Disclaimer: This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of Starsky and Hutch.

Warning: "In a Blink of an Eye" might be considered a dark tale and contains some graphic scenes and foul language that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. Please consider yourself warned, I would hate to spoil someone's fun.

A/N: Aloha Everyone,

A very Happy Mother's Day to all of you wonderful ladies who have children. Being a teacher and a mother myself, I know how very crucial and important having a great role model is to a child's development and nothing can beat the love of a caring and nurturing mother. I hope all you moms out there have an awesome day for there is no one more deserving of being honored than you!

Although this story has nothing to do with Mother's Day, I am back again with another tale to tell. As of yet, I don't really know how many chapters this story will consist of, but I hope that you will be content to just ride along with me on this journey. I had promised a dear friend of mine that I would post the prologue and the first chapter this weekend, so here I am! As always, I look forward to hearing from you and I hope that you enjoy this first sampling of more to follow. Once again, please take the time to read the warning above, for I truly don't want to offend anyone, and it is never my intention to do so.

Love and light to you always . . . Shawne 'Til Dawn

~ In a Blink of an Eye ~

~Prologue~

"Why don't you sit down over there? I'm told that armchair is the most comfortable seat I have here in my office . . . how does it feel?"

"Okay."

"Great! Would you like some coffee or tea? I have cream and sugar or . . ."

"Look . . . can we just get to the point? I don't wanna be here and the more small talk you make, just means that it'll take longer to leave."

"Okay. I totally understand, Dave. So . . . why don't you tell me why you're here."

"Read the report on your desk. I'm sure ya know why I'm here."

(A quiet chuckle fills the room.)

"I've read the report, but I'd like to hear it from you. What happened, Dave?"

(A heavy sigh fills the silence.)

"Dave?"

"I don' know . . . guess I lost it."

"I see. What made you 'lose' it?"

"Read the report!"

"Tell me. I get paid to listen to you."

(A soft snort and a brief lopsided grin.)

"What do you wanna know?"

"Everything. Start from the beginning."

(Another heavy sigh.)

"It's okay, Dave. I read the report remember?"

(Another brief grin, damp hands rubbing anxiously against jean-clad thighs.)

"Okay. Well . . .we, me and Hutch, he's my partner you saw outside. Anyway, we responded to a 415 a coupl'a months ago . . ."

"A 415?"

"Disturbance of the peace."

"Oh, okay. Go on . . ."

"So we get to the address and we knock and wait for someone to answer the door . . ."

~Chapter 1~

They had waited patiently after politely knocking on the stained portal, but it was the stifled scream that came from within that made the detectives draw their weapons and quickly take action. With his back pressed against the wall and his gun pointing straight up, Starsky shifted his eyes to his partner, nodding slightly as Hutch forcefully kicked in the flimsy door, splintering it easily with a sharp blow from the flat bottom of his large shoe. As always, the brunet went low while the blond remained high, their timing was perfect and in sync. Like a well-oiled machine, both men cautiously stepped into the filthy home, their guns leading the way, their footsteps muffled on the threadbare carpet.

It was obvious to both cops that the living room had been hastily abandoned; a lit cigarette still burned in the stinking tuna can that posed as an astray and sat at the edge of the scarred wooden table near one end of the stained and dilapidated couch. Hutch took the left, checking the bedroom and the bathroom while Starsky warily moved into the kitchen. A half eaten bag of potato chips and an open can of beer lay on the counter nearest the stove, evidence that someone had been in the kitchen not too long before. Starsky continued to look around.

Nothing.

The brunet could feel his heart thumping in response to the adrenalin rushing through his body as his dark blue eyes alighted upon the narrow closed door that led from the kitchen to the basement below. Starsky glanced at his partner who stepped silently into the kitchen then shifted his eyes to the door. Hutch nodded in response, knuckles whitening around the handle of the cannon he held firmly in his hand, following just behind his dark haired counterpart.

The call had come from dispatch, a 415, disturbance of the peace. Neighbors reported crying and screaming coming from this residence and Starsky and Hutch had responded immediately as they were nearest the vicinity. When they first got there Starsky thought it might have been a false alarm, but hearing the soft whimpering sound coming from within the house just minutes ago made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The brunet reached out and slowly turned the knob, silently opening the door to the basement.

The musty smell of antiquated junk and stale air assailed the nostrils of the detectives as they descended. Both cops squinted, allowing their eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness that engulfed them as they cautiously made their way down the rickety wooden steps that seemed to lead them deep into the bowels of the earth. The dark haired detective glanced over his shoulder making eye contact with his blond partner, grimacing slightly as the stairs protested loudly, creaking and groaning under each well placed step of Starsky's blue nylon covered Adidas. Though they strained to see, they could make nothing out except the vague gray shapes of stacked boxes that lined the nearest wall.

"Stop where you! Don't come any closer . . . I'm warning you!"

A disembodied voice called out from the darkness and both detectives instantly stilled; carefully listening to the soft, but frantic whispering that remained unintelligible to straining ears. A quiet rustling could be heard, a chain being yanked, and then a sickly yellow light that dimly lit the interior of the basement made both detectives squint once more. The swaying bulb hanging overhead created shadows that drifted to and fro and Starsky's eyes widened as he caught sight of the hefty, balding man who stood to the far side of the room, his meaty hands held his victim roughly in front of him. The young boy was naked, bruised and battered; his green eyes seemed lifeless and dazed as he stared straight ahead at the detectives, yet saw nothing. It was obvious to both detectives that the boy was in shock.

"You come any closer and I'll kill him. I swear!" the fat pedophile snarled, the knife he held against the boy's jugular vein pressed deeper, nicking the pale, tender skin as droplets of blood welled beneath the sharpened blade. Though it must have stung, Hutch noted that the traumatized boy hadn't even flinched.

The fat man's face suddenly softened and look of fear crossed his chubby, flushed features. Although a nervous tic appeared under the assailant's left eye, he tightened his hold onto the youngster. "Y-you gotta let me go. I'm sorry! I didn't mean to -- it never went this far before. I don't know what happened. It just kinda g-got away from me, you know? The perpetrator stammered as sweat dripped and beaded on the top of his glistening head, the flickering light distorting his features as it swayed overhead.

"Take it easy," Starsky whispered, his voice rough with suppressed emotions. "Just . . . just let the kid go and we can work something out, okay? Release the boy and . . ."

"F-fuck you! Don't lie to me. I ain't no dummy. Stand b-back and drop your guns or I'm gonna slice him open, y'hear me?" the man snapped, his face hardening again, dark eyes flashing with each swing from the bulb overhead. The hand holding the knife was shaking so badly; it was obvious that the pedophile was losing it.

Starsky's dark blue eyes narrowed, growing brighter with the anger he was barely containing as he looked at the battered kid. Blatantly ignoring the fat man, Starsky softly called out, "Sean? Is that your name?" The boy's unfocused gaze shifted slowly to the curly haired cop, flickering briefly with life and understanding before the hefty arm brutally holding him cinched even tighter and the young boy's eyes became hazy and dull once more.

Sean Fitzgerald, green eyes, dark blond hair, nearly 10 years old. It had to be him. He'd been missing since Saturday afternoon. An A.P.B. had been put out on the kid after his mother's frantic call to the station alerted everyone to his disappearance from the park, the boy's usual stomping ground. Starsky glanced back at Hutch and saw his partner's imperceptible nod, the blond confirming silently what Starsky already suspected.

"You think I'm fuckin' jokin', don't you?" the bald man snapped, his breathing ragged and unsteady. He narrowed his eyes and swallowed, blinking away the sting of sweat that dripped from his stubby lashes. When he looked at the detectives once more, tears welled in his dark eyes and his thick bottom lip quivered. "I just wanna get out of here, okay? I m-made a huge mistake. I don't know what's wrong with me. I shouldn'ta done what I did, but he's still alive, right? That's gotta count for somethin' . . . r-right?"

"Yes, it does. Take it easy, man. What's your name, sir?" Hutch asked quietly. Though his voice was soothing and calm, Starsky could see the fire burning behind the ice blue of his partner's eyes.

"Name's Frank," the fat man whispered, his voice lowering as it echoed the quiet volume of the blond haired cop. "Please, officer, I'm s-sorry for hurting the boy. He's just so beautiful y'know? So beautiful with his long lashes and his jade green eyes and I . . . I took him and I . . . did some stuff with him, but he's okay. He really is. I promise."

Starsky could feel the anger boiling within as he stared at Sean who was obviously so brutalized and traumatized that he had retreated deep within, locking himself away from the horrific reality of the past three days. The little boy was naked and shivering; the bruises standing out against the paleness of his freckled skin made the cop want to scream in frustration. But it was the boy's eyes that made Starsky's heart hurt the most. Those mossy green eyes, fringed with heavy dark lashes, were now vacant and void of any emotion or recognition of the danger that he was in and seeing it made Starsky's gut roil and burn.

It killed the brunet to know that they got there too late, to know that the good guys probably wouldn't even have found Sean until much later if it hadn't been for some nosy and irritated neighbors. To find the boy this way was like taking a punch in the stomach. Like everyone else, Starsky had seen the pictures Sean's mother had given to the station of her son and it was the boy's eyes that had drawn Starsky in; eyes that were once filled with joy and exuberance were now dead and lifeless and the dark haired cop could feel himself angrily clenching the handle of his gun, his finger restlessly rubbing against the trigger.

"Listen to me, Frank," Hutch began softly, "Everyone makes mistakes. Just give me the knife and let the boy go. Me and my partner will help you, but you have to trust us. Just move away from the kid . . ."

"No!" Frank shouted, his arm tightening around the youngster, the sharp blade unintentionally pressing harder against Sean's neck. A look of anger and hate twisted the predator's face, changing him from the weepy man who seconds ago was begging for understanding, into this mentally unstable and hostile monster. The soft gasp that came from the naked boy made Starsky unconsciously take a step forward, the brunet innately needing to comfort and protect the scared and traumatized child from further abuse.

Frank's bloodshot eyes widened as he glared at the dark haired cop. "Don't fuckin' move! You think I'm lying? That I don't have the balls to do it?" The fat man frantically shouted, his knife hand shaking as it scratched the tender skin of the boy, spilling even more blood. The yelling and the shallow slice made the young boy quake even more and his green eyes darted to Starsky's face; losing it's dazed look as pain and fear widened the green pupils even more.

"Frank! Take it easy! Calm down!" Hutch interjected, raising his own voice to be heard above the shouting from the balding man, his free hand reaching out to hold his partner back from taking another step towards the frightened child. "Just calm down, Frank, we're here to help you, okay?" The tall blond cop could see how Frank was barely holding it together, jumping back and forth between two personality types. Hutch had to silently wonder if the perp was schizophrenic, or just overly nervous and guilt ridden. In any case, there was no time for speculation as the now lucid young boy suddenly cried out, his voice soft and strangled.

"P-please . . . help me! I want . . . I want my mama . . ." The young boy's beseeching eyes never left Starsky's face and the brunet could feel himself inadvertently moving forward once more, responding to the terror he could hear in the kid's voice.

Frank's eyes narrowed in anger as his thick forearm shoved against the Sean's fragile windpipe, the blade hovering against the pulsing jugular of the boy. "Fucking shit! You asked for it, it's your fault the kid's gonna die!" Both detectives lunged forward, but not before the fat man yanked the sharp blade down, dragging the razor-like tip across the throat of the child, violently pushing Sean away so that he could make his own escape.

"Nooooo!" Starsky shouted; fear and anger merging together as he caught the boy before he could hit the unforgiving ground while Hutch ran after the murderous pedophile. The curly haired cop hurriedly laid the child flat onto the dirty concrete, shoved his gun into the back waistband of his jeans, and then whipped off his leather jacket, covering the bleeding boy, surrounding him in comforting warmth. Quickly tearing off his tee-shirt, Starsky pressed the fabric against the gaping slice on the boy's throat. The brunet hovered over the child, his fingers trembling as the cloth beneath his hand grew warm and saturated with blood. Though he vaguely heard sirens approaching in the distance, all Starsky could see were the boy's green eyes staring up at him in the dim swaying light, silently begging the cop to save him.

"Hang on, Sean, h-hang on!" Starsky stammered, his own throat bobbing convulsively as he swallowed down the bile that rose from his gut. He watched as the boy's pale lips moved, forming words that couldn't as yet be heard. "Shh . . . don't talk, just hang on! It's gonna be okay, help is on the way."

The brunet could see Sean struggling to say something amid the tiny gasps of air that he tried to take in. Pushing the cloth harder against the open wound, Starsky continued to murmur inane reassurances while he unconsciously lowered his head closer the boy's face.

"M-ma . .. ma . .."

Tears welled up in the cop's eyes and Starsky quickly blinked them away as he once again looked into those hauntingly green eyes that were growing dimmer by the second. "She's coming, Sean. You hear me?" the brunet raised his voice, panicking as the boy's trembling body suddenly shook violently beneath his hands. "She's been lookin' all over for you, so you gotta hang on, okay? You hear me, Sean? Your ma loves you so much and she's comin' for ya . . ."

Starsky could feel hot tears streaming down his cheeks as he saw the pale face nod imperceptibly while long dark lashes gently lowered, hiding the green eyes that had hazed over once more before they became forever sightless. Starsky shook his head, refusing to give up, pressing harder against the boy's throat.

"No . . ." the cop whispered, his voice broken and hoarse. "No!"

Inwardly, the brunet knew Sean was dead, that the spirit that lit those green eyes had been snubbed out like the burning end of a cigarette crushed against the bottom of a dirty ashtray. Starsky knew that the trembling beneath his hands were not the bruised and battered body of the naked little boy, but the quaking he felt in his own cold and heavy limbs. Squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head in denial, the dark haired cop continued to administer first aid to the still warm body beneath his hands.

"Starsk?"

He heard them comin' before Hutch even called out. Loud footsteps made their way down the rickety staircase, but Starsky continued to press the heavy cloth against Sean's neck, whispering soft words of comfort to the still and lifeless child.

"Starsky?"

Hutch faltered, pushing the cuffed man before him as the swaying bulb that had finally come to a stop encircled his partner and the little boy in a sickly circle of yellow light. He could see Starsky crouched over the boy, shirtless and shaking. His hands were stained red and flecks of blood were splattered over his forearms and chest.

"Oh my God! I told you! I told you . . ." Frank cried out, dark eyes narrowed as a look of rage passed over his face. "You fuckin' bastard, you killed him! You killed my beautiful boy! You just couldn't listen, could you? I told you not to come closer. I warned you! You wanted me to do it, didn't you? You wanted me to kill my sweet boy because you wanted him for yourself! Didn't you? You sick fuck!"

Hutch's eyes widened in surprise as his partner lunged for the handcuffed man, angrily pushing the blond back in the process. Starsky grabbed the fat man with a snarl and brutally slammed Frank against the wall only to hammer his fists repeatedly into the soft belly of the pedophile, ending with an uppercut to the flabby jaw of the bald man. The older man's legs gave out and Starsky quickly dragged him back up as Frank began to slump to the floor.

The brunet's voice was low and ominous as he hissed, "I'm gonna kill you, you sick son of a bitch! The world don't need any more scums like you! You're nuthin' but a low life piece of shit!" Blue eyes shot hot daggers of hate and rage at the fat, trembling man who quaked and moaned in pain.

"Starsky!" Hutch shouted. "That's enough!" The blond haired cop reached over to lay his hand upon his partner's shoulder only to have his dark haired counterpart slap it away. Hutch stared at his partner, noting the wild and angry look that blazed in a sea of cobalt blue. "Starsk?"

"Back off, Hutch!" Starsky snapped, his lip curling in a feral snarl. "See this?" the brunet held up his hands, blood stained and sticky, ignoring the pedophile as he dropped heavily to the floor. "The kid didn't stand a chance, Hutch. His blood is all over me. You didn't watch the light go out from his eyes, or hear him calling for his mother, but I did! It was pitiful and this bastard needs to be wasted . . ." Starsky immediately turned his back on his partner and began to kick the downed man, bracing his blood stained hands against the wall to give him leverage as he used the power of his legs to brutally smash Frank into the concrete. Each well-placed kick slightly lifted the hefty man, rocking him into the hollow-tiled wall as painful grunts and cries filled the dimly lit basement.

"Starsk! I said that's enough!" Hutch repeated, grabbing his partner by the shoulder to push him away from the battered man. The blond cop bent to help the cuffed and beaten perpetrator to his feet, but the familiar 'click' behind him made Hutch freeze, the fine hairs on the back of his neck rose in wariness. Hutch slowly turned, ice blue eyes widening as he took in the gun pointed straight at him.

"I said to back off, Hutch!" Starsky snarled, cobalt eyes narrowing in anger. The brunet shoved his partner to the side and aimed the gun he'd drawn from the back of his jeans at the broken man who still lay crumpled at his feet.

"P-please . . . no . . . I'm sorry. Don't shoot! I don't wanna die . . ." Frank sobbed as he rolled to his side, tears streaming down his pudgy cheeks. "I don't wanna die. Please! I just made a mistake! I don't wanna die!"

"You should've thought of that before you sliced the kid open!" Starsky snarled, stepping in close to viciously kick the downed man once again. A feral smile smeared the brunet's face as the pedophile screamed in pain once more.

"Starsky . . ." Hutch began gently, his voice soothing and calm. "Listen to me, buddy."

Hutch swiped his tongue against his lower lip as his partner turned to look at him, the deep and turbulent blue of the sea meshed with the soft azure of the sky. Hutch took in a calming breath and spoke, using the voice and honey-laced tone that he only reserved for his partner. He could see the fine tremors that wracked the brunet's body, could see the heavy lift of his friend's chest as Starsky rapidly took in the air he needed to calm himself down.

Never losing eye contact, Hutch began, "I know you're hurting, Starsk; that watching the boy die in your arms makes you want to lash out and seek vengeance, but let's do this the right way, okay?" The blond haired cop spoke softly, taking small tentative steps towards his dark haired counterpart who breathed heavily in the quiet stillness of the room.

Hutch moved closer, his hand held out in an entreating manner. No one knew Starsky better than the blond, and Hutch knew he needed to tread lightly. His partner was hurt and fragile, like a wild and wounded panther ready to lash out at anyone who came near. Hutch could see the confusion that clouded his partner's eyes as he drew closer; the brunet was filled with pain and anger. Hutch knew that Starsky would never have drawn and pointed his gun towards him unless he was near to losing it. His dark haired friend was balancing on the edge of a precipice and only compassion and gentleness would tame the fire that burned in Starsky's bright, blue eyes.

"Starsky, we'll take him in and let the law met out the punishment he deserves. If you blow him away now, buddy, you'd be taking the law into your own hands. You'd be no better than a vigilante and it'll be you the law will come after." Hutch's eyes softened even more as he stared into the familiar blue flames of sapphire. "You're my partner, my friend, and I wouldn't want to have to hunt you down, Starsky. It would kill me to do that!"

Hutch slowly reached out to gently touch his partner, relying on non-verbal skills to relay to his wounded friend how much he cared. Laying the warmth of his large hand upon the shoulder of the brunet, Hutch could feel the imperceptible tremors shaking his partner. "It's okay, Starsk, I'm here now. It'll be okay, buddy."

"It'll never be okay for him." The dark haired cop nodded towards the small lifeless body; pale mottled skin almost seemed to glow under the dim light from the hanging bulb. The dark bruises and red rivulets of blood stood out gruesomely under the waning light. "It'll never be okay for his ma neither."

Hutch swallowed the lump that formed in his throat at the abject hurt and weariness he heard in his partner's rough and broken voice. "I know, buddy. I know."

What more could he say? Hutch gently squeezed his partner's shoulder and then moved his hand to rub small circles onto the brunet's bare back, watching as small goose bumps rose on the muscled arm that held the gun up, knuckles whitened as it gripped the handle tighter.

"Give me the gun, pal." Hutch whispered. "Let's do our job the right way and take this scum in. Let the law deal with what he did here today."

"They'll let him out. You know that. Somehow they always do."

Hutch continued to rub circles, easing the strained muscles on his partner's back. There was nothing he could say to his partner's last comment. Too many times it was as Starsky predicted; the bad guys were often released faster than they could bring them in. The blond cop nodded silently in agreement and then slowly reached for the gun, covering his large hand over the brunet's, feeling Starsky ease up on his hold of the Baretta. "That's it, buddy. Just give me the gun."

Hutch gently removed the weapon from his partner's cold and limp fingers. "That's it, Starsk, it'll be okay."

"Will it?" Starsky asked softly, turning his head slightly to look over his shoulder at his best friend and partner.

Hutch could hear the tired resignation in his friend's voice and he swallowed the thick lump that formed in his throat. The tall blond cop could see the pain in his partner's eyes as it desperately searched his own. Gently turning his friend around, Hutch wrapped the trembling brunet in the warmth of his embrace, squeezing gently on the nape of Starsky's neck, feeling the familiar curls brush against his hand as the dark haired cop pressed his forehead against Hutch's.

"You gonna make it?" Hutch asked after a brief moment of silence. He could feel the slight nod before Starsky sighed and then answered.

"Yeah. 'M fine."

Hutch snorted softly, "Yeah, I know you are." The tall blond gently ruffled the top of his partner's sable curls as Starsky silently pulled away and then said, "Let's get this asshole out of here and then we'll call for the coroner's team, okay?"

"'Kay." Starsky mumbled. Both cops turned quickly to look back at the quiet shuffle that came from the stairwell. Standing at the bottom of the rickety steps stood two patrol officers who gaped at the detectives, guns drawn, eyes and mouths wide open.

Starsky pulled himself to stand erect at his full height, dark blue eyes shifted to look at his blond partner who wondered just how much those two patrolmen had witnessed.

To be continued . . .