So I've kind of been on a Starsky and Hutch kick lately XD I'm really enjoying writing for this fandom.

I borrowed the plot for this story a little from the Supernatural episode "Red Meat"

In the Woods

A Starsky & Hutch Fanfic

While rescuing kidnapped hikers in the woods, Hutch takes a bullet. Starsky is torn between his duty to get the victims to safety and his vow not to leave his partner—until an unexpected enemy makes the decision for him…

Part One

The cabin was innocuous. Just one of the ones you rented when you wanted to take a weekend fishing up in the woods. Starsky was not entirely fond of those kinds of vacations, especially considering how the last one he and Hutch had tried to take had gone, and their current case had just solidified that opinion for him.

"This looks like it," Hutch murmured as they viewed the cabin from the safety of the trees.

They'd been hunting a drug ring for over two weeks now, and finally got a tip that they kept their supply of the stuff for distribution in a cabin up in the woods. After two hikers had gone missing in the same area, their suspicions had only been confirmed and Starsky and Hutch had gone up to make the arrest.

Only problem was their backup would take way too long to get there, and their car, including their radio was parked a few miles back at the end of the trail, no other way to get up to the cabin but walking.

"Are we doing this?" Starsky asked, pulling out his gun and checking the clip.

Hutch's lips pressed into a thin line, contemplating. "We know where they are now. We should go back to the car and call in backup. We don't know how many are in there."

As soon as he said that, a woman's scream came from the cabin, and the two detectives looked at each other.

"The hikers," Hutch said.

"Well, there's our answer," Starsky said as he cocked his gun and the two hurried out of the woods. "You take the back."

Hutch nodded and split off to run around the cabin to hit it from behind. Starsky crept up onto the porch, and paused with his back against the doorjamb before he raised his gun and spun to kick the door in.

He only had a second to process the scene. Two men, both with knives in their hands, were looming over a couple who had been tied up, hands bound abobe their heads and feet barely touching the floor. One of the drug dealers was moving to cut the woman down, and the man was struggling frantically, pleading with him as the woman sobbed.

"Hey! Police!" Starsky shouted.

The men turned around in an instant, and launched themselves at Starsky. He was so surprised by the sudden move, since bad guys usually ran instead of charged you, that he let himself be thrown to the ground, hitting his elbow as his gun flew from his hand.

Hutch was in the fray now, grabbing the second goon by the back of the coat and flinging him away, but not before he had his own gun kicked from his hand.

Starsky stopped the man's knife from stabbing him in the throat and, rolled, getting the man under him but only for a second. The man was bigger and stronger and he got his foot up and into Starsky's stomach, kicking him back to where he crashed into a table, the piece of furniture splintering upon impact.

Winded, he lay dazed as the man grabbed him by the front of his coat and flung him against the wall. Starsky went down again and a heavy steel-toed boot slammed into his side. He cried out, feeling at least one rib crack, but the pain got him out of his daze and he kicked out the next time the goon raised his foot and knocked his feet from under him.

The man fell to the ground, but scrambled away, reaching for a gun that was sitting to one side. Starsky grabbed him by the back of his shirt and hauled him back just as the man's fingers wrapped around the gun.

"Drop it!" Starsky demanded, diving for his own gun and coming up with it pointed at the man.

The man smirked, and turned the weapon on the two prisoners.

Starsky squeezed the trigger and hit the man in the chest. His eyes blew wide and he collapsed backwards.

Starsky rushed forward, kicking the gun away from the man, as a second shot rang out.

He turned swiftly and froze. Instead of seeing Hutch holding his gun up, he saw his partner with empty hands, staggering slowly backwards as blood blossomed on his shirt. The other goon knelt on the floor, holding Hutch's own gun up.

"Hutch!" Starsky screamed and unloaded a quick double tap into the goon before he could shoot again. He was then across the room in a second just as Hutch collapsed completely. Hutch crashed to his knees and began to tip to one side, but Starsky grabbed his shoulders, lowering him more gently onto his back.

"Hey, hey," Starsky said, practically pleading with his partner to be okay.

Hutch clutched at his stomach where the blood was seeping, jaw clenched as a groan escaped from between his gritted teeth. The initial shock of the wound was quickly wearing off and the pain was setting in.

"Let me see it, huh?" Starsky murmured, gripping Hutch's wrist, swallowing down his terror at the sight of all the blood. His partner's blood. Oh god…

"Hey!"

The male hiker called out behind them and Starsky spun around, eyes flashing.

"Give me a minute, will ya?" he snapped.

"A minute? We've been here two days! My wife is hurt!" the man challenged. "You're cops, right?"

Starsky saw red. "You blind? I've got a partner with a bullet in 'im! Give me a second!"

"St-Starsk," Hutch gritted out, gripping Starsky's wrist. "Go get them down. I got this for a second."

Starsky clenched his jaw, but he knew Hutch was right. They had to slow the bleeding before anything. He swiftly yanked his leather jacket off, then his over shirt, which he folded to press against Hutch's wound, taking his partner's hand and pressing it firmly over the makeshift pad. "Hold that, okay? I'll get you taken care of in a tick."

Hutch nodded jerkily, trying to force a wavering smile. Starsky patted his cheek then hurried over to the hikers, pulling out a knife and swiftly cutting them down. The woman practically collapsed in his arms, sobbing and clutching his shirt.

"Thank you," she murmured.

Starsky gently handed her over to her husband and led them both over to the couch to sit down. "I'll get you help in a minute okay? We'll call an ambulance to meet us down at the end of the path."

"Wait," the man said before Starsky could go back to Hutch. "There's another man in that closet."

"What?" Starsky asked in surprise.

"Yeah, another prisoner. They dragged him in here when they came back to the cabin."

Starsky cursed under his breath and went over to the closet, shoving through the door. Sure enough, there was a man bound hand and foot, and gagged, propped in one corner of the room. Starsky swiftly knelt to cut his ropes.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked.

The man tore the gag from his mouth. "Yeah, now I am. Thanks."

"Okay, get out there with the others, we'll be leaving as soon as I take care of my partner."

"Wait, what?" the man demanded, suddenly grabbing Starsky's arm to hold him back.

The detective had to fight the urge to shove him off. He glowered at the man. "You got a problem or something?"

"Yeah I got a problem! This was a five-man operation. There's more guys out there and they're on their way with more stuff, probably now! We can't waste any time getting back!"

"Yeah, and my partner's not going anywhere with a bullet in his gut, so you can just wait a minute!" Starsky told him, turning his back and looking around the cabin for a first aid kit.

"Look, see if you can find a phone or radio, call in an ambulance," Starsky said to the man as he looked under the cupboard in the kitchenette and finally located a first aid kit. He sighed in relief and grabbed it, hurrying back to Hutch.

"How you doin', huh?" he asked his partner gently.

Hutch was pale and sweat was beading on his brow. He opened his eyes and snorted. "Terrific," he choked out.

"Well, I hate to say this, but we've gotta get that bullet out," Starsky said, opening the kit and seeing what it had to offer before he turned back to Hutch and saw with increasing worry how much blood had seeped through the shirt under Hutch's pale hand.

He carefully removed the blonde's hand and the pad and unzipped Hutch's jacket before he pushed up his shirt, finally revealing the bullet hole.

"Will you look at that," he said with a desperate grin. "It's just a little one. Way you were going on thought it would be the size of a baseball."

Hutch huffed, but his body clenched through a spasm of pain, eyes tightly shut, muscles taut. Starsky gripped his shoulder and knee, keeping him still, swallowing hard as he tried to hold back his worry. "Hold on, buddy. Just hold on, okay?"

"Hey, there's no phone in here!" the man said desperately as he came up to Starsky.

"No radio or anything?" Starsky asked, hardly glancing up.

"No! We've gotta get out of here!"

"Hey! Calm down," Starsky snapped at him.

The hiker spoke up from the couch where he was holding his wife. "Th-there's a ranger station about a mile and a half down. They should have a radio there."

"Great, let's go," the man said, already halfway out the door.

Desperate, and without another option, Starsky grabbed his gun and pointed it at the man. "Hey, you're not going anywhere! We leave this cabin together or not at all, understand?"

"What part of drug dealers with guns coming here do you not understand?" the man demanded.

"Hey, I get it, but we're a team now, and we don't leave anyone behind. Got that?" Starsky demanded, then softened, trying to remember he was dealing with victims here and it wasn't their fault. Not their fault that Hutch had been shot. "What's your name?" he amended.

The man shifted before replying. "Carl."

"Okay, Carl. I'm Starsky. Now sit down in that chair and wait until I get this bullet out of my partner, okay?"

The man still glowered at him, looking between Starsky and the two hikers before he sat in one of the chairs from the table that hadn't been turned over or destroyed in the fight.

Starsky turned back to Hutch now.

"Hey," he said gently, leaning over his partner to try and get his attention while he fumbled with the clip from his gun. "You ready?"

Hutch grunted. "No."

"Good," Starsky smiled. "If the pain gets too bad, just bite the bullet, huh?"

Hutch breathed out with a shaky chuckle. "I might just take you up on that this time."

Starsky forced a smile and patted the other man on the cheek before slipping a bullet between his teeth. Hutch gratefully bit down.

"This other one we'll save for fond memories—you can make a necklace out of it. What d'ya say?" Starsky asked as he turned back to the med kit, grabbing a pair of forceps.

"Hey, anyone got a lighter?"

The male hiker glanced at the wreckage from the overturned table and kicked one across the floor to Starsky.

"Thanks," he muttered darkly, flicking it several times before it lit and waved the forceps through the flame. "Hey, what are your names?" he asked as he worked.

The hiker swallowed hard. "I'm Peter, this is my wife, Carol."

"Alright, well, I'm Dave Starsky and this is Ken Hutchinson, but you've caught him on one of his worse days. We'll get you out of here, I promise."

Carl snorted under his breath again, but Starsky ignored him, instead turning back to Hutch and putting the wadded up shirt aside again.

"You know what you're doing?" Hutch grunted around the bullet between his teeth.

"Oh, y'know, I picked up a few things from my time in the army," Starsky said as blithely as possible.

"Great," Hutch muttered, letting his head fall back against the floor.

"Just hold on, huh? I'll try to be quick about it," Starsky said softly as he grabbed a swatch of gauze and wiped some of the blood away from the wound so he could see, causing Hutch to shudder and his muscles to tense at the pain. Hopefully the bullet hadn't gone too deep.

"Okay, this is probably gonna hurt. A lot," Starsky warned.

"You need to work on your bedside manner, nurse," Hutch growled then tensed as Starsky wasted no more time slipping the forceps into the wound. His hand lashed out and latched onto Starsky's belt, gripping tightly.

"Easy, easy," Starsky muttered, trying to remind himself to breathe. He pressed his free hand against Hutch's shoulder, holding him still, but his partner's heels still dug into the ground, and a horrible groan escaped his throat. Starsky wondered wryly if he'd simply bite through the bullet.

"Come on, come on," he muttered as he delicately probed the wound, and finally felt the clink of metal against the forceps. Saying a swift prayer, he latched onto the bullet, thankfully not too deep, and pulled it out.

Hutch cried out, and spit the bullet to one side before collapsing limply against the floor.

Starsky tossed the forceps down onto some gauze and grabbed some more to press against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. "There we go, all done! That wasn't so bad, huh?"

"Speak…for…yourself," Hutch gasped.

Starsky rubbed his chest gently to try and calm him, before adding more gauze and taping it down.

"Are we ready yet?" Carl demanded.

Starsky spun around, instantly regretting it as his injured ribs twinged. "Hey, cool it, would ya? My partner can't move, we gotta figure this out."

"And in the meantime those other drug dealers will be coming back!" Carl said.

Peter nodded. "I agree with him. We need to get out of here. My wife needs a hospital and so does your partner."

A grunt and sounds of movement had Starsky turning back around to see Hutch sitting up, one hand pressed to his stomach, as he fought to get his knees under him.

Starsky grabbed his shoulder. "Hey, where do you think you're going?"

"I'm good," Hutch said in a very unconvincing way, sweat breaking out on his face.

"Yeah, you're terrific," Starsky muttered.

"Still look better than you," Hutch snorted fondly. "Let's go."

Starsky cursed and grabbed his jacket, tugging it back on before he helped his idiot partner to his feet. Hutch could barely stand and panted for a long moment before he leaned heavily on Starsky's shoulders and took a shaky step forward. Starsky's injured ribs were already protesting the weight, but he wasn't about to let on.

"I guess we're going," Starsky muttered, rolling his eyes.

Carl was already out the door and Peter was helping his wife up. She was a bit wobbly but was doing better than Hutch.

It was already getting dark, and that didn't bode well for their chances of finding the ranger station, but it seemed like both Carl and Peter apparently knew where it was.

Starsky hated taking up the rear, but Hutch was setting such a slow pace and Peter and Carl seemed to know where they were going so he supposed he would let them lead the way. He had other things to worry about at the moment.

Hutch continued to get heavier and heavier against him and Starsky cast worried glances toward him, trying to offer as much support as possible.

And then finally Hutch faltered and Starsky stopped, grabbing hold of his partner's arm as Hutch doubled over with a bitten-off moan, fighting to stay upright, his legs quivering.

"Hutch. Hey, come on buddy," Starsky nearly pleaded, gripping his arm tight, his other hand bracing the blonde's chest.

Hutch huffed a few breaths through his nose before he attempted to straighten again, hand pressed to his stomach. "I'm good. I'm good." Then a wry smirk. "Dammit, Starsky, I told you that greasy diner food was a bad idea." He snorted a laugh, which ended in a choking sound.

Starsky's hand found Hutch's back and rubbed soothingly. "Hey, that food was terrific. Don't blame it. But I'll let you choose the next place once we get out of here, 'kay?"

"Anything I want?" Hutch asked weakly, bravely attempting to play along.

"Anything," Starsky promised.

"Would you two come on?" Carl cried, already several yards ahead.

"Please, my wife," Peter added, practically holding the woman upright as she sagged further.

"Alright, alright," Starsky growled.

"Hey," Hutch squeezed his arm. "Easy on them. They're scared."

Starsky shook his head, but didn't reply. He was pretty damn scared himself. He simply wrapped Hutch's arm around his shoulders again, and secured his arm around Hutch's waist, steering him forward and if Hutch leaned a little more heavily against him, Starsky pretended not to notice.

Thankfully, they saw the ranger station before too long. Carl ran ahead and kicked in the door. Peter followed with Carol. Starsky was a little slower, getting Hutch up the steps.

"Okay, one at a time," he murmured encouragingly. "You can do it."

Hutch let out a groan as he forced his leg up and somehow found the strength to push himself onto the next step, while gripping Starsky's jacket tightly. Starsky grit his own teeth as the pressure wreaked havoc on his ribs, but Hutch didn't know about his injury, being a little preoccupied, so he would forgive the man this time.

"Hey, we found a radio!" Peter called out to them.

"Terrific," Starsky sighed in relief as they made it inside the dark building. "Let's find some lights now."

He propped Hutch against the large front desk, and looked around before finding two lanterns that thankfully still had some oil in them.

"Matches," he called, discovering a box on the table and lighting the two lanterns, taking one over to where Carl was working on the radio.

"Dammit," the man growled. "The signal's bad up here."

"Let me try," Starsky said, fiddling with the dial until the crackling turned into something more intelligible. "Hello? Hello?"

A voice replied through the static on the other end and Starsky pressed the radio receiver against his forehead in relief. "Thank God. This is Detective Sergeant David Starsky, I need an ambulance at the River Park trailhead."

"Sir, speak…breaking…p"

"I need an ambulance at River Park trailhead!" Starsky shouted.

"An ambulance?...Park…head?"

"Yes!" Starsky really hoped his message was getting through.

"Ten-four that's…" The static took over again and the signal was lost.

Starsky slammed the receiver down in frustration. "Well, let's hope enough of that got through to help."

Carl had been pacing the entire time, biting his nails. Starsky shook his head and turned toward Peter and Carol, crouching down beside the chair Peter and installed his wife in.

"How is she doing?" Starsky asked.

Peter gave him a tight-lipped look. "She's not doing well. Neither of us have eaten or drunk anything for over a day."

Kicking himself for not thinking of that earlier, Starsky looked around until he found some jugs of water and protein bars, handing them out. He went over to Hutch last with some water. The blond detective was hunched over, using the counter to prop himself up, but refused to sit down.

"Thirsty?" he asked quietly.

Hutch was still horribly pale and sweating and Starsky wondered if he might be going into shock. But he shook his head at the offer of water. "Not right now. Don't know if it will stay down."

Starsky felt sick himself at that thought. He didn't like not knowing just how much damage that bullet had done inside. It hadn't been stuck in too deep, but a gutshot was never good and could cause all kinds of internal damage.

He reached out and squeezed his partner's shoulder. "Come on, why doncha sit down?"

Hutch shook his head, even as his face creased from a spasm of pain. "Nah. Won't be able to get back up again." He looked up and glowered at Carl who still hadn't stopped pacing. "Hey, can you sit down?" he demanded.

Carl spun around toward them. "We need to keep moving! If we're not at the trailhead by the time the ambulance gets there, we may miss them all together! It's another two miles."

"In a minute!" Starsky said.

"No way, those thugs are still out there too, we need to go now!" Carl demanded, then added more quietly, "Those of us who can, anyway."

Starsky was on him in a second, ignoring Hutch's warning as he grabbed Carl by the front of his shirt. "What did you say?"

"Look, the lady's sick but she can still walk," Carl said, then jabbed a finger at Hutch. "He's slowing us down, and I'm not gonna get caught just because some cop took a bullet."

"Hey, we saved your lousy hide," Starsky snapped, shaking him. "I told you before, we go together or not at all!"

"Then I guess we all die!" Carl snapped.

Carol whimpered and Starsky glanced over to see Peter looking torn.

"Starsk," Hutch grunted and Starsky turned to his partner, trying to swallow his desperation. "Look, he's right."

"Are you kidding me right now?" Starsky demanded, releasing the punk and turning back toward the injured detective.

Hutch cringed, folding over farther, propping himself up against the desk with his forearms. "Come on, Starsky, you know what he's saying is true, I'll slow you down. I'm not gonna make it two more miles. Get them out of here, you'll be quicker without me. You can come back as soon as you get them to the ambulance."

"You're the one I called it for, you dummy!" Starsky snapped. "And if you think I'm leaving you here when there's still drug dealers out there, you're even stupider than I took you for. No." He turned back to Carl and Peter, jabbing his finger at them. "I'm gonna make a litter and we are going to carry him out together. Got that?"

Carl and Peter were both silent, but Carl's eyes bore into Starsky's, anger obvious in the clench of his jaw.

Starsky ignored him and went over to Hutch, squeezing his shoulder and leaning in close so only he could hear. "I'm not gonna leave you, blondie, so you can forget it. You hear me?"

Hutch huffed, sagging even further, but nodded. "Yeah, fine."

Starsky squeezed the back of his neck gently in reassurance before he went to retrieve the axe he had seen under the desk and hurried outside into the night.

The moon was full, at least giving him something to see by and Starsky cast around for the right kind of branches. He found two long, straight ones just on the ground and started hacking several more off nearby trees to make the litter stable.

His broken ribs ached until he could barely breathe, but he welcomed the pain, working out his anger and his terror with the axe.

Why did going into the woods always turn out so bad for them? At least they didn't have a Satanic cult to deal with this time. But it hadn't been long enough ago that he had almost lost Hutch to the plague, and now he'd gotten his partner shot in the middle of nowhere and they still had no idea whether help was even coming or not.

He furiously hacked at the current branch until he realized he'd cut halfway through the small tree. He gasped for breath, doubling over with his hands on his knees as he gulped in air, trying to calm himself, feeling like someone was stabbing him in the side. He couldn't lose it now. Hutch was counting on him as were those ungrateful civilians in there.

He swallowed and blinked back the wetness in his eyes before he went back to work with more precision and less rage-filled violence.

All he wanted right now was to get his partner out of these woods alive.

Hutch tried to take deep breaths to keep himself steady, but the pain radiating from his middle was getting worse and worse by the second and he could no longer find the strength to stand. He finally sunk down behind the counter, jarring his wound as his legs collapsed at the last minute, barely biting back a whimper. He pressed both hands to his stomach, feeling the blood seeping through the bandages, slicking his hands. He took a shuddering breath.

Carl was still pacing and chewing his nails. Hutch figured him for an addict, but there was something oddly familiar about him and he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was just the blood loss talking.

Speaking of, if those other drug dealers did catch up to them, he wasn't going to be much good in a fight, and that left Starsky with four people to protect and really no way to move quickly.

"Guys," he gasped out, craning his head around the side of the desk to look at the others. "Hey. Go find Starsky. Convince him to go. He's right, you need to get out of here."

Carl spun around. "Yeah, we would, except he's not gonna listen."

"I'll try," Peter said, standing up.

Carl grabbed his arm to stop him and hissed, "You heard him—he's not gonna leave without his partner." His voice hushed even more. "So… we gotta make sure he has no choice."

"What are you talking about?" Peter hissed back, yanking his arm out of Carl's grasp.

Hutch was barely paying attention to the conversation, or at least it wasn't registering. He was too busy concentrating on trying to stay conscious, which was becoming more and more of a task. Before he knew it, Carl was standing over him, face stony.

"You gotta go," Hutch murmured.

Carl crouched in front of him. "He's not gonna leave you. And he's not gonna let us leave without him. So…it's nothing personal. Just…thinking of the good of the many."

Before Hutch could make sense of what the man was saying, Carl's hands were around his throat, shoving him to the floor. Hutch flailed, scrabbling at Carl's hands, but he was so weak and the man snarled, shoving his hand over Hutch's nose and mouth so he was chocking and smothering him at the same time.

Hutch struggled weakly, but Carl jammed a knee into his side, jarring his wound, sending agony exploding through his body. Hutch was weakening by the second. He tried to call for Starsky, scrabbling for his gun to try and get a shot off, but Carl knelt on his hand, keeping him pinned.

Hutch felt himself fading fast and there was nothing he could do about it. He only managed one pitifully muffled whimper, before the world faded away and he knew nothing more.

The next and final part of this story will be up Friday!

Also, I'm on Ko-fi and I do commission fics there, so if you would like to commission a Starsky&Hutch fic or any from the other fandoms I write for, or just buy me a cup of coffee, it would be much appreciated ^_^