Death Scene

Starsky Plays out his death scene

Not a death fic.

Response to a 20 minute challenge. Prompt words: Critical and Stable

It was a critical hit. Starsky knew it. He could feel it, but there was nothing he could do about it. He could only lie there and stare up at the ceiling. It was his own fault. He’d chosen the part he was destined to play. There was no way around it. This was always going to be the end game. He accepted it and relished the role he’d had the privilege to play. He just wished it hadn’t been so short. It was all coming to an end so soon and he had to get his last words out to the world…

“Hey Starsk,” his partner called from across the stage. “Rehearsals over.”

Starsky raised his head to look at Hutch. “But we haven’t done my death scene yet.”

Hutch looked away. “That’s for tomorrow, I told you that earlier.”

“But tomorrow is opening night.” Sitting up, Starsky wiped a bit of the fake blood off his shirt. “Are you sure you haven’t cut it out of the script?”

“Why would I do that?” Hutch said, looking a little too innocent.

“I saw your face during the first script read. Or lack of since your hands were covering it most of the time.”

Hutch sighed. “You want my honest opinion?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve seen less ham in a pig sty.”

“Excuse me?” Starsky was horrified.

“Don’t get me wrong, you were great at the soliloquy, but when it comes to pretending to die, you’re completely over the top.”

“Why did you give me the part then, Mr Director.”

“Isn’t it a tradition for the lead to be sleeping with the director?” Hutch winked.

Starsky couldn’t help smirking a little at that, but hid it by getting to his feet. “Not tonight you won’t if you cut out my death scene. I just need to work on it a little.”

“Fine, I’ll put it back in. Just…maybe try using a little personal experience to help you.”

“I’d rather not,” Starsky said, knowing exactly what Hutch was referring to. “Besides, I’m being shot, not poisoned.”

“You’ve been there too, buddy,” Hutch said softly. “You’ve nearly died enough in real life, I’d thought you’d be a natural.”

Starsky snorted. “Clearly I’m a better actor when I’m not acting.” Starsky made his way across to Hutch. “Anyway, I’m hungry, let’s get some lunch.”

“Sounds good,” Hutch said, throwing Starsky his jacket.

“And maybe later I can play director and you can perform a little death scene.” Starsky winked.