So sorry for the incredibly looooong delay in posting. RL has been a pain and left me with no desire to write –anything- for a long time. It took me forever to get this chapter done. I only hope I can keep cranking out the chapters until it's done. (fingers crossed!)

I'd like to thank those of you who are still interested enough to keep asking about this story. Big thanks to Kreek and Eli for their encouragement and comments. Bigger thanks to Pony, who should get some kind of trophy or certificate for patience in waiting for this story to be written.

The last chapter left off with Starsky being blamed for Bycroft's car accident and tossed into a small local jail where the senior Hutchins thought he had something to do with Hutch's disappearance. Hutch was left getting into a stranger's car after Bycroft had helped him escape the Van Hall Institute and Dr. Robert Lottridge's clutches…

West

Chapter 12

In a moment of pure frustration, Starsky slammed a fist into the concrete wall of his cell. Both Hutch and Bycroft were in danger. Stuck in jail, with his partner missing and Bycroft in the hospital in critical condition, he was at his wits end. If I could just get 'em to listen to reason... He snorted derisively. As if that was gonna happen any time soon with Senior Hutchinson tossing his considerable clout around. The detective knew he'd be old and gray before that pigheaded SOB would listen to him.

If he couldn't find anyone to listen, Hutch might never be found. The curly haired detective swallowed hard at that notion.

And Bycroft would most certainly be dead -if she wasn't already. He shook his head and gritted his teeth at the pain that resided in his jaw and tenderly palpated it with his fingers. There was some swelling. Old man Hutchinson had one hell of a backhand for such an old coot. The resulting fall he'd taken, didn't help matters either, his leg ached liked a blue bitch.

Frustrated and exhausted, Starsky limped to the hard cot and sat boneless onto the edge of it. The weight of his worries forced his head down and he scrubbed his face with his hands. Damn I'm tired. Tired of being in pain. Tired, tired of not being heard. And oh so tired of missing Hutch.

He couldn't put into words how much he ached to see his friend again. It was like a big chunk of him was missing. A chunk no one else could see, but that didn't make it any less absent Now to know he had be so close, only to have more doors slam in his face…

Exhausted, Starsky flopped backwards and put an arm over his eyes. He knew he wouldn't be getting any sleep, not with the lives of two people at stake. He heard the squeak and whoosh of the door that separated the jail from the office. Starsky didn't bother looking to see who'd entered, figuring it was one of the local cops about to pester him with food, water or confessing to some crime he didn't commit.

"Detective? Detective Starsky?"

The tentative voice was female and familiar, but it was not enough to make him take his arm away from his eyes. "Yeah?" He grunted disinterestedly.

"Please, I've come to beg you to tell us were Kenneth is. He needs to be back in the institute." Elizabeth Hutchinson cleared her throat before continuing. "He- he can't function outside of it… yet. Please, tell me that there is someone with him."

Starsky pulled his arm down and glumly stared up at the ceiling before quietly replying, "You don't have to beg. And I can't tell you where he is." God, I'm sick of saying that and having no one believe me.

"Can't or won't?" The slight quaver in her voice quickly hardened.

"Can't. But only because I don't know where he is or what's happened to him. I wish to God I did know." The detective turned his head and sized up the woman that had given birth to his best friend. The way he figured it, she didn't deserve to be called 'mother'. Still, she did seem concerned. He gave her an assessing look. Her clothing and hair were immaculate –as always. Her graying blonde locks were in their usual tidy bun, not a strand out of place and not a single wrinkle in her clothes, either.

Her hair must be shellacked and she must almost never sit down. Starsky snorted the notion before forging ahead. "I think Nurse Bycroft may know where he is. Or at the very least what's happened to him."

"They said that she's your accomplice," Mrs. Hutchinson's hands fluttered about like startled birds as she spoke, "and that you tried to kill her to keep her quiet." The woman glared at him.

"Don't believe everything you hear. I'm sure she knows something about Hutch and she was going to tell me. That's why I was waiting for her at that bar."

"What does she know?"

Starsky eased his bum leg over the edge, slid off the cot and carefully got to his feet. "I don't know. But she obviously knows something and because of that, she-"

"No!" Elizabeth shook her head in short, agitated shakes as she cut him off. "My husband said that she's a criminal and you helped her get a lighter sentence."

Feeling his blood pressure rise, Starsky exhaled slowly and mentally counted to ten, attempting to calm down. Exploding wouldn't help anyone right now. "There were mitigating circumstances. She saved my life back in Bay City. And by saving me, I was able to save your son. Without her help, both Hutch and I would have been murdered while we were undercover at Cabrillo. That's what we told the judge. Bycroft's crash today wasn't an accident, and contrary to what your husband and the locals think, I had nothing to do with it. She's the only one who might shed some light on this mess. I wouldn't hurt her. I need her and any information she has."

"How come I never heard of this before? You're lying!" She stomped a foot petulantly, then blushed, as though she were embarrassed to have shown any emotion.

"And you ain't listening." He barked back at her. "There's something going on here, something big, something that has to do with the Institute and Hutch, I think." Starsky shook his head. "All I know for sure is that someone wants to silence Bycroft and frame me for it. They've tried to kill her once and I think they're gonna try again, to finish the job. They're gonna succeed unless we stop them." Starsky limped across the small space to the bars and wrapped his fingers tightly around two of them, locked his eyes on hers. "You need to tell them to put a guard on that Bycroft. She's our only hope of getting any information about Hutch."

Starsky watched Mrs. Hutchinson as she gave thought about what he was saying. He could see some of Hutch in her mannerisms and posture as she processed the information. He willed her to listen. "Please. Look, if I'm lying, you'll know it soon enough. But If I'm right, you'll have helped to save Bycroft's and perhaps your son's as well."

The woman looked him up and down, her face an unreadable mask. Without further comment, she turned on a heel and exited the cell area, leaving the curly haired detective wondering whether she was going to help or not.

Disheartened, Starsky turned to look out the small barred window, he noticed it was snowing hard outside and occasionally gusts of wind would smack harder snow crystals against the glass. Even though he was warm enough in his cell, the detective couldn't help but shiver at the sight.

Nor could he help but wonder –and worry- if Hutch might be lost somewhere out in that same snowstorm.

XXXX

Nausea and pressure in his bladder woke Hutch. He was confused about where he was for several minutes. He thought, at first that he might be in the watery bury-you-in, but soon realized he wasn't. The bury-you-in didn't move. He then remembered getting into Talks a Lot's car. The blond released a long sigh of relief. His bladder nagged at him and he shifted in uncomfortably in the passenger seat of his host's car. Hutch knew he'd need to go soon. He looked out the window and saw a whiteout of falling white stuff.

Talks a Lot briefly glanced at him before returning his concentration to the road ahead and spoke. "Gottastoptoohardtodriveanymorewithallthissnowheylookatruckstop."

The words were just a stream of nonsense sounds to Hutch, and just as he'd done a hundred times since getting into the car, he nodded. His head throbbed, vying for attention. He could feel the car shifting beneath him as its momentum was slowed by the drifts. He turned his gaze out the window. It didn't help. The swirling white only made him feel sick and confused. He wrapped his arms around his stomach as a pain sliced through him. Resting his warm forehead against the cold glass, the blond slipped into an uneasy doze.

A tap on his arm woke him some time later and they pulled into an area that was well lit, or would have been, if it weren't for the heavily falling whiteness, which reminded him of… another time. Hutch's brows furrowed in concentration, but the notion evaporated as Talks A Lot's yammering interrupted his thought process.

"Herewegogonnastopuntilitletsupandplowscleartheroadslookslikeothershavethesameidea"

The nonsensical yammering stopped and noting how his driver looked about, Hutch did the same. Through the obscuring white swirls, he could barely make out other vehicles of all shapes and sizes. Some were covered with more white stuff than the others.

They entered the building together, Talks supported Hutch by one arm, helping him through the deep white stuff. The blond was nervous, but the smell of food was enticing despite his aching head. His hungry place rumbled. He rubbed it absently, he really needed to go. Now.

He looked about. There were a lot of people in here. More people than he'd seen in a long while. Too many things were going on, it was a blizzard of sound, smells and actions. Hutch shivered a little, his gut churned and his head throbbed. He was feeling sick again. He took a step backwards and another, until his back hit the door.

Talks a Lot gave him a concerned look.

Hutch gave him a little smile and glanced around. There would be a place in here for him to go. The familiar sound of rushing water caught his attention and keeping a hand on the wall to support himself, he slowly limped towards the sound. One door opened and a woman stated to exit.

He caught the edge and stopped it from closing and stepped forward.

The woman gave him a sharp look and blocked his path, babbling at him.

Hutch couldn't hide his confusion.

She babbled again and sharply stabbed at a sign on the door with one of her fingers.

Not quite knowing how to respond to what she was saying, he stepped back and nodded, holding his wrong hand out before him, palm out.

The woman snorted, shook her head and muttered under her breath as she made her way back to the packed main dining area.

Still confused the tall blond grimaced, feeling the pressure. The urge to go was getting stronger.

A man in a uniform made his way down the hall and brushed by Hutch as he entered the door across from the one the woman had exited. He stared after the man, allowing the door to close as thoughts rushed through his brain. The uniform was… was… similar to, to… something. It was familiar and gave Hutch comfortable feeling. He'd seen many, had been around people who wore them. It brought up a rightness -and mostly- positive things. Safe things.

Dark Curl's face popped unexpectedly to the forefront of his mind and just as quickly disappeared. Hutch realized with a start that he, Dark Curls and uniforms went together. Sort of, the picture wasn't quite right, but still… the memory was there, lurking.

Breath hissed from between clenched teeth as the images blurred. He reluctantly let them go.

For now.

He pushed on the door and entered. The smell of the room was familiar, and so were the white objects lining the wall for were for washing hands. Above those were reflection givers. There were a couple of small stalls that had swirly flushes hidden behind doors. On the other wall were… the word escaped him, they weren't … swirly flushes… but he knew what they were for. He stepped up to one next the uniformed man.

Hutch looked into the small basin and saw a pink disk that gave off a flowery scent. The combination of the flower and the waste smell made his nose twitch in disgust. He was now certain he was in the right place. As to how to proceed was his major concern. He knew that he had done this many times, long ago. But he had fasteners on the cloth that covered his lower half.

He closed his eyes and tried to picture how to do it in his head. His faulty brain skittered all around the subject, never landing on the solution. He nearly groaned in frustration. An idea popped into his head and opened his eyes and peeked at his neighbor to see how it was done.

Fixing his eyes on the man's hands, Hutch struggled to copy his moves. Only his fingers fumbled with the seemingly too small metal object. His bad, weak hand wouldn't cooperate with his wrong hand. He groaned softly in frustration as he struggled with the fastener. He groaned softly, out was a very complicated place. Sensing some movement, Hutch looked up to see the uniformed man glaring at him.

"Damnpervwhatdoyouthinkyourlookinat"

Hutch couldn't comprehend the words, but understanding the tone, put his hands up, palms out, the bad hand actually obeying, for once. He remained silent, not wanting to attempt to speak, somehow knowing it would make things worse.

The man tucked himself away, closed his fastener and advanced on Hutch. "Whatsamatterwithyouhuhyoudontgostaringatanothermaninthejohniwantanapology" He poked a finger deep into Hutch's chest.

Not sure how to respond, Hutch shrugged and started to turn, wanting to get away from the man who he'd obviously angered.

"Stupidnutjobgobackwhereyoucamefrom"

Back. Hutch's head jerked up in alarm.

Though buried in amongst all those other senseless sounds, that word was clear. The meaning was clear. Back meant more push-plunges. Back meant being put in the watery bury-you-in. Back was the last place he wanted to go.

"Nuh!" Fear drove Hutch to push the uniformed man out of his way and bolt out the door. The man bellowed and yelled as he fell.

Pushing was wrong. Pushing was punished. With the-bury-you in and push-plunges. Fear welled up and Hutch forced his damaged body to move faster than he'd ever been able to before. People were standing and moving in his direction as he entered the main room.

Behind him, the uniformed man bellowed again.

Some people stepped towards Hutch, others backed away. All was confusion. The shouts, babbles and movement frightened him. He shoved his way to the door he and Talks a Lot had entered. He forced himself to keep moving away from the noise and headed into the howling darkness and cold, swirling white stuff.

TBC