Title: Daylight Fading

Author: Black_Wingedbird

Rating: R (Language and Violence)

Author’s Notes- Many thanks to my faithful beta, Jenben.

"Here. Drink this."

Starsky set the cold bottle of beer on the table with a firm thump, then took the seat across from his partner. With a weary sigh, he tried to meet Hutch's haunted gaze. "You gonna be okay?"

Hutch nodded stiffly, a motion Starsky was familiar with. Yesterday, the partnered detectives had been assigned a frustrating and difficult kidnapping case. The victim was a nine year old girl. She had been stolen from her bedroom in the middle of the night without any clues as to who had taken her, where they had gone, or why the crime happened in the first place. The parents were understandably frantic and eager to place the blame, but Starsky and Hutch had been the most convenient targets and they bore the brunt of the emotional storms. Initially, the heartbreak and rampant emotions served to spur the detectives into one of the most thorough investigations of their lives. Then, after twenty straight hours of investigating, Starsky began to notice his partner's unusual attachment to the case. The blond was always compassionate about their work, but now Hutch seemed to be bordering on depression. So far, all of their efforts had been in vain. No clues as to the little girl's whereabouts had surfaced and Hutch was growing more distant by the hour.

Starsky was brought back to awareness when Hutch finally raised his gaze and drew in a suffering breath. "Yeah, I'll be alright." His gaze dropped to the open bottle. "Thanks."

Starsky lifted a hand a few inches from the table and flicked his wrist, accepting and dismissing his partner's gratitude. The kidnapping of April Bently was a case that ranked strongly in the top five of Starsky's own personal emotionally-draining cases. When he wasn't assuring the senior Bentlys of his complete attention or Captain Dobey of their nearly non-existent progress, Starsky found himself subtly comforting his partner in an attempt to avoid Hutch's complete breakdown. While Starsky had a professional knack for keeping a strict barrier between work and his personal life, Hutch did not and often succumbed to emotional distress that rivaled that of the people they were trying to assist. Hutch's empathy was a characteristic that Starsky both treasured and cursed.

"How's my favorite dynamic duo?" Huggy asked lyrically as he approached seemingly out of nowhere and threw a companionable arm around Starsky's shoulders. "Enjoying the fine beverages of my top-rated establishment?"

A small smile bent Starsky's lips and he glanced at Hutch. "What's happening Huggy?" Starsky asked when he realized Hutch was remaining silent.

"Well you happen to be looking at the most recent lottery winner, my dark-haired pal," Huggy sing-songed, waving a small, flashy red piece of cardboard between the two detectives.

Starsky's eyes opened a little wider as he turned to face the bartender. "How much did you get?" he asked, and couldn't help noticing Hutch looking somewhat interested too.

"One hundred big ones," came the proud response. "And there'll be more where that came from."

Starsky raised an eyebrow. "What makes you so certain?"

Huggy grabbed the seat across the table and plopped down with a grin. "I have connections," he started as he leaned in closer. "You see, my cousin has the gift of foresight. She can see things in the future," Huggy was whispering now. "She told me about a dream she had with these numbers," he held up the lottery ticket for emphasis, "And the next day- pow! I won!"

Starsky couldn't help but notice the excitement pouring off of the bartender. "Just like that, huh?" he asked, looking to Hutch for the blond's input.

Hutch met his gaze and took a breath, as if chiding a child about tracking mud through the house. "Huggy, there's no such thing."

Starsky knew Hutch would be optimistic and he was not let down. But, he'd rather have a gloomy, outspoken Hutch than a brooding, silent one.

Huggy looked offended. "If my cousin is not psychic, than how do you explain this?" he asked, raising his hand and drawing attention to the ticket.

Hutch rolled his eyes and turned back to his beer bottle. "If psychics can predict lottery numbers, than why aren't they all millionaires?"

There was a fraction of a pause while Huggy seemed to consider the retort, then the bartender rose from his chair. "I don't know. I'll go ask my cousin," he jabbed, then moved off with his usual flourish.

Starsky's attention fell back on Hutch. "You didn't have to burst his bubble like that," he goaded, hoping for a Hutchinson comeback.

Hutch smiled softly into the bottleneck and began picking at the soggy paper label. "You shouldn't encourage him," he replied, glancing quickly at Starsky.

A few pounds was lifted from Starsky's chest and he smiled then slouched in his chair. "I think Huggy encourages himself."

Just when Starsky thought he was making progress, a cloud settled over Hutch once more as the blond swirled the bottle on the table, entranced by the watermarks. "Too bad psychics don't really exist." He stilled the bottle and dropped his voice. "We could use one on this case."

Starsky closed his eyes for a heartbeat, trying to ease the stinging sympathy in his chest. "We'll find her," he said, projecting confidence in his gaze.

Hutch sighed and straightened before gazing around the room. Starsky had a feeling Hutch wasn't really *seeing* anything.

"How can you be so sure?" Hutch replied. The question wasn't sharp or said with malice, it was just... honest.

"Come on Hutch, we're Me and Thee, remember? We'll-"

"Cut the crap Starsky!" Hutch snapped, dropping his hands and facing Starsky head on. "A little girl is missing and there's not a damn thing we can do about it!"

Starsky faltered for a moment, unable to believe the anger that was seeping from his partner. When at last he looked up, he said, "Hey, it's me partner. I'm here to help you, remember?"

Hutch looked into Starsky's eyes for a long moment, then had the good graces to look embarrassed. "You're right," he sighed. "I'm getting too involved in this. I just feel guilty sitting here while that little girl is God knows where..." Hutch trailed off and Starsky remained silent until Hutch looked up and asked, "Forgive me?"

"Of course," Starsky grinned, leaning back in his chair. Hutch was still miles from being 'alright', but this was a good start. "Ready to call it a night?"

Hutch nodded as if he had been waiting for that question all evening. Perhaps he had been.

Starsky and Hutch rose simultaneously and exited the moderately crowded bar. The sunlight was dwindling and draping long shadows over buildings, cars and people. The afternoon heat was retreating with the sun and left the city enjoying cooler temperatures than it had experienced in days. The crisp air nipped at the two detectives, causing shivers to ripple down their exposed arms. Starsky hunched his shoulders against the sudden temperature change and he walked by Hutch's side until they reached their cars. Plans were uncertain when their shift had ended, so each detective had driven his respective car to Huggys'.

"I think I'm gonna call it a night," Hutch said as he reached his car and turned to face Starsky.

Starsky nodded and tried not to look disappointed. "Sure. I gotta... do... some stuff anyway." Yeah, *that* wasn't pathetic. "See you tomorrow?"

One side of Hutch's mouth raised in a signature smile. "Of course, Gordo."

Starsky smiled reflexively and briefly wondered when it *had* become a reflex. He watched as Hutch got in his failing LTD and heaved the door shut after him.

As Starsky headed for his own car, he winced as the cough and squeal of the LTD's motor pierced the evening's calm. Starsky shook his head.

If Hutch's heart could bleed over a kidnapped little girl, Starsky's could bleed over his partner's poor choice in transportation.

~o0O0o~

Hutch watched his partner through the car's dusty windshield. Starsky's shoulders were tensed with irritation, but the rest of his body gave the appearance of a little boy who'd lost his puppy. Hutch's own shoulders slumped in depression. He shouldn't have snapped at his partner. Starsky had always been there for him. Starsky deserved better.

Hutch shifted the car into drive after he heard the obedient purr of the Torino. As bad as he felt for taking his anger out on his partner, Hutch couldn't bring himself to change his mind and keep Starsky company tonight. His spirit was shot and Hutch needed to recharge in peace. An early night sounded wonderful right now. Just a quiet night amongst the plants and a good book. Tomorrow would be a new day and Hutch vowed to make it up to his partner first thing in the morning. Maybe he'd even spring for those doughnuts Starsky always fell for.

The streetlights grew thin as Hutch made his way home. The familiar sounds of a not-dead-yet car enveloped Hutch in a calming trance. He was well aware of Starsky's opinion of the LTD, but to him, the car was peaceful. It was his faithful companion, as Starsky was, and didn't deserve to be condemned to a junk yard because it wasn't flashy like the Torino. To each his own, Hutch had told Starsky before, and the LTD was Hutch's until the motor turned over for the last time. He smiled at the faithfulness of the ugly car.

After a few moments, Hutch's smile fell as his thoughts turned back to the kidnapping case. It troubled him deeply and no matter how hard he pushed, none of his efforts did any good. They were no closer to finding the girl than they were the moment she was stolen from her bedroom. He had experienced this frustration before.

Hutch was brand new on the force; a rookie with too much pride and arrogance. He believed that he alone could save the world. His first *real* case was a kidnapping that occurred in broad daylight when a mother and her child were at the park. The little girl was five years old when she was stolen from the playground by two masked men. Hutch worked hard in attempt to meet the high expectations of his superiors, but it soon became much more personal. The mother was young and heartbroken... and single. The child was all she had left. Hutch searched for the little girl around the clock, even when he wasn't on duty. His fellow detectives frowned upon his fruitless, almost obsessive efforts. The mother sank into depression before his eyes. Three months later, the little girl's body was found in a dumpster.

Three months and one day later, the mother's body was found with a bullet hole in her head and the gun in her limp hand.

Hutch blinked away the wetness in his eyes and turned his attention to the road. April Bently would *not* be found dead in a dumpster if Hutch had anything to do with it. He would not fail again.

Up ahead, a small figure on the side of the road captured Hutch's focus. He squinted, barely making out the pale outline of a small child, a girl, in an oversized shirt.

Hutch's heart nearly stopped as he squinted at the small figure just on the edge of the headlight's beam. What was a child doing outside alone at night? Was she alright? Did she need help?

Then the girl set one foot on the road.

Hutch's eyes grew wide and he felt his heart screech to a halt, echoed by the burning rubber of the LTD's sliding tires. His breath caught in his throat as the car continued in it's momentum, trying in unsuccessful obedience to come to a stop on the pavement.

Unable to stop and closing in on the dark-haired girl way too fast, Hutch jerked the steering wheel to the right. As the vehicle sped past, the child transformed into a lithe deer that bounded away unscathed.

As Hutch looked away from the animal and towards the rapidly approaching guardrail, he realized that he would not be so lucky.

~o0O0o~

Starsky was almost home. He had been driving on autopilot for nearly the whole journey, his thoughts focused solely on his partner. Why was Hutch so worked up over this case? Starsky's own heart ached for the little girl that may never make it home, but, as sad and disgusting as it was, that was life. Not all endings were happy. Starsky was confident that they were doing everything in their power to bring this girl home. In the meantime, there had to be something he could do to help get Hutch's mind off the case for a little while. Starsky realized belatedly that he should have *forced* the blond to come over for pizza and beers.

The Torino purred as he coasted to the end of the street and took a right turn. Starsky was always a little hesitant about forcing Hutch to do anything when the blond was in one of 'those' moods. Hutch guarded himself very well and even Starsky, who knew him so completely, was unsure of how to make Hutch happy again. Stomping his feet and demanding that Hutch just act normally often had unpredictable results. Sometimes, Starsky's temper tantrums worked and Hutch loosened up, but other times the blond shoved Starsky further away.

Starsky sighed to himself. Pizza and beer sounded really good right now.

Starsky shivered as the temperature seemed to drop a few degrees. April Bently's case was wearing all the detectives very thin as the hours grew long and no traces of the little girl were found. Starsky had a bad feeling about the whole thing. Whoever had taken the little girl wanted the *girl*- not money or fame. It was one of the worst kinds of crimes that could be committed, and if he had to guess, Starsky would bet money that the world would be short one little girl by the time this was over. Starsky hit the steering wheel in frustration. There *had* to be a connection somewhere!

The radio mounted to the Torino's dash beeped to life. The call that followed froze Starsky's heart and numbed his body.

"Attention all units, please respond to a automobile accident near Vine and 4th. Vehicle is a 1970 LTD, the victim is detective Hutchinson."

Starsky's jaw opened before his hand was even on the radio. "This is Zebra three, are you sure about that Mildred?" *Please don't be true, please don't be-*

"I'm afraid so Starsky. A bystander saw the whole thing and called it in. Said he found Hutch’s badge after he pulled him out."

Starsky swallowed, although there was no moisture left in his mouth. "I'm on it," was all he could reply as he slammed on the brakes, ignoring the protest from the Torino, and floored it again when the nose of the car was facing the right direction.

It was the call he never wanted to hear. Hutch was in danger and injured. Streetlights and trees and mailboxes all blurred together as the Torino carried him quickly through the streets of Bay City, towards his friend. Starsky set his jaw and fought to keep his heart in his chest as it tried to claw it's way up his throat. Images of Hutch's battered car flashed through his mind quickly and Starsky's foot pushed on the gas peddle a little harder. The Torino did not fight him.

*I'm comin' buddy, hold on...* Starsky glanced in the rearview mirror out of nervous habit. Nothing was behind him. The streets were empty at this time of night, save for the occasional bar-hopper that was turning in for the night. Starsky turned the wheel hard and the tires squealed as the heavy car skidded onto 4th Street. Seconds were bleeding into one another as adrenaline pumped heavily through his veins. He was almost there.

When Starsky did get there, he wished he hadn't. The Torino squealed to a halt and in the following silence, Starsky took in the sight from behind the safety of the windshield. It seemed that even the Torino mourned.

The scene was dimly lit only by the full moon overhead. The LTD was thirty feet from the road, it's bent form framed picture-esquely by a broken guardrail. Hutch's car was wrapped around a large tree and the hissing smoke was still raising into the looming branches overhead. Starsky's breath caught in his throat and he was unable to bring oxygen to his body.

Starsky launched himself from the leather seat and he ran towards the vehicle, staying in the center of the LTD's tell-tale tire tracks. He passed through the broken guardrails and headed straight for the two figures on the ground, some distance away from the wreckage. As he came alongside the LTD, Starsky saw the extent of the damage and almost faltered in his gait. The car's crumpled hood was up, exposing the deformed engine, and the grill was probably permanently imbedded in the tree trunk. The windshield was shattered and the driver's door hung open, revealing the blood and glass that littered the front seat, sparkling in the moonlight. The smell of smoke and pain hung heavy in the crisp night air.

Starsky landed on his knees in the wet grass. "Get away," he breathed, pushing the civilian away from his fallen partner. In a practiced and fluid motion, Starsky sat down and gathered Hutch in his arms, feeling for injuries as he did so. "Hutch..."

"I checked for injuries, I think it's just his head-"

The bystander's voice melded with the other thundering thoughts and emotions in Starsky's head. He was barely aware of the ambulance's distant sirens as they raced through the city. His focus was tunneled to the limp, broken body in his lap and the severity of Hutch's injuries. Blood was running steadily from a deep slice on Hutch's forehead that would probably need stitches and leave a scar. Miraculously, other than some scattered mild cuts and scratches, Hutch's body appeared mostly unharmed. Starsky pressed two trembling fingers to the major artery in Hutch's throat and winced inwardly when he felt the spread of warm, sticky blood under his touch. The sensation sent him further into frenzy.

The pulse was very faint and almost undetectable through Starsky's own tremors, but at last it could be found and proved to Starsky that Hutch's heart was still physically beating. There was minimal relief in the discovery.

"Come on Hutch, hold on buddy." Starsky gathered his partner closer, shifting his weight to settle on the cool grass. There was a lot of blood beneath them, and it stained Starsky's clothing and skin as he attempted to press on the wound and staunch the bleeding. On the street, the ambulance came to a stop beside the still-running Torino. Now two pairs of headlights spotlighted Starsky and his attempts to resuscitate Hutch.

Tears were stinging Starsky's eyes by the time the paramedics crashed to the ground at his side. "It's alright detective, we're here to help him."

Starsky knew that already, but he was still reluctant to hand over his best friend. The pain in his chest seemed to only be eased by the physical contact with Hutch. He needed Hutch, needed him as much as the air he was struggling to get enough of.

A few moments later, Starsky found himself being pried away and this time he sat back and watched the paramedics care for his partner. A cold, empty feeling seeped into his bones as Hutch was settled onto a backboard and strapped to it while a basic pressure bandage was wrapped around his head. Within seconds, he was being carried past the wreckage and towards the ambulance. Starsky was following close behind.

"I'm coming," Starsky said, following Hutch as the paramedics loaded him into the ambulance. There was no question in his voice.

The shorter paramedic only nodded, too preoccupied with stabilizing Hutch to really prevent Starsky from climbing into the ambulance. "Just sit tight. We'll get to the hospital in no time."

Eleven minutes later, the sirens fell silent as the ambulance slid to a stop in front of the hospital. A whirlwind of paramedics, doctors, nurses, and one blond detective swept through the front doors of the ER wing, leaving Starsky scrambling to keep up, monitor Hutch and navigate himself at the same time. The hospital's brightly lit rooms were filled with a haphazard collection of lost and crying families awaiting news of their loved ones. Their pain barely registered with Starsky as his concentration remained locked on his own loved one. Triage was being called out over the hustle and the doctors were already shouting preparation orders to the nurses. As they drew closer to the emergency room, the heavy smell of antiseptics assaulted Starsky's nose and made his eyes water. He was stopped from entering the emergency room by a young man in scrubs.

"Your friend is in good hands now, we just need you to have a seat and we'll let you know what's going on as soon as he's stable, okay?"

Starsky nodded faintly and the doctor was gone before he was fully sitting down.

Just like that then. He never felt more alone.

The world continued to spin around him at a frightening speed. Starsky was utterly ignored as he sat in his own personal turmoil, waiting for news on his best friend. News regarding Hutch's very *life*. His thoughts began to turn dark as Starsky imagined what the doctors were doing his Hutch beyond those closed doors. Head wounds could be much worse than fatal- they could leave people in never-ending, empty comas or life-altering brain damage...

Starsky shuddered. That would *not* happen to his partner. Hutch was too strong for that. Nobody could damage Hutch's life without going through Starsky first. Anger began boiling inside of Starsky until he erupted from the uncomfortable chair and began pacing the tile floor, against the stark wall of the waiting room. Had someone run his partner off the road? Was it some low-life scum that they had shown mercy to in the past? How the hell did his partner wind up unresponsive on a cold metal table?

"Starsky!"

The deep voice belonged to Captain Dobey. Starsky halted his agitated pacing, still seething, and waited for the black man to approach.

"Starsky, what's going on? Is Hutchinson alright?"

"I don't know, they just took him in. He was run off the road and hit a tree head on. The car's wasted, he's been out of it since I got there-"

Dobey moved closer. "Starsky, calm down. Here, I brought you a new shirt," he said, handing the detective a red shirt. "Did anyone see the accident?"

Starsky looked down at his own blood-stained clothing and quickly shrugged off the shirt. A faint memory of the bystander being questioned by a uniformed officer glanced off Starsky's recollection. As he pulled on the new shirt, he said, "There was a guy there, I don't know how much he saw."

"And naturally, you know where he is now."

"The uniforms questioned him. I would know by now if he had anything to do with it."

Dobey sighed and looked more closely at the detective. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," Starsky replied, sounding as if the captain had asked if he drove a red and white striped Torino. "It's my partner you should worry about."

A moment of tense and uncomfortable silence hung between the two men before, as if on cue, the doctor pushed through the doors and quickly tossed his balled-up exam gloves into the trash. Starsky spun and faced the man with a speed that almost had him reaching out to steady himself.

"You came in with Detective Hutchinson, right?" the young doctor asked as he came to a stop. Several other people in the waiting room looked away in disappointment.

"How is he?" Starsky asked quickly. He looked deeply into the doctor's eyes, trying to find a diagnosis in the other man's face.

The doctor shifted his weight into a more relaxed manner. "He'll be fine with time. The worst of his injuries is the head injury. He has a concussion but we can't detect any further brain damage. He-"

"Wait a minute, you can't detect anything? What's that mean?"

The doctor took the interruption in stride and continued with patience. "We'll have to wait until he wakes up and we can talk to him, to make sure there's no amnesia or other brain trauma. Other than a sprained wrist and some pretty impressive bruises, your friend was very lucky."

Starsky snorted softly in agreement. He prayed to God that Hutch's luck never ran out. "Can I see him?"

The doctor nodded and turned sideways. "Sure. As I said, he hasn't woken up yet, so I can't let you stay too long." He motioned for Starsky to follow down the hall.

"I gotta get back," Captain Dobey announced as he turned in the opposite direction. "I had a uniform bring your car and some clothes for Hutch. Give me a call later."

"Sure Cap'n," Starsky tossed over his shoulder. When had the Captain learned to stay one step ahead? Starsky knew that they all had enough practice with as many times as one of them was hurt. He turned his attention back to following the doctor down the hallway. As his steps echoed on the pale tile, Starsky’s thoughts turned inward and towards his partner. Why did malice always seem to find Hutch so easily? What had Hutch done to attract such evil fates? What if this was the time that Hutch woke up and no longer wanted to be a detective- no longer wanted to be Starsky's partner? What if Hutch didn't wake up at all?

"Here he is," the doctor announced, opening a door a crack. "I'll be back in a little while."

Starsky stopped the doctor with a hand on his arm. "Hey, I didn't even get your name."

The doctor smiled and extended his hand. "Doctor Travis."

Starsky shook the doctor's hand and retuned a smile of his own. "Thanks for taking care of my partner, Doctor Travis."

"My pleasure," the doctor returned politely, then Starsky was left standing alone in the doorway.

Starsky stepped into the room slowly, taken aback by the limp figure on the bed. A heart monitor beeped rhythmically from a machine parked in the corner of the room, echoing the valiant beating of Hutch's heart. Next to the bed, a clear bag of fluids dripped within it's tubing and filtered into Hutch's bloodstream. Briefly, Starsky wondered what was being fed to his partner and more importantly, if it was habit-forming. The blood and dirt and glass had been cleaned away from Hutch's face and the blond looked a lot better than he had when Starsky had been holding him not an hour earlier.

With a sigh, Starsky moved to the forlorn chair that was awaiting him. He scooted it closer to the bed, so that his knees were touching the mattress, and bent forward. Starsky rested his elbows on his knees and took a closer look at Hutch. A blinding white bandage covered most of Hutch's forehead and the large, deep bruise that decorated it. The flesh was swollen and looked painful, so Starsky dropped his gaze and checked over the rest of his partner. There was a wrap on Hutch's right wrist. The other wrist was providing an inlet for the IV fluids. Starsky shuddered.

"Well, here we are again buddy," Starsky breathed as he started to reach for Hutch, then stopped himself when he saw the bandages and catheters. Starsky let his hand fall heavily into his lap.

After two beeps of the heart monitor, Starsky leaned closer and set his elbows on the mattress. Tears stung his eyes as he rested his head in his hands and prayed.

~o0O0o~

The steady, mechanical beeping that filled the air slowly penetrated the heavy darkness covering Hutch. He let his breathing be guided by the solid rhythm as his other senses came online. The smell of antiseptics and hospitals filled his nose and Hutch accepted that knowledge without surprise. The sounds of a beeping heart monitor were accompanied by the low hum of on IV pump and someone snoring. Further away, people could be herd bustling down a hallway.

What he could not detect, however, were his clothes. The smooth feeling of clean sheets draped over his bare legs informed Hutch that he was most likely dressed in one of those embarrassing hospital gowns. He should have expected as much.

Hutch swallowed the stale saliva in his mouth and winced as various hurts made their presence known all over his body. His chest and wrists ached and there was a dull pain in his knees and ankles. Most importantly though, was the throbbing in his head. Suddenly the overhead lights were too bright, even though his eyes were still closed. Hutch squeezed them shut tighter and turned his head to the side. The minimal action caused his brain to slosh against his skull and Hutch couldn't stop the pathetic whimper that escaped his lips.

"Hey, you awake?" A voice sounded from somewhere overhead. "Take it easy there buddy, it's okay."

Hutch tried to moisten his sticky mouth to no avail. "Starsk?" he called out, hardly recognizing his own broken voice.

"It's me buddy, just relax. I'll get the doctor."

Hutch felt Starsky's hands on him and he tried to obey. Now that he wasn't staring directly up into the lights, he blinked his eyes open and waited for his vision to clear. Starsky was leaning over him, wearing a solemn expression of concern. The fabric of the burnet's red shirt brushed against his bare arm and made Hutch shiver. "What happened?" he asked, trying again to gather enough saliva to quench his thirst.

A white straw was laid between his lips and Starsky asked, "You don't remember?"

Hutch swallowed reflexively, not remembering the last time water has tasted so good. After feeling the cool liquid slide down his throat and pool in his belly, he pulled away and tried to sit up. "I was going home, wasn't I?"

"Yeah," Starsky confirmed, then stopped as if it pained him too much to continue.

Hutch let his eyes fall shut as he tried to remember. "I was driving… I saw-" Hutch's eyes opened wide. "I saw the girl, April. Well, I thought I saw her," he deflated a little, not really sure *what* he saw. "Something was in the road, I swerved to avoid hitting it…"

Starsky narrowed his eyes. "No one was behind you? No one ran you off the road?"

Hutch's eyebrows dipped in thought. "No. Not that I remember, why?"

Starsky leaned back and looked relieved. "I thought-"

Suddenly a man burst around the doorway and leveled a gun at Starsky's chest. "Thought you could catch me, did ya?" he growled, and even Hutch could detect the trace of insanity in the man's voice. "She's mine now, I found her, I'm keeping her!"

Without any warning, the red-haired gunman braced himself and fired the gun. Hutch flinched in reflex at the sound then quickly recovered and turned to Starsky.

The burnet had caught the bullet in his chest and rich blood was draining through the hole in his flesh. Starsky lay back, slumped in the chair beside Hutch's bed and paralyzed in shock.

"Starsky!" Hutch cried, fumbling in his frantic efforts to get to his partner's side. The gunman was gone now, but the pain and destruction he had left behind filled the room as loudly as the rapidly beeping heart monitor.

Starsky turned his head and locked his blue-eyed gaze on Hutch. "Hey," he wheezed, "at least I'm in a hospital, right?"

The IV pole clattered to the ground as Hutch pulled against the tubing and reached over to hold his partner. "Starsky, stay with me, you're gonna be alright…"

A cold feeling spread on Hutch's arm and he had to look down to recognize Starsky's hand. "I don't think… I'm gonna… be alright…"

Hot tears burned Hutch's eyes and he tried to blink away the sensation. "Listen to me, knucklehead, you're gonna survive this. You have to!"

Starsky was going limp under Hutch's hands. The blood was dripping audibly into a dark pool on the floor under Starsky's chair and his skin was drained of color. "Thanks for… bein' my… partner."

The last word escaped Starsky's lips as a whisper before his lungs deflated for the last time.

"Starsk?" Hutch gave the limp form a shake. "Starsky?" Deep down, Hutch knew it was over. "Starsky! Come on, wake up! Listen to me, Damnit!

"STARSKY!"

~o0O0o~

"Hey, you awake?" A voice sounded from somewhere overhead. "Take it easy there buddy, it's okay."

Hutch swallowed the stale saliva in his mouth and winced as a wave of pain swept over him. His head felt swollen and heavy, like he had gotten very drunk then boxed a few rounds. The steady beeping of a heart monitor and the quiet hum of an IV pump jogged something fuzzy in his memory. It all felt very familiar, but that was understandable given his and Starsky's occupations.

Starsky!

Hutch rolled his head to the side and blinked open his eyes, searching for his partner. He had just seen Starsky take a bullet to the chest, why was he laying in this room? The world spun as Hutch got his arms under him and tried to sit up.

"It's me buddy, just relax. I'll get the doctor."

"Starsk?" The haze slowly cleared from his vision and Hutch focused on his partner. Starsky was leaning over him, his hands on Hutch's arms, and there was not a trace of blood on his red shirt. Hutch stilled his movements. Had it all been a dream? It had all been so real- real enough to give him an odd sense of déjà vu. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

A straw was placed between his lips and Hutch shivered. He pulled back, too upset to drink right now. What was going on here? Everything was eerily familiar, yet strangely detached. He must have been dreaming earlier. Starsky was here, alive and well in front of him, if looking concerned and expectant.

Hutch realized he had been asked a question. "I was going home?"

"Yeah," Starsky nodded curtly, his expression changing to encouragement.

Hutch's gaze dropped as he remembered the events that most likely landed him in the hospital in the first place. "I was driving… I saw-" Hutch's eyes opened wide. "I saw the girl, April. Well, I thought I saw her," he deflated a little, not really sure *what* he saw. "Something was in the road, I swerved to avoid hitting it…"

Starsky narrowed his eyes. "No one was behind you? No one ran you off the road?"

Hutch shivered again and he glanced to the doorway. "No. Not that I remember, why?"

"Are you okay?" Starsky asked.

Hutch blinked as the world seemed to skid to a halt. The trance-like veil he had been under since he awoke had been torn away, leaving the detective feeling as if ice water had been thrown on him. Suddenly there was no more feeling of impending doom or extreme sensation of déjà vu. Hutch could breathe more clearly and deeply, and the sun seemed to be shining through the hospital window a little more brightly. "Uh…" he stammered, not sure if this was something Starsky needed to know about or not. Looking around for distractions, Hutch spotted the IV pump. "What's that?" he asked, jerking his head in the direction of the clear bag above his head.

"It's safe, I made sure of it," Starsky replied quickly. "Now answer my question. Are you okay?"

Hutch let his head fall back against the pillows. "My head hurts."

"That has got to be the understatement of the day, Mr. Hutchinson," Dr. Travis announced as he entered the room.

Hutch jerked in surprise and struggled to sit up. "Who are you?" he asked, realizing belatedly the obviousness of the answer.

"I am Doctor Travis," the man who looked too young to be a doctor replied. He moved closer to Hutch as he readied his stethoscope. "Can you tell me who you are?"

Hutch flinched as he cold metal came to rest on his bare chest. "Of course I know who I am," he replied, the glanced at Starsky and added, "My name is Ken Hutchinson, I live in Venice Place, it is the year 1979, etcetera, etcetera. Did I pass?"

"Impressively so," Travis replied as he hung the stethoscope around his neck. "Aside from your head, how do you feel?"

"Like I ran my car into a tree."

"More specific, I'm afraid."

Hutch sighed. "My arms hurt, my legs hurt. Chest too. I know it's from bracing myself, so you can skip that little speech." Hutch gave a small smile, because he didn't intend to come across harshly. "How long do I have to stay here?"

"Have you had a concussion before?"

"Yes."

"Well then, based on your fluidity, I'd say you can leave in a few hours. Providing, of course, that you follow the rules and rest."

Hutch rolled his eyes. "And I was *so* looking forward to a game of tag football."

"I'll keep him in line, doc," Starsky spoke up. He faked a glare at Hutch but couldn't hold it long. He broke into a smile and said, "Guess that means I'll be crashing at your place for a while, huh partner?"

Visions of a belching, loud, happy-go-lucky Starsky played through Hutch's mind. "On second thought, maybe I'll just stay here overnight."

"I'll tell you now that insurance won't cover it," Dr. Travis replied.

Hutch sat a little straighter. "Take me home, partner."

"Aw, you really do love me," Starsky grinned and nudged Hutch playfully.

Dr. Travis replaced the clipboard in the holder at the foot of the bed and stuck his pen in his pocket. "I'll send in a nurse to go over the instructions for you. Here's some prescriptions," he said, handing Starsky a couple squares of paper. "Start taking those tonight. I want to see you back here in a week, understood?"

Hutch sighed and nodded. The exhaustion was catching up to him as he thanked the doctor.

"Nice meeting you both, detectives," Dr. Travis said as he shook Starsky's hand. "Call me with any problems. I'll see you in one week."

When Starsky and Hutch were alone again, Hutch let his eyes fall shut. The pain was a constant force in his head. He hated to think what he would feel like without the aid of pain medications. Getting home and getting to bed seemed like a really good idea right now. Even with Starsky clipping his toenails in front of the TV.

"Alright partner, let's hit the road."

Hutch looked down at his blue and white hospital gown.

"Oh, right. I'll be right back."

Hutch smiled as Starsky darted out of the door. He hadn't even said anything and Starsky knew exactly what he wanted. It was almost scary how in sync they had become over the years. Before Hutch had known Starsky, he thought only a man and woman could share that kind of intimate relationship. Now he was more mature and experienced, and he realized that sex had nothing to do with deep friendship.

It was only a matter of minutes before Starsky returned with his clothes, and shortly after him appeared the nurse. Starsky had listened intently, but whether it was because he was truly interested or because she happened to be young and blonde, Hutch did not know. He could have recited the directions as well as the nurse. 'Symptoms may include tiredness, poor concentration, irritability, sensitivity to light and sound, headache and dizziness. Create a daily routine and gets plenty of rest. Don't push yourself. Call if the symptoms don't fade.' Hutch rolled his eyes. He and Starsky had enough practice taking care of one another's concussions that by now, they had everything down pat.

Within half an hour, Hutch was sitting in the Torino with his head against the window as Starsky drove them home. The subtle signal cued Starsky to remain quiet, and Hutch was grateful for his partner's understanding. His head still ached, although not as bad as before, and the rest of his body protested any movement. Hutch eyed the prescription bags on the floorboards. That had better be some good stuff.

The road noise and vibration from the car was soothing to Hutch. The sun was just beginning to rise in the east and everything absorbed a pink tint. The highway was fairly capacious and the drive was quick and smooth. His eyelids grew heavy and finally slipped shut, and a dream began playing in his mind.

*The Torino came to a stop at the sign. Hutch was staring out the window while Starsky was singing softly with the radio. A young woman jogged by, continuing down the street as her ponytail swung behind her head and a panting chocolate lab trotted along beside her. Seeing the pair made Hutch yearn to go for a run himself. He had been getting far too lax about exercising lately.*

The Torino hit a bump and Hutch jerked awake, looking to Starsky.

"Sorry bout that," he apologized sheepishly.

Satisfied more imminent danger was not pressing, Hutch let his head rest against the window once more.

*They came to a stop outside Hutch's apartment. One of the neighborhood kids waved quickly as he passed by on a skateboard. Hutch didn't have time to return the gesture before the kid's back was to him. He and Starsky exited the car simultaneously, and Hutch waited on the sidewalk for his partner to round the car and join him.

"You look pathetic. Want me to make you something to eat before you go to sleep?"

Hutch pulled out his key as they walked in the building. "No thanks, I'm good." When he heard Starsky's stomach rumble, he added, "You make something for yourself though."

Hutch moved slowly up the stairs as each change in altitude was dizzying. Starsky was behind him the entire time, ready to break his fall. The gesture was moving and unnerving at the same time. It was Hutch's fault this had happened in the first place. If he had hadn't been so preoccupied with April Bently's case, he would have seen the deer in time. Hutch paused at the top of the stairs just long enough to swallow the bile that was creeping up his throat.

"Just a little more."

Starsky's hand was on his back, gently urging Hutch forward and towards his apartment. The key was taken from his hand and the door was pushed open before him. Starsky stepped aside in a 'tah-dah!' kind of way and Hutch stepped inside.*

"Hey, you still alive over there?"

Hutch winced as his headache made itself known once again. He blinked open his eyes and turned to look at Starsky. "What?"

The burnet smiled. "That's my boy," he said, and Hutch heard the tease in his voice.

"You know, you shouldn't make fun of people when they're sick or injured," he retorted. "Remember who has to take care of you when it's your turn."

"At least I make it easy on ya," Starsky replied. "My place is picked up so nobody trips on guitars or plant pots in the middle of the night…" he emphasized 'nobody' with a finger pointed at his own chest. "You don't have to go to the store to buy me special 'healthy' food. And, my mother sends us little goodies. I don’t see *your* mom sending a loaf of homemade bread."

Hutch rolled his eyes. He knew Starsky was trying to lighten the mood, but this thoughts kept going back to the vision of the little girl in the road. "Any news on April yet?"

"Hutch, you've only been off duty for like…" Starsky glanced at his watch, "Twelve hours."

"So yes or no?"

"No."

Hutch deflated a little and leaned back against the seat, staring out the window. "Why can't we find this guy Starsk? I mean, it's not like you can take a 9 year old girl and just dis-"

The Torino came to a stop at the sign. A young woman jogged by, continuing down the street as her ponytail swung behind her head and a panting chocolate lab trotted along beside her.

Hutch blinked.

"Hutch?"

"Uh," Hutch's mouth hung open in shock. It was happening again.

"You okay?" Starsky sounded more worried now.

Maybe he was seeing things. "I've seen that dog before," he ventured, pointing a finger as the Torino started forward.

"It's a brown dog. You've seen millions of them before."

Good. Well, he wasn't seeing things.

This déjà vu stuff was really starting to creep him out. His dreams were coming true. Maybe he should try to dream about winning the lottery. At least then this would all be worth while.

Hutch rubbed his eyes. Now was not the time to be going crazy. In his mind, he analyzed exactly what was happening. First, he envisioned the young girl who had pretty much become an obsession, causing him to crash his car into a tree. Second, he dreams about Starsky at his bedside then getting brutally murdered. After he woke up, everything except the brutally murdered part came true. Now, he was seeing the pedestrians he had dreamed about merely five minutes ago.

What was happening to him? These weren't *dreams* they were *premonitions*. Hutch didn't *have* premonitions.

They came to a stop outside Hutch's apartment. One of the neighborhood kids waved quickly as he passed by on a skateboard.

Hutch sat still in shock, only belatedly returning the gesture.

Starsky turned off the car's engine and reached for the door handle, prompting Hutch to do the same. He and Starsky exited the car simultaneously, and Hutch waited on the sidewalk for his partner to round the car and join him.

"You look pathetic. Want me to make you something to eat before you go to sleep?"

Hutch looked at Starsky with wide eyes, but the burnet was already ahead of him and opening the door. Hutch moved closer, waiting to hear…

Starsky's stomach gurgled.

Hutch pulled out his key as they walked in the building. "No thanks, I'm good. You make something for yourself though."

Hutch moved slowly up the stairs as each change in altitude was dizzying. He clung to the railing; the feeling of déjà vu was more overpowering than the throbbing in his head. Starsky was behind him the entire time, ready to break his fall. The gesture was moving and unnerving at the same time. By the time they reached the top, Hutch had to swallow the bile that was creeping up his throat.

"Just a little more."

Starsky's hand was on his back, gently urging Hutch forward and towards his apartment. His vision was fading and he was traveling by memory alone. The key was taken from his hand and the door was pushed open before him. Starsky stepped aside in a 'tah-dah!' kind of way.

Hutch fainted.

~o0O0o~

"Come on partner, you're scaring me here. If you don't open your eyes in the next five minutes, I'm dragging you down the stairs and back to the hospital."

Consciousness crept back to Hutch with the speed and grace of a kicked puppy returning to it's master. The fabric underneath him was familiar… he was laying on the couch. Starsky's voice had been close, above him and to the right. The lights were either off or very dim. The TV was on but the volume was turned down very low. Obviously Starsky had been thinking ahead, and for that, Hutch smiled softly.

"Well it's about time."

Hutch blinked open his eyes and found Starsky looking down at him from over the back of the couch. He suddenly remembered why he was lying on the couch in the first place. He had passed out in the hallway, probably from both over-exertion and an overload of déjà vu. Was he dreaming now? Everything *looked* real enough… Hutch moved his gaze over his apartment. Was that pizza he smelled? You couldn't *smell* in your dreams, could you?

"Starsk?" he called out, mostly just to hear his own voice.

The burnet's features softened. "Hey, it's me, I'm right here. You need anything? Still remember your name and all that stuff?"

Hutch closed his eyes. "Yes, I know who I am. I know where I am." He looked up at Starsky. "Starsky, we need to talk."

Starsky looked over his shoulder. "What? I ordered one with cheese only. I know you normally don't eat pizza for breakfast, but-"

Hutch struggled to sit up and accomplished the task with Starsky's help. "No, not that. How long was I out?"

"About half an hour. Got to the top step and just dropped. You're lucky I was there to stop you from rolling down the stairs."

Hutch swallowed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks for that."

"No problem. You sure you're okay?"

Hutch remained silent for a heartbeat and Starsky moved around the couch, sitting at the other end. "What? What is it? Are you hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"No," Hutch said, shaking his head. "I'm fine, really. It's just… I've been having these *dreams*-"

Starsky held up a hand and nodded. "Stop right there, partner. It's okay, we all go through those phases when there's a dry spell. You work late, not much time off, for meeting girls-"

"What? God no! What's wrong with you?"

Starsky's face fell. "Oh. Okay then. Go ahead."

Hutch shook his head, clearing the vision from his mind. "These dreams… they're more like, I don't know… *premonitions*."

Starsky squinted in thought, eyeing Hutch carefully. "Like, 'Seeing-into-the future' kinda premonitions?"

Hutch hesitated, hating to admit believing an anything so… *unexplainable*. "Yeah. Like that."

Starsky's gaze turned inward for a few moments, then he looked back to Hutch. "Wow. That's like- wow."

Hutch snorted. "Yeah."

"So like, what happened? Tell me about it."

Hutch sighed and leaned back against the couch, feeling very tired all of a sudden. "It started in the hospital, when I woke up. I had a dream-" The memory of Starsky's sudden and violent death replayed in his mind and Hutch froze up for a moment. Starsky did *not* need to hear about that. "I dreamt what you would say to me when I woke up, what I would say, what you were wearing… then I woke up and everything happened just like it had in my dream."

"That's weird. Why didn't you tell me, or the doctor?"

Hutch looked at Starsky. "Tell him what, Starsk, that I just saw into the future? I wasn't even sure what had happened."

Starsky nodded then glanced into the kitchen. "What else? You want some pizza?"

Hutch held up a hand in refusal. "It happened again on the way here. In the car." He watched Starsky lift a dripping slice of pizza from the box and toss it on a paper plate, then return to the couch. "The woman jogging, us going up the stairs…"

"So every time you sleep, you see things?" Starsky said through a mouthful of pizza.

Hutch's stomach flip-flopped and he averted his gaze. "So far, yeah." After Starsky swallowed, Hutch met his gaze once more. "You know all about this sorta stuff, what do I do?"

"Me? When did I become the expert on psychics?"

"I'm not psychic, Starsky."

"No? Lemme look up the definition in the dictionary, huh? I'm pretty sure psychics can see the future. And that, my friend, is what you just said you can do."

Starsky and Hutch stared at each other for a moment in silence.

"All right, so suppose I *partially* agree with you," Hutch began and Starsky huffed. "Now what? How do I make it go away?"

"Go away?" Starsky gasped, setting the plate and his pizza crust on the coffee table. "One, you can't just make it *go away*, and two… I think it could be useful."

"Yeah? How."

"How? Think about it! You could tell me the winning lottery numbers, when Dobey will be in a bad mood… when I'll get lucky with the ladies-"

"All the more reason to get rid of it!"

Starsky reached out and laid a hand on his arm. "Hey, calm down. I was just teasin'. Didn't Huggy just tell us that his cousin is a psychic? We'll just so see what she has to say."

Hutch took a deep breath and held it, letting it burn his lungs a little before exhaling slowly. "Okay. But later. I don't really feel like going anywhere just yet."

Starsky patted his arm then let go, standing and grabbing his plate before heading for the kitchen. "Me neither. I still have eight more slices to go."

~o0O0o~

He knew it was a dream, yet he was powerless to do anything about it.

After getting a hot shower and changing into fresh clothes, Hutch found all his energy had gone. He returned to the couch, where Starsky had not moved from while the baseball game was on, and quickly fell asleep despite his efforts to keep his partner company. His last waking moment was spent in the presence of his best friend, on the couch in his apartment.

His head ached. Images flashed through his mind quickly and out of focus, with enough speed to make him nauseous. Hutch was trapped inside his own body, helpless to do anything but watch the fragmented and meaningless pictures flash before his mind's eye. There was a stuffed animal, it was dirty… it looked like a well-loved stuffed rabbit, the kind of toy that has been hugged to a child's chest so many times that the it's middle was flat and devoid of stuffing. Long floppy ears hung on either side of it's head. Was that a splash of blood? It was hard to tell- the fur was so matted with dirt and grime… perhaps it had once been white.

The image turned violent as the toy fell to a concrete floor and was engulfed in flames. Hot orange jumped and flickered, searing then melting the fur until it dripped to the ground in small droplets of whatever stuffed animals were made out of. The hard plastic eyeball grew large and unseeing, reflecting the flames before succumbing to the heat. As the eye fell silently to the concrete, a scream pierced the air.

Hutch flinched, despite the deep-seated knowledge that it was just in his head. The scream was female, it was young, and it was scared. It was the kind of scream that everyone tries to find the source of, because you know that it is a sound of sincere terror.

The darkness took shape then, shifting into walls and floors and blood-stained rope laying limply upon the ground. Empty bullet casings. Blood splatters. Large wooden crates, singed by fire.

The man with red hair- the one who shot and killed Starsky.

The terrified face of April Bently.

~o0O0o~

Hutch woke with a start, nearly rolling of the couch. Reflexively, he reached out, planting one hand in the carpet below him and the other plunging into the plush cushion beneath him. He was sweating and panting and hot and confused-

"Hey, you alright? You awake?"

Starsky appeared next to him and a familiar hand was laid upon his back. Hutch looked up, squinting. Bright sunlight filled the room now- he must have been sleeping for hours. "Starsky?" he questioned, but couldn't hear himself over the pounding in his head. "You're still here?" Okay, so it wasn't the friendliest greeting he could have given…

"Of course I'm still here. I'm not gonna leave you like this. Still remember where you are and all that?"

Hutch gathered all of his energy and rolled onto his back. He threw a hand over his eyes to fend off the offending brightness. "Of course, dummy. Quit acting like I'm gonna have a total brain meltdown."

Starsky crossed his arms and stiffened in a familiar stance of stubbornness. "You're my partner. I can't let anything happen to you. If I lost you, I'd be partnered with some arrogant, hot-shot rookie who might even have a nicer car than me. It would ruin my image."

Hutch peered at his partner with on eye. "Your image."

"Yes. My image."

One corner of Hutch's mouth raised in a lop-sided grin. "Heaven forbid someone should have a nicer car than that striped tomato outside."

Starsky smiled at him a moment longer before sobering. "You have another dream?"

"No."

"You're lying."

Hutch pulled himself upright and held onto the couch as the room spun around him. Almost instantly, a pain pill was placed in his hand. Hutch closed his fist around it and accepted the glass of water that Starsky pressed into his other hand. "Thanks," he mumbled and swallowed it quickly.

Starsky took the half-empty glass and set it on the coffee table. "Now tell me what the dream was about."

Hutch sighed. "I don't know. This one was different… darker. Left me with a bad feeling." A feeling of helplessness, and hopelessness. He ran a hand over his face, trying to rub away the tension. A feeling of dread haunted him, but he couldn't remember why.

"What did you see?"

Starsky was looking at him with wide eyes, as if he knew all the answers of the world. Hutch was glad he didn't.

He closed his eyes, gently pinching the bridge of his nose with his head bowed. Much like the green tinge that remains after staring at the sun, the washed out and distorted images of his dream burned in the darkness of his closed eyelids. There was a stuffed animal, melting as it was consumed in flames. A warehouse of sorts, littered with evidence of someone being held against their will. Bloody rope, bullet casings…

The image of April's haunted face came back to him with such a force that the air was pressed from Hutch's lungs. He gasped and looked up into Starsky's eyes. "April, I saw her," he panted, rising to his feet. "Starsky, we have to go. She's still alive!"

Starsky was on his feet also. "What? You saw April Bentley? Where? How?"

Hutch moved towards the door. "She's in some sort of warehouse. I don't think she has much longer."

"Wait a minute, Hutch," Starsky said, grabbing Hutch's elbow. "Do you have any idea *which* warehouse? I mean, this could be like finding a needle-"

"We have to try!" Hutch snapped, jerking his elbow free from Starsky's hold. When Starsky blinked and shifted backwards a bit, Hutch softened. "Please Starsk trust me. Let's just start driving. Start on the furthest end of town and work our way back. There's no other leads, what have we got to lose?"

Starsky looked into his eyes then, and Hutch saw the questions and concerns the burnet wanted to voice but did not. "All right, we'll go. Lead the way."

Hutch flashed him a smile before opening the door. This sudden need to find the girl was overpowering everything else. It overpowered the pain in his temples, the ache in his joints- hell, probably even his rational thinking, but *it was a chance*. A chance Hutch would *not* give up if there was even the slimmest chance that April might make it back to her parents, alive.

The warming rays of sunshine greeted him as Hutch stepped outside onto the glittering sidewalk, but he did not allow himself the time to revel in the beautiful day. Starsky passed him and jogged around the Torino's nose as Hutch pulled open the car's heavy door. They slid in the car simultaneously, seconds before the Ford rumbled to life. The tires squealed as hot rubber fought for purchase on the blacktop, then they were on their way.

Scenery scrolled by and gradually grew dull and void. They had entered the warehouse district. Large brick buildings loomed over the small red car, crowding and overwhelming the partners. There were so *many* buildings… so many floors *in* each building… how could they ever manage to find one nine year old girl, one that was already hidden so well?

There were no signs of life here. Even the bums found this area too depressing. Trash blew freely down the streets and sidewalks, collecting in corners and at the end of alleyways. Graffiti colored the walls sporadically. Most of the building's windows were knocked out. There was no electricity in the vacant warehouses, because no one had legally occupied them for years.

They were in the middle of a modern-day ghost town.

Starsky glanced at Hutch. "Anything?"

"No."

"Wanna turn around?"

Hutch studied the buildings harder. The Torino purred quietly as they coasted down the two-lane street. To his right stood a building with a simple piece of plywood for a door. The entire building looked ready to collapse should Hutch breathe any heavier. They had driven for about half an hour, cris-crossing their path multiple times just to make sure. Perhaps they were in the wrong part of town. There were two other areas that would be just as suitable for this search. Maybe it was time to move on.

"Hutch?"

They had reached the end of the block. Turning right would start the search over again, and turning left would lead them out.

Suddenly the pain in his skull flared to life. Hutch winced and put up a hand to shield the light from his eyes, at the same time focusing on building to his right. Something flip-flopped and burned within Hutch, bringing his attention back to the warehouse outside his window. It was completely unexplainable, but he knew they had just found the building. April was in there, Hutch was sure of it. He reached for the door handle.

"We're here."

"What? How do you know?"

"I can feel it Starsk, I know she's in there." Hutch had the car door open and had just set both feet on the ground when Starsky's hand caught his elbow.

"Alright, so suppose you're right and April is in there. What about the kidnappers? They're not just gonna let us waltz in there and rescue that little girl. We gotta think this through, Hutch."

Hutch willed his body to settle for a moment. "You gotta plan?"

"We should call it in."

"I'm not waiting."

"I didn't say we would."

Hutch sighed softly and turned back towards the building. "Do it."

Starsky smiled and patted Hutch's shoulder before picking up the radio handset. As he put in the request for back up, Hutch studied the run-down building, absent-mindedly rubbing his left temple. The building stood five stories tall with an old, rusted iron fire escape snaking it's way up the building's side. Nearly all the windows were either cracked or broken and some were replaced with vandalized plywood. The sun glittered upon the broken glass that surrounded the base of the old warehouse. The bricks were cracked and crumbling and the whole place looked like it should have been condemned twice by now.

Three crows exploded out of a top-story window.

Hutch snorted. Make that three times.

Hutch was barely aware of the silence that hung over the Torino until Starsky spoke up. "There's gonna be a couple of uniforms headed this way. If we find anything, we're to report it to Captain Dobey."

"Great," Hutch replied. "Let's go."

Hutch was out of the vehicle before Starsky could open his door. He looked up and down the empty street, assuring himself that they were alone. Satisfied, Hutch made his way across the sidewalk and closer to the building, feeling the weight of his gun bumping against his ribs as he moved. Starsky was behind him quickly and silently, and his presence was reassuring and welcome. Together they moved around the corner of the building and out of plain view. Now in the narrow alleyway between two towering buildings, Hutch suddenly felt very small.

His hands scraped against the rough, sandy brick as Hutch slid against the side of the building. There was a window up ahead, so dirty that the glass was no longer reflective. He would have to get very close in order to see through it. Glass from what was once a window above his head crunched softly under his feet, muted by the old newspapers and debris that littered the alley. Starsky was on his heels and staying very quiet.

Hutch paused before the window and took a breath before crouching low, almost sinking to his knees in order to peer through the window just above the sill. His fingertips landed in crusted bird waste and chipped paint as Hutch tried to steady himself and make out any images through the opaque glass.

"See anything?"

Starsky's low murmur reminded Hutch to breath. He blinked rapidly and squinted, then rubbed on the window with the edge of his sleeve. The window pane creaked with the pressure, but through the small clearing Hutch could just make out the shape of multiple, large wooden shipping crates.

A stab of pain sliced through his brain as the sight before him matched the image he had dreamed. Hutch lost his hold on the window sill and dropped to the ground with a small cry.

"Hey!" Starsky's startled exclamation was just above a whisper as he lunged forward and eased Hutch to the concrete. "You alright? What did you see?"

Hutch shook his head, both in a signal for Starsky to slow down and in an attempt to lessen the pain. He squeezed his eyes shut against the sunlight for a moment until the world slowed and began to spin at it's normal speed again. When he opened his eyes, Starsky was knelt before him and looking at Hutch like a brother instead of a partner.

"I'm okay," Hutch said and locked one elbow underneath him as he fought to get up.

"You're far from okay," Starsky retorted, hoisting Hutch up by the arm and resting him against the building. "We should leave and let someone else handle this."

"It's our case!" Hutch snapped, jerking himself free of Starsky's grip. "I'll be fine."

Starsky's eyes flashed with pain before he riposted, "What is going on? And not with your head- why is this case so important to you? What aren't you telling me here?"

Hutch sighed. Regret clawed in his belly and he knew he would share his story with Starsky soon, but now was not the time. "I'm sorry buddy, I really am. I didn't mean to snap like that." He looked around, making sure they had not been found out. "But this really isn't the best time to go into all that, okay?"

Starsky sat back a little and very obviously in reluctance, nodded curtly. "As soon as this is over, I want an explanation."

"You'll get one Starsk, you'll get one."

Hutch could feel Starsky's eyes on him before he asked, "So what's in there?"

"Nothing. Just some boxes I saw in my dream."

"That's spooky."

Hutch huffed. "Tell me about it."

"What do you wanna do?"

Hutch ran a hand through his sun-warmed hair and looked into Starsky's eyes. "I'm gonna save a little girl's life."

"Me and thee," Starsky smiled, resting a hand on Hutch's knee.

Hutch pulled himself up and turned around, once more peering through the window. This time he was prepared for the pain in his head and was able to remain on his feet as he searched the warehouse's dim interior. The room was expansive and bare support beams made the place look all the more abandoned. Black wires hung from the ceiling and dusty beer bottles lay scattered around the floor in one corner. A puddle of something dark lay ominously just a few feet from the window, as if a sharp-fanged shadow monster would spring from it's depths if anyone came too close. There were no signs of recent activity, but that detail was not enough to deter Hutch.

"We gotta go in. I can't see anything from out here."

"Let's move around back."

Starsky's suggestion sounded from behind him, much like the voice of his own consciousness on his shoulder. He nodded and led Starsky past the window, deeper into the alley. The brick buildings on either side seemed to grow taller, swallowing the detectives as they crept to the end of the warehouse and stopped before the rusted chain link fence that stood before them. Windblown debris had collected here, along with several small boxes and crates. Age had started to peel the chain link away from it's frame, and Hutch easily finished the job. Without a glance backwards, he slid through the narrow opening.

A crow cawed from it's perch high above them. Starsky and Hutch rounded the corner of the warehouse and were now creeping along the building's rear. They were on the border of a small clearing, perhaps big enough to fit two or three cars. Tufts of dandelions sprouted from the cracks in the cement, stubbornly refusing to give way to the shadows and neglect. The air itself was cooler back here, as the small space was totally shaded by the surrounding buildings. As Hutch spotted a window and crept forwards to it, Starsky moved off in another direction.

"Hey, check this out," Starsky called softly, kneeling on the cement.

Hutch changed his path and kneeled beside his partner. "What is that?" he asked, watching as Starsky dipped his fingers into something shiny.

Starsky held up two fingers, dotted with brown liquid. "Oil," he announced. "Fresh car oil."

"Someone's been here."

"Someone might still be here," Starsky added, wiping his fingers on the cement.

Hutch retrieved his gun. The metal had been heated by his body and it felt comfortable in his grip. Starsky mimicked the action.

Using only hand signals and the ability to read each other's minds, they made their way back to the building and stood pressed against the wall. An arm's length away was a window, and a little ways after that was a solid wooden door. Hutch slid forward, gun pointed at the sky, and rolled his shoulders against the brick until he could just see into the window.

Before he was sure what he was even looking at, it vanished.

Hutch jerked backwards. "Something's in there," he announced, not bothering to whisper any more.

Starsky moved forward with a question on his lips, just as the door burst open with a loud crack.

Hutch flinched and half a second later brought his gun out before him.

He was half a second too late.

Three men stood planted before them, each one brandishing their *own*, *bigger* gun and aiming at the detective's chests. The tallest, lithe man in the center had a crazy look in his eye, but it was something else that made Hutch's heart go still.

It was the man's fiery red hair, which stood out in sharp contrast to the bleakness around the five men.

He was looking into the face of Starsky's killer.

"Drop 'em, boys," Red ordered with a cocky grin. The thugs on either side remained silent but menacing.

Hutch's gun fell heavily from his numb fingers. A few seconds later, he heard Starsky's weapon clatter to the ground as well.

"Keep those hands up," Red said, enunciating with an upwards jerk of his gun. The nearly-identical thugs approached and roughly searched the detectives, nearly knocking Hutch off balance. When his badge was confiscated and held up for Red to see, he turned angry eyes to the detectives. "Cops? That's just great. Does anyone know you're here?"

The thugs took a step back and retrained their guns on Starsky and Hutch.

"Well?" Red demanded, taking a step closer.

"No. We came alone."

Red looked at Starsky. "You came alone," he repeated doubtfully.

"Yeah, we just got out to have a look around. We never expected to find anything."

Red studied Starsky a moment longer before turning towards Hutch. "Is he lying to me?"

Hutch shook his head. "Sorry to disappoint you." He forced himself to stop trembling and take a breath. It would be so much easier to think if the pounding in his head would ease, but Hutch was well aware of the fact that he had better things to worry about right now. If they were lucky and this nutcase didn't shoot them right here, they might have a chance of finding April. He had to remain calm and pretend he was wasn't so afraid.

Hutch watched as the slightly shorter of the two thugs retrieved the discarded guns and pocketed them. When the muscle man smiled sadistically at Hutch, the detective turned his gaze back to Red.

"Well I guess this just isn't your lucky day, is it?" Red laughed.

"Where's the little girl," Starsky demanded quickly.

Red faltered for a moment and the motion struck Hutch as very strange. Why else would they be here, if they had not known about the girl? What other crimes was this man wanted for?

"Don't worry, she's in a safe place," Red replied cryptically.

"You better not have touched her," Starsky growled, sounding awful threatening for a man being held at gunpoint.

"I'd be worried about yourself, detective," Red shot back. "I don't take kindly to strangers- to *cops* snooping around my place."

A crow landed silently on the balcony of the adjacent building. Hutch studied Red and disliked the confidence of the man's posture. "So kill us now and get it over with. It's getting hot."

Red laughed. "A sense of humor! And from a cop at the wrong end of a gun no less! Whaddya think about that, boys?"

The thugs chuckled in response, but obviously did not share Red's enthusiasm.

"I ain't gonna kill you boys just yet. I think you'll be coming in handy." Red looked to the thugs and motioned them forward. "Let's talk things over inside, okay?"

Hutch took a step backwards as the thugs approached. He could feel Starsky tense up beside him, silently waiting for a cue that they should fight.

They were outnumbered. Even if they did manage to overcome the armed thugs, that still left Red and his gun, who would probably open fire as soon as they made one wrong move. Hutch stopped and held his ground, giving silent surrender. He would, however, defend himself against being manhandled.

Behind him, Starsky mimicked his actions.

"Good boys," Red praised, seeing that the detectives were allowing themselves to be taken. "But I still don't trust you."

One second later, the closest goon brought the butt of his gun down against the back of Hutch's head.

The world turned silent and black.

~o0O0o~

"This is boring."

"Shouldn't he be awake by now?"

"Gary, you really need to learn how to control yourself."

"How was I suppose to know his head was made of glass?"

Hutch slowly floated to consciousness, and instantly wished he hadn't. "Oh God," he groaned, curling in on himself in an effort to escape the overwhelming pain that radiated in his skull. He tried to lift an arm to cover his eyes but a familiar pressure on his wrists told him that his hands were bound. The gritty floor underneath him was cold, and when he remembered the men outside the warehouse, Hutch tried to lift his torso off the concrete.

"Well, looks like he ain't dead after all."

Hutch squinted and slowly Red's form came into focus before him. The guy was sitting casually on a wooden crate not ten feet away, while the two goons leaned against the wall to his right. The three of them seemed very amused at the pain Hutch could not conceal.

"Hutch, you okay?"

The soft voice of concern prompted Hutch to turn to the left. Starsky was sitting on the floor not too far away, leaning forward with his hands tied in the same manner as Hutch's. Hutch's vision blurred for a moment as the pain in his head crescendoed, and he let himself slide down the wall a little. "Never better," he replied lazily.

"Hey blondie- how many fingers?" laughed the goon who had hit him.

Hutch felt like he was underwater, and the visibility was about the same. It was a rhetorical question though, so he simply waited until the two goons were through elbowing one another.

Red stood up, effectively silencing the other two. "Well, since you boys are gonna be our guests for a little while, we might as well introduce ourselves."

Hutch closed his eyes. Sharing names meant his and Starsky's chances for getting out of this just got a whole lot smaller. Perps don't share names with people they intend to set free.

"Hey, I'm talking here!" Red snapped and kicked Hutch's outstretched foot. "Pay attention! As I was saying, you can call me David. These idiots are Mike and Gary." He was flaunting, and the spark in his eyes made Hutch shiver.

Mike, the one who had blind-sided Hutch, snorted at his introduction.

"Now tell me about you. What are two Bay City detectives doing wandering this side of town? You two really had nothing better to do? Or were you looking for somewhere to make out?"

The last comment earned a short round of laughter from Mike and Gary.

"We were looking for the girl," Starsky said flatly, interrupting. "And we found her."

The conversation seemed to be swirling around Hutch in a dream-like haze. Although the pain had receded minimally, he still felt light-headed and nauseous. He swallowed. He had to pull it together, for Starsky's sake. For April's sake.

"Think you found her, huh?" David snorted. "Look around, detective!" His voice raised with his hand. "You see her anywhere? Cuz I sure as hell don't!"

"Here girly girly," Gary sing-songed, and Hutch thought he'd never seen two people look more like hyenas than these two goons.

"Shut up," David snapped. When Gary fell silent, David turned back to Starsky. "Don't matter anyway. You ain't gonna be alive long enough to help her."

"Come on, man," Starsky tried to reason. "Don't let kidnapping turn in to murder. Give us the girl and you might be breathing fresh air on your ninetieth birthday."

David huffed. "Are you seriously trying to bargain with me, detective?" He moved a little closer and crouched down, folding his arms over his knees. "Look at yourself. You're tied up on the floor of a warehouse in the middle of nowhere, and your partner looks like his head's gonna loll off any second."

Hutch caught Starsky's gaze.

"Face it. You're mine." David stood up again and moved away.

Hutch sat up a little straighter, wincing from the effort. He could feel the unnatural swell of tender flesh on the back of his head as it made contact with the wall behind him. This would be a goose-egg to write home about, if he got the chance. He looked at Starsky with what he hoped was a comforting smile, but the worry remained etched on his partner's face. Neither of them had tried to move closer to the other, expecting a swift punishment if they did. So instead, they sat with their backs to the same wall, side by side on the floor of this dim warehouse and trying to figure out that the next move should be.

David had moved some distance away now, and was quietly conversing with his buddies. Feeling somewhat safe, Hutch turned to look at his partner more closely. Starsky appeared to be all right, with hardly any outward signs of a struggle. It was then that Hutch realized Starsky's feet were tied also, and an experimental tug of his own proved that he was bound the same way.

"So, what's the plan?" Starsky murmured with a hopeful look.

Hutch shook his head slowly. "They've got our weapons, plus their own, we're tied up and they've got April hidden somewhere. The plan is we sit here and wait."

Starsky sighed. "I knew you'd say that. I hate waiting."

"Me too. We've got to find April and get out of here."

"How bad is your head?"

"Intractable."

"What?"

"Excruciating."

"Oh." Starsky paused a minute, looking extremely uncomfortable before asking, "So, did you 'see' anything while you were out? Like, a way out of here or something?"

"No." Hutch looked at their captors when the murmurs fell silent. David was looking at them with something evil stirring in his blue eyes. Hutch shuddered as a flash of pain cut through his head.

"All right boys, we'll let you see the girl," David announced as the three moved closer. "But first, we're gonna have some fun."

Hutch's gaze dropped to the camera in Mike's hand, then rose to settle on the man's evil grin.

"You see, we're sorta wanted for a little more than kidnapping," David began. "If we get sent to jail, we ain't *never* coming out. So, we figured, what better way to fight fire than with fire?"

The three came to a stop only a few feet in front of Starsky and Hutch. Gary cracked his knuckles.

Starsky spoke first. "You're gonna get caught either way."

David snorted and put his hands on his hips. "But this way is *so* much more fun."

Starsky glanced at Hutch, then back to the criminals. "What are you gonna do?"

Hutch admired Starsky and the way he could ask such questions without a hint of fear in his voice.

David's face contorted into a look of giddiness as he explained, "You two are gonna get us safe passage to the border, amigo. Cops will do anything to protect their own."

"Especially when they're *bleeding*," Gary sneered.

David held his hand out to the side and the camera was placed in it. He held it up to focus on the detectives as Gary and Mike crept closer. "Stay away from blondie's head," David muttered as he fumbled with the lens. "I am really not in the mood to deal with a dead body."

A lead pipe appeared from behind Mike's back as he approached Hutch. To his left, Gary held a two by four.

Hutch steeled himself for the blow, turning away slightly with the hopes that not watching might ease the impending pain. He looked over just in time to see Starsky lash out with his bound feet and successfully take Gary's legs out from under him. The large man fell heavily to the concrete with a thud and a curse.

Hutch couldn't stop the proud smile from bending his lips.

"You think that's funny?" Mike growled. "I'll show you funny!"

So swiftly that the metal sung through the air, the pipe came crashing down on the side of Hutch's right knee. There was a flash of light and Hutch forced his eyes shut.

Pain exploded with a sickening crunch, enveloping Hutch's entire being as he recoiled helplessly.

"That was awesome!" David laughed, holding up the camera. "Talk about a money shot!"

"Hutch!" Starsky's voice reached him belatedly, but Hutch could barely see through his tears, let alone formulate any words.

"I'd worry about yourself, hotshot," Gary growled, seconds before the sound of wood colliding with cotton and ribs echoed through the room, which in turn preceded Starsky's cry of pain.

Without missing a beat, Mike swung the pipe again, this time stepping into the swing and landing a solid blow to Hutch's midsection.

Hutch expected to see his lungs burst from his mouth and bounce across the dirty concrete floor. He instantly jack-knifed, doubling over so quickly he lost his equilibrium and tilted to the side. His throat was closed off due to the pain and despite the burn in his chest, Hutch could not draw in a breath. His hands were planted on the floor to prevent his complete descent, and his ribs expanded uselessly, trying to inflate his lungs.

"Jesus Mike, I said don't kill them," David reprimanded, watching Hutch's struggles.

"He looks kinda like a fish outta water, don't he? Gulpin' for air like that…"

Just as the darkness was closing in, Hutch's throat relaxed and he sucked in a small amount of oxygen. He was wheezing horribly and sounded like the victim of an asthma attack, but slowly, his lungs were inflating. He could almost feel his lung walls separate, peeling themselves apart with agonizing laziness. Hutch found himself curled in a ball with his arms wrapped protectively around his throbbing ribs.

Starsky must have recovered from his own blow because he was beginning to struggle again. "Don't touch him," he threatened, and Hutch wished he could see the look on Starsky's face as he said it.

"What are you gonna do about it?"

This time the two-by-four was brought down from overhead, hammering Starsky's toes to the concrete.

The blue Adidas squeaked- or maybe it was Starsky, scuffing the floor as they were pulled backwards and away from the blow. Hutch winced in sympathy.

"Slow down!" David warned. "Give me a warning or something so I can get these pictures!"

"Now!" Gary yelled before his swung the board, connecting with Hutch's elbow.

"Hey, stay with your own cop," Mike fussed, swinging his pipe and catching Gary in the stomach.

"You son of-"

"Idiots!" David yelled, interrupting their bickering. "Just do the job!"

Something clicked softly above Hutch's head, then the scent of cigarette smoke reached his nose. Next thing he knew, Mike's voice was close to his ear.

"How much time do I get for torturing a cop?" he asked quietly, twirling the lit cigarette in his fingers. Hutch watched wordlessly as small specks of ash floated to the ground.

Slowly, as if amazed by his own movements, Mike touched the burning end of the cigarette to Hutch's shoulder.

The thin fabric of his shirt burnt away quickly and hot agony spread through Hutch's nerves. He inhaled sharply and pulled away, only to have Mike follow his movements and press harder.

The cigarette was burning clear to the bone, Hutch was sure of it. The sickening smell of burnt flesh filled the air and his skin actually sizzled for a second or two before blood welled to the surface and smothered the heat. If Hutch had any strength left, he would have kicked at the man as Starsky had earlier.

A giggle erupted from David after another flash of light signaled a picture. "That's a good one! Hell, those cops will probably *fly* us down to Mexico when they get a load of what we're doing!"

"Hey, give me the lighter," Gary said, snatching the small metal device from his friend.

Hutch lay his head on the concrete and tried to melt away. He wanted to do something to help his partner, but he could barely keep his eyes open. His knee throbbed and tingled, his chest felt as if a metal band were squeezing him to death, his fingers were numb and there was a bleeding hole in his shoulder. His stomach was trying to crawl up his throat, and the room was spinning lazily. He was panting from the pain and every breath was torment. So this is what it was to truly be in a world of hurt.

A sudden thrashing gave Hutch the energy he needed to pick his head up. Starsky was rolling around on the floor, collecting dirt and spider webs, his face contorted in pain. It wasn't until he lay still that Hutch noticed the bottom of his shirt was burnt away.

"You bastards," he ground out. Nobody set his partner on fire without some serious repercussions.

"What was that?" Mike chuckled, looking down his nose at Hutch as he stood up. "You gonna do something about it?"

Experimentally, Hutch tugged at his bonds and was surprised by the incredible sting that met him. He glanced down to see his wrists had turned raw and bloody where he had strained against the rough rope.

"Didn't think so," Mike retorted with a kick to Hutch's stomach.

The impact had Hutch curled in the fetal position once again, except this time, he also had a mouthful of blood.

Great.

Hutch spit and swallowed alternatively, trying to empty his mouth as it filled. He was making a slimy, bloody, pathetic mess, but at the moment, he didn't really care.

"Hey guys- knock it off for a second," David said, setting the camera on the crate beside him and jumping down from his perch.

Mike and Gary paused and turned to look at their boss.

"I think I heard something," David murmured, holding up a hand for silence.

Hope flared in Hutch's eyes. Backup had finally arrived.

David must have seen the spark light inside his beaten captives. "Gag them," he ordered. "I don't want them making any noise. Then get out there and check it out."

Gary fished out a couple of handkerchiefs from his back pocket and he handed one to Mike. Hutch's head was pulled forward by his hair as a strong and calloused hand shoved the large ball of twisted fabric in his mouth. Then his support was gone and Hutch dropped limply to the ground.

He was choking. The fabric filled his cheeks and pressed against his tonsils, making every breath a valiant struggle not to vomit. His breathing was ragged and blood continued to drain into his esophagus. Hutch felt the handkerchief grow hot and heavy with the coppery taste.

Hutch opened his eyes wide, trying desperately to work his tongue under the pressure of the gag in order to dispel it. Starsky was watching him with an alarmed look.

"Quit it," David snapped, stepping forward with a patch of silver duck tape. He pressed the tape to Hutch's mouth, securing the gag before returning to his post by the crate.

The silence in the warehouse was deafening except for the heartbeat that thundered in Hutch's ears. He fought weakly, sawing the rope deeper into his skin as he tried to move his hands. His lungs burned as he dragged in short, gasping breaths to stall the nausea that was threatening to overtake him. If he lost it now, he would drown in his own puke.

Suddenly two gunshots sounded from outside. David flinched and held up his own weapon, waiting intently for the survivors to appear.

There was a moment where nobody breathed.

"We got 'em boss!"

Hutch closed his eyes.

David relaxed as Mike and Gary sauntered in the warehouse. "Our buddies must have called for backup after all," Mike announced, setting his weapon on a crate.

"You killed them after I specifically said I did *not* want any dead bodies," David sighed. "Good job, morons."

"Hey, you want us to be tied down with *four* cops?" Mike shot back.

Hutch's vision was turning to nothing. The tickle in his throat made his mouth water and his stomach was already convulsing, rocking his entire body. Liquid heat clogged his throat and filled his stomach. His limbs grew heavy. Not much longer…

"Now, where were we?" Mike knelt down next to Hutch and ripped the tape away, the handkerchief dislodging with it.

A solid stream of bright, slimy blood and froth splashed onto the floor and Mike jumped back, stumbling in his haste. "Holly shit!" he exclaimed, bumping into David. "What the hell happened?"

A chorus of disgusted sounds filled the warehouse as Hutch coughed up even more red sputum and tried to keep his head above the mess. He glanced up to Starsky, who was watching with terrified, sympathetic eyes.

During that brief contact, for the first time ever, Hutch doubted they would make it out of this alive.

~o0O0o~

"Get them outta here," David spat in disgust. "Throw 'em in with the girl and be sure to lock the door after ya."

Hutch's attention was wavering, but mention of the girl tugged him back to the present. He looked up, watching as David turned his back on them and returned to the crate where the camera was sitting. As David picked up the rather expensive camera, Mike and Gary stepped forward.

Hutch found himself being hauled to his feet in one swift, gravity-defying move. Next to him, Starsky ground out, "Go easy on him!"

Mike gripped Hutch by the bicep and pushed him back against the wall as the heavier man bent to slice the rope binding Hutch's feet. Hutch felt the rope snap and soon afterwards, his numb feet began to tingle painfully. He wondered if it were possible to obtain permanent damage from being tied up so tightly.

"Get a move on," Mike said gruffly, grabbing Hutch's injured elbow and giving the detective a firm shove.

Hutch stumbled a bit but caught himself. His right knee refused to bear any weight, leaving him with a horribly unsteady, limping gait. His still-bound hands rose a little to help balance himself and Hutch wondered, how exactly, would he possibly escape even if he weren't tied up?

They were moving deeper into the warehouse. The sunlight was fading as if it were afraid of what lay up ahead. Overhead, the few light bulbs that weren't broken struggled to light the expansive rooms. The stacks of wooden crates grew taller and taller, piled high against the concrete walls and Hutch wondered once again what they might contain. This place smelled of dust and mold and dead *something*, and the smell was only getting stronger as they moved into another room.

Their footsteps echoed on the cold, gritty floor. Hutch shivered and swallowed the small amount of blood that had gathered in his mouth. The bleeding seemed to have slowed, and for that, Hutch was grateful. Whatever damage had been done would have to wait. He could still move his injured arm, which meant that it had not been dislocated. The burn on his shoulder throbbed and stung, demanding attention that it would have to wait to receive. His headache must have sensed that it was no longer the only worrisome injury, for it receded to a more tolerable level.

Hutch risked a glance at Starsky. The burnet was a fighter, always had been and always would be. That familiar look of determination was set in Starsky's face as he limped in the direction his captor prodded. Hutch wondered how many of Starsky's toes had been broken and how badly.

"Alright boys, we're here. Say hello to your new home."

Mike pulled on Hutch's elbow, effectively stopping the detective. Before them stood a large, chain link enclosure. The rusty but in-tact fencing stood a menacing eight feet tall, making Hutch swallow as he tilted his head back to look at the top. There was another panel of chain link covering the top, securing the area completely. The back wall was concrete. Hutch's tired brain did a quick calculation, estimating the total area to be about 20 feet by ten feet. Inside the large pen sat several oil tanks, dusty with neglect. Why would someone need to secure heavy metal drums of oil?

Mike produced a key from his back pocket and used it to unlock a heavy gold padlock that was dangling from the fork latch, then yanked it from the gate. With a jingle and a slow screech, the chain link gate was pulled open, scraping over the floor as it moved outward.

"Get in," Mike ordered, moving aside and fixing a lethal stare at Hutch.

Wordlessly, Hutch obeyed. He returned the cold stare with one of his own as he moved past Mike and into the enclosure, feeling very much like mindless cattle. He stopped just inside the fence and watched as Starsky limped through the gate behind him. There would be no heroic escapes just yet.

As soon as Starsky was over the threshold, Mike slammed the gate shut, rattling the entire enclosure. Hutch blinked as dirt and dead insects rained down on them.

"Don't look so down, boys," Gary laughed from the other side of the fence. "Your little cop friends will have you back before too long, after we're on our way to the border."

Mike reattached the padlock and secured it, then gave it an experimental tug. "Yeah, you don't got *nothing* to worry about."

Hutch felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise. There was something about Mike that set him on edge, something unexplainably evil. He swallowed some more blood and held his tongue.

"You're not gonna get away with this," Starsky said as he hobbled towards the fence. "You let us go now and we might be able to cut you a deal."

"You might not," Gary snorted. "People say all kinda of things when they're knocked around and caged up."

"You're really willing to go down with this guy?" Starsky pushed.

"Family sticks together," Gary replied. He began to turn away. "I suggest you two get comfortable. You're gonna be there awhile."

Hutch watched as the thugs turned and walked away, finally turning a corner and disappearing completely. With a sigh of defeat, he turned towards Starsky.

Starsky turned his head and looked at Hutch as his shoulder's slumped. "Well…" he trailed off.

"Here we are."

Hutch looked around them. Metal bars reinforced the chain link in a grid pattern, and the fencing had been secured to the concrete with heavy bolts and braces. Cobwebs draped delicately over the panel above their heads. The enclosure was positioned in the corner of the large room, although large crates and plumbing obscured the view of their surroundings. Even the dirty windows were too far away to be of any use.

Hutch watched as Starsky gave the chain link a tug. It clattered against itself as if moved, but otherwise remained strong.

Just as he was about to lower himself to the floor, Hutch heard a small sound. A whimper? He reached out and placed a hand on Starsky's arm, stilling the burnet's movements.

There it was again, magnified by the quiet and acoustics of the warehouse. Hutch let his hand fall away as he turned in the direction of the distressed sound.

"April?" he called out gently, partly because his lungs refused to cooperate and expand properly.

Starsky was at his heels, limping quietly as they moved around the large stack of metal drums. Hutch moved slowly in combination of pain and worry for what state they might find the little girl in. He and Starsky of all people knew how evil humans could be. The thought twisted in his gut.

The sniffle gave her away. Hutch moved towards the sound and bent down, catching himself with his tied hands as his knee gave out. April flinched at the sudden movement and withdrew into the small corner she had already pressed herself into.

Her dark brown hair was tangled and lifted in places, indicating the hardships she had already endured. Her face was relatively unmarked and her pale skin contrasted a pair of liquid brown eyes. She was wearing the remnants of a soft pink nightshirt bearing the colorful image of Scooby Doo. Her clothing was torn and filthy, not unlike the rest of her, and her feet were bare and calloused.

It was then that Hutch remembered to smile. A soft grin lit his face as he shifted his weight rather ungracefully, plopping down in front of her. "April?" he asked again, caught between giving the young girl her space and scooping her off the cold floor.

Starsky knelt down beside him. "It's okay sweetie, we're police men. We're not going to hurt you. Can you come out?"

April's eyes were large as she studied the bruised and bleeding men before her. Her knobby knees and elbows were drawn up tightly against her, only partially hiding her small shivers.

Hutch's own pains faded as he noticed the rope burns on the child's wrists and ankles. What kind of men needed to tie up a sixty-pound nine year old girl? What kind of men kidnapped children in the first place?

"April, are you hurt?" Hutch asked softly as he inched closer. The girl tensed but remained mute. "Come on out of there so we can help you," he tried, reaching out towards her slowly.

Wide, wet eyes watched the man before her. Then, as a river breaking through a cracked dam, April's weak resolve crumbled.

In a flurry of brown hair and Scooby Doo, April exploded from her crevice and threw herself against Hutch, knocking him backwards into Starsky. Muffled sobs tore through her bony frame as she pressed her face against Hutch's breast bone. The pain was immense and Hutch stifled a cough, but he only drew the girl tighter, lowering his bound arms over her head and hugging her firmly.

Hutch lowered his chin to rest upon April's warm head as he locked gazes with Starsky. Starsky was concerned, but also vengeful, and a new fire lit within those cobalt eyes.

Hutch closed his eyes briefly, simply feeling the small girl huddled against him, then looked back at Starsky with a new determination growing within his own eyes.

They would rescue this child or die trying.

~o0O0o~

"You lock the gate?" David asked gruffly, not even looking up as Mike and Gary returned.

"Of course," Mike spat.

"You sure it's okay to put them with the kid?" Gary asked, moving to stand across from David.

David stopped winding the film and glared at him. "What are they gonna do? There's no way outta that thing."

Gary shrugged and backed up. "Okay."

Satisfied, David opened the camera back and removed the roll of film. "I'm gonna take this and make sure it gets into the proper hands. You two grab the dead cops and ditch them and the cars. Think you can handle that?"

"Sure," Gary replied as Mike looked rather indignant. "But do we have to trash the Torino? I think she'd fetch a good chunk of change, pretty as she is."

David pocketed the film and thought for a minute. It was a nice car, but also very flashy. It would surely be noticed by someone and raise suspicions. But… "Pull it in back with the others. We'll repaint it and sell it once we move 'em to the border."

Gary grinned. "Sure thing."

David looked at his watch. The truck would arrive later tonight, and loading all the cars would take some time. He really didn't want to stay in this filthy warehouse any longer than necessary. Sunny Mexico was sounding better all the time and he was thankful once again for deciding to move shop. "Alright, move quick. As soon as you're done, get back here and check on the cops, got it?"

"We're gonna off 'em, right?"

"Not until I say!" David snapped, and Gary took another step back. "Just… make sure they don't get any ideas, understand?"

"Sure," Gary replied.

"Great. Now go."

~o0O0o~

Hutch leaned back against the gritty wall and settled April in his lap as best as he could. Starsky was sitting beside him, so closely that their shoulders touched. Their legs were outstretched before them and there bounds hands resting in their respective laps. There was no need to ask how the other was doing; Hutch could sense Starsky was in pain and he knew the concern was reciprocated. Although the knowledge frustrated Hutch, there wasn't a damn thing he could do to ease his friend's pain.

April had fallen asleep shortly after finding comfort in Hutch's embrace. Unable to move out from under her, Starsky helped settle the pair before virtually collapsing himself. The two sat in companionable silence for a while, content on listening to the soft sounds of a child breathing.

The cold concrete numbed the burn on Hutch's shoulder and the steady ache in his head. The minor relief was welcomed, and Hutch relaxed against the wall a little further. Soon the pain in his knee faded as well as the coldness seeped from the floor and into his bones. April's warmth on his chest eased some of the tension there, though the pressure on his lungs made it difficult to draw a full breath.

"Hemoptysis," he murmured as his eyelids drooped. "Hemo means 'blood', ptysis means 'to spit'." Funny how buried knowledge returned in times of need.

"What?" Starsky asked, opening his eyes and turning his head. "You okay?"

Hutch swallowed. "I'm fine. I've got a beautiful girl in my arms and my partner by my side. What more could a guy ask for?" A weak cough rattled his lungs and burned his ribs.

"Freedom," Starsky replied. "That'd be nice. And a couple of girls our own age."

"Can't argue that." Hutch closed his eyes and rested his chin on April's head. Now that his pain had dulled, sleep was pulling hard.

"Hey Hutch?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell me what happened before. Why finding April was so important to you."

Hutch opened his eyes at that and turned towards Starsky's imploring gaze. "It's nothing," he tried, then realized he *had* promised to talk.

"It's something," Starsky argued. "I wanna know."

April stirred but continued sleeping. Hutch lowered his voice as he started quietly, "It was a long time ago. I was just out of the academy on one of my first assignments." He tried to straighten against the wall but a flash of pain in his knee halted his movements. "A five year old girl had been taken by a couple of scum bags, right off the swing set. The mother was talking with her friends on the other side of the playground. She saw it happen but couldn't do anything. She watched as her daughter was tossed into a van before the guys drove away." Hutch tried to draw in a breath and fought the tickle in his throat. "The girl's name was Hope."

Starsky let out a soft sigh and leaned a little more on his partner, letting the contact between them speak.

"Susan was a widow. She had been married less than a year before her husband was killed in a car accident. Hope was all she had left. Her eyes… they were so *lost*." Hutch looked to his friend for the courage to continue. "It became personal. Everyone tried, Starsk, the entire force searched… but there was nothing. Susan's pain was so strong… I wanted to help. I never stopped. For three months, I never stopped looking." Hutch swallowed some warm blood. "Looking for Hope."

Starsky's hands came to rest on Hutch's uninjured knee in a gesture of comfort minimally hampered by the rope.

"For three months they had her," Hutch continued, his gaze losing focus on the intertwining chain before them. "Then they dumped that little girl's beaten body in a dumpster." April stirred again and Hutch realized he was tense. Relaxing marginally, he plowed on. "It devastated Susan. She killed herself three months later. Shot through the skull."

Starsky's suffering sigh said what words could not. "I'm sorry," he said softly, flexing his hand on Hutch's knee. "That's some pretty hard stuff to sort through."

"Yeah," Hutch agreed, blinking away the tears before they could spill. "I had nightmares for a long time after that. Even considered getting out of police work."

"Understandably."

Hutch let his eyes close as a wave of fatigue spread through him. Talking about it would most likely lead to new nightmares, but his eyelids refused to stay open. April's peaceful breathing set the pace for his own heart as he relaxed. He was sinking down into a dark oblivion when Starsky's voice sounded from beside him.

"Hey Hutch?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Hutch smiled, his eyes refusing to open. "Welcome."

~o0O0o~

He was running.

Well, trying to run as best as he could despite a lame leg and swirling vision. Hutch was aware that he was dreaming by the lack of pain from his injuries. Despite that blessed reprieve, his worries went disquieted. A more imminent evil was upon them, spurring him on and driving him deeper into the warehouse.

Hutch ran blindly. Starsky was at his side, and between them, April was trying her best to keep up on sore and bloody feet. They were being chased. There were faces in the darkness behind them, looming like hungry wolves in the night. The faces belonged to their captors- Hutch was aware of them without having to actually see their faces.

He was cold but his lungs burned. The sounds of their own frantic footsteps echoed on the concrete around them. Hutch was using a large metal pipe for support, clinging to the horizontal structure as he limped along beside it. It must lead somewhere, and somewhere was better than here.

It was dark. They were nearly blind but still they fought to escape. He had made an unspoken promise to this little girl, and Hutch intended to keep it.

Then there was fire.

Burning orange flames licked their way up the walls, emitting a heat so strong it tightened your skin. Temporarily blinded by the burst of light, Hutch stumbled and felt Starsky's hand on him, pulling him upwards before Hutch hit the floor. The fire was spreading rapidly, too rapidly, and Hutch was aware once more that he was caught in a dream.

A nightmare.

It surrounded them, closing in and biting at their hands and legs. Still, Hutch felt no pain.

They reached the foot of a metal staircase and did not hesitate before struggling upwards. Each of April's hands were grasped tightly in one of Starsky and Hutchs' and they pulled her upwards as fast as they could climb. She made no complaint as they fought against their own handicaps and scrambled to raise above the flames.

At the top of the stairs, a door appeared before them at the end of the hall, a large dark looming rectangle that whispered promises of freedom. They were racing against an unknown deadline and had no time for second thoughts. The three of them raced for the door.

Starsky reached the door first and grabbed the handle, twisting as he threw his weight against it. They spilled onto a metal balcony and the cold night air stung their fire-warmed skin.

The only way down was by way of a rusty fire escape ladder.

Hutch looked at Starsky as he straightened. His chest was heaving in a way that should have been very painful, and he was grateful for the rapture. Blue eyes locked on blue.

Then something within the warehouse exploded and Hutch's vision ended as abruptly as it started.

~o0O0o~

"Hutch!"

A raised voice filtered through his fogged mind as Hutch jerked, emerging from his disturbing dream. He blinked open his eyes, searching his surroundings even as his vision only slowly came into focus. As usual, Starsky's worried features were the first thing he recognized.

"You okay?" Starsky asked, leaning closer in a way that might be have been considered invasive to someone else.

Hutch tried to gather his awareness. Looking down, he found his lap empty and cold. "Where's April?" he asked, looking up at Starsky once more.

"She's okay, she just sitting over there," Starsky replied with a jerk of his head.

Hutch followed the prompt and to his relief, met April's nervous, tight-lipped grin with one of his own. She was sitting across from them, knees folded up and tucked under her long nightshirt in an obvious attempt to retain body heat.

"Hey, look at me."

Hutch moved his eyes to refocus on Starsky.

"What happened, did you have another dream?"

Hutch nodded, feeling his throat grow tight with residual panic.

Starsky settled himself in between Hutch and April, then lowered his voice. "You stopped breathing."

"What?"

Starsky's gaze was probing now, taking on the concern of a medical professional, or best friend. "You scared me. I could hear you breathing- in and out, in and out- then… nothing. Wanna explain that one?"

Hutch's eyes burned and he remembered to blink. "Hey, I'm fine now, right? I'm alive and well."

"I don't know how 'well' you are…"

"Same to you."

A hint of a smile shone at the corner of Starsky's mouth and he turned away. "Don't do that again, okay?'

It was better if he didn't remind Starsky of the things that were beyond his power to control. "Okay." Hutch looked over Starsky's shoulder to April. "Is she okay?"

"As okay as any of us," Starsky sighed, dragging himself in a semi-circle to lean back against the wall. "We have to get out of here."

The way April was sitting alone bothered Hutch. As far as he was concerned, she had been rescued and would no longer have to be alone ever again. "Hey April, you wanna come over here and sit with us?"

April raised her head from her knees and sniffed.

Those large, wet eyes nearly broke Hutch's heart. He would never be able to have children, not if they could control him so completely with a single look. "Come here, we're not going to hurt you. Tell me about that puppy I saw at your house."

April blinked and seemed to sit a little straighter. "Scooby? You saw him?"

Hutch grinned to hide a muscle spasm in his chest. "I sure did. Cute little guy. What kind of dog is he?"

April was smiling now and she made her way over to the detectives. "He's a Chocolate Lab. He's mine," she added as she settled herself against Hutch's side. "I got to name him."

"That's a good name," Starsky spoke up from Hutch's other side. He was looking at Hutch with something akin to pride.

Hutch looked back to April. "So you like Scooby, huh?" he asked, taking note once more of her nightshirt.

"He's my favorite hero," April beamed. "He's silly."

Hutch couldn't resist. "My partner's a little silly too. Should I start calling him Scooby?"

Starsky snorted as April giggled.

Hutch sighed. They needed to know what they were up against, but talking about April's captors was sure to be distressing for her. He looked down and studied the fraying rope that bound his wrists together as he thought of how to approach the subject. "April…" he began, tearing his gaze from the bloodied rope. "Do you know why the bad guys took you?"

Instantly, she grew tense. "No."

"Have they hurt you?"

"They tied me up. The bad guy with red hair won't let the other bad guys hurt me. He says I'm insurance." The last word was enunciated slowly, as if April didn't quite understand.

So one prayer had been answered today. Hutch let himself relax a little and he felt Starsky do the same.

"April, I need you to think real hard. Have you seen a way out of here?"

Hutch could see the tears forming in April's eyes as she grew confused and frustrated. "No, I don't think… I can't remember."

Time to switch gears. "I haven't even introduced us, have I?" he grinned, raising his voice to drown out her worry.

"You're police men," she stated with a sniff.

"That's right. I'm Hutch and the unusually quiet guy beside me is Starsky."

"You're going to save me?"

"Yes."

"But the bad guys hurt you. And you're tied up."

Hutch had to admit, those details were bound to slow them up. He hated to think what shade of violet his bruises would be now, or to what degree his bones had been damaged. One lung still stubbornly refused to cooperate and allow him enough oxygen.

He looked to Starsky and despite the burnet's attempts to hide them, saw the lines of pain and fatigue running deep in his face. They both needed medical attention, but they would have to fight to get it.

"Don't worry about us," Hutch replied. "We'll get you out of-"

A low rumbling echoed through the warehouse and silenced their conversation.

"Is that thunder?" April asked, following the detective's gazes beyond their chain link enclosure.

"That's my car!" Starsky exclaimed, pushing himself to his feet and hobbling to the fence as quickly as he could. "What are they doing with my car?"

"Relax Starsk, it's probably not even-"

The distinct sound of a motor revving thundered through the building.

Starsky tensed even more and his bound hands grasped the chain link. "That is the sound of a 1975 red and white striped Ford Gran Torino! Hutch, what are they doing with my car?"

"Would you get over here and calm down? There's nothing we can do about it."

The engine died and silence filled the room. Starsky remained at the fence with his back towards Hutch and April. The sound of a car door shutting echoed sharply, then the muted voices of two men could be heard.

"This just got personal," Starsky growled so softly Hutch wasn't positive anything had been said.

The conversation grew louder and soon footsteps could be heard. April burrowed into Hutch's side and he lifted an arm to rest protectively around her bony shoulders. Starsky released the fence and took a step back.

"That's some sweet ride you got there," Gary commented casually as he strode up to the prisoners. "460 CID Engine with 4-barrel carburetor, special paint, California emissions, XPL type automatic transition, anti-theft package…"

"Don't touch my car."

"No sooner than I would destroy a work of fine art." Gary's gaze shifted to Hutch and April, then back to Starsky. "You found the girl, I see. Congratulations, *detectives*."

"You have us, let her go."

Hutch couldn't see Starsky's face, be he was aware of the expression that was on it.

"Not a chance." Gary snapped.

"Why not?"

Gary's grin broadened. "She might come in handy."

"You're disgusting," Starsky retorted, his voice like ice.

"Oh, I'm disgusting am I?"

Hutch looked to Mike, who was holding back and seemingly unimpressed by his partner's taunting.

Gary stepped forward. "What are you gonna do about it, cop?"

Hutch knew that Starsky was glowering now. "Let me outta here and I'll show ya."

Hutch sighed inwardly. 'Way to go, partner. Challenge a dim-witted muscle man while you're tied up and injured.'

If this is what Brooklyn did to people, Hutch never wanted to go there.

Next, Gary pulled a gun from behind him and aimed it at Starsky in a one-armed, locked-elbow stance. "How bout you stay in there and I show you anyway?"

"Hey," Mike snapped, stepping forward and into action. "Put that away. You heard David."

Gary jerked away from Mike with an annoyed look on his face. "Relax, I'm just playing." He turned a feral grin on Starsky, lowering the weapon. "That's the easy way out anyway."

"Come on, let's get out of here," Mike said firmly, grabbing Gary by the elbow before the other man yanked it free. "We got more important things to do."

Mike kept walking as Gary stopped and turned back to the captives. "Don't worry curly, I'll be back for you and Mr. Mom over there."

Starsky had no choice but to remain where he was and try to look menacing. Perhaps it worked, because Gary turned and fled to catch up with his partner. After a moment, Starsky turned around and faced Hutch.

"He better not touch my car."

~o0O0o~

"Okay, read it back to me."

Gary cleared his throat and held up the paper. "If you want to see your friends and the girl alive, leave two cars and one hundred thousand dollars in front of the abandoned warehouse on 912 Temple Street at ten o'clock. Do not follow us or try to stop us or we will kill the hostages."

David nodded. "Good." He walked over to Gary and snatched away the note, looking it over himself. "They have the pictures, so they know we are serious about this. We'll pick up the cars and the money, then get back here to off the cops and the kid. We'll switch the cars out so they won't know what to be looking for. Mike, you'll be driving the truck. We'll all keep in contact by radio once we're on the road."

"You're sure this is gonna work?" Mike questioned from where he was leaning in a dark corner.

"It will work," David replied firmly. "If they think there's a chance of getting those cops back alive, they'll leave us alone. It's how cops are."

"We really have to kill the girl too?" Gary asked.

"Hey," David snapped, whirling to face the shorter goon. "She was all your twisted idea. I'm not hauling her all the way across the border just to satisfy some sick obsession of yours."

"He brought her here, he should be the one to kill her," Mike mumbled from the corner.

There was a moment of silence as David glared at Gary, who was starting to show fear. "We'll see about that," David said quietly, then turned and headed out of the room. "You two stay here. Now that the PD has had some time to sweat, I’m gonna place our 'order'." He paused, then pointed a finger. "Everyone better still be alive by the time I get back here."

Mike and Gary were left alone then, eyeing each other dangerously.

~o0O0o~

Hutch studied Starsky as the burnet dozed restlessly.

April was asleep between them, her knees drawn up and arms wrapped around herself as she pressed against Hutch's side. He had draped one arm over her head and pulled her closer, trying to keep her warm. It wasn't working too well. The sounds of even breathing filled the cage they occupied and Hutch began to wonder how long they had been in here.

Starsky had finally left his post at the fence and limped back to where Hutch was sitting, obviously upset about his car but more concerned for their safety. The torment that shone in Starsky's eyes was unsettling. He had never been one to leave his fate in the hands of others.

Hutch left Starsky alone for a few minutes, knowing the burnet would benefit from a little rest more than venting his anger. They sat in silence until those blue eyes closed and some of the pain left Starsky's face. Hutch felt content at that and settled a little more back against the wall.

Now though, Starsky was beginning to toss and turn, obviously causing himself pain as he aggravated his injuries.

"Hey," Hutch said softly, fighting an itch that grabbed his lungs. "Starsk."

Starsky's brow furrowed but he did not open his eyes.

Hutch sighed lightly, this time giving in to a cough. He swallowed the blood. "Starsky," he called a little louder, wishing he could simply reach over and give his partner a shake.

Starsky turned his head away before blinking his eyes open and falling still. He locked gazes with Hutch. Once recognition lit in his eyes, he spoke. "I was hoping this was just a dream."

Hutch smiled a little. "Not yet."

Every other close encounter had become nothing more than a dream; Hutch had to believe that this one would too.

Starsky looked beyond the fence. "They come back?"

"I think they left," Hutch replied. "I head a car start not too long ago." He caught Starsky's gaze. "Not yours."

Starsky nodded and looked at his rope-bound hands resting in his lap. "How ya holding up?" he asked as he looked back to Hutch.

"Been better," Hutch replied. Maybe it was an understatement, but it was still the truth. The pain in his lungs only became unbearable when he coughed, and his headache seemed to have receded for the moment. His leg ached only dully as long as he kept it still. Even the burn on his shoulder seemed to have faded. Perhaps time really could fix everything.

Hutch let his gaze travel over his partner's beaten body. "How's your foot?"

Starsky shrugged and bounced his leg a little. "I'm afraid to take my shoe off."

Hutch felt a stab of sympathy pain in his chest. "Probably better if you don't. Keep your weight off of it. You don't need to break any bones more than there already are."

"Look who's talking," Starsky mumbled.

"Since when have a couple broken ribs ever stopped me?"

"This time is bad and you know it," Starsky retorted. "What do that call that, a punctured lung? You need to be in a hospital. Instead, we're sitting here helpless with our hands tied. Literally."

"There's got to be a way out," Hutch sighed. "What about next time they come back?"

"What, make a run for it?"

"We don't have many choices."

"What about April?"

Hutch's gaze dropped to study the top of her head. "We'll t