Hi All,

Finally here it is, the last chapter. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you all so much for your taking the time to read and review.

As always, hugs and thanks to the Usual Suspects. I couldn't do this without your help and support! Pony, massive hugs for listening to me muddle through the story line!

The idea for this story came from the Shedaisy song "A Woman's Work".

No real warnings, a couple of bad words and a bad joke at the end.

Chapter 10

Starsky shifted again, his weak movements tugged at Hutch's heart, pulling it in two directions. One direction found hope, the other despair. "Shhh, shhh, s'okay babe, try not to move, I'll take care of everything." He looked down at his friend's face. Starsky's eyes had sunk into their orbits and his cheeks were hollowed out. He looked like hell. Then again, he was IN hell, so why shouldn't he look like it? Hutch cradled his dying friend to him and began to gently rock as he shushed his partner, unconsciously reverting into the comforting movement that he remembered as a child.

The blond raised his eyes from Starsky's withered features to the grimy walls surrounding them. On the wall section directly across from him, Hutch could make out some scratches. He had squinted in the dim light at the bottom of the well as he tried to understand what they were. A hard look revealed four parallel lines and one diagonal followed by a faint, unfinished sixth line. Their meaning clear. Five nights and six days.

His eyes welled up at the lonely testimony of those marks on the wall. "Oh buddy…" He fingered a stray curl as he imagined his friend scraping way at the stone surface, valiantly tying to leave some mark, some bit of proof of his existence and how long he had endured before succumbing all alone in this pit of despair, with little to no hope that anyone would ever find him.

Silently Hutch's tears began to fall as he remembered when he too had once been trapped and very close to packing it all in. The helplessness, the hopelessness of his ordeal had been bad enough, but at least he could see the sky and there was the meager hope that someone would find him, since he had been out in the open. But down here? All alone, without even the sun to comfort him… Hutch shivered. He remembered how Starsky had been his lifeline; towing him back to life when he felt that giving up would have been far easier and far less painful. He could do no less for his friend, though he wished he could spare him the pain.

Starsky's left hand weakly flailed out, seeking. His cracked lips moved as he issued a dry hiss.

The blond grabbed the hand and pulled it to his chest, "I'm here Starsk, 'm right here."

Starsky's hand tugged and his fingers clenched and released fretfully. The curly head jerked and twitched.

Hutch held the tugging hand in his own as he studied Starsky's face. In the recesses of the sunken eyes, the thick lashes fluttered and opened, unveiling dark blue eyes that slowly blinked and stared at him. "Starsk? You awake?" He lightly jiggled his arm where the heavy, curly head rested on.

Starsky's left hand tugged down and away from his own hand, so Hutch released his grip and watched as Starsky's head lightly bobbed and slowly turned in the crook of his arm. His left hand dug at the dirt beside them. "Starsky, what is it? Huh? What're you lookin' for?"

The left hand kept reaching for something, but failed. Starsky's breathing increased and his face scrunched up in concentration as he reached out again, digging at the loose dirt. A strangled sound gurgled out of the dehydrated man.

His friend tried to roll out of his arms, but Hutch kept a firm grip on him. He looked in the direction of Starsky's line of sight, trying to figure out what was so important to him and that's when he spotted the coin he had pried out of Starsky's hand. Now knowing what he was after, Hutch reached over and picked up the coin and carefully tucked it back into the searching fingers. They snapped around the coin like a Venus flytrap around a fly, knuckles rapidly whitened as the fist clenched tightly over its treasure. The thin shoulders started to shake.

"Starsky? What is it? What's wrong?" Hutch again began gently rocking in an effort to soothe his partner. It was then he realized that the shaking was because Starsky was crying, but no tears were forming in the sunken eyes. Hutch gulped hard as he understood that his partner couldn't cry, he was just too dehydrated.

The blond clutched his dry-weeping partner to his closer to his chest as anger welled up in him at the crazy fortuneteller for withholding water for six days. And then there was his tardy backup… a cloud of anger formed around him as he stewed at them for not showing up the instant he had called for them. Hutch knew he was going to have to leave Starsky and climb up the rope ladder to make another call and find out what the hell was keeping them.

"Starsk, I-I gotta go… just for a minute. I'll be right back, gotta call for help, 'kay?" Hutch explained as he carefully began to ease his friend off of his lap and back on to the dirt floor. Starsky weakly grabbed at his shirt with his right hand, twisting his fingers into the fabric and tugging at it. Hutch looked down and saw that the brunet's eyes were once again open.

Starsky's sunken eyes pled with him, the cracked lips struggled to form words. A hiss escaped the parched throat. Hutch leaned over his friend, getting as close as possible so he could hear what Starsky was struggling to hard to tell him.

Starsky's right hand tugged on Hutch's shirt as he worked hard to speak, "Dooon,"

Hutch put his hand over Starsky's and clutched it to his heart. "Don't try to talk Starsk," Another weak tug pulled directly on the blond's heartstrings. Knowing his friend was determined to try, the blond caved, "Okay… okay, but keep it short, huh?" He gave a watery chuckle and teeter-totter dangerously close to a full blown crying jag.

Starsky worked very hard to speak.

Hutch wanted to kick himself for not bringing some water down into this hole with him. "It's s'okay buddy," he encouraged.

"Dooon' go," Was the ghostly whisper from Starsky's parched throat.

Tears pricked at Hutch's eyes, sharp little reminders that he had fluid enough in his body to make them, "S'okay Starsk, I'll be right back, 'kay? Don't go nowhere." They both knew what Hutch meant. Those words weren't meant as a sarcastic statement, it was Hutch telling Starsky not to die while he was gone.

Light blue eyes locked onto recessed, dark blue ones.

Hutch tried with every fiber of his being, to somehow give his partner the energy, the reserves to continue. For just a little while longer until further assistance arrived.

Starsky's eyes let Hutch know that if he left, he might not be here when the blond returned.

Hutch peered deep into Starsky's sunken eyes, and then he looked up at the well opening high above them. He could leave and call for help again, but Starsky would likely die before he got back. Or he could wait down here until they arrived. Or lastly he could put Starsky over his shoulder and carry him up, which would endanger both of them for one slip could send them both tumbling.

He looked back into his friend's eyes; saw the utter despair and fading spark of life and Hutch's mind was made up. No way in hell was his friend gonna die and certainly not in this hellhole. "All right Starsk, we're gettin' outta here… together." He brushed the backs of his knuckles over Starsky's temple before putting his hand behind the heavy head to support it as he lifted his friend into a sitting position.

"This ain't gonna be comfortable trip buddy." Hutch said as he eased the limp body over his right shoulder in a fireman's carry. The lanky detective slowly rose to his feet and looked up the ladder to the circle of light fifty feet above his head. His friend had lost a lot of weight during his confinement; it was still going to be a tough climb. He could feel a shiver ran through Starsky's frame. "Easy buddy," he wrapped his left arm around the dangling legs to steady the brunet and keep him from sliding off his shoulder. The blond took a deep, fortifying breath before starting his ascent.

He took each rung slowly, taking his time while still moving as quickly as he dared. The oxymoron of his actions did not surpass him. As he took the next rung up, he noticed a something in a crack in the wall. It was a fingernail and the brown smears around it were likely dried blood. Hutch swallowed hard at the idea of Starsky trying to claw his way to out of the well. It was just like him not to give up. Hutch took the next rung; he didn't have time to concern himself now with the horrifying image that the ripped out fingernail held.

The strain on Hutch's shoulders, back and legs was tremendous but he maintained a steady pace as he climbed rest of the way out of the pit. When he gained the surface, he carefully eased Starsky off of his shoulder and onto the rim of the well. He climbed the rest of the way out and paused for a moment, panting in the dirt before pulling his partner away from the hole and into the bright sunlight.

Hutch was about to head to the LTD to call about the ETA of his help when he heard distant sound of wailing sirens approaching. The raucous hodgepodge of sounds was music to his ears. He settled next to Starsky and gently pulled him onto his lap again. He adjusted the curly head back into the crook of his arm and put a hand to his friend's chest, feeling the rise and fall of the lungs beneath his palm. "D'ya hear that Starsk?"

He looked down at Starsky's face and was rewarded with a fragile smile before the sunken eyelids slowly shut. Worried, Hutch called his name. A shiver racked the dehydrated body. Starsky was likely beginning to slip into shock. Hutch knew he needed to keep his friend conscious, "Stay with me Starsk… just stay with me, d'ya hear?"

A twitch of movement brought the blond's attention to Starsky's right hand and he gently picked it up to examine it. Fresh blood was dripping sluggishly out of one of the tips. The rest were crusty with dried blood and dirt. Several small, half moon shapes had been gouged out in several spots along the most damaged of the fingers, causing Hutch to briefly wonder what they were and how they got there. "How'd you get these buddy? Huh?"

"ush…" A weak, parched cough interrupted Starsky.

The whisper brought Hutch's attention back to his partner's face. "Yeah Starsk?"

"ush…"

"I'm here, buddy, right here," the lanky detective placed his hand on Starsky's forehead, it was growing warm. A fever was coming on. The sound of the sirens grew closer.

M'key… " Starsky seemed to be fighting against the weight of his eyelids, struggling to keep them open.

"What?" Hutch asked as the curly head twisted slightly in the crook of his arm.

The dry throat worked hard to form words. "M'key… down… there…"

A frown beetled Hutch's brow as he worked to listen to his partner over the ever-increasing sounds of the approaching sirens, both police and fire department from the different sirens. "Your key?" The blond shook his head, obviously Starsky was becoming delirious, "Um… yeah, your key, got it. Don't worry about it, 'kay? "

The dirty head shook 'no' in his arm as he struggled to speak "M'key… save… M'key…"

"Don't worry Starsk, someone will get your key for you, alright? Just rest, don't try to talk any more." He softly knuckled the sunken cheek, feeling the heat of a rising fever as he did so. "S'okay, I'll take care of it." At those words, Starsky went completely limp in his arms. "Starsk?"

XXXX

Captain Harold Dobey pulled up behind the fire truck and parked his car, ignoring the sign on the back of the truck that warned 'Stay back 500 feet'. He walked hurriedly to where the action was. He also noticed -as he walked over it- a flattened white picket fence and torn up grass that led into the backyard of the immaculate little home. Hutchinson had obviously been in a hurry. Dobey broke into a trot and followed the twin trail of car tracks to a small crowd made up of police officers and fire fighters.

In the center of the commotion, he could just pick out a familiar white-blond head in the occasional breaks in the center of the crowd and made a beeline for it. He elbowed his way through the small group and took note of the solemn faces. It was like the eye of a storm, the closer to the center he got, the quieter it became. Dread filled him as he broke through the last of the small gathering.

Hutch was sitting on the ground with a withered and pale Starsky in his arms. A bald paramedic was putting an IV into Starsky's right arm. Dobey gave a sigh of relief. They would only do that for someone who was alive. As soon as the line was in, they carefully lifted the limp detective onto the waiting gurney and with a lot more people then necessary helping; Starsky was loaded on to the ambulance, which was parked next to the LTD.

Hutch was climbing in the ambulance after his partner when Dobey caught up and tugged on his sleeve. "Hutchinson, how did you find him?"

"Ruby Tuesday is responsible. You'll find her dead at the bottom of the cliff, through those bushes," the lanky detective pointed. "Have the crime lab check out that well, that's where she kept him. His key is down there, he wants it." With that, Hutch closed the ambulance doors.

"His key?" Dobey shook his head as he watched the ambulance pull out of the yard before wandering over to look down into the well.

XXXX

One hour later at the bottom of Ruby Tuesday's well.

"Good God, it really stinks down here. How come they never tell you about some of the shit jobs you end up doing when you're goin' to school for this, huh Gil?" Sam from the crime lab spoke to the other as they carefully started to dig in the bottom of the well, loading dirt into a pail that was then hauled to the surface for a closer look by other members of the team.

Gil simply shrugged "Did you know that the only job where you start at the top is digging ditches?"

"Why do you always answer a question with a question?" The other man stopped digging for a moment and leaned on his shovel.

"Why do you always ask me the same questions whenever we're doing this kind of work? You know us rookies always end up doing the crap jobs."

"Yeah, that don't make it fair though." The other man shook his head in exasperation as he went back to work digging. He turned over a large rock with his shovel. "Jesus Christ!" He whacked the furry thing without thought.

"HEY! Watch where you're swinging that! You almost hit me!" Gil snapped.

"Sorry, it's a damn rat, it jumped at me."

"A damn dead rat."

"Yeah, it's dead now." Sam whacked it again, just to be sure. "I hate rats."

Gil bent down and picked it up by its tail. "Congratulations Sam, you just killed a dead rat. You must be so proud of yourself." Gil looked up towards the mouth of the well, "It must have been killed by that rock when Tuesday dumped the dirt down on the detective. Good thing that the rock landed on the rat's head instead of that detective's." He handed the dead rat to his coworker.

"Oh yeah." Sam nodded in agreement as he took in the stiff posture of the rat, he knew Gil was right, the rat had been dead for at least a half hour to be in full rigor. "Shut up Grissom. We got work to do." Sam dropped the dead rat into the pail and had started digging again when his shovel hit something else. Both he and Gil stopped and looked at each other. "Only one thing makes that sound when a shovel hits it."

"Bones." Gil agreed.

XXXX

Bay City Memorial Hospital, five days later.

Hutch looked at Starsky through the open door of his room. Starsky was looking much better after being re-hydrated. It had been a very near thing; a matter of moments had meant the difference between life and death. Starsky had just started going into hypovolemic shock. He had lost nearly ten percent of his body weight due to severe dehydration. It had been life threatening medical emergency. But after five days, the doctor had just told him that Starsky was officially on the mend and that there shouldn't be any long-term medical complications.

"Hutch!"

The blond grinned at the joyful greeting and entered the room. "Hey buddy, how're you feelin'?"

"Better," Starsky patted the bed, "sit. I see you finally went home and took a shower and changed. 'Bout time too, that cute little black haired angel… what's-her-name, was in here looking for you again."

"Mitzy?" Hutch supplied as he approached his partner's bed, carefully keeping his package behind his back.

"Yeah! Mitzy, that's her name. She's cute-" Starsky stopped and gave a loud sniff, "You got me a cheeseburger!" He sniffed again, "Fries!" Another long sniff followed, "And a strawberry shake!"

"Down puppy, those are for me." Hutch grinned wolfishly.

"Bullshit! Gimme!" Starsky impatiently snapped his fingers.

The blond sat on the bed and opened the paper bag; he hooked his foot around the leg of the rollaway table and pulled it over before setting the food onto it. He tucked a napkin under Starsky's chin and watched as his friend indulged himself in a fast food frenzy. "Careful buddy, you're just gonna end up puking it all back up if you keep eating that fast."

Starsky chewed up a mouthful and swallowed. "I'll slow down if you tell me what's been goin' on. I heard some of it on the news. What's the body count up to now?"

"So far nine skeletons have been found in the well. Though we can't prove it, Gary Meyer might have been Ruby's first victim. He was found murdered in that abandoned K&C warehouse near the wharf five years ago." Hutch picked up the strawberry shake and helped himself to a sip. He made a face at the sweetness, but kept drinking anyway.

"I thought that Meyer's death was a drug deal gone bad." Starsky looked interested as he stuffed a few fries into his mouth.

Hutch shrugged, "Still don't know for sure, but he was the one that Ruby's little sister, Jewel claimed had attacked and raped her. The judge and jury didn't agree, there just wasn't enough evidence. He was released from custody and murdered three months later."

"So you're thinking he was Ruby's first victim… would you call him a 'victim'?" Starsky took the shake out of his partner's hand and began sipping it.

"He was dirty, no doubt about it. Did he rape Ruby's sister? That I can't answer. I do know that some of the preliminary autopsies –though there's not much left to autopsy- have tentatively matched the dental records of three of the nine men in that well. They came back to some very unpleasant characters. All of those three had records, all had been up to no good and they all had disappeared without anyone knowing or caring what had happened to them. No one had reported any of them missing, as far as R&I can tell." Hutch picked up a French fry, dipped it in catsup and chewed it thoughtfully.

"So much for honor among bad guys. So, Ruby's sister's rapist gets off scott free and that's what sent her over the edge –er, so to speak," Starsky gave him a pained look. "Sorry, I didn't mean to remind you."

"S'okay buddy, I know what you meant. The rest of the story is that after Ruby and her family left the court house, their car was hit by a drunk driver and all but Ruby were killed. Poor Ruby didn't have any one left."

"So she became judge, jury and executioner." Starsky said thoughtfully.

"She almost killed an innocent man, Starsk. She almost killed you." Hutch choked out, he stood up and got some water.

"Though it was out of context, she did 'see' me kill two men and drive away. She was torn up inside. Her mind was torn up too. While I don't like what she did, I can forgive her." The brunet leaned back in his bed and stared at the ceiling tiles.

"Forgive her? Why? You nearly died!" Hutch started to angrily pace the room.

"She didn't kill me outright. She could have. She could have shot me. She didn't. She lowered me into the well instead of dropping me. Fifty feet, Hutch, fifty feet is a long way down. The fall would have killed me. She could have poisoned my coke instead of giving me knock out drops – shoulda recognized her right then, when I stopped to help her with her bike's flat tire. But I didn't. At any rate, she didn't kill me right away. She left clues that led you right to me. I think that somewhere, deep down she wanted to be caught. Maybe some part of her knew I was innocent." Starsky took a small bite of his cheeseburger and then pushed the rest away.

Hutch noticed, walked over and put his hand on his friend's forehead, "You okay? Nothings wrong with the burger, is there?"

Starsky shook his head, "No mom, my stomach's still pretty shrunken. I don't know how you can fast for two days at time. I was about to gnaw off a leg after two days." He gave a half grin. "Speaking of gnawing, whatever happened to Mickey?"

Hutch looked away for a moment, then he turned back, "I buried him, just like you asked me to. I don't know why you wanted me to waste time burying a rat that had been chewing on you." The blond shivered, disgusted at the thought of that happening to his best friend.

Starsky gave him a hurt look, "Mickey was a rat. He was just doing what rats do. It doesn't make him good or bad. It just makes him a rat. He was trying to survive, just like I was."

A knock on the open door interrupted them. "May I come in?" a female voice inquired.

The two men turned to see who it was. It was the angelic looking black-haired nurse, Mitzy and she was carrying a carafe of ice water.

"C'mon in!" the duo chorused and then shared an avaricious look.

"'Lo darlin' comin' ta take my temperature?" Starsky waggled his eyebrows at her.

Mitzy giggled, then spoke with a fake southern drawl, "Why office-ah, ah do declare-ah you are too sweet for words. But no, I'm not here for you." She turned to Hutch, her drawl disappearing and her voice deepened and became sexier, "Hello handsome, are you by any chance Kenny Hutchinson?"

"Ah, my reputation precedes me," Hutch picked up her free hand and kissed the back of it.

"It sure does," Mitzy purred as she dumped the iced water on top of Hutch's bowed head; he stood up straight at the shock of cold water dousing him. When he did, she grabbed his waistband and poured the remaining down the front of his pants. "My sister Patty told me all about you!" Mitzy then flounced to the door. "You stay away from my sister!"

The still shocked partners stared after her. Hutch then turned to look at his friend, cold water and ice cubes sliding and dripping off of him, to puddle around his feet on the floor.

Starsky began to snicker.

Hutch pointed his index finger and gave it a firm shake under Starsky's. He picked up a French fry and stuffed it into his laughing friend's face. "Here, eat this. You are what you eat, you know, so you are junk food." His expression was smug.

Remembering Patty's double D's, Starsky chuckled as he spoke around his fry, "So, that makes you a big boob, doesn't it?"

Hutch turned beet red, whirled around on his heel and sloshed off into the bathroom.

Author note: Yeah, I borrowed Gil Grissom from CSI. He was returned unharmed.