Disclaimer: This story is pure for fun. No money is being made from this. The characters of Starsky and Hutch don't belong to me, but Stef does.
Rating: PG13
Related Episode: Bloodbath (Epilogue).
Warning: Angst ahead, some graphic scenes and some mild swearing.
Thanks as always goes to Elsa for her incredible beta work. Also to Starsky's Strut for her encouragement and for doing some of the beta work that I obviously couldn't ask Cindy to do.
I'm writing this story for Cindy E, my beta and Jill. I don't usually do requests, but I made an exception in this case and I decided to put all of it into one story. Cindy, you wanted some Angst, I hope I succeeded. And Jill, thank you for letting me use your inside view on liquids.
"Liquids"
(Kreek©March05)
Chapter 1
He loved it. He always had. The chase down the streets, the screeching of wheels, the adrenaline rushing through his body as they closed in on the perp. More often though, they were in the car, not running through dark grey streets and small empty alleyways.
Like now.
Although it was the middle of the night, he was sharply aware of his surroundings. The air that escaped his mouth quickly evaporated in white puffs of smoke as his highly heightened senses were tingling with adrenaline. Focussed on the chase, he was also extremely aware of the moves his partner was making. Right now the man was running around the building to head off the perp's escape. At moments like these he almost felt one with him.
He followed the quickly running shadow in front of him with his weapon drawn.
"Freeze. Police!"
The shadow disappeared in a dark space between the two buildings. He ran to it, his steps faltering as he entered the narrow lane. It was small, very small. There was only room for one man at most. It was more a crack between the two large buildings than an alleyway.
His feet suddenly felt like lead. The walls kept closing in on him. He stopped as he eyed the dark walls of the adjacent buildings, following them into the deep darkness beyond. Fear, unreasonable and unfounded, but there nevertheless, settled itself in his stomach.
It's nothin', there's nothin' to be afraid of!
But his body wouldn't listen. His mind was screaming at him to get out of there. His heart was racing, telling him of untold terrors hiding in the dark, terrors that, without any warning, could cause intolerable pain. Mercilessly, they drowned out the small reasoning voice, the cop inside, the joy.
And David Michael Starsky froze.
Hutch came running up from behind his dark curly headed partner, after having encircled the entire bulk of the two buildings.
"Where'd he go?" He panted heavily as he leaned against the wall trying to catch his breath. His blond hair now looked grey in the absence of daylight.
"You didn't see him?"
"Starsky, would I be standing here… panting my lungs out… if I had!" He put his Magnum away and looked at his partner. "I thought you were right behind him! What happened?"
Starsky paced anxiously back and forth. "He went in there," he stated simply, gesturing at the narrow, dark slide between the walls as if that explained everything.
Hutch, still gasping for air, frowned at his partner. It was too dark to see his face, but the blond didn't need any lights to be able to read the tension building up in the man.
"I had him Hutch, I just…"
Hutch caught his partner's eyes for a moment, before Starsky tore them away. Much to Hutch's frustration, he abruptly changed the subject.
"Forget it, huh? I've had enough for one night. Shift ends right now, buddy. I'm signing us out."
Before the blond could get another word out between panting breaths, Starsky had marched back to the Torino. Hutch bit his lip. This was the second time his partner had frozen. The second time they had lost the chase. And the second time Starsky stubbornly refused to talk about it.
Hutch quickly pushed himself off the wall and walked after the sturdy shape, which was disappearing in the darkness. He managed to grab his partner by the arm, just as Starsky was about to enter the car.
The streetlight reflected on the top of the Torino, bathing them in eerie reddish-yellow light. Starsky was forced to stop. He tried to avoid Hutch's eyes, but the blond wouldn't let him. The question Hutch asked silently was as clear as if he had spoken it out loud.
Starsky sighed and looked away, not really seeing anything. "I'm tellin' ya Hutch, one minute I'm fine and the other…"
"It's okay, Starsk."
"No." Frustration and anger came boiling to the surface. "No, it's not okay Hutch! What good a cop am I when I can't even catch a two-bit punk like that? I froze, partner! Again!"
"Yeah." Hutch quickly intervened; trying to quell his partner's boiling temper. "And so did I once, remember? It's not the end of the world."
Starsky pointed an angry finger at him. "For you, maybe. It doesn't work that way for me. It's all or nothing. It's been what? Three weeks, since those Simon-creeps got their hands on me?"
Hutch nodded, feeling slightly bitter at recalling the whole ordeal. There weren't many people who got under his skin, but Simon Marcus had been one of them. When his cult had kidnapped Starsky, Hutch had tried to interrogate Simon. It had left him severely shaken up. Simon was crazy, but at the same time, he seemed to be able to look right into his soul.
"You won't hurt me," the man had said. "You're the white knight."
Hutch still shivered at the thought of Simon's voice, at the accuracy of his words. As if Simon's blackness had reached into the core of his being and had pulled out Hutch's essence. He had taken a step back, had fallen silent, something he rarely did when interrogating a prisoner, especially one that held the key to Starsky's whereabouts.
It had been even worse for Starsky. He had been at the receiving end of half a dozen of those creeps. Hutch had seen the wounds, heard the story and still could only imagine what it must have been like.
Some of Hutch's desperation must have shown on his face for Starsky managed to control his anger somewhat. "Three weeks Hutch. What if I freeze when it really matters? Huh? What if I can't do my job anymore? You can't keep covering for me forever. Maybe you should think about hitting the streets with someone more reliable."
The words abruptly shook Hutch back to reality. He stared at his partner, for a moment unable to believe what Starsky had just said. He bit back a rising anger at the hurt his partner had unwillingly inflicted. Then worry replaced anger in the blink of an eye and overshadowed a damaged pride.
"Get in," Hutch's voice sounded a little more shaken up than he intended to as some of his anger slipped through. He motioned to the passenger door while looking sternly at his partner, who now wore a slightly culpable expression on his face. Yes, buddy boy. You just went over the line! "Get in!"
"But Hutch, this is my car!"
"I don't care, I'm driving. Now get in!"
"But-?"
Hutch raised his finger.
"All right, all right," Starsky complied, walking over to the right side of the Torino and entering with a sigh.
When Hutch had slammed the driver's door shut, he turned to his partner who cringed in his seat, clearly aware of what was to come. Hutch opened his mouth to speak, but recalling the fear he had tasted earlier in Starsky's words, didn't have the heart to rant at him and closed it again. Instead, he sat back again in the black leather seat and cursed. "Dammit Starsk…"
Starsky sighed and sat up. "Yeah, guess I shouldn't have said that."
Hutch shook his head. They were both tired and a good night's sleep would do both of them a world of good. "It's all right. Just forget about it, okay."
Starsky nodded and with a sigh grabbed the mike. "This is Zebra three to Control, we lost him… we're logging out."
A pleasant voice answered him. "Roger Zebra Three. You are logged out at 1.55 AM, have a good night Starsky."
"You too Mildred."
The kid sat crouched beneath a little overhang on top of the roof, the dark hiding his features. From his comfortable resting point the thief could see both men's silhouettes standing out against the Torino.
They're good, they almost had me. For a moment, right before he had ducked into that alley way Stef had been sure he'd get caught. He still shivered at the thought. It had been a long time since someone had gotten this close to catching him. Four years to be exact, and he'd lost Will when it happened.
Doubling back on your chasers was a trick Stef had learned to do since then. He was a professional, one who, right now, had escaped by sheer luck. He peered down, making sure not to move an inch.
Damn, I've never seen two cops work so efficiently together before. While running, he had sensed the silent communication between the two, even after they'd split up. It was eerie. Even dangerous, they had come far too close. He had to know their weak spot or next time he wouldn't be so lucky. So why did they stop the pursuit?
He studied their moves and their chemistry. Will, I hope you're listening, cos it's gonna take a little angel on my shoulder to get rid of these two. They're…, pausing his thoughts for a moment, he got caught in a distant memory … good.
As he listened to their conversation an idea began to form. Split them up, it's my only chance. Get this Starsky one alone… then use his fears against him.
But he didn't like it. He didn't like it at all.
They drove off in silence, but when they neared Venice Place, Starsky suddenly began to speak. "Hey, wanna grab a bite?"
"What, now? Starsk, it's two in the morning!"
"Yeah, but I'm hungry, man."
"If you're gonna eat now, you're going to have belly aches again in the morning." Hutch warned. Starsky had been suffering from acute bellyaches lately, mostly after he'd eaten and of course, the man had refused to see a doctor.
"I'm hungry," the dark haired detective whined again. "What d' ya want me to do, starve to death?"
"You could go and see a doctor Starsk, after that, you can eat whenever and whatever you like."
"No thanks, I've had my fill of those quacks. They checked me out three weeks ago and I was fine then. This is just some bug I picked up, nothing else."
Their conversation was cut short as they arrived at Hutch's apartment. The blond exited the Torino and then leaned into the open window as Starsky was sliding over to the driver's side. "See ya tomorrow partner, twelve thirty and try to get some sleep."
Starsky nodded with a reassuring smile. "I'll be there," he said. "Mind letting go?"
Hutch withdrew his hands and stood back. While watching the Torino disappearing down the street, he couldn't help but feel worried. Hutch knew Starsky wasn't sleeping well ever since the kidnapping. It had left his partner irritable and at the same time, slightly overactive. But that wasn't what worried him the most.
Starsky was scared.
Over the last few weeks, Hutch had been on the receiving end of a couple of angry outbursts, which were quickly followed by some of Starsky's near desperate attempts to have Hutch not leave him alone. Asking him for a bite to eat at two a.m. was such an attempt. Usually Hutch complied, but it didn't seem to help much. If anything, the more Hutch gave in, the more anxious his partner became.
Tired, he made his way upstairs, and reached for the key above his doorframe. He was about to unlock the front door when he froze. Then a smile started to tug at the corner of his mouth. Starsky had sped off the wrong way. He shook his head as he recalled the glint in his partner's eyes when Starsky had driven off. Grinning at the stubbornness of his curly haired partner, Hutch let himself in.
Starsky had gone straight to the all-night take-out joint.
Chapter 2
Black robed figures were ganging up on him. The darkness only revealed their voices, but he could picture the black robes with the stitched on, upside down red cross, as clear as day, despite the blindfold.
"Simon, Simon, Simon…"
The voices grew steadily louder, a mantra coming from uncaring, zombie-like people driven by insanity, bestowing fear into the very core of his being.
He felt their determination, their calm hatred for him. He heard it in every tone of that two-syllable word. He was to die in the most painful way possible, simple.
"Simon, Simon, Simon…"
The voices closed in on him and he curled up in a ball, knowing what was to come. Between one 'Simon' and the next, the kickings and beatings began. He couldn't see anything. The dark kept unleashing its horrible pains on him. No warnings, no time to relax as the beatings continued. One after the other, sometimes seconds apart, sometimes it took minutes for them to start again. He never knew beforehand. He could only lay there in complete blindness, his body tensing up upon every 'Simon' he heard, trying to anticipate the next blow.
Someone took off his blindfold. Hutch was there and laughed at him, picking him up from the floor. "I just got myself another partner, partner. One who is reliable, sensible," he sneered.
The words left him feeling utterly alone. His heart froze in fear as his faith in his partner's willingness to protect him came crashing down. He had no defence left against the harsh reality that wanted him dead. Hutch's face vanished. A bearded, twisted one replaced it. The man grabbed him roughly by the hair and spoke in a frightening cold voice. "At dawn, the dream is ending, Pig."
Starsky gasped, for a moment frozen between being asleep and awake, as the dark of the bedroom surrounded him. Fear raced through him. Fear, and a severe pain in his abdomen. As he fought to wake up, he unconsciously connected the pain to Simon. Starsky found himself unable to move, believing the man had really beaten the crap out of him a few seconds ago.
But then he remembered the food he had eaten before going to bed. Anger set in and made him shake off the cold fingers of terror that were pinning him to the mattress. With a grunt he slowly sat up and buried his face in his hands. He sat there for a while, trying to let go of the vivid, horrific images of his nightmare.
"Shit," he cursed wholeheartedly.
As he started to feel somewhat awake, he got up to get to the kitchen. A severe cramp wouldn't let him. Dizzy with pain he sat back down again and sucked in his breath as the pangs brought back unpleasant memories. Already worked over by the nightmare, Starsky couldn't help but let the terror of the day that Vic Bellamy had poisoned him take hold of him.
As the memories came, so did the cold sweat of fear.
Shaking now he fumbled in the darkness for the phone, dialling a number he knew by heart. "Hutch," he whispered when his partner answered in a sleepy voice. "I think I need a doctor."
Hutch sat wearily in the waiting room while the doctor examined his partner. The room contained only two other occupants this early in the morning; a red haired woman in her thirties and a young girl who Hutch assumed was her daughter. Leaning his head back against the wall, Hutch looked at the girl with tired eyes.
The girl, maybe eight years old, spotted his stare, stopped playing with the toys in the toy area and walked up to him. Big green eyes, covered by an occasional red lock of hair, were curiously looking up at him. "Are you here to see the doctor too?"
Hutch lifted his head and smiled at her. "Nope, just waiting for a friend of mine."
"I have tummy aches. That's why I'm here, I'm on a … on a…" She looked over her shoulder to her mother.
"A diet, honey."
She nodded fiercely. "It's no fun at all; I'm not allowed to eat anything." She pouted.
Hutch looked up at the mother. "No, I guess it's not huh?"
The mother sighed. "Have you ever tried to keep an eight year old from eating all the stuff they like at that age?"
Hutch shook his head. The little girl returned to the play area and happily continued with what she'd been doing.
"Believe me," the mother said with a smile. "It's war at home."
Hutch felt a hard stone settle in the pit off his stomach. He's not gonna put Starsk on a diet, is he? He grunted inside, as that would mean hell on earth for the both of them.
Before his thoughts could dwell on the matter, the doctor's door was roughly pulled open and his obviously wound up partner stalked out into the waiting room. Without a glance in Hutch's direction, Starsky yanked his jacket and his gun, carefully concealed underneath the jacket from the blond's hands and paced angrily out of the room.
Hutch muttered an "Excuse me" and quickly walked after him.
"Starsk, will you wait up!"
Starsky turned on the busy sidewalk and pierced his trailing partner with an accusing stare before mercilessly marching over to where they'd parked the LTD earlier. It took Hutch a couple of long strides to catch up with him.
"Starsk, what did he say?"
Starsky stopped rather abruptly as he put on his gun belt, adjusting it to fit neatly over his sweater. He pointed an angry finger at the door they'd just exited. "That man is a quack."
"You're on a diet, huh? That's not so bad Starsk, it's-"
While putting on his jacket, the brunet gave Hutch a look that could kill. The blond wisely swallowed the rest of the sentence. "Six weeks Hutch, six damned weeks!"
"Well…"
"It's easy for him to say. Just six weeks! Tell me, huh, how am I gonna live through six weeks without food?"
Hutch froze, fixing him with an incredulous stare. "He told you to stop eating for six weeks?"
"Not exactly. He told me my stomach is rather sensitive right now, what with the beatings and all, so…"
"So?"
"So I'm going to have to lay off the solid food. I'm only allowed to take in liquids. For six weeks!"
Hutch found his mouth was hanging open. Whatever he had expected the diet to be, this was not it. In another time and place he might have been terribly amused, but not now. To have to work with a partner who wasn't allowed to 'eat' anything was hard. To have to work with a Starsky who wasn't allowed to eat solids was just plain disastrous.
With an effort Hutch tried to lighten up the situation. "Liquids can be very nutritious too, you know."
Starsky pointed a finger at his chest. "Not in my book they ain't!" He paced away, grumpily pulled open the passenger door of the LTD and settled himself inside.
Hutch took a deep breath before entering the driver's side. "Six weeks, huh?" He said, trying to ignore the brooding man that now sat next to him and started the engine.
"Yup, six long foodless weeks, forty-two days. I'm never gonna survive this Hutch."
Hutch couldn't help but smile. Starsky had just survived the most extreme form of kidnapping, but somehow found the prospect of not getting at least one chilli dog once a day an insurmountable obstacle.
"Starsk, as long as you get all your proteins and vitamins, you'll be okay."
Starsky looked sideways. "I'm not you Hutch, I can't live on a mix of decimated livers."
"Desiccated, and hey, you might have to." Hutch couldn't help but grin as his partner's eyes went wide with realization.
"Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no. You're not gonna make me drink those concoctions of yours!"
"If you want to keep up that great stamina of yours, you've got no choice, buddy."
Starsky lowered his head in complete misery. "Oh God, why is this happening to me?"
"Cheer up partner." Hutch slapped the slummed form next to him on the knee and drove off. "It's not the end of the world."
"You're really enjoying this, are you?" Starsky retorted, arms crossed, looking for very much like the pouting child Hutch encountered earlier.
"Starsk, how can you say that?" Effortlessly blending in the LTD into early mornings' traffic, Hutch uttered one extra line with a straight face. "Besides if the livers don't work, we can always try the kelp-shakes."
Chapter 3
Ever so slowly the body fell backwards into the calm, quiet waters of the pool. The loud splash didn't quite reach his ears, because the noise was being blocked out by the rushingsound of fear. For a fraction of a second the water seemed to resist the crude breaking of its surface. Then it relented, and hungrily, swallowed up the dead weight.
He watched in shock as the body sank to the bottom, watched, as the color of the water changed from a soothing blue to a frightening deep red.
Nooooo!
Stef woke up with a gasp. The age-dust lying thickly on the white sheets surrounding him, swirled upwards at his sudden movement. Before he could help it, some of the dust-bunnies got caught in his mouth and he started to cough, helplessly, his eyes watering to clear his vision. Where the hell am I? Slowly it started to sink in.
The attic.
He was in an attic of a currently unoccupied house. Its owners were on vacation for the next two weeks and he'd made it his home for the short while that they were gone. Wiping the dust from his face, his attention was drawn towards the small attic window above him. The full moon outside cast the room in a white glow. He lowered his eyes to look at the ghostly shapes of the sheets. They covered up ancient furniture, junk and old boxes containing long forgotten memories. Nothing that was of any value to him, nothing he could use.
He lay back down on the rough rush mat he'd found and used as a mattress and closed his eyes. That splash. That loud splash. He could still hear it. The only thing managing to smother the watery noise was the loud bang, which had preceded it: the sound of a gun going off.
Running, we had been running from the police. A tear broke free and the wooden beams of the ceiling momentarily blurred.
Old fears had started to surface again, from the moment he'd nearly got caught today. The unwanted memories had plagued him for the rest of the evening and when he'd finally gone to sleep the dreams had come. This was the third time he'd woken up tonight.
The tear rolled down his cheek to drop silently onto the mat. Damn cops! If only I'd gone with him, if only I hadn't been stupid enough to listen to him and go up.
He and Will had just done some 'exploring' of a house similar to the one he was in now; its rich owners were gone for the weekend. It was essential to know little details like this if you wanted to survive on the streets. Sadly, the only valuable thing they found wasa kitchen cupboard, well stocked up with food. He remembered feeling elated at the prospect of finally going to have a decent meal. They'd stuffed the food in a duffel bag, and sneaked out again through a first floor window. Damn cops. They had been waiting for us…
In the early morning light, from his position at the window Will had seen the telltale outline of the two lawmen, hiding on the far side of the pool, moments before Stef did. You pushed the bag into my hands and told me to go up... God, Will, why did I listen to you? He sighed, his mind providing him with the answer a second later. It was a move, which had kept them alive so far: When the police were on your tail, go up. You know the roofs, the drop downs, the tricky surfaces. They don't. It was a rule he still used today.
Stef sighed. If only he'd followed me up.
Instead, Will had jumped down to draw their attention away from him and the food he was carrying. Why did you have to be so damn chivalrous? Why…? His thoughts halted with an inner sob, as the memory of a cold voice rang through his head. It was shouting at the lone figure, now making his way around the pool area.
"Freeze, Police!"
Stef had frozen on the roof; just as Will had done beneath him. The two cops had come out of hiding, guns trained on the elder thief. Stef couldn't see their faces, but he was sure Will could. He remembered the breath getting caught in his throat. He remembered silently begging Will to comply with their wishes, but he didn't.
Why did you draw your knife, for God's sake? You didn't stand a chance. You must have known that?
The question still haunted him. I know you didn't like being cornered, but… you shouldn't have… The cops had fired, two guns going off simultaneously, ending one life, and destroying a hidden one on the roof as Will had fallen backwards into that pool.
The bitter memory made the young thief bite his lip until he tasted blood. Someday they will pay for what they've done. Cop or not, you can't just kill someone like Will, and get away with it. All we did was steal some food… it was pure survival. It still is.
His thoughts turned bitter as he thought about today's events. Cops! He'd been far too lenient on them, always running instead of using his skills against them. They had killed Will, they didn't deserve his mercy. Next time you two hotshots come after me, I won't be so chivalrous.
Two weeks after Starsky's memorable appointment with the doctor, Hutch's calm, soothing nature was down the drain. If he'd thought having Starsky on a diet was going to be disastrous earlier, he was wrong. It was completely and utterly destructive for the both of them.
It wasn't all that obvious in the beginning. Starsky really put some effort into it and even borrowed Hutch's blender. To Hutch's dismay he used it to liquefy anything he could get his hands on, from burritos to chilidogs and drank it with his usual optimism.
But his partner was hungry. Not the simple slight pangs of the stomach, but really hungry. All of the time. The jealousy was written all over his face whenever he saw Hutch eating something, even if it was just a carrot. So Hutch stopped eating as well when Starsky was around. It was a small price to pay, but the looks of hunger Starsky threw him didn't change.
Hutch tried to keep his partner from cheating. On more than one occasion he had to snatch a donut or a candy bar from Starsky's hands. He also found himself driving his partner home during working hours to force the man to drink a health shake. Starsky yelled at him, but eventually let Hutch have his way, becoming somewhat acquiescent of the situation.
Hutch didn't like it.
A silent Starsky was three times worse than a complaining one and although everyone seemed to think his partner had regained some of his old self again, Hutch knew better. The angst was still there. So were the nightmares. Couple that with a famishing man and the resulting picture was frightening the hell out of him.
To Starsky's credit, he didn't let any of it affect their working relationship on the streets. Hutch admired him for that. But how long can you keep this up, partner?
He was busy doing some research on their latest case: two burglaries that had ended up in the murder of the unfortunate tenants present at the time. A sliced artery in the throat performed with surgical precision had caused both victims to bleed to death. So far the Detectives had no leads what so ever, even Huggy had uncharacteristically kept his mouth shut.
Meticulously, he sifted through the results pathology had just given them. It looks like the same man did all these killings, according to the lab, the incisions in the neck of both victims were probably done with the same knife.
Hutch's eyes were suddenly drawn to his partner, who sat across from him at the table typing a report. He frowned.
The sound of fingers hitting the keys ceased, leaving an uncomfortable silence in its wake. "What are you looking at?"
"You're shaking," he replied in a lowered voice.
"Yep."
That was it, nothing more. No explanation. It drove Hutch crazy. There wasn't any anger at all. "Starsky…"
His partner resumed his typing. He didn't look up as he spoke, his tone aloof. "Stop doing that."
"What?"
"Watching me all the time. I'm all right"
Hutch knew this might not be the right time or place to knock some sense into the man, but the emotionless state his partner was in, drove him crazy. Touring their beat was done in silence, no laughter, no anger, no nothing. The passion in Starsky's eyes was slowly dwindling, like a dying torchlight. And it was affecting Hutch on a deep emotional level.
He leaned in, careful to speak softly so the other four detectives currently occupying the squad room couldn't overhear their conversation. His words were harsh none the less. "You're not all right."
Starsky kept silent. He stopped typing; staring at the report he had just filled out.
Hutch was sure his smaller counterpart wasn't reading one word of it. Against his better judgement Hutch continued to push. "It's not just the food is it?"
"Shut up."
"Starsky, I know you're scared."
Starsky grabbed the coffee cup and drank a sip, his fingers nearly squashing the paper cup in pent-up frustration.
"You think I don't know how you feel? The nightmares, the anxiety? What the hell are you so afraid of?"
"Shut… up…" Starsky whispered fiercely, anger now colouring the words.
"Finally, some anger." Hutch hissed.
Starsky looked up at him, his eyes filled with barely contained rage. He stood up abruptly and in a few strides had walked out of the room. The other detectives looked up at his departure, suddenly becoming aware of the words the two men were having. Hutch hung his head. This was getting them nowhere. Sighing but determined, he stood up to go after his partner.
He had barely left the squad room when his arm was taken in a firm grip that roughly turned him around and threw him backwards. The connection with the nearby wall knocked the wind out of him. The unsuspected hostile words coming from his partner added to his shock.
"You're pushing me, buddy. And I… don't… like it!"
Hutch, normally not taking this from anybody, froze at the outburst.
Starsky squeezed the arm a little harder as he continued in anger. "What d' you hope to accomplish with your little words of wisdom back there, huh? I told you I'm all right!"
"Starsk, you're hurting me…"
As if bitten by a snake, his partner let him go, but there was no remorse in his eyes.
Hutch visibly shivered at the coldness in those eyes. Starsky had never turned on him before and the blond couldn't help but look confusedly at his partner. For a moment Hutch had sensed something in the brunet that he didn't like at all.
Starsky heaved as if the outburst had taken an excessive amount of energy. The wild look in his eyes slowly left him as he apparently regained control over himself. He took a few steps back, then pointed a finger at his partner. "You want me to become real angry? Show my feelings? You don't know what you're asking pal."
Hutch didn't answer, just closed his eyes and looked down. This went so much deeper then he'd thought. He had not expected this, but could do nothing other then let Starsky take it out on him.
However, Hutch's lack of reaction didn't go down too well with his partner. Starsky was on him again in a second, pinning him once again against to the wall with dreadful force, one arm cutting off his airway. The fact that Starsky didn't even raise his voice when he spoke made him sound that much more frightening, "You hear me? Don't play those games with me, don't push me."
Hutch couldn't help it, the fear lashed through him. He tried to fight his partner off, but Starsky turned out to be remarkably sturdy in his anger. It was like trying to move a wall of cement. "Starsk…" He managed to whisper in clear fright.
His partner stopped ranting as the word broke through his unleashed anger. Realization about what he was doing dawned in his eyes and Starsky let go with a gasp.
"God, Hutch… I…"
The silence between them hung like a sword in the air.
Hutch, catching his breath, pushed away the fear and angst that kept him pinned against the wall and put one hand on the shaking one of his partner, who now stared at the floor. "It's okay. Starsk… It's okay."
But it wasn't. Inwardly Hutch still shook in fright over what had just happened and he knew Starsky felt the same. He felt it pulsing through the shaking hands he now held in his. Hutch knew very well Starsky always spared him his feelings, especially his anger. Only now did he realize how much effort that had cost his friend lately. He looked at him; feeling utterly drained and decided things needed some lifting up. "Come on. You need to eat."
At that Starsky looked up in surprise. "Eat?"
Hutch gave a thin smile. "Yeah, you know what it means to eat, right? Come on."
He dragged a dumbfounded Starsky after him to the cantina.
Hutch placed him at a table and went looking for something in the kitchen, returning after a while with a steaming bowl of soup, filled with soft meat and vegetables. "Eat it."
Starsky stared at him, then back at the soup.
"If you eat it and be a good boy, I promise I'll arrange for you to get this here every day."
Slowly Starsky started eating, then stopped. "Hutch…"
"Just eat partner."
A glint of the old Starsky appeared in the cobalt blue eyes as he looked over the steaming soup at Hutch in a genuine gratified way. "Thanks."
Hutch nodded and left his partner. He headed up the stairs and stood quietly at the top for one moment. He rubbed his face, trying to get rid of the paralysing fear that had taken hold of him the moment Starsky had charged at him. With a deep sigh he headed back to the squad room.
tbc