About twenty minutes after getting off duty, Starsky and Hutch strolled into the Pits. "Hey, Huggy," Hutch called cheerfully to the man behind the bar. "Set us up a couple of beers, would ya?" The bartender nodded and pulled out a couple of glasses.

"And remember, you promised *you'd* pay." Starsky remind him, walking over to an empty pool table to set up for a game.

"I don't remember saying that," Hutch told him innocently.

"You *promised*." Starsky said poutingly.

"Tell you what," Hutch bargained. "I'll play you for the privilege," he said, indicating the pool game Starsky was setting up. "Loser pays."

Starsky looked at Hutch doubtfully, anytime they played a game to see who would pay the beers ended up going on their ever growing tab that Huggy usually ended up having to *threaten* them to pay. "You promised, Hutch." looking much like a little kid who had been promised a toy then being told he couldn't have it.

"Well, you'd better be on your game then," he said with a defiant smile.

"Why do I get the feeling that once I win this game I'll *still* be the one paying?"

"Starsky!" Hutch protested with mock affront. "I can't believe you think I would be that underhanded!"

"Well, you did *promise* to pay for the first round." Starsky pointed out, not caring that everyone in the bar was watching their mock argument with great interest, in fact that seemed to be all the more reason to 'play it up'.

"Okay, tell you what... first round is on *me*," he said, pulling a couple crumpled bills out of his pocket and putting them on the bar. "Now, the loser of the game, however, will pay for all the rest of the drinks tonight, as well as whatever we order to eat."

"'Kay." Starsky said cheerfully agreeing and taking the first shot before Hutch had a chance to.

Half-way through their game, Huggy's phone rang. "Starsky!" he called. "It's Captain Dobey wanting to talk to you!"

Starsky frowned. "No cheating, Hutch, I know where each and every ball on that table is..." he tapped his temple. "Got it memorized." he told him and went to answer the phone. "Good evein', Cap'n. What can I do for you on this fine night?"

"I'll tell you what you can do for me, Starsky. You can get Hutchinson and the two of you can get your butts over to the diner on Carrington and Crescent. A body's been found in the freezer."

"Captain, why us, Hutch and me aren't on duty?" Starsky said, practically pouting. "And we have - *had* tomorrow off."

"Because if a positive ID on the body proves it to be who we *think* it is, we're going to need you two on this case. You know that city councilor that went missing a couple days ago?"

"Yeah Richard Mar -- Mararckus." Starsky said. Recalling the case he and Hutch had been working. "We'll be there in twenty minutes." he resigned.

"What's the deal?" Hutch asked, leaning on his pool cue, as Starsky came sauntering back to the table.

"They think they found our missing city councilor."

"Oh," Hutch said, his mood suddenly subdued. "Dead, I suppose."

"Yeah, found in a freezer of a diner on Carrington and Crescent." Starsky told him grabbed him jacket. "So, I guess you'll be the only one *paying* for the beers tonight."

"Yeah, I knew you'd find an excuse to weasel your way out of it," Hutch said, ruffling Starsky's hair as he followed him towards the door.

Starsky sped his bright red Torino towards the diner, the activity was minimal, and the detectives were grateful that the media hadn't found out that it was the missing city councilor (so the place hadn't been turned into a media circus). They flashed their badges at the young uniformed officer who stood at the door and made their way to the back of the diner.

They walked around the open freezer door to look inside. It was one of those big walk-in freezers that restaurants sometimes have. The councilor had sustained a large gunshot wound to the chest and was hanging from a meathook by his jacket. Hutch turned to one of the restaurant employees standing nearby. "He looks like he's frozen solid. How long has he been here?"

"W-we don't know, sir," the young man, dressed in kitchen whites, answered. "When we found him about half an hour ago, it was the first time we'd opened the freezer all day. We use it for storage. We stock up the small freezer by the wall for the day at night before we leave. We only go in there when we need something. Like if we run out or something."

"He looks like he's been here for days." Starsky commented. "The way that gunshot wound looks ... he was also probably alive for a while after he was shot ... froze to death or bled to death." he glanced at Hutch as though expecting his partner to able to answer which it was.

Hutch looked around the ground. "No blood on the floor. I think it's safe to say that wound would have leaked some." He turned to the kitchen kid. "You say you stock up the other freezer at night. Do you do it *every* night?"

The kid nodded, unable to take his eyes off the gruesome sight in the freezer. He'd probably never look at meat the same way again.

"And he wasn't here last night when you locked up."

"No sir," he said emphatically. "I closed last night, I *know* it wasn't. I did the restock myself."

Starsky looked distracted, and motioned slightly to Hutch to leave the freezer. Hutch raised his eyebrows, but followed his partner a short distance away from the other people.

"Something about this ... doesn't seem to add up." Starsky told him.

"Just one thing?" Hutch joked darkly, glancing over his shoulder at the grisly freezer scene.

"The *whole* thing." Starsky said impatiently. "He looks like he's been in there for days, yet he hasn't been there more then a day."

"He could have been... frozen... someplace else," Hutch suggested distastefully. "If he'd been placed there... uh, fresh, then you'd think there'd be at least a *little* bit of blood on the floor. I mean, look at the size of the *hole* in his chest."

"Something about it seems ... I don't know." Starsky said, something was bothering him about the finding, but he couldn't place his finger on it let alone explain it to Hutch. "I just know I don't like this."

"Well, it's not pretty, Starsk," he said, but he was uneasy too. Starsky may not have been the most educated man Hutch ever knew, but he was smart and sharp and his instincts were very good. He glanced back over at the body. "I know what you mean though. There was no motive for the kidnapping. No ransom. A couple days later, the victim turns up dead. Why? We have to find out if he was advocating anything in the City Council that someone might object to, um... deeply and on principle, if you know what I mean."

"We went through all that already. He was one of the most liked men on the city council. He just vanished for a few days and now was found dead." Starsky hesitantly glanced at the freezer only to look away again quickly.

"Well, we must have missed something," Hutch told him. "*Obviously* we've missed something. You don't just shoot someone then hang him on a meathook in a diner for no reason. Even if it had nothing to do with politics, there had to be some kind of *motive*."

"Other then just to kill? Maybe there was no reason maybe someone killed him just for the sake of killing." Starsky argued.

"When we say that someone kills just for the sake of killing, he still has a *reason*. It rarely seems like a very *good* reason, but he always has some kind of reason. And there's always a method behind how he picks his victims too. You know that, Starsk." He lowered his voice. "Now take a deep breath and calm down. You're getting excited."

"I am *not* getting excited." Starsky said defensively.

Hutch put his hand on Starsky's shoulder. "Okay," he said calmly. "Everything's fine." He glanced over his shoulder at the freezer. "The coroner's here. Let's see if there's anything she can tell us that we haven't figured out on our own."

"Yeah." Starsky agreed flatly.

The coroner looked at the two detectives, thinking if she were only a few years younger she wouldn't mind dating either of them, but as it was she was almost old enough to be their mother. "He was killed with a high caliber gun. From the blood clotting around the wound he lived for several hours, without any medical treatment. There is also lacerations around his wrists from where he was restrained from before. There is also a great deal of bruising on his chest as though he were several beaten before he was shot."

"He was tortured to death," Hutch concluded simply.

Starsky paled slightly at Hutch's words, it sounded bad enough to hear the details from the coroner but the way Hutch put it sent shivers down his spine.

"To put it bluntly, yes, detective, I would say he was tortured to death." she said

Hutch sighed and glanced at Starsky. He noticed his partner's palour and, taking him by the arm, thanked the coroner and guided him out of the freezer to the door.

"What?" Starsky questioned once they where outside, sounding agitated. Though was actually more grateful to be out of the building then he wanted his partner to know.

"This is getting curiouser and curiouser, no?" When Starsky gave him a look, he shrugged a bit and said, a little self-consciously, "You looked like you could use some air."

"Yeah." Starsky admitted, walking over to lean against his car. "Something just ... I don't even know what it is about this that has me so…worked up. I mean it's not like none of the missing people we've looked for have turned up dead, hell most times they do."

Hutch shrugged. "If something's got you bugged, you should listen to your gut," he advised.

"It's probably just caused I'm so damn tired. We were suppose to have a day off because of all the overtime we worked this week."

Hutch nodded. "I know what you mean." He gestured towards the car. "C'mon, let's go grab some dinner. My treat."

"Not hungry." Starsky mumbled, pushing himself off the car and climbing in behind the wheel.

"Well would you eat something for me, hmm? Please?" Hutch asked as he slid in beside him. "You haven't eaten since this morning."

"After seeing *that* I lost my appetite." Starsky said, his tone leaving little room for argument, as he started the car.

"Alright, fine. Rejection taken," Hutch conceded. "Where are we going now?"

Starsky replied with one simple word. "Home."

"'Kay."

Starsky drove in silence, never glancing at Hutch even once his eyes fixed on the road ahead of him. Starsky stopped in front of Hutch's apartment, Venice Place, though didn't turn off the engine.

Hutch looked at him. He'd seen that look before. There was no room for argument. "See you tomorrow," he said. "If you feel like talking at some point, give me a call," he told him and got out of the car.

Starsky gave a slight nod, the movement so slight it was barely seeable in the darkness of the night. He wasn't angry at Hutch he just didn't feel like talking, not even to his best friend. Then he sped away without even saying goodbye.

"Thanks for not running over my foot in your rush," Hutch mumbled after his partner sped away and went inside.

Starsky arrived at his apartment a few minutes later. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and paced around his apartment as he drank it. He couldn't shake the image of the dead city councilor from his mind, nor the nagging feeling that there was something not 'kosher' about this case.

Hutch tossed his jacket over the back of the couch, removed his shoulder holster and flopped down on the couch. Something about the case they were working on was getting to his partner in a big way and he wished to hell Starsky would just tell him what was wrong.

Starsky glanced at the phone, debating calling Hutch but deciding against it. He didn't even know what exactly was bothering so there was nothing to talk about. Moving back to the fridge he grabbed another beer, reminding himself that he no longer had tomorrow off so he couldn't (or at least shouldn't) get drunk.

The next morning Hutch was nervously glancing between his clock and his phone. It was 8:30. Starsky usually picked him up around 8:00. After what had happened yesterday, he couldn't possibly have forgotten they had to go in today. He thought about calling. Maybe he had overslept. Or maybe he was already on his way, had had some kind of delay. "To hell with it," he muttered and picked up the phone. He dialed Starsky's number and waited.

After several rings Starsky finally answered his phone, his voice slightly muffled. "Yeah, what?"

"Uh, Starsk? Wakey wakey, huh? We're supposed to go to work, remember?"

"Don't wanna." Starsky said, and unconsciously hung up the phone.

Hutch rolled his eyes, then went downstairs and got in his car. He drove to Starsky's and banged on the door. There was no answer at first. "Starsky, you may as well open the door because I have a key to it anyway!"

"S'open anyway." Starsky mumbled.

Hutch furrowed his brow and tried the handle. The door opened. He walked in. "Did you leave this unlocked all night?" he asked, noticing Starsky sprawled on the couch.

"Uh ... yeah forgot to lock it."

Hutch wandered over to the couch, pushed Starsky's legs off of it to make room for himself and sat down.

"Okay, spill," he said firmly.

"Spill what?" Starsky questioned as though he had no idea what Hutch was talking about.

Hutch leveled a look at him. "Oh, please, Starsky. Who do you think you're fooling? Yourself? 'Cause it's sure as hell not me."

"There is *nothing* to talk about." Starsky said, sitting up, his head throbbing as he did so. "Damn." he muttered under his breath.

"No, I guess not," Hutch said, standing up.

"Oh, and just *what* do *you* want to talk about?" Starsky questioned. "You're the one that wants to talk, so talk."

"Nothing," Hutch said. "Forget it." He looked at his watch. "I'm going to work. You coming?"

"Don't wanna." Starsky said, though stood up anyways. "Make some coffee, I gotta take a shower."

Hutch restrained a satisfied smile until Starsky was in the bathroom, then he went into the kitchen to put coffee on.

Starsky took a hot shower, wanting to stay in until water ran cold, though knowing he didn't have the time.

Fifteen minutes later he walked out to the kitchen, showered, shaved and dressed - though not really ready to start a new day. Hutch was sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper he'd picked up outside Starsky's door and sipping coffee. He made no comment about the length of the shower, or anything else for that matter. Starsky poured himself a cup of coffee, grateful that Hutch had stopped pushing him to talk. He glanced at his blond partner as he drank his coffee, wondering if he should attempt some kinda of small talk just to let Hutch know he wasn't mad at him and the unwillingness to talk wasn't anything personal. Hutch didn't look up from his coffee and newspaper. Noisily, he turned the page and folded it over so he could continue reading.

"Anything interesting?" Starsky asked casually.

"Nah, not really," he said, then acted as though an article had just caught his eye. "Hey, they found the body of that missing city councilor yesterday. Seems police were unwilling to comment."

Starsky turned and threw his unfinished cup of coffee into the sink, hard enough to shatter it, cursing an obscenity under his breath.

Hutch calmly fished a shard of ceramic out of his own coffee cup and took a sip before noisily turning the page of his paper again. Starsky glared at Hutch, he hadn't been angry at him before but sure as hell was now.

Hutch, the picture of innocence, looked up into his partner's icy stare. "What?" he asked.

"What the fuck do you think? Drop the innocent act, buddy." he spoke the word with deep sarcasm.

Hutch neatly folded the newspaper and set it on the counter. "I don't know what to think, Starsk," he said plainly. "You saw a body in a freezer yesterday and went loco. Tell me what to think, because it's sure as hell not like you've never seen a corpse before."

"I *don't* know." Starsky said angrily. "Damn it, Hutch, I don't want to deal with this case." he said, his voice quiet and held no trace of the anger it had only a moment ago.

"Okay," Hutch said. "So we won't. We'll go ask Dobey to give it to somebody else."

"He won't agree to it." Starsky said, leaning back against the counter. "Not like I have any excuse even."

Hutch shrugged. "So I'll take care of it by myself."

"And tell Dobey what exactly. 'Sorry my partner can't work the case because he's been a raving lunatic ever since he saw the dead body'."

"Well, he *has* been," Hutch said with a bit of a smile, "but I didn't really plan on sharing that with Dobey. Just... look busy. Maybe drive sometimes. I'll do the dirty work."

Starsky thought about it for a moment. "I don't want you working this case either."

"Well somebody has to do it," Hutch stated reasonably. "I don't see how we have much choice."

"Let someone else handle it. I don't like this case one bit ... I don't know why I just know I don't want *us* working it."

"So what do we tell Dobey," he asked quietly.

"I don't know." Starsky said. "You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

"No," Hutch answered honestly. "I trust your instincts. Something about all this is clearly bothering you more than these cases usually bother you. I just wish you could explain what it was."

"I wish I could too." Starsky said. Grateful to have a friend that was as understanding as Hutch. Not to mention patient even through his little tirade Hutch had sat there calmly waiting for him to settle down. "It's just ... ya know how things can go real quiet before a storm? That's what this seems like."

Hutch nodded. "So what do you want to do now?"

Starsky shrugged. "I don't know. But I want to stop playing twenty questions."

"'Kay, that's fair. But we're supposed to go to work now, so I think we should at least decide on a course of action, don't you?"

"Could call in sick." Starsky suggested. "After all I do feel sick." he thought.

"Yeah, both of us. He'd never figure out the ruse," Hutch commented.

"It's reasonable enough. It's happened before, we've had the flu at the same time..."

"Starsk," Hutch said, catching his gaze and holding it. "Is that really what you want to do? Hide?"

"I ... I ... damnit, Hutch." Starsky cursed. "I don't want to hide. That's not what this is about. Just let someone else handle this case. I am sick of all these cases we've had lately."

Hutch stood up and put his hands on Starsky's shoulders, giving them a slight squeeze. "I know. Me too. But what else can we do? Hmm? Quit? And do what?" He smiled slightly. "This is the only thing we're good at."

"Hutch ... please, just let someone else work this case ... help find some excuse to tell Dobey." Starsky pleaded, his blue eyes imploring as he looked desperately at his partner.

"Okay," Hutch said. "We'll go to work. I'll talk to Dobey. I'll get us off this case, okay? You don't even have to do anything. Just... put your feet on the desk and drink coffee, okay?"

"Why can't we just call him? I don't want to go in, if we go there there's more chance of being forced to stay on the case." Starsky complained, moving to the fridge in hopes of finding a beer that he might've possibly missed seeing in the fridge last night.

Hutch put his hand on the fridge door so Starsky couldn't open it. "Starsk, I've been compromising my ass off since I got here. I'm trying to help. You could return the favour."

"If you really want to help, you’d stop with all the questions. You don't need to keep reminding me that I don't have the answers."

"I'm not *asking* you any questions, Starsk. I'm asking you to come in to work and face a few of your responsibilities. If we're going to ask Dobey to take us off this case, we can walk in there and face him. We owe him that much."

"You can go by yourself then. You don't need me there."

Hutch looked at Starsky like he'd just been slapped in the face. He didn't say anything for a moment, then managed to stammer "Have it your way," before turning and hurrying for the door.

Starsky opened the fridge and searched the fridge but found there wasn't any beer left the fridge, he slammed the door shut, not sure if he was angry about having no beer left or angry about the fight he just had with Hutch.

Hutch slammed the door as he briskly left Starsky's apartment and stalked over to his car. As he came up to it, he went to open the door, then suddenly he slammed his hand down on the roof. He paused, then banged on the roof 4 or 5 more times as hard as he could. Then he leaned on it and put his head in his hands. He had to think what he was going to tell Dobey. Then it occurred to him that he wasn't going to tell Dobey anything. This case was what was weirding Starsky out to the point of completely uncharacteristic behaviour. The case was the key. He'd work on the case. He got in his car and pulled

away from the curb.

Starsky sat down on the couch and stared blankly at the television, even though it wasn't even on. The phone rang, and Starsky debated not answering it, he thought it was probably Dobey figuring Hutch had already told him some story about why he didn't want to go to work. After the tenth ring it was apparent that whoever was on the other end wasn't about to give up. "Yeah, what?" he answered crossly.

"Morning, Starsky," a low, somewhat muffled voice cooed from the other end of the line. "Not feeling well today?"

"What's it to you?"

"Oh nothing, really. I just wanted to see what you thought of the fresh, not from concentrate corpsicle I left in the freezer for you yesterday. Did you enjoy it?"

Starsky paled slightly, losing his voice for moment. "So, you're the sonvabitch who killed him." Starsky said hoping his voice sounded calmer to the man on the other end then it did to him. "Why don't you just go to the nearest police station and confess, it's not my case after all."

"Oh? That's not what I heard. In fact, I just saw your pal Hutchinson walk into City Hall to check up on my victim. I think he's looking to understand my motives. But he can't possibly understand my motives." He paused, seeming to savour the moment. "You can, though. Maybe when you find the next body you'll begin to put it together."

"Hutch is not on the case." Starsky said, not sure who he was trying to convince of that. "And why would I know your motive?" "or lack thereof.' he added in thought.

"Oh, I've been watching him for the last twenty minutes and I assure you that he is. Maybe it was something you said. He looked pretty upset when he stormed out of your apartment a little while ago."

"I knew I didn't like this case. Damnit, Hutch, I asked you not to work on this case." Starsky thought. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," the voice answered simply. "I just wanted to keep you posted, Sergeant. In the meantime, why don't you keep an eye out for the next installment in my line of frozen entrees: the Copsicle, coming soon to your grocer's freezer section."

A tremor ran though Starsky's body. "Oh, God ... Hutch. He's gonna hurt Hutch." Starsky thought worriedly, he couldn't even find his voice to give any kind of reply.

"Still there, Starsky?" the voice cooed happily.

"Fuck you." Starsky spat.

"Not likely," the hushed voice said flatly.

"If you want to *try* to kill a cop then come *try* to kill me."

"That wouldn't be any fun at all," the voice told him. "This is much more exciting. Though how far it goes *does* depend on you. When you find your colleague congealing among the TV dinners, what are you going to do about it Starsky? Run away?" he taunted.

Every muscle in Starsky's body tensed and he felt as though he was going to be sick as and image of a very dead Hutch in a freezer flashed through his mind. "I will hunt you down and kill you myself if you so much as hurt Hutch."

"You'd have to find me first," the voice told him. "And in order to do *that*, you'd have to figure out who I am. Why do I have the feeling that in that particular area I have more to fear from Hutchinson than you? Oh, right. Because he's out in town investigating and detecting. Well, we'll how long that lasts. Have a good day, Sergeant Starsky," he said pleasantly and hung up.

Swearing loudly Starsky slammed the phone down. He grabbed his keys and ran out the door determined to find Hutch before the madman on the other end did - praying that he wasn't already too late.

Hutch walked out of the City Hall and sauntered over to his car. He was about to get in when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye - his tires were flat. He walked around the car. All *four* of them were flat. He cursed and kicked the closest one.

Starsky sped along the roads, breaking almost every traffic law, while searching for Hutch. Finally he spotted the beat up brown LTD in front of City Hall.

Hutch looked up when he heard Starsky's Torino come skidding to a halt behind his own car. "Hey, Cale Yarborough. Where's the fire?" he asked as Starsky jumped out of his car.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?!" Starsky yelled at Hutch. Seeing that Hutch was okay he could now focus on his anger on the fact that Hutch had gone back on his word to not work the case.

"What?" he asked, clearly truly confused.

"You said you wouldn't work this case. Said you were going to go talk to Dobey." Starsky said, trying to hide the fact his hands were trembling by stuffing them into his pockets.

"That was when you were backing me up. But then I figured: Hey, if you're just going to stare at your walls all day anyway, I might as well get on with it," he explained with a hint of hurt feelings in his voice. "Speaking of which, what brings the recluse into this part of town?"

"Phone call."

Hutch looked confused again. "Who from?" His look turned suspicious. "I didn't tell anyone I was coming here."

"He was watching ... he said ... I thought ... you'd be the next ... next to die. I was afraid I was already too late." Starsky rambled quickly, and almost non-understandably.

Hutch's eyes widened as he digested the fragmented information. He rushed over to Starsky and absently put a hand on his arm as he tried to think of what to say. "He called y... was he... did he sound familiar at all?" Hutch stammered, moving his hand almost unconsciously from Starsky's arm to his hair.

"No ... he ... I don't know who he was, but he knows us." Starsky said quietly. He trembled slightly, but was more relaxed from the simple touch of his best friend, drawing from the comfort Hutch was openly offering.

"He told you where I was?" Hutch asked softly. He didn't want to upset Starsky further.

"He was watching you ... followed you ... after you left my place."

Hutch took a deep breath. This was getting more and more not good. "What else did he tell you, Starsk?" he asked gently.

"He ... he's gonna kill again. Gonna kill a cop ... I thought he meant you."

Hutch nodded. "I guess somebody's not prepared to let us drop this case," he said. "At least you know you didn't get the heebie-jeebies for nothing, huh?" he said a little playfully, trying to lighten the moment a bit.

"I just want to turn tail and run." Starsky admitted quietly. For the first time in his life he just wanted to run away from the problem he was facing, run to not only save himself.. but Hutch as well. The look in his eye seemed to add the unspoken,'and drag you with me.'

Hutch pulled him into a brief hug, not caring who might see them on the street. As they pulled apart, he took Starsky by the arms. "Listen, we have to stop this guy or he's going to keep killing people. Then he's going to tell you that it's all your fault and then you're going to believe him. I say he's dogmeat," Hutch told him.

"He's gonna kill a cop ... gonna be in a freezer again. He said grocery store freezer ... if he was telling the truth."

"I think he's probably telling the truth. He's playing a game. He wants you to find the body. I'd say that probably means he's telling the truth. Let's call in and see if there's anyone besides us who hasn't shown up for duty today."

Starsky nodded slightly, not sure how much more of the phone conversation he wanted to tell Hutch. "He said once I saw the ... he said I'd understand his motives after this next killing. Said you wouldn't, I would..." Starsky gave a small smile though it never reached his eyes. "Since you claim to be the brains here what do you think all this means?"

"Seems to me that he's got a particular hard-on for you. I guess I'm just a friend of a friend, huh? I don't know what makes him think you'll understand his random acts of violence, but I *told* you he had some kind of reason." He reached into Starsky's car and pulled out the radio handset. "Control? This is Zebra-3, over."

"Control here, go ahead, Zebra-3."

"Control, can you find out for us if anyone on the roster hasn't shown up for duty today? Um, apart from Sergeant Starsky and myself, that is," he added.

"Captain Dobey has only been screaming about the two of you not showing up. Nobody else has been reported missing."

"Might be someone that wasn't on duty." Starsky suggested to Hutch.

"Yeah, it *would* be," Hutch muttered before putting the handset to his mouth again. "Thanks, Control. Zebra-3 out."

Starsky sighed in frustration. "What the hell is this bastard's sick game anyways? And why does he seem to think I *should* know?"

"I don't know. Maybe he just likes the way you do guilt and he's trying to play on it."

"And just how many people do you think he's going to kill just to get at me?" Starsky asked, looking intently at his partner. "And what if one of them ends up being you?" he asked himself.

"Well how should *I* know, Starsk? As few as we can make it, I guess."

"Well, you're the one investigating this case. I'm not the least bit of help, now am I?" Starsky questioned crossly.

"What are you talking about? You're our line to the killer. If he wants to call you up and give you clues, then fine. He's digging his own grave. You just remember everything he tells you and we'll figure this thing out."

"I don't want to hear his clues. I don't want to remember everything he says." Starsky said, sounding like a kid who didn't want to go to sleep in the dark bedroom at night.

"Well, considering the available options, what *do* you want to do? Officer?"

"Stuff it, Hutch." Starsky said crossly.

"Alright," Hutch said, holding his hands up in resignation. "Have it your way. You go find a place to sulk, and I'll go solve the case so this psycho doesn't kill too many more innocent people, okay?" he said, though he wasn't really asking for Starsky's approval. He stalked over to his car and bent down to see if the tires were actually damaged.

"If you keep working this case one of those people is going to be *you*."

Hutch spun around. "And if I don't? Then who's it going to be? Hmm? How many lives is my life worth?" he argued, not caring that he had started to raise his voice.

"Worth everything." Starsky said quietly, not looking at Hutch.

Hutch dropped his head forward for a second, rubbing his temples with the thumb and forefinger of one hand. Then he looked up. "Then help me. Help me do something about this guy and get him out of your hair and off the street. If this is all for your benefit, he's not going to stop unless he's caught. You won't be able to hide from that."

"So, if I leave he'll have no reason to stay around. Or, if I ..." Starsky bit his bottom lip, catching himself before he finished the sentence.

"If you what?" Hutch demanded. When he didn't get a response he rushed forward and grabbed Starsky's arms. "If you what?" he growled.

"What difference would one life mean if it meant saving a lot more people ... isn't that what you said?"

"What I said is different. What I said is *risking* one life, not giving it away!!"

"And how is it different? The end justifies the means ... or something like that..."

"Since when?!"

"If he's killing just to get at me ... he'd have no reason to kill."

"No, he'd just have to find a new excuse and when that happened there'd be nobody here to stop him!!" Hutch shouted.

"Like I could even stop him." Starsky said, refusing to look directly at Hutch. "Don't feel good, I just ... I wanna go home, Hutch." he added quietly, looking anything but good he looked quiet pale and sickly looking.

Hutch closed his eyes. "Okay. I'll take you home. Get in the car," he said, pointing to the Torino.

Starsky nodded slightly and slid in through the passenger side door. He sat leaning against the door his head resting against the window, waiting for Hutch. Hutch got into the driver's seat and started the car. He drove to Starsky's apartment in silence, not feeling there was anything to be said. No argument had done him any good. Starsky wasn't listening. You couldn't argue with someone who wasn't listening to a damn thing you said. Starsky felt like shutting out the whole world, and that included Hutch. He was getting a little more than annoyed by Hutch's persistence. Hating the fact that Hutch wouldn't listen to him to just ‘drop’ the case. Starsky couldn't shake the image that the caller had implanted into his mind - Hutch dead in a freezer, tortured to death. The very thought made his stomach roll miserably and he would've been sick if there had been anything in his stomach for him to throwup.

Hutch pulled to a stop outside Starsky's building and helped him up the stairs into the apartment. "Want me to get you anything?" he asked, the first time he'd spoke since they'd gotten in the car.

"Need some more beer." Starsky replied in a mumble, though he doubted Hutch actually would comply to that request anymore then he was listening about the case.

"How about coffee?" he asked, taking out the necessary items.

"No." Starsky replied shortly.

"Suit yourself," Hutch said. "See you later. I'll come check up on you before I go home tonight."

"If your not dead." Starsky said, quietly and sadly.

"Good point," Hutch said almost sarcastically as he walked out the door. It slammed behind him.

The sound of the slamming door broke the last thread that Starsky had been holding onto to keep from falling. His whole body started to tremble, and silent tears streamed down his cheeks. He feared that Hutch was going to be killed and hated himself for not being able to protect his partner. He barely heard the phone ringing, finally the ringing reached him and he moved slowly to answer the phone, dreading who would be on the other end. "Hello?"

"You certainly have a way with people today," the voice on the line purred. "You and your partner having a little tiff, are you?"

"Shut up ... just shut the fuck up." Starsky said, though instead of sounding cross he sounded defeated.

The voice chuckled. "Oh dear, dear. Perhaps I should have caught you at a better time. I didn't think I'd beat you so easily. It takes a lot of the fun away, y'know?"

"No, I don't know. I don't know what the hell your problem is, besides the fact the fact you're fucked in the head." Starsky said with a slight growl.

Now the voice laughed outright. "You should know," he said. "You made me."

"I don't even know you, buddy, and I sure as hell didn't make you."

"Oh? You think so? Well, enough about that anyway. What's done is done. I'd rather talk about what *isn't* done yet."

"And just what isn't done yet?" Starsky asked with mild annoyance, his mood switch from depression to anger in almost the blink of an eye.

"Well, lots of things, Sergeant. I have plenty of work to do in the days ahead, let me tell you." He paused as though something had just occurred to him. "Say, where do you suppose Sergeant Hutchinson went after he left your apartment? He stormed out the door and hailed a cab. Not looking one bit the happy camper, either, I might add. What did you *say* to him?"

"Just leave Hutch out of this."

"*I* suspect he went back to his temporarily disabled car," the voice continued, ignoring him. "What do you suppose four new tires will run him? Do you know someone who can give him a deal?"

"I don't give a flying fuck what 4 tires cost." Starsky said. "If you want to play with me come and play ya demented freak."

"Killing you would be too easy, Starsky. Especially if you're going to go around leaving your door unlocked all night."

"SHIT!" Starsky swore more to himself then to the voice on the other end of the line, recalling how Hutch had just reprimanded him about that this morning.

"To say the least," the voice replied dryly. "Really, Detective, I would expect a policeman to know better. Anyway, I have to let you go now. I don't want to lose track of Hutchinson." He hung up before Starsky could respond.

Starsky swore loudly and threw the phone across the room. He moved over towards the couch. However he never made it as far as the couch before he dropped limply to the floor, just a few feet from the couch, feeling as though his 'falling' had just ended by his body being impaled on the sharp rocks below. He berated himself for not being able to do anything right. His body was exhausted, he had no real sleep last night and having worked so many hours lately, with little sleep the lack of sleep was taking it's toll on him. However, his mind refused to let him sleep. His stomach demanded food but he ignored all he wanted was more to drink and there was nothing left in the house. The weight of all sat like a crushing weight on his chest. He curled up into an almost fetal position on the floor and broke down in tears.

Hutch didn't find any more leads that day, though he'd managed to get his car fixed. No report of a missing cop came in. Maybe it was someone with no family. He or she could turn up dead before they were missed. He pulled up in front of Starsky's and went up to check on him as promised. When he walked in to the apartment, he found his partner curled up on the floor sleeping fitfully. He knelt beside him and laid his hand against the side of his face. "Starsk?" he said softly.

Starsky bolted straight up the second Hutch's hand brushed against his face, his eyes wide with panic, his hand fumbling for his gun.

"Starsk, Starsk," he said soothingly, stroking his hair. "It's just me."

Starsky relaxed though only slightly, his eyes were still wide and it seemed to take him several moments before he finally accepted that it was Hutch.

"What is it?" Hutch asked gently. "What now? Did he call again?"

"He didn't give any clues about who or when he was gonna kill again, so what do you care?"

"What do I care? What kind of a question is that?" Hutch asked, hurt. He pulled away from Starsky and sat on the couch.

"Exactly." Starsky mumbled not even casting the slightest glance in Hutch's direction.

"Exactly what, Starsk? That doesn't make any sense," Hutch said, clearly becoming irritated again.

"Nothing makes sense." Starsky muttered, his left hand straying towards his gun once again, then seeming to quickly pull away as he felt Hutch's eyes on him.

"No, nothing does. For example, you *claim* that your big fear is for my life, but then you push me away at every opportunity. Why don't you tell me why *you* care what *I* do? Because you sure as hell aren't trying to help me at all."

"Because ... you're all I got. I don't want too ... I can't lose you, Hutch. He seems to *know* that ... and he's going to take you away ... or now ... you'll just leave ..."

Hutch practically leapt out his seat and grabbed Starsky's gun. He knelt close to him and held it up in front of his face. "Who's leaving who?" he accused. "Because I'm not going anywhere! Partner."

Starsky trembled slightly, biting his bottom lip as he tried to surpress a sob, still a slightly choked sob could be heard clearly by Hutch. He hung his head, closing his eyes tightly against the tears that threatened to fall, not wanting to break down crying, again, in front of Hutch. Hutch put the gun down on the floor beside him and pulled Starsky into his arms and just held him tightly for several moments. Starsky rested his head against Hutch's shoulder, gripping the front of Hutch's jacket, in almost a death grip. And despite his efforts to not cry the tears where soon flowing free.

Hutch had one arm around Starsky's back with a gentle, comforting squeeze while the other stroked his hair. "Let it go," he murmured. "You'll feel better, let it go."

"I can't ... I can't handle this ... too tired ... too ... I don't know, Hutch. I just don't know." Starsky whispered, his voice muffled against Hutch.

Hutch slid over to lean against the couch and sat down, leaning Starsky against his shoulder. He kept his hand in Starsky's hair as he whispered "Just rest. Try and get some rest."

"Can't." Starsky said almost sadly. "I just keep seeing ... keep seeing you dead ... just like he said about."

"Shhhhh," Hutch said gently, still stroking his hair. "If he thinks he's going to hang me in a freezer, he'd better be as tough as he thinks he's clever. I don't go down as easily as a city councilor, you know," he assured the other detective, leaning his cheek on the top of Starsky's head.

"That's not exactly the way he said it." Starsky mumbled. "Knowing that don't take away the fear." He added even softer.

"I know," Hutch answered just as softly.

"He said I *made* him ... who do you think it is?" Starsky asked, his voice sounding increasingly tired.

"I don't know," Hutch said. "Could be anyone you ever arrested. Don't worry about it right now, just try to relax a little bit. Rest."

"Just ... don't leave again, please?" Starsky asked, almost pleadingly.

"I told you I wasn't going anywhere. Just close your eyes and try to rest," he told him.

Starsky reply was too muffled to be made out clearly as his exhausted body and mind finally gave into sleep, giving in only because he felt safe enough to do in the comforting, protecting arms of his best friend.

Once Starsky's breathing became slow and even, Hutch leaned his head back against the couch, feeling a little worn around the edges himself. He noticed Starsky's gun lying where he'd set it, and he reached slightly, trying to avoid jarring Starsky too much, and picked it up. He gripped it tightly in his right hand, his left arm still around Starsky's shoulders, his hand resting in his partner's tousled curls.

Starsky slept for maybe fifteen minutes, before he started to twitch in his sleep, his eyes moving quickly behind the closed lids. He was making a soft almost keening sound as a nightmare led him tight in it's grasp. Hutch looked at Starsky in concern, but didn't wake him. He would wake on his own. If Hutch woke him up prematurely, he might only lash out at him, thinking it part of the illusion. His grip on Starsky tightened a little unconsciously though.

Starsky twisted slightly against Hutch hold, the soft sounds he had been making turned to cry. "No ... Hutch ... HUUUUTCH!" Starsky screamed, snapping himself awake.

"Starsk?" Hutch asked softly. "Are you okay?"

Starsky looked at Hutch a couple moments and blinked as he tried to clear the remaining fragments of the dream from his vision, and for a brief moment saw this Hutch in the same way he had the dream Hutch. His face paled, and his eyes widened, then he seemed to relax, shaking his head 'no' in response.

Hutch gently guided Starsky's head back onto his shoulder and held his hand against his face for a moment. "Okay," he said, accepting that. "It's okay."

"No, it's not."

"It will be," Hutch promised.

"How? How will it ever be okay again?"

"We're going to find this son of a bitch and nail him to the wall, Starsk. That's how. He's going to rot in prison and he's going to take all his mindgames and nightmares with him."

"By we you mean you ... don't you?" Starsky asked quietly. "I'm no good to you as a partner ..."

"I mean we, Starsk. It's me and thee. That hasn't changed. That never changes. And I'll be damned if I'm going to let it be changed by some punk-ass two-bit psycho."

"I just don't think I can handle this ... nor handle you working on this case ... especially alone."

"Then don't let me work on it alone. You have to understand, Starsk - I *have* to do this now. Now it's personal. Nobody messes with my partner and gets away with not answering to me."

"Ya know, he can't be too smart, if he was that alone would be enough to scare him away ... must've never seen you angry, that's enough to scare anyone away." Starsky said trying to ease his tension and fears by joking.

Hutch smiled. "That's the spirit," he said. "Now will you drink some coffee?"

"Being as you asked so nicely ... I will."

Hutch's smile broadened and he untangled himself from Starsky to get up and make the coffee.

"Hey, Hutch?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For everything, ya know?"

Hutch nodded. "I know. Don't mention it."

"He knew the door wasn't locked last night."

Hutch froze for a moment and turned around slowly. "He seems to know an awful lot, doesn't he? He gets around."

"Yeah. Seems to know everything." Starsky paused for a moment. "Do you think he was in here last night?" he asked, shivering at the thought.

"I don't know," Hutch said. He looked at the clock on the wall. It was 2 in the morning. "Tell you what - grab a few things and come stay with me for a bit."

"Good idea." Starsky said, slowly clambering to his feet.

Hutch left the coffeepot on the counter. They could have coffee at his place. He followed Starsky into the bedroom to help him throw some things in a bag.

A while later they were at Venice Place, and Starsky felt far more relaxed, and it showed visibly as he sat curled up on Hutch's couch sipping at the cup of coffee.

"I hate to ask you this, Starsk," Hutch said as he sat down next to him with his own cup of coffee, "but can you remember anything else he said?"

"He disabled your car. He saw you storm out and get a taxi ... ya coulda just used my car ya know."

"Well, I wasn't sure how you'd feel about that following the conversation we'd just had," he said. "So he still says he's watching me."

"Yeah ... watching you ... watching me, calling me ..."

"It's a big brain-fuck, Starsk. He's just trying to get to you. You can't let him do that anymore. If you start to feel like it's going to get you again, you let me know, okay?"

"Yeah." Starsky said, and noticed Hutch's doubtful expression. "I will, Hutch, I promise."

Hutch nodded, satisfied. Suddenly his phone rang. He looked at Starsky, whose expression had become uneasy, then picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" he said.

"Put Sergeant Starsky on," the soft voice on the other end of the line purred.

"You have the wrong number," he said quickly and hung up the phone.

"Who was it?" Starsky asked curiously.

"Wrong number," Hutch said simply.

"Do you think he'll call here?" Starsky asked, still looking at the phone as though expecting it to ring again.

"Nah," Hutch lied. "If he's keeping such a close eye on us, he'd know I'm here."

"Yeah ... I guess he *always* calls when you aren't around."

"Yep, he's probably afraid of what I'm going to do to him."

"Guess so. Do you think he followed us here?"

"Maybe. So what? The door is locked and we're going to back each other up."

"I don't know ... is it just me or does something seem familiar about this? I mean besides the fact the guy claims to know me and seems to think I'm the one who turned him into a raving lunatic."

"Something about it is naggingly familiar," Hutch agreed. "If you talk to him again, don't get upset. Let him talk. See if he says anything that might give away his identity," Hutch suggested.

"You know I wish he would call now. I mean then you could hear what he says too and ..." Starsky's voice trailed off, he didn't finish the sentence but he didn't have to his eyes spoke volumes 'I'd have you to keep me sane.'

As if on cue, the phone rang again. Hutch picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hutchinson, it's very typical of you to want to protect little Davey Starsky from the boogie man, but I think he's old enough to face his demons personally, don't you?"

"If you're asking if I would agree that you're a demon, I would have to say 'yes'." Hutch answered.

"Very funny, you're a clever boy. Put your partner on. He must know who you're talking to by now anyway."

Wordlessly, Hutch offered the receiver to Starsky, laying a reassuring hand on his arm at the same time.

"What the hell do you want?" Starsky asked crossly.

"What do I want? Do you think you have the capacity to understand what I want? I had a pleasant conversation with your big, blond boyfriend. I really wish you were as quick of wit as he is. These conversations of ours would be so much more interesting."

"Aw, I'm hurt. Are you saying our little conversations weren't pleasant?"

There was something of a surprised pause, then the voice returned, sounded quite pleased. "David! You're sounding much better! You're sounding like you're ready for Round 2, in fact. I think you'll like it. I imagine you'll hear about it early tomorrow afternoon. Enjoy," he told him ominously, then hung up the phone.

Starsky hung up the phone with a trembling hand. "Damnit."

Hutch's brow creased in concern. "What did he say, Starsk?" he asked gently.

"Whatever he's gonna do we'll know about by early tomorrow afternoon."

"So we have until then to find a missing cop?"

"Probably already dead." Starsky said sadly. "He seems to like to ... be slow about it."

Hutch couldn't say anything to that. Nothing would soften it. He looked at his hands, then looked up at Starsky.

"You talked to 'im ... do you have any idea who our mystery caller is?"

"I didn't recognize the voice ... but it sounded like he was disguising it on purpose, you know what I mean? It didn't sound natural. I think we *know* this guy, Starsk. I think it's staring us in the face."

"If *we* know him why is he picking on *me*?"

"I don't know," Hutch admitted, rubbing the bridge of his nose. A headache was coming on strong. "He must have a reason. Something made you stand out more."

"Why don't you try to get some sleep." Starsky suggested, looking at Hutch concernedly. "You look like you need several hours of beauty sleep."

Hutch leveled a look at him. "You need sleep worse than *I* do, babe," he told him.

"I ain't the one who was *sick* recently." Starsky said quietly.

"Well, I'm feeling much better now. I slept a lot through all that. When's the last time *you* slept?"

"I've slept ... maybe not a lot, but I've slept."

"Sure you have," Hutch said. He paused thoughtfully. "Tell you what," he offered. "You go get some sleep," he told him, nodding towards the bedroom, "and I *promise* I'll catch some Z's here on the couch, okay?"

"Can't sleep. Even if I wanted to I couldn't." Starsky said. "But you *need* to, if for no other reason then being able to catch this crazy."

"Starsky," Hutch began to protest.

"I *CAN'T* sleep right now, Hutch. Not with all this happening ... and what just happened ..." Starsky jumped up from the couch, taking his cup and getting himself a second cup of coffee as though to ensure that he'd stay awake.

Hutch hung his head in resignation. "Alright," he said. "Okay, you win." He got up and went over to the coffeepot himself. "But we *both* wait for tomorrow afternoon."

"Just go get some sleep, Hutch." Starsky said firmly.

Hutch said nothing. He looked at his partner and impudently poured himself another cup of coffee.

"Damnit, Hutch. You're still suppose to be resting, you really shouldn’t’ve even worked all that overtime this week. Go get some sleep. I don't need you to stay up and babysit me." Starsky said. Truthfully he liked having Hutch, awake, with him, but his concern for his recently deathly ill partner outweighed that.

"And I don't need you to babysit *me*. I'm *fine* now. And I think if we talk about this, maybe we can work out who this madman is. What do you think you'll accomplish sitting alone in the dark? I feel like we're close. I feel like we should *know*."

"Maybe I won't accomplish anything but you could if you get some sleep, since you're the one that's wanted to work this case all along. You'll figure it all out on your own, and not a single, fucking thing I say will make a difference in that."

"Starsky," Hutch said, growing impatient, "this is more than just a grudge. This guy has some *real* hard feelings towards you. That's the *key*, can't you see that? *Everything* you have to say about this will make the difference. I know you know this guy. It's just a matter of being able to distinguish him from a long line of nuts that have walked through your life. Now, tell me what he just said to you on the phone. Who cares about the cryptic shit about his next crime? There's nothing we can do about that if you're right and whoever it is is already dead. What *else* did he say? I think he's cocky

enough to give himself away."

"He didn't say anything that makes him different then any other lunatic we've dealt with. Same old tired shit. How the hell am I suppose to be able to guess who it is? We've dealt with so many ..." Starsky said his hands trembled slightly. "Like Prudholm ..." his voice trailed off for moment.

"And we figured him *out*, Starsk. I know it cost you, but you got him," Hutch said. He moved closer to Starsky, put a hand against his face and forced him to look him in the eye. "And you'll get this one, too. Tell me what he said."

Starsky wanted to pull away, put found himself heldfast by Hutch's gaze. "Just about sounding better and ready for round 2. And that I'd hear about early tomorrow afternoon."

"No," Hutch said softly, holding his eyes. "You were on the phone longer than that. The give-away will be in the little things. What else did he say?"

. "I can't remember every little thing he said word for word." Starsky said iratedly.

"Yes, you can," Hutch said firmly, holding Starsky's gaze. "Just think back. Tell me what he said."

"I *DON'T* remember ... just some stupid shit comment referring to you as my 'blond boyfriend' ... we've heard that kinda thing a million times from crazies and people we work with."

Hutch suddenly looked pensive. "Those exact words, Starsk? Those exact words?"

"Yeah, something to that effect anyways." Starsky said. "Like I said, heard it all before."

Hutch dropped his hand. "Yeah, you probably have. The trick is to figure out where, right?" He stood up. "I'm going to go lie down for a bit. If you think of something, let me know," he said, briefly letting his hand brush against Starsky's hair as he passed him.

"Yeah, sure." Starsky said quietly, wishing it was all as simple as Hutch made it sound.

When Hutch woke, light was streaming through the slats in the blinds that hung over his window. He blinked wearily a couple of times, then turned his head to see if Starsky was still sitting on the couch. He hoped his partner had fallen asleep, but he wasn't holding his breath.

"Morin'." Starsky greeted his partner, stepping back inside from the greenhouse, with a cup of coffee in hand, stepping into the ‘doorway’ of Hutch’s bedroom.

Hutch lifted his head to look at Starsky. "Tell me you got a *little* bit of shut-eye last night, would you?"

"A *little*. Ten ... fifteen minutes, maybe." he replied truthfully. There was no sense in lying after all he still had thick dark circles under his eyes and looked worn out in general.

Hutch dropped his head back to his pillow. "Coffee fresh?" he asked.

"Yeah, just made it a little while ago. Wanna cup?"

"Mmm-hmm," Hutch sighed, then sat up reluctantly. He watched Starsky, looking ragged and worn-out, get a coffee mug from the cupboard. "You'd think the crazies could have enough consideration to pull this shit when we haven't been recently running ourselves into the ground," he commented.

"Yeah." Starsky agreed as he poured a cup of coffee for Hutch. "You think that's why he chose now to do this? Like he knew now was the time to strike?"

"Could be," Hutch said. "Have you had any thoughts about who this might be?"

"Not really." Starsky said, carrying Hutch the cup of hot coffee and handing it carefully to his partner. "Can't think where exactly I heard those words. I know someone said it but can't think who. I tried thinking why this seems familiar but I can't ..."

"Just keep trying to think of everything he said," Hutch encouraged him. "His exact words. If he calls you again, make a mental note to try and remember his exact words. I think this guy's going to fall from the details. He likes to play. He's probably giving you clues. I imagine he *wants* you to figure it out eventually."

"Why would he want me to figure it out?" Starsky asked. "That makes no sense. Less since then the stupid dream I had during my *good night's* sleep."

Hutch's expression became concerned. "What dream?" he asked, the rest of Starsky's comment lost to him.

"It wasn't like ... like the ones that have been keeping me awake lately. I mean it wasn't about ... you weren't it." Starsky said, trying not to say much about the nightmares he'd been having about Hutch dying from the plague. "It was just more of a feeling. Just blackness ... and cold. But it wasn't like being somewhere cold it was more ... that kinda cold when you lose too much blood, ya know? Felt more like I was dead and just didn't know it, I guess."

Hutch's expression tightened, but he didn't comment on the dream. He returned to the previous topic of discussion. "Well, he's doing this to you for a reason, Starsk. I think before it's over, he'll want you to know who it is. Anyway, like I said, he's *playing*. Maybe if you're clever enough to figure out his little clues, you get to know who he is..."

Hutch's voice trailed off. He almost said 'before he kills you,' but it wouldn't even come out of his mouth sarcastically.

"And if I don't figure it out in time ... he'll go after you. I doubt all that was just idle threats." Starsky said quietly. "I can't think of any case we've worked that this even seems like. I tried running through every case we've worked ..."

"Well, maybe it's *before* us," Hutch suggested. "He doesn't seem interested in me beyond the fact that I'm your friend. Try thinking of every case you've ever worked on period. When I was away or in the hospital, or before I was your partner, like I said. For example."

"I don't know ... only case that had anything to do with a freezer the guy died of a heartattack before even being convicted."

Hutch frowned, discouraged. "So much for that." He took a sip of his coffee. "Well, keep thinking about it," he told him. "You'll come up with it. I know you will."

"I wish I had half as much confidence about that as you seem to have." Starsky said quietly.

Hutch looked at him until he met his eyes and told him again, but without words this time. I *know* you will.

Starsky looked at the phone, hoping and dreading for it to ring. "When do you think he'll call again?"

"Probably after we find... whatever it is he's left for us," Hutch said. "It won't be any fun if he doesn't get your reaction to his latest predatory act."

"Oh joy." Starsky said sarcastically.

Hutch shrugged and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Just try not to give him the reaction he's looking for," he suggested.

"Oh, so now I'm not only suppose to figure out who he is and *why* he's doing this, I'm suppose to be able to just *know* what reaction he wants?" Starsky questioned angrily.

"Well *obviously* he's trying to get to you," Hutch answered, his own voice also raising slightly. "He's *counting* on it. That's why he's not going to be careful about the details. That's why you need to keep a level head!"

"Yeah well ... he's already got to me." Starsky replied, his voice much more quiet then it was before, in fact it was barely even a whisper.

Hutch looked down, feeling a little ashamed of his outburst. "I know," he answered just as quietly.

"Guess we have no choice but to ... go out and see what damage has been done, do we?"

Hutch shook his head as he got up. He squeezed Starsky's shoulder as he walked by to grab a change of clothes.

Starsky pushed the car as fast as he dared along the almost deserted road. He felt slightly more relaxed being behind the wheel of his powerful car - driving always helped him relax as though he could merely speed away from his problems. He barely seemed to be aware of anything else, not even his partner, though he was very aware of Hutch sitting in the car next to him (which perhaps helped him to relax even further).

"Zebra-3, Zebra-3 - this is Control." Hutch looked at the radio with a certain dread, glanced uneasily at Starsky and then picked up the handset.

"Zebra-3 here," he answered.

"Zebra-3, respond to a 137 at Mr. Green's Grocers on Ridgemont Street."

"We're responding, Zebra-3 out," Hutch told the dispatcher, then looked at Starsky. Neither of them had to say it. A 137 was a dead body.

Starsky unconsciously slowed the car down slightly, though still exceeding the speed limit. "Ever get the feeling were the only homicide detectives in this city?"

Hutch laughed despite himself. He nodded ruefully. "Yeah, sometimes."

Starsky drove without saying another word, trying to keep his expression calm and under control, he didn't want everyone to be able to tell how much this case was effecting him he thought it was bad enough that Hutch knew how emotional upset he was.

They arrived at the grocery store and strode through the doors holding up their badges to the uniformed officers already on the scene. Hutch walked slightly ahead of Starsky, unconsciously protective, and saw the body first. It was wrapped in clear plastic and through that you could see the victim's throat had been slit. The body was laying in a freezer, across boxes of TV dinners. Hutch instinctively turned to stop Starsky's approach, but he'd already caught up. Starsky paled visibly, stopping short the second he saw the body. For moment he felt as though he had forgotten how to breathe, let alone move. Everything else ceased to exist to Starsky in that moment, all he could focus on was the body. The features were slightly distorted by the plastic - but certain ones could still be seen clearly - the victim was tall and blonde, striking a close resemblance to Hutch.

"It's John Ames," Hutch whispered. He'd recognized the detective from Robbery almost instantly.

Starsky didn't blink or give any indication that he heard Hutch. Suddenly the world around seemed to swim and blackness encroached, he felt his legs threaten to give out from under him. Hutch waved to the coroner to take the body away. They'd seen enough. He put a hand under Starsky's elbow and gently, subtley steered him away.

He walked him to a nearby aisle, out of the line of sight of the freezer containing the body as well as that of the route by which the coroner's team would remove it from the store. "Starsk?" he asked with quiet concern.

Starsky leaned his head against Hutch's shoulder, knowing he would've collapsed if Hutch hadn't caught him. He took a deep trembling breath. "Looked like you." he said quietly.

Hutch hugged him for a moment and didn't say anything. He couldn't think of anything that wouldn't sound cheap or glib.

"It's *just* like he said ..."

"I know," Hutch said quietly. "Once they move the... body... we should go look and see if he... left us any other clues. Intentional or otherwise," he said with difficulty.

"What *clues* could there be? This is his *game* I think he'll be real careful not to give himself away." Starsky said. "He likes playing the game ..."

"Yeah, but he's cocky. He thinks he's smarter than you. He'll slip up, I know he will."

"He *is*." Starsky said quietly.

"No he's not," Hutch insisted. "He's just a hell of a lot sicker."

"He won't have left any clues, I know that much ... I just know he's more careful then that. He doesn't want me to find out until he's ready for me to find out ... that's one of the rules of his game. And he won't let me find out until ... it's too late to stop him from hurting you."

"And what does that tell us, Starsk? He knows you. That means you know him. I know you'll figure out who it is before..." his voice trailed off. He didn't want to say before it's too late.

"Can't say it because you know it's not true." Starsky said accusingly, in a slightly sharp tone.

Hutch backed off slightly, trying to look less affronted than he felt and failing. "Alright. I'm going over there to have a look around," he said, pointing in the direction of the freezer. "You can come if you want, or you can stay here. I'll be back in a little bit." He turned to walk down the aisle in the direction they'd come.

After a moment Starsky followed Hutch, keeping his head up and acting as though nothing was wrong - as though they had stepped away to discuss the case, something they normally did. To anyone who didn't know Starsky, or at least anyone who didn't know him as well as Hutch, Starsky appeared to be in control and not fazed by the dead body.

"Hey, you know Ames kinda looked like you, Hutchinson." a young uniformed officer piped up.

That comment was all it took to break Starsky's last thread of control. He paled and turned and darted out of the store, heading into the back alley. He leaned his hands against the warm brick, making gagging sounds as his body was rocked with the dry

heaves.

"What's his problem?" the uniformed officer asked.

"Shut up," Hutch told him and rushed out the door after him. He found his partner in the alley beside the grocer's, on his knees on the ground, with his forehead against the brick wall. His eyes were shut and he was trembling. Hutch crouched down beside

him and ran a hand up and down his back.

"Sorry." Starsky mumbled quietly, his voice would've been inaudible to anyone who hadn't been listening for him to speak as closely as Hutch was.

Hutch leaned his forehead against Starsky's shoulder. "No, I'm sorry," he whispered back.

"Can't do this ... I just keep seeing it being you. Then when I realize it ain't ... I'm glad it's not ... I am *happy* that someone else is dead and not you ..."

Hutch closed his eyes for a second. "You don't have to hate yourself for that. It's called being human."

"I just ... I ..." Starsky stammered, and leaned back against Hutch, drawing from the comfort and support his friend was offering. "He's gonna go after you. I *know* that much. It seems … kinda like that's the bottom line."

Hutch nodded. "So we'll be careful, okay? Now, I have to go back in there and look around. It'll look kind of funny if one of us doesn't. Do you want to wait in the car?"

"We don't have to. There is enough other people there to do it ..."

Hutch gave him that look he knew so well. There would be no argument. The choice he was given was the choice he had. "I'm going in," he said again. "Do you want to wait in the car? It'd be okay. Nobody would say anything." He gave Starsky a small smile. "If they did, I'd punch them in the nose."

"Might not *say* anything. But they'll sure as hell *think* something ... probably already do ... you know how fucking pathetic I'd seem sitting in the car 'big tough detective' who can't even stand to investigate one little murder."

"Then just... stay behind me and look tough, okay?"

"I don't want to be here at all." Starsky said plainly. "Would you if this was the other way around? If every time you even thought about, let alone saw that freezer it was your *partner’s* dead body you saw there?"

"No, I wouldn't," he answered. "In fact - and I'm going to let you in on a big secret here - I don't even want to do it *now*, but we *have* to. So I'm going in there. Why don't you stand around outside and look busy?" He got up.

"Why can't someone else do it? For once?" Starsky mumbled.

"Because this looney wants *you*. If we get someone else on this case, do you really want to explain to them everything that's happened so far? Or would you withhold evidence so they'd maybe *never* catch the guy? And how would that even help us, if he's still intent on hurting you? How would that make you or me any safer?"

Starsky shrugged. "I just don't even want to be here ... and I don't want to leave you here alone. He could still be around here somewhere, watching." Starsky sighed deeply. "Though if that *boy* makes another comment about ... Ames looking like you *he'll* be the one in the freezer."

Hutch smiled and slapped Starsky on the shoulder. "Sounds like a deal to me."

They went back into the grocery store and walked slowly over to the freezer.

Starsky thought about turning and running, but he knew Hutch was right if they turned this case over to someone else there'd be too many questions he'd have to answer, ones he didn't want to answer. And it wouldn't guarantee their (especially Hutch's) safety.

Hutch went over to the freezer himself and looked inside. There was no blood inside the freezer. The body had been well dead before it was placed there and wrapped in plastic as well. He picked up a little piece of metal - it looked like the pin from a watch - and held it up. He turned to Starsky. "Problem is, being a public place, anything we find could belong to anybody."

"Yeah, there is no way to know if it's the killers or just a shoppers."

"Or some employees..." he looked at it thoughtfully. "I think I'll send it over to the lab anyway," he said. They looked around the area a little while longer but didn't find anything else of interest. A short while later, they walked out the front doors. "See? That wasn't as bad as all that," Hutch whispered unconvincingly as they headed for the Torino.

"Oh *sure* a walk in the park." Starsky said sarcastically.

"Zebra-3, Control," Hutch answered.

"I have a call for Sergeant Starsky. I'm patching it through."

Hutch exchanged an uneasy look with Starsky. "Go ahead," Hutch said tiredly.

"Hello again, David. Did you find the tasty morsel I left you?"

"You sick sonvabitch." Starsky snarled.

"David, is that any tone to take with me? I've been very pleasant thus far."

"Yeah pleasant as a rattlesnake." Starsky retorted.

"Come, come, David. Sergeant Hutchinson is still sitting there next to you, isn't he? I think I've been downright benevolent so far."

"What the hell kinda game are you playing?" Starsky questioned, glancing at Hutch asking a silent question 'think he's watching us now?'

"Well, if it's a game, then I guess it would have to be Hide & Seek. Or maybe Tag. I don't like to think of it as a game so much as... justice. You betrayed me, David. And when I finish with you, you will be begging me to kill you. You've enjoyed the spoils of your betrayal too long already, and it won't be over for you quickly." He paused, then his tone became more playful. "I'll be seeing you very soon, however, Hutch," he said, almost spitting Hutch's name. There was a click as the line went dead.

"Fuck!" Starsky cursed loudly. "What the hell is this bastard's problem?"

"Uh, you apparently..." Hutch mused. "What do you think he meant when he said you betrayed him?"

"How should I know? I don't know what he thinks of as betrayal ... and what he thinks are the *spoils* ..." Starsky turned and faced Hutch. "If he's doing this to get at me then why does he sound like he hates you more then he hates me?"

"Well, *I* don't know. He sounds like a jealous husb..." He looked at Starsky. "No," he said firmly. "Uh-uh."

"No what?" Starsky questioned.

"Nothing," Hutch said. "Stupid idea."

Starsky looked at Hutch for a moment. "You're thinking more like ex-partner, aren't you?" He asked, not waiting for Hutch to reply he went on. "I thought about that too but, for one he never once called me David. And two - he's dead."

Hutch nodded a little miserably. "I said it was a stupid idea, didn't I?"

"Not too stupid. I had the same thought. But, it ain't possible. Besides I never betrayed him ... it was the other way around, *he* betrayed me." Starsky was whispering by the time he finished.

"Well, that's how *you* saw it," Hutch said with a note of exasperation in his voice. "I'm sure his not entirely stable mind probably processed the whole thing a little differently."

"What difference does it make? He's dead. He was killed in a car accident last year."

"His car was in an accident last year. The body was burned beyond recognition," Hutch argued, though he wasn't sure why. He didn't really believe it was him. Did he?

"Can we not have this discussion?" Starsky said. "I don't want to talk about dead friends ... even if he was no longer a friend by the time he died."

"Okay, okay," Hutch conceded. "So who do you want to put on our suspect list instead?"

"Why don't you tell me? Though my guess is you only want to suspect a dead guy." Starsky said crossly. He glanced at Hutch his expression softening. "Sorry. I just ... he's dead okay. I know after all that happened he was no longer a friend ... maybe he never really was but ..." Starsky paused. "I thought about him when thinking who it could be, but I don't believe it could be him. I mean besides the fact he’s dead."

"Okay," Hutch said more gently. He knew that Starsky had retained something of a soft-spot for his former friend, even if it had been bruised by the time he'd finished with him. "So let's work it through, huh? Who else could it be? It's someone you know, or knew, well enough to betray him - even if he only thinks you did."

"I really don't know. If I figure it out, you'll be the first to know."

Hutch just nodded in reply. "Let's go get something to eat," he said.

"Not hungry."

"I know," Hutch told him, "but you're going to eat anyway, or I'm going to forcefeed you."

"You could *try* but you wouldn't get very far."

"You haven't eaten in two days, Starsky!" Hutch shouted. "Do you have any idea how frightening that is? How long have I known you? I can't remember the last time you weren't hungry!"

"I'm not hungry. I couldn't eat anything even if I wanted to, which I don't." Starsky said. "You go on stupid diets all the time and don't eat much ... so what's the difference. Besides you don't ever like my eating habits. You keep saying 'bout

eating less and losing weight..." Starsky retorted, rambling by this time.

"Gawdamit, Starsky! I've never, ever *starved* myself! But, forget that. That's not what this is about. This is about you. You're losing it, do you know that? You don't eat, you don't sleep - you just sit around waiting for the next brainfuck. I can't work with you like this! You're completely irrational! I'll be your friend, I'll help you anyway I can, but I can't work like this. I can't. So drop me off at the police station, then go home. Give me a call if you need me, and feel free to come back when you're useful again." He sat back in his seat and looked out the window. He couldn't watch the effect of his rant on

Starsky's face, but he'd had to say it. Starsky was beginning to really lose his mind and it was scaring him shitless.

Starsky gripped the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles were turning white. He closed his eyes against the burning tears, refusing to allow a single tear to fall, refusing to let the effect Hutch's words had on him show that clearly. His breath came in short gasps, his whole body trembling. He opened his eyes and turned and looked at Hutch, his deep blue eyes a turmoil of emotions. Fear and pain the most clearly readable. "If that's ... how you feel ... that way then just ... just go. Find someone ... else to drive to back to the station ... ask Dobey for ... for a new ... new partner."

"I don't want a new partner, Starsk. I want you in fighting form, get it? So put something in your stomach, and I don't really care if it's a salad or a greaseball burger; then get some rest, and I don't really care if you need to take a sedative to do it. If you'll do that for me, then we'll get up tomorrow and we'll get a fresh start at this thing. If you won't, then why don't you just drive us into the nearest brick wall, because it'll get us as far."

"Sedatives don't work." Starsky mumbled, debating the last option though without Hutch in the car.

"Tell you what - you eat something and the rest of the conditions are negotiable."

"Just ... no sedatives, okay?" Starsky looked at Hutch pleading. "All they do is ... you can't wake up from dreams when you take 'em."

"Okay, fair enough," Hutch conceded. "So what are you having to eat?" he asked, careful not to ask what he 'wanted' to eat.

"Don't know ... nothing frozen though." Starsky said, his stomach churning even at the thought of 'frozen' food.

"How about some soup? Or a sandwich? I'm thinking something *light*, here. And fresh."

"Yeah sounds ... fine."

"Take us to my house, then. I have some stuff to make soup. Nothing weird, I promise."

Starsky sat quietly at the table in Hutch's kitchen, staring at the newspaper pretending to be reading an article. He glanced up at Hutch. "Just don't put *nothing* into the food or something, 'kay, Hutch?" Starsky said, sounding like a kid afraid their parent was going to hide their medicine in their food to *force* them to take it.

Hutch looked almost hurt. "I said no sedatives. I also promised nothing weird."

"Oh ... yeah." Starsky said, as though just recalling Hutch had said that.

Hutch frowned a little, more at the fact that Starsky was getting worse then at what he'd said. He stirred the soup. "It'll just be a minute, okay?"

"'Kay. What kinda soup you making again?"

"Vegetable," he reminded him. "You know, carrots, peas, potatoes..."

I *know* what vegetable soup is, just asked what kind you was making."

"Well, I told you twice already," Hutch said, but not unkindly. He took two bowls out of the cupboard and put them on the counter, pouring soup from the pot into both of them. He took a spoon from the drawer and placed Starsky's soup in front of him, putting the spoon directly into his hand.

Starsky stirred the soup with his spoon, he glanced at Hutch then back at the soup. Sighing quietly he took a spoonful of the soup. It did taste good, though his stomach didn't seem to totally agree. Hutch watched him like a hawk until he had a good three spoonfuls in him before starting on his own portion. Even then he kept an eye on his partner. Starsky finished half the bowl of soup then pushed the bowl away. His stomach already complaining about what he had eaten.

"I guess it's better than nothing," Hutch sighed quietly. "Will you go lie down for a bit?"

"Not sleepy." Starsky complained.

"You sound like a six-year-old who wants to stay up and watch TV," Hutch said. "You are *too* tired. Go look in the mirror. Just humour me and lie down, okay? I didn't say you had to sleep."

"Yes, mom." Starsky mumbled as he stood up and stumbled towards the bedroom.

Hutch nodded emphatically and finished his soup.

Starsky flopped down on the bed and grabbed one of the pillows, holding it close to his body as he curled up on his side. He looked very much like the six year old that Hutch had just accused him of looking like as he fought to keep his eyes open. Though his body seemed to have other ideas, he was so tired that he was cold and his body felt like lead, especially his eyelids. He closed his eyes and it wasn't long before his mind gave into that same exhaustion and shut down too.

Hutch picked up a book and sat on the couch with it, not wanting to do anything loud enough to wake Starsky. The sleep was a long time coming and much needed. He glanced at the phone and it occurred to him that their psycho stalker might decide to ring them up again. He unplugged the phone from the jack and sat back with his book.

A few hours later, Starsky awoke, not having moved from the position that he had fallen asleep in. He felt slightly rested, he knew he could use more sleep but didn't want to tempt it, knowing he may not be as fortunate the second time around. Instead he opened his eyes, blinking against the light that filtered into the room. He stared at the ceiling for a moment as awareness returned along with the memories of that had occurred, making him wish he had just stayed asleep. He sat up slowly, swinging his feet off the bed, stretching as he stood up. He walked out into the other room and looked around, not seeing Hutch in the front room nor the kitchen. He stepped over to the door that led to the greenhouse - again no Hutch. Panic set in, Hutch was gone, the killer had broke in and kidnapped Hutch (or worse) and he'd slept through it all. He tried to shake that thought from his mind it couldn't be. He ran back inside. "HUTCH! HUUUUTCH!?"

Hutch opened the bathroom door, still drying his hands on the towel he was holding, and poked his head out. "Starsk? I'm right here. Are you okay?"

Starsky looked at Hutch. "I ... I thought ..." Starsky stammered unable to say anything else, hoping that Hutch would understand just from those words.

"It's been quiet," Hutch assured him. "Everything's fine. Do you feel any better? Want to finish your soup?"

Starsky shook his head, answering 'no' to everything at the same time. "I thought he got to you ..." Starsky whispered.

"He didn't," Hutch told him. "He won't."

"HE COULD!"

Hutch strode over to him and grabbed his shoulders. "Stop it. You're not helping yourself. Calm down," he told him firmly.

"He could kill you ... and there's not a damn thing I can do to stop him ... you said it yourself ... I am useless to you as a partner ..."

"No, I told you to stop *being* useless. Don't put words in my mouth." Hutch took a breath and continued. "He could kill me," he conceded. "He could kill you. A lot of guys could have and a lot more will want to later. There's nothing we can do about that. It's a side-effect of our work. We have to figure out who this is and stop him - and I need your brain for that. So stop worrying about what he *might* do. Think about every conversation you've had with him so far. This is someone you know. You have to figure out who."

"I DON'T know, okay? You're the one that claims to be so damn smart you *claim* that you are the brains so you figure it out!" Starsky yelled at Hutch, before storming out of the apartment slamming the door as he left.

Hutch flinched as the door slammed. "Good approach, Hutchinson," he mumbled to himself. "Nice execution. 10 out of 10."

Starsky didn't go far, he paced the sidewalk in front of Venice Place, ever watchful of the door that led up the stairs to Hutch's apartment. Not so much watching for Hutch to follow, but watching for anyone who might try to go inside.

He saw Starsky keeping an eye on the door as he paced the sidewalk tensely. He smiled to himself. Yes, it was time. He pulled a handgun from his jacket and managed to sneak up behind Starsky, using his quarry's preoccupation with the door to his advantage. He put the barrel of the gun into the small of Starsky's back and whispered "Good evening, Sergeant Starsky."

Starsky tensed, wondering if he could disarm the madman before there was time for him to fire a shot, he figured the odds were against it. "Yeah, and what's so *good* about it?"

"Well, I'll tell you, Davey," he said, the grin behind his mask almost audible in his voice. "If you come with me and do as you're told, the good will be the fact that your friend Hutch gets to live a little longer. How's that for good?"

Starsky flinched. "You ... you're suppose to be dead ..." his voice was nothing more then a whisper.

"So are you," came the pointed reply. "The difference will be that they won't have any trouble identifying your bodies when they pull them out of the freezer."

"Just what the fuck is your problem, Richie? Don't give a bullshit story that *I* betrayed you cause it was the other way around buddy."

"Oh really, Davey? Is that how it happened? Well let me tell you how *I* remember it - I came to my oldest friend - my partner - when I *needed* him and he turned his back on me! He traded me in for a newer model and he left me to rot. But don't worry, Davey. I may *blame* you, but I don't *hate* you. You'll die quickly. I'll make it painless." He steered him through the door of Hutch's building and shut it behind them, to avoid being seen on the street. "Your new pal, however, the bestest friend of all your friends.... that's another story altogether. What *he* did is unforgiveable."

"Leave Hutch alone." Starsky snarled, throwing his weight backwards, hoping he could knock Barker down the stairs even if it meant taking the fall with him, it was a far better option then letting him get to Hutch.

Barker had been expecting the blow. He knew Starsky well. He swung him around and slammed him into the wall. He placed the gun at the base of Starsky's neck. "Please, Davey, we'll have no more of that," he said calmly.

Starsky blinked, taking slightly off guard by the movement. "HUTCH!" Starsky yelled loudly, using only one word to communicate to his partner, his tone telling all that needed to be known.

"Good, get him to open the door for us," Barker said snidely as he shoved Starsky ahead of his up the stairs. He didn't try to hide the fact that he had a gun trained on Starsky's head. He wanted Hutch to see it so he would get any heroic ideas and force him to kill Starsky first.

Hutch crept out of his apartment with his gun drawn. Barker wasn't creeping however. He walked right into the middle of the hallway, and displayed his gun, pointing it at Starsky's temple. "Put it down, Hutchinson," was all he said. Hutch put it down.

"Sorry." Starsky said quietly, as he looked at Hutch, though refused to hold eye contact for longer then a second.

Barker gestured to Hutch to get back inside the apartment and Hutch did so. Barker picked up Hutch's gun off the floor and then shoved Starsky into the apartment, holding his gun to Starsky's neck, now. He tucked Hutch's gun into the waistband of his pants, the reached up and pulled off his mask. "Evening, Hutchinson."

Hutch stared at him. "Barker."

"Oh, that's nice. You're good with names. You win the prize." He suddenly pointed the gun at Hutch and fired, hitting him in the thigh, a few inches above the knee. Hutch cried out involuntarily and fell to the floor.

"HUTCH!" Starsky screamed, he slammed an elbow into Richie's gut, and pulled away from the older man. He rushed over to Hutch and dropped down by his partner's side. Positioning himself so that he made a human shield between Hutch and Richie.

Richie rushed over and grabbed Starsky's hair, pulling his head back and looking down on him. "You're only making this *harder* on him," he seethed, and aimed the gun at Hutch's stomach.

Starsky gripped Richie's wrist tightly, his thumb digging into Barker's wrist, as he forced the aim of the gun away from Hutch. Richie let go of Starsky's hair and punched him in the face. With his attention on Starsky, Hutch managed to swing his good leg up and kick Barker in the stomach, and then in the face in quick succession. Barker stumbled and pulled Hutch's gun from his waistband.

He aimed Hutch's gun at Starsky and his own at Hutch. "I'd tell you to say your goodbyes, Davey, but there's no time for that." He aimed his gun at Hutch and prepared to pull the trigger.

Starsky rushed at Richie and tackling him the ground, the gun went off and the bullet became harmlessly embedded into the wall. He reached for his gun, forgetting that he wasn't actually wearing it, he hadn't it since the night Hutch had taken it away from him.

Richie hit Starsky in the head with Hutch's gun. He had dropped the one he'd brought when Starsky tackled him.

Hutch pulled himself over to it as Barker grappled with Starsky and held it up in slightly shaking hands. "Barker!" he shouted, pointing the gun at him. Barker turned and looked at him.

Blood was flowing freely from Starsky's temple, where he had been struck with the gun, he could feel darkness trying to invade his mind but fought it off, more feverently then he had fought sleep the past few days. He took advantage of the distraction to twist the Magnum away from Richie. He pressed the muzzle between Barker's eyes, his finger dancing around the trigger. "How the hell do you like being on the other end?" Starsky questioned coldly.

Barker shrugged defiantly. "No different than usual," he said coldly. "So pull the trigger."

"Why the hell did you do this?" Starsky asked, his voice quiet.

"Don't pretend you don't know. Don't pretend you don't know what it feels like to be abandoned. Tossed aside. And for *what*, Davey? For him," he answered himself, nodding with disgust towards where Hutch tended his bleeding leg on the floor.

"You left - both times you left." Starsky said plainly. "You are the one who did all the betraying ... I could get past the fact you almost killed me, but ... last time you almost killed Hutch ... if you hadn't done that ... if you stayed ... we might notta been partners but we would've been *friends*."

"Not like we used to be, Davey. Not like before him. We may have been friends, but he would have still been more important to you." Richie slumped to the floor. "You were the only person who ever considered me a friend," he said. His tone was almost a whimper. Hutch pulled himself over to the phone while he was talking, knowing Starsky had him covered. He pushed the plug back into the jack, then picked up the receiver and called the emergency operator.

Starsky moved the gun, but kept it gripped tightly ready in case it was need. He placed his hand against the side of Richie's face. "Sh, just take it easy, okay?" he said softly, forcing his voice to sound more calm then he actually felt.

"What would you know about it?" Richie said mournfully. "Just get away from me."

"You know better then that." Starsky said, glancing at Hutch for a moment as though for reassurance that Hutch was still there and was still okay (or mostly at least) before returning his attention back to Richie.

Hutch propped himself up against the couch and kept pressure on his wound. He said nothing.

Richie dropped his head into his hands. "I mean it. Get away from me. Just leave me alone."

"No." Starsky said firmly.

"Davey, I just tried to kill you and your friend. And I meant it. You're dead to me now."

The sound of approaching sirens filtered in from the street. Starsky closed his eyes for a brief moment and sighed. This man had tried to kill, and tired to kill Hutch and committed two murders - but he had also once called this man 'friend' and that wasn't something he turned away from, ever. He lightly stroked the side of Richie's head. Words failed him, and he wasn't even sure there was words to be said.

Richie seemed for a minute like he might give in, lean into Starsky's body, but he straightened himself up. "I'm not sorry, you know. If I had the gun right now, I'd finish him off," he said, pointing to where Hutch sat, silently bleeding. Several uniformed officers burst in the door then, guns drawn, cutting the conversation short.

"I know." Starsky said quietly and sadly. He pulled away from Richie and moved to sit beside Hutch. "Read him his rights." he told the officer's absently, as he leaned against his partner as he struggled to keep himself for crying.

Hutch held onto his wounded leg tightly with the bloodier of his two hands. The other arm he put around Starsky's shoulders and rested his hand his partner's soft, curly hair. "It's over now," he whispered as the uniforms lead Richie out of the apartment.

Starsky gently placed his hand over Hutch's, that kept firm pressure on the bullet wound. "I'm sorry, Hutch." he whispered. "Just ... just ... " he gave up and shook his head as the words wouldn't come, he knew now probably wasn't the time to deal with this, now was the time to Hutch medical attention.

Hutch pressed his forehead against Starsky's for a moment. "I know," he said.

Several hours later, after they had both received medical attention for the injures, and after a report had been filed, Starsky and Hutch were finally able to relax. Starsky rummage through his fridge looking for something to eat, as Hutch sat on the couch, his injured leg propped up on the coffee table.

Hutch watched his friend sift through the contents of his fridge for a few minutes. There was still something weighing him down. Hutch knew him well enough to see it, though the effect was subtle. "Starsk?" he asked almost hesitantly. "You wanna talk about it?"

Starsky shut the fridge, and leaned against it for a moment as though deciding if he wanted to talk about what was bothering and what he would say. Starsky slowly walked into the other room and sat down on the table, beside Hutch's foot. "Sorry that I got you shot ... I know I never should've let him get up those stairs ..."

"What are you talking about?" Hutch said. "If you hadn't done what he said he would have shot you then and there. He wouldn't have had any qualms about that. If that's all that's wrong, then don't worry about it. It's only a leg wound. It'll be fine. And we both came out of it alive this way."

"Maybe I could've talked him outta it without having to get you involved." Starsky insisted.

"I got involved when he came to town," Hutch said. "If he hated you for what happened, he hated me more."

Starsky gazed down at the floor. "I don't get why he did any of it ... not last time ... and definitely not this time. I mean ..."

Hutch reached over as best he could from his awkward position and placed his hand on Starsky's knee. "He has some problems. They're not your fault. He's messed up inside. What happened all those years ago was one of the early warning signs. You've been the victim of all this just because you were there. No other reason. Nothing you did. You have to let it go now."

"And if I seen it back then I coulda done something to help him. Before ... it went *this* far, before he became a ... murderer." Starsky looked up at Hutch. "I did *nothing* that's the whole problem."

Hutch shook his head vehemently. "No. You were his friend. That's more than anyone else ever did for him. Probably more than he deserved, though you don't want to hear that. Remember what happened to his next partner? He died. Murder wasn't far from what he'd done to you. And you were just lucky. You could have died. You could well have died. It's *his* problem, Starsk, not yours. You can't go around feeling guilty about it the rest of your life. Anyway, you could have killed him here. You didn't do that either. And now he's getting professional help. Maybe he'll never get well, but because of

you he at least has the chance."

Starsky rubbed his hands over his face and sighed deeply, he knew Hutch was right Richie's problems were Richie's problems, not his but still he couldn't stop blaming himself, just a little bit, for what happened to the man he had once called friend. Starsky looked at Hutch for moment, then in a single fluid motion slid off the table and moved to sit next to his partner. "I just wish you hadn't caught in the middle."

"Well, so do I," Hutch said, glancing at his leg - but he was joking. The smile on his face clearly said so. His expression regained its seriousness then. "But don't think I'll ever stay out of the middle if you need me there," he said.

"I know." Starsky said and smiled. "I'd never doubt that ... you know even though I wish I did more back then, I wouldn't change what happened with us becoming partners, don't ya?"

Hutch nodded. "Yeah, I do." They were silent for a moment. Hutch glanced over at Starsky. It would take time for him to come to terms with everything, naturally, but the worst of the weight had gone. He nudged him playfully with his elbow. "So what are you making for dinner, huh?" he said with a grin.

"Order a pizza?" Starsky asked.

Hutch nodded. "Okay, but no anchovies," he said. "And no onions."

"You got it." Starsky said, a genuine smile touching his lips as he grinned at his partner, his best friend, his dark blue eyes thanking Hutch for so much with just one look. And in the moment of that look he knew that everything would once again be okay, all that had happened was on the road behind them and they would keep moving on.

~ The End ~