Hide and Seek

Hutch’s train of thought as he heads back to Simon Marcus.

Author’s Notes: This was originally written in answer to Prompt Fic week 15 on the LiveJournal Starsky and Hutch community.
It was written for prompt: Starsky+/Hutch; Hide and Seek

Hutch left Dobey behind on the hillside and got in the Torino, slamming the door shut harder than necessary but needing some sort of physical outlet and in the absence of anything to push or punch, the door would have to do.

He slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and fingered the leather of Starsky’s badge wallet before pulling away in a cloud of dust, thoughts racing through his pounding headache far too fast for any one coherent idea to get a foothold in the logical parts of his brain that maybe, just maybe, could reason out a decent lead to his partner.

At least the blood wasn’t Starsky’s. That was some comfort. Although, really, what comfort was it when it was all, as he told Dobey just minutes before, a twisted sadistic game? There was never any intention of returning Starsky, no matter what demands were met or not met. They were killing him anyway and it was actually possible, knowing, unfortunately, the pleasure these people took in vile, ruthless, inhumane acts such as blowing up the poor rancher, that Starsky was already dead. That, as Dobey had so bluntly answered him, was always the bottom line.

Going to Marcus again was an act of desperation he knew would get him even farther nowhere than he already was. He knew just what would happen because let’s face it, he couldn’t possibly play good cop and bad cop at the same time. Flustered without Starsky, he’d unfortunately tried that tactic the last time. All it got him was an icy stare and a sinister grin through a wild mane of hair during which an empty feeling in the pit of his gut made it strikingly clear that the fear he felt at the absence of Starsky was a physical pain words couldn’t nearly explain but controlled his every movement and interrupted his every thought. Marcus, the bastard, knew this and used it to render Hutch powerless in his presence.

Sweat trickled itchy and wet down Hutch’s neck, soaking the back of his shirt. His hand found it’s way back to Starsky’s badge. Over and over he saw Starsky heading to the john. If he could go back, if he could just change one little thing, if he had gone with him, maybe, or reminded him to pee before they went into the courtroom and then waited for him before joining Dobey, if, if, if, if… He had… dammit, he had joked with Dobey about when something works, stick with it. Stupid, ludicrous, absurd ritual Starsky insisted on and why in the hell did he support it?

And now some crazy lethal freak of nature with a following of loyal murderers was playing hide and seek with his partner. Hutch drove faster and faster, as much to escape the debilitating trains of thought as to get to Marcus.