The Pits was just winding down from it's dinner rush, and it's proprietor gladly stripped away his apron, tossing it into the uniform hamper in the back of the kitchen. Almost skeletally thin, Huggy Bear was all angles and loose limbs, with dark skin and elfin eyes. He strolled casually behind the bar, relieving his bartender and checked on the few regulars scattered here and there. A smoky haze, dim lights, the sounds of a jukebox, and a group playing pool filled the atmosphere. A few people remained in the booths, finishing off their meals. One in particular was sitting in a place in the back near the fire escape with a clear view of the main door. His sneakered feet where propped up comfortably on the table, the remains of his dinner sat nearby and he had his face buried in the evening paper as he slouched against the wall behind him.
Dark curly hair, cut short, sporting a bit of silver at the temples, did much to emphasize the natural magnetism the man seemed to have. Add the blue eyes, the self confidence and a well kept physique and you came up with a very handsome man who knew it. David Starsky, in a denim shirt and jeans, felt comfortable enough in Huggy's place to drape his aviator's leather jacket over the back of the booth and sit with his shoulder holster and .9mm Barretta exposed. No one ever bothered him. No one dared. Privately, Huggy thought he looked a little older. There were a few lines near his eyes revealing an inner weariness, but for the most part his friend looked and acted ageless.
He'd been there since his shift ended, having gone through yet another partner. His reputation over the past few years of being a maverick had once again gained the detective the desired freedom of not being saddled with another trainee. Once more he was allowed to work alone and that suited him just fine. He felt much happier, until Dobey found another trainee for him to work over. Huggy knew that Starsky was very hard on his partners, nothing had been the same since Hutch had resigned. He sighed, even now they couldn't escape the memories of the tall blonde detective. He busied himself with cleaning the bar. At least Starsky had settled back to being somewhat normal, although he had mentioned to him that he had been thinking of Hutch the other day, something about feeling that funny itch between his shoulders. Huggy told him it was probably fleas and dropped it, but he couldn't help but notice that the brunette had seemed a little moodier than normal. Huggy reached for another bottle and snapped the cap off of it. He was making his way around the bar to deliver it to Starsky, when his ears caught the ring of the bell above the door. Looking up he stopped, disbelief plainly written on his face.
The newcomer was short and slender, clad in jeans and wearing a royal blue turtleneck, boots, and a short black leather jacket. Her hair was unmistakable, a mass of ivory white that hung to the middle of her back with feathery bangs. Huggy stared in surprise, suddenly believing in ghosts, and intuition.
"Uh oh..." he muttered under his breath as he ambled up to Starsky's booth, watching the blonde looking around uncertainly. Starsky looked up at him curiously, hearing the tone in his voice as Huggy set the bottle in front of him.
"'Member dat funny itch you had between your shoulders, ma man?" he asked.
"Yeah?" Starsky said looking at him.
"Blonde Death just walked through de door..." Huggy tipped his head. Starsky frowned with a puzzled expression on his face then he lowered one corner of his newspaper and froze.
She stood near the entrance looking uncertain and nervous, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her short coat. Unmistakable even clear across a room. There was only one Ali Coulter.
"Want me to get rid of her?" Huggy asked.
"Not on your life, that's my job." Starsky pleasantly replied smiling
brightly at the other, but his eyes had a cold, hard dark glint
> in them.
"Just don't tear apart my place!" Huggy growled, feeling uneasy.
He turned, strolling around the bar as Ali approached. Huggy caught a good look at her face and blinked in surprize. She looked normal, like she had before...
"Hug?" she asked a bit uncertainly, having only seen him once or twice after the shooting.
"Dat's da name," he said scrutinizing her face. She looked tired, worried and... Huggy couldn't quite put a finger on it, but he'd swear she looked scared. Ice blue eyes met dark brown ones and didn't find a friendly face. She swallowed nervously, looked away and asked.
"Is he here?" He sorely wanted to tell her no and get her out of the place, he nodded his head.
"In de usual spot." He watched as she frowned, looking around.
Under the surface, her memories refused to connect with her brain. She looked around, peering through the gloom, then spotted the detective, slowly turning in his seat, dropping his legs to the floor and finishing the financial section. Ali glanced at Huggy.
"Thanks..." she whispered and moved away from the bar. Huggy frowned, this wasn't the Ali Coulter he remembered, the one strapped to a gurney and shrieking in rage...
Ali struggled hard with the knots in her stomach, forcing her feet to move towards the booth. She remembered why she was there and found the courage to approach the table. Starsky didn't even look her way as she stopped, gazing at him, trying to judge his reactions. He shook the paper, straightening it out.
"Dave?" she asked.
"Starsky." he replied instantly. "Never Dave, not with you."
Ali drew breath ready to reply but heard her husband's voice in her head whispering ...'think!' She sighed, relaxing her tense shoulders.
"Starsky." she said quietly. "May I speak with you?" He didn't reply, he just continued reading the hockey stats, idly sipping from the bottle. Ali could literally feel resentment coming from him. She waited.
He finally shot a cold glance her way.
"Please," she asked.
"Talk all you want." he replied, flipping a page, and glancing at the football scores.
"Can we talk in private?" she asked. Starsky snorted and looked at her.
"Not on your life, sweetheart!" he drawled his Bogart expression.
He smiled cold and hard. "I want all the witnesses I can get around me this time, toots!" He rolled his shoulders and twisted so that he faced her squarely, his legs outside the booth and his gun in easy reach.
Ali dropped her head slightly, drawing in a deep breath of air. Think, think, think! She faced him.
"All right." she said.
"I'm warning you though, there isn't a whole lot you can say." His tone was light and easy, but his eyes were saying a whole lot more.
"I..." she started, dropped her eyes, swallowed, and looked back up. "He needs help."
"Who? Blintz? He made his bed he can sleep in it."
"He didn't make this one!" she loudly snapped back. Patrons abruptly got quiet, and Huggy groaned. He could see Ali begin to rock back on her heels and a wicked smile glint off Starsky's face.
"Too bad." he replied.
Ali's eyes widened slightly as she gritted her teeth. 'Think!' "That's mighty damned cold coming out of you!" she hissed.
Starsky laughed. "You're a riot! You need to hit the Vegas strip and audition!"
"He's gonna be dead in the next few days if we don't find him!" she snapped again. This time all conversation stopped. Huggy frantically tried getting Starsky's attention.
"We?" Starsky shot back, smiling at Ali's obvious struggle.
"He needs help!" She looked squarely at him.
"He needed help a long time ago, sweetie!" Starsky shot back.
Ali stared at him. This was going nowhere in a hurry. She sighed. 'Think.' "What do you want me to say, what would you like me to do?" she demanded loudly.
Huggy winced as a few patrons rose uneasily and began backing away. Starsky barely saw him waving for his attention. Disgusted he stood up, forcing Ali to back away. Swinging his jacket on, he nodded at the door next to the booth, clearly marked FIRE EXIT.
"Outside." he snapped, watching Huggy sag with relief. Ali moved.
Starsky swaggered behind her. In the alley behind the Pits, a very familiar red Gran Torino sat parked, blocking the alley way. The door had barely clicked shut when Ali suddenly found herself slammed against the front fender, Starsky's arm pinning her neck down on the cold metal, and kicking her feet out away from her in the time honored "spread". He could feel her entire body tense.
"Just give me one little excuse!" he hissed in her ear, his other hand searching for a gun, a knife, anything. Gasping as he forced his weight into his arm, Ali felt a tidal wave of blackness starting to crash over her.
"Think!" she gasped, out loud. "Think! Ali, think!" She struggled against Starsky's weight, knowing he had the advantage. She squeezed her eyes shut. "Think!" she sobbed, forcing the blackness back, she suddenly relaxed under him, her knees dropping to the pavement, catching him slightly off guard but not enough to release her. "Think!"
Starsky snarled slightly, looking at her as he strengthened his balance and shifted his arm on her neck to be holding her down with his hand. Ali lay half draped across the car, her entire body limp under his hand, he literally held her on the hood by her neck. Ali was sobbing, her eyes screwed shut, babbling 'think', between gasps for air. He believed her to be psychotic, but even this was down right weird. Slowly he loosened his grip, carefully backing up. Ali slid to her knees, one hand on the side of the car, leaning heavily into the wheel. She was openly crying now.
"He's been gone six days!" she sobbed. "They've given up looking for him! He needs help!" She buried her face in her arm. "Think," she pleaded with herself. "I didn't know where else to go!" she whimpered.
Starsky just stared at her. He backed against the wall, watching her warily, but Ali continued to weep. He turned away suddenly, jerking the bar door open so hard it slammed against the wall. As he disappeared, Ali felt the last shreds of hope begin to leave her.
Inside the Pits, Huggy stared as Starsky came back in the door, beginning to pace furiously, biting at a hang nail. His face was a study in contortions. Finally he glared at Huggy. "Get me a glass of water, will ya?"
Huggy didn't argue, he even added ice. Starsky took it, scowled, and headed back out the door.
Ali still sat crumpled against the wheel, abject and broken, still weeping. Starsky cautiously approached, set the water in front of her and backed away.
"Get a hold of yourself, Coulter!" he snapped at her, wondering who he was angry at.
Ali stared at the water, one slim small hand trying to dash the tears away from her eyes. She couldn't bring herself to look up at the man now leaning one hip into his car, arms folded, waiting. Struggling to control her gasping, she shakily reached out and took the glass. She had to look at him as she drank. His lips were set in a disgusted purse, his eyes a dark and stormy blue.
"Get up," he growled at her. Ali looked away, and with her arm across the tire, she pushed herself to her feet, setting the glass on the hood.
"This had better be a damned good explanation." he warned. She looked sideways at him, pulling her hair away from her face, momentarily exposing the livid scar.
"It was a..." she stammered. "It was a manhunt. Our neighbor killed his wife." She whispered. "Kenny had to lead the trackers into the mountains, but he separated from them, and they haven't seen him since.." she felt the tears coming on again. A whimper escaped her lips. "We're having early storms, he disappeared four days ago, and they called off the search." Ali dropped her head, her hand slipping over her mouth, hair falling back in the way.
Starsky shook his head in disgust, turned and slapped his hand on the roof, causing Ali to jump.
"Damn that stupid blonde turkey! I don't know how many times I've told him not to do crap like that!" He glared at Ali. "And what makes you think after all the crap you've done that you can just waltz back into this place and expect me to go with you?!"
"I don't expect you to go with me..." she said in a small voice, trying again to wipe the tears away with her hand. "He misses you, Starsky. He knows you'd find him if you could," She paused and looked at him with haunted eyes. "If you would..." She dropped her head again.
"I know I can't say anything to you to take away your hatred of me. All I can ever do is tell you how sorry I am for the things I did to you, for the pain I caused..." Her voice dropped lower almost a whisper. "All I can do is ask for forgiveness and beg you to come back and help find him."
For a very long time David Starsky just stared at her, speechless.
"Ya know..." He finally broke the silence. "That must have taken a hell of a lot practice to get that down pat." he smirked. "But it ain't gonna work." his voice lowered. He pointed an accusing finger at her. "You deliberately waited for me to come at you that night. Then you systematically tried to take me out! I have every reason and right in this world to hate your guts, lady! You nearly killed me! Then that blonde idiot of a partner threw away a good career to go after a nutbar like you!" He watched as Ali stared at him in disbelief. A lot of pent up anger was pouring out of the detective. "And just when I had the chance to put you away in a nice, safe, permanent place, he threw away his life on you!"
Ali couldn't move as Starsky continued his yelling. Eventually the steam subsided, and he glared at her. Ali said nothing, she was blank faced, frozen. Finally, she looked away from him and reached inside her jacket, withdrawing a small packet.
"I'm sorry I wasted your time, Dave." she whispered and set the envelope on the roof of the Torino. He watched as a hopeless, distant look filled her eyes, then she turned away from him and began walking down the alley, settling her hands back deep into the pockets of her jacket, hunching her shoulders.
"What the hell is that!" he demanded. Ali's distant voice floated back to him.
"It's for his funeral."
Starsky stared hard after her. He'd just tried every trick he knew to provoke her into a fight, and Ali Coulter hadn't fallen for it. He didn't trust her for all she was worth. Which, in his estimation, wasn't much at this point. However she was different now. He studied the forlorn figure walking silently away, one hand coming out from her pocket to wipe at her face. Starsky couldn't help but see Hutch's calming influence all over this person he had taken for a wife. All of Hutch's insistence that given some time to help her, she would change, and heal, was coming to pass.
Anyone even slightly aware of Hutch knew he had a nurturing touch like no other. Starsky had been on the receiving end of Hutch's care more times than he cared to count. Plant, animal, or person, if it was broken Hutch had a knack for fixing it. Starsky also knew how close his former partner came to going into med school instead of deciding on the police academy.
He looked at the packet on the Torino and picked it up, tugging out a ticket. It was round rip air fare from LAX to Lewiston, Idaho, the closest airport to Willow Lake.
"I'm gonna regret this..." he muttered, snapping the door open on the car. Piling in, he fired it up, and followed her. He rolled the window down as he approached, leaning on his arm.
"Coulter?" he snapped. She stopped, looking at him warily waiting for another tongue lashing. He smirked, and impatiently added. "Get in the car, will ya?"