All usual disclaimers apply, I don't own the rights, I don't get money and this is for entertainment only. Please excuse any errors; they are entirely mine.

This story is a Birthday present to Eli. I am posting it with her blessing.

Special thanks to:
Kreek – for her deft guidance and so much else. Shawne- for her staunch sisterly support and timely 'Hutchinson warning finger' and sweet wuemsel – My friends, I'd have quit a long time ago if it weren't for you. Massive hugs to all of you!

Humble thanks to Kate CMT who performed an astonishingly rapid and totally unexpected beta on this story.

I consider this story a group effort, so Eli, this is from all of us...

Mud
By Starsky's Strut

The rain was falling in sheets. California was normally sunny, but recently it had been raining copious amounts. The rivers and streams were swollen, bulging at their banks with muddy water and debris. The weather forecast was monotonous litany of showers expected and flood watches. But like the US Postal Service, Bay City PD had to respond no matter how inclement weather.

Detective Ken Hutchinson held the LTD to a slow crawl as he drove through the streets. The rain was pounding down so hard on the car; it sounded more like small pebbles were being thrown at it than drops of water. They had to backtrack and try alternate routes due to the streets flooding and the sewers backing up. And now he and Starsky were well off their familiar beat.

"I think we're out of our precinct." Hutch remarked. His voice was calm as he carefully maneuvered his car through the torrential deluge.

Starsky squinted at the windshield, attempting to see through the rapidly beating wipers and driving rain. The blades couldn't begin to keep up with the intense downpour. "How can ya tell? I can't even see out the window." He cast his partner a sidelong look.

"What's the matter partner? Getting old? Hmmm? Need glasses? First sign of aging, buddy." The taller detective said as he surreptitiously leaned a hair closer to the windshield.

"Hey, I'm only six months older'n you. Why don't you tell me what street we're on, eagle eyes?" Starsky quipped. There was some tension in the car, but it had nothing to do with either of the detectives. It was all about the rain and they both knew it. "I think you should-"

"-pull over." The blond finished. "As much as it pains me to agree with you, I think you're right."

Starsky halfheartedly whacked Hutch in the arm with the back of his hand.

As much as Hutch hated to admit it, pulling over was the only option left. The rain would eventually stop and they could head back to their own turf once more -provided the streets weren't too flooded to navigate.

The police radio was a continuous stream of calls going out and coming in, but nearly all were in a holding pattern until there was a let up in the storm.

Starsk: turned the police scanner down a little so he could tune the car radio on to a local station to hear the weather report.

"… stationary thunderstorm over the entire Bay City and surrounding areas. Collect your animals and build that arc, we're in for a long night of storms folks. I repeat: there are stationary thunderstorms over the entire Bay City area. We are expecting rainfalls of up to two or three inches per hour, so unless it's a life or death emergency, please stay indoors. Flood warnings have been posted for rivers, streams and low-lying areas. Next up is Ted Kurtis with sports news-"

Starsky snapped the dial back to the off position. "I think we're gonna end up pullin' a double tonight." The brunet shook his head. "I was plannin' on stayin' in and watchin' the game. Ya know, I wish they'd come up with a machine so that people at home could record stuff like that, that way I wouldn't miss a single game." He sighed heavily.

"They do Starsk; they're called video home recorders. They cost about $800 dollars." The blond bumped the two right-side tires on the curb and put the car in park. "They're about this big." He put his hands out about a foot and a half apart. "And about eight to ten inches thick."

Starsky whistled, "Damn, that's a lot of money. But boy, can they pack a lot of technology into a compact space!" He whistled again. "That's incredible, expensive, but incredible. Say, how come you know so much about those, er… whatchamacallits?"

"My father bought one just this year. He wanted the bragging rights of being the first person in Duluth to own one." The blond detective rolled his eyes.

"So, your family is Duluth's version of the Jones – 'keeping up with the Hutchinsons'." Starsky snickered as his Cheshire grin lightened the early evening, rain-soaked gloom.

Hutch snorted. "That's so funny I forgot to laugh-"

The car suddenly shifted beneath them.

"Hey!" Starsky looked around, trying to see out the windows, trying to figure out what was causing the movement.

"What the-" Hutch stomped down on the brakes, it didn't help. The car shouldn't be moving. It was in park and the motor was off. He tromped the pedal a couple more times, just to be sure. He started the motor, hoping they might drive clear of whatever was happening.

Starsky tried to open his door, but couldn't, so he cracked his window and heard the approaching rumble of trees snapping, boulders rolling, water and the steady crunch of big things breaking. He turned to Hutch, his face pale. "Mudslide!"

There was nothing the duo could do but go along for the ride. The car wasn't much protection, but it was somewhat better then being out there in the churning, crushing mass that now surrounded them. The heavy car was lifted and pushed along with the debris like so much flotsam. Not knowing what else to do, Starsky rolled his window back up and wondered if it would do any good.

Deeply concerned about the mess they were now in, Hutch grabbed the radio and yelled into the mic. "Zebra three to Control!"

"Go ahead Zebra three." The voice of the dispatcher was a welcome sound.

"We're caught in a mudslide! We're being carried away, our last known location-" The blond involuntarily yelped as the car began to pick up momentum and it started to tumble as the mud flow slid downhill, taking the auto and its reluctant occupants on a wild ride that was much like being in a washing machine stuck in the agitate cycle.

XXXX

Starsky slowly woke up. The overwhelming stench was the first thing that he noticed. The thick, heavy scent of blood, mud and moldering vegetation clogged his nostrils.

He knew that smell. And wanted desperately to forget it. It was in the muddy, bloody rice paddies of Vietnam.

Tensing, Starsky listened intently, which made his aching head throb. He ignored the pain as best he could as he strained to hear what was going on. There was no gunfire. No sounds of bombs going off. The stillness was that of after a battle –or just before.

A closer listen and he could hear the sound of injured or perhaps dying men groaning near him. He realized he was one of them. Starsky bit off his own moan of pain. He couldn't let the enemy locate him like this, when he was confused and injured. Nor did he want to be the one to draw them in with his groans.

Panic arose when Starsky realized that he didn't have his M-16 in his hands. His heart began to pound wildly in his chest. If the VC decided to put in an appearance, he was screwed. 'Where is it?' He cautiously felt around, moving slowly so as not to attract any attention. He couldn't feel the rifle anywhere near him. He was now totally helpless, helpless to defend himself and the others around him.

Starsky clenched his eyelids down tightly -partly because it was gonna hurt like hell to open them and partly because he didn't want to face the truth of what was going on. There were few sights worse then seeing the mangled bodies and wounded souls of his friends and fellow soldiers. He also could feel that he was covered in mud and somewhere where nearby, he could hear the sound of water as it trickled and dripped.

A familiar low moan erupted from somewhere very close to him. He cautiously cracked his eyes open and surreptitiously looked around. It took a little while for his fuzzy vision to clear. He felt incredibly vulnerable as he waited for the world to come into focus and when it did, he was startled to see that he was inside of a car.

A car?

How did he get inside a car in Nam?

His aching, fuzzy brain puzzled over that conundrum for several minutes before realizing that he was not in Vietnam. A relieved sigh escaped his lips and he let his aching head fall back down to his left shoulder and the car seat.

After a few moments, he forced himself to open his eyes again and he peered at his surroundings. There was a little bit of gray light showing through the broken glass. He squinted at the window, something about it wasn't right. He moved his right arm and felt a flash of intense pain that made him hiss and brought him back around when all he wanted to do was drift.

He could hear a steady plop of mud dripping all around him. He looked up; the ceiling was low, a mere inch from his head. He slowly blinked, puzzled by how close it was to his face. He slowly came to understand that the roof of the car had been smashed down. He found himself staring stupidly at the fabric covering. It was muddy and wet inside the car; the whole interior was covered with it.

Blurrily he shifted his gaze to the outside world. Starsky could barely make out an embankment to his left and rushing water to his right. He was in a car, in a stream. The nose of the car was buried in a curve in the bank and tangles of branches were helping to hold the vehicle in place.

Hutch! The name sprang to the forefront of his mind. He automatically looked to his right -where his partner normally would be- and found the battered car door warped and dented, like someone had taken a mallet to it. Starsky gaped stupidly at it, momentarily confused 'How'd I get over here? Where's Hutch?'

There was a groan to the left of him and he snapped his head about. Hutch was slumped over the steering wheel. Events flooded back into Starsky's muddled brain, the rain, the mudslide, the wild ride and the fact that his partner had been driving. "Hutch!"

The blond detective groaned again, a little louder this time.

Starsky tried to slide across the seat to get closer to his friend and found his lower half was totally encased in mud. The car had enough sludge in it to bury them both to their waists. Hutch's side of the car was at a downward angle, so there was more the stuff on his side of the car. Starsky reached over with his left hand and gently cupped his partner's muddy, battered chin. "Hey buddy, how're ya doin'? Huh?"

Dazed light blue eyes slowly opened and rolled a few times before settling on the brunet "Ow… my head… Wha' hap'nd?" Hutch slowly lifted it off the bent steering wheel. "Where… are we?" His head bobbed woozily.

"A mudslide happened. We seem to be in some streambed, near as I can tell." Starsky peered into his friend's eyes, looking closely at the uneven pupils. "How're ya feelin'… huh?"

The taller man shuddered, "Gonna be sick" He coughed and hot vomit spewed over the steering wheel and Starsky's hand. "Ughgod… 'm sorry 'bout that… Starsk." His colorless face reddened with shame briefly before turning an unhealthy pale once more. He turned his face away.

Starsky quickly wiped his vomit-covered hand on his muddy shirt. He reached back over and caught Hutch's chin once more and gently turned it back around. Dark blue eyes connected with shame-filled light blue ones. "Nothin' ta be sorry 'bout. Lemme have a look at ya." He noticed blood covering the left side of his friend's face and hair and reached over to carefully explore that area.

"Don't… m'fine." Hutch's head sank back down to rest on the steering wheel.

"Like hell you are." Starsky muttered gruffly. Ignoring the weak protest, he carefully ran his fingers through the muddy blond strands. He felt some stickiness and located a shallow, jagged cut above Hutch's left ear. He glanced at his fingers; there was blood on them. From the feel of it, most of the bleeding had stopped already. His friend's window was intact but spider webbed, indicating a forceful impact had taken place. He inhaled in sympathy. "Hurt much?"

Hutch's head shifted slightly back and forth on the wheel, signaling no.

Starsky felt his anxiety rise. His partner was way too quiet. The brunet's eyes shifted to take in the rest of what he could see of Hutch and his fingers tentatively touched and probed what body parts he could reach. He got a low moan of pain from his friend when he felt Hutch's ribcage.

"Sorry partner." Starsky whispered as he snaked his hand inside the shirt for a better feel and came across some worrisome lumps –bruising or worse -possible fractures that were likely caused by Hutch slamming into the steering wheel and doorframe during their mad mix-master ride in the slide. His hand wandered to the back of Hutch's neck and he kneaded there gently as his own sluggish brain mulled over his next move. He had a passing thought that maybe they should start wearing their seatbelts one of these days, since there had to be a reason auto makers put those things in vehicles.

With a rueful shake of his head, the brunet pulled his wandering thoughts back in one place and decided it was time to get help. He looked at the dashboard -it and the radio- were encased in mud. It was likely that the car's battery and electrical system were shot.

Being completely immersed in mud and water tended to do that to electrical systems.

Still, it was worth a try. He reluctantly removed his hand from Hutch and clawed at the mud, found the curly cord that was attached to the mic to the rest of the radio. He dug away at the slop and found the dials on the radio. He tried flicking the switch on and off a few times, but it remained silent. There wasn't even a static hum. Not a promising sign.

He frowned deeply as disturbing thoughts entered his mind. Pushing them aside, Starsky keyed the mic and mud oozed out of where the plastic key entered the side of it. The metal contacts inside the mic would never be able to connect with all that muck inside the mic. There was no way the radio work with all that goo in there, even if it did have power – which it didn't.

"Worthless piece of crap." He gritted as he dropped the now useless bit of technology, not even bothering to put it back on its cradle.

"What...?" Hutch muttered, slightly lifting his drooping head at the banging sound. It slowly drifted back down to the steering wheel.

"S'nothin'-"

At that moment there was a simultaneous flash and near deafening boom of thunder, Starsky flinched as he felt the thunder roll completely through his body, vibrating the mud that surrounded them. The skies opened up seconds later and rain began to fall. Water slapped him hard through the broken car window. There was nothing Starsky could do to keep it out. He anxiously watched the water level begin to rise inside the car.

Hutch moaned and shivered at the sound of thunder booming. The muddy blond head lifted off of the wheel and the light blue eyes skittered worriedly around the interior of the car before settling on his mud-encrusted partner. The lines of worry quickly smoothed as they made eye contact.

"W-what… h-happened? W-where are… we?" The blond shivered again and his shoulders hunched in a vain effort to retain some body heat that the mud and water were rapidly sucking out of him.

The repeated question caused Starsky's dark brows to furrow in increasing concern. "Mudslide, partner. God only knows where we are and the radio's out." Starsky noticed that this fresh set of rain was coming down heavier than before and mud started to ooze over the doorframe and into the car like some cheesy, low-budget monster from a late night creature feature. He looked over to his friend. "We're kinda on our own here."

That evoked a weak snort from the taller man. "And how's that d-different from… any other t-time?" Hutch gasped and chuckled woozily. It was quickly cut off as he wrapped his arms around his chest and bit back a little hiss of pain.

"Hey… easy, what's wrong?" Starsky's spirits had lifted some when he saw and heard how improved Hutch had sounded. Now lines of concern formed on his face as he leaned closer to his friend. Resting his hand on the nearest shoulder, he peered into pain filled light blues.

"Ribs hurt." The blond hissed through clenched teeth. "I think… they're broken."

Starsky took his good hand –strained against the sucking mud at his waist- reached over and gently palpated the painful area. "Seems like the left side got the worst of it." This confirmed what he'd felt earlier, but he'd been hoping for minimal damage. That hope was now fading. It seemed more likely that Hutch's ribs were cracked or broken. "Ribs, as in plural?"

Hutch panted with pain, "Yeah, I think… ow… think so. Don't know… for sure. Hurts." He squeezed his eyes shut. "Hurts… when I… breathe."

"Then don't breathe." Starsky snickered, attempting some levity.

Hutch opened his right eye and gave him a brief one-eyed glare, "Ha, ha. You oughta… give up detective work and… become a comedian." He gritted out before allowing the eye to close again.

Starsky offered his friend a lopsided grin and a comforting shoulder pat. "I'll think about it, but seriously, we gotta get outta here." He cast a concerned look at the mud and water that was oozing over the top of the doorframe on his side of the car. The window was shattered so there was no way to keep the heavy downpour and mud from coming in. Gravity was pulling the flow to Hutch's side of the car.

Apprehension at their situation rose with the mudflow and Starsky began scooping the glop out the broken window by the handfuls, unmindful of the pain in his right shoulder.

Above them, the skies crackled and rumbled with nearly continuous thunder and lightning, the car shivered with the deep brass vibrations. The storm deluge poured from the skies as though someone had turned on a mighty spigot.

As he worked, Starsky glanced worriedly up at the furious storm overhead. It was nearly completely dark out now and not just from the storm, night was closing in fast. The storm had to be directly overhead, since the lightning flashed and the thunder boomed at the same time. If the lightning hit anywhere near them, they would be instantly fried. 'Now there's a pleasant thought.' He thought sarcastically as he shoveled furiously.

The mud and water oozed over the frame faster, the car was filling rapidly.

Starsky redoubled his efforts to bail the muddy water out of the car. He was losing ground. He snorted at the thought as he worked 'The problem is I'm not losing ground fast enough' and pitched a handful of muck out the window. The car was filling up. He kept at it, shoveling water and mud with his cupped hands. Kept it up though the pain in his right shoulder made him want to scream in agony.

"Starsk-" The word was a barely a whisper off the injured blond's lips.

Ever attuned to his partner, the brunet grunted in response to his name as he continued to move the thick slurry of mud and water. He tossed it from the window, just to have twice that amount flow in the time it took him to get another handful. Starsky increased his efforts.

"Starsk… gotta get out."

"Yeah, I know, 'm workin' on it." The curly haired detective stuck to his task. "S'like tryin' ta shovel the ocean off the beach at high tide." He grunted with the effort it was taking.

"G-get out." Hutch hissed between teeth that had just started to clack together as the beginnings of hypothermia set in and his body started to cool down from being partially submerged in mud and water.

"I'm working on it, partner. Anyone ever tell you, ya gotta one track mind?" His shoulder felt like there was a cheese grater under the muscle, tearing at it with each movement. It was getting more and more difficult to ignore the pain.

"No… get… out."

Starsky frowned over his shoulder at his friend. "Workin' on it Hutch. I'm workin' on it." He redoubled his efforts to bail out the goo and muddy water.

"You… get out… L-leave… m-me." The words had a fierce, angry tone to them.

The curly haired detective stopped his frantic efforts and turned to his best friend. "Nothin' doin'! Ain't no way I'm leavin' you in here."

"Din't say… don't come… back, m-mush brain." Hutch snorted. "Leave… b'fore… you can't… move."

He didn't add 'like me', but Starsky heard it anyway.

The brunet glanced at the encroaching darkness, driving rain and flowing mud. Then he looked down at the mud and water that was now up to his bellybutton. Hutch was right. If he didn't go now… he might not be able to later. But the thought of leaving Hutch alone and injured… being slowly buried alive, his throat clogging with the slurry mix –was unthinkable.

However there wasn't much of a choice. The car was quickly filling and there was no help in sight. Still, he hesitated.

The taller man reached over and began weakly clawing at the watery mud at Starsky's waist. His left arm firmly tucked around his damaged ribcage. "Out… get… out. H-hurry!"

"Not with out you, dammit!" Starsky snapped. A rumble of thunder seemed to emphasize his words. He stopped shoveling at the liquid coming in through the window and leaned over to dig at the mud encasing his best friend. It flowed back more quickly than he could move it. He snarled in frustration at the mud and water.

The blond kept up his one-handed digging, pulling the muck away from Starsky.

Seeing that Hutch was determined to free him first, Starsky started to pull himself up, bracing against the dashboard and doorframe, working steadily to free his own legs. It was tough going but adrenalin gave him strength. The suction of the mud was great and his shoes stayed buried deep in the gooey mess.

Freed, Starsky put his feet on the seat and clawed at the slop around his partner's waist. It was difficult going. The ceiling was smashed down and he was crouched on the seat. He dug like a dog, flinging handfuls of mud behind him. The futility of his meager efforts finally set in and he gave up, put his arms around Hutch and pulled up and over. The mud maintained its gooey grip on the blond.

Hutch groaned, deep and low in his chest at the tugging, but none the less braced himself on the wheel and door -pushing up- trying to help extract himself anyway he could.

Starsky gritted his teeth and focused on removing his friend from the deepening mud and water but with the low ceiling and limited space- any kind of true leverage was near non-existent.

A low moan broke from the stoic man's lips and soon his hands where fighting off Starsky's tugging embrace. "S-stop!" Hutch clawed weakly at the arms that encircled him. "H-hurts" He dropped his head to Starsky's chest and panted in obvious pain.

Puffing from his exertions, Starsky stopped. He peered into the pain-pinched face of his friend, reading, judging how much his partner could withstand. His knuckles grazed the pale, muddy, bloody cheek before he wiped at his own sweaty brow. "Just tell me when you're ready, we'll try again." He repositioned his arms, ignoring his own agony.

Weakly, Hutch's head shook. "No… Starsk, don't. … Leave… Just l-leave…" Light blue eyes slid to the broken passenger's side window frame and the water and muck flowing over it and into the car. "You… have to… go now." He pushed away the embracing arms around him.

"NO!" Starsky yelled. "Not leaving you here. No way!" His arms returning to their former position around the other man's chest.

"There's no… sense in… both of … us goin' t-this way." Hutch shoved his friend's arms away from him.

Starsky sat back on his heels and glared. "No way in HELL 'm I leavin' ya ta drown or be buried in this mud! No fuckin' way!"

"Go!" Hutch pushed off from Starsky and wrapped his arms around his aching chest, speaking through pain-clenched teeth. "No sense… in both of… us goin' …th-that way."

"I ain't leavin' ya… I can't. You're my pal, Hutch. My best friend." The brunet grabbed his partner's hand, clinging to it.

Blond lashes fluttered down over baby blues. "And I don't… want my… best friend… to die tryin' to… save me… we both… know it's hopeless."

"We DON'T!"

"DO!" Hutch gritted his teeth against the pain the effort to yell had caused him.

"Don't!

"Do!"

"It's MY choice!" Starsky angrily slapped the dashboard.

"What… about my choice? I choose… not… to take… my best friend… down with me… You… can call… it my deathbed… request." Hutch sat up as straight as he could.

"No!" Starsky gasped, momentarily stunned. "'Cause you ain't dyin'!"

"Yes." The other returned, gently chiding.

"Over my dead body!"

"Starsk… it may… just come… to that… If you stay." Soft and reasoning.

"NO!" Hard denial.

The pair locked eyes and all speech stopped as a silent battle of wills raged between two equally determined alpha males.

Starsky's eyes dropped first. Hutch was right – but only on one account. The curly haired detective knew he'd have to go. Though only so far away as it took him to find help. But in leaving, he might return too late. He smashed a frustrated fist deep into the mud and water-covered seat. The dirty fluid splashed everywhere.

Having won, Hutch wearily dropped his head onto the bent steering wheel.

The brunet reached over and caressed the back of Hutch's neck.

The trapped man lifted his head and Starsky moved in closer and touched his forehead to Hutch's. And as happened so often in the past -each gained comfort and strength from the connection. Unconsciously, their breaths synchronized and pain faded -as did everything else in the world, including the torrential storm raging all around them. It came down to just the two of them. Their soul-deep friendship was shored up with the scaffolding of physical contact.

Starsky's thumb gently rubbed the muddy jaw line, his dark blues trained on his best friend's features, taking in all nuances, every line and crease. He slowly pulled his hand away and gave a sharp nod. Turning, he moved over the passenger side to exit the broken window.

"Starsk?" It sounded a little forlorn.

In a heartbeat the brunet was back. "Yeah?"

"I…" The light blues darted a look out the spider-webbed windshield to the raging weather before returning. "I want… to say… good-"

Lightning fast Starsky clamped a hand over Hutch's lips. "This ain't good-bye, so don't say it. I will be back. I will get you out and you will wait for me." He slowly removed his hand from Hutch's mouth.

Hutch's head slowly dipped in agreement. "I'll be… right here."

"You'd better be." Starsky warned before he scuttled out the window and disappeared into the dark.

XXXX

Hutch watched as Starsky scrambled out the window and heard him splash off. He carefully let out the breath he'd been holding, relieved that his best friend would now survive.

He looked at the broken window and at the muddy water pouring in. This was not the death he'd envisioned for himself. The one he thought would happen was when he was at the ripe old age of 148 and in his bed, surrounded by his family, friends, kids, grandkids and great grandkids. Not all alone, trapped in a rapidly filling car.

The liquid was now up to mid chest level. Not willing to give up just yet – he had promised to wait- he worked at freeing himself.

But at least Starsky was out. He would survive.

Knowing it would be difficult for his friend to handle his passing, Hutch, who was never fully convinced that there was a God, turned his eyes briefly to the sky. "P-protect him."

He went back to trying to free himself. And that's when he heard Starsky holler for help.

XXXX

The churning water clawed and dragged at Starsky's body as he worked his way to the car's bonnet. Things in the muddy water hit him. None of it mattered. What did matter was getting help fast. The rain was falling hard. Night had arrived and there was only the occasional flash of lightning to guide him. He carefully pulled himself along, hanging on tightly to first the car, then the branches in front of the car, working his way to the bank. If there were people nearby, he couldn't see them. He started yelling for help, hoping to draw someone's attention.

XXXX

The yells for help faded in the distance and Hutch panicked. He'd sent his partner out into that. Had he forced his friend to leave, just to drown? He clawed, dug and tore at the mud around his legs. Starsky needed help. He would help.

Digging furiously, a part of him found a tiny bright spot in the rapidly filling auto -was there was now more water than mud coming into the car. While it was filling faster than ever, he was able to loosen the goo that was encasing him. He franticly churned the water as he clawed at his legs, using the water to help break the suction of the muck.

Hutch forgot about the pain in his ribs and head. Starsky was out there calling for help. As the water reached his neck, he began to sob, knowing that despite the progress he'd made if he didn't free himself quickly – once the water rose five or six more inches- he'd be quite dead and unable to help his buddy.

XXXX

With the help of near constant lightning flashes, Starsky could see that the mudslide had been large and devastating. Given California's coastal history, there had likely been more than one slide that happened. And wherever this one had deposited him and Hutch, there seemed to be no other humans to be found. Or if there were, they were beyond helping anyone else. Starsky shivered in the darkness.

He called himself hoarse as he slogged through the mess, doing his best to keep close to the water so he could easily return to Hutch. In the pouring rain and blackness of the night, it would be far too easy to loose his way if he wandered too far from the water. The heavy rain was washing much of the thick mud down into the stream -or small river- where the LTD was. He didn't need to see the water to know it was rising rapidly and he'd have to get back to Hutch soon, whether he had someone to help them or not.

Bang!

The sound of metal being stepped on made Starsky stop. Unsure of what it might be, he squatted and found he was standing on a small – and quiet flattened -storage shed. Heedless of torn metal, broken boards and nails, Starsky tore at the debris, searching for anything he might use. Luck was with him and he found some useful items, a crowbar, hacksaw, garden hose and a bit of rope. Grabbing up the precious armful, he dashed back in the direction of the car.

XXXX

Hutch tilted his head back and pursed his lips to get a breath. The muddy water edged his mouth. He struggled to keep calm. If he agitated the water, he'd get a lungful of liquid instead of air. Though in a minute –maybe less- he'd learn just how long he could hold his breath. Only his injured ribs wouldn't let him expand enough to let him get a decent lungful of air.

Moments later -sitting up as tall as he could and lifting up as much as his still trapped lower half would allow -he took his last breath. Sinking back down under the water, he knew he'd be keeping his promise to Starsky. He'd be here. Well, at least his body would be.

He held his breath, counting each heartbeat and each sorrow.

'I hope someone heard your calls for help buddy. You deserve better than this.' Hutch's mind drifted as the tinny metallic sound rose to a crescendo in his ears before fading and darkness shrouded his brain as unconsciousness began to drop her mantel over him.

XXXX

Starsky had run by the LTD three times before recognizing a particular branch in a flash of lightning.

"Hutch! Huuutch!" He slid down the bank, franticly looking for the car. It was totally submerged, the roof was the only part visible and the water just beginning to flow over it.

He dropped the tools on the bank and splashed into the stream in complete panic as he wondered how long the car had been that way. He felt his way to the passenger side window, took a deep breath and pulled himself inside. Quickly locating his partner, he found Hutch's head and located his lips. He put his mouth over his friend's and pushed air into the starved lungs. He scooted back out, got another lungful and returned to repeat the action. All the while his brain screamed 'Don't do this Hutch! It's not your time!'

The third time he gave his friend a breath, he though he felt a small shudder in the lanky frame. The fourth time, he was certain of it. Unable to speak, or to even see each other, their hands somehow caught and contact was made. They didn't need sight or words. Touch alone communicated volumes.

I'm here!

I know.

I'll get you out.

I trust you.

I know.

Starsky broke to the surface, scrambling to get the hose he'd found in the mangled shed. He quickly secured one end to a bush on the bank and threaded the other end through the car's window and gave it to Hutch, praying that he would be able to remain conscious enough to be able to hold it to his mouth and breathe through it.

He went to work on freeing Hutch's legs. Thankfully the pedals weren't trapping his friend's feet, so Starsky knew he wouldn't need the hacksaw he'd found. The muck and bent steering wheel were the only things holding Hutch down. After using the crowbar he'd found to bend the wheel out of the way, he was able to work his trapped friend free of the restraining mud.

The car shifted around them.

Starsky grabbed Hutch around the chest and pulled. No longer trapped, the blond readily came out of the seat. The brunet dragged him out the window and they broke to the surface. Starsky supported Hutch's head, holding it clear of the water.

Hutch coughed feebly.

Working hard, Starsky managed to push Hutch onto the roof of the submerged car. The water was now about four inches over the rooftop, but it was still a place for a quick break before the last push to the shore. Once he was seated, Starsky took the short bit of rope he'd found and tired Hutch to him.

Hutch weakly tugged at the rope. "What's… this… for?" The words were hoarse and slurred.

"'m not gonna lose you again! Wherever I go, you go!"

The LTD moved once more.

Fighting the pain in his arm and desperately hanging onto his partner, Starsky kicked hard, pushing for the bank. The car shifted beneath them, tilting them backwards, away from shore. The water swept them off into the rushing, writhing torrent.

XXXX

The happy chirps of birds filled the air and tree leaves rustled lightly in the warm wind.

Starsky moved his head, annoyed by the sounds of the not so great outdoors. God, he hated camping.

Camping?

No, that couldn't be right. He was in far too much pain for that. Everything hurt. Especially his right arm, which felt like an animal was chewing on it. Instantly the memory and terror from the events of the night before flooded him. Hutch!

Starsky popped his eyes open and looked around. He was high in a tree. A big tree with broad branches. A tree on a small island in the middle of a river. He was straddling a massive branch and Hutch was reclining on top of him, the blond's head was slumped to the left. He held his breath as he checked his best friend's carotid artery. There was a pulse, a little weak and theady, but there.

Relieved, he let his left hand fall to the gently rising and falling chest, grateful and content to feel the proof of Hutch's continued existence on this planet. Nothing else mattered. His pinky rubbed up against something and he peered over the blond hair to see what the thing was.

Rope.

It was the rope that had bound them together last night.

Starsky snorted. No. It wasn't the rope that bound them together.

It was something greater.

Stronger.

It was friendship.

A bit of mere twisted hemp had nothing on that. Hell, titanium had nothing on that. He smiled up through the leaves to the bright blue sky above. Thankful for the blessing of another day with his best friend. Nothing that happened from here on out would taint that for him.

Hutch groaned and shifted slightly. Starsky forced his injured right arm to join his left one around his partner, to steady and comfort him. "S'okay Hutch. No sudden moves, 'kay?"

The messy blond hair glinted in the leaf-dappled sunlight as Hutch slowly nodded his head. "W-where?"

"Tree" Starsky smiled as they fell into a familiar pattern of shorthand speech.

"Tree?" The light brows furrowed in confusion.

"Yep"

"High?"

"Very"

"How?"

"Flood"

"Oh" Hutch nodded, remembering. His eyes still closed as their current predicament soaked into his fuzzy head. He shifted restlessly, with pain and obviously uncomfortable on the big tree branch. "Naked?"

Starsky chuckled "Nearly." It was common for clothing to be pulled off by the raging water. Their only remaining items of clothing were their underwear and the bit of rope.

"You?"

"US!"

"Crap!"

"Yep"

"Rescue?"

The sound of a helicopter's blades chopped the air. Both heads turned to follow the sound. It was approaching their position.

"Soon." Starsky squinted hard at the copter and began to shake with laughter.

"What?" Hutch tilted his head to see what was making Starsky laugh.

"News copter."

"Hell!" The strain it took to say that word made Hutch groan and weakly clutch his ribs in pain.

Starsky lightly hugged his partner as he continued to laugh. The whole thing was absurd, but he refused to be upset by any of it. Hutch was seriously injured and from the warmth rolling off of him – and off of himself for that matter- feverish. But they were alive. And that was all the reason he needed to be happy.

"How're we… gonna… live… this down?" Hutch flushed with embarrassment and buried his face in Starsky's chest.

The curly haired detective unconsciously threaded his fingers through the messy blond strands, easing out a knot. "Just like we do everything else – together." He gently patted his friend's head.

Hutch lifted his head and made eye contact. "Me-"

"And Thee."