Disclaimer: This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of Starsky and Hutch.

Warning: "Shadows of the Past" contains some foul language that might be offensive to some readers. As it is never my intention to offend anyone, please consider yourself warned.

A/N: Aloha Everyone . . .

I have missed all of you. It has been a long while since I have had the time to just sit and write much of anything, Life has held me captive in its firm clutches for most of the year, but with the ending of school in a few, short days, I have finally had the time to jot down some words, which I will take the liberty of calling a "prologue". As of yet, this little blurb is just that, a blurb. But perhaps if this little piece captures your attention and you see this as a potential story-starter you can let me know. If there is a definite interest in this, then when school ends next week (Friday), I will make a determined effort to tie this blurb into a story just for you.

A very special thanks goes out to Brook for always encouraging me to write - I know I wouldn't be here if it weren't for your gentle prodding and your many creative ideas! I love you girl. Also, please excuse any grammatical errors you may happen to find, as this piece has not yet been beta'ed except for a quick read-through by me. Mahalo for your understanding.

Love and light to you all . . . Shawne 'til Dawn

And now, I bring you this meager offering . . .

~Shadows of the Past ~

~Prologue~

1958 – Brooklyn

"How long you been sittin' here by your lonesome?"

A gentle breeze ruffled the dark curls of the teenager who sat moodily on one of the large wooden crates stacked in the back alleyway behind the neighborhood's five and dime store. The sky was already darkening, the last fiery shades of sunset already deferring to the oncoming gloom. He knew he should be in the house by now. His ma would be worried and upset. Thinking of his mother made the angry feelings he'd tried to bury rise to the surface once more. He wouldn't have been outside in the cold of the night if it weren't for his mom and her stupid ideas in the first place.

"So what? Cat got your tongue? A little kid like you shouldn't be out here when it gets dark. It ain't safe, Davey." Green eyes peered keenly at the angry teen, the golden flecks in Joey's emerald depths glittered in the twilight as he noted the healing cuts and bruises on the younger boy's face.

David Starsky shifted bright blue eyes to the visage of his best friend. "Shut up Joey! I ain't a kid no more. I'm thirteen, nearly fourteen, and you ain't much older than me, so don't go tellin' me where I need to be and what's safe and what's not." The curly haired boy fisted his hands and slammed them against the top of the crate to emphasize his words.

Joey Campanella snorted at the angry retort, raising his own hands to placate the bristling boy. "Whoa now, take it easy there, tiger. I ain't your enemy, remember?" Green eyes softened as he took note of Davey's trembling lower lip, compassion flooding his heart for the hurting teen. Joey sighed and hoisted himself up to sit beside the teenager who hurriedly swiped at his leaking eyes, turning his face away until he could pull himself together. Joey could see how the younger boy inconspicuously reached for his bruised ribs, knowing his friend was still on the mend after his run-in a few weeks ago. Thinking back to the day he found Davey lying unconscious, curled up against the fence near the park . . . even now, it made Joey see red and the need to go out and do some damage to the punks who hurt the kid made the adrenalin surge through his veins.

Joey took in a deep breath to calm himself and waited, willfully pushing down the molten hot anger that wanted to spew forth as he watched the kid, forcing himself to sit still until Davey was ready to spill it. Though he wanted to reach out and hug the curly-topped boy like he used to when they were children, the older teenager withheld his touch, instinctively knowing Davey wouldn't accept it until he was ready. Instead, Joey just made sure that the warmth of his shoulder reassuringly touched the kid's, letting Davey silently that know he was there for him.

He would always be there for Starsky. There was something special about Davey . . . something innocent and pure that Joey still wished he had. Davey always saw the good in things. For him, the cup of life was always half-full even when they both knew it was pitifully empty. That rare kind of rose-colored perspective needed protecting. It needed to be nurtured and cherished especially in this unforgiving world.

There was a time that Joey remembered being innocent like that, albeit a short time, before it was cruelly snatched away. Yet, Joey still remembered when he had a family of his own and life was wonderful and safe . . . a time of laughter and bedtime stories, a time when he could see the world from the top of his dad's shoulders and smell the comforting aroma of bread baking in the oven. But that was before his mom died of cancer and his dad took a gun to his temple. A slight shudder ran through the older teen's frame when he remembered coming home from school, finding the grisly image of his father lying in a pool of blood on the bathroom floor. For Joey, life as he knew it had ended at the age of eight. He had shut down after that, not speaking a word for the next six months, watching the world behind the walls he'd erected to protect himself from the pain of living. If it wasn't for Davey's friendship and his uncle taking him in . . .

Joey sighed once more, trying to keep the impatience he felt inside from taking over. Sitting still like this made him remember the shadows of the past and that was something Joey tried hard not to do. Before he could stop himself from opening his mouth, he found himself saying, "So, wanna tell me what's goin' on in that head'a yours?"

He could have kicked himself. He knew what was going on in Davey's head. Shit, he'd been there, done that. The kid was going through hell since his dad died a few months ago. Joey had helplessly watched as little David Starsky had spiraled down into this angry stranger sitting beside him. Gone was the innocent and happy boy Joey had grown to love over the years, the boy he'd sworn to protect. He couldn't blame the kid. He, above anyone else, knew the damage that kind of loss could do to a family . . . to a son.

Davey sniffled and rubbed the side of his palm under his nose. "My ma said she's gonna send me to my Aunt Rosie's in California. Said I'd have'ta live there." The dark haired boy refused to look at his friend as he spoke, choosing instead to glare out into the dark of the night, his soft voice quavered and was lifted away by the breeze, but the taller boy heard it anyway.

Joey swallowed down the lump of fear that rose in his throat at the thought of losing his best friend. "What the . . . how come she's thinking shit like that?"

Davey shrugged and sighed. "Ma said she don't like it when I hang out on the streets. Said only bad stuff goes on after dark."

Joey nodded, green eyes dark with street wisdom. "She's right, you know. You shouldn't be out here. There's a lot of creeps and assholes on the streets who like to hurt kids and we both know what kind of damage the gangs can do to . . ."

"But you're out here, Joey . . . and I don't want nobody to mess with ya."

For a moment Joey was tongue-tied at the younger boy's blurted confession. His usually fast-mouth answers deserted him as he looked into the familiar and earnest cobalt colored irises of his friend. The older boy swallowed down the emotion that flared in his heart. "Look, that ain't no reason for you to be riskin' your hide comin' out here to look for me. I can take care of myself and anyway, I always go back home once my Uncle's sleepin'."

"You could come home with me," Davey whispered fiercely; already knowing how futile that invitation was. Hadn't he offered the same thing to his best friend so many times before? And each time Joey refused, saying stuff like 'Campanella's don't take hand-outs'. It surprised the battered teen that this time, in the quiet dark of the alleyway, Joey just remained quiet.

Sighing, David Starsky reached into the pocket of his jacket and dragged out a cigarette and lighter. Sticking the butt into his mouth, the curly haired boy bent over to light it, shielding the cigarette in the cup of his hands from the chilly evening breeze. The sudden flick of the cheap plastic lighter lit up the teen's young visage, illuminating the yellowish-green bruises that marred his face as the boy shoved the tip of the rolled tobacco into the tiny flame. Bright blue eyes immediately widened as Joey knocked the cigarette from his lips.

"What the fuck, Davey?" Joey snapped, jumping off the crate to stomp on the lit end of the cigarette. The dark wisps of smoke coming from the tiny glowing ember quickly dissipated and smoldered out from under the heel of the sixteen year old's sneaker, reminding Joey of life and how easily it could be snuffed out. "What the hell you doin', kid? I ever catch you smokin' again, I'll kick your ass!"

An angry scowl washed over the countenance of David Starsky as he glared at his friend in the dark. "Don't preach to me, Joey Campanella, you smoke, and you ain't my pop."

"Yeah, well I'm older than you . . ." Joey rationalized quietly.

"By three fuckin' years, big deal!" David snapped back, childishly sticking out his tongue at the older boy.

The older rolled his eyes. "Jesus, kiddo, watch your fuckin' language! Your ma's gonna blame me for sure when you try to kiss her goodnight with that trash mouth of yours." Joey sighed, running his hand through his dark golden-brown hair, feathering the long layers back from his face as he continued to peer at the sullen teen.

A grin that was so bright suddenly lit up the darkness of the alley as Davey's eyes sparkled with mirth. "Nah, you don't' have'ta worry. My ma would never blame you. She likes you and so does Nicky. She always asks about you, Joey . . . that is, when she ain't cryin' and stuff." Davey finished softly; his mouth turning down into a frown once again, his heart aching as he remembered how tightly his mother had held his hand at the funeral where they laid his dad underground forever.

It broke Joey's heart to see the sadness creep back into the familiar blue eyes that in the past, usually sparkled all the time like they did a few seconds ago. Joey sighed and laid his hand on the younger boy's thigh. " Look, your ma's a good lady, Davey. You're lucky you still have her in your life, so knock off your bad attitude and go on home. She's probably worried sick about ya and she don't need ya to give her any more problems than she already has. Okay?"

"Right," the curly haired boy replied bitterly, "She loves me so much she's gonna kick me out of her house and send me all the way to fuckin' California."

The older teen eyed his younger counterpart, dark green eyes scanning over the mottled bruises and scabbed cuts that blemished Davey's otherwise smooth olive-toned complexion. "M-maybe it's for the best . . . you leavin' this hell hole of a place," Joey whispered, seeing the look of hurt and confusion that flickered in the sapphire depths of his friend's eyes.

It killed Joey to say that, to encourage the leaving of his best friend, but staying here would only end badly for the boy. Davey was young and impressionable and angry. With qualities like that, the streets would eat him up whole and spit him out in shattered, broken pieces, leaving only a bitter shell of what the kid could have amounted to had he been in a better place. Joey decided then and there that he couldn't bear to see his best friend lose that special spark of light within him. . The image of a hardened and mean Starsky was something the older boy could never stomach even more than having the kid leave the state. At least in California, he'd know that Davey was safe and away from the cruel streets of Brooklyn and that was all that Joey ever wanted for the kid.

"I-I can't believe you just said that . . ." Davey murmured, his eyes filling with unshed tears. "I don't wanna go, Joey."

Pasting a cocky grin on his face, Joey said, "Your mom's just lookin' out for ya, so what are ya griping about? At least the chicks are hot down there, lyin' spread out on the beaches for the pickin', nearly butt naked in those skimpy pieces of cloth they call a bathing suit. You don't know how lucky you are, dude!"

"Gross!" Starsky sniffed, dragging his sleeve across his eyes. "I don't' know what that has to do with anything. I mean there's girls here, ya know, stupid, and anyway I don't wanna leave because I . . ."

"You what?" Joey pushed after Davey quieted down, leaving his sentence unfinished. "Go on, what were you gonna to say?" The older teen hefted himself back up on the crate to sit beside the curly haired boy and turned to look questionably at the thirteen year old. "What is it? You do know that your mom and Nicky will be fine, right? You don't have'ta worry 'bout them because . . ."

"I know . . . you'll look out for them," Davey sighed softly and then turned his head to look into the familiar green orbs of his best friend. Even under the poor lighting that came from the streets, David could see the warmth and concern shining in the depths Joey's eyes. "But who's gonna worry about you?"

Green eyes flecked with gold, widened with understanding and then hardened as Joey turned to look away. The older boy snorted derisively and said, "You don't need to worry about me, kid. I'm good. I'm a survivor. Been on my own, well sort of, since I've been eight. I'll be fine. It's you I worry about. Don't want you fucked up like the rest of us hoodlums."

"M-maybe I can ask my ma if you could come too. My Aunt Rosie and Uncle Al don't have any kids of their own and maybe they'll have room enough for two?" Davey said, sapphire eyes sparkling with hope.

"Well, you can ask, but I doubt it will go over. Hell, your relatives don't know me from Adam. I highly doubt they'd take in some stranger off the streets," Joey reasoned calmly. "'Sides, if I went with ya, who'd watch out for Nicky and your ma?"

The wind began to pick up, its cold fingers causing both boys to shiver in the darkness. The older boy threw his arm around the thin shoulders of the younger boy, pulling Davey closer so that they could share their meager body heat. David sniffled and then solemnly nodded. "Thanks, Joey, I know you'll take care of my family. It's just that . . . I just wish that . . ."

"Hey," Joey whispered, leaning closer against his curly haired friend, "What I tell ya? There's no such thing as wishes come true or fairytales, kiddo. The sooner you learn that the better. Life's a bitch, and she don't care who she's unfair to. She took my ma and pop away, and now your pop's gone too. The way I see it, bad things happen to good people all the time and the only thing you can control is how you're gonna react to it. You're a good kid, Davey. I want you to always stay that way."

"You're a good kid too, Joey," Davey whispered softly, "I know it in here." The young boy pointed boldly to his heart, his dark blue eyes were solemn and resolute. "I know you're good inside and I don't care what anyone else says. They can go fuck themselves!"

Joey snorted at the younger boy's staunch sense of loyalty and then reached out to ruffle the soft, dark curls, hiding the pain he felt inside at the thought of losing David Starsky. In so many ways, the younger boy was his only "real" family. Feeling Davey leaning closer into his touch, Joey swallowed down the sadness he felt and whispered, "You need a haircut, kiddo."

"Ma said that she's callin' the airlines tomorrow. Said I'll probably be outta here by the end of the week." Davey continued as if he hadn't heard one word Joey said. "I wish . . . I wish you were my real brother, Joey, then you could come with me and I could take care of ya, real good, like you do for me."

For a brief moment Joey's eyes filled with hot tears, which he impatiently brushed away before the younger boy could see them. Turning green eyes that now glimmered and shone in the waning lights from the streets, Joey fixed his intense gaze at the younger boy, whispering fiercely, "To me, you are my brother, Davey; the kid brother I've always wanted. You make life worth living for me. I can't even . . . even imagine you not being here, but if it'll keep ya safe . . . that's all I care about." For a moment, both boys listened to the distant sounds of traffic and each other's quiet breathing, already feeling the impending loss of one another even though they still sat silently side by side in the cold, dark night.

Suddenly Joey reached into his back pocket and removed the folded switchblade he always carried with him. "Do you trust me, kid?" the older boy whispered softly, noting the wide-eyed look in the younger boy as he flipped the blade open.

At Davey's stilted nod, Joey held out his hand, "Gimme me your hand, Davey."

Without hesitation, David Starsky placed his smaller hand onto Joey's, palm side up. Bright blue eyes dawned with understanding. "You're gonna make me your blood brother, ain't ya? Just like them Indians used'ta do in those cowboy movies we always watched together."

Joey smiled, feeling the quiet excitement and sudden anxiety in the younger boy. "Only if you want to, kiddo. It'll just be a small cut, but it'll bind us together for always."

"Do it," Davey urged, wanting the connection with his best friend that no miles could ever take away. "Make it happen."

Joey licked his bottom lip and nodded, "It'll sting a little, but nothing like what you've already lived through." At Davey's nod, Joey carefully made a small, shallow slice into the center of his friend's left palm and then did the same to his own. Without speaking, both boys clasped hands feeling the warmth of each other's blood mingling together, rivulets of red running down the wrists of both boys. It was a sacred moment. To Joey, this bonding was a poignant ending to what was most precious in his life; to Davey it was an almost magical moment filled with hope for the future.

"No matter where you go, you'll never be alone now," Joey whispered quietly, his green gaze locked on their still clasped hands. "I'll always be with you, and I'll always take care of you."

"No matter where I go, you'll be with me. I know." Davey replied; his voice filled with awe and sense of wonder. "I'll never forget you, Joey Campanella. Never. And I promise you that when I get older, I'll come back and find you."

Joey snickered, releasing his hold on Davey's hand, snapping out a wadded hankie from his shirt pocket to wrap around the younger boy's hand. "Man, we just sounded like a coupl'a chicks. The way you spoke just now, kid, I thought you were askin' me t' marry ya."

Davey laughed out loud and punched the older teen in his muscled bicep. "Right, did you ever take a look at your face? I ain't that desperate!"

Joey grinned and then chuckled, the familiar dimpled smile softening his features and taking away the hard lines from his handsome young face, his green-gold eyes almost seeming to melt with the affection he felt for the younger boy. Looking at his friend, Davey took a mental snapshot of Joey, so that he could always remember the older boy laughing like how he was doing at this moment. "Man, you got some long eyelashes, dude!" the curly haired boy gently scoffed.

Batting his long, dark lashes, the sixteen year old raised his own voice to a feminine pitch and said, "Speak for yourself, honey. Look at the set you got on yourself!"

Both boys giggled together like girls, but the cold gusty wind soon stole their mirth as the teens shivered in the dark. "Look, it's gettin' real late. You better head on home, kid. I'll walk ya till we get to your block." Joey said, rubbing his bloody palm against his worn and faded jeans. Hopping off the crate, Joey turned to help the younger boy jump down, watching as Davey clutched his ribs. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'll live," Davey said sarcastically, causing the older boy to grin again, deep dimples appearing at the corners of his mouth.

"Shit, with an attitude like that, I doubt any chick will marry you!" Joey teased.

"Just shut up, meathead," Davey grinned, snickering as the older boy threw his arm around his shoulders. "Hey careful where you touch, Campanella. I don't give out on first dates."

"Jerk," Joey murmured fondly as both boys began the walk home to Davey's house. "You'll be givin' out soon enough, kid!" The dark of the night eventually swallowed up both figures in its encompassing shadows, but the older boy's voice could still be heard if one was listening to their conversation. 'Just remember Davey, I'm older than you and I can still kick your ass . . ."

~finis~

A/N: You like? Let me know . . .