Guy Sanchez walked into the shed and closed the door behind him. Swiftly he walked over to the storm lamp hanging from one of the rafters of the wooden structure and struck a match, lighting the oil and expertly trimming the wick. He replaced the smoke stained glass cover and re-hung the lamp on the nail.

Immediately the interior of the shed was bathed in a warm honey coloured light, the shadows of the flickering flame dancing around the interior and lending an eerie, almost supernatural effect to the scene. In the lamp’s guttering light both men could now clearly see the ravaged face Sanchez had hidden in the shadows earlier.

The right side of his face was smooth and shiny, the burned scar tissue gleaming almost wetly in the dim light. It was obvious that he’d had countless procedures done by plastic surgeons to make him an acceptable sight again, but nothing could disguise the skeletal quality to that side of his face, the livid white pigment-less skin and the way the corner of his eye was dragged down in a permanent frown. His mouth too was drawn tight into a semblance of a grimace and the lips on the right side were small and mean. Taken in conjunction with the relatively unmarred left hand side of his face, which was still handsome and rugged, the sight was all the more sickening and both men were hard pressed to keep the revulsion from their expressions.

The girl still sobbed in the corner, however the hysteria had gone and now she wept quietly into her raised hands, refusing to look at any of the three men. Her face was still covered in blood and it stained her hands and down her arms. Her hands were blood stained too from the futile attempts he’d made to fight off the monster and her knees were scraped and grazed. Her blouse was ripped down the front and her skirt was torn at the side, her stockings holed and laddered and one sandal was missing.

Like a predator stalking its prey, Sanchez moved towards her, stepping over the bound legs of the two cadets and very slowly he knelt in front of the girl and pulled her hands away from her face. She closed her eyes, stiffening, and refused to look at the disfigured attacker. He put his burn scarred hand up to her face and tilted her chin up so that he could see into her face. She flinched away from him and turned her head away and he laughed, a low and evil sound.

‘Leave her alone’ Starsky ground out as he watched the sickening display. ‘Take your dirty hands off of her or so help me I’ll kill you where you stand’.

Sanchez took his gaze away from his quarry and stared at the brunette angrily.

‘All the beauty together. A pretty girl and two pretty boys, all ripe for the taking. So, you’ll kill me huh?’ he muttered. He stood slowly and stared down at the bound brunette. ‘What do I see here? Hm. Chains? Taped legs. Do you really think you’re in a position to do anything to me? I don’t think so! I, on the other hand, can do what the hell I like to you’. He squatted in front of Starsky, licking his lips appreciatively.

‘So pretty’ he murmured as he reached out to the curly man’s face. He stroked his thumb down the side of Starsky’s cheek and the brunette stared back at him, defiance shining in his indigo eyes. He refused to give him the satisfaction of letting him see just how much his skin crawled at the contact and Guy continued his exploration of the bound man’s body, gently unbuttoning the shirt and running his hand over the furred skin, stopping at the nipples and giving them a pinch.

Starsky’s knees jerked up in surprise and anger, but he was unable to touch Sanchez to bat the creep’s hand away and Hutch saw the beginnings of desperation on the rugged face.

‘What the hell are you talking about Guy?’ Hutch said softly, seeing the shoulders stiffen as their captor heard his name. He swung around until he could see the blond face on.

‘So you know me’ he said in surprise. ‘I thought the world had forgotten me. It’s amazing how quickly fame can disappear’ he muttered. ‘Especially when you’re not one of the beautiful set any longer. Are you jealous at the attention I’m giving your friend? I always did like dark curly hair, but I can go for blondes too’. He shuffled over till he was kneeling and straddling Hutch’s lap, gun in one hand as the other caressed the smooth tanned chest. Hutch closed his eyes in horror and tried to take his mind away from the terrible scene.

‘Yes, I know you. Guy Sanchez’ he said, keeping his voice as calm as he could. ‘World famous super model. You had everything’.

The hand stopped it’s exploration and Sanchez stood, as if being reminded of his current situation had somehow broken the spell he was falling under.

‘Had everything. Had’ he spat. ‘Yes, I was one of the beautiful people once. And yes I had everything and then I made one small mistake. One lousy mistake and it was all ripped away from me’. He ran his hand lasciviously through Hutch’s flaxen hair and the bound blond stared back at him, his ice blue eyes unwavering. Guy avoided the penetrating gaze and stood.

He went quickly back to the girl in the corner and kneeled beside her. Roughly he took her chin in his hand and forced her head up so that she looked at him. She squealed in alarm and horror and he pushed her away.

‘Look at that. Did you hear the horror? Did you see the look in her eyes? Once upon a time she would have fallen at my feet. She’d have been one of the crowds of beauties who followed me everywhere. They wanted to touch me. Wanted me to touch them, just so that they could say they’d met the great Guy Sanchez. And now…..now she won’t even look at my face!’ he laughed hysterically and back handed the woman across her face, knocking her sideways until she was sprawling on the floor.

Like an animal he was upon her, roughly rolling her onto her back as she froze like a rabbit in the headlights of a car. He reached for her skirt, pushing it up over her thighs and took a hold of her underwear, tearing it away from her. She screamed once and it tailed away into another forlorn sob as she tried to kick him away, but her efforts were feeble and useless as her previous injuries made her weak and dizzy. The bound men watched in sick fascination as Sanchez prepared her for his entertainment, their hearts hammering in their chests as they tried to decide what best to do.

In the flickering light of the shed, Hutch looked across to Starsky and for the first time in their lives, their eyes locked, silently communicating. It was as though they'd known each other for years instead of a scant few days and could perfectly read each other'’ minds.

‘Gotta distract him’.

‘Yeah? So what ya gonna do Starsky?’

‘Try an’ kick him. Take his mind off of her’.

‘Can you reach? You’re pretty tied up there buddy’

‘Dunno. Gotta try somethin’’

‘He’ll turn on you’.

‘Better me than her’.

‘O shit Starsk. Be careful’

‘You gonna watch my back Blintz?’

‘Wouldn’t have it any other way – partner’.

As Sanchez stood to unzip his pants, Starsky took hold of the chains at his back, fumbling the cold metal with his almost numb hands. Bending his knees, he levered his legs until his feet were almost beneath his and he was nearly squatting on the ground. With a superhuman effort, he leaned forward, using the chain as a lever and pulled himself upright, feeling the muscles in his shoulders and arms crack with the strain. Using the momentum he’d derived from his movements, and with his legs still bound together, he jumped into the air and landed a double footed kick at Sanchez’ back, sending the man forward, plunging into the door of the shed.

Starsky fell back towards the ground, but the chain brought him up short, yanking his arms up behind him cruelly in a kind of ‘strapido’ action and he felt and heard a sickening tearing noise and knew his right shoulder had dislocated. Despite his best efforts at keeping quiet, he cried out in pain and as the shoulder continued to throb, he deposited the remains of his supper onto the shed floor, retching until his stomach felt as though it was making an escape through his tonsils.

Sanchez’ head had struck the rough wooden door of the shed and as he picked himself up and turned, Hutch could see that he was bleeding from a large cut across his forehead. He leered angrily at the dangling brunette and with predator like grace he crossed the small space to the panting brunette.

Taking a handful of the dark curls, he pulled Starsky’s head back until the ligaments in the olive toned neck stood out proud. Indigo eyes stared at him through the pain as the bound man tried desperately to get his knees under him to take the terrible pressure off his injured shoulder. Sanchez reached for the injury and dug his thumb into the dislocated joint, watching as Starsky jangled like a marionette at the end of the chain.

The brunette let out another agonised cry as Hutch tried to stop the contents of his own stomach from making their re-appearance.

‘Hey Sanchez. Are you too chicken to fight anyone who isn’t chained or beaten to a pulp?’ he goaded, trying to get the man away from his injured friend. ‘You’re so screwed up because women won’t fuck ya without a paper sack over your head. Is that it? Is it? Jeez Sanchez, look at yourself!’ Hutch warmed to the task of getting the flake’s attention and slowly Sanchez let his injured friend alone, his face dark and angry as he crawled towards Hutch. Starsky got to his knees, leaning forward to try to alleviate the terrible pain in his shoulder and shook his head slowly.

Hutch watched as the evil man crawled towards him, the gun now cocked and ready to fire. He crept up the length of the bound blonde’s body until his face was scant inches from Hutch’s and very slowly he brought the gun up. He pressed the muzzle against Hutch’s closed lips.

‘Eat it’ he said, mashing the cold metal against the tender flesh. Hutch’s eyes widened in fear, but he refused to open his lips. Sanchez pinched Hutch’s nose, effectively sealing off the blonde’s airways. Hutch’s cold eyes stared at his attacker, goading the man into making his next move. But without oxygen, the blond started to feel the agonising fluttering in his stomach as his lungs started to cry out for air. He held out as long as he could, until the world took on a red haze and his vision was beginning to narrow to a pinprick, before finally gasping for breath.

It was the chance Sanchez needed and quick as a flash he pushed the muzzle of his gun into Hutch’s mouth with a grin, watching in satisfaction as the blond swallowed and gagged on the foreign object.

Chapter 7

Hutch blinked with watering eyes at the man now only inches away from his face, The gun barrel filled his mouth, stretching his jaw wide and Sanchez had pushed it so far in that on occasion it touched the back of his throat and he gagged, retching and heaving past the bitter tasting metal.

With horror, his ice blue eyes tracked the man’s thumb as it flicked off the red safety button on the side of the weapon and his index finger moved inexorably towards the trigger. Beads of sweat prickled on his forehead and the bridge of his nose and trickles ran into his eyes, stinging them, but he refused to blink, fixing his would be killer with a steely stare as he called on reserves of bravery he never knew he had.

The finger moved forward again, resting now on the dark grey trigger and the blond could see the pulse throbbing rapidly in Sanchez’s wrist as the grotesque face leered at him.

Sanchez licked his lips. He’d never gotten over the thrill of the kill; of the fearful look in his victim’s eyes as they pleaded with him for their lives. He breathed in the girls’ screams as they writhed below him on the ground and he toyed with his gun above them, letting them see the shape, the texture and the sheer brutality of the weapon. He’d never shot them; never shot anyone, but he liked to use the weapon as a club, driving blow after blow into their soft flesh until the light left their eyes and they stopped their infernal whimpering. In fact he’d never fired a weapon in his life, but he loved the cruel weight in his hands. He loved their pleas ringing in his ears as they tried feebly to bargain for their lives. He lived for the moment just before he bludgeoned them to death when he could smell their fear on the air like some powerful aphrodisiac and he waited now for that moment to come.

Hutch stared back up the barrel of the gun at the madman. He was scared beyond belief, but he refused to let Sanchez see that, channelling his feelings into anger instead. His ice blue eyes burned with a cold fire as he willed Guy to stop and put the gun down, but Sanchez was implacable and the battle of wills continued.

From his corner of the room, Starsky watched in sick fascination as the drama played out before him. He’d managed to get his knees under him now and had taken some of the weight off of his injured arm, although both were still pulled up behind him and when he swayed, electric shocks of white hot fire lanced through his shoulder and the top of his chest and back. But he’d managed to calm his breathing and now he tried to think of some way to stop Sanchez from ending what he had a feeling could be a long and fruitful partnership.

The brunette licked at the trickle of sweat that ran down the side of his face, the salty fluid lingering on his tongue. He breathed as deep as he could and tried to clear his head of the pain and the distraction of the woman weeping in the corner. She’d moved so that her skirt had once again covered her modesty and was now lying with her back to the rest of the group, trying to shut out her ordeal.

Without the possibility of getting himself free to overpower the man, Starsky knew he had to fall back on his wits. He’d always been able to fight. Since his earliest days running the streets of New York he’d had to watch out both for himself and Nicky, his younger brother. But after the first three or four black eyes and busted lips, he learned that there was something even more powerful than a Starsky fist. In the years that followed, although he was still ready to fight to preserve the family honour, he’d used his voice to his advantage, talking himself and Nicky out of more situations than he cared to remember. In fact his Dad had once wryly observed that young Davey would be a good hostage negotiator when he got older.

If ever there was a time when he’d have to hone his skills, it was now, and he tried to prepare himself and put David Starsky into the mind of burned, scarred and bitter Guy Sanchez.

‘You’ll never have a piece of him if ya kill him’.

The words floated on the air between the men. Starsky’s voice was raw and husky with pain and emotion, but the sentiment had the desired effect and as Hutch’s eyes widened, Sanchez slowly withdrew the gun from between the dry lips. Hutch sagged back against his bonds, and licked his stretched lips, but never took his eyes off of his assailant.

‘What did you say?’ Sanchez asked.

‘What’s the use of a dead body? I thought the idea was you wanted a little…erm….distraction’ Starsky said, hoping he wasn’t going to have to put Sanchez’s sick perversions into practice.

‘Is that what you think this is? A distraction?’ Sanchez grunted, placing the gun against the side of the trembling blonde’s temple. Hutch gasped as the now warmed metal dug into the side of his head and he finally closed his eyes on the world, not wanting Starsky to see the fear in them he felt as though he’d betrayed their budding friendship by giving into his emotions. But he knew he was almost at the end of his reserves and he just wanted the night to end. Preferably with them all in one piece, but if not, then he hoped that at least the curly haired guy and the girl would make it.

‘Don’t do it pal’ Starsky said calmly and levelly.

‘Don’t call me pal. I’m no pal of yours. D’ya think you’d want me for a friend? Huh? Could you walk down the street with this face next to you?’ Guy pointed at his burns. ‘No-one wants to know me any more. No-one wants you when you’re not beautiful’.

‘That’s not true an’ you know it’.

Sanchez snorted. ‘Are ya gonna give me that sanctimonious pep talk about how it’s what’s on the inside that counts? Coz I’ve heard it a million times; from those creeps at the hospital and the psychologists, psychiatrists. All eager to take my money, but they do shit about my looks. They didn’t care that my face was my fortune. So don’t you, with your pretty face and you’re perfect tan and your cute little curls, don’t you tell me it’s what’s on the inside that counts, because you know fuck all’.

‘So you’re gonna take it out on Blondie over there. Just coz he’s good lookin’? Is that it Guy? Just coz he’s got blond hair an’ blue eyes. Coz if you do him, then there’s hundreds, no thousands of blondes out there that’ll take his place. An’ every time you look at ‘em you’re gonna remember his ice blue eyes starin’ at ya from over the barrel of that gun, accusing you every time you close your eyes. Every single time you lay your head down to sleep, he’ll be there, staring right back at ya. Don’t do it man. Don’t pull the trigger’.

The gun wavered in Sanchez’s hand and Hutch opened his eyes and re-commenced his staring, willing his assailant to put down the weapon.

Starsky was continuing. ‘You pull the trigger an’ you’re gonna see his face, brains blown all over the wall, from now till eternity. Believe me man, I’ve been there. ‘Nam was no picnic. I’ve been within smellin’ distance of a guy and pulled my trigger an’ I know how it feels. Someone who you’ve never met, that you’ll never know. And the bloods on your hands. Hutch means shit to you Guy. You don’t wanna do this, believe me’.

He saw the gun lower a fraction and pressed home his advantage.

‘That’s it, Sanchez. Put the gun down. Nice an’ easy. Just put the gun down and step away. You can do it. It’s not hard. Just lower the gun’ Starsky continued crooning low and gentle, the words having no meaning now, as Sanchez was lulled by the sound of the voice.

At long last he lowered the gun away from Hutch’s head and looked with glazed eyes at the man he’d just threatened. He’d never killed a man before. The girls were different. They deserved to die for all they’d done to him, but a man? He glared at the gun in his hand and looked back at the blond.

It was as if he saw Hutch for the first time, and he studied the flaxen hair, the tanned, unscarred face and the sky blue eyes, but they slowly morphed into another face. A face led next to him on a pillow millions of years ago. The face was laughing at him as the girl held the spliff, and the anger from all those painful operations, the months of rehabilitation and the counselling welled up inside him.

With a yell, and before anyone could think to do something about it, he raised the gun again and brought it crashing down on the side of the blonde’s head. Hutch had chance to make one, blood curdling cry before blackness overtook him and his unconscious body sagged against his bonds.

Like a madman, Sanchez stood, yelling unintelligibly. His eyes were wild with madness and his lips were white as they curled back from his teeth. He stood in the middle of the confined space, his head thrust back as he shouted at the rafters, before kicking out once again at the limp blond form and running for the door.

Sanchez threw the door open and burst out into the night, still yelling at the heavens, his mind finally sinking into its tortured madness. He closed the door behind him and Starsky heard the sounds of locks being operated as he looked desperately back at his friend.

There was a trickle of blood running down the side of Hutch’s face, dripping from one of the golden bangs and landing on the torn pale blue denim shirt. The eyes were closed but Starsky could see the chest still rising and falling, indicating his friend was at least ok for the moment. He knelt in his uncomfortable position and waited, hearing the mad gun wielding man’s cries in the distance as he tried to decide what, if anything, they could do next.

Perhaps a half an hour later, his knees now having lost most of their feeling, he heard a low pitiful groan from the other side of the shed. Painfully, the brunette turned in that general direction and was rewarded with a sight of Hutch’s ice blues, peeking out from under drooping eyelids.

‘Hutch? You ok?’

The blond opened his eyes wider, wincing at the pains threatening to topple his head from his shoulders.

‘D don’t feel so good’ he stammered as he tried to rub his head, remembering belatedly that he was tied. ‘Jeez, what happened?’

‘Um, our friend got a little mad and ran off into the night’.

‘Yeah? He coulda taken my head with him. F feels like it doesn’t belong to me any more. Did he shoot?’ Hutch’s voice asked, fear mingling in the question.

‘Nah. He didn’t shoot. I kinda talked him out of it. But he walloped you good and proper’.

Hutch brought his head up and looked at his new friend with unfocussed eyes.

‘Two things. F first, thanks for p persuading him not to shoot, Second. Couldn’t you have stopped him p playing piñata with my head?’

Chapter 8

There was silence in the small shed as both men tried to calm the beating of their hearts after the intense emotions of the past quarter of an hour. Hutch felt dizzy with relief. He had never, in his entire life felt as scared as he had when Sanchez had put the gun in his mouth. At the time, he had felt fear, of course, but something else also. There was an icy calmness he’d never know before as the incident was happening. His mind was clearer than it had ever been and his resolve had never been stronger. He had an overbearing need to make sure that Sanchez did not win; that the mad man would not have the satisfaction of seeing the fear he was instilling in the blond.

The last time he’d felt anything akin to the powerful emotions was when, as a medical student, he’d experienced his first code blue in the ER. He’d been a junior intern and had only been in the department for two weeks, during which time he’d had a boring string of cut fingers, migraines and broken arms to deal with. And then the call had gone out for the crash trolley and he’d been whisked away from his patient by his mentor and taken into the small Resuscitation room. He’d stared in awe at the capable team working around the supine body of a young man. He was a biker and the leathers he wore had been cut away as the medics assessed his extensive injuries. Now they worked over him to establish his breathing and heart beat again, and Hutch was pushed to the side of the table and ordered to commence compressions. He’d stood on a small stool to give him the necessary height, had cupped his left hand in his right and felt for the correct place, hearing in his head the tutor’s voice two thirds down the sternum and half a hands breadth to the left. And then he started, artificially pumping the young victim’s blood around his body while he sung that bloody stupid song. Nellie the elephant packed her trunk and said goodbye to the circus. The words meant nothing and the tune was crazy, but the rhythm was right and the words accompanied the 15 beats needed before the two squeezes of the air bag.

He had no idea of how long he’d continued, but sweat dripped from his hair and eyelashes until the senior resident called stop. We have sinus. And Hutch was pushed away as the rest of the team continued to work. He’d felt drained, tired beyond belief and sick. But he’d also felt elated, just like now.

Hutch had achieved something that he’d never known was in him and it pleased him enormously. He could achieve, even if the eminent consultant Dr Richard Hutchinson saw nothing in his son but failure and disappointment

Now that it was over, the adrenaline that had fired his reactions was ebbing away and the absence of the catalyst left him feeling drained, sick and dizzy. His legs felt like rubber and he was glad that he didn’t have the opportunity to stand because he didn’t think he would be able to. He heaved deep claming breaths and tried to remember the yoga techniques he’d practised since he was a teenager and had gotten in with the “beautiful crowd”.

Starsky too was feeling the relief from the past 15 minutes. He hadn’t had to think so quickly on his feet for quite some time now and he too sagged against his bonds. As he closed his eyes and tried to relax and ignore the pains in his right shoulder, he saw again the brown eyes of the young Vietnamese staring back at him.

Starsky had been drafted at 18. No age really, but the average age of the men in ‘Nam was 19 and the draftees had had to grown up quickly. Starsky, having come first from the rough streets of New York had taken the Army in his stride and although he didn’t exactly enjoy the rigours of the life, the commitment and the discipline of the outfit held a certain appeal for the hot headed boy.

Early on, he had been singled out as a good marksman and had been give special training and he had been one of a group who ran covert missions behind enemy lines.

It was on one of those missions that his team had been surrounded by a group of young Vietnamese. They had no means of escape and their CO had tried his damndest to talk his way out of the situation, but to no avail. Of the six-man team, four had been gunned down while Starsky and his teammate, Tom (Traff) Trafford had taken cover behind a thick stand of trees. As the firing died down, they thought they may be free to make a run back to base camp. As they cautiously got up and turned, a young Vietnamese boy, looking no more than 14 pushed a gun into Traff’s face, bringing the man up short. Starsky raised his rifle immediately and the young boy switched targets, aiming now at the brunette’s head in a stand off.

‘Thôi đi!, bo cái thói oy đi!’ he said firmly (drop it). But the boy continued to aim his own, dilapidated gun at the curly haired soldier. In a moment of time expanded by fear and reaction, he saw the boy’s finger move towards the trigger and knew it was either the boy or his own life. Swallowing the bile down, he squeezed the trigger and watched in horror as the young boy’s eyes flared wide in surprise and then disappeared as the body was blown backwards by the force of the shot, it landing, almost headless five yards away.

The memory of those eyes haunted Starsky even now, almost five years later and the predicament he’d just talked them out of was too close to the original. His head dropped in despair and exhaustion and his body started to fall forward, being brought up short by the chain still suspending his arms from the ceiling.

‘Ungh…..Oh God’ he cried out, unable to stop himself. He was back in Vietnam and the horrors and the nightmares were back with him in full force as he ground his teeth together. He was back in that fucking cage naked and waiting for his tormentors; he was thin and hungry, standing in front of the sumptuous dinner laid out for the officer’s enjoyment while he had nothing; he was tied down as they systematically removed his finger and toe nails or waterboarded him.

Starsky shook his head, trying to rid himself of the old demons and his body shook, jangling the chains binding him.

Hutch watched the steady transformation from brave, resourceful and controlled young man to the shivering wreck and knew he had to do something.

‘Starsky?’

There was no answer as the curly haired guy continued struggling against the chains holding him, whimpering in his dark, painful world.

‘Hey Starsk. Look at me’.

Still nothing.

It scared the blond that Starsky should be so entrenched in his memories and in desperation he cast about, seeing the girl still curled up in her corner, seemingly oblivious to the world.

‘Hey’ he called to her, realising he didn’t even know her name. She ignored him and he tried again.

‘Honey, I need you to untie me. Hey….in the corner. C’mon love, untie me then I can see to my friend.

The small body uncurled and the girl look hesitantly over her shoulder at him. He smiled in what he hoped was a non-threatening way at her.

‘That’s it honey. What’s your name?’

She pushed herself up until she was turned to face the handsome blond who’d tried, with his friend’ to save her.

‘Erin’.

He smiled again. ‘Hi Erin. I’m K…Hutch. Can you come over here and untie me huh? I need to see to my buddy over there’.

Slowly she moved over to him and he felt her shaking hands working at the knots of the twine around his wrists. It took some time as the cord was strong and his pulling at it had tightened the knots, but eventually he felt his arms released and he groaned softly as the circulation started to return. He reached down to untape his ankles, but when his hands touched the tape he felt as though electric shocks were coursing up his arms and he yelped. Erin shuffled around and worked at the tape until Hutch’s legs too were free.

He reached up to touch her blood streaked face, knowing she was in pain, and smiled. ‘You’re very brave honey. Thanks’.

She dropped her eyes in embarrassment and Hutch shuffled over on stiff legs to his friend. Starsky was still whimpering and twisting in his bonds, his eyes closed and his face screwed up in pain as he relived the painful memories.

Hutch reached up hesitantly and touched the tear streaked face.

‘Starsky?’ There was no reaction, but he felt the shaking body.

‘STARSKY. FRONT AND CENTRE NOW’. Hutch thundered in a passable imitation of their drill sergeant, O’Malley.

It got the brunette’s attention and very slowly the head came up, indigo eyes blinking as slowly they focussed on his friend. Hutch met his stormy eyes unflinchingly.

‘Where’d ya go there Starsk?’

The shaking man grunted. ‘Memories….flashbacks. Sorry’ he mumbled as he shook his head once more and looked away so that the blond didn’t see the terror in his eyes.

Hutch hesitated and then put his arms around the still bound man, hugging him. He had no idea what reaction Starsky would have. He had never made a habit of hugging men and he hated the thought of his new friend getting the wrong idea. But instead of pulling away, the brunette's body leaned against his friend and Starsky rested his curly head on Hutch’s shoulder as he breathed deep, accepting the comforting gesture in the spirit in which it was offered.

The two men stayed huddled together for some time, giving and accepting the touch of the other. Eventually, however, Starsky pushed himself up and sat back on his heels.

‘Hey, don’t do that again huh?’ Hutch said shakily. ‘Not good. I don’t want to do this alone. I need ya buddy’.

A lop-sided grin appeared on the handsome face. ‘Ok. I’m back with ya now. You need me? Yeah, well. I guess we need each other. Kinda like the idea. Like real partners. Me an’ Thee huh?’ a shadow fell over his face. ‘I’m not a screw up ya know’.

Hutch nodded, chuckling. ‘I know buddy. We’ve all got demons. Here, let me help you’.

Hutch stood on shaky legs and tottered towards the pulley that Sanchez had used to hoist Starsky’s arms up behind him. Very slowly he released the tension and the brunette’s arms and the lithe body fell forward onto the floor with another yelp of pain.

‘I think your shoulder might be dislocated’ Hutch said, feeling around the joint as Starsky ground his teeth together, controlling the pain.

‘Ya think?’ It took a lot of self-control to stop from crying out, but the brunette clamped his mouth closed and panted through his nose as his friend finished his examination.

‘I can’t do anything for it now. I’d need both your arms free, and um….Sanchez has the key to the chains buddy. Sorry’ the medic in the blond was coming out and he hated seeing his friend in pain.

‘S’ok’ Starsky panted. ‘Feels better now I can lie down. Now what d’we do?’

As he said it, both men stiffened, hearing movements outside in the undergrowth. As they froze, they heard Sanchez’s mad voice one last time.

‘Beauty must die’ and a mad cackle.

And the sound of a match striking against it’s box.

Chapter 9

‘Ssh. What was that?’ the men froze as they listened to the mad ranting and the scratching coming from outside their prison. As Hutch crouched near his still chained friend, he suddenly felt a presence at his side.

Erin had crawled over to the two men and was huddling close to them, scared and hurting as she was. The poor girl had spent the vast amount of the ordeal with her eyes closed, trying to block out the horror around her. When she’d been left in the bushes as Hutch was forced to drag his unconscious buddy away through the undergrowth, she’d tried hard to get up and run away. She’d managed to lever herself to her feet and had started to make her weary and wobbly way back down the path, but the blood running down her face had blinded her eyes and the concussion she’d suffered as Sanchez beat her around the head with the butt of his gun made her spacey and dizzy. Her progress was pitifully slow and when the madman had come back for her she’d managed to get only so far as the big iron gates and was desperately trying to force her weary battered body to climb up them.

Sanchez had taken hold of her around the hips and had pulled her back down from the ironwork, backhanding her across the face and sending her sprawling back down on the ground. Cruelly he pulled her along by her hair as she tried frantically to get her feet beneath her so that her knees no longer dragged along the rough gravel path and he’d thrown her bodily into the shed.

His hands on her thighs, ripping her clothes was more than she could bear and finally her mind had closed down, choosing to ignore the horror the indignity of the assault. It wasn’t for several minutes after Starsky’s intervention that she realised that Sanchez had stopped his sickening exploration of her body and had turned his attention to the two men. She’d turned her back on the shed and its occupants and had tried to comprehend what was happening and why it was happening to her.

Now she sat as close as she could to the two men, insinuating herself between the bodies of the blond and his injured comrade, needing to feel safe and secure as the noises continued outside.

‘S’ok Erin. We’ll be fine’ Hutch lied as he looked around the shed seeing only shadows dancing in the light of the storm lamp. There was no means of escape; no window to force and any tools which Sanchez might have kept in the shed were long since gone. The only exit was the door and they’d heard the man locking the locks.

To satisfy his own curiosity, Hutch stood and tried the rough wooden door, leaning into it with his shoulder. It wouldn’t move and he took a step back, kicking at it with his powerful leg. He received nothing for his trouble but a tooth jangling shock up his leg and into his hip. He turned disgustedly and looked back at the girl and the curly haired man.

The sounds outside continued and he could still hear the mad rambling as Sanchez continued to mutter to himself, but now, more worrying, he thought he could smell burning.

Hutch took the storm lamp down off its hook and checked out the corners of the cabin. He was beginning to think that all was secure and that he’d imagined the smell when he saw the first tendril of smoke appearing through one of the cracks in the shed’s wall.

Within moments, he saw another and another, realising with horror that Sanchez had set a fire outside the building and that he intended to treat the occupants to the same experience he’d had in his bed. It occurred to Hutch that Sanchez, in his sickness, probably thought that it was poetic justice that he should burn to death the very people he was calling “pretty”. He shook his head and started to look around more frantically.

‘Starsk, he’s set a fire’ the blond muttered. He could see the brunette already smelled the smoke, his eyes watering. He struggled to sit up and hesitantly Erin took hold of his uninjured shoulder and helped him.

‘Try the door again’ Starsky grunted, pulling feverishly at the chains around his wrists. 'Maybe you can break it down’.

Hutch went back to the obstinate exit and aimed another kick at it. There were flames now appearing at the base of the shed, and the air inside was getting decidedly smoky. All three occupants were now gasping and coughing as Erin stood and added her meagre weight to the process of trying to knock down the door.

Again and again Hutch kicked out at the wood, his knees taking the brunt of the punishment. There was no movement in the door and he looked back at the brunette who was still on the floor.

Starsky, who was closest to the flames was trying to shuffle himself away from the main seat of the conflagration, his eyes smarting and streaming as the smoke filled the room, rising higher and higher.

As Hutch kicked again, the flames started to break through the wooden walls, sparks flying across the enclosed space and setting light to the dry sacks piled up in the corner. Hutch took one of the empty sacks and gave it to the girl.

‘Erin, if you see any sparks, beat at them with this. It may buy us a little more time’ he instructed, pushing the sack into her hands, She nodded mutely and started her attack on the bright red embers flying through the air.

Now the smoke was getting more dense and the flames were beginning to break through the walls. With a grunt and a superhuman effort, Starsky managed to get to his feet and the extra chain from the pulley allowed him to pull back from the flames as he coughed and gasped.

‘Now would be a good time buddy’ he shouted above the crackles and hisses of the fire as it continued to take hold.

‘Believe me, no-one wants out of here more than I do’ the desperate blond shouted back. His face was streaked with grime and his blue eyes were red rimmed from the smoke and still he continued to batter at the door.

As he took another running kick at it, he was sure he felt something give and he redoubled his efforts, kicking out his long leg time after time until suddenly he heard the welcome sound of splintering wood.

Behind him, he heard the girl give one more choking cough. She’d valiantly beaten at every ember she’d seen, but the hours of abuse at Sanchez’s hands and the wounds that had been inflicted on her made her resistance weak. With a final gurgling cry, she fell to the ground, overcome by the smoke in the building. Consumed now by a zeal for battering down the door, Hutch gave his own blood curdling cry and launched himself bodily at it, his shoulder bruising against the recalcitrant wood, but finally he felt the whole of the door move and with one final kick, it stove in and Hutch fell bodily into the night air.

The inrush of oxygen to the shed fuelled the flames, which were now starting to lick up all four walls and onto the roof. Inside, the building was dark with smoke and the blond could hear the hacking coughing as Starsky pulled to the very limit of the chain’s length away from the fire.

Hutch ignored his own safety and plunged back into the burning building. He took hold of the brunette and spun him around, seeing the dirty face, streaked with the involuntary tears from the stinging smoke. Starsky looked grey both from the smoke and from the pain in his shoulder and Hutch pulled ineffectually at the chain still attached to the roof.

‘Get the girl’ Starsky yelled at him as he nodded at Erin’s limp body on the ground.

Reluctantly, Hutch left his friend and crouched to take hold of the girl’s shoulders to drag her out. He’d almost forgotten the injury to his own back in the mad rush of getting them all out and as he bent he felt something crunch and a lancing pain shot up his spin and rattled at his teeth. Trying to ignore the pains, which were taking his breath away, he grasped the girl’s body and slowly pulled her clear of the building and the flames, backing up until they were a safe distance from the fire before easing her down on the ground and rolling her onto her side.

He knew he should really check to see if she was still breathing, but the thought of the bound, chained brunette still in the midst of the flames drove him on and he stood slowly, unable to straighten up completely because of the pains threatening to cut off his breathing.

Hutch staggered back towards the flaming shed. The fire burned with a vengeance now and he felt the heat from yards way. He put his hand up to shield his face and plunged back through the doorway. Starsky’s body was on the floor now, face down in the smoke, the chain around his wrists biting deeply into the flesh. It was obvious that the brunette had tried again and again to pull his hands free and the bright links were stained red with blood. As Hutch reached down to his buddy to grasp the chain, he felt it burning and hot and he pulled away involuntarily, seeing the scorch marks across the palms of his hands. Ignoring the blisters that were beginning to form immediately he winced at the thought. If the chain burned his hands when he held it, what was it doing at Starsky’s wrists?

But more urgent was the need to get the smaller guy out of the flames. He reached up and tugged at the chains of the pulley to which the brunette’s wrists were still attached. It was as solid as ever and there was no give in the brutal metal. He pulled again and then tried to pull his friend’s body away. But the length of the chain only permitted limited movement and there was no way he could clear the body from the fire.

His hands lingered a moment on the curly head and Starsky coughed weakly.

‘Hu..tch. Get out……not worth…..both dyin’

‘Don’t be so bloody stupid’ Hutch yelled at him. ‘I can’t leave you. Just hang on. Gonna try something’

Hutch went back to the splintered door and stamped on the wood, breaking off a sizeable plank. Quickly he brought it back into the building and started pounding at the ceiling at the point where the pulley attached to the wood. At first there was no movement and the blond was about to give up and try a different approach when he thought he heard a splintering noise. With renewed effort he tried again, pounding upwards time after time until suddenly the rafter, along with the pulley fixing collapsed to the ground.

In a flash, Hutch picked up the now unconscious body of his friend by the shoulders and started to back out of the building, trailling the pulley, rafter and chain with him, but as he got towards the door, he felt a great heat and stopped to look behind him.

The fire had continued apace and now the open doorway was blocked by a sheet of flames. The blond laughed hysterically. What else could go wrong on this super night out in the big city.

He knew what he had to do and he stooped, slinging the limp form over his shoulder. The pain from his back made him scream out in agony, and Hutch continued to scream with each step as he backed up to the middle of the shed. With a fatalistic last look round, Hutch hitched the body further up on his shoulder and with a cry any warrior would be proud of he closed his eyes and ran as fast as he could through the bright red flames carrying his precious cargo with him.

Despite the agonising pains in his back, the blond didn’t stop running until he was well clear of the shed and he no longer felt the immediate heat of the flames. Wearily and painfully he deposited his burden down on the ground. Starsky’s body was made all the heavier by the long wooden rafter and length of chain that Hutch had also been forced to carry out of the shed and as he looked back he could see the wood of the rafter was beginning to catch alight. He forced himself up and trampled on the wood, stamping out the fledgling flames until he was sure that they wouldn’t ignite again and then, with a desperate sigh, his body crumpled and he too feel insensate to the ground.

Chapter 10

It was the cool breeze over her abraded skin which first awoke Erin to consciousness, and for a brief moment she panicked wondering where the hell she was. She felt the cool damp earth beneath her and as she tried to roll over the sparks of pain across her body reminded of the various injuries her body carried.

Sitting up quickly was a big mistake, but it enabled her scared eyes to scan the immediate vicinity for any signs of Sanchez, frantically checking that he was no longer around. Her confused mind tried to go back over the events of the past 12 hours.

She remembered going to the Seven Eleven for some milk. She came out of the shop and walked slowly back towards her apartment and then she remembered a blow to the back of her head. Waking up next time, she was in the park with the madman standing over her wielding his gun. In a tremulous voice she’d tried to reason with him; to tell him that he was making a big mistake and that if he let her go she’d keep the attack to herself and tell no-one. But of course Sanchez hadn’t believed her and when she got the first proper look at his face, she’d screamed loudly, appalled at the ravaged features and sickly white, shiny skin. He’d clamped his hand over her mouth, silencing her cries and threatening to cut off her air supply, her screams goading him on to more and more acts of cruelty.

At first he’s been happy to kneel over her and watch the terrified look in her eyes, but as she’d started to try to talk to him again, his hands had started to wander over her body, creeping over her breasts and trying to delve between her legs. She’d kept them tight together to begin with, but he’d used his knee to push at her until she could resist no longer and he’d gained access to her intimate areas.

She whimpered in the early morning quiet now as she thought about the sickening feel of his fingers working between her legs as she’d gritted her teeth. She’d told him lies – that it was the wrong time of month; that she was pregnant. But her words seemed to inflame him more and his touch turned from caresses to pain as he probed deeper and deeper. When she’d screamed again, he’d taken to hitting her around the head with the butt of his gun, forcing her to look at the roses around them in the garden, his hands firm on her head. His words played over in her mind like a sick record.

Roses are red

Violets are blue

I’m burned and scarred

Soon you will be too

He had reached for the zip of his trousers, licking his lips in anticipation of the screams she would yell for him as he violated her and he’d knelt above her in preparation when they both heard the sounds of the two young men approaching.

For Erin, it was the sweetest sound in the world and as she saw them come towards her, her mind closed down from pain and exhaustion. For Sanchez, the footsteps heralded the end of his conquest and he’d gotten up quickly, fastening his trousers and heading for the shadows.

The next thing she remembered was those beautiful faces peering down at her with concern shining in their eyes. At first she’d been scared that they too would want a piece of her, and she’d refused to look them in the eyes. But the one with the curly hair had covered her with his jacket and the blond one had been kind, his soft hands easing her head so that he could pillow it on a jacket smelling of Paco Rabanne aftershave and she felt she could trust them.

When Sanchez had come back for her and thrown her back into the shed, she’d taken one quick look at her two saviours and had been dismayed at the shape they were in. While the blond one – did he call himself… Hitch….no, Hutch – was tied to one side of the shed, the curly dark one was chained, like an animal to the other side. Both men’s faces were streaked with dirt and she was sorry that they’d had to be part of Sanchez’s mad plans.

When they had diverted his attention from her once more, she’d lost it completely. She saw the curly one kick out at Guy and could hear the moans, groans and grunts of the scuffle that took place afterwards. And then the voices trying to reason with Guy, low and intense, but then she’d shut down completely until Hutch had pleaded with her to help him in the burning building.

She looked around again now, shivering in the cold hour before the dawn. Her eyes scanned the area and stopped, seeing the bodies of both men a little way off. Very stiffly she got to her feet, her head pounding and the large cut above her eye beginning to bleed again. She ignored the pains as best she could and limped over to see what condition they were in. She could see the shed was still ablaze and she was terrified that in saving her, one or both men might have given their own lives.

In trepidation she knelt by the side of the blond man, although his once luminously flaxen hair was now dark and grimy, the bangs plastered against his head by blood and sweat. His eyes were closed and he had a streak of blood down the side of his face from a deep cut that she could see glistening in the midst of the blond hairs on his scalp. She gently put her hand on his shoulder and nudged him and was rewarded by a guttural grunt but nothing more. Hutch’s eyes stayed closed, but his breathing deepened a little. She looked down his body. His shirt was torn and singed in places and it was open at the front revealing a chest blackened by dirt and with livid burns shining red across the otherwise tanned, flat plane of muscle.

Remembering her first aid training, she reached for his right hand to feel the pulse and as she lifted it she saw a large fluid filled blister across the palm. She reached for his left hand and found a similar blister there. He must have got hold of something very hot in the shed. But feeling for his pulse she found it slow and steady and cautiously she nudged him again, leaning forward to whisper in his ear.

‘Hutch, wake up. Please wake up’ she hissed in his ear.

Very slowly the blond head rolled from side to side and she got her first look at his red rimmed ice blue eyes. They stared at her for a moment and then the memory returned.

‘Erin. Are you…..’ he was assailed by a fit of coughing that seemed to go on for ever and eventually he turned away and spat black soot onto the ground. Wiping his hand over his mouth and panting he turned back to the girl.

‘You OK honey?’

She nodded and helped him to try to sit up, but the pain in his back made him cry out and he leaned back on his elbow, gasping.

‘Ungh……hurts’ he gritted his teeth against the pain and looked at the still, limp form of his friend. ‘Check on him will ya?’ he gasped.

Erin crawled over to the curly haired man, dismayed that his hands were still brutally chained behind his back. As she got a good look, she realised that where the metal had become too hot, it had burned into the already bloody skin around Starsky’s wrists and large blisters had formed along and around the links. The dark haired man was lying more or less on his side and his grimy face was semi turned away from her.

Gently she smoothed the curls away from his forehead and patted the cheek, but there was no response. In fact she could hardly feel any breath and in panic she went swiftly back to the blond who by now had managed to pry himself up into a sitting position.

‘I don’t think he’s too good’ she mumbled. ‘He won’t wake up and he looks awful’.

Hutch reached up a hand to her and she helped him stand, wincing at the yelp he gave as his back protested. He limped over to his friend and knelt painfully down by his side, checking the pulse in the grimy neck and noticing in passing the injuries to the wrists.

The pulse was slow and weak, but it was there and he leaned closer to the man on the ground.

‘Starsky? C’mon buddy, wake up. Starsky, I need you to open your eyes. Dave? David’. Hutch tried every name he could think of to try to rouse the injured man and very slowly, the indigo eyes cracked open, staring unfocussed at the ground ahead of him. He groaned.

‘Hey Starsk. That’s a boy. C’mon, stay with me, pal’.

‘Hu..tch?’ The voice was raw and rasping as it struggled from a throat burned and sore with smoke.

‘Yeah, welcome back buddy. I thought you were out for the count there. D’ya wanna try to sit up?’

‘No. Wanna die’ Starsky mumbled. ‘What happened?’

Hutch tried to help him to sit up, but the combination of bound arms and injured back was too much, and gently Erin stepped in and held the brunette’s body up, careful to avoid his dislocated shoulder.

‘Nice night by the fireside’ the curly haired man wheezed as he looked at the blaze behind him and relief flooded through his body.

‘Is everyone ok?’ It hurt to speak and he kept his sentences short, trying desperately to quell the hacking cough that wanted to escape. Starsky knew if he started, he’d probably never stop and they still needed to get out of the park.

Hutch nodded. ‘We’re all a bit crispy around the edges, but at least we can talk and hopefully walk. D’ya think you can stand? We need to get out of here’.

‘I’ll give it a good try’ the brunette grunted, trying to get his feet under him. Suddenly the cough that he’d tried to stifle exploded from his chest. He bent over, trying to keep the coughing from jarring his shoulder, but it was almost impossible and as the cough took his breath from him, the pains in his shoulder lanced through his back and chest and needled up into his neck. The fit lasted several minutes and when he managed to get his breathing back under control he was pale and gasping and was leaning heavily against Erin who was sitting at his back.

Hutch rubbed at his friend’s chest as Starsky grunted, tears streaming down his face, leaving white tracks through the grime there.

‘Are you ok?’ Hutch asked, in the silence that ensued.

‘T’riffic…..send out for…….steaks for……barbecue’ Starsky gasped, trying to make light of the fact that he felt as though the fire had transferred from the shed to his lungs.

They waited a few more minutes until Starsky had regained some composure. Slowly Hutch stood, but still couldn’t straighten up. His face contorted in pain as another flash threatened to take his breath away.

Starsky looked up, concerned. ‘Hutch, you’re hurt too’.

‘Yeah. I hurt my back when we were back there in the park. S’ok. I can manage. Can you stand?’

Erin and Hutch helped the brunette to his feet and he stood swaying between them, bent at the waist to take the pressure off his shoulder as his arms were still bound behind him. The two men resembled bananas as neither could straighten fully, and together the three started their weary trudge back to the rose garden gates. They’d gone no more than a few yards when Starsky was brought up short, grunting in pain. He looked around at the reason for him being unable to progress further and laughed out loud at the length of chain attached to the large wooden rafter he was dragging behind him.

‘Great. The curly….. guy makes a stylish…… get away dragging his ……prison behind him!’ he panted as Erin walked back and picked up the heavy wood in her arms.

With Hutch’s arm around his waist, semi supporting him, and Erin bringing up the rear carrying his “anchor”, they made their slow, limping progress back to the tall iron gates. The short journey took a long time and by the time they’d reached the enormous barrier, the sky was turning from velvet black to a milky blue, and a line of light illuminated the horizon.

Gently Hutch eased the brunette against the ironwork, as the two men with their seared lungs fought for breath. Starsky leaned his head back against the cool metal as Hutch put his hands on the gate, arms outstretched and head hanging down between them. Erin thought they both looked completely exhausted and she put down the piece of wooden rafter and walked towards them, putting her arms first round Starsky’s slim waist, then around Hutch’s, bringing them into a joint bear hug. They stood together, joined by adversity and enjoyed the contact, feeling sure that before long someone would visit the park and get them out.

With eyes closed, they stood at the gates, enjoying a moment’s respite from their toils and listening to the beginning of the dawn chorus.

Suddenly the peace was shattered by another voice as it approached them through the dawn light, filling them with fear again.

‘Well isn’t that just too precious? All three beauties together for the taking’ Sanchez’s mad voice rang out.

Chapter 11

Erin gasped in shock and huddled closer to the bodies of the two men as Sanchez approached slowly and carefully, the gun still in his hand. He looked wilder now, the smuts from the fire having landed on his face and his clothing, making both grimy and grey. His eyes stared around him, wide and unnaturally bright and his hair, which covered only two thirds of his head stood out in disarray.

Hutch stiffened and put his body between those of the girl and his friend, but Starsky pushed himself back from the gate and stood shoulder to painful shoulder with the blond as Erin crouched behind them, making herself as small as possible.

‘Come back for round two?’ the brunette said. He was aiming for “cocky”, but only managed “choked” as the words stuck in his fire-scorched throat.

‘I’ve come back to finish you’ Sanchez said, giggling hysterically. The gun wafted between the two targets, one blond and the other brunette. Both were hurting and bent by their pains, but both had somehow found a level of understanding through this ordeal, and instinctively knew they could trust the other.

Hutch had never had a friend like this David Starsky guy. He was an enigma and multifaceted. On the surface, he was slightly brash, definitely fun loving and most of all an inveterate womaniser. Hutch had been amazed at him in the nightclub as he’d gyrated around the floor, dancing next to any and every girl there. He probably wasn’t the best looking guy in the joint, but he was absolutely the most charismatic. His clothes were slightly worn and he wore them with a casual indifference, but his eyes – the deepest blue eyes Hutch had ever seen – shone from a rugged face, inviting conversation and social engagement.

But underneath that brash exterior, Hutch had discovered a deeply caring, brave and slightly damaged individual. It touched the blond to the core to see how the brunette had knelt next to the injured woman when they’d first found her in the park, taking off his jacket to cover her dignity. And the flashback Starsky had experienced in the shed had shaken Hutch to the centre of his being. What sort of experience could cause that sort of reaction in an otherwise tough and streetwise man? He hated to think, but he set himself the challenge of some day finding out, in the hopes that he could help the hurting brunette some way. The one thing he knew for sure was that in a crisis, he’d choose Starsky to watch his back over a troop of marines.

They watched Sanchez approach and each man felt the other stiffen, ready for anything. Although Starsky’s arms remained chained, he still had his feet and Hutch had already had an example of just how effective they could be, back in their wooden prison. But he also knew the extent of their injuries and he worried that in this case, the madman might just get the better of them.

‘You won’t win Guy’ Hutch said levelly when the man was almost close enough to touch them. ‘Whatever happens, you’ll never win. You tried to kill us in that fire, but we escaped. We’ll stop you again. You know that’. He tried to keep the level of confidence in his voice up, but couldn’t help the slight quaver as his body reacted to the exhaustion and the pain.

‘You don’t deserve to live. None of you deserve to live’ Sanchez ground out as he stood in predator like calm, waiting for one of his prey to make a move.

Starsky locked his eyes onto Sanchez’s mad face and stared the wild man down. ‘At least let the girl go. She can’t harm ya. Let her go an’ you can do what you want with us’.

Guy leered at him. ‘I aim to do what I want with all three of you. From his back, he produced three red roses and waved them in front of himself. ‘Look. I have one for each of you. One to put on each of your dead bodies when I’ve finished with you. Just like the others. You’re going to plead for me to kill you before I’ve finished with you’.

‘Don’t you believe it’. The anger rang out in the brunette’s voice as he cajoled the burned, scarred attacker. An idea was beginning to form in his mind and he hoped that Hutch was as much on the brunette’s wavelength as he thought he was. He needed to get the Sanchez mad and off balance.

On their first day at the Academy, they had all been in the classroom, taking their first lesson in ‘Talk and Action – the art of negotiation’. The instructor had told them that in most conditions, the ability to read the body language of not only the perp. but more importantly their partner could mean the difference between having to shoot to kill, or being able to talk their way out of having using lethal force. Starsky had found the idea to be nothing new. In the Army he had been almost conditioned into watching the backs of every member of his platoon and later in his small team. It was second nature to understand when someone my be tired, or hurt or anxious as all those things affected not only the individual, but the group and there was a well developed set of hand signals and abbreviations used when covert conversations needed to be made.

The Academy instructor, Sgt. Trevillion had told them that a good police partnership would be able to read each others intentions with practice and that great teams developed an almost sixth sense; a kind of e.s.p. for reading the other’s thoughts. He’d given them an example of a partnership where the officers had been in a difficult situation, but through their mutual understanding had managed to get out in one piece. Starsky knew they weren’t partners and that they’d only been at the Academy three days, but he hoped he’d be able to communicate on a subtle level enough to let Hutch know what he was doing, and that he was going to follow that scenario.

‘You’re just like a guy I know. Names Trevillion’ Starsky said, almost imperceptibly nudging Hutch. The blond stiffened and his senses went on high alert. OK, what was the curly guy gonna do now?

‘Ya remember Hutch – Trevillion. All talk and no action. Just like you Sanchez’

Hutch’s mind went into overload, as he remembered the name and the talk they’d had. Was that it? Was Starsky going to follow the scenario in the talk?

He snorted in agreement. ‘Oh my God, that idiot! Does everything by numbers? Never had an original thought in his head. Just followed what others have done’.

‘That’s about the size of it. Just like this fucking idiot in front of us’ Starsky agreed, thankful that the blond had got the message. He stood a little closer to the big Nordic body and pushed some links of the trailing chain at Hutch’s hands. He felt the blond take the chain, linking the two of them together.

Sanchez didn’t see the slight movement but he was getting more agitated by the moment, licking his dry lips and moving his weight from one foot to the other. In his mind he could see the three bodies on the ground, as he stood over them victorious. Three less beautiful people in the world, they deserved it. They all deserved it and he relished the thoughts of their death screams floating away on the early morning air.

‘Shut up’ he yelled at the two men. He wanted screams and yells rather than conversation. He couldn’t get off on conversation. He waved his gun threateningly. ‘Shut the fuck up’ he yelled again, as if to bolster his own confidence.

‘ONE thing about Trevillion. He was a bloody coward’ Hutch said clearly, ducking as Sanchez’s fist aimed at his face. In his madness, Guy missed his target and his hand glanced off Hutch’s cheek to punch out at thin air. He wailed in anger.

‘Are you calling me a coward? I’ll show you whose a coward’ he yelled dancing back so that he could see both men.

‘There are TWO other things about him that you need to know’ Starsky joined in the count as he felt Hutch brace himself next to him.

‘Yeah’, Hutch agreed. ‘He had this thing for girls. Liked THREE….’

Both men surged forward, forgetting their injuries.

As Hutch went left holding the end of the chain in his hands, Starsky ducked right, the other end still fastened around his wrists. The swift action bound Sanchez’s arms against his sides as the chain wrapped around him, Starsky ducking under Hutch’s arm and back around to the front of the struggling ex-model as Hutch joined him. Before Sanchez could prize his arms free from the chain, Hutch pushed at him with all his strength, toppling the bound man sideways so that he hit the ground with a grunt, the air being knocked out of his lungs and in a flash, Hutch did the only thing he could do to keep him down.

As Sanchez struggled on the ground, the big blond sat on top of him, his weight anchoring the man down. Starsky, whose wrists were still attached by the chain to the now captive man sat at the side of them, gasping at the new pains in his shoulders and wrists.

The exertion set both men to coughing again and soon their eyes were tearing with the effort, but Sanchez was going no-where and they needed only to remain where they were.

Erin looked from one exhausted guy to the other. Both their faces were grey masks of exhaustion as they sat by the side of their prisoner, gasping and panting. They’d saved her for a third time and now there would be no more red rose deaths. She looked up at the gates wondering if she could possibly climb over them to get help. She felt so useless just sitting there when both Hutch and Starsky so obviously needed medical treatment, but the gate was too high and reluctantly she slumped against the base and waited.

Sanchez’s screams had turned to cries and whimpers as the madness finally left him. He pleaded now for his life.

‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never meant to do it. The voices! There were voices in my head telling me I had to. You don’t understand. Let me up and I’ll give myself in, I promise. I need help. Please you have to believe me, I never meant to do it’.

Starsky looked at the man next to him. He’d kept them chained, he’d beaten them, tried to set fire to them and threatened their lives, and yet he still couldn’t bring himself to hate Sanchez. He was angry, certainly, but there was no malice in his heart. He admitted to himself that Guy really did need help, but probably in Cabrillo or similar; a facility for the criminally insane. He couldn’t find it in him to hurt Sanchez, but he’d hardened his heart to the pleas.

Tiredly he looked down at the still struggling body on the ground and snorted.

‘Go tell it to the Judge!’ as he collapsed against Erin, the pains and the fatigue of the night finally taking its toll.

Chapter 12

‘This guys breathing is getting worse by the minute. We need to get him on oxygen NOW. If he doesn’t respond, get the laryngoscope ready huh? We may need to intubate. He’s got a dislocated shoulder by the looks of it, and my God, have you ever seen anything like this on his wrists? We’re gonna need bolt cutters!Anf a bullet wound on his leg!’ the paramedic listed the brunettes injuries as he knelt over the unconscious form on the ground.

Hutch had watched his friend succumb to the smoke inhalation and his other pains, and had been torn between trying to help the brunette and keeping Sanchez under control. The madman had stopped his feverish struggling now and the chain was still in place around his body, but Hutch didn’t trust him and also knew there was little he could do for Starsky. Both he and the brunette needed medical care urgently.

In the rapidly lightening morning, Hutch had remained sitting on his lumpy and jittering seat while Erin had sat at his feet, huddled against his legs for warmth and comfort. Both dissolved into uncontrollable fits of coughing regularly and their lungs felt as though they were on fire, but they both realised just how lucky they’d been to escape with their lives. They’d remained like that for some time until they’d seen an early morning walker in the park with their dog. Erin had got stiffly to her feet and had yelled at the passer by to get their attention. The look on the poor man’s face as he saw first the battered and blood stained girl and then the three men locked in the rose garden said it all.

‘Can you get an ambulance for us?’ Erin had pleaded, looking for all the world like a felon as she clung to the bars of the gates. The man had nodded, dumbstruck as he regarded the coughing spluttering woman.

‘Tell him to get the police and fire brigade too’ Hutch had rasped, the smoke finally taking its toll on his usually soft velvety voice. ‘We need bolt cutters to get out of here and free Starsky’.

Erin relayed the information to the shocked passer by. Swiftly feeding the lead of the dog through the railings for Erin to hold, the man had bolted off to the park gates and to find the nearest telephone.

Hutch had struggled to keep himself awake, knowing that help was finally at hand and he could have wept with joy as he heard the frantic sirens of the ambulance in the distance coming closer and closer. He’d swayed as he tried to keep himself upright and alert, knowing he needed to hand Sanchez over to the police and give some instructions to the medics when they arrived. The sound of the brunette’s wheezing was getting louder and Hutch understood only too well the effects of smoke inhalation.

Heat damage destroys the cells that line the mouth and throat and often that leads to a build up of fluids, which obstructs the airways and makes breathing difficult. Starsky had been captive in the burning shed far longer than Hutch, who’d been in and out while trying to save Erin and Starsky and the blond knew from his medical training that the problems of being caught in a fire didn’t always seem apparent the minute the victim was rescued. Very often the symptoms only became apparent within six to 24 hours of inhaling smoke. If the brunette didn’t get urgent help, serious smoke inhalation could lead to damage to the smaller airways deeper down in his respiratory system which would become blocked by damaged material. The minute hairs, or cilia, that lined those airways and helped to ferry contaminants out the respiratory system could also be damaged and that could lead to pneumonia and even death.

As he saw the oh so welcome men appear at the gates, he felt the relief wash over him, but the ordeal was not yet over. The fire tender, with its bolt cutting equipment was nowhere in sight and the medics didn’t initially want to risk injury in climbing over the gate.

‘How are you both doing?’ they shouted from the outside garden.

cough ‘Not good. Smoke inhalation and burns’ Hutch shouted back huskily. ‘He’s bad. cough cough You’ve gotta get oxygen for him – high flow rate and humidified. Can ya get over the gate?’ The hacking overtook him and he gasped, regarding them through tearing eyes.

The paramedics nodded, hearing someone who obviously knew what they were talking about and together they’d climbed up and over, just as the sounds of the fire tender and police could be heard approaching.

The firemen took little time to cut the lock on the rose garden gates and they and the black and white patrol surged through, splitting off to the areas they would be best used.

Two of the police officers approached Hutch cautiously. He looked almost dead on his feet and they held his arms as he looked at them with weary eyes.

‘Sir, are you alright?’ one of them asked

Hutch snorted painfully. ‘Damn stupid question! cough The man I’m sitting on is your “Red Roses” murderer. His names cough Guy Sanchez and he attacked that girl and held me and my buddy in a shed. Then he set fire to it an….cough cough….ungh…cough We’re police cadets. I woulda arrested him but…..um….I couldn’t remember the Miranda….cough sorry. I any event I don’t think I’m supposed to use it just yet. Sorry….just tired….an’ sore. Just see to my buddy ok. That’s all that matters huh?’.

The patrolmen looked at each other and then back at the grimy, soot covered, burned blond. ‘That’s ok. We can take it from here. What did you say your name was?’

‘Didn’t…..Hutchinson – Ken’ He paused as another fit of hacking stopped him speaking and the parolman waited patiently until he’d gotten his breathing back under control. My friend over there is David Starsky. I need to get to him, we’ve um….we’ve been through a lot together. ….need to know he’s ok’. He started to get up, but wobbled and sat down again quickly. ‘Oh boy’. Undaunted, Hutch kneeled and crawled over to his friend, just in time to see the fireman cut the bloody and stained chains from Starsky’s wrists, the arms finally able to fall forward and relax. They’d turned the limp form over and the paramedics checked his breathing.

‘He’s got swelling in his airways’ one said after making a preliminary examination. He retrieved some equipment form his bag and Hutch winced as they stretched the olive toned neck back and inserted a bright metal scope between Starsky’s teeth, inserting a tube and attaching it to an oxygen cylinder.

cough cough ‘Oh God Starsk!….is he gonna be OK?’ he asked in alarm as they loaded the body onto a stretcher. His medical training didn’t prepare him for the sight of his new friend in so much trouble and he needed the reassurance of the professionals around him.

‘We’ll get you both to the hospital and then you’ll both get the treatment you need’ the paramedic said, laying a comforting hand on the blonde’s shivering shoulder

Hutch started to walk behind the body of his friend as he saw Erin on another gurney bound for a second vehicle, but the exertions of the night had finally taken their toll on him. He stumbled and tried to right himself. The officer took a firmer grip on his arm to keep him from falling over. ‘Paramedic needed here’ he shouted to the two other guys and one of them peeled off to come to the blonde’s side. As he started to examine the grimy face and got a look at the two blistered hands, Hutch felt the world take a dip to the side, his view fading until it winked out and he fell bonelessly to the ground.

He awoke in the ambulance as it bumped its way to the hospital, sirens wailing to clear their way. Hutch was laying on one of the two gurneys and the paramedic had his back to him as he continued to work over the damaged brunette, checking oxygen flows and adjusting the tube held by a white gauze tape in the open mouth.

‘How’s he doing?’ he rasped softly, his throat feeling as though he’d swallowed sandpaper.

Without looking up from his patient the medic answered. ‘He’s gonna make it, but he’ll be sore for a while. Can you hang on till we get to Memorial? Do you need anything?’

‘No, ‘m fine’. Hutch rested his head back on the pillow before dissolving into another fit of coughing. Finally gasping for breath he felt the vehicle surge to a stop and the door opened letting in a rush of cool morning air. Orderlies took hold of the two gurneys and propelled them into the waiting ER. They were about to wheel Hutch into another room, but he put his hand up.

‘Can’t I stay with him?’

‘Are you a relative?’ one of the orderlies asked.

Hutch knew he’d have to think of some excuse if he was to stay with his friend. cough 'Need to be with my partner’.

And somehow it didn’t seem like a lie. It seemed the most normal thing in the world for Hutch to assume that if, and when they got back to the Academy, they’d remain friends and hopefully work the streets of this crazy city together.

The orderly changed the course of the gurney and parked it in the next cubicle to Starsky’s. Hutch listened to the doctors working over his friend.

‘Get a baseline chest x-ray. We can check for atelectasis, pulmonary oedema and acute respiratory distress syndrome. Nurse, we want blood gases, including carboxyhaemoglobin and acid/base balance, Us and Es and creatinine. We’ll get an ECG just to be sure and if he isn’t responding to treatment we’ll stand by for a bronchoscopy’.

There were sounds of movements and other orders barked out at regular intervals and then Hutch got his own doctor. He looked up at the middle aged woman in the white coat.

‘Good morning Mr…’she looked at the notes passed on from the paramedic ‘Hutchinson. What do we call you?’

‘Hutch’ he rasped, wishing he could get something cool for his throat. Preferably some kind of glacier.

‘Ok Hutch. I’m Dr Abraham and I’ll be taking care of you today. She put her stethoscope on his chest and started her examination, noting down the scorches on the tanned chest, the compromised airways and the huge blisters across his palms. ‘Do you have pain anywhere else?’

cough cough‘ My back. I hurt it getting him out of the fire’.

Carefully she rolled him over as he bit back the groan, the pains coming thick and fast now that his weariness was taking hold. She ran her hands down his spine and he cried out as she hit the spot. Rolling him back she smiled at him.

‘Well, you’re going to need some oxygen for your smoke inhalation. The burns on your chest are superficial, although I’m sure they’re quite painful, so I’ll get the nurse to clean and dress them and give you something for the pain. Your hands have faired a little worse and they’re going to need some extra care. You have second degree burns on both your palms. We’ll cover them for the time being until the blisters go. You aren’t going to be able to hold anything very much for a while – maybe up to eight weeks. As for your back. Well I’m afraid you’ve got a slipped disc which will require a period of rest’.

‘I can’t rest, cough I’ve got to get back to the Academy’ Hutch rasped and started to cough again. Within moments, a nurse had placed an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose and eased him back onto the bed.

Doctor Abraham smiled. ‘I don’t think you’re going anywhere for a while’ she said, writing up her findings and a script for meds.

Hutch closed his eyes as the nurse worked over him. She removed his shirt and jeans and draped a sheet over him as she deftly sponged the soot from his skin. The cool water felt good against his scorched chest and he drifted off into a half sleep, waking suddenly at the jabbing pain half way up his forearm. He saw the drip cannula inserted and then, as the morphine started to kick in, he fell into an exhausted and deep sleep, the hiss of the oxygen lulling him and blocking out the world outside his closed eyes.

Starsky too was asleep, the tube in his throat keeping his airways from swelling closed. The doctors had determined that his lungs had been scorched from his proximity to the seat of the fire, but that in time he would make a full recovery. Once his breathing had been sorted out, the doctors wheeled him off to theatre to have his badly dislocated shoulder repaired under a general anaesthetic. His wrists were stitched and dressed, although the surgeon noted with some alarm that there may have been some nerve damage from the chains bound tightly around them. How much, they would have to wait to find out, but he remained hopeful that the young man wouldn’t loose any feeling or function.

Finally, when both men had been treated, they were taken to a twin room and a nurse sat between their beds in the dim blue light as they started their recoveries back to health.

Chapter 13

Two days later, Hutch was lying flat on his back in his bed eating ice cream which slipped down his still parched throat like a spoonful of pure heaven. The coughing he’d experienced for the past 48 hours had finally abated, which meant that it didn’t jar at his damaged back any more and that meant that Hutch was now one happy little bunny. The pain killing drugs the nurses gave him reduced that almost constant pain he’d been in to an occasional breath taking twinge and if he kept absolutely still and tried not the breathe too deeply, he could almost believe that there was nothing wrong with him. The drugs also gave him a warm and fuzzy feeling and he recognised the stupor of the morphine, for once enjoying the fact that he could be looked after.

For too long Hutch had had to look after himself and cope with Vanessa’s outrageous mood swings as well. He’d fought to keep their marriage together, but had known at the end that Vanessa was too immature to settle down, and he was too young to be saddled with an overbearing and vicious wife. But the parting had still been tough and for a while after she’d left and he was alone in his apartment he’d felt sick and longed for someone to watch over him for a while.

Even when he’d been a small boy, his Mother had been too busy looking after his Father’s work colleagues to give her full attention to her little boy and he’d been left to virtually look after himself. He’d felt a warm surge of affection for the brunette in the next bed when Starsky had taken him under his wing that day at the Academy. And he found it endearing, touching and downright alluring to say the least, that the curly haired guy would put his life on the line for Hutch. There was a connection, the beginnings of a bond between the two and the blond knew he wanted to foster it.

Now, with the drugs in his system, the ice cream in his throat and his new friend asleep at his side, he felt warm and happy. In fact he felt so well that he was beginning to think that he was a bit of a fraud for actually being in the hospital in the first place. Weren’t hospitals for really sick people? Weren’t they supposed to throw you out once you’d started to look like you were recovering? Somehow he thought he should have been going home, back to his lonely and almost empty apartment. That thought filled him with dread and he pushed it down deep inside him, concentrating instead on the feelings of wellbeing. He snuggled down in the bed and pulled the sheets up around his nose, feeling cosseted and he looked across the small room at his friend.

When they’d both been finished up in the ER, it seemed natural to the nurses to put both men in the same room to recover. They seemed to fit together, like strawberries and cream or Laurel and Hardy and Hutch had been more than pleased when he’d woken from his first morphine induced sleep to see the still, bandaged form of the smaller man in the bed opposite.

Starsky had looked pale then and almost boy-like. The nurses had bathed him and had washed his hair to get rid of the dried blood and soot and now the springy ebony curls cascaded over his forehead. He had a vulnerable quality to him which Hutch had seen back in that shed, The Starsky which the world saw was a well practiced front to hide his vulnerable and hurt persona. Not that he was suffering. No. Starsky would always be a slightly mischievous fun loving guy. But now the blond had seen the Starsky beneath the surface and rather than feeling sorry for the slightly damaged individual, there was something about that very vulnerability which endeared itself to Hutch.

Now two days later, and after much sleep, Starsky was just waking up from another nap. He stretched lazily with his one good arm, the other being bandaged to his chest to protect the damaged shoulder. Tannic ointment dressings showed on the burns on his chest and arms and the white bandage contrasted sharply with his tanned and furred torso. The respirator had gone and now only the oxygen nasal tubes and the drip in the back of his hand remained. He looked over at the bed opposite, yawning and scratching at the healing scratcheS down his arm from the rose thorns.

For the brunette this was just one more place to wake up. he was used to different beds in different places and had long ago acclimatised himself to that disassociated feeling he got when he opened his eyes and stared at whichever ceiling was above him. First it had been his bedroom at his Mom’s house in New York. Then, later, when his Mom had sent him away, there was Aunt Rosie’s house, along with the various friends ceilings he’d gotten used to over the years when he’d needed to get away from the cloying care his Aunt and Uncle took of him.

Then of course, there had been the army training camp, the other secret camp on the Mexico border, the tents in Vietnam and the bars of his cage when he’d been a prisoner. After the roof of the hospital tent and the ceiling of the army hospital ward during the two months it had taken him to recover from the “hospitality” of the Viet Cong, it had been a month at his friend Traff’s house, then back to aunt Rosie’s.

She’d been so sickly sweet with him after his discharge from the draft, knowing he’d been hurt in some way, even though he’d never told her about what had happened to him and he’d felt claustrophobic and needed to get away. He knew she’d never have been able to cope with the knowledge of what had been done to him and the treatment he’d received, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell his Mom any time soon. His family had a kind of bush telegraph. IF he told Rosie, she’d be on to her sister in New York before he’d gotten the final words out of his mouth. Not wanting to go back to the army, the police academy had appealed TO HIM. It had the same discipline he secretly enjoyed and when he’d been accepted, he saw it as the first step on getting his independent life in order.

‘Hutch? Are you awake?’ he called softly.

‘Yeah’.

‘Oh good. D’ya need anything buddy?’ Starsky had taken to asking his friend if he needed anything because Hutch had been told to lie flat on his back for a week. The doctors had told him that if he followed their instructions to the letter, there was a chance the slipped disc would go back on its own and that he would be fine to move around. Although he’d always have a weakness there, they didn’t think any permanent damage had been done.

Whilst Starsky wasn’t exactly mobile himself, he took it upon himself to make sure that Hutch wanted for nothing, and Hutch enjoyed the attention, basking in the glow of their blooming friendship. At the beginning of their evening out, they’d been acquaintances, trying to get to know each other. Now, through the adversity of the situation, they had become best friends and neither man could foresee a time when they would not be close.

Hutch turned his head to look at his friend.

‘My foot itches’ he said apologetically. ‘D’ya think you could get the nurse to….Hey. Watcha doin?’ He watched as Starsky took off the oxygen tubes and levered himself out of bed, wincing as the movement caught at his sore shoulder. The bandages around his wrists were broad and clumsy and stopped him moving too well, but the doctors were pleased that he could wiggle all of his fingers and both thumbs, and there was feeling in the ends of all of his digits. The nerve damage they’d suspected was minor and would heal in time.

He padded on bare feet over to the blonde’s bed.

‘Which foot?’ he rasped. The smoke had damaged the lining of his throat, and whilst Hutch’s voice was now almost back to normal, Starsky sounded as though he’d spent the last two weeks screaming for his favourite ball team to win. Either that, or he had the worst case of laryngitis the medical world had ever seen!

‘Get back in bed’ Hutch hissed. ‘If that nurse sees ya, she’ll eat you alive’.

‘Ya mean the one who looks like a Bulldog chewing a wasp? Nah, she’s a pussy cat’ Starsky grinned. ‘Now, which foot?’

‘The right one….no…down….down….ohhhhhh, you got it’ Hutch mumbled in appreciation as his buddy continued to scratch at the unreachable itch.

Just as they were getting to the end of the foot ministrations, the nurse they’d been talking about appeared at the door. She took in the empty bed, the drip tube stretched across the room and the brunette standing barefoot on the tile floor in one glance. Her shoulders hunched and she drew a deep breath to start shouting at her two young patients.

Hutch braced himself. He’d been on the receiving end of her tongue lashing last night when he’d tried to insist he could get out of bed to use the bathroom, rather than use the bottle she handed to him. He wondered what reaction she’d have to seeing Starsky out of bed. He needn’t have worried.

As she started to shout, the brunette turned his dazzling smile on her and she melted into the deep indigo blue pools of his eyes.

‘My friend had an itch, and you girls are just so busy….I wanted to save you having to race in here’ the brunette lied while giving her his best lop sided grin. ‘You’re all such angels, it seems real bad that you’re so hard worked ya know?’ His voice was husky and sexy and the woman felt her heart quickening even though she was old enough to be this guy’s mother.

She stopped in her tracks, and Hutch marvelled at his friend’s ability to change her from a charging rhino into a cute pussy cat with one flash of his twinkling eyes. He vowed he’d have to learn that trick – soon.

‘Oh you young men!’ she dimpled at him. ‘Off you go back to bed, its no trouble. No trouble at all’.

Starsky winked at Hutch as he bowed his head and meekly allowed the nurse to lead him back to his bed, settling the sheets around him and fussing over his drip and his oxygen. As she bent over the bed, Hutch saw Starsky wink again.

‘Are you alright now? Is there anything I can get you?’ she asked.

‘I’m kinda hot and sticky’ the brunette whined. Could ya….’

The elderly nurse smiled. ‘I’ll send in Fiona to give you a sponge bath’ she said as she paused at the door.

‘Thank you’ Starsky mumbled feebly and as the woman left, grinned at Hutch. The blond rolled his eyes.

‘Where d’ya learn to do that?’ he asked in awe. ‘She’s a Rotweiller! And now she’s just promised a sponge bath for you with the prettiest nurse on the ward! Jeez, Starsk!’

The brunette winked back. ‘Hey, two months in an army hospital. Ya have to learn something! Play your cards right Blintz, I’ll got one for you too huh?’

Chapter 14

As promised, both Starsky and Hutch had their sponge baths that afternoon, Fiona and her friend Mary vying over who had the blond and who had the brunette. Amidst much giggling the ablutions were preformed and half an hour later, the two nurses emerged pink faced and hot under their collars and the two guys had smiles from ear to ear. As the nurses left, Starsky laid his head back on the pillow and gazed at the ceiling.

‘One day I’m gonna marry a nurse. The things they do with their hands!’ he sighed.

Hutch smiled. ‘I think I’m in love!’ He patted swiftly and self consciously at the sheet near the centre of his body, trying to make it lie flat as the brunette giggled at him.

‘Looks more like you’re in lust. Did she know you had a boner?’

Hutch blushed. ‘When you’re led on your back with just a single sheet covering you, it’s very difficult to disguise!’ He stared malevolently at the giggled men in the bed opposite. ‘Hey! A little sympathy here! I may have scared off the future Mrs Hutchinson!’ He paused and thought about the situation, chuckling himself until both men were caught up in gales of laughter.

They were enjoying the moment so much that for a few seconds they didn’t see the figure in the black uniform standing at the door to their room. At a quiet and authoritative cough, they looked up and stopped giggling as their sergeant came into the room, carrying a box of chocolates and a big bunch of flowers.

Starsky sat up straighter in his bed and even Hutch laid at attention as the man walked authoritatively into the small room.

‘Good afternoon gentlemen’ Sergeant O’Malley said dryly, looking from one bed to the other.

‘Good afternoon Sir', both men said in concert, their giggles subsiding rapidly.

O’Malley put his goodies down on the two small night tables between the beds and pulled up a chair so that he could see both invalids.

‘How are you both feeling today?’ he asked, taking in Hutch’s enforced supine position and the bandages decorating Starsky’s wrists and chest. Both young men looked tired and had scorch marks, burns, bruises and small cuts over their faces and arms and nothing could disguise the smoke ravaged voices either.

‘Fine Sir’ they chorused, although they looked anything but OK. Starsky had a vague idea why his sergeant might be there, at their bedsides, and the thought left him cold. He’d had a similar visit from his CO in the army right after he’d recovered from the Viet Cong’s treatment. Then, the man had arrived bearing gifts softening the pronouncement he’d had to make. The young brunette hoped that this time, his gut feeling would be wrong.

‘You two are quite the heroes’ he started, twiddling the end of his moustache as he spoke. ‘The Academy hasn’t had cadets so new do anything quite like this for years now. We’ve been swamped with news paper reporters and the like. So far we’ve managed to keep them out of your hair, but Bay City wants to meet the two Wunderkindt who managed to take down a serial murderer and rapist with only 3 days training’.

‘Oh hey, I don’t want any publicity’ Hutch stuttered, the colour rising in his face. He hated the thought of being singled out for praise. After all, it was what he was training to do and felt he would have done much the same thing even if he hadn’t been a police cadet.

‘Me neither. That’s not what this was all about. So long as Erin’s OK now, that’s all that matters’ Starsky added, feeling hot and flustered at the same time.

O’Malley held up his hand. ‘I’ve told hospital security that they aren’t to let any reporters anywhere near the two of you for the time being’ he began.

‘What d’ya mean for the time being?’ Hutch interrupted, adding ‘Sir’ as an afterthought when he saw the look on his sergeant’s face.

O’Malley started to look distinctly uncomfortable. ‘The…erm….the Police Commissioner has had a meeting this morning with the Chamber of Commerce in the city. In very exceptional circumstances, they get together to discuss matters of civic importance and they…..erm…..they were discussing the two of you’.

‘Shit!...I mean, why us Sir?’ Starsky asked, suddenly very aware of what they’d managed to achieve in that dark park.

O’Malley smiled at the two guys. He straightened in his seat and very formally cleared his throat. ‘The Police Commissioner and the Chamber of Commerce of Bay City have directed me to tell you that you are both to be awarded the Medal of Valour. The Medal of Valour is awarded to officers who have distinguished themselves with acts of bravery or heroism beyond the normal demands of police service. If you accept the award, there will be a civic ceremony in four weeks time at the Chamber of Commerce offices in the centre of town. There’ll be no way I can keep the reporters away then’ he finished with a grin.

There was a silence in the room that could have been cut with a knife as both patients tried to take in the enormity of the proposal. O’Malley looked from one to the other having anticipated such a reaction. He let the news sink in without prompting wither young man.

‘No, I can’t do it’ Starsky finally broke the silence. ‘I can’t speak for Hutch, but I can’t accept…..Sir’.

‘I was just about to say the same thing’ Hutch said quietly. ‘It’s great to think that people have thought enough about it to want to give us an award, but….’

‘But what? Don’t you realise just what an honour it is?’ O’Malley asked.

‘Yeah, it’s great, but there are two things Serg’. The brunette held up two fingers, folding one down as he counted off. ‘First, I never wanted to join the police for awards. Got enough medals in ‘Nam to cover that, an’ the whole idea of a ceremony with cameras and false smiles is just way over the top. And two’ he folded down the second finger….

‘And two’ Hutch interrupted, ‘Just how would we square it with the rest of the class huh? “Oh look, there’s the two dorks who got an award – aren’t they the clever ones”?’ He raised his eyebrows at O’Malley, seeking understanding.

The sergeant looked from one man to the other. ‘Somehow I kinda got the impression you’d come up with answers like that’ he smiled. ‘Well, there are two things here. First, it’s a great honour to be awarded the Medal of Valour and to turn it down would be an enormous mistake. Would you accept it if I could convince the Chamber to have a private ceremony – no press?’

Hutch looked over at Starsky, who’d swung his legs over the side of the bed and was contemplating his toes, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

‘What d’ya think buddy?’ he asked quietly.

Starsky lifted stormy blue eyes. ‘Can you leave us a minute Serg, please?’

O’Malley got up and left, hovering just outside the small room.

They waited till he’d gone before Starsky asked. ‘So? What d’ya wanna do?’

Hutch blew out his cheeks in an explosive sigh. ‘Well, we don’t wanna piss the Commissioner off so early in our careers, but I’m with you buddy. I never did it for a medal’.

‘No, me neither’ the indigo eyes darted upwards, focusing on Hutch’s sky blues before looking down at his toes again. ‘I just hate the whole bowing and scraping routine, ya know? Its good they considered us, but the ceremony gives me the creeps’.

The blond nodded. ‘Yeah, me too. I hate parties, for gods sake. How would I feel at an award ceremony. My stammer comes on at the worst times! So, d’we go with private, or do we just say thanks but no thanks?’

They considered in silence for a while before saying more or less together. ‘Private?’ They called O’Malley back in.

Starsky let Hutch do the talking, being the more diplomatic one.

‘Sir, we feel honoured that the city wants to give us an award, but we’re uncomfortable with the whole idea of a ceremony. Is there any way just you and the Academy Commandant could do the award?’

O’Malley smiled. ‘It could be arranged. You want it completely private? No family or friends either?’

‘Nah, just the two of us Serg., if that’s ok? And….erm….is there any way the class need to know?’ Starsky asked earnestly.

One again the Sergeant looked uncomfortable. He spun his cap round and round in his hands as he stared at the floor. ‘That probably won’t be a problem. That was the second thing I wanted to talk to you about’ he said uncomfortably.

Hutch caught his breath. ‘Why?’ has asked softly.

‘Because we’ve spoken with your doctors. What with the smoke inhalation, the burns, your wrists, Starsky, and your back, Hutchinson, you won’t be fit to return to the Academy for some time – maybe a couple of months. Its…erm….been decided to put you back for six months’.

‘Shit!’ Starsky twiddled his toes. ‘Knew that’d happen! It’s not fair Serg. an’ you know it…Sir. We didn’t do anything wrong. Why are we being penalized?’

‘Its not a punishment Starsky. Its just that you’d both miss too much to be able to catch up and have a good attempt at the exams. I’m sorry. That’s the decision of the Academy. You can re-join the next intake in the Fall’. O’Malley got up to leave. ‘I’ll set the arrangements going for the award ceremony then’. He looked at the two silent and morose men. ‘Its not the end of the world you know. Its only 6 months and you’ve already proved you’ll make damned good officers. Just take your time getting well and don’t rush it ok?’ He backed out of the room, leaving two shell shocked men behind him.

‘Fuck!’ Hutch cursed as he stared at the ceiling.

‘My sentiments exactly! Now what’re we gonna do? Six months! Shit!’

They laid back on their beds and contemplated the future six months of nothing – no police, no learning……no money!

Starsky felt trapped. There was no way he wanted to go back to living at Aunt Rosie’s for another half a year. While he loved his Aunt and Uncle to bits, he felt confined and claustrophobic when he was living with them. That was the good thing about the army – he’d had freedom in bucket loads, to do exactly as he pleased, and going home had felt like entering a well padded and comfortable prison – but a prison nonetheless.

For Hutch, the prospect of another six months in his cold and lonely apartment held no appeal at all, and he considered what he’d do, led on his back all day in the silence until he could get back up and get on with his life.

As the doctor came back to check on his patients, he found two sullen and depressed individuals contemplating a future they’d never bargained for, even after being celebrated as the bravest and best.

'You've got another visitor if you want?' the doctor asked. 'It looks to me like you coould do with some cheering up. Shall I tell him to come in?'

Hutch looked over at Starsky with a "please don't let anyone else in here" look, but before they could ask the Doc to get rid of them, Colby stepped through the door, a false smile on his face. As the doctor backed out, the young man stood between the two beds, resplendant in his sharpley creased black uniform, the pristine white tee shirt visible at the open neck of the shirt.

'Well if it isn't Starsky 'n' Hutch, the two best damned Cadets on the block huh?'

'Colby!' Starsky rasped, not liking the look on the boy's face. He'd found Colby to be a likeably guy, but had the impression right from the beginning that he would hate to get on the wrong side of him.

'Yeah, Colby. The one who thought you were his friend! The same one thats wondering now why you and cutsey little Blondie here got rid of us so easy so that you two could take all the credit for catching the Roses killer. Cute! Let those two clowns drive back to the Academy while we just saunter round to the park and catch the bad guy. What is it with you two? Ya wanted all the glory for yourselves huh? No sharing the medals with your friends!' Colby stopped for breath, glaring malevolently at the two bedbound cadets.

Hutch was speachless. He'd never heard such a vitriolic speach and especially from someone who he'd thought was a friend, but Starsky's hot temper had overboiled.

'Yeah, its a shitload of fun getting almost burned alive Colby. We always did want the "fun" of being threatened, shot at, tied up and set on fire. Great night out! It not our fault you decided not to join in the fun!' he sneered.

'And then you get a medal for it. Jeez, guys. what're ya gonna do? Come back with an armful of awards and lord it over the rest of us huh? Just because you managed to get yourselves beaten to a pulp. Such heroes!'

Starsky was half out of his bed now, incensed at the uniformed man sneering at his and Hutch's acheivements.

'Get out Colby. Get out and stay out'. he yelled

'Or what? ya gonna hit me with your drip stand Starsky? Soooo scared of ya now' Colby continued to taunt as the brunette tried to disentangle himself from the tubes and pipes connecting him to the bed.

As the doctor returned, hearing the commotion and started to manhandle Colby out of the room, Starsky fell to the floor, wrenching his arm and Hutch yelled back at the retreating cadet.

'Get out Colby and stay out. don't you ever cross us again, or else!'

'Or else what? Blondie? Don't you forget. You've been put back six months. I'll always be your superior now. Wherever you go, whatever you do, you'll have me looking over your career shoulder and giving you the commands. Don't you forget that, ya hear?'

The doctor managed to pull the angry young man away and the nurse ran into the room, helping the brunette back onto the bed and calming Hutch who was making valiant attempts to sit up and get to his friend. As they both eventually settled back into their beds, Hutch looked over to the curly headed young man.

'I think we got ourselves a friend there' he panted, wincing at the pains in his back.

'Yeah. should be fun from now on' Starsky grinned as the nurse soothed his forehead.

Epilogue.

‘Ungh….its too tight’ Hutch mumbled as he fastened the black uniform shirt over the back brace he’d promised to wear if he was able to get up out of bed. He’d had to rely on his friend to get his feet into the black socks and lace his black regulation shoes up and now he was struggling with the tie and his top button, feeling like a parcel tied up in the middle.

Starsky had his pants on, his black shirt open and his tie dangling, partly tied around his neck. His unruly curls had been swept back into a semblance of order and he was helping his friend with the last of his preparations.

‘It’ll be fine. It’s only a couple of hours, then we can get back here an’ I’ll tuck you up in your bed again and put that heat pad on your back’ Starsky said, standing and starting to tuck his shirt into his pants.

It was three weeks since they’d been released from the hospital and five weeks since the fire. During that time, Hutch had spent most of his life flat on his back with his curly haired friend fussing over him. After O’Malley’s visit, they discussed what the future would bring and had resigned themselves to having to wait until the Fall to get back to the Academy. But neither man had wanted to go back to their lives before the affair had started and so it seemed a sensible arrangement for Starsky to move into Hutch’s old apartment with him, to look after his new friend and also give himself the freedom he so desperately craved.

The arrangements were working well and now they were almost like an old married couple. It felt strange and at the same time good for the blond to have someone looking after him and at the same time, Starsky got a kick out of making sure Hutch was well, happy and relatively pain free. They enjoyed each others company and their characters meshed perfectly – Hutch’s cerebral presence bouncing against Starsky’s ebullient character.

Now they had the final hurdle before the long wait for September, when they could start again.

Their friends had visited and neither man had said anything to them about the award, although there were rumours going around the Academy that the two had been nominated for anything from the Medal of Valour to a $3000 reward - Colby just couldn't keep his mouth shut. Whatever the prize, all the cadets apart from Colby wished the two well and were not in the least jealous, especially when they’d seen the dark rings round Hutch’s eyes showing the amount of pain he was enduring daily, and the horrendous, shiny scars surrounding Starsky’s wrists.

Neither Starsky or Hutch had enlightened their friends on what exactly had gone on that night, through a mixture of embarrassment, and the need to assimilate it themselves first before letting others into their shared experiences.

Hutch watched as Starsky straightened his tie and took a final look in the mirror.

‘Are you ready Pal?’ he asked

Starsky heaved a calming sigh. ‘I am if you are’.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

‘On Wednesday, March 11th 1972 the Bay City Police Department is proud to present the Medal of Valour Awards, the Department’s highest honor, to Cadet Kenneth Richard Hutchinson and Cadet David Michael Starsky of Bay City Police Academy. The Medal of Valor is awarded to officers who have distinguished themselves with acts of bravery or heroism beyond the normal demands of police service. To date, the Department has awarded 271 Medal of Valor awards’.

‘Both Cadets Hutchinson and Starsky performed lifesaving rescues, risking their lives in service to others. These cadets’ actions illustrate the type of situations any Bay City Police Officer may face in the day-to- day performance of their duties’.

‘It gives me great pleasure to award these medals to these fine new recruits and hope that they will serve this city as future police officers for any years to come’. The Commissioner finished his speech and Starsky held Hutch’s arm as he limped up onto the podium to receive his medal. The Commissioner pinned it to his uniform and Hutch took a step back and saluted as Starsky received his.

As they limped back down from the stage to the muted clapping of the four of five people present at the private ceremony, Starsky took hold of Hutch’s arm again, propelling his friend to the buffet table at the side of the room.

‘How long d’ya think we have to stay to make it look good?’ he hissed, surveying the petite sandwiches and cakes on display.

‘Dunno, but I’m outa here as soon as’ Hutch replied, trying to sit down and wincing as the back brace cut into his armpits and round his waist. ‘Why?’

‘Coz, all I want now is a beef burrito with extra onions, an’ my life is complete!’ the brunette replied. ‘Life is simple. Good fast food, a cold beer’ and he looked away as he mumbled something else.

‘Say what?’ Hutch asked, straining to hear over the others talking in the room. ‘What was that last, buddy?’

Indigo eyes turned on him and burned deep into his soul, as for once Starsky stared at him with not a trace of humour.

‘I said, Life is simple. Good fast food, a cold beer and a friend I’d be willing to die for. Friends for ever huh?’ he held out a hand to the blond, who took it without a moments hesiatation.

‘That’s just how we need it to be Pal’. He smiled at a memory. ‘what was that you said in that shed? I kinda liked the ring it had. Oh, yeah. I got it. Like its gonna be our mantra’. Hutch raise his bottle of beer and toasted the brunette. ‘Me and Thee?’

END