Tortured In Body, Tormented At Heart.

Hutch groaned as he gradually regained consciousness, his head pounding with every beat of his heart. It felt like someone had smashed in the back of his skull, which, Hutch reflected as his memory returned, wasn't far from the truth.

He remembered receiving the report of a 211 in progress and the squeal of tires as Starsky swung round the Torino in a sharp U-turn, the sound of sirens as they raced to the scene just in time to spot the robber burst out of the convenience store with a fistful of cash. Starsky had parked haphazardly as usual and then they were running down a dark alley in pursuit of their man. Hutch had only barely registered a flicker of movement to his left when they were jumped by two thugs. Hutch didn't recall much of the desperate fight that had ensued – only that he had realized fairly early on that they were badly outmatched, so it hadn't come as much of a surprise when he found himself overpowered and slammed into a brick wall. Hard.

Hutch winced and attempted to reach up a hand to feel his head injury, only to find that his limbs weren't cooperating. It was a few moments before it dawned on him that he was tied up, but it made sense. He and Starsky had obviously been set up – those thugs had been waiting for them with a specific purpose in mind. Whatever that was, Hutch knew that it couldn't bode well for him or his partner.

Speaking of whom... "Starsky?" Hutch croaked, and was rewarded by the sound of a soft groan a short distance away. "Hey buddy, you okay?" Why don't you open your eyes and look, dummy?

He did so, and the sight that greeted him wasn't very encouraging.

In the dim light that struggled through a small dingy window high in the corner, he could see that Starsky was chained in a spread-eagled position on the opposite wall from where Hutch sat, tightly bound to a hard-backed chair. Neither of them could move much, and escape seemed very unlikely.

"Starsky?" Hutch tried again. "You with me, partner?"

Starsky's head jerked up, blue eyes flashing in momentary panic as he took in his predicament. "Hutch?"

"Yeah, I'm here," Hutch said reassuringly, although at the moment he couldn't see how it helped matters any.

"Mm," Starsky agreed with a faint smile, catching sight of the blonde. "Wha' happened?"

Hutch sighed. "We lost the bad guy and got beaten up by two others who were lying in wait."

"Oh," Starsky said simply, his gaze wandering to his restraints. He tugged at them briefly, before giving it up as a lost cause. "Why'm I getting the special treatment, huh?"

Hutch shrugged, his words cut off by the previously-unnoticed door swinging open abruptly.

"Morning, Hutchinson," a voice drawled, and a man stepped into the room with a wide grin on his face. "Remember me?"

The man was tall, mid-thirties, medium build, had straggly sandy-blonde hair and grey eyes. It didn't immediately ring a bell.

"Come now, Hutchinson, surely you haven't forgotten? You seemed so excited at the time... Your first homicide case under wraps."

Hutch frowned, the familiarity setting in. "That guy was sentenced to 20 years in the slammer."

The man approached, a slight swagger in his steps. "Told ya that place wouldn't hold me forever. It mighta taken longer than I thought, but I ain't forgotten to whom I owed such a pleasant stay."

"How did you get out?" Hutch asked calmly, despite his growing sense of unease.

"Turns out you guys have made quite a number of enemies in your time. My fellow inmates were more than happy to aid in my escape, once they found out what I had in mind for you. Gave me a few juicy tips, too." The man's gaze flickered over to Starsky, and Hutch really didn't like the look in his eyes.

"Hey," Starsky said cheerfully. "I don't think we've been introduced. I'm-"

"Dave Starsky," the man interrupted. "I know."

"And you are?" Starsky continued with a friendly smile.

"Hansen Granger," Hutch supplied. "Imprisoned for the violent murder of three people."

Hansen's face darkened into a scowl. "They got what was coming to them." Then a slow smile crept back onto his face. "As will you, Hutchinson... Once I've had my fun." He sauntered over to Starsky, and then without warning slammed a fist into his gut.

"Hey!" Hutch yelled, his anger sparked as he saw Starsky gasp with pain. "What did you do that for? You haven't got a grudge against him!"

Hansen turned to him with a grin. "Maybe not, but the reputation of this partnership precedes you." He grabbed a fistful of dark brown curls and jerked Starsky's head back, then backhanded him across the face.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Hutch demanded.

"My prison buddies told me plenty about the two of you. Strong, resilient, determined... And nigh inseparable. Hurt one, and you hurt them both." His fist connected solidly with Starsky's jaw, and his head snapped back. "The best way to torture Kenneth Hutchinson, therefore, is to torture David Starsky as he watches on helplessly." The next blow ploughed into Starsky's side. "Unable to do anything." The fists rained down now, punctuating each word with a blow. "Knowing that it's all his fault!"

If Hutch could have reeled back in shock he would have. Hansen was going to use Starsky to get to him. This couldn't be happening, he couldn't let this happen. It wasn't fair on Starsky – he'd never done anything to this man.

Hutch heard the sound of a rib cracking and blurted without thought, "Hansen, stop it!" Then, with a sinking feeling, he realized that he had played right into the man's hands.

A smile of triumph split Hansen's features. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, Hutchinson?" He stepped lithely to one side, grasping the head of curls again and forcing Starsky's head in Hutch's direction. "Take a good look at your partner's face, Hutchinson. This is the man you have condemned to an eternity of pain. Before I'm done with him he will be wishing that he never even laid eyes on you."

Hutch cursed himself silently for his stupidity, and for a long moment couldn't bring himself to meet Starsky's gaze.

"Hey Hutch," Starsky called gently.

He looked up then, apology and remorse shining in his sky blue eyes.

Starsky flashed him a weak smile. "'s okay, Hutch. I'm tougher than you, remember? I'll be fine." Hutch could hear the unspoken urge – Don't let this guy get the better of you. Not over this. Don't give him that satisfaction.

Hutch nodded slightly.

Hansen laughed. "How touching... I'm going to enjoy tearing this sweet friendship apart." He backed away slightly, and then delivered a powerful kick to Starsky's most sensitive area.

Starsky screamed, his body bucking violently at the abuse, before he lost consciousness and slumped in his restraints.

"Bastard!" Hutch spat out. "Does it make you feel stronger to beat up a man who can't fight back?"

Hansen didn't respond to that, but triumph still glittered in his cold, grey eyes. "This is only the beginning," he promised darkly, the door clanging shut behind him as he left.

Hutch's anger deflated as he looked helplessly at his best friend, knowing that there was nothing he could do. Hansen was right – this was torture.

A choked off scream woke Hutch from an uncomfortable and restless sleep. His head snapped up and he automatically lurched toward his partner, only to be held back by the ropes tying him to the chair. He swore under his breath as everything flooded back to him, and proceeded to struggle furiously against his bonds, only succeeding in rubbing his wrists raw.

"Hutchinson, nice of you to join us," Hansen said mockingly, throwing a smirk over his shoulder. "Starsky here didn't want me to wake you, so I encouraged him to do it himself." He twirled a thin cane between his fingers briefly, then swung it hard against Starsky's chest, crossing the long welt over a number of others and drawing blood. Starsky jerked, twisting his head away, strangling a moan.

Nausea rushed up Hutch's throat as he realized how hard Starsky was trying to hold on. He wanted to scream at Hansen, or beg him to leave Starsky alone and offer himself in the brunet's place, but he knew that it would only spur the man on. He couldn't see any way out of this situation, and Starsky was paying for it dearly.

The cane whistled down again, the force of the blow so severe that absently Hutch was surprised that the stick didn't snap in half. Starsky's pained yelp made him wince. I'm so sorry, buddy.

Dark cobalt eyes, watering slightly in pain, skittered around the room until they locked onto Hutch.

"'S okay, blondie," Starsky rasped. "He – hits like a – girl."

Hutch laughed softly in spite of himself. Trust Starsky to use humour at a time like this as a way of reassuring his partner, even while he was obviously hurting.

There was a low snarl from their captor, and the cane cracked smartly across Starsky's face.

"Wisecracks like that aren't becoming of a cop," Hansen growled. "Not that I expected better from any partner of Hutchinson's."

Starsky flashed a dangerous smile, his pain temporarily forgotten. "Watch who you're insulting, pal. We don't take kindly to such things from lowlifes and scumbags like yourself."

Hansen dug a hand into Starsky's injured side, eliciting a gasp, his anger evident. "You know Starsky, you were just a pawn for my revenge against Hutchinson, but now I'm beginning to see why the men in prison hate you just as much. Breaking you will be more fun than I thought."

Starsky glared at him defiantly. "You have one helluva fight ahead of you, 'cause I ain't going down easy."

Hansen grinned. "We'll see." He drew a pistol from a hidden holster, pointing it at Starsky's chest.

Blue eyes widened in surprise, but there was no sign of fear and his chin jutted out stubbornly. "There's some supplies I need," Hansen said casually, "so to give you something to think about while I'm gone..." His finger slowly tightened on the trigger.

Hutch tried in vain to lunge forward, to somehow defend his partner. "Starsky!"

Hansen laughed, jerking the gun sideways at the last second as he discharged a bullet at point blank range. Starsky screamed, and Hutch could tell he was in agony, but he wasn't dead. "It'd be a waste to kill him now, Hutchinson," the man said derisively, before striding out of the room.

All Hutch could see was the blood seeping from Starsky's side, soaking his shirt and jeans.

"M' favourite pair," Starsky muttered, and Hutch was awestruck by the inner core of strength his friend possessed. He'd seen it before on numerous occasions, but it still amazed him how one man could go through so much and yet still find energy enough to make jokes.

"I dunno, bud, maybe the crimson would match that striped tomato of yours," Hutch bantered gently in return.

Starsky offered a tired smile. "You think so?"

"Oh, sure..." Hutch trailed off, seriously concerned despite their efforts to make light of the situation. "Starsk, are you okay?"

Starsky blew out a sigh. "It only grazed me, Blintz. I'm not going to bleed to death."

Not yet, maybe, Hutch thought darkly, but they still had no idea what else Hansen had in store for them, and how long this would last.

As usual, it was as though Starsky could read his thoughts. "Dobey'll find us, Hutch. We just gotta give him a coupla days to work things out. We can hang in there until then."

Hutch's face darkened into a scowl. "You shouldn't have to!" he practically yelled. "It's all my-"

"It's not your fault, Hutch!" Starsky cut across sharply. "Granger is the only one to blame, so stop beating yourself up over it. It could easily have been the other way around."

Hutch knew he was right, but it didn't make it any easier.

They were both silent for a long moment. Hutch could hear his partner wheezing as the injured ribs and everything else finally caught up with him, and he winced in sympathy, knowing that Starsky hurt like hell.

A few minutes later they heard footsteps returning – more than one pair. Starsky and Hutch raised their eyebrows at each other simultaneously. What now?

Hansen entered the room with one of his goons following close behind. Hutch recognized him as the one who had taken him on in the alleyway, and his policeman mind kicked into gear, memorizing as many details about his appearance as he could. As such, it was only when Hansen spoke again that Hutch noticed what he was carrying.

"A friend of yours sends regards, Hutchinson. Man named Forest. Ring any bells?" He waved the object in his hand and Hutch realized with a thrill of horror what Hansen intended to do.

"God, no!" Hutch yelled, fighting his restraints more than ever and not caring that blood had begun to trickle from his abraded wrists.

Hansen tapped the syringe against his finger, then squirted a bit of liquid from it's tip. "I heard that you experienced the joys of heroin a little while back, Hutchinson. I wouldn't want to deny your partner here the same pleasure." He gave a curt nod and the hired muscle proceeded to release the manacle from Starsky's right arm. The brunet lashed out in a desperate bid to save himself, but the thug had seen it coming and swiftly grabbed his arm, tying the thin rubber tube around it and then holding it firmly in place.

"Hansen, don't!" Hutch pleaded, remembering his own personal hell and not wanting Starsky to go through the same thing.

"But it will make all the pain just drift away..." Hansen flicked the crook of Starsky's arm, coaxing a vein to show itself.

"I'm feeling much better, actually," Starsky interjected hurriedly. Hansen ignored him. "Granger, don't do this," Starsky implored, then tried to jerk away as the needle slid easily into his skin.

"No," the two cops protested weakly, knowing it was too late. Hansen depressed the plunger, releasing the heroin into Starsky's bloodstream.

Hutch, feeling sick to his stomach, watched as Starsky fought the effects of the drug with everything he had. Eventually, though, his eyes fluttered shut in defeat and his body fell limp.

"Doesn't that feel better?" Hansen said, lightly patting Starsky's cheek.

"You stay away from him," Hutch growled, still pulling unconsciously at the ropes, "ya lousy creep."

Hansen smirked at him. "I don't take orders from you, Hutchinson." He gently caressed Starsky's cheek, then trailed his hand down to grasp the bloodstained shirt. "He won't be needing this," he said, and roughly jerked it off.

Starsky's skin was a patchwork of blood and bruises. At first glance the worst injury seemed to be the bullet wound, but nasty bruising on the left side of his chest suggested that there were fractured ribs, which could potentially cause more damage if left untreated.

"Pretty," the goon spoke up, shoving a dirty finger into Starsky's chest. "Look at all the colours... Bet I could make more." He withdrew the hand, curled it into a fist and ploughed it into Starsky's abdomen. There was a soft grunt from the unconscious man, and the goon laughed. Hutch couldn't see how it was funny in the least.

"Save it for when he's going through withdrawal," Hansen ordered absently. "Then you can listen to him scream."

The goon grinned sadistically and rubbed his hands together in eager anticipation. "Yessir."

"Night-night, Hutchinson," Hansen said, waving a hand cheerfully as they headed for the door.

"Get out of here," Hutch snarled, hatred and loathing etched into his features as he glared at his captors.

"Ain't that sad, Jake? Looks like Hutchinson don't like our company. So much for sharing dinner tomorrow, eh?" And with that final comment Hansen slammed the door behind him.

Hutch sighed heavily, shoulders slumping in dejection. "What have I gotten us into, Starsk?"

"N-no, no," Starsky protested, shaking his head weakly. "Don't want... don't..."

Hutch watched sadly as his partner's half-hearted pleas were ignored and Hansen doped him up again. As much as he wanted to yell and scream on Starsky's behalf, last time he'd tried Hansen had threatened to OD him. And besides, although he hated to admit it, Hutch was almost relieved every time Hansen gave Starsky the heroin because it meant that the withdrawal was being put off for a little while longer. Deep inside, he knew each dosage was getting his partner more and more addicted, and the resistance he offered now would soon be overcome by desperate cravings that would be used against him. Hutch was actually surprised that Starsky had held out this long. He certainly hadn't.

"Don't worry, baby, only a few more," Hansen crooned as he flashed a light at the dazed blue eyes before turning away. He laughed. "Although, in a few days time you'll probably think that it is something to worry about."

"Damn you," Hutch swore darkly.

"Now, now, Hutchinson, play nicely or I'll have to reconsider feeding you tonight."

"What about Starsky?" Hutch asked, as politely as he could. In the past few days Hansen had given Hutch a small crust of drying bread and some nearly rotten fruit to keep him going, but even those meager rations hadn't been given to his curly-haired partner.

"I can keep him going on water for a while yet," Hansen said casually. "He's too out of it to care at the moment."

"Well I care!" Hutch yelled. "He's no good to you dead!" And I can't live without him, he added silently.

"It won't kill him to lose a few pounds," Hansen replied with a sardonic grin.

"You're inhumane, you know that?" Hutch spat venomously, sick and tired of these games.

"Prison will do that to ya."

"You always have been! Why do you think we put you away in the first place?"

His question was met with stony silence, and then Hansen sent a stinging slap across Hutch's face. "You're not very bright, Hutchinson. I could kill your partner right here and now, and there would be nothing you could do about it. So just shut up before I decide that I don't want Starsky around anymore."

Hutch fell silent in acknowledgment of the threat, but his eyes continued to communicate for him as he pinned Hansen with a look that would have sent most criminals running for cover.

Hansen frowned uncomfortably, then abruptly turned away. "Your partner's going to suffer, Hutchinson, really suffer. And then when he's nothing more than a hollow shell of a man, I'm going to kill him as you watch on. Then it will be your turn, and I will take great pleasure in watching the life fade from your eyes."

Dobey will find us before then, Hutch thought, hoping to God that it was true. He'll have the whole force out looking for us. Hansen's escape won't have gone unnoticed. The calvary will be here any day now. He had to keep that thought alive, because it was the only thing keeping him going.

"Gimme some?" Starsky asked hopefully, offering his arm to Hansen as the men approached.

"Not today, Starsky."

Hutch looked up suddenly, hoping that he had heard wrong. But for the first time in over a week Hansen didn't have the syringe with him, and Hutch realized that the torture was to begin again.

Starsky frowned. "Give!" he yelled hoarsely, thrusting out his arm as far as he could.

Hansen's goon – Jake – grabbed the proffered limb and twisted it sharply. Hutch heard the bone snap, and Starsky screamed.

"Whaddya do that for? Gimme some help!" The mangled arm flailed uselessly.

"No."

Jake delivered two swift jabs to Starsky's stomach, then leaped out of the way as Starsky spewed what little was in his stomach.

"Leave me alone!" Starsky wailed, wrapping his injured arm protectively around himself.

"Sure thing, baby," Hansen said, backing away.

Starsky lurched forward. "No, no, stay! Gimme some help." He offered a tentative smile. "Please?"

Jake slammed a fist into his jaw. "That answer your question?"

"You gotta!" Starsky insisted. "I need-"

"Starsky!" Hutch called, unable to bear it any longer. He knew what his partner was going through, and he couldn't let him do it alone.

Wide cobalt eyes flashed in his direction. "Hutch?"

"I'm right here, babe."

Starsky looked confused for a moment, but then he smiled. "Hutch, you'll help me won't you? Gimme some?"

The hopeful expression on his face tore at Hutch's heart. "I can't."

"You're just like them!" Starsky accused loudly. "I hate every one of ya!"

Hutch recoiled as if he'd been slapped, and Hansen clapped his hands gleefully.

"Amazing what a little change in body chemistry can do, isn't it Hutchinson?"

Hutch had to remind himself that it was just that. Starsky didn't mean it, he just couldn't think straight at the moment. "Starsky, I know it's hard," he said in the soft, soothing voice he reserved for the times when Starsky was hurting. "But we can get through this, just like we did last time. You remember, Starsk? You helped me kick it."

Starsky stared at him, conflicting emotions flickering over his face. "But I don't wanna," he said pleadingly. "Just want some."

"I know, babe, but we can do this. Me and Thee, remember?"

Starsky nodded slightly, ever trusting.

Hansen scowled. "Bored now." He seized Starsky's wounded side and squeezed hard.

"HUTCH!" Starsky screamed, his body convulsing. "Please, no more, don't let him Hutch..."

"Hutch is enjoying the show," Hansen said slyly. "He won't help you." He drew a knife and flicked it carelessly across Starsky's skin.

"Ow, no, stop it!" Starsky cried. "Please, I just want some help."

Hansen trailed the blade down Starsky's chest, heedless of his pleas.

"Hutch..." Starsky was sobbing now. "It hurts, make it go away..."

"Leave him alone, Hansen," Hutch said firmly, not really expecting a positive result but needing to try in any case. Seeing Starsky in so much pain was killing him. "The withdrawal is bad enough."

"No way, Hutchinson, the party's just getting started." Hansen dragged the knife back up Starsky's torso, leaving a jagged gash in its wake. He continued this way for a while, and every time Hutch dared to utter a protest Hansen dug the blade in a little deeper as punishment.

"Hey boss, can I have a turn with him?" Jake asked eventually, gazing hungrily at the bleeding man before him.

Hansen yawned and wiped a cloth over the bloodied knife before slipping it back into his belt. "Yeah, why not? Take him down from there and give him a good beating."

"It'd be my pleasure," Jake said enthusiastically, proceeding to unlock the remainder of the manacles holding Starsky in place.

"Have fun," Hansen said in parting, "and knock when you're done, 'cause I'm gonna lock the door."

"Sure thing, boss," Jake said absently, finally releasing Starsky's left arm and allowing the brunet to crumple to the ground.

"Jake, don't do this," Hutch pleaded quietly once Hansen was gone. "He can't withstand much more of this abuse. Just leave him be, huh? Or at least let him kick the addiction first."

"I'd much rather kick him," Jake said, barking a laugh as swung his leg hard at the huddled figure.

Starsky let out a strangled yelp and jerked away. Jake advanced on him menacingly, and Starsky dragged himself over to his partner, leaving dark smears of blood on the floor. "Hutch, don't let him, please don't let him hurt me," Starsky begged, collapsing at Hutch's feet.

He was so close. Hutch wanted nothing more than to gather Starsky into his arms, helping him to ride out the pain and protecting him from further violence, but the ropes were too tight. He couldn't do anything to stop Jake as he continued to beat his partner to a pulp and Starsky cringed against his legs, screaming for help.

"For God's sake, stop it!" Hutch shouted finally as Starsky let out a raw-throated yell of agony, his heart aching as though it had received each blow rather than his curly-hair partner.

For once Jake heeded him, and backed up a few steps. "Yeah, don't want him dead yet, after all." He hammered on the door and retreated from the room.

Hutch gazed down at his best friend, whose body was shuddering with heart-wrenching sobs. "Oh Starsk..."

"Hutch?" Starsky hiccoughed.

"I'm here, buddy."

Blue eyes, awash with tears, looked up at him. "Why didn't you... s-stop him?"

"I'm tied up, Starsky. I wanted to, but I can't move..." Hutch trailed off, realizing that his partner wasn't listening.

"Need m-medicine, make the pain go 'way... You know where it is, don't you? Gimme some, m-make the pain stop... Please Hutch..."

"I can't," Hutch said brokenly.

"If you were really my friend you'd help me!" Starsky yelled, before a bout of coughing overtook him. "I hate you," Starsky grated out. "How can you do this to me, after everything I-" He broke off, turning his head away. "I loved you more than I've loved anyone, and this is how you repay me? But just watching as they torture me, and then not even trying to relieve my pain? I hate you."

Hutch felt as though he'd been hit by a truck. "Starsky, I never meant for this to happen," he said softly, trying to make his partner understand.

"Well it did, and it's your fault!"

"I know, and I'm sorry, Starsk, I really am."

"Sure," Starsky muttered.

"Starsky..." But the brunet was refusing to respond, and Hutch sighed. Help better come soon.

"Police, freeze!"

Hutch's head snapped up at the sound of the familiar yell, hardly daring to believe it. But Dobey's gruff voice was unmistakable, and hope surged through him.

"Starsky, the rescue party's here!" Remembering that Starsky wasn't talking to him and hadn't been for the past three days sobered him somewhat, but he was relieved nonetheless. "In here!" he bellowed.

Minutes later the door burst open to reveal Captain Dobey and a number of uniformed officers.

"Thank God," Hutch exhaled softly, then said louder, "Get me out of these things, will ya?"

One of the younger cops obliged, studiously avoiding looking at Starsky's bloody and battered form.

"What happened, Hutchinson?" Dobey asked sharply, his gaze falling on the curly-haired half of his best team.

"Long story, Captain," Hutch said, shrugging off the loosened ropes and dropping down beside his partner, ignoring the ache in his muscles as they were allowed to move for the first time in weeks. "But Starsky's in bad shape." He gently pulled the brunet into his arms, only for Starsky to flinch and pull away.

"Leave me alone, Hutchinson," Starsky growled in a low voice, struggling to get to his feet on his own.

"I can see that," Dobey agreed, looking shocked at Starsky's reaction to his partner. The expression was mirrored in the eyes of the other cops, and Hutch knew that they were thinking about how close Zebra Three usually were and wondering how things had changed so drastically.

"He needs an ambulance," Hutch said quietly.

Dobey nodded. "There's one waiting just outside. We thought we'd better come prepared, what with Granger's reputation..."

Hutch nodded wearily. "Let's get out of here, huh?"

The Captain nodded again. After a brief second of hesitation and a bemused glance at the blonde, Dobey moved to support Starsky. Hutch watched sadly as his injured partner was led from the room, leaning heavily against their superior.

"Detective Hutchinson?" asked one of the younger cops tentatively.

Hutch shook himself out of his reverie. "What?"

"Are you okay?" The man blushed slightly. "I mean, did Hansen hurt you too, or did he just-"

"-Torture my partner?" Hutch snapped bitterly. "I'm fine. A little hungry, maybe." And a little heartbroken. No one would ever hear him say it out loud though.

The young man nodded and stared at his toes, discouraged from saying further by Hutch's curt tone.

An older officer who wasn't so easily deterred approached him and laid a hand on Hutch's shoulder. "Go look after your partner," he suggested quietly. "We'll finish up."

"I didn't do such a good job of looking after him here," Hutch pointed out, the anger in his voice directed more at himself than the other cop. "I don't see why he'd want me looking after him now."

There was a sympathetic understanding in the dark brown eyes that steadily met his gaze. "He's hurting right now, for sure. I don't know everything that went down, but I do know that partners stick by each other through thick and thin. What happened here wasn't your fault," the man held up a hand to cut off Hutch's argument, "and when his head has cleared Starsky'll realize that. He needs you now more than ever." He offered a wry grin. "Now get your ass moving before that ambulance leaves."

Hutch couldn't help but like the fatherly-type figure, and found himself listening to the man's advice. Without further prompting he ran after Starsky, determined to stick by him whether his partner wanted him there or not.

The ride to the hospital was quiet and uncomfortable, with Starsky resolutely looking in the other direction and flinching whenever Hutch tried to touch him. Dobey's concerned gaze flickered between the two, but he didn't say anything either. Hutch was relieved when the ambulance pulled into Memorial and the bustle of activity provided a distraction from the awkward silence.

"You can stay with him," one of the nurses said to Hutch, having witnessed the close bond between the two partners on a number of previous occasions.

"I don't-" Starsky started, but Hutch interrupted him quickly.

"Thank you very much."

Starsky scowled and pointedly ignored him as he was escorted to a treatment room. Hutch, his mind now made up after the pep talk he had received, wasn't going to be put off so easily and stubbornly stuck by Starsky's side as the brunet's wounds were assessed and dealt with.

"You should rest now, Detective Starsky," said the overseeing doctor once all the bandages were in place.

Starsky acknowledged the instruction with a slight dip of his head and closed his eyes, turning his face away from Hutch.

Hutch shifted in the bedside chair, frustrated that he was finally free from his bindings and yet was still unable to embrace his partner, giving and receiving in turn the comfort they both needed.

"Usually I would insist that you leave now," the doctor said to Hutch, "but the reputation of this partnership proceeds you-"

Hutch flinched at the familiar words, and he subconsciously shifted closer to his partner, taking one of Starsky's hands in his own.

"-and I realize that it would be fairly pointless to even try," the doctor continued.

Hutch nodded, working to hide the distress he felt when Starsky pulled away from his touch.

The doctor frowned, and for a moment Hutch was afraid that he would notice that Starsky didn't want him around and order Hutch to leave after all.

"You're injured," was what the doctor said, gesturing at Hutch's wrists.

He glanced down at them, only just becoming aware that they were raw and bleeding. "Oh," he said dispassionately. He didn't really care about the pain because he felt that he deserved it, but dropped his hands to his lap so that blood wouldn't stain the white sheets.

"They should be wrapped," the doctor said, retrieving some of the left over bandages. "Here, let me."

Hutch let the man work, but obstinately refused the offer of panadol or other painkillers. He needed the physical pain to distract himself from the deeper emotional turmoil, and was half tempted to take out all his anger and frustration on the wall, hopefully injuring himself further. But the doctor wouldn't have approved, and Starsky needed to sleep in any case.

"I'll leave you be."

Hutch hardly spared the doctor a glance as he left, bracing himself for a long, lonely vigil.

Starsky opened his eyes warily, knowing that Hutch would be somewhere nearby. Sure enough, the blonde was slumped in his chair, head resting on the edge of Starsky's mattress, fast asleep.

Starsky blew out a gentle sigh. Hutch had barely left his side for the past week, and the younger man looked totally exhausted. Starsky knew that he was hurting the big blonde, and at first that had been what he wanted. But he was beginning to feel guilty. In the last few days Hutch had become quiet and withdrawn, not even trying to get Starsky to talk to him anymore. It was a sure sign that he was retreating into the protective shell that Starsky had worked so hard to draw him out of those many years ago. But he hadn't stormed out yet, hadn't given up on Starsky even though the brunet had given him every reason to do just that.

'I'm staying, Starsky, so get used to it.'

'Why? You're not welcome here.'

'Because you're my partner, and that's what partners do.'

'Do partners just sit by and watch as their partner is tortured and doped by sadistic maniacs?'

'I was tied up, Starsky. I tried to stop them, but everything thing I said was just playing right into Hansen's sick game.'

'You didn't try very hard, partner

'Maybe things could have been done differently, but what's important is that we made it out of there.'

'Right now I'd rather be seeing you get out of here.'

'Starsky...'

Starsky bit his lower lip, now regretting his harsh words. He'd still been coming down from the heroin addiction and Hutch was the only outlet he had. Inwardly he had longed for the comfort of Hutch's embrace, but the stubborn Starsky pride had stopped him from saying it. And it hurt so much, remembering how he had sought protection from the blonde when Jake had beaten him, and no matter how much he screamed and sobbed and begged, Hutch hadn't seemed to do anything until the very end. Deep down, Starsky knew that it had to have hurt Hutch just as much, watching helplessly, feeling responsible all the while. Starsky might've been tortured in body, but Hutch was tormented at heart, and Starsky had spent the past week hurting them both even more.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, gently caressing Hutch's cheek and then trailing a hand through the blonde hair. He just hoped it wasn't too late to repair the friendship that he shouldn't have let falter in the first place.

Hutch gasped and his eyes flew open abruptly as he woke up from another nightmare. Trying to calm his frantic breathing, Hutch shied away from the remnants of his dream – Starsky screaming, Starsky dying... No, he's all right, Hansen didn't kill him, he's safe,Hutch reminded himself firmly, but he couldn't help adding, but he's hurt, and he's ignoring me.

Hutch blinked back the tears that had welled up in his eyes and attempted to sit up, knowing that his muscles would be protesting violently at the awkward position he had slept in. For some reason, though, his head felt heavier than usual.

He shifted slightly and glanced up to see a white bandage hovering over his forehead. His eyes followed it and after a few moments of confusion he realized that he was looking at Starsky's arm. The weight resting on his head, then, was probably Starsky's hand. Which, in the past, wouldn't have been so strange, but now Hutch's breath caught in his throat.

Don't overreact, he told himself, but he couldn't stop the hopeful grin that spread over his face. He moved out from under the hand but caught it up quickly in his own, dragging his chair closer to the bed with his foot. His gaze swept over Starsky's sleeping form, noticing with another burst of joy that it was curled in his direction, rather than facing away.

"Starsky?" he asked hesitantly. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to wake the brunet or not, but he had to know if Starsky had forgiven him. "Starsky?" he repeated, stretching out his free hand and gently ruffling the mess of dark curls. There was movement beneath his fingers, but Starsky was snuggling into his palm, not pulling away.

After a few moments, Starsky's eyes slowly opened, and Hutch drank in the sight of those baby blues looking at him for the first time in far too long.

"Hey, partner," Starsky whispered.

Hutch couldn't hear any sarcasm in the words, and his heart leapt. Did this mean that Starsky was still willing to be partnered with him, after everything...?

"Only if you are," Starsky said, reading his mind.

Hutch's face split into a wide grin, and he squeezed Starsky's hand. "Of course, buddy. I couldn't bear it otherwise."

Starsky smiled faintly. "I'm sorry that there was ever reason to doubt."

Hutch's smile dropped away. "I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry that I didn't get through to Hansen, or find a way to get us out of there, or-"

"Hey," Starsky interrupted, sitting up. "That stuff was out of your control. I should've remembered that, withdrawal or not. And I'm sorry it took me so long to come to my senses."

"I feel like I deserved it," Hutch said quietly, staring down at his fingers.

Starsky's hand cupped his face and gently tilted his chin up so Hutch had to meet his gaze. "Neither of us deserved any of this. But it's still Me and Thee, and that's all that matters." Starsky's hand slid around Hutch's neck and he gently pulled him into a hug.

Hutch shifted from the chair to the bed and returned the embrace, the tears that he had been struggling to hold back for ages beginning to spill down his cheeks. A growing wet patch on his shoulder told Hutch that Starsky was crying too, and for a long time they just held each other, letting the cleansing tears wash away all the trauma of the past few weeks.

"You okay?" Starsky eventually asked softly.

"Haven't you got that backwards?" Hutch replied, his words laced with a quiet humour. "You're the one in the hospital bed."

Starsky pulled back slightly, a lopsided grin on his face. "You are too at the moment, dummy."

Hutch laughed, and then stifled a yawn.

"When was the last time you slept in a proper bed?" Starsky asked, then winced. "Don't answer that. Why don't you head home, get some rest?"

Hutch shook his head wearily. "Not leaving you," he mumbled.

"Okay," Starsky relented and added without a trace of embarrassment, "You can share my bed, then. Lie down."

Hutch was too tired to argue. He stretched out with a gentle sigh, finally letting himself relax.

A hand ruffled his hair, and Hutch was dimly aware of Starsky snuggling in beside him. A faint smile flitted across his features, and he knew that the healing process had finally started. Everything was going to be all right, and with that knowledge Hutch was able to drift into a nightmare-free slumber.

An hour or so later, a nurse glanced into the room to find both men fast asleep, breathing in perfect rhythm with each other. She smiled and retrieved blankets for the two, making sure that she didn't disturb them. She was glad to see that the tension in their friendship had eased, although some might have said it was more than just a friendship. It was, she reflected, but not in the way most would have thought. They were partners who worked together, fought together, hurt together and healed together. As she watched the slow, simultaneous rise and fall of their chests, she laughed gently. They even breathed together.