first time on the job, judging by her nervous manner.

Blowing cigarette smoke in his guests’ faces, the man merely shrugged, uninterested. It wasn’t his business. “Room 13. You go outside, turn left and follow the hall all the way down.”

“Yeah, right. Thanks,” Tony replied impatiently. Snatching the key, he swung Angie around and left.

The desk clerk spared the two one last look and scratched his head, trying to remember. The man seemed familiar somehow. Had he seen a picture somewhere? Shrugging, the clerk sat down again and lit another cigarette. As he carried on reading his paper, he thought, it’ll come back. Was probably nothing important anyway.

******

In the back seat of the car, Jake was frantically searching for help. But Tony had known what he was doing. He had parked at the back of the motel’s lot, in the dark shadows; the car was black and hard to see in the low light.

Jake cursed himself. He was even wearing black. He was, for all intents and purposes, invisible. No one would see him. A knot of dread crept through his stomach, and his mouth went dry. Stifling a sob, he rubbed his free hand down his pants leg. There was nothing he could do but wait. He and Angie were at the mercy of a crazy man.

A few minutes later, although it seemed like hours, Tony emerged from the motel with Angie. Pulling her along, he opened the car door, grabbed his bag and threw the handcuff key at Jake. Then, holding the cold steel of his blade across Angie’s throat, he spoke cheerfully, “Come on, Kevin. Want to join the party? Mind you, no sudden moves, now. We don’t want to hurt this lovely girl, do we?”

“Look, my name’s Jake. Please, you’ve got to believe me; you have the wrong guy.”

“Oh, Kevin, I’m so disappointed in you… Now, get out!”

***************

The motel room was small and dirty and smelled of old sex and alcohol. A grubby-looking single bed ran along one wall. Tony pushed Angie onto it as soon as they entered. Beside the bed, leaned an uneven table. Tony dropped his bag onto it, and it made a loud crash as it landed.

In one corner, stood a hard, wooden chair. Tony pushed Jake towards it and then shoved him roughly down onto the seat. Retrieving a rope from his bag, the killer set about securing Jake’s arms and legs.

Then he turned toward Angie, his face twisting into an ugly leer as he spoke, “Well, my sweet, what shall we do to entertain Kevin?”

Crawling up the dirty bed, Angie whimpered as panic set in, “No, no! Please, don’t hurt me, please…”

“Hurt you? I’m not going to hurt you, my dear. We’re having a party. We’re having fun. Aren’t you having fun, then?”

“Why are you doing this?” the girl whispered.

Glaring at Jake, Tony spat. “It’s because of you, Kevin. Why don’t you tell her? You’re the one that hurts people, aren’t you?”

Angie reached the top of the bed; she had nowhere left to go. “Why do you keep calling him Kevin? His name’s Jake?” she pleaded.

Tony leaped off the bed, stalked toward Jake and punched him hard in the face. Then, grabbing a fistful of blond hair, he jerked Jake’s head back painfully.

For Angie’s sake, the young man fought the darkness that threatened to claim him. He couldn’t leave her alone with this violent wacko.

All the while, Tony just continued ranting, “Did you tell her ’bout me, Kevin? Did you, huh? About what you did to me how you and the others ruined my life… No, of course, you didn’t. Wouldn’t want others to know, huh?” His voice rose, as spittle flew from his mouth.

Tony leaned in closer to Jake, his foul-smelling breath making his captive feel more nauseous. “It doesn’t matter, because now I know that you and all the others were a test… from God. Once I’ve killed you all, I’ll become his obedient servant. And with Him by my side, I’ll rule the streets of Bay City!” Tony gave a horrible chuckle from deep in his throat.

Jake struggled harder, trying desperately to breathe more air into his already inflamed lungs. “I-I’m sorry, but I’m n-not this Kevin you keep calling me. My n-na…”

Tony cut him off sharply, jerking his head and making him cry out in pain. To Jake, it felt like the sick bastard had just ripped his scalp right off.

“Stop it, Kevin!” the killer growled. “The others tried to deny it, but you, you were their leader.”

A terrified gasp came from the direction of the bed. Then, a weak whisper floated toward the two men. “Others…? Oh, my God! Y-you’re the one t-they’re looking for. Y-you killed those teenagers!”

Angie stared in horror at Tony, paralyzed with fear as she struggled to come to terms with what was happening. In a shaky voice, she asked, “You’re going to kill us, as well?”

Tony could hear the panic in Angie’s voice, and he was pleased. “They all deserved it,” he growled. “You don’t know what this bastard did to me. She doesn’t know, does she, Kevin?”

Angie stared at Jake and then back at Tony, tears streaming down her stricken, pale face. Almost hysterically, she screamed, “But his name is Jake. Just look at him, look at him, he isn’t Kevin.”

Tony just sneered at her, refusing to listen. Making his way back to the other side of the room, he kneeled on the bed and started crawling toward the terrified girl. When he reached her, he slowly ran his hand up her leg, stroking her exposed flesh.

Angie cried out in cold panic, “No! Please, don’t! Please, don’t…”

Desperately struggling against his bonds, Jake shouted, “Leave her alone, you sick bastard! Get away from her. It’s me you want, so let her go!”

Sighing, Tony left the bed and marched over to the table. He grabbed a roll of duct tape from his bag and roughly covered Jake’s mouth with several strips. Then, deciding to have a touch of fun, he punched the youth in the stomach, hard.

Pain shot through Jake’s entire body. Another blow followed the first, sending a second bolt of red-hot agony coursing through him. Drawing in air through his nostrils, the young man struggled against the blackness that was threatening him for a second time that night.

Tony threw the tape roll across the room and slinked back toward the bed. “Now, there will be no more interruptions, sweetie.”

“Please, don’t do this.” Angie tried to squirm further up the bed.

Tony just crawled after her, leering and licking his lips like he was getting ready for a delicious feast.

Tied to the chair, Jake could do nothing but helplessly stare in wild-eyed horror at what was happening. His heart threatened to explode from his chest, as he struggled frantically with his bonds. His wrists began to bleed, the pain shooting up his arms, but still he was powerless. He felt dizzy and faint, desperately fighting the nausea that threatened to rise up and choke him.

“Come here, my little whore. I bet I can make you squeal,” Tony laughed, as he grabbed Angie’s legs and pulled her down the bed.

The girl struggled fiercely, screaming. Angry, Tony slapped her hard across the face, knocking her backwards. His hand mark showed starkly against her pale cheek. Angie could do nothing against this powerful stranger. She cried harder as he pulled her toward him.

Tony stroked her hair and ran his hand across her throat. “Mmm… lovely. I can taste you from here.”

Jake struggled even harder, trying to shout through the tape. But it was no use; he was too tightly restrained.

“Let’s see how hard I can make you squirm,” Tony teased. “After all, we want to entertain Kevin over there. Don’t want him getting bored, do we?” He laughed out loud at his own joke.

Lowering his head, the killer licked at Angie’s throat, liking the feel of her pulse beating wildly under his tongue. He ran his hands over her breasts, squeezing them painfully until she gasped and cried out, “P-please...”

With one hand traveling up her skirt, Tony looked over at Jake. “See, Kevin, she’s begging me for it.” With that he ripped away Angie’s underwear and set about savagely raping her.

His evil laughter filled the small, vile-smelling room.

***************************

Somewhere, a phone was ringing, pulling him from slumber… Moaning, Starsky blindly reached out from deep under his covers and found the receiver. Dragging it under the blankets, he mumbled sleepily, “This had better be good.”

A disembodied voice spoke urgently, “Starsky, there has been a sighting of your suspect.”

Starsky was wide-awake now. “Who? Where?”

“I said, we’ve had a sighting of your suspect. Are you awake now?”

Recognizing his captain’s impatient voice, the brunet sat up straight. “Yeah, Cap’n. Have you contacted Hutch yet?”

“Yes. He’s on his way there. Get over to the Crescent Motel now!”

Dropping the receiver on the bed, Starsky quickly dressed. Then, he grabbed his key and dashed out the door. With siren wailing and lights blazing, he sent the Torino speeding toward the motel, taking the corners as sharply as he dared. He desperately wanted to get to Hutch.

The curly haired detective arrived at the scene and parked haphazardly, half on the curb. He jumped from the Torino, leaving the driver’s door hanging open.

As he looked about, his cop’s mind took in two things instantly. One was that there were four squad cars lined up out front. The uniformed officers were crouched down low, shielded by their cars, their guns drawn and pointed toward the motel. Dobey, himself, was also on the scene, standing to the side and calling out orders. At the edges of his vision, the brunet noted a small crowd was beginning to gather.

The second thing Starsky noticed was that his partner’s junk heap of a car was parked off to the side. But there was no sign of his partner. Where was Hutch? A chill found its way into the pit of his stomach, and he quickly made his way over to Dobey.

The first words out of his mouth when he came to a halt beside his captain were “Where’s Hutch, Cap’n?”

Dobey turned toward Starsky, looking uncomfortable and shuffling his large form from one foot to another. The detective immediately sensed something bad had happened.

“Starsky, Hutch is in there trying to get our suspect to give himself up.”

“What?! You sent him in there with no backup without me!” Starsky started to pace back and forth, his arms waving as his voice rose. “Has he got his gun? Tell me, has he got his gun or a bullet-proof vest on?”

“Well, no. He went in unarmed.”

Starsky abruptly stopped pacing and turned sharply. He knew Hutch was just doing his job and that he couldn’t wrap him up in cotton wool, but that didn’t stop the brunet from worrying. And, unfortunately for Dobey, it didn’t stop him from taking his frustration out on his boss.

In a low, deadly voice, he ground out: “You let him go in there alone and unarmed? What were you thinking?”

Not happy with one of his own men shouting at him in front of the other officers, Dobey pulled himself to his full height. He snapped back, his voice rising sharply, “I was thinking, Detective Sergeant Starsky, that he was doing his job. We got lucky. The suspect agreed to let someone in, and Hutch was the best one for the job.”

Raising his voice a little higher to emphasize his annoyance, the captain continued, “And… I don’t take kindly to you telling me how to do my job. I’m your superior officer remember that.”

Starsky had the grace to look embarrassed and lowered his head in shame. He knew that he had lost it, but the thought that he could lose Hutch just after they had settled something so important between them was burning him up inside. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m just worried,” he declared.

Dobey knew how tight his best duo was, and he relaxed his stance. Rubbing one chubby hand over his face, he lightly touched Starsky’s shoulder with the other. “He’ll be okay, son. Hutch knows what he’s doing, and if anyone can get them all out alive, he can. We just have to wait and trust him,” he reassured his detective in a much gentler voice.

Starsky knew what his captain was saying was true, but it didn’t stop him from worrying. He hated the idea of waiting helplessly while Hutch was in danger.

**************

Inside the motel room, Hutch was standing beside the bed.

Angie lay huddled on the old mattress, wrapped in a dirty blanket and staring blankly at nothing. All of her clothes were ripped, and her once-beautiful green eyes were red-rimmed from her tears. Her cheek was blue where Tony had hit her, and her neck showed numerous red bite marks. Her entire body was trembling uncontrollably.

The detective glanced down at her, sadness and sorrow overwhelming him. It was hard, because at this moment, all he wanted to do was shoot her sadistic attacker. But Hutch knew he had to act professionally to get them all out alive. Swallowing hard, he walked toward Tony, hands raised in a surrender gesture. He tried to keep his voice neutral as he spoke, “Come on, Tony. Why don’t you let the girl go, at least? You said yourself you hadn’t planned on taking her... and she needs a doctor.”

“No! I want her to know just what sort of person she’s with.”

At Tony’s shout, Angie whimpered and curled tighter into a ball, but she made no other sound.

Keeping his eyes focused straight ahead and his voice soft and calm, Hutch asked, “Just what sort of person is he, Tony? Just look at him now. What harm could he cause you?”

Tony paced the small room like a caged animal, searching for the right words to make these people understand just what he had gone through. Then, he unexpectedly stalked back over to Jake and grabbed his hair, pulling it roughly. He spat violently, the spittle flying in the helpless boy’s face.

“Kevin, here, ruined my life. He and his gang bullied me, shoved me down the fucking stairs, and caused me to break my leg. Would you let them get away with that if it had happened to you?”

Jake closed his eyes tight. He could smell stale smoke and alcohol on his captor’s breath, making him want to vomit. He struggled to keep his nausea under control, afraid of choking.

“He will pay… just as the others did. God is my witness!” Tony released Jake’s hair, only to punch him hard in the stomach.

Tears welled up in the young man’s eyes, and his face flushed with pain.

Hutch stared at the crazed man and his victim for a moment and then said gently, “Tony, please don’t hit him again. Come over here and tell me your story. I’m willing to listen.”

“No, you’re trying to confuse me, trick me into releasing them. Well, it’s not gonna work, cop.”

Hutch slowly started towards Jake, but Tony saw the movement and, with animal-like speed, jumped into the detective’s path. “Get back over there, pig. You’re only here ’cause I let ya in. Kevin’s gotta die. I have to finish my test and punish them all!” Realizing he had said too much, Tony snapped his mouth shut.

Hutch sensed a change in the crazed man and pressed the situation. “What test is that? Who’s testing you, Tony? Can you tell me, or is it a secret?”

The detective suddenly felt the situation starting to fall apart. He had to work quickly, or he could not only lose the two hostages, but could endanger himself, as well and then, what would Starsky do?

Thinking about his partner just knowing he was outside that door made Hutch more determined to resolve the situation as quickly and as safely as he could. He wanted to get back to where he belonged; at Starsky’s side. “Look, Tony. The police are surrounding this motel. You’ve got nowhere to run. Just let the girl go.”

Tony was becoming more agitated by the minute, and Hutch wanted the girl out of the way before he exploded. “It will go a long way toward helping you,” the blond pushed, knowing he was taking a great risk with this volatile man.

“Shut up! Just shut up!” screamed Tony. “You’re messing with my head. I can’t think straight.”

Hutch put his hands up in surrender. Then, more calmly than he felt, he quietly said, “Okay, Tony. You’re in charge here.”

Growing even more agitated, Tony started to pace the floor like a caged tiger. With every step, he banged the knife handle against his forehead and chanted, “I can’t think. I can’t think.” But as soon as Hutch made a move, the killer was on full alert again.

“Tony, please let her go,” the detective pleaded softly. “You still have Kevin and me, don’t you? What do you need her for?”

Swinging around, Tony finally yielded. “Okay, okay. But just to shut you up.” Like a human storm he rushed toward Angie and grabbed her by the arm, making her scream in pain and panic.

In an almost inaudible voice, she begged, “Please, no more. Please.”

“Shut up, you little whore, and be thankful I’m letting you out alive.” Tony pulled the girl off the bed and shoved her toward the door.

Shakily, she looked back at Jake and then Hutch. The detective merely gave her a sad smile and nodded. As Angie opened the door, Hutch shouted, “Hold your fire! The girl’s coming out.”

Angie ran from the room and into the waiting arms of an officer, who assisted her over to where Starsky and Dobey were standing. Starsky jumped in straight away, desperate for information on his partner. “Can you tell us what the situation is in there? The officer who went in; i-is he okay? What weapons does the man have? Where is the other hostage being held?”

Dobey was finally forced to interrupt. The young woman was just standing there, shaking with shock and not hearing Starsky as he bombarded her with questions. “STARSKY! Will you calm down and give the poor girl a chance? She cannot answer all your questions at once,” Dobey barked out. “Someone get this girl a blanket.”

A medic ran forward with a blanket in hand and wrapped it securely around Angie. Helping her to sit down, he started checking her over. Then, he looked up at Dobey, demanding, “This girl needs a hospital, now! Have you finished questioning her?”

The captain looked at the battered young girl and saw that she was starting to fall apart. Angie was obviously trying not to become hysterical, but she was losing the battle. “Yes, of course,” Dobey said. “We can send an officer down with her to get her statement.”

Angie looked at the door her boyfriend was still behind and then back toward Dobey; she shook her head. Speaking for the first time, she stuttered, “P-please, you gotta get Jake out. Please, th-that man, he’s mad! I don’t know why he’s d-doing this. Jake never hurt anyone.”

“That’s what we’re planning on doing, sweetheart,” Starsky said a lot more calmly than he felt. Seeing the condition the girl was in, Starsky felt his panic rising for Hutch’s safety. With unleashed tears of worry barely held in check, the brunet stared at the door Hutch was also behind and softly whispered to himself, “Be careful, Blintz. Stay safe, and come back to me.”
Hutch opened the door, shouting a warning that the girl was coming out. After casting an uncertain look back at her captor and Jake and then towards Hutch Angie tentatively walked out into the crisp, night air. A waiting officer, with a friendly, chubby face, gathered her quickly into his reassuring arms.

Hutch reluctantly closed the door. The soft click of the latch seemed to fill the room, as it firmly locked out the outside world. The reality of that isolation suddenly crashed down around the blond detective, leaving his heart feeling heavy.

Hutch had tried to get a glimpse of Starsky through the open doorway to help him better cope with the situation, but with the blue lights on the police vehicles flashing and so many people running around, he hadn’t been able to see his friend. Although he could feel Starsky was near, he had desperately hoped to see him.

The blond was used to negotiations, but he wasn’t comfortable doing them without his partner there for backup. Starsky had often said that Hutch tried to see the good in everyone and that he was proud to be his partner because of that. But this time around, no matter how hard he tried, Hutch couldn’t find any good in the monster he was confronting. The man was pure evil. Whatever decency he might have once possessed had long since twisted into something unrecognizable. Shaking himself mentally, Hutch tried to rid himself of his uneasy feelings; he knew he had a job to do.

Just for a moment, Hutch allowed himself the luxury of hoping and praying that Angie would be okay. The poor girl had not only been sadistically raped by an evil, twisted monster, but had also been forced to watch as her boyfriend was tied up and systematically beaten half to death. The detective knew that Angie’s only hope of coming out of this with her sanity intact depended on Jake’s survival. Together they would be able to help each other through the aftermath of their frightening ordeal.

Hutch knew that if he and Starsky had been in the same position as the two traumatized teens, he wouldn’t have been able to go on without his friend. Just the sudden thought of Starsky not being in his life sent an icy chill seeping through Hutch’s heart. And the blond knew the feeling was mutual; Starsky depended on him, as well.

Rising panic drove an unexplainable fear through Hutch’s mind and sent a fine tremor racing through his body. Momentarily closing his eyes, he pictured Starsky’s smiling, child-like face, and just as suddenly as it had come, the panic was dispelled. A sensation of warmth spread through the blond. Damn, I need you, Starsky. What the hell am I doing here?

Movement caught with the corner of his eye brought Hutch back to the situation at hand. Turning, he watched as Tony continued to pace the small space of the room, all the while muttering insanely. The man’s body had started shaking violently, and he ran an unsteady hand through his dirty hair. Tony’s eyes almost seemed to glow red with his insanity, and Hutch felt his throat turn dry. He could see that the deranged man was on the edge of loosing complete control, and he knew things would likely end badly.

“Gotta finish my test. Gotta finish my test,” Tony kept repeating.

Hutch listened to the insane babble, aware that he had to do something soon to rectify the situation; he couldn’t afford to mess this up. The pressure of responsibility on his shoulders made him dizzy.

Trying to regain some self-control, Hutch drew in a deep, shuddering breath and let it out slowly. Then, he carefully moved forward, ready to start part two of his plan and get the kid out unhurt. The detective was determined the crazed killer would never hurt anyone again. He would make sure of that. Tony would be arrested or killed; either way worked for Hutch. This ends tonight.

Summoning up his most soothing voice, Hutch finally ventured, “That’s good, Tony. That’s very good. Now, how ’bout you untie the boy? He isn’t going anywhere.”

Tony turned sharply toward the blond and snarled, “Oh, no you don’t! I see what you’re doing, but it’s not gonna work.” The venom in the killer’s voice dripped heavily from his tongue.

Hutch tried to counteract that snarl, keeping his own voice calm as he pushed further. “Why, Tony? He can’t hurt you. And he needs to lie down… The boy is hurt.”

“I don’t care.” Tony screamed, eyes flashing with madness.

With a heartrending look, Hutch turned to Jake, feeling helplessness and despair wash over him. Sneering, Tony followed Hutch’s gaze over to the stricken youth.

Jake sat slumped in the hard chair Tony had restrained him in when they had first arrived at the hotel. His head lolled to the right, and his skin was a sickly, ashen color. A fine sheen of sweat covered his face. Blood dripped from his mouth, and his breath came in short spurts.

Unaffected by Jake’s condition, Tony just kept muttering, his voice rising as his frustration mounted. “He has to die. Don’t you understand that? Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said?” He stared first at Jake and then at Hutch.

Raising his hands to show that he was no threat to the volatile man, Hutch spoke, “Yes, Tony. I do understand. But it’s wrong to take out your anger on the innocent. Can’t you see that?”

Tony continued to rant, as if Hutch hadn’t spoken, “Have you ever had a dream you desperately wanted to come true, only to have it knocked out your reach, just snatched away from you?”

Throughout his years as a homicide detective, Hutch had heard many excuses for why people had chosen to commit violent crimes against their fellow men. And he had always been frustrated with those individuals who refused to take responsibility for their own actions. Now, that frustration showed in his retort: “Tony, lots of people have their dreams knocked away. They just brush themselves off and start new ones. It makes you a stronger person.”

The crazed man stopped his pacing and suddenly invaded the blond’s space. Jabbing a finger into Hutch’s face, Tony raised his voice, “You don’t know nothin’, cop! What would you know, huh?” He looked the detective up and down with obvious contempt. “You look like you’ve gotten everything you’ve ever wanted. Bet daddy’s help and money got you this far.”

A rush of anger took hold of Hutch, who tried to breathe through it. Tony had no idea what he was talking about. The blond had had to fight every step of the way to build the life he had, but he wasn’t going to waste time now trying to justify himself to some lunatic.

Tony resumed pacing the dingy room. His hands still clutched the long, bone-handled knife. Watching him, Hutch decided it was finally time to push the madman just a smidgen further, even though it would be dangerous. The unstable man could turn on him or Jake any second. But time was running out fast, and Hutch knew he had to get the boy some help soon.

“I do know that this boy needs to go to the hospital. Why don’t you just let him lie down for now? Please, Tony! Come on.”

Tony turned his dead, uncaring eyes toward Jake, who still sat slumped in the chair. The boy’s head was hanging down, and a soft whimper escaped his pale lips whenever the pain in his stomach grew too much for him.

By now, Hutch had had enough of waiting around. In an ideal world, the criminal would have given up already, handing over his weapon without a fight. But this wasn’t an ideal world, and the blond knew he would have to work hard to get Tony to surrender. Slowly, he began to move toward the killer. “No, Tony,” he said quietly, “I don’t know what you’ve gone through. But I do know that this kid hasn’t done anything wrong. Look at him; take a good look at him! He’s just a terrified boy. Why would you want to hurt him? He didn’t do the things you say were done to you. He’s innocent.”

Tony turned his face to his victim, and Hutch decided to push his advantage. “He’s not the reason you’re here. It’s your problem, Tony. Why involve innocent people in your problems?”

Tony was still staring at Jake; he never noticed the detective slowly edging near him as he spoke.

“So, you had a shitty upbringing,” Hutch continued, “and things didn’t go according to plan. Well, that’s life. Others have had just as bad a start, but they work at it, change their hopes and dreams, live with it and make their lives better. You’re just wallowing in self-pity, taking it out on the world and those poor kids. It’s time to grow up, Tony, to face the music and what you’ve done.”

Instantly, Hutch found himself the object of Tony’s rage, as the killer whirled around and advanced on him step by step. The man’s shoulders were hunched, and his face was red with anger.

The knife still clutched in his trembling hand, Tony started to growl. His voice sounded almost inhuman; his eyes looked glazed over. Then, with a loud yell, he flew towards Hutch.

The blond’s survival instincts kicked in automatically. He managed to deflect the knife away from his body, using the other’s momentum to push Tony into the wall.

Although his head made contact with the wall, the crazed killer remained undeterred. He screamed, but seemed to recover much more quickly than Hutch would have thought possible. He lunged at Hutch again, pushing the detective with almost superhuman strength into the opposite wall and knocking the wind out of him.

Struggling to catch his breath, Hutch reached out to grab at Tony’s hand, which was wielding the blade mere inches away. Although he caught the killer’s sleeve, somehow the weapon still found its mark, slicing into his unprotected arm like a warm knife through butter.

Hutch let out a cry, as he felt pain shoot up his arm and through his entire body like a white-hot fire. Knowing from experience that the blade had gone in deep, he could only hope it hadn’t done too much damage. Fervently he prayed that he would get out of that dirty motel room alive.

Seeing that Hutch was stunned, Tony pushed his advantage and shoved him to the floor. The blond landed hard on his back, causing stars to flash before his eyes for a moment. Before he could recover, the killer was on him again, shouting obscenities and punching the vulnerable detective in the stomach.

Hutch knew he wasn’t far from blacking out. Pain was piercing his skull, and lights were flashing before him. Then, the room abruptly started to spin, and he felt sick.

His heart racing, Hutch thought, this can’t be happening. How did things get so out of hand so quickly? This is all wrong. Tony should be dying, not me! Isn’t the good guy always supposed to win?

A moment later, an image of Starsky flashed through his mind, standing out in the lot, the door between them. And Hutch knew that if he died, his partner would blame himself. Moreover, he’d be mad at Hutch for going into the motel room without talking it through first.

I’m sorry, Starsk! Please forgive me. I’ll always love you.

Suddenly, Hutch felt adrenaline rush through his veins. Catching his second wind, he managed to roll over, pinning Tony beneath him. Now he was the one on top!

Landing two hard blows to Tony’s jaw, the blond tried desperately to clamber up and reach the door. If he could only reach it, he could shout for backup.
But Tony recovered quickly. He jumped Hutch again. The blond was losing blood at an alarming rate, and Tony pulled him back down with ease.

Leaning in so close that Hutch could smell his rotten breath, Tony said angrily, “No way, pig! I’m gonna kill him, and you can’t stop me. Then, I’m gonna kill you too.” An uneven laugh escaped the madman’s lips.

Fear rose in Hutch’s throat. He knew if he blacked out now, he was a dead man. His mouth went suddenly very dry, and he couldn’t find his voice to try to reason with Tony or even to shout for the help waiting just outside the door. Only a wheezing squeak emerged.

Fast losing his fight to stay awake, the blond continued to struggle, but Tony seemed to grow stronger as Hutch grew frustratingly weaker. The battle for survival was coming to an end, and Hutch knew he would be the loser. Then a familiar noise cut through the confusion in his head. Was that Starsky’s Beretta he’d just heard?

************

As Hutch slowly came to, the first thing he noticed was the smell of antiseptic. Okay, he was in hospital; so somehow he’d made it out of the motel room alive. The next thing to hit his senses was a sharp pain in his arm. Even the slightest movement sent red-hot fires shooting through his body.

Hutch gasped and moaned softly. Then, with his eyes still closed, he turned his head to one side. Somehow, he sensed that someone was standing next to his bed, and he didn’t have to open his eyes to know who that person was. Inwardly smiling, he started to reach out just before a warm hand wrapped itself around his own. The touch relaxed him, making him feel safe.

Then, a soft, familiar whisper caressed his ear, making him shudder. “Welcome back, Babe. You scared me.”

Hutch decided it was time to face the owner of that soothing voice. Fluttering his pale eyelids open, he found Starsky leaning over him, concern in his deep-blue eyes. When he tried to speak, however, Hutch found he couldn’t. His throat felt dry and rusty, like someone had put cotton balls in it. All that would come out was a rough croak. So, putting on a brave front, he swallowed painfully and tried again. “Tony?”

Starsky smiled down at his caring partner. Then, without the slightest remorse, he said, “Dead. I put him out of his misery. No one hurts my partner and gets away with it.”

The brunet beamed, and Hutch smiled back. He knew where Starsky was coming from. He would have done the same thing in his partner’s shoes.

But Hutch had to know about the boy, too; so he risked one more shot at talking. “Jake?”

“He’s going to be okay because of you. You saved both their lives,” Starsky grinned proudly. “Now, rest. The doc says you’re going to be here a few days. You lost a lot of blood and got 30 stitches. And that knife must’ve been dirty, ‘cos you picked up an infection. That arm is going to be useless for a while. Good job you got me, Blondie.”

Hutch moaned, but gave his friend a shy smile; then, before sleep claimed him, he whispered, “Love you.”

“I love you, too,” Starsky managed through a throat tight with emotion.

**************

As the hospital room fell into darkness, Starsky sat down in the hard chair to watch over his sleeping partner. His mind wandered back to the events of just a few hours ago. Thinking about it now, he couldn’t seem to remember running over to the door and kicking it down. One minute, he’d been standing next to Captain Dobey, and the next, he’d been inside the room…

The horrifying sight that greeted Starsky scared the hell out of him. Hutch was lying on his back, covered in blood. His eyes held pain, and he looked as if he were tiring in his fight against the madman. Tony was straddling the blond, effectively pinning him in place as he screamed and waved a large knife dangerously close to Hutch’s face.

For only one second more was Tony on top of Hutch. The next moment, he was knocked sideways by the force of the bullet that hit him. After the shooting went down, the blond remained immobile, eyes closed. Starsky himself stood rigid, unable to move, too scared. Blood seemed to be everywhere, and the smell of it filled his nostrils.

A moan and a slow turn of the blond’s head brought Starsky back to his senses. He ran to Hutch’s side, falling to his knees. Shakily, Starsky reached out his hand to touch Hutch’s forehead. Then, the brunet gathered his friend up on his lap and cradled him in his arms.

“We made it, partner.”

“S-Starsk?”

“Yeah, I’m here. I got ya, buddy.”

Hutch gulped and gave a wry smile. “Made it, partner.” Then, he succumbed to the overwhelming impulse to slump into darkness, knowing he was safe in his partner’s arms.

The room was silent, and Starsky listened to the noises from the hall. A gurney was wheeled by, emitting a small squeak from its hard wheels. Footsteps hurried back and forth, while quiet whispers filtered through the door.

A moan from the bed brought Starsky shifting forward in his seat. “Hey, partner!”

“Starsk, what happened to Tony?”

Starsky frowned before the realization hit him that Hutch was probably too out of it to remember what he’d been told earlier. So, the brunet simply placed his hand on his friend’s leg, squeezing it gently for his own reassurance that Hutch was alive and safe. He then filled him in on what had happened.

Hutch, for his part, tried to take the information in again before falling back to sleep.

*************************

Sighing loudly to the empty hospital room, Hutch sat on the bed and stared out the window. Feelings of depression settled over him, as he wondered if he would ever get out of that sterile, white place. Before he could sigh again, the door to the room suddenly flew open, and an excited Starsky came rushing in. The brunet was waving papers about, as if he had just discovered a well-hidden secret and had to tell Hutch.

“I just sprung ya, Blondie. You’re going home today.”

The smile Hutch flashed his friend could’ve lit up the entire hospital. “That’s great, Gordo. How’d you manage that?”

Starsky skidded to a halt beside the bed and placed his hand on Hutch’s covered knee. “I just turned on my charm and flashed my best smile. ‘Sides, it didn’t hurt for me to tell them that you’d have a babysitter 24 hours a day keeping an eye on ya. We’re gonna go away for a while. I wangled four days off to help you out. We got some explorin’ to do, and I want you all to myself.”

Hutch looked at Starsky from under his pale lashes, a shy smile creeping across his face. “Sounds great, Starsk. Can’t wait.”

The partners’ eyes locked, and each man was lost for a long moment, as they fell deeply into a new kind of love. This would be an exciting new turn in their lives!

The door opened, breaking the spell. Starsky jumped backwards guiltily, but the entering nurse seemed unaware of her intrusion on their special moment. She walked over to the bed and, with a pleasant smile, started checking Hutch’s vitals. The routine action brought the partners back to the present, making them remember where they were.

Coughing to clear his throat, Starsky quickly stuffed the discharge paperwork into Hutch’s hands. “I’ll go and sort things… err, out. You get dressed when this pretty, little thing’s finished with ya, okay? And I’ll come back for you.” Turning, he dashed out of the room. He could feel a hot flush creeping up his neck, and his pants were tightly stretched across his hardening member.

Hutch rolled his eyes as he watched Starsky leave. Then, just as he was about to explain his partner’s hurried exist, a thermometer was thrust into his mouth. He felt the nurse take his wrist to check his pulse.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” the astute woman said quietly. “When a person’s been doing this job as long as I have, she learns to tell when someone’s in love. And, well… it’s obvious you two are very much with each other. I’ve seen so much death; it’s nice to see love.”

The nurse finished up, tapping Hutch gently on his good arm, and smiled. “You’re secret’s safe with me, Ken. I won’t tell anyone.” Then, she left him alone to ponder his new worries.

He had to try to sort out things before his human tornado of a friend came bounding back. So, slowly and painfully, Hutch eased his long legs over the side of the bed. He let them dangle, while he continued to stare out the window.

Great! Why do you have to keep thinking, Hutchinson? Why can’t you just accept what’s happening and enjoy it? Because you think too much, that’s why.

What if someone finds out? Well… it could cost us our lives our jobs! Starsky could find a lady… I don’t know if I’d be strong enough to let go.

Hutch was so deep in thought that he didn’t hear the door open. Suddenly, he felt Starsky’s hand resting on his shoulder. The fingers started to massage, gradually working their way up to the nape of his neck. Hutch closed his eyes, leaned back into the touch and sighed as Starsky spoke: “You’re tense. What’s wrong?”

“Mmm… Nothing, now that you’re here.”

“That’s good, because I’m never leaving you. So, spill… What’s wrong?”

Hutch knew he couldn’t pull the wool over his observant partner’s eyes. Sighing again and rubbing his face with one hand, he decided that only the truth would be accepted. “Starsk, she knows.”

Frowning, Starsky wondered just what he had missed while he’d been away. His face must have given away his confusion, because Hutch immediately clarified his point. Looking around the room as if it were filled with ears, he said in a hushed, nervous whisper, “The nurse knows about us.” The blond waved his finger between them, hoping to seal his meaning without any further need for words.

“Oh, I see. Okay… So?” A laugh creeping into his voice, Starsky sat down on the edge of the bed beside Hutch. His partner was staring at him wide-eyed.

He slid an arm around Hutch’s slim waist and squeezed gently. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t care. I love you, and I want to shout it from the rooftop.”

Hutch smiled evilly. “Err... Starsk, I wouldn’t recommend it. You don’t like heights, remember?”

The brunet lightly punched him in the arm. “Very funny! You know what I mean, Blondie.”

Starsky helped his friend dress and pack up. As they waited for Hutch’s wheelchair to arrive, they talked quietly. Starsky never removed his arm.

“So, if you don’t care, why the hasty retreat when the nurse came in?”

“What can I say? I’m not perfect.”

“You are to me, Starsk. You are to me.”

Notes:

This orphaned work was originally on Pejas WWOMB posted by author Davids Kaz.
If this work is yours and you would like to reclaim ownership, you can click on the Technical Support and Feedback link at the bottom fo the page.

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