That sound.

That horrible, clanging final sound. Sure, he'd heard it enough times in his career as a police officer, but never like today, from this side. Never had it been for him, to keep him in, to take away his freedom. He flinched as he walked through one more doorway, as the bars clanged and the locks turned one more time, cutting him off from everything he knew and loved, from all things sane, imprisoning him in his cell.

His cell.

Starsky walked over, sat down on the edge of the bunk and dropped his head into his hands.