|A Coffin For Hutch Part 1
Author: Kirsty Welsh PM
No, not a re-hash of the favorite eppy, I promise. Pasts have a habit of catching up with us painfully, especially when we have something we don't want others to know about. Sometimes even the best hidden skeletons come back to hant us. COMPLETERated: Fiction K+ - English - Angst/Friendship - Chapters: 14 - Words: 34,740 - Reviews: 39 - Favs: 5 - Follows: 1 - Updated: 04-27-08 - Published: 04-13-08 - Status: Complete - id: 4194101
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
There are lots of sayings about families - blood is thicker than water; you can choose your friends, but families are there for life. In most cases families are there for love and protection. But there are families, and then there are families. Most - good or bad - have skeletons in their closets and sometmes those skeletons have a habot of escaping and rattling their bones. And sometimes that has devastating consequences.
There is no one dedication to this story . It's for everyone out there who loves Starsky and Hutch. R.L. has been rough of late and my boys are a constant through changes, trials and tribulations. In a way, this story is dedictaed to them, and to all those who care to read the story.
THIS STORY IS BROOKS IDEA - I MERELY PUT THE WORDS TO THE THOUGHTS. She's the bomb!
Disclaimer - Don't own 'em (dammit), no money made, but I do love to play with them some!
Hutch sat outside his partner's apartment building, his fingers drumming impatiently on the steering wheel of his car. They were due on the late shift and the early afternoon sun beat down on the battered brown Ford LTD, making crystal blue eyes narrow against the glare. With a sigh, Hutch reached into the glove box and fished around for his sun shades. He jammed them onto his nose and wiped the trickle of sweat from the side of his face. It was another hot one, the temperature registering almost 100 degrees and his fresh tee shirt was already limp and damp and sticking to his back annoyingly. He longed for a day at the beach, a swim in the sea and a bottle of ice cold beer, but that would have to wait. He looked up at the front door again and honked the horn impatiently. His old car seemed claustrophobic in the sultry heat and Hutch hated confined spaces, preferring instead the great outdoors and Mother Nature.
There was a brief shout from inside and then the door opened and Starsky appeared, slipping his gun into his holster and wiggling his hips inside his tight jeans. Hutch shook his head and snickered to himself. The lovely Stacey may be at home, but his partner sure wasn't getting to sample her delights! The brunet walked stiffly down the steps, the bulge in his jeans just too apparent in the tightly zipped denim. Hutch honked the horn again grinning at the smaller man and the single middle finger that was flicked his way.
'Well is that any way to greet your partner?' he asked mildly as the brunet wrestled with the door of his car and got in. The horn blared briefly and Starsky slammed the big door closed, kicking out at it with a blue sneakered foot.
'When are ya gonna get a decent set of wheels?' the curly headed man asked tetchily, ignoring the greeting.
'Nothing wrong with old Gerty. She's got everything I need. Good body, a heart like a cabbage an' she gets me from A to B a lot cheaper than that parade float you got buddy'.
'Ya need your head examinin' if ya think this is a great body!'
Hutch snickered again. 'And of course after a hot night with Stacey, you'd know all about that partner'.
'Shudup'. The brunet wriggled on the seat, surreptitiously adjusting the lump in his jeans.
'Ooh, I'd take that as a big fat signal that once again that "Polish/Jewish/Italian/God knows what else" magic has failed to work'.
'Stacey didn't let ya – again!'
'It aint nuthin to do with my animal magnetism. She's just shy' Starsky said defensively.
'Starsk, it's been what? Three weeks? An' every day you've been coming to work with an attitude, a boner and an excuse. When're ya gonna realise that your girl's……'
'Well I can't make my mind up whether she's frigid, strange or just damned sensible' Hutch responded as he turned the car out onto the main highway.
'None of 'em…..an' what d'ya mean sensible?'
'She knows when she's missin' a good thing. That's what ya get for takin' my castoffs buddy'.
'Don't kid yourself Blondie. She'd probably recoverin'. Besides it's only been…'
'Three weeks' Hutch finished off. 'Three weeks of you walking round with a long face and a distinct list to the left! She was fine when I had her. Long nights of romance, candles, her body pressed tightly against mine and then she'd…..'
'Zebra three! Zebra three come in please' the voice broke into the blond's reminiscing.
Starsky hooked the mic. from the dash and pushed the button. 'What'd'ya want Mildred?' he snapped.
'Gone without again have ya Starsky?' the woman in the dispatch office chuckled. The brunet looked sideways.
'Is there anyone who don't know about my sex life?' he asked.
Hutch shook his head. 'I think there's a new flatfoot in room 520 that aint sure just yet'.
The brunet sighed. 'Leaving snide comments aside, what do ya got for us honey?' he asked a little more calmly.
'We have a silent alarm at 1532 Washington, please respond. And Starsky, use caution, shots fired'.
'10-4 we are responding'. Starsky hung up the mic. And as Hutch turned his car and headed in the opposite direction, he wriggled on the seat again. Hutch snorted.
'You know it must be some kinda record'
'I said shudup. Just keep your eyes on the road'.
'You wanna drive?' the blond asked mildly.
'This heap? No way. I can't go short and drive your tractor'.
'Oh, so you are……going short' Hutch crowed.
'You can be real annoyin' ya know that'.
'Wassup Starsk, is it getting' too much for ya? Little Davey feelin' too left out. It's like everything else with you. You've no willpower. None at all' the flaxen haired cop swerved at speed round a bend and straightened the car, accelerating away. 'Take food. I know for a fact you can't last more'n a couple of hours without you need another burrito, or a slice of pizza or a candy bar'.
Starsky grabbed for the window sill and hung on, his feet braced against the dashboard. 'And who are you? The man of steel or sumthin? You're tellin' me that if you an…WATCH IT…..Jeez Blintz, mind the sidewalk!. As I was sayin'. If you an' Abby didn't…ya know for a few nights, wouldn't you be feelin' the pain?'
Hutch spun the car around another corner, the wheel flowing through his hands. 'Not that I've ever had the problem, but no. I admit I like hot sex like the next guy….'
It was Starsky's turn to snort. 'Hey, where Stacey's concerned I am the next guy, remember. You finished with her fair and square'.
'As I was saying…. I like sex, but I can do without. It's not the be all and end all. Like food. Abby and I like to fast at weekends. I can happily go two days or even three without food. Starsk, will ya please stop doing that!' he slapped the brunet's hand away as once again the smaller man tried to adjust his jeans.
'Hmm. I tell ya! Stacey aint comin' round tonight, so I have a hot date with a bottle of beer an' my left hand!'
'Aww shit Gordo, you are so….so….'
'Gross. Here. What number did Mildred say?'
Hutch brought the car to a standstill and both men paused a moment, listening.
'1532. Up ahead. I don't hear anythin'. D'you?' Starsky asked.
Hutch gave him a pitying look. 'And the silent in silent alarm means……?'The brunet took his Smith and Wesson from his shoulder holster and pulled back the barrel, checking the magazine. With it held loosely in his left hand, and with Hutch grasping his own Colt Python, they got out of the car and moved silently forward. Rounding the corner of the big warehouse, the brunet pushed his back up against the wall, knees bent and gun held two handed in front of him. He ducked his head round the corner, then snapped it back.
'Two of 'em, loadin' up' he hissed as Hutch nodded.
'We go on three?' the blond asked.
'Wait, ya mean one two and we go on three, or one two three and then we go?'
Starsky stared at him. 'You know it gets pretty damned tiresome. How many times have we been through this? How many? On three. One two and then we go on three' he explained as if to a child.
The flaxen haired cop nodded. 'Ok, one two and then go on three. Gotcha. One. Two and……Starsky!'
The brunet had whipped around the corner and was taking off at a flat out sprint down the alley between the two warehouses, gun raised high. Hutch heard him shout "Police Freeze" as he went and saw two men, one who leaped down from the tailgate of a truck and one who whirled round to face his partner. Hutch made a snap decision and took off after the flake running from the truck, leaving Starsky to deal with the other guy who was now facing him down.
Starsky skittered to halt a little way from the second man who had turned his back and was about to make his own run for it. Leaping forward, the brunet launched himself at the guy's back, slamming him face first into the wall of the warehouse. There was an indistinct "whoof" as the air was driven from his target's lungs and the Starsky, gun still in his left hand whipped the body around to face him.
'When I say freeze, I mean stay still punk! Just what part of……' the curly haired cop stopped suddenly as he looked for the first time at the face in front of him. His captive grinned back.
'Ya gonna use that thing Bro?'
Starsky stood stock still, his hands still on the body of the other man, staring into large smoky grey eyes that sent his mind catapulting back years. Shaking himself mentally and recalling that the guy had in fact been shooting only minutes earlier, he snapped himself back into gear.
'Are ya gonna make me Dale?'
'Well guns were never our style, were they?' the man with the jet black hair snickered.
'To hell with style! What the fuck are you doin' here? Goddamit Dale, I gotta take you in' Starsky said almost apologetically, his hands loosening their grip on the other man's collar.
Quick as a flash, Dale ducked down, twisting himself violently away from the brunet's grip and ramming a fist into Starsky's stomach. Starsky bent over clutching at his ribs and grabbed wildly for Dale's arm, he held on for a fraction of a second, making the other man lose his balance. Dale stumbled, righted himself and kicked out at the cop's left hand causing the gun to fall from his grip and rattle onto the ground.
Now Dale had Starsky by the neck and was hauling him around until he could see the brunet's face. Starsky struggled back, breaking the grip and looking around wildly for his weapon, but before he could find it, Dale and thrown a knife onto the floor in front of the panting cop.
'If you're intent on fightin' Bro, at least do it the civilized way. The way we used to'.
With one eye still fastened on his opponent, Starsky reached down slowly for the blade, hefting it in his left hand. He took it by the handle, his fingers curling around the ribbed surface, blade pointing back up his arm towards himself as he brought his arm up to eye level. Dale grinned at him.
'Ya never forget do ya?'
'Don't make me Dale…..don't make me do this' Starsky pleaded. His hand tightened as he saw the other man launch himself at him.
He side stepped neatly and whirled around, all the time keeping Dale in sight as the other man swung his own blade at Starsky. Starsky kept his guard up, his eyes never leaving his opponents face. Four, maybe five times, the brunet pulled himself back from the silver blade flicking within inches of his neck as he tried to keep his distance. He backed up, not wanting to enter into a knife fight with his old acquaintance, and as he did so, he tripped over an uneven piece of ground falling onto his back. Immediately Dale was upon him, knees straddling the lithe brunet body as Starsky stared back at him defiant. Dale placed his knife at Starsky's neck, below his left ear.
'So out of practice! Wow, you disappoint me' he grinned down at the panting cop.
'What the hell are ya doin' here?' Starsky asked as levelly as he could, unable to struggle now that the blade had him pinned. 'Why?'
Dale bent down, as though starting to say something but his words were cut off by a cold metal muzzle being pressed against his neck. He jumped and the knife at Starsky's throat slipped, cutting through the olive toned skin. Blood, bright and ruby coloured started to seep in a trickly line to soak into the cop's tee shirt. Starsky hissed softly at the stinging wound.
'Hands where I can see 'em. Lose the blade'.
Dale froze, his face registering surprise and then resignation as he slowly threw his knife to one side. The blade clattered onto the dirt of the alley as Hutch kept up the pressure.
'Up nice and slow punk. No sudden moves' the muzzle followed the man upwards as he rose from his perch over the brunet's body and Starsky's hand went reflexively to his neck.
Hutch had Dale facing the wall now, gun still pressed into his back as he fished for his cuffs, realising belatedly that he'd used them on Dale's friend. He shouted over his shoulder. 'Starsk, you ok buddy?'
There was a muffled 'T'riffic' signifying that the brunet was alive if not exactly kicking.
'Cuffs…..need your cuffs pal' the blond continued, his attention still on his prisoner.
Starsky slowly and shakily got up and staggered over to the two men by the wall. He reached into his back pocket and took out his handcuffs, snapping them onto Dale's wrists. As Hutch pulled the raven haired man around, Starsky's eyes met Dales, searching the bronzed face.
'Why?' he asked softly.
Dale grinned back cockily. 'Coz I came for you Bro'.