Title: Blind Faith

Author: Black_Wingedbird

Rating: PG-13

Author’s Notes- This story is dedicated to Kate, who won it during Wolfpup's 'Katrina Auction'. Thank you for your patience and confidence. And a huge thanks to Annie, who must have worn out a package of red pens while beta-ing.

This story is modeled after Dawn Sunrise's Stargate SG1 story, 'Leap of Faith'. Find it here.

You girls are the best.

"Starsky, you really don't have to do this."

Starsky glanced at Hutch, his eyebrows raised at the sudden break in the silence. Underneath them, the Torino's tires hummed over the road. "Do what, help a friend? Of course I want to do this."

Hutch held his breath and looked down at the paperwork in his hands once more. Starsky had that soft smile, the one he always wore when he thought he was pleasing Hutch. Unable to break that belief, Hutch changed subjects. "Where'd you come up with the name…" he brought the receipt closer to his face in order to read the tiny print through the pounding in his temples, "Monty McDaniel?"

Starsky grinned. "I like the sound of it. Monty McDaniel, Monty McDaniel…"

Hutch shook his head as Starsky continued to try out his phony name in different accents. The Torino slowed and maneuvered around a tight turn, pressing Hutch against the passenger door. He rested one hand on his leg, still holding the receipt to the rental cabin, while the other hand massaged his right temple. "You can still turn around, you know. Take me home and I can relax in the comfort of my own apartment, take care of my dying squamiferum, and catch up on some reading. Come on, Starsk. You don't really want to spend one whole week in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, do you?" Hutch knew exactly where his partner's weak spots were and how hard to poke at them.

"Oh we're going," Starsky replied quickly. "I went to a lot of trouble to find a cabin far away from any revenge-bent criminals, and I did it for you, partner." Starsky glanced at Hutch, and his smile faded a little. "After the past few weeks we've had, we deserve a little rest and relaxation." He looked to the road and his smile brightened again. "Plus, I really like my new pseudo-name. Monty McDaniel…"

Hutch turned to the window and didn't return the smile. Memories flared to life in his head- endless, blinding sunlight searing his skin for hours on end, all-consuming agony from the hundreds of pounds of metal crushing his legs, dust and dirt, itching dehydration, a senile World War Two veteran…

He had never been so happy to be rescued in his entire life. As soon as he was pulled from the wreckage of his car, Hutch surrendered to the care of his partner, and later- the nurses and doctors who tended to him.

But getting help had created problems of its own.

Upon immediate admittance to the hospital - due to complete negligence of the staff - Hutch had been given a healthy dose of morphine to ease what the nurses saw as obvious distress. Starsky had burst in the room two seconds too late - Hutch barely remembered floating in an euphoric state while his partner enthusiastically and explicitly 'chewed the staff a new one'.

That night, when darkness had enveloped the hospital room, visions of Ben Forest and Allen Philos and rope and strange beds and fire and needles all flashed by in quick succession, blinding him to the outside world. He shivered, his body betraying him in a Pavlovian response to the thought of the heroin. Even today, his body still yearned for it - though not nearly as bad, and Hutch hated the feeling with a vengeance.

Hutch blinked away the visions and bit back a yawn. Sleep was still escaping him, leaving Hutch tired and irritable. He was not looking forward to spending a week in a secluded cabin with Starsky as his only means of entertainment. He loved his partner, he really did, but at the moment, Hutch had the headache from hell and all he wanted was a dark hole to crawl into. Maybe he should try another angle. "I won't tell Dobey, if that's what you're worried about."

Again, Starsky looked surprised. "What are you talking about?" he asked, mock-hurt in his voice. "Why don't you believe that I wanted to take a vacation myself? I need a break too, ya know."

"Because your idea of a vacation is all-night beach parties and voluptuous women," Hutch said, watching the trees blur past. "You and log cabins in the woods just don't go together." In fact, they were like polar opposites.

"All the more reason for you to shut up and enjoy the sacrifice I'm making for you."

Starsky did need the break, Hutch realized. Terry's death was still weighing heavily in both their hearts. The past few months had been extremely difficult. Starsky had been devastated after losing the woman who quite-possibly was *the one*, and Hutch was still not one hundred percent after being pinned under his car for three days.

Perhaps the planets were out of alignment, or maybe bad luck and hospital bills were trying to fill some sort of quota for this period.

The Torino lurched gently as the gears shifted on the mountain's incline. Hutch folded his arms, tearing himself from his quiet reflections. "I don't want this to be a pity party," he stated. "Did you at least bring the beer?"

"Nobody pities you, Hutch," Starsky replied. "And of course I brought beer." After a charged beat, he said, "I think it's kinda funny the way the Cap'n is fathering you. And I've never seen Huggy give so much food away to one person before in my life."

Hutch hid a look of guilt. Huggy had indeed sent so much food to his apartment that Hutch was starting to throw it away. He appreciated the gestures, but enough was enough. He was not made of glass- he was a grown man and a *cop* for cryin' out loud- he didn't need his three closest friends coddling him. Starsky was bad enough. He didn't need any more time off, any more food, or any more nights listening to Starsky snoring from the couch.

He needed his normal life back.

Hutch sighed and leaned against the door during yet another close turn, once more changing the subject and diffusing his tension. "Are you sure this place is fully furnished? I don't have the money to buy a week's worth of groceries."

Starsky nodded. "Dobey showed me a picture before we left. It looks really awesome."

"Awesome means expensive. Save your money and turn around." Hutch folded the receipt in half, then in half again.

Starsky shook his head, proverbially digging his heels in. "I'm not turning around, Hutch. Let's just have a nice week away from it all, okay? Forget all that other stuff. This isn't about Humphries or what he did, this is about you getting better. I miss the old Hutch." A little softer, he added, "I want him back."

Hutch frowned. "The old Hutch is a little messed up right now," he muttered under his breath, throwing the folded receipt over his shoulder.

"Hey," Starsky snapped, glancing between the road, Hutch, and the backseat. "How many times do I gotta tell you, my car is not a trashcan!"

Hutch smirked. He knew what buttons to push, alright. "Of course it's not. It's a tomato."

Starsky's knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel harder. "This is a fine piece of American muscle. It'll be in a book someday, maybe even a museum. Now kindly stop desecrating my vehicle."

Hutch laughed and the continuous, residual pain in his temples receded a little. Perhaps Starsky would make for good entertainment after all. "Desecrating? Who taught you four-syllable words?"

Starsky's eyes turned ice blue.

Hutch took the hint, even though he couldn't stop grinning. "Fine," he said, twisting against the seat back. He brought his knees up on the leather and squeezed his torso between the top of the front seat and the roof. "The things I do for you…" he muttered, spotting the folded-up paper on the otherwise spotless rear floorboards.

"Nice ass. Hold on."

Hutch reached for the paper, suddenly too-aware of the view he was presenting Starsky with. The car shifted as it took another corner, and Hutch used the momentum to propel himself forward the last few inches. His fingers had just grasped the paper when he heard Starsky's quick gasp.

"Shit! Hutch- hang-"

Whatever else his partner had said was drowned out by the sudden blare of horns and screeching tires. The car swerved violently, smoothly sliding sideways as it fishtailed, and Hutch fell onto the backseat in a jumble of arms and legs. Starsky was cursing and hitting the steering wheel hand-over-hand in an effort to maintain control. The sound of grinding metal filled the air for a brief moment as the brakes were squeezed, then the car pitched forward and downward and Hutch was floating. The free-fall suddenly ended in a bone-jarring thud and he slammed into something hard and unforgiving. Bright lights exploded in his eyes and pain blossomed in his head, and the last thing Hutch heard was his own terrified scream.

~o0O0o~

The pounding in his head was so bad, even his subconscious was aware of it.

Starsky groaned, not fully awake yet and not wanting to be. He tried to burrow down in the covers once more, until he realized that there were, in fact, no covers to burrow into.

His eyebrows knitted together against the pain of trying to figure out where he was. Starsky licked his lips, his tongue dry and tacky in his mouth, then risked turning his head.

Something sliced through his brain with white-hot agony. Starsky whimpered, pinching his eyes shut tighter than they already were, and tried to catch his breath.

There was a secondary fire in his left cheek. It stung when he moved his head, and curiousness prompted Starsky to pry open his eyes and figure out where exactly he was. The view was familiar, though nowhere near comforting. Steering wheel. Dashboard. Speedometer. Starsky blinked, focusing straight ahead on the large crack zig-zagging across the Torino's windshield, and a little more consciousness crept into his mind.

He looked around, being very careful to keep his head still. The car was upright but at a horrible angle, the extreme gravity puling Starsky against the driver's side window and door. He looked to the left and winced. The driver's side window was shattered, completely spider-webbed from the impact of the large tree on the other side. Numbly, Starsky realized his head was still resting upon the broken glass.

With a held breath, Starsky lifted his head from the window and glass tinkled as it fell. So that explained the burning in his cheek. Starsky lifted his hand to his face, touching the torn skin gingerly. When he pulled back his fingers, they were wet with warm blood.

Starsky looked down at the uncomfortable pressure in his side. The tree outside his window had apparently stopped the car's slide down the mountain, but the force of the impact had bowed the car, pushing the driver's door inwards and against Starsky. A pain in his knee flared to life, and Starsky shifted his gaze to study the dashboard that had collapsed upon his legs.

If Merle could fix this mess, Starsky might consider him to be a god.

Starsky studied his knee. It was swollen and hot against the unforgiving denim of his jeans. Broken glass glittered as he tried to move, but the resulting pain that coursed through his leg left him weak and panting once more.

Frustrated and a little scared, Starsky let his head fall back against the seat. He swallowed thickly and looked in the other direction, towards the passenger door. He could see the tire tracks the Torino had left in the side of the mountain as the heavy car slid downwards, the grooves resembling the claw marks of a person dangling on the edge of a cliff. Above that, Starsky could see the ledge they had fallen from, and above that, endless blue sky.

His breathing and pain once more under control, Starsky let his gaze drop to his legs. There was no way to get out through the driver's door- that meant his only means of escape was to climb upwards, over the bench seat and through the passenger door.

Starsky jerked as if he had been electrified. *Passenger…*

"Hutch?" he called, his broken voice magnified by the eerie silence of the mountain. When nothing but a distant woodpecker answered him, Starsky's heart rate increased. "Hutch!"

Where was Hutch? Had he been thrown from the car? Starsky refused to believe that. Hutch had been tossed into the backseat when the Torino went over - he had to still be there.

First thing's first: Find Hutch. Starsky twisted in his seat, ignoring the pain that seared his knee and head. He couldn't see anything at this angle - he'd have to free himself first.

He planted his trembling hands on the glass-covered leather seat and braced himself. With his good leg, Starsky pushed, reinforcing his effort with locked elbows. The pain was crippling, but he was successful. Slowly, his leg slid free from the dashboard that pinned it.

Exhausted, Starsky let himself collapse against the seat once more. His chest heaved and his breathing sounded ragged in the silent car. Gently, he reached forward and touched the swollen knee. Starsky hissed in pain, even though he had been expecting it, but took comfort in the absence of blood.

He had to keep moving.

Starsky shifted and pushed again, literally fighting an uphill battle. He inched his way across the seat, his lungs burning and muscles straining as he dragged his useless leg, and finally came within arm's reach of the passenger door handle. Starsky braced himself so he wouldn't slide back down into the mess of broken glass and blood, then pulled on the door handle and pushed on the door panel.

It didn't budge.

Starsky dropped his hands and let out the breath he had been holding. The passing seconds were weighing heavily upon him now. He had to find Hutch.

Starsky gathered strength he didn't know he had and tried once more. He pushed against the door with his all his might, and it opened a few inches, only to fall shut against the strong pull of gravity the moment Starsky weakened.

Panic was taking over. Starsky's heart was beating wildly in his chest and he could feel the echoing pulse in his knee and temples. The big car's doors were heavy enough when it was sitting level, but pushing them open against the steep incline they were on - while injured - was damn near impossible.

Starsky refused to become prisoner of his own vehicle. With one last Herculean effort, Starsky put all of his energy into pushing upwards against the door and he finally succeeded, falling to the ground on his back and just barely catching the door before it swung back and clamped down on his legs.

Starsky lay on his back on the forest floor, panting loudly as he stared upwards, through dark tree branches and into the cloudless blue sky. His head was pounding and spinning even as he lay there. His injured knee was now bent painfully over the seat, and the discomfort was enough to prompt Starsky into moving again.

Planting his hands in the leaves and dirt beneath him, he rose up and dragged himself the rest of the way out of the Torino.

The door felt shut with an ominous bang.

Starsky's body wanted nothing more than to just collapse and let the impending darkness take him, but his heart spurred him on. He had to get Hutch.

Starsky rose up on his good knee, leaving the other stretched out awkwardly beside him. He reached for the door handle and pulled open the door, then quickly placed himself in between the door and the seat. He stifled a whimper as the heavy metal door swung back, landing hard against his back. Swallowing what little spit he had, Starsky grabbed the small lever on the floorboard and flipped up the seat.

His eyes immediately fell to the tousled mop of brilliant blond hair on the floorboard. Blessedly, his partner's ribs expanded and compressed steadily, assuring Starsky that he was not too late. Hutch was on his side, knees drawn up as far as possible in the tight space, and one arm was bent disconcertingly underneath him. Blood seeped from a purpling gash above his right eyebrow. The blood was pooling beneath his head, matting Hutch's hair to his left temple.

Starsky's heart sank. He glanced back towards the dashboard, not surprised to find the CB hanging uselessly by its wires. When had help ever come that easily?

"Hutch, come on," Starsky said, reaching out and grabbing one bony shoulder. The recent time spent trapped under his car had taken its toll on the detective, shedding pounds Hutch couldn't afford to lose. Starsky's other hand found Hutch's neck and beneath the cool skin, a light, quick heartbeat. Starsky gave his partner a gentle shake, only belatedly realizing he could be doing more harm than good. "Hutch! Come on, get up!"

Hutch remained limp and unresponsive. Starsky groaned in helplessness and frustration. He would have to pull Hutch out himself, and pray to God that there were no spinal injuries.

Starsky took a deep breath and reached in the car, grabbing Hutch under each arm and shifting his own weight to gain a secure hold. "Okay buddy, here goes," he mumbled, then held his breath and pulled.

The detectives slid towards each other, Starsky hitting the car's frame and using it as leverage to inch Hutch closer to the door. Hutch moaned as he shifted, and Starsky stopped to catch his breath and his strength. He could barely move his 170-pound partner on a good day - let alone when said partner was out cold and Starsky had but one leg to stand on.

Starsky let go of Hutch's underarms and patted his partner's bloody face. "Come on, Blondie, wake up. You're scaring me here."

Hutch's brows furrowed deeply as he turned away from the touch. He instantly whimpered and tried to curl in on himself, away from Starsky.

"I don't think so, buddy," Starsky said, grabbing Hutch's jaw and gently turning the face towards him again. "Come on, up and at 'em."

Hutch's face scrunched more, then his eyelids lifted, blinking rapidly, and at last Starsky was looking into blue eyes as familiar as his own.

"Starsk?" Hutch breathed, confusion written plainly on his face. "Ow - head hurts… what happened?"

Starsky caught Hutch's arm as it was raised towards his head. "Don't you remember?"

Hutch's eyes fell shut and Starsky jostled his partner. Wincing but making no effort to get up, Hutch replied, "No," then shook his head and immediately squeezed his eyes shut. "God… hurts."

"I know, babe," Starsky murmured, feeling a swell of sympathy in his chest. But they couldn't stay here. "We were run off the road by a car full of teenagers," Starsky explained as he gathered his partner once more. "We gotta get you outta the car. Think you can help me?"

Hutch shook his head then grew very pale. "Gonna be sick-"

Starsky barely pulled his arm back before Hutch rolled forward, vomiting on the Torino's perfect black floor mats. When he was done, he collapsed backwards, eyes closed once more.

"No! Hutch, come on, stay with me," Starsky commanded, grabbing Hutch and pulling him away from the mess ever so slightly.

Hutch's eyes flickered open and he looked to Starsky with a red, glassy gaze. "Head hurts," he panted. "What happened?"

Starsky's heart tightened in despair. "I just told you buddy, we were run off the road. Help me get you outta here."

Hutch stiffened. "They're coming for me again?"

Starsky closed his eyes ever so briefly. "Yeah, come on." Desperate times, Starsky supposed. At least Hutch was finally trying to move, and between their combined weak efforts, Starsky was soon guiding his partner to the forest floor. Hutch's shoes thudded to the ground in the leaves and the passenger door fell shut without Starsky's body to hold it open. Hutch promptly vomited again, then lost consciousness. His own knee screaming in pain, Starsky rose to his feet and hobbled backwards, dragging Hutch to a deciduous tree ten agonizingly long feet away.

Exhausted but convinced of their temporary safety, Starsky dropped to the ground and leaned back against the tree, pulling Hutch's head and shoulders into his lap. He looked up, through the concussion-induced travesty of tree limbs and oak leaves, and sent a silent prayer into the perfect blue sky.

~o0O0o~

It was the cold-fingered slap to his cheek that finally broke through Hutch's unconsciousness.

The warm black clouds that enveloped him began to tear apart at the seams and unwelcome sensations started invading his awareness. He was laying on his back on something hard, cold, and unforgiving. His toes and fingers were nearly numb with the cold.

And oh yes- there was the pain.

He recognized that feeling and turned his head, attempting to slip back into oblivion and wake up again at a better time. But the cold fingers on his face grew insistent, and the slaps harder, firmer.

Hutch's annoyance swelled and swelled, quickly reaching its breaking point. He raised a hand, catching the one swatting his face, and tried to push it away.

"Hutch, come on. Open your eyes."

No. He didn't want to. They felt glued shut as it was, and Hutch was more than happy to leave them like that. Darkness was good - it brought serenity. Being awake was bad - it brought pain.

"Hutch, I'm serious."

No.

"Fine then."

Familiar calloused fingers pressed to his eyelids, and before Hutch could defend himself, Starsky pried open his left eye.

A bolt of pain worse than anything Hutch had ever known shot through his head. His eye instantly watered and burned at the bright light overhead, and it felt as if Starsky had rammed a stick straight through it. His brain seemed to explode, bits of it smashing against the inside of his skull like food exploding inside a blender. Hutch couldn't even begin to stop the cry that escaped him as he tensed and rolled on his side in a ball.

A position which found him in no better circumstances.

The taut muscles sent flames through his chest and sides. It hurt- in fact, he was in more agony than seconds before - and Hutch couldn't replace the air as fast as it escaped his lungs. Something gritty scratched at his cheek and the smell of mud and pine filled his nose. Where was he? Was he back on that hillside, trapped under his car? Did Forest have him again? How did he get here? He didn't want to be left to the elements or shot full of drugs again. He had to get away. He had to escape, he couldn't live through that again -

"…Sorry. C'mere. I just wanna see your pupils," the voice above him insisted.

Hutch felt a hand on his shoulder, tugging at him and guiding him to his back once more. Hutch turned his head away, very much aware of the hot tears trailing from the corners of his eyes, and tried to avoid his sadistic captor. Everything hurt - they must be depriving him of the drug in hopes of gaining information…

"I'll block the light this time, okay?"

No, it wasn't okay, but before Hutch could fight it, his eyelids were pried open once more.

The darkness was obliterated and for a moment, Hutch was terrified and breathless. But then his brain processed a brilliant blue sky above him. Tree tops were blurred together in a dark, ominous lump at the bottom of his vision. And right in the center of it all, was a Starsky-sized blob.

"It's okay, I'm here."

Hutch blinked rapidly, trying to rid his eyes of the burning and tears. Starsky was blocking the sun's direct glare, and after a few agonizing seconds, his surroundings slid into focus.

"Starsk?"

"In the flesh."

The hands left his face, and Hutch's eyes rested at half-mast. His head felt as if it were in a vise. "What happened?"

Starsky's hands were moving, but Hutch couldn't focus on what he was doing. "We were ran off the road, remember? A car full of kids came around the bend head-on. I swerved to miss them and here we are."

What road? Were they going somewhere? Hadn't he been alone in the car? Something cold and wet was pressed to his forehead and Hutch whimpered at the pain it ignited, closing his eyes once more.

"I know it hurts. There's a lot of blood here. Try to hold still."

The thing kept rubbing over his tender forehead. It was rough and persistent, like the tongue of the old female Golden Retriever Hutch had played with as a kid.

Except Suzy's tongue had been warm, and it smelled different.

At last, the ministrations stopped and Hutch let his exhausted muscles relax. He opened his eyes once more and Starsky was again doing something beneath Hutch's line of vision. It hit him, then - with the speed of a three-legged turtle - that if he was hurting this badly, Starsky might be hurt as well. "You okay?" he croaked out, suddenly realizing how dry and sticky his mouth was.

"I twisted my knee, that's all. The gash on your head is going to need stitches but we have some butterflies in the first aid kit. Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Hutch concentrated on the words as they raced through his brain. Was he hurt anywhere else? He nodded and winced as his skull bounced over a rock beneath his head. "My ribs… broken?"

A palm was on the back of his neck and his head was lifted up. When it was lowered, there was something soft where the rock had been. His sense of movement was all screwed up - Starsky seemed to be moving faster than what Hutch could see. And words… they zoomed by at an incredible rate, leaving Hutch to only guess at what Starsky was saying.

Cool air pin-pricked the skin on his stomach and chest, and Hutch looked down to see Starsky had pulled up his shirt. Starsky's rough fingers slid over his ribs in a gesture that would have been sensual for a member of the opposite sex. But at the moment, it was torture.

Starsky's left hand hit a bad spot and something inside of Hutch shifted. He cried out as a stabbing pain exploded through him, and he brought his knees up in an effort to escape it.

Starsky jumped at the unexpected reaction. His brows were furrowed and his skin glistened at the hairline. "Sorry," he murmured, running his hand over his face before elbowing Hutch's legs back to the ground. "I'll go slower."

*Don't go slower, just stop completely.* Hutch panted through the fire, which in turn created its own kind of hell as his ribs expanded and collapsed.

Once again, Starsky was running his fingers over the hard ridges of Hutch's ribcage, checking for further injuries. There were several areas that hurt under the pressure, but by now, Hutch's entire body was an exposed nerve. The intense pain was wearing him out.

"I'm gonna have to wrap these," Starsky said, and Hutch's belly was covered once more. "I'll shred some shirts and use those."

It was getting harder and harder to pay attention. "Wrap what?" Hutch echoed, fighting the pain in his skull. His eyes fell shut and he found - with pleasure - that the darkness lessened it.

The next thing he knew, Starsky was inches from his face. "Hey, come on, I need you awake. I'm going to sit you up. I want you to lean on me, okay? Let me do all the work."

Hutch's brows furrowed. Awake. He had to stay awake. Starsky needed him awake. What was going on?

There was a hand on the back of his neck and one pushing underneath his shoulders. He shifted reflexively, arching his back and instantly wishing he hadn't.

"Starsk… I don't think…"

But he was already being pulled up; the sky rushed down to greet him as he was laid over Starsky's left shoulder. Knives seemed to be ripping through his chest and the piercing pain radiated all the way to his spine. He couldn't breathe through the pressure. He was panicking and scared. The world grew dark very quickly, and the only warmth Hutch felt was from the contact of his head in the crook of Starsky's neck.

~o0O0o~

Night was approaching quickly and there wasn't a damn thing Starsky could do about it.

He leaned his head back against the rough tree trunk behind him and sighed quietly. His knee was throbbing now, and every muscle in his body ached with fatigue. His head ached from the exertion he'd applied in removing Hutch from the wreckage.

But his heart... it ached with sympathy.

Without moving his head, Starsky shifted his gaze to the unconscious figure beside him. It had scared the hell out of him when Hutch passed out - images of punctured lungs and drowning in one's own blood filled his head with nightmarish intensity. But then rationality kicked in, and Starsky realized he could still feel Hutch's heartbeat and respirations, even if they were a little fast and labored. He could deal with fast and labored - it was the silent, still heart - the one that no longer beat - that Starsky was worried about.

So Starsky had continued, taking comfort in the feel of his partner lying against him. He worked quickly and actually gave thanks for the fact that his partner was not awake for the painful, but necessary, procedure. The shirts he'd used had been his - Starsky had snatched them from the duffle bag he had packed for this trip. Now they were in tattered strips and bound tightly around Hutch's chest.

After that, Starsky had ventured back to the Torino and salvaged what he could of their supplies. Excluding the fishing poles and board games and other recreational items that were of no use, Starsky found a small supply of snacks - trail mix and granola bars supplied by Hutch, most likely - and the bottles of water they had just bought at the last gas station they stopped at. There was the small first aid kit, which included a way-too-small bottle of aspirin, some hydrogen peroxide, triple antibiotic ointment, gauze, and bandages.

Starsky wasn't satisfied.

Their clothing was of no real help; neither of them had thought to bring anything heavier than a jacket. There weren't nearly enough pain relievers, and the safety flares had been left at home in favor of fitting in an extra tackle box.

But it would have to do or suffice. They had a few day's worth of food, at least.

Starsky had even tried starting the Torino - an effort he would never attempt again. After dragging himself and his useless leg into the driver's seat, the car gave way with the shot-gun sound of wood snapping and the car started sliding downhill, backwards. With his heart in his throat, Starsky pushed open the door and flung himself to the ground seconds before the rear tires caught on a large rock and the Torino jerked to a halt on the side of the quiet mountain. As he lay there, panting, and gripping his swollen knee so tightly his knuckles turned white, Starsky cursed. The car hadn't even tried to start - turning the key only produced the small, tell-tale click of an unusable battery.

He blinked, bringing his thoughts back to the present. Starsky looked down at his partner as he continued to massage Hutch's warm scalp. The act was intimate and embarrassing and self-comforting, like thumb-sucking or sneaking into bed with your parents, and Starsky was grateful that Hutch was still unconscious.

What should he have done differently? Starsky had barely had any time to react as he came out of the turn and found himself face to face with a car full of laughing, careless teenagers. Instinctively, he slammed on the brakes and swerved to avoid them. Would he feel any better if it were the kids stuck down here on the side of this God-forsaken mountain? Of course not. Should he have let the cars hit each other, and risk killing all of them? No.

So maybe there *wasn't* anything he could have done, but that didn't stop him from feeling guilty and helpless. The kids wouldn't bring help. That would mean confessing to reckless driving or driving under the influence or who knows what else. And kids don't like to confess, Starsky remembered that much.

Starsky hated feeling helpless. It was a foreign emotion. He was one-half of the best detective duo in Bay City. Other departments came to *him* for help. He had awards and medals to back that up. He and Hutch were the ones you went to when you were in trouble. And he was proud of that.

But this… the sitting around and twiddling his thumbs, merely assessing and stabilizing and thinking… he hadn't been so helpless since he sat at Terry's bedside, watching her die.

He would *not* sit here and watch Hutch die.

Starsky sucked in a breath and held it until it burned in his lungs, then he blew it out slowly. He looked down to the bulge where his knee should be and winced, reaching out a trembling hand to touch it. It was hot under the tight denim, and very painful since his stunt with the Torino. He glanced up, looking down the hill to the large red car and all its pretty silver grille-work and sparkling headlights. It seemed to be staring at him. Leering.

Starsky shook his head and snatched the bottle of aspirin. He wanted to save the entire bottle for Hutch, but he would be no good to his partner like this, with a leg so messed up that he couldn't get his ass off the ground. Starsky popped the lid off the bottle, took out two pills, then a third, and recapped the bottle and set it aside. He grabbed the dirt-covered water bottle and quickly downed the pills, wincing as the action pulled at the many cuts on the side of his face.

A whimper at his side prompted Starsky to refocus on Hutch. He looked down, seeing Hutch squeeze his eyes shut, his breathing getting quicker - a sign that he was waking up. Starsky planted his hands in the dirt and shifted so he could face Hutch better.

"Hey," he said, rubbing Hutch's bicep. "You awake?"

Hutch started to roll backwards, but the sun must have been too bright even behind closed eyelids, for he quickly rolled face down onto the ground. "Hurts," came a murmur from the dirt.

"I know," Starsky replied, smiling softly at just being able to hear his friend's voice. "I'll help you sit up and you can take some pills."

He was answered with a snort that turned into a cough, then Hutch pulled into himself even more. "Starsky?"

Starsky reached down and took hold of Hutch's fisted hand. "I'm here."

"What happened?"

Starsky's heart dropped. "We were ran off the road, remember? We're kinda stuck about half-way down the side of this mountain. Can you sit up?"

"Hurts."

"I know it does, Blintz. I've got some pills for ya, but you gotta sit up." Starsky slid his hands into Hutch's armpits and tugged, barely suppressing a groan at the pain in his knee.

After a hard-fought and painful struggle, Hutch was more or less sitting up and leaning against Starsky's side. "Here," Starsky said, grabbing Hutch's nearest hand and placing 4 pills in it.

Hutch just stared at his hand, so Starsky nudged it up towards his face. When Hutch tossed back the pills, Starsky gave him the bottle of water.

"You'll feel better soon," Starsky said, relaxing a little now that he had gotten some medicine into his friend. He took back the bottle of water before Hutch could start gulping. "You'll get more in a bit."

Hutch was breathing heavy from the exertion. "What are we going to do?"

"We're going to survive this," Starsky replied, because he had no better answer, and then he felt Hutch tense suddenly. "Hutch?"

Hutch began taking deep breaths. "Gonna be sick."

"No you're not," Starsky argued, placing a hand on Hutch's back. "Just stay calm and ride through it, you hear?"

Hutch shook his head and began tilting forward.

Starsky grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back, keeping one hand on his spine in between his shoulder blades, rubbing in circles. "Hutch, listen to me, just take deep breaths and concentrate. I've seen more than my fair share of vomit today, I do not want to see any more, got it?"

He heard Hutch swallow and breath heavily through his nose. Starsky willed Hutch to keep down the precious medicine. They didn't have any to spare.
At last, he seemed to calm down and Starsky let his hand drop from Hutch's back. "You okay?"

He was met with a small groan. "For now."

That was good enough for Starsky. Hutch's pulse was still a little fast, but it was also still strong. Starsky sent a prayer heavenwards and noticed the sun was sinking even lower. The night would be cold, but not dangerously so. They would survive it.

"So you mean to tell me," Hutch started, his weak voice breaking the near-silence around them, "that you crawled out of Nam but can't crawl up this mountain?"

Starsky smiled. "This knee can barely support me, I'll never be able to get us up there."

"Who said anything about me?"

Something pierced Starsky's heart. "I'm not going anywhere without you, Hutch."

He felt Hutch sigh against him, and Starsky wished he could see his partner's face. Hutch's voice was calm. "You can go get help. Bring them back."

"It's at least fifteen miles back to that gas station," Starsky argued. "I can't go that far like this." It would be suicide. For both of them.

"So… after all these years of arresting drug lords and pimps and gun runners," Hutch said, his voice growing weaker by the second, "We're gonna die 'cuz of some kids?"

"We're not going to die," Starsky said harshly, almost vehemently. "Don't think like that Hutch. I'm serious. We're going to get off this mountain."

Seconds ticked by and Starsky was worried that Hutch didn't believe him. But then he felt Hutch relax completely, his head rolling back to land on Starsky's collarbone, and Starsky smiled softly.

As he listened to Hutch's slow, easy breathing, Starsky began working on a plan.

~o0O0o~

He knew he should be scared, but Hutch just didn't have the strength.

He was laying on his back in the dirt, with a particularly long and knobby stick pressing painfully into his tailbone, no idea how on earth he got here, and he was looking straight into the blue eyes of Terry Roberts.

Terry Roberts, one of Starsky's few true loves, who also happened to be dead.

She was standing about five feet away, her dark hair shining in the sunlight that filtered through the trees, her clothes plain and form-fitting, and she was looking very much alive.

He had to be dreaming. Hutch pinched his eyes shut, held his breath until it burned, then exhaled and opened his eyes.

A bird swooped between two trees, and its shadow danced across the ground.

Nothing. No Terry. Nothing that even *hinted* she had been standing there.

Hutch sighed. His head was starting to hurt. Pound, actually - his temples were pounding harder and harder the more the thought about it. His ribs ached and Hutch tried to breath as shallowly as possible. He was leaning back against something warm and solid, and after Hutch concentrated on his surroundings, he heard a soft snoring that matched the gentle rhythm to which the softness rose and fell.

So Starsky was behind him, and obviously asleep - or knocked out. Where were they? Had Starsky come to rescue him and got hurt in the process?

Hutch glanced around for the LTD but didn't see it. A little further down the hill, caught awkwardly against a tree, sat the crumpled Torino. Hutch squinted in concentration. He was remembering now… there were flashes of driving up the mountain, then Starsky's shout, then free falling and… nothing?

Not nothing.

Pain.

Hutch let his eyes fall shut as he tilted his head back against Starsky's chest, swallowing a wave of nausea. Couldn't they ever catch a break? He furrowed his brows against the sun's brightness through his eyelids and waited for his stomach to stop its flip-flops.

A hand clamped down on his leg and he jumped, pulling his head forward so fast that he nearly fell over.

Terry was right beside him now, kneeling on the dirt and dead leaves, her hand on his leg just above the knee, and she was looking straight into his eyes.

He stopped breathing, his breath caught in his throat.

She blinked, and he panicked.

Hutch planted his hands on either side of him and pushed back, trying to buck her off. He didn't care *who* she was, the fact remained that she was still dead and dead people should not be touching him. His head hit Starsky's sternum hard and the pressure on his ribcage ignited a searing pain in his chest. His throat closed off and hot tears filled his eyes, blurring his surroundings as he blinked rapidly. Hutch's entire universe came down to the agony of his ribs, and the lack of oxygen was causing black spots to blossom in his vision. His ears were ringing, and terror gave him strength to continue struggling, trying to draw air into his lungs. The pain was all-consuming, paralyzing his lungs in its intensity. It was mind over matter, he knew that in the back of his mind, but Hutch found himself stuck in a downward spiral.

Arms wrapped around him with gentle, firm pressure, and Hutch slowly stopped struggling. When the ringing in his ears faded, he could hear Starsky's soft voice in his ear and his warm breath on his neck, raising the hair there.

"…Just calm down Hutch… breathe through it. Quit fightin' me, ya dummy."

At last, Hutch relaxed enough to breath and he gulped in the air like a fish out of water. The numbness in his arms and legs was replaced by a sharp tingling sensation, and the darkness slowly receded from his vision. His head rested limply against Starsky's chest, and he didn't have the strength to be embarrassed by the position. He blinked the moisture from his eyes and looked around, panting softly through the pain.

Terry was gone.

"What happened, huh?" Starsky asked, breaking the near-silence. "One minute I'm sleeping and the next, you're not breathing. Something else I need to worry about here?"

Hutch focused on slowing his breathing. The less he had to move his ribs, the better. Starsky's words were blowing by him too fast, and he didn't even try to understand. He couldn't concentrate on breathing and holding a conversation at the same time.

"Hutch?"

Hutch blinked and continued staring at the dirt. He was dying, he knew it. Terry was the angel of death - albeit a very pretty one - and she was here to take Hutch away.

He didn't want to go.

"Here, drink this. You're white as a ghost."

Hutch's head was tipped back and he closed his eyes against the sun. Something lukewarm and wet filled his mouth and he swallowed on instinct, like a helpless baby bird.

Helpless though he might have been, the water seemed to help clear his thoughts. He pulled his head down and raised an arm to push away the water bottle.

"You with me now?" Starsky asked, and Hutch heard the bottle hit the leaves.

Hutch started to nod but stopped himself, afraid his head might roll off if he did so. "Yeah," he grunted instead, his voice hoarse even to his own ears.

"How ya feelin'?"

Hutch snorted very softly and closed his eyes, lacking the strength to roll them. "Jus' peachy."

Starsky shifted behind him and Hutch felt him tense, suppressing a yelp. He had forgotten that Starsky was hurt too. That was the reason they were still sitting here.

"You okay?" he asked. The water was threatening to come back up.

"Peachy."

Hutch was pulled back against Starsky chest and the pressure from his ribs lessened a little. "Hey Starsk?" he asked, relaxing against his partner's warm body. "Do you believe in ghosts?"

Starsky was very still. Then, "Yeah, I guess. Sometimes. Why?"

"Just wondering." Sleep was pulling at him hard, turning his limbs to stone. If he was going to have an angel of death, he was glad it was Terry.

"You're not thinking of anything stupid, are ya?"

Hutch shook his head against the uneven surface of Starsky's chest. "Don't wanna leave."

Blackness took him quickly, just as Starsky answered:

"Then don't."

~o0O0o~

Starsky woke up suddenly, as had become a habit while on this mountain.

There was no peaceful transition periods, the time where everything was still warm and fuzzy and dark- no, one minute he was asleep and the next - Bam. Awake.

Twigs were poking him in the ass and he was numb from having been under Hutch's weight for so long. The ground was getting cold now, and realizing it made Starsky shiver. In contrast, Hutch's dead weight against his chest was keeping him warm, and Starsky was a little reluctant to get up.

At last, after being unsuccessful in finding a comfortable position, Starsky eased himself out from underneath his sleeping partner. He lay Hutch back against the tree trunk, cupping his head to keep it from banging against the bark, then patted his shoulder softly before straightening. It was clear that Hutch wouldn't be going anywhere.

Now, he had work to do.

Starsky limped awkwardly down the hill towards the Torino. The sun was beginning to set, and more than once Starsky tripped over hidden branches. By the time he reached the car, his knee was throbbing unbearably and it wouldn't hold any weight. Starsky used the hood of the car for balance as he hobbled backwards, pulling open the door. The hinges groaned and Starsky winced. Now the Torino was in no better shape than Hutch's battered LTD. It was a good thing Hutch was unconscious, or Starsky would never live this down.

As much as he wanted to collapse upon the familiar black leather seat, his fear of sliding down the mountainside to his death was stronger. Slowly, painfully, Starsky eased himself down and panted through the waves of pain that radiated from his knee. When his mind was clear again, he reached for the CB radio. The faceplate was cracked and dirty and some wires were exposed, but there was always a chance…

"Attention all units, this is Zebra Three, do you copy?"

Starsky depressed the button and static filled the air.

He tried again. "This is Zebra Three, I have an emergency, does anybody copy?"

The static was ominous and deafening.

Frustrated and scared, Starsky ripped the hand piece from the unit and threw it as hard as he could. He watched it bounce down the mountainside, scattering the leaves every time it impacted with the ground, and grimaced at the pain lancing through his knee. Of course the CB wouldn't work. Had he really expected it to, knowing their kind of luck?

"Am I next?"

Starsky jumped, getting to his feet as he focused on his partner's voice. "What?"

Hutch was still using the tree for support, leaning against it like he was molded to it. He gave a half-smile and said, "When you realize that I'm useless too, you gonna toss me down the mountain?"

The car door fell shut behind Starsky as he climbed his way back up to Hutch. "Who says you're useless, huh?"

Hutch smiled wider then he swallowed, planted his hands in the dirt on either side of him. "I have to piss."

Starsky moved faster, ignoring his knee as he went to Hutch's side. "Don't even try to get up by yourself," he snapped, reaching down to grab Hutch's arm. "Lemme help you."

Hutch didn't reply - at least not with words. He grunted as Starsky hauled him to his feet, and Starsky moved under Hutch's shoulder to catch his weight. "Sorry," he mumbled, even though Starsky bet that whichever way he tried to help, it would cause Hutch pain.

"S'okay," Hutch panted, putting more and more weight on Starsky's bad knee as they moved.

It was a burden Starsky would never trade.

When they had moved a fair distance away, Starsky parked Hutch against a tree and hovered while Hutch relieved himself. When the sound of urine splashing over dead leaves finally ceased, Starsky moved forward to collect Hutch once more.

The fact that Hutch didn't resist made Starsky worry even more.

Hutch's strength was obviously fading. His feet barely lifted from the ground - instead , shuffling through the leaves and stumbling on the bountiful rocks and twigs that lay camouflaged. Hutch had broken a sweat by the time they returned to 'camp', and his chin was almost resting on his chest.

"How ya feelin'?" Starsky asked, desperate to keep Hutch awake and his own mind off his throbbing knee.

Hutch lifted his head and blinked as if clearing his vision. "Like I've been run over by a truck," he replied flatly.

Starsky lowered him to the ground. "That's about how you look, too," he commented with a grin as Hutch settled himself against the tree. He grabbed the water bottle and Tylenol. "Here. Take some more."

As expected, Hutch shook his head slowly and made no effort to take the items. Starsky rolled his eyes, inwardly cursing stubborn blond detectives, and thrust the bottles closer. "Hutch, take them. Here, I'll even get some out for you." He tossed the water bottle in Hutch's lap and shook out three pills, then extended his hand once more. "Take it."

"Starsk, I-"

"Don't make me shove these down your throat like a dog. Just take the damn pills."

At last, Hutch surrendered and plucked the pills from Starsky's hand. He tossed them in his mouth and took a small swallow of the water.

"Good boy." Starsky lowered himself to the ground next to Hutch, keeping his injured leg as straight as he could. Next to him, Hutch fought through his queasiness and managed to keep the Tylenol down. Maybe things were starting to look up.

Hutch shivered. "What about you? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, just wrecked my knee. I'll live." Starsky looked around them, eyeing the infinite number of trees as they reflected themselves for as far as the eye could see. He felt hopeless. They were so far lost it would be a nothing short of a miracle if they were found. Alive.

"I'm going to have to climb outta here," Starsky stated at last.

Hutch snorted, his eyes at half-mast and staring blankly out amongst the trees. "You do and we'll both die."

"But if I just sit here -"

"If you just sit here, we'll have a chance. If you try to climb up this mountain on that knee, you'll be lucky to even reach the road. And even if you do -" Hutch continued quickly when Starsky opened his mouth to interrupt, "It's still at least twenty miles back to the gas station. You could fall and break your neck, or get hit by a car."

Starsky realized the options were bleak. He could go, risking permanent damage to his leg while leaving Hutch unprotected from wild animals and sickness - or he could stay and they could fend for themselves for a few days, at least. Surely in that time they could come up with a plan, right?

He sighed. "Okay. I'll stay. But only because you wouldn't be here if it weren't for me."

"What?" Hutch blinked, furrowing his brows as he stared at Starsky. "What are you talking about? I was in the car too."

"I'm the one who told you to get in the back seat. It was stupid - I shouldn't care about that car more than you."

Hutch shook his head. "Starsky, you didn't know there would be a car full of kids ahead. You're being ridiculous."

A flame of anger danced within Starsky. "It's not ridiculous, Hutch. Look at me - all I got was a busted knee. You got one hell of a concussion and probably some broken ribs. I shouldn't have sent you over the seat."

Hutch rolled his eyes and Starsky recognized stubbornness when he saw it. "I'm not playing the blame game with you right now," Hutch grumbled. "Just drop it."

Starsky watched as Hutch swallowed and blinked, leaving his eyes shut a little longer than necessary. Lines of pain and exhaustion were etched around his eyes and mouth, and Starsky decided that just this once, he *would* drop it. The crickets were out now, and the birds seemed to be settling in for the night. The sun was a brilliant, Tang-orange as it dipped into the tree line. If not for the fact that they were stranded and injured, the scene might almost be enjoyable.

"Okay," Starsky said at last, picking up a small twig and breaking it in half. "You win. This time."

Hutch smiled as he leaned his head back against the tree. "Sweet taste of victory…"

Starsky threw the sticks into the leaves some distance away. "Yeah, well don't get used to it. I'm better looking, remember."

Hutch never replied, but when he fell asleep there was a smile on his face.

Starsky studied his partner once more, then settled himself in for the night watch.

~o0O0o~

This time when Hutch saw Terry, he was wide awake.

The sun was fighting a losing battle to stay above the horizon. Long, dark shadows were cast over the ground, elongating the trees and isolating Hutch and Starsky even more. The owls were calling softly to one another and their eyes flashed in the dim light. The forest seemed to have grown while Hutch had been asleep.

But the most unnerving feature of all was the life-sized, painfully life-like figure before him.

Hutch shivered dramatically, his elbow knocking against Starsky's ribs as goose bumps rose on his skin. The action awoke the pain in his chest and head, and Hutch groaned, feeling hot and miserable.

"Hey," Starsky murmured, tightening his arm around Hutch's shoulders. "You awake?"

God, he didn't want to be. "Yeah."

Starsky sighed, and Hutch felt each of his partner's muscles. "We're out of Tylenol. I'm sorry."

Hutch shrugged and let his eyes fall shut. It was getting harder to think as the day wore on.

"We're nearly out of food too. It's a good thing you packed that rabbit food in the first place."

There was an itch in his throat, and Hutch started coughing, finding that once started, it was hard to stop. The harsh movements wreaked havoc on his ribs, and he tried desperately to calm down as Starsky rubbed his back.

"You don't look good," Starsky said when Hutch had at last stopped coughing. "I'm going to look for wood to build a fire."

Hutch nodded, afraid to talk and wind up in another coughing fit. As soon as Starsky pulled away, Hutch was cold. He looked up, watching as Starsky limped away, and spotted Terry, closer than she was before.

"He cares about you, you know."

Hutch jumped. She was talking to him?

"I'm glad you two are there for each other. He was so heartbroken when I left."

Hutch glanced at Starsky, who was pecking around in the leaves, dutifully collecting branches.

Terry moved forward so that she was an arm's length from Hutch. "He can't see me."

She looked so… solid. Hutch reached out slowly, his trembling hand aiming for her shoulder, and watched in morbid fascination as his hand slid right through her. He pulled away, wrapping his arms around himself. He would have moved back, if he had the strength and a tree weren't blocking his path.

"Don't be afraid."

"I'm not," Hutch replied instantly. Then, "Should I be?"

Terry smiled. "No. I'm just here to help you."

Hutch relaxed a little. "So you're not here to, you know… take me away?"

Terry looked puzzled for a moment. "To heaven? Oh no sweetie, I'm not one of those. In fact, I'd really like it if you two stayed alive. Guess I'm more of a guardian angel."

"Oh. Good."

"Hutch?" Starsky called, standing about twenty feet away and with his arms full of branches. "You okay?"

Hutch tore his gaze away from Terry. "Uh, yeah. You don't… you don't see anyone else around, do you?"

Starsky raised an eyebrow. "Just you and me, babe."

Hutch sniffed and nodded quickly. "Yeah. I know."

Starsky stared at him a moment longer, looking like he was going to argue, but then continued gathering wood.

Terry was still beside him.

"Why can't he see you?" Hutch asked. He hadn't missed the longing in Terry's fair features as she watched Starsky.

"He doesn't want to," she replied softly. Her gaze dropped to the ground and Hutch watched the sun reflect in her dark hair. "Thinking of me hurts him too much."

Hutch blinked. That didn't seem right, did it? "But he *loves* you. Why doesn't he want to see you? Have you tried?"

"Yes," Terry replied. "But my death caused him a lot of suffering. It's probably better if he doesn't see me."

Hutch had to agree with her there. Starsky had been out of it for a long while after Terry died in the hospital.

"Then why did you come to me?" Hutch asked as he rubbed his forehead. The headache was gaining in intensity and it was getting hard to think clearly.

"Like I said, I'm here to save you." She cast Hutch a meaningful look. "But you're going to have to get him to do what you say. It wont be easy - he wont believe you."

"Believe me? He's my partner, he believes anything I-"

"Okay, you've really got me worried here, buddy." Starsky dropped the armload of branches between them. "Who're you talking to?"

Hutch looked up, letting his head fall back against the tree. "Uh…" he started, feeling like a kid caught with a hand in the cookie jar. "Nobody. Just myself. I've got it figured out."

"Yourself. Right." Starsky placed a hand on his forehead. "Shit, you're hot."

Terry was behind Starsky, watching him with tear-filled eyes that sparkled in the dying sunlight. Hutch felt a pang of sympathy for her, and for Starsky, because she was right - he had been heartbroken when she died. Hutch had been there to collect the pieces. How many more times could Starsky survive that kind of pain?

"So you figured it out, huh?"

His lucidity and strength were waning. "What?"

Starsky rolled his eyes. "You just said you figured it out."

"Figured what out?"

"We're going to need more firewood," Starsky grumbled. "You look like shit. I shouldn't have taken the last of the pills."

Hutch huffed. "You would have fallen down the mountain and broken your neck if you hadn't," he said. "And don't forget, I need you."

"You won't need me if you die of pneumonia."

"Starsky!" Terry scolded, and Hutch couldn't stop his smile.

"What, you think this is funny?" Starsky snapped, his hands on his hips.

Sleep was pulling at Hutch and his eyes were losing focus. "Of course not. You sound like your mother is all." He yawned, his body desperate for oxygen.

"Yeah? And how do you know what my mother sounds like?"

Hutch's eyes fell shut and he shook his head. He had met her, hadn't he? He'd certainly heard enough about her, he *felt* like he knew her. "She's a sweet lady. Terry too."

He felt Starsky's breath on his cheek. "What? What about Terry?"

The voice was inches from his ear, and Hutch turned away. His face pressed in to the bark and he welcomed the coolness.

"No, Hutch, come on - Damnit, stay awake! What about Terry?"

The pain faded away as he slipped deeper towards unconsciousness. It was like being caught in a vacuum - no matter how hard he fought, he couldn't escape the pull.

As Hutch dropped into the void, he heard two voices calling his name.

~o0O0o~

"Shit."

Starsky rocked back on his heel, catching himself as he lost balance and landed on his ass. His injured leg was splayed out to the side, the heel of his sneaker digging into the soft dirt.

He felt helpless, alone, scared and confused all at the same time and the emotional overload was draining him. Hutch had fallen limp against the tree, but at least some of the lines of pain had faded from his pale face. He had to get Hutch to a hospital. The knot on his head was swollen to the size of an egg and it was oozing orange-tinted serum. Starsky could only be grateful that the bleeding had stopped. Hutch's ribs had to be painful, especially now that a cough had settled in his lungs. Starsky could wrap ribs with the best of them, but he could do nothing for the sickness that had taken hold.

And the whole talking-to-himself thing had Starsky *really* scared. Hutch was a pretty down to earth guy - Starsky had *never* heard Hutch talking to himself, short of being in a state of delirium. The really scary part was that Hutch seemed to be looking at something in particular when he was doing it. Was he seeing things? Imaginary friends? Ghosts?

And the mention of Terry - what if Hutch had been seeing her? Starsky shivered at the thought, and he tried to push that image away. Losing her had been painful - it still was - and he really didn't think he could bring himself to humor Hutch.

Starsky maneuvered himself, dragging his leg through the leaves as he settled himself next to Hutch. One thing was for sure - he would not lose Hutch without a fight. Maybe he should try to get them up the mountain and onto the road. At least then they would have a chance.

Yeah right, if they didn't get hit by a car first.

Starsky sighed and pressed himself against his sleeping friend. They were royally screwed this time.

He looked around the woods, inwardly cursing their fate. A gentle breeze blew over him and the leaves rustled, surrounding him in whispers of sound. The Torino stared up at him from its resting place further down the mountain. If they ever did get out of this, it would cost a big chunk of change to get her repaired. Why did he even bother? Why not just get a new car? Maybe something not as flashy, maybe something more… normal.

A soft noise from his partner answered for him. Starsky was not the kind of person to replace what he loved, no matter how much damage they suffered. He couldn't replace the Torino any more than he could replace Hutch. It just wasn't in him.

"Don't worry," Starsky mumbled, wrapping an arm around Hutch's shoulders. "We'll get out of this, I swear it."

With a deep sigh, Starsky closed his own eyes and let himself drift off.

~o0O0o~

"Come on Hutch, wake up!"

The voice grew louder as something tapped his cheek relentlessly. Hutch turned away from the sensations. "Go away, Sonny."

"Who's Sonny? Hutch, come on, get up!"

Hutch furrowed his brow in thought. It was a woman's voice calling to him, not the Colonel's. Had someone *sane* finally found him? Was he finally going to be rescued, finally get out from underneath his car?

"Hutch I'm serious. Open your eyes right now."

Shocked by the authoritative order, Hutch obeyed.

His dark and calm world was promptly destroyed as pain lanced through his head and chest. The nauseous feeling was back now, and Hutch struggled to settle his stomach as the world spun around him. He wasn't under his car, it wasn't sunny and hot, and it wasn't a crazy old man standing before him.

"Come on, I know it's hard and you're hurt, but you have to focus."

"Easy for you to say," Hutch retorted, pressing a palm to his face to keep his head from rolling off.

"Hutch? What's wrong?"

Beside him, Starsky shifted and squinted through the darkness. Hutch looked back to Terry. "Nothing. Right?"

"You have to get him to turn on the headlights," Terry said urgently. Her eyes were wide and nervous energy made her fidget where she stood.

Hutch shivered, powerless to stop it. "Don't you think he would have tried that?"

"Hutch?" Starsky said cautiously. "Who're you talkin' to?"

"You have to trust me," Terry insisted, stepping closer to Hutch. "Please, I'm trying to save you."

"Hutch?"

Hutch's head was spinning. He could barely keep the voices straight - it took all he had just to stay awake. "Starsky?"

"Who you talking to?" Starsky was looking very serious - almost sad - as the pale moonlight dusted their bodies.

"You have to turn on the headlights," Hutch replied, dodging the question. He swallowed thickly, his tongue seeming to have swollen inside his mouth. "You gotta trust me."

"I already tried that, remember? Almost killed myself doing it."

"He has to," Terry urged. "It will work this time."

Hutch coughed, pulling away from the tree so as not to jar his ribs. "You gotta try again. It'll work."

"No it won't," Starsky said as he eased Hutch back against the tree. "The battery is dead as a doornail. The car could slide down the mountain. Then where would you be, huh? Plus, the headlights wouldn't even reach the road!"

Hutch looked to Terry for help. "He's not going to do it."

"Then you both will die."

Hutch gulped and tried to keep his vision in focus.

"Hutch, snap out of it. You know I like to give you shit about talking to your plants, but this is ridiculous."

"Starsky, I'm dying."

Starsky looked as if he'd been hit. "Shut up. You're not going to die."

"You have to turn on the lights."

"Hutch-"

"I'm talking to Terry," he interrupted, smiling a little as he looked at her.

Instantly, Starsky's face hardened. He leaned back. "You're talking to Terry?"

"Yeah," Hutch said, "She's standing right there." He couldn't lift a hand to point, so he nodded in her direction.

"He can't see me," she said sadly, even as Starsky looked straight through her.

"Oh, well then," Starsky replied cheerily, "Tell her I said hello. Ask her how the weather is up there."

Hutch inhaled, ready to tell Starsky to stop treating him like a spoiled child, but a tickle lodged in his throat and by the time it was over, he was left in a coughing, sweating, trembling heap.

"Hutch," Starsky sighed, disappointment heavy in his voice even as he held his partner. "You're really sick. You've got a fever and a concussion-"

"No!" Hutch argued, surprising himself. "She's right there, Starsk. She is."

"Sure she is."

Of course it wouldn't have been easy. Who would *want* to believe that their dead loved one had returned to earth as a spirit visible to everyone but them? "I swear on my mother's life, Starsky."

"Hutch, stop it." Starsky's voice was icy. Hutch could see an impenetrable wall being erected within his partner.

"Hutch, it's okay. Don't try to make him-"

Hutch shook his head and when he stopped, the world still spun around him. "No, it's not okay. He's my partner, he's gotta trust me."

Starsky ducked his head, and Terry looked hurt.

"She's wearing that sweater with the gray kitten on it," Hutch pushed, ignoring the bead of sweat that rolled down his neck. "And the gold necklace that you made me help pick out. Remember it, Starsk? You were so excited to give it to her… you were in a good mood for the rest of the week." He smiled at the memory. Starsky had dragged him to every jewelry store in Bay City before finally deciding on the right necklace. He and Terry were going out for dinner that night, and Starsky wanted everything to be perfect. Hutch had been glad that his partner had seemingly found 'the one'.

Now Terry ducked her head. Starsky seemed frozen, his face expressionless as he stared at Hutch. His eyes, though… emotions swirled violently beneath the blue. Hurt, anger, longing…

"So if she's there, why can't I see her? How come you *can*?"

There was a bitterness to Starsky's voice that Hutch didn't like. He didn't want to hurt Starsky's feelings, so he tried to be placating. "She said it's because her memory still hurts you too much. You know… self-preservation." He watched as Starsky's anger seemed to melt away. Unsure of what would happen next, he added, "I'm sorry."

Starsky pushed to his feet with such surprising suddenness that Hutch had to catch himself before he landed face down in the dirt. Quickly for someone with only one good leg, Starsky limped off into the darkness without a backwards glance.

"I pissed him off," Hutch stated.

Terry gave him a small, sad smile. "He'll be back."

"You told me it'd be hard, didn't you?" Hutch let his head fall back against the tree.

Terry sat beside Hutch. "I did."

Hutch looked over at her. "How *have* you been?"

"I'm happy. You can tell Starsky that."

Hutch smiled and closed his eyes. "I will, when this is over."

Terry laid a hand on his knee. "You're a good friend to him, Hutch. Thank you."

The sudden sound of Starsky hobbling through the leaves made Hutch jump. He squinted through the darkness, watching through a slightly cross-eyed gaze as Starsky returned. Wordlessly, Starsky returned to his position next to Hutch, bracing himself on the tree as he slid down to the ground, doing his best to keep his injured leg straight.

When he had settled down, Starsky took a deep breath. "Suppose I believe you."

"Okay."

"Where is she?"

Hutch blinked slowly. "Sitting on the other side of me."

Slowly, as if attempting to photograph a wild animal, Starsky leaned forward and peered around Hutch's limp form.

He sighed, and flopped back against the same tree Hutch was resting against. "Nothing's there."

Hutch didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything.

"Tell her I miss her, and that I still love her."

"She's sitting right here, she can hear you."

"Oh."

"Hutch? Tell him I still love him, too."

Hutch relaxed against Starsky, trying to ease the constant shivering. "Feeling's mutual, Starsk."

Starsky smiled and wrapped an arm around Hutch, sparing one more searching look over the blond head.

After a few seconds, Hutch spoke up. "No one's coming to save us," he said softly, looking down at the Torino. The car was dark save for the moonlight reflecting off the glass. "You have to turn on the lights." He didn't know how it would work, but he trusted Terry with their lives.

"Hutch…"

"Please. Terry says I'm dying." He felt Starsky tense beside him, but if guilt is what it took to get his partner moving, then so be it. "You would never make it up the mountain if you climbed. This is our only chance." A well-timed shiver added to his desperation.

There was a moment of charged silence and Hutch was worried that Starsky would still refuse. Terry was watching with interest, her eyes shining with moonlight and hope.

"Okay."

Hutch smiled even as his eyelids were too heavy to keep open. "Be careful."

Starsky got up slowly, catching Hutch as he slid against the bark. "Aren't I always?"

"I said careful, not careless."

Starsky snorted from somewhere above him. "Funny man."

Hutch listened as Starsky limped downwards, towards the Torino. Sleep was pulling at him once again, and he was eager to escape the pain. Barely aware of Terry still at his side, Hutch murmured, "Keep an eye on him. …Kinda like the guy."

He was asleep before she could reply.

~o0O0o~

"This is crazy. I'm going to get myself killed. Why do I listen to him? I shouldn't be taking orders from delusional, incapacitated, concussed White Knights."

Starsky limped along, grumbling under his breath and trying to dodge the hidden twigs underfoot. The going was slow and treacherous, especially when you only had one good leg.

And it was dark.

Starsky reached the car and grasped the hood with both hands, leaning on it as he caught his breath. He glanced back to Hutch, who was still propped up against the tree, and hoped that this was the right thing to do, for both their sakes. He trusted Hutch with his life, as long as said partner was in his right mind. When Starsky stepped back from the situation, he still had a little trouble believing that Hutch was sound. Sure he was convincing, but would that be enough to keep them safe?

Starsky sighed and grabbed the door handle. He was running on blind faith here.

He shrugged. It wasn't the first time.

Starsky pulled the passenger door open, hobbling backwards as he did so. Although the car had slid a little from his last attempts at starting it, the driver's side door was still smashed up against a tree, holding the car in place very delicately. The car's nose was pointed up hill at nearly a forty-five degree angle. Behind the car, the mountain dropped off steeply, the slope punctuated only by thick-trunked trees and boulders.

Dancing around the open door, Starsky threw himself onto the passenger seat as delicately as he could. The door swung shut behind him and he caught it just before it pinched his bad leg. He struggled to keep the door open and pull himself inside at the same time. At last, Starsky raised his foot high enough to pull his leg in the car and onto the floor board. His knee was screaming from the abuse as the car door banged shut.

All his struggling must have caused the car to slip, because the distinct sound of groaning metal and tinkling glass filled the air. Starsky held his breath and sat absolutely still, momentarily forgetting the pain in his leg.

After a few seconds, the ominous noise stopped, and Starsky was still alive.

He looked through the broken windshield and was pleased to see Hutch in the same place he had left him. "Thank God for small miracles," he murmured, then wiped his sweating, shaking hands on his jeans. He would *not* have liked an audience for *that* near-death encounter.

"Okay," Starsky grumbled, looking around the familiar- yet not- car. "He wants me to trust him, I'll trust him all right." Starsky placed one hand on the driver's seat and leaned over, trying to see around the steering column to locate the switch for the headlights. Broken glass crunched under his palm and he winced, withdrawing and wiping it away before continuing.

"Come on, where are you…" he muttered, stretching as far as he could without actually crossing the console and getting into the driver's seat. He wanted to stay as close to the exit as possible. At last, his fingers brushed the knob, and he smiled.

"Moment of truth…"

He turned the knob and brilliant, glorious white light cut through the darkness, blazing a trail up the side of the mountain.

Starsky sat in awe. "Well I'll be damned…" A smiled crossed his face and he leaned back, relaxing for a moment to enjoy his small victory. It was then that Starsky realized something. He had agreed and carried out this hare-brained mission of Hutch's without really expecting to succeed. In fact, Starsky could have gotten in the car and found himself in a deathtrap, hurtling down the mountain and towards certain death just as easily. Is that how much Starsky cared for his friend? Was this a defining moment in their closer-than-brothers relationship? Starsky was really willing to die for Hutch based on something he saw through a *concussion*?

Yes, Starsky realized just as quickly, he *would* die for Hutch if there were any hope at all that they would be saved.

Starsky looked through the spider-webbed glass and up at the illuminated mountainside. Hope might be all they had at the moment. The lights worked, yes, but would anyone see them?

Suddenly, Starsky remembered the high beams. He braced himself and leaned across the seat once more.

Without any warning, Starsky felt the car give way with a loud crack. He grabbed the dashboard as the Torino rolled backwards downhill, bumping and lurching violently as branches snapped and popped beneath it. Starsky's heart was in his throat, and it was filled with remorse.

I tried, babe. I'm sorry.

Just as suddenly, the car jerked to a halt. He didn't care *why*, Starsky simply shoved open the passenger door and threw himself to the ground, landing face first in the musty, dry leaves. His knee exploded in pain as it hit the dirt, and Starsky rolled onto his side and tried to curl in on himself until it passed. At least he was back on solid ground.

"Starsky! Come on… answer me!"

Frowning, hoping Hutch's voice wasn't as close as it *sounded*, Starsky raised his head and peered up the incline.

Damnit.

"Hutch!" Starsky groaned in frustration. "What are you doing?" he yelled. "Don't move!"

Hutch was now halfway between where Starsky had left him and where the Torino had come to a rest. He was collapsed upon the ground in a heap of dirty, sweaty, bloody clothes and tender-hearted partner. One hand was outstretched in Starsky's direction, the other curled tightly around his ribs. His eyes flashed in the moonlight.

Starsky pulled himself up, resting on his good knee before using his hands to get to his feet. "Stay there," he repeated, as if Hutch might bolt any second.

Hutch was too far from their 'camp' for Starsky to drag back. Hell, Starsky could barely drag *himself* anywhere, let alone his partner too. As he fought his way uphill, Starsky prayed that Hutch hadn't injured himself further by moving.

By the time Starsky reached Hutch, all his muscles were heavy and burning with fatigue. He spun as he collapsed and landed on his rear next to Hutch. "Hey," he said, grabbing Hutch by the shoulders and rolling him on to his back in Starsky's lap. "You tryin' to kill yourself? What are you doin' down here?"

"Saw the car…" Hutch panted. "Thought you were…"

Starsky placed a cold hand on Hutch's fever-warm forehead, and Hutch closed his eyes, relief apparent on his drawn and pale face. Hutch's pulse was racing and he was sweating, but shivers still wracked his lanky body. "How you feelin'?" Starsky asked softly.

"Ribs hurt… think I made it worse…"

Starsky's heart dropped. "Just stay still. We're not going anywhere for a while." His eyes were locked on Hutch's abnormally dark lips.

Hutch turned his head, studying a point just in front of them. "Yeah…" he nodded, then turned to Starsky. "Terry says you did good, Starsk."

Starsky smiled and looked in the same direction. Again, nothing was there. "She better be right about all this," he replied, raking his fingers through Hutch's damp hair.

"She says… we'll make it."

Hutch tensed and started coughing then, turning onto his side as fluid crackled in his throat. Starsky simply held him, powerless to do anything to calm the pain. When Hutch finally quieted, Starsky eased him back, closing his eyes when he saw the small trail of blood coming from the corner of Hutch's mouth. He needed to get Hutch to a hospital! They shouldn't have wasted time with the stupid headlights. Hutch was fading fast, his lips and nail beds slowly turning blue, and they were no closer to help than they were yesterday.

"Come on Hutch, just take it slow. Deep breaths," Starsky coaxed, watching as Hutch struggled to keep from coughing. His eyes were at half-mast, and Starsky knew he was losing him.

"'M tired…" Hutch mumbled, his teeth rattling as he shivered.

"I know babe," Starsky replied. "But you gotta stay awake. Help's coming, remember?" It was a lie, Starsky knew it, but there was always hope.

"We'll… be fine." Hutch sighed, then coughed once and a fresh trail of blood dripped onto the dirty denim of Starsky's jeans.

His eyes fell shut.

"Hutch?"

Starsky leaned forward, pulling Hutch onto his back a little. "Come on, Hutch, stay with me!"

True terror squeezed his heart. He was suddenly alone, clinging to his unresponsive partner atop a God-forsaken mountain, ironically less than half a mile from the road. The pain in his knee was gone now as he focused all his attention on the shallow rise and fall of Hutch's chest.

Starsky looked up, tears filling his eyes as he realized that his might be the end of their partnership - no, it was more than that. It was a friendship, a *relationship*, closer than blood. "Terry? If you're really out there, please… do something. Don't let him die… not like this." He took a deep breath, wiping his eyes, and added, "He's all I got left."

Silence echoed all around him.

He sniffed, pulling Hutch closer. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you," he whispered. He didn't know which one he was referring to, if maybe both of them.

"Dave."

He looked up at the sound of his name, and looked into the face of someone he'd never thought he'd see again. "Terry?" he blinked. "You're real?"

She smiled. "I'm not real in body, no. But I am here in spirit."

Starsky smiled, and this time, he couldn't stop the tears that fell. "I… I can't believe it. How-"

Terry stepped forward and placed a finger to his lips. "Shhh. Don't worry about that. You have to keep him fighting."

Starsky shivered at the electricity on his skin. She pulled away and he looked down. Even unconscious, Hutch was still trembling. "You told him if we did this, we'd survive."

"And you will. If you keep him alive. Don't let him give up, Dave."

"I won't."

"Thank you for believing." Terry was smiling again. Her eyes and the gold necklace around her neck glittered in the light.

"He's gotten me to believe worse, trust me." Starsky sobered, and blinked up at her. She was still as beautiful as he remembered. "I miss you."

"I know."

Starsky stared at the picture of the cat on her sweater. "I remember that sweater. You said you would never throw it away because your grandmother had sewn it for you."

Terry smiled. "That's right."

He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I couldn't see you before. I shouldn't have let one bad memory overshadow all the good ones."

"You were hurt. You were grieving. I understand."

Starsky wiped at his eyes and rubbed his hand on his thigh. "Stay with me?" It was a desperate plea.

"I must go," she replied. "Help is coming now."

"Thank you."

"You did all the work, Dave." She nodded to Hutch. "Now just make him hold on."

When Starsky followed her gaze, Hutch started coughing, fighting weakly as Starsky struggled to keep him still. He murmured soothing, nonsense phrases, gently rocking them both until Hutch quieted down, returning to a deep sleep.

When he looked up, Terry was gone.

~o0O0o~

"…But some car are like that, you know? Well, no, I guess you wouldn't know. That clunker you drive is so… cumbersome…We really need to get you some new wheels, Hutch. Something that when you get behind the wheel, you can just let her go. Good cars are like that. They drive themselves, you just tell them where to go."

Darkness was still draped over the mountain like a heavy blanket. Starsky leaned forward, feeling his spine pop with the movement. He had been sitting with one leg bent underneath him for hours now, rambling out loud in hopes of Hutch waking up. He pulled Hutch's bangs away from his forehead and was mildly surprised to see wide, unblinking blue eyes. Hutch was awake, but staring blankly into the trees. His breathing was steady, but a muffled gurgle still accompanied each breath.

"Hey, you in there?" Starsky asked, jostling Hutch the tiniest bit.

"I'm here." Hutch blinked and looked up at Starsky. "You… done talking…yet?"

Starsky smiled. "And here I thought you liked my insightful introspections."

Hutch's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Thanks… for bein' here," he said softly, his breath warming Starsky's calf.

"Hey, where else would I be, huh?"

Hutch tried to press his face deeper into Starsky's lap. "Help's not coming."

"Don't say that," Starsky snapped. "I turned the headlights on, remember?"

Hutch shook his head. "Can't breathe… hurts."

The resignation in Hutch's voice cut through Starsky like an icy knife. "No! You aren't going anywhere, Blintz. You're stayin' with me and I'm gonna help you fight."

"Just lemme go, Starsk."

The words stung him to the core. They were the words he'd had nightmares about, and they were more painful than he'd ever imagined.

Swallowing down his pain, he plowed on. "No can do, Hutch. I made a promise to Terry."

Hutch's brows furrowed. "Terry?"

He nodded, forgetting Hutch couldn't see the action. "She told me help is on the way. We just have to hang on."

"So… you believe?"

A warm feeling came over him as he thought of Terry, smiling and lucid and not dying on a hospital bed. "Yeah buddy, I do. Guess you could say it was blind faith."

Starsky saw Hutch smile. "That's good."

Starsky rubbed his shoulder. "So tell me about this new girl you're-"

Hutch's steady, shallow breathing was interrupted by violent coughs. He closed his eyes as the convulsions brought up more blood, and Starsky was powerless to do anything but hold on to his partner's body. "Take it easy," he instructed, but it went unheeded. The body in his lap was taut and caught in a pain so great that even he could feel it. Warm blood seeped into his jeans before Hutch finally stilled.

"Hutch?" Starsky leaned forward, worried by the shining trail of blood leaking from Hutch's mouth. Hutch was unconscious once more, but the feather-soft pulse under his fingertips reassured Starsky that his partner was at least alive.

Starsky tilted his head back and looked up at the stars. "Now would be a great time to save him," he called out, hoping someone in the heavens would hear.

"…Somebody down there?"

Starsky froze.

"Hello?"

Starsky's face split into a grin. "We're down here!" he called back, *never* having been so grateful to hear a stranger's voice. "I need an ambulance! Hurry!"

"Okay… 911..." The disembodied voice carried brokenly through the trees. "…Be back!"

Starsky held Hutch tighter as relief washed though him. "You hear that, Blintz? We're getting you outta here…"

~o0O0o~

The beeping gave it away. It was reflexive by now; steady, monotonous beeping always accompanied waking up in a hospital bed.

The sharp bite of antiseptics filled his nostrils, mixed with the chemical taint of pure oxygen. His muscles were leaden, but his skin relayed perceivable sensations nonetheless. Something was taped to his chest. He tested his limbs and felt more tubing, one traveling the length of his arm and the other the length of his leg.

Great.

"He's waking up."

It was Starsky's voice, coming from somewhere to his left. Hutch rolled his head towards the sound and tried to open his eyes.

Blinding white light made him wince and he groaned against the pain. His eyes were watering and the tears leaked traitorously down his face.

"Hold on Hutch, lemme get the lights." There was movement, then a door opened and Starsky muttered, "He's awake."

"Pulse is good, blood pressure is up," a foreign male voice noted. "Can you hear me, Detective Hutchinson?"

His eye lids went dark as the light was turned off, and instantly the stinging in his eyes was eased. How did he get here? There was a dull pain in his chest and head. Was he shot? Was Starsky alright? He tried opening his eyes once more, and as the twenty blurred images merged into two, Starsky and the doctor smiled.

"Welcome back," Starsky greeted as he moved to Hutch's bedside.

Something pressed into his ear and Hutch flinched. "Temperature is still a little high, but I'd like to remove the ventilator now," the doctor announced as he flipped a switch over Hutch's head.

Ventilator? He didn't recall that being on his list of inventoried medical paraphernalia. But then he heard the whooshing, and felt air being dragged from his lungs before he was done with it, and Hutch started to panic.

"Hey," Starsky said as Hutch swallowed against the tube in his throat. "Calm down, Hutch."

The damn beeping filled his ears as it got louder and faster and he couldn't breathe right and the tube was choking him as he tried to shake it loose-

"…Hutchinson, on the count of three, you have to blow, understand? One… two… three!"

The exhale turned into a coughing fit as the slick plastic traveled up his trachea, under his tonsils and over his tongue. Starsky was pushing him back down onto the mattress. Once his head hit the pillow, exhaustion claimed him once more. Hutch was barely aware of the doctor leaving the room.

"Here," Starsky said and suddenly a straw was pressed to Hutch's lips.

He accepted the water, greedily taking as much as he could before Starsky pulled it away.

"Not too fast," he scolded, but Hutch already knew that.

"What happened?" Hutch asked, running his tongue over his teeth to collect every last drop of the cold water.

"We were in a car crash," Starsky replied. "On our way to the cabin. We went over the side of the mountain and came to a stop a couple thousand feet from the road."

Visions of trees and blue sky and crumpled red metal flashed across his mind's eye. "I've asked that before, haven't I?"

Starsky smiled. "Just once or twice."

"We were run off the road?" he frowned, not sure where the information was coming from. "By kids?"

Starsky looked angry. "We'll probably never find 'em."

Hutch shifted under the starchy hospital sheet. "Might get lucky." Then, suddenly, he looked into Starsky's eyes. "You alright? Your leg-"

"I'm fine," Starsky grinned, but it was forced.

"Starsky…"

"Okay, I *will* be fine. They're gonna wait for the swelling to go down, then I'll have some surgery and be good as knew."

"Surgery?"

"Gotta repair some kind of ligament or tendon or something. I'll be fine."

Hutch huffed. "We'll see about that. You'll be outta work for a while."

"Well after spending two days on a mountain, I'm looking forward to some rest and relaxation."

"Most people would fail to see the humor in that, Starsk."

"There is no humor in that," Starsky retorted. "You had a bad concussion and four of your ribs are broken. You were bleeding into your chest. Your lung collapsed. They almost lost you on the way in here. I think we've earned a *real* vacation, don't you?"

Hutch ignored the question, still trying to comprehend everything. He eyed the IV bag wearily before looking at Starsky. "You never gave up."

"Of course not. I made a promise."

"A promise?" The contents of the bag worried him, but he trusted his partner to stand up for and protect his wishes. Hutch tried to focus on the conversation.

"To Terry."

Everything seemed to click. It was as if the last puzzle piece had fallen into place. "I remember now."

"She really likes you, for some strange reason," Starsky teased.

The doctor returned, holding a syringe in his hand. "I've brought you something to take care of the pain," he said, and held up a finger when Hutch opened his mouth. "It's just an anti-inflammatory, and it will help with the fever. It's very safe for someone in your… condition."

Hutch glanced at Starsky before allowing himself to relax. He supposed he was paranoid. Just because someone approached him with a needle didn't mean he'd wind up in that alley again, broken and embarrassed. But it would take a while to shake the fear, no matter how irrational it was.

The syringe was emptied into the tubing and the doctor stepped back. "Detective Hutchinson will need his rest," he said, hinting not-so-subtlty at Starsky.

Starsky raised a hand. "Yeah, yeah. Just gimme one more minute."

The doctor left and Hutch eyed the bandages on Starsky's cheek, horribly white against his dark hair. "Thanks for not giving up."

Starsky smiled as he folded his arms over the back of the chair as he straddled it. "Merle says there's no way those headlights should have worked. And there's especially no way anyone should have seen them."

"So how did we get here?" Hutch's eyelids were slipping, and his surroundings took on a dream-like quality.

"It was a trucker who found us. He said he was coming home after being on the road for three days. He was tired, and heading into town to find a place for the night. He was starting to drift off, so he turned the radio up loud and when he looked back to the road, there was a woman standing there."

Hutch's eyes grew wide. "A woman?"

"Wearing a sweater with a gray cat on it."

"Really?" Man, whatever he was being pumped with, he loved it. He suddenly realized that the doctor had given more than just an anti-inflamatory, and he felt betrayed.

And loopy.

"He slammed on the brakes and got out, but she was gone. When he went to the side of the road, he saw the Torino's headlights."

Hutch's eyes drifted shut as he grew warm and content. "It was Terry," he stated, in case Starsky hadn't figured it out.

Starsky snorted softly. "Yeah, partner, it was Terry." Hutch felt a hand on his arm. "Get some sleep."

And he did, feeling better than he had in months.

~o0O0o~

By the next morning, Starsky had once again mastered the art of crutches. It was like the proverbial riding a bike; once you learned, you never forgot. He came around the corner, heading down the hall towards Hutch's room, candy bar clutched tightly in one hand and a pack of cards in the other. The steady, alternating rhythm of rubber-padded aluminum and sneaker against polished tile flooring echoed as he moved. When he reached the slightly-ajar door, he stopped, listening to the voices inside.

"So I told the crazy fool, 'you better stop while you're ahead!' and you know what? He keeps right on eating!"

Hutch's soft laughter filled the room and Starsky nudged open the door. Huggy was sitting beside the bed, a big smile on his face, and the laughter seemed to intensify with Starsky's appearance.

"You telling stories about me again?" he asked, making his way to the other side of the bed.

"Only the ones that are true," Huggy replied. The hospital chairs were too small even for Starsky, and seeing Huggy bent into one was a sight to behold.

Starsky leaned the crutches against the wall and sank into the second chair. He tossed the cards onto the bedside tray and leaned back, unwrapping his candy bar.

"Huggy brought me some food," Hutch stated, nodding towards a large paper bag against the wall. "For when I get out."

Starsky fought to keep the smirk from his face. Looks like just when Hutch finally got out from underneath the avalanche of free food, that's exactly where he found himself all over again. "Hey, thanks Huggy!" he grinned, "I'll be sure to taste test it for Hutch. You know, make sure it's to his liking."

Huggy narrowed his eyes. "You keep your paws off Blondie's food," he warned, raising a finger. "At least until you start making payments on your very large tab."

Embarrassed, Starsky changed the subject. "It looks like a jungle in here, Hutch," he noted looking around and carefully avoiding the black man across from him. "Who woulda thought you had so many friends?"

Hutch looked around at the multitude of gift-wrapped house plants and grinned. "Kinda makes being stuck on that mountain worth it, huh?"

Starsky made a face as Huggy rose to his feet. "Uh… yeah… I guess…"

"Well I've gotta get back. You know that saying, 'when the cat's away, the mice will play'? Last time I left for this long, Sally was giving out free beers." Huggy shivered as he headed for the door. "Between my waitresses and you-" he pointed at Starsky- "It's a wonder I ever have enough to pay the bills."

"Just send me a bill!" Starsky called after Huggy said goodbye to Hutch and walked through the door.

When they were alone, Starsky looked at Hutch in companionable silence.

"Cards?" Starsky asked, taking a bite of the candy.

Hutch nodded and Starsky opened the box and began shuffling. "I want to apologize," Hutch said at last.

Starsky snorted. "For what?"

"For being such a handful."

"Hell-o…" Starsky waved a hand, emphasizing Hutch's bruises and bandages. "You're the one with stitches in your head and four broken ribs. I just twisted my knee."

"Okay, well… thank you. I know it was a lot of pressure on you, especially dealing with… Terry."

For the first time since her death, Starsky felt warm at the mention of her name. He owed Hutch more than his partner would ever know. "Don't worry about it," he said, dealing the cards. "I'll let you pay me back."

"How about dinner at my place?" Hutch asked, staring at the brown bag on the floor.

Grease stains were already glistening on the bottom.

Starsky set the stack of cards down and picked up his hand. "Yeah, sounds good. And maybe one of these days, I'll pay the man."

END

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