Touching Warm

Table of Contents

After being rescued from the canyon, Starsky takes care of Hutch at home and Hutch comes to realize that his feelings for Starsky have changed. Can he ever tell him, especially now that Starsky has met someone special?

Originally published in Venice Place Chronicles Volume II.

“Starsky, you know I love you, but… ” Hutch paused, his eyes going to the old Ford sitting a few yards away that looked so much like his car, now residing in a junkyard. “Our taste in wheels don’t exactly match, you know?”

Starsky, oblivious, just kept pushing the wheelchair toward that Ford. “Yes, sir, you’re gonna love this little buggy. A genuine Hutchinson original. Or should I say… replica of the same. Complete with assorted dents, dings, and putrefied upholstery… ”

The rest was lost on Hutch, who couldn’t take his eyes off the car. He had no idea how Starsky had done it, but somehow he’d found a car so exactly like his wrecked one that most people wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. Hutch could, of course. This one had dings in different places. The rusty spot on the right front of the bumper wasn’t there.

He didn’t hear any of the rest of what Starsky said until his partner opened the driver’s door, making the horn blare. A sudden mist of tears half blinded him and he didn’t realize that Starsky was waiting for him to say something until Starsky said, a slight worried tone in his voice, “What’s a’matter? Don’t you like it?”

Hutch struggled to his feet, barely managing to balance on the crutches with his now-trembling hands. “Starsky,” he began, then had to pause again, this time to steady his voice. “It’s beautiful. Just beautiful.” His voice choked a little, in spite of his best efforts.

Starsky made a disgusted face. “That’s what I was afraid you were gonna say.”

Hutch, realizing that Starsky was carrying this whole thing off as if it were a joke, forced a grin and held out his hands, crutches still in them and said, “Ahhh.” Starsky grinned back at him, and the moment safely passed.

He couldn’t drive it home, of course. His cast made his leg immobile and would have made squeezing into the driver’s seat uncomfortable if not impossible. Besides, Starsky wouldn’t hear of it.

“It’ll be okay here,” he said. ”Nobody’s gonna steal that, I guarantee you. Me and Huggy’ll come back later and pick it up. Now get your blond behind in my car and I’ll take ya home.”

Hutch pretended to give in reluctantly, but his leg was hurting pretty badly and it was still an hour before he could take a pain pill. He was actually quite willing to let Starsky take him home and fuss over him a bit and he was sure Huggy would be there with decent food waiting, too. He let Starsky help him into the passenger side of the Torino and waited while he took the wheelchair back into the hospital.

“So, do you really like it?” Starsky asked once he had the Torino on the street and rolling toward Hutch’s place.

“I really do,” Hutch said. “How on Earth did you do that?”

Starsky grinned wickedly. “I can’t reveal my sources,” he said with mock self-importance. “Huggy helped. That’s all I’m gonna say.”

“Did you do something illegal?” Hutch demanded, going along with the joke.

Starsky shook his curly head. “Nope. Scout’s honor. Signed, sealed and delivered, as soon as I get you settled and collect Hug.”

It was probably the most touching gesture Starsky could have made, finding a car for Hutch to replace the one he’d wrecked when Roy Slater had shoved him off into that canyon. That had been a close call. He couldn’t remember much of the trip down the hillside, for which he was grateful, but most of the endless hours he’d spent trapped under his car, alternately praying for rescue and wishing he could just die and get it over with, were all too clear. He’d relived those hours in his nightmares the entire time he was in the hospital.

He’d never forget the touch of shaking hands on his face as Starsky gently picked up his head and said, “We made it, partner.” He’d been fading in and out by then, worn out from his ordeal, having hallucinations, but he’d known when he looked up and saw tears in Starsky’s eyes that he was safe at last. It was still an ordeal to get the car moved and his battered body to the hospital, and the days at the hospital while they set his leg and dealt with his dehydration and various other injuries had been unpleasant, to say the least. But Starsky had been there every moment he wasn’t working and had even slept there the first night.

“You’re quiet,” Starsky remarked, stopping for a light. “You okay? You in pain?”

“I’m fine,” Hutch said, coming out of his funk with a start. “Just damned glad to be out of that hospital.”

“I hear ya, buddy,” Starsky said, starting up again when the light turned green.

Huggy was waiting at Hutch’s and he did have a “decent meal”- Hutch’s idea of one, anyway, ready to eat. A couple of thick turkey breast sandwiches with bean sprouts, a salad with the dressing Huggy’s cook, Angie, had invented just for Hutch, and a sack full of bananas and oranges. Between the two of them, they got Hutch up the stairs. They had a bad moment or two when Hutch almost lost his balance due to his inexperience with the crutches. But, finally, Hutch was safely installed on his couch, with the food in easy reach and the last week’s newspapers and Time Magazine nearby to keep him entertained.

“Now, you can’t take another pain pill until three-thirty,” Starsky said, just before he and Huggy left to retrieve Hutch’s new old car.

“I know.”

“Your mom wants you to call her,” Starsky continued.

“Okay. I’ll call.”

“And my mom wants you to call her, too,” Starsky said, his eyes twinkling.

“I’ll call her first,” Hutch said obediently.

Starsky grinned. “Okay. We’ll be back in a little while. Don’t move around if you don’t have to. The doctor said to rest.”

“I’ll rest. Would you two get out of here, please? You’d think I was four and not bright for my age.”

“No gratitude,” Starsky said to Huggy, pretending disgust.

Huggy chuckled and gave Starsky a push toward the door. “He’ll be fine. We’ll only be gone about twenty minutes. Let’s go.”

Starsky was unnaturally quiet on the way back to the hospital, and Huggy let it ride as long as he could stand to. Finally, he reached out a slender hand and poked him in the arm.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“Huh?”

“You’re about a million miles away,” Huggy said. “What’s worryin’ you?”

Starsky gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Nothin’.”

“Bullshit. What is it? You and Blondie got the bad guys. He’s safe and gonna be fine. So what could be the problem?”

“Ain’t no problem.”

Huggy sighed. He knew better, but when Starsky got like this, only Hutch could pry information out of him. They pulled into the hospital parking lot and Starsky had to get out of the car to pull the keys out of his jeans pocket. He tossed them to Huggy.

“Meet ya back at Hutch’s.”

“Right on,” Huggy said, getting into the car and starting it up. He couldn’t help grinning at the tiny toggle switch, almost hidden next to the driver’s door, that Merle had installed so Starsky could sound the horn when he opened the door for Hutch earlier and make it seem as if the horn blew by itself. Those two, he thought fondly.

Starsky beat him back to Hutch’s, as he’d figured. For one thing, Starsky drove a lot faster than he did. For another, he’d had to wait for a train. When he entered the apartment, there was something odd in the air. Something he decided he’d better let these two work out for themselves.

“Here are the keys to the latest Hutchinson Bomb,” he said cheerfully, picking up Hutch’s hand and depositing the keys into it. “She runs like a top, Blondie. Merle went through her with a fine tooth comb a couple of days ago. And there is NO fake fur customization.”

Hutch smiled. “Thanks, Huggy. And thank Merle for me, too, okay?”

“Will do.” He paused looking from one to the other. Definitely, something was off. And the vibes were coming from Curly. “Well, if’n y’all don’t need nothin’ else, I guess I’ll split.”

“I’ll take it from here, Hug,” Starsky said and there was a definite tone of dismissal in his voice.

Huggy gave a mock salute and left.

Hutch sighed and stretched a little, getting the kinks out of is muscles. He hated hospitals, hated hospital food, hospital beds, hospital smells…It was nice to be home on his own lumpy couch. He gave Starsky a grin. “Thanks, buddy.”

“For what?”

“Everything,” Hutch said. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Starsky grinned back. “Me, neither.”

At three-thirty on the dot, Starsky brought Hutch a pain pill and a glass of water to wash it down with. In a few minutes, the pill started to work and made Hutch so sleepy he couldn’t keep his eyes open, try as he might.

“You snuggle down and snooze,” Starsky said, fluffing the sofa pillows. “Best thing for you.”

“But-”

“But nothin’,” Starsky said. “I can see you’re fighting it. Don’t. Not for me. Go on, sleep.”

Hutch lay down and let Starsky drape an afghan over him and it wasn’t very long before he was sound asleep. Starsky sat down in a chair and opened a book on his lap, but he couldn’t concentrate on it.

“Starsky, you know I love you, but – ” But what?

No one could have called Starsky and Hutch undemonstrative. No one who knew them doubted their bond. But they weren’t in the habit of saying “I love you.” Hutch was more prone to terms of endearment and obvious demonstrations of affection. He called Starsky “buddy” almost as much as he used his name. He touched more often. He liked to fix his food for him and set it in front of him, as if he were a child or helpless to do it himself. Starsky understood his partner’s need to do these things and put up with it, even when it irritated him.

Starsky, on the other hand, went for a lighter touch. He preferred to joke, even when deeply touched. It was safer, less … scary, maybe.

“If this was a cowboy movie, I’d give you my boots. You‘re my pal, Hutch.”

That was his way. Hutch had known what he meant. He was sure of that. He’d seen the softening of his partner’s eyes and felt the grip of Hutch’s hand in his.

Hutch knew….

Hutch knew, when Starsky had crumpled into his arms outside Janos’ studio and clung to him as his only anchor. He knew, when Starsky had cleaned up after him and stayed awake with him as he kicked the horse cold turkey.

And Starsky knew, too, that at this point, with all they’d suffered and survived so far, neither one would be complete without the other.

He looked over at the couch. Hutch always looked so young and vulnerable when he was sleeping. The worry lines in his forehead and around his mouth smoothed and he looked like a little boy. A soft sort of tenderness formed in Starsky’s heart as he watched him. It had been close this time. The doctor had told him, out of Hutch’s hearing, that another night trapped there with no food or water would have finished him. It got cold in the canyon at night, and Hutch had not been dressed for that, either. He was lucky he hadn’t had pneumonia, on top of everything else.

God, buddy. Why didn’t you call and tell me you were going to meet that sneaky snitch? He doesn’t trust me, because he knows I don’t trust him. With good reason, looks like. He sold you out, Hutch.

Hutch was still sleeping around five when Terry showed up. She’d promised to come and bring supper with her, knowing Starsky wouldn’t be able to come up with a meal that would tempt Hutch. Starsky had only been dating Terry for a couple of months, but already he’d come to depend on her understanding and her instinct for knowing when he needed her. He answered her knock with a finger on his lips. “He’s asleep.”

She nodded and indicated the grocery sack in her arm. “Where’s the kitchen?”

He opened the door wider and pointed. It was a small apartment; no way she could get lost. She saw the thought on his face, gave a wicked grin, and tiptoed up to give him a peck on the cheek before heading there to start the meal. Starsky went back to his book. He knew from experience that Terry did not want his help until after the meal. She would cook. He would clean up.

In less time than he’d have thought possible, smells of a meal came wafting through the room, and Terry was sitting serenely on the floor next to the couch, gently stroking the hair back from Hutch’s eyes. He was so sound asleep he never stirred at her touch, and she shook her head and turned to Starsky.

“His hair is like spun gold, isn’t it?”

Starsky smiled at her without a thought of jealousy at her remark. “Yeah. Soft as silk, too.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Is he really okay?”

“He will be. He had a tough time of it, though.”

“Poor baby,” she said, gently touching the blond hair again. “I can’t imagine how awful it must’ve been. For both of you.”

Starsky sobered. “I was scared to death. I think I was more scared when I found him than when I was lookin’ for him.”

She transferred her hand to his knee and rested her chin on top of it. “You okay now? You look so tired.”

“I’m fine,” he said, laying his hand on her hair, which was also soft and touchable. Another thing he loved about her. She was natural. Not much makeup. No two hours m the bathroom getting ready to go somewhere. Undisturbed if the wind or a caress might mess up her hair. “Really,” he added when she looked unconvinced.

“You have to let me help, you know.”

“Help?”

She gestured at Hutch with her chin. “Taking care of him while he’s laid up. I can’t let you do it all by yourself. You’ve still got to work and everything. Let me help you. I insist.”

“You don’t have to -”

“Yes, I do,” she interrupted. “He’s important to you. I want to get to know him better. This is my chance.” She pretended to be stem. “I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

He grinned. “Okay, okay. Never let it be said that I would refuse a lady.” Hutch stirred a little and moaned in his sleep.

“I have to check dinner,” Terry said, turning to look at Hutch. “You wake him up so he can eat.”

“I don’t want to wake him,” Starsky protested.

“He gets another pain pill in a little while. He can go back to sleep then. But he has to eat, or he won’t get well fast enough.” She rose and put her hands on her hips. “You aren’t moving.”

He laughed and rose, too. “Your wish,” he said with a Ramon-like bow, “is my command.” She gave a saucy grin and went back to her cooking.

Starsky knelt next to Hutch, who was already waking up. “Hey, buddy. Soup’s on.” Hutch opened his eyes and blinked a few times, still a little fuzzy from the pill. “Huh?”

“Food. A meal. Your dinner is soon to be served.”

Hutch frowned. “What’d you make? Not that horrible hot chili-” His voice trailed away as the smells from the kitchen registered in his brain. “What is that? It actually smells good.”

“It is good, “Terry said from the table, which she was setting for two. A tray on the counter held Hutch’s dinner. “I ought to know. I cooked it.”

Hutch shifted so he could rise upon an elbow and look at her. “Hi, Terry. This lout made you come and cook? That was a rotten thing to do.”

“It was my idea,” Terry said with a smile, “and you’re welcome. Now get comfy and I’ll bring your dinner to you.”

“I can get up -”

“Don’t argue,” Starsky advised. “You’ll lose.”

Hutch settled down again, knowing that he’d better acquiesce. Terry set the tray down on the coffee table and beamed at Hutch’s smile. The salad, grilled chicken breast, steamed broccoli, wheat roll, and a glass of milk looked perfect to the ailing man. She had added cheese to the broccoli for Starsky and poured some of her homemade salsa over the chicken. Both of her men seemed pleased.

“Starsk, you’d better keep an eye on this young lady. lf you don’t, I just might move in on your territory,” Hutch teased.

“Watch it, pal. That’s my girl you’re flirtin’ with and I can definitely take you right now.”

“Yeah, well, not for long, dirtball.”

Terry sat at the table with Starsky and they all ate their meals accompanied by laughter and constant teasing or bickering between the partners. Terry and Starsky both kept an eye on the uncomfortable man on the couch. He ate about half of his dinner in the time it took them to finish their food. Just as they were done, Hutch gave up and closed his eyes.

Starsky looked at his watch and discovered it had been four hours since Hutch’s last dose of pain medication. “You okay, Hutch?”

Before he could answer, Terry said, “Time for a pain pill.”

Starsky took that as his cue and he went to retrieve the medication while Terry cleared away the remainder of Hutch’s dinner and started to put it in containers for the refrigerator.

Hutch opened his eyes and said, “I’m sorry, Terry. The dinner is really good. I guess I’m just a little off my feed.”

“Don’t worry about it. You were a good boy and you ate more than I thought you would.” As Terry put the last container in the fridge, she added, “I hope these containers don’t serve the same purpose here as they do at Dave’s place.”

“Hey!” Starsky protested. “I eat my leftovers. Sometimes.”

“Oh, come on, Dave,” Terry said, “the inside of your refrigerator is a cross between obvious bachelor food and a ninth grade science experiment.”

Hutch laughed as he tried to swallow his pain pill. “Thanks a lot, guys. That pill almost shot out my nose.”

Starsky held the glass of milk out for Hutch to take again and said, “Cool party trick, Blondie. Can you show me?”

Hutch smiled, shaking his head. Both men found the playful teasing relaxing and it was helping to restore their equilibrium, something they both desperately needed. The days of terror and pain had taken their toll on them. Terry watched as her boyfriend sat on the coffee table facing Hutch. He reached out and puta hand on Hutch’s shoulder. They were engaged in some conversation that she couldn’t quite hear. She quietly started to clean up the kitchen, content to let them spend time together. Starsky needed to see Hutch getting better and she could see how much Hutch needed Starsky to just be with him.

Hearing the clean up noise from the kitchen, Starsky said, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You cooked, I’ll clean up.” He patted Hutch on the shoulder and started moving into the kitchen.

“Dave, why don’t you just go sit with him?”

“That’s not fair, Terry. You did all the work,” he said as he stepped up behind her at the table, and put his arms around her waist. He gave her a squeeze and kissed heron the cheek, causing her to tum toward him a little with a smile.

“That’s okay, honey. I think you both need it and I don’t mind. Go on, now.”

Hutch watched them through partially closed eyes as they nuzzled each other and spoke quietly. Terry kissed Starsky and shooed him back into the living room with a promise of coffee if they were good.

Starsky went back to the living room, pushed the coffee table out of the way and crashed on the floor next to the couch. He leaned back within Hutch’s reach and closed his eyes.

“She’s really something, isn’t she?” he asked Hutch without opening his eyes.

“She sure is, partner. Looks like the Starsky charm is working its magic on her, too.” Hutch reached out and touched Starsky’s curls, absently playing with them where they curved over his collar. He couldn’t help thinking, I’m glad for you, buddy. You deserve to be happy. Having Starsky sit next to him was comforting and Hutch let his mind drift with those thoughts. His ordeal at the bottom of the canyon had given him lots of time to think about Starsky and how much he meant to him. As sleep started to claim him, Hutch surprised himself by another thought. Oh, God, Starsk, can Terry love you as much as I do?

As Starsky relaxed into the feeling of Hutch’s long fingers playing with his hair, he was wondering what Hutch was thinking about, but he didn’t want to interrupt the stillness of the moment to ask.

Both men drifted off to sleep to the lulling sounds of Terry puttering around the kitchen and humming, “Bridge Over Troubled Water.” She was a big Simon and Garfunkel fan. She stole a glance into the living room, smiling at the picture of the two men dozing together.

In the time since she’d gotten to know Starsky, she had quickly become aware of how close he was to his partner. That and his sense of duty and devotion to police work were driving forces in her boyfriend’s personality. She fell in love with the fun loving detective faster than she’d ever fallen in love in her life. Just the day before, she had told her coworker that she thought he might be “the one.”

Terry loved Starsky for his kindness and sense of humor. When they were together, she felt safe and treasured. When he introduced her to Hutch, she knew that was an important moment and she took an instant liking to the big blond. If Dave loved him, he must be wonderful.

Starsky’s job was dangerous – she knew that. His relationship with Hutch was the one thing that gave her a little peace about dating a cop. He had a partner who obviously loved him and would throw himself in front of a bullet for Starsky. She promised herself she wouldn’t make demands on him that he couldn’t meet. When their schedule called for him to be away suddenly, thwarting plans he’d made with Terry, she smiled and let him go without guilt, but with a prayer that he and Hutch would both stay safe. The only downside to the situation, apart from the worry, was that she was putting on a little weight due to her habit of nervously nibbling late at night when she didn’t hear from Dave.

Hutch had fallen asleep with his hand resting on Starsky’s shoulder. She smiled as she wondered if there was an unwritten rule in the book of their partnership that they must be within two feet of each other whenever possible. Terry sat down at Hutch’s table to read the newspaper while she waited for the coffee to finish brewing.

Before the coffee was done, Hutch had slipped into a fitful dream. Although he usually dreamed in color, this dream was more sepia-toned, like an old movie. He was dreaming about events that happened while he was lying under his car, but in the dream, Starsky was the one in danger. Starsky was lying in a ditch, pinned underneath an overturned Jeep and an American soldier was approaching him.

“Am I glad to see you. I was beginning to think I wasn’t gonna make it.” Starsky looked up at the soldier. “You wouldn’t happen to have any water by any chance?” he asked.

The soldier obligingly produced a canteen and let Starsky have some water from it. He was weak and he wasn’t able to hold onto the canteen for long, tipping it so that it started to spill its contents. He continued, “Maybe for openers you could take some of the pressure off this leg.” The Jeep was lying on top of his left leg.

“You with the 105th?” the soldier asked.

“What?” Starsky was confused. Where was he? What happened to his color vision? “I’m a police officer,” he replied.

“MP, huh? Where’s your uniform, MP?”

“I-I don’t wear a uniform, I’m a, I’m a detective uh .. with the police department. How the hell did I get here?” He looked around, confused. He was dressed in older style peasant type clothing, almost like what he’d expect a French farmer to wear. The ditch he was lying in suddenly looked like exploding mortar fire might have created it.

Starsky blinked hard and looked around again. He had no idea how he’d gotten from Bay City in Technicolor 1977, to what looked like black-and-white France in 1945. The man he was looking at stared back at him with obvious mistrust.

“Who am I talking to?” Starsky asked.

“Colonel Sonny McPherson. 53rd Infantry.”

“Where are we, Colonel?”

“What’s the matter, boy? Got knocked on the head? This here’s occupied France.”

That confirmed Starsky‘s suspicions. Somehow, he had traveled both back in time and to another continent.

The colonel continued. “I’m gonna ask you again… are you with the 105th Armor or ain‘t ya?”

Starsky knew he’d better play along. Unsure of the correct answer, he took a chance. “Yeah, yeah, that’s… that’s my outfit all right. I-I guess I-I must’ve gotten separated. M-Maybe you could help me get back to my unit and take some of the pressure off this leg!”

“You speak pretty good English for a Jerry. You see… there ain’t no 105th Armor. Hot damn, I got me a spy!” Starsky watched, terrified, as the colonel looked down at the ground to where Starsky‘s gun had spilled just out of his reach. The look on the older man’s face told him he was considering shooting him.

“You’ve got me wrong, Colonel.” Starsky tried to mollify him.

“No, no, I ain’t got nothin’ wrong. You‘re a German soldier in civilian clothes.” He sighted down the gun barrel. Turning it and studying it. “I could shoot you right now. Probably get myself another medal.”

“No, don’t, you don’t understand, Colonel.” Starsky tried to reason with him, but the man stood up straight and pointed the gun right at Starsky’s head.

“Don’t, don’t shoot, let me explain!”

The Colonel emptied the gun into Starsky, watching his body convulse as he died before the last shot was fired.

Hutch’s restless movements had woken Starsky. He heard him say, “Don’t, don’t shoot!” He turned to try and wake up his friend, when Hutch stiffened and screamed, “Starsky! Nooooo!”

Starsky shook his shoulders and Hutch’s eyes snapped open, bright and wild. His hair was damp with sweat that trickled down his face and he was breathing hard. Terry was in the kitchen putting together the coffee and she approached the two men to see what was happening.

“Easy, babe, easy, I’ve got you,” Starsky soothed, pulling Hutch up into his arms and holding him.

“Oh, God, Starsk,” Hutch said, clutching his friend so close Starsky could feel his heart racing. “It was you. Y-you were there.”

“Shhh, where, buddy? It was just a dream, shhh.”

“France. The colonel, he shot you! Oh, God. Are you really okay?” Hutch felt Starsky’s back, pushed him away a little and checked his chest for bullet wounds.

Starsky pulled him close again. He rocked him in his arms and soothed him by reassuring him they were both okay and it was just one of those crazy dreams you have on painkillers. Hutch gradually calmed down, and his breathing slowed. Terry watched in silence as Starsky helped him up and practically carried him to his bed. When he was lying down again, Starsky rushed into the bathroom and returned with a cool, damp washcloth for Hutch’s face. He sat on the bed and spoke soothingly to the distraught man until his breathing became even again and he drifted off to sleep.

Terry had left them alone, but she couldn’t help but watch from the other room. She saw the way Hutch looked at Starsky and how Starsky took care of him. Suddenly, she realized that something had changed between them.

That her boyfriend and his partner were a matched set was something she accepted. Any lady lucky enough to catch Dave Starsky would have to accept that Hutch would always be a major part of his life. The two men were utterly devoted to each other and practically inseparable. Somehow, that didn’t bother her. However, she knew she was going to have to fight not to be insecure about what she was thinking now. Terry couldn’t help wondering how Dave would feel about it if he knew the truth she thought she had just discovered. Hutch didn’t just love his partner. He was in love with his partner.

When Terry went home, she got on the phone to her friend Christine. The two women had gone to college together and had remained close.

”Hi, Chris. What are you doing?”

“Hi, yourself. How’s Dave’s partner doing?”

“Better, I think,” Terry said. “I wonder – ” She stopped and shook her head.

“What?”

Terry laughed. “I can’t think of a way to say this that doesn’t sound corny.”

“So, just say it,” Christine said.

“I want to fix you up with Hutch,” Terry said. “You’re not seeing anyone, and neither is he. What do you say?”

There was a pause. “What’s really up, Terry?” Christine asked.

”Nothing,” Terry said, glad they were on the telephone and not talking in person. If they had been, Chris would have seen her face and would have known there was more to this suggestion than wanting to put two friends together who might like each other. “I just thought you’d like him. He’s very handsome.”

“But can he cook?” Christine inquired.

Terry laughed. “Dave says he can. I haven’t tasted it, myself.”

There was a silence while Christine considered this. “Okay, why not? But I want him to call me himself. I hate blind dates.”

“Sure. I’m helping Dave take care of him, you know. I’ll tell him tomorrow.”

After a little more chitchat, Terry hung up and propped her chin on the head of the stuffed bear she’d had since childhood. She doubted very much that her plan would work. A pretty girl wouldn’t make Hutch stop being in love with Dave, however much he might like the girl- and Christine was perfect for him. Light-hearted, fun to be with, not demanding.

But even in the little time she’d known Hutch, she’d come to realize that he was a man who loved deeply. If she was right, and Hutch was in love with Dave, then nothing short of death would make him stop loving him. Maybe not even that.

~*~*~*~

“Okay, Blintz, time for good little boys to be in bed,” Starsky said cheerfully when the news was over. “Let’s go.”

“I don’t want to go to bed,” Hutch grumbled. “I’ve done nothing but lie around in bed for two weeks.”

“You need your sleep,” Starsky insisted. “Terry said so,” he added with a wicked grin.

Hutch grinned back. “Well, if Terry said so, that’s different,” he said lightly. He struggled to his feet, with Starsky’s assistance, and got the crutches under his arms. He went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and Starsky waited to help him to bed. “I can do this by myself, you know,” he said to his partner as Starsky knelt to help him take off his shoe and sock.

”I know,” Starsky said unconvincingly, continuing his task. “But it’d be tough for ya, and I can do it just as easily.”

Hutch gave in and let him, and let him help him off with his jeans and shirt, too.

“Where’s your clean jammies, Kenny?” Starsky asked with a grin, after folding the clothes and laying them on a chair.

“I don’t sleep in ‘jammies’,” Hutch said with great dignity. “I sleep in my shorts.”

“I know you got some someplace,” Starsky persisted. “You wanna be layin’ around in your boxers in the morning when Terry comes over to make breakfast?”

“Starsky, you didn’t-” He broke off at the evil light in his partner’s eyes. “Asshole. She’s not coming.”

“No,” Starsky admitted. “Not in the morning, anyway. But I had you goin’, didn’t I?”

Hutch laughed and scooted down to get more comfortable. “She must be a saint,” he commented, putting his arms behind his head.

“For puttin’ up with me, you mean?” Starsky sat on the edge of the bed and adjusted the covers over Hutch. “Yeah. She is. She’s one hell of a lady, partner.”

“You’re in love with her,” Hutch said. It wasn’t a question.

Starsky paused and his eyes went soft. “I guess I am,” he said after several moments. “I hadn’t really put a name to it. I was just so-” He shook his head. “Amazed, I s’pose, that she stuck around. That she keeps stickin’ around. She understands when we gotta work late or I gotta go in suddenly or stay at a stakeout all night or break a date.”

“You’re a lucky man, buddy,” Hutch said quietly.

Starsky looked at him closely. Something in his tone had caught his attention. “Hey, what’s the matter?”

“Not a thing,” Hutch said, smiling and reaching up to gently touch Starsky’s hair. “A little jealous, maybe, that you found somebody so special. That’s all. I’m glad for you, buddy. I really am.”

“You will, too,” Starsky said.

“Yeah,” Hutch said, smiling up at him. “I’m sure I will.”

But when Starsky had turned out the lights and left a pain pill and a glass of water next to the bed in case Hutch woke during the night and needed them, and gone home for the night, Hutch lay wide awake, staring into the darkness. He was jealous, he admitted to himself. Not jealous that Starsky had found someone special. Jealous – and this was what was so difficult to face, what he’d been avoiding even in thought for weeks-jealous that the someone special wasn’t himself. He’d known about Terry since Starsky first met her, since before they’d even had a real date.

Starsky had come upon Terry and the kids from her school in the park one day and he’d come to work that night raving about how beautiful she was, how wonderful she was with the kids, how intelligent and sweet she was. He’d dragged Hutch back with him the next day and introduced them and within the week, both men were helping out by playing basketball with the kids in the mornings before they went on shift at three.

Then he’d started dating her and she was all he could talk about. How she’d worked her own way through college because she had several brothers and sisters and didn’t want to burden her parents with the cost. How she’d wanted to be a special education teacher since she’d been in junior high and her church youth group had done some volunteer work with some developmentally disabled children. He’d even told Hutch about Ollie, her teddy bear, and said that she’d kept him and still slept with him because she wanted to remember the wonder of being a child, to help her understand the kids at school.

Hutch had watched his friend fall in love, step by step, day by day, and though he was sincerely happy for him, though it warmed his own heart to see the sparkle in Starsky’s eyes and the renewed vigor in his spirit, he had been sad, too. At first, he hadn’t known why. Then, he’d convinced himself he missed their bachelor nights out together. Starsky often asked Hutch to have dinner with him and Terry or go to the movies or play Monopoly- a game Terry loved. And sometimes Hutch had accepted. Other times, he’d declined, knowing they needed time alone. He told himself he simply needed to find a girlfriend of his own, that it was inevitable that eventually they’d each settle down and spend less time together.

But tying under that car for two days and nights had given him a lot of time to think. A lot of time to examine his life. He’d been convinced he would die there, and he’d worried over the things he’d left undone and unsaid. And, finally, he’d realized why he wasn’t as unreservedly happy for Starsky as he ought to be. His best friend had finally found the love of his life- Hutch knew it, even if Starsky didn’t yet-and he should’ve been pleased.

The reason he wasn’t was too terrifying to face.

But now he had to face it, and deal with it, and team to live with it. And he couldn’t tell Starsky. Ever.

~*~*~*~

As the weeks flew by, Hutch’s condition improved rapidly under his partner’s care. Terry’s many welcome meals and good company helped. Instead of waiting for him to call, Christine had worked up the nerve to call Hutch and they’d already developed a warm relationship. By the time the cast was off and Hutch had returned to light duty, the two couples had already developed an easy camaraderie, spending many evenings together on double dates, playing Monopoly, or just sitting around and enjoying each other’s company. Terry was pleased to see how quickly Hutch responded to Christine and she almost believed she’d imagined what she thought he was feeling toward his partner.

Hutch knew the truth. He was fond of Christine and he had enjoyed getting to know her and growing closer to Terry in the process. Hutch was worried and a little frightened by the new feelings he’d developed toward Starsky. Unwilling to risk his friendship with his partner, he also knew the situation was hopeless. Starsky would never feel that way toward him. His new relationship with Christine was a welcome distraction, even if he knew it was only that.

The day before Hutch returned to full duty status, the four of them were sitting at Starsky’s playing Monopoly again. Terry’s obvious love for the game had brought Starsky to accuse her of hiding her evil competitive nature in the guise of a simple teacher for special children.

“Yeah, you just can’t stand losing and you stink at this game, Dave,” she replied with a playful punch to his arm.

Christine joined the teasing. “How can someone who makes his living as a detective have such bad luck and make such bad choices game after game?”

Hutch laughed and lifted his beer to the ladies in salute.

“Laugh it up, dirtball,” Starsky said, “at least I know that the race car is the best piece to be.”

“Even if it spends half of its time in jail without passing Go or collecting $200?” his best friend asked.

Starsky stuck his tongue out at Hutch and leaned back against Terry, proclaiming, “Terry loves me, don’t you, baby?”

“Yes, sweetie, even if you are a pauper and only own a couple of utilities,” she replied with a gentle kiss to his cheek. She wasn’t looking up to see the pain that crossed Hutch’s face briefly when Starsky had made that remark. Hutch quickly schooled his features and laughed weakly at her joke.

“And here I thought he had a face only his mother could love,” Hutch said as he dipped his eyes to look into his beer glass.

The rest of the evening proceeded along those lines. Terry brought up the subject of the partners’ next vacation, hoping they could all plan to go somewhere together. They laughed and joked about places they could go to near and far, realistic and completely out of the question.

Every destination they could think of had been mentioned from a no-expense-spared cruise around the world to a trip to Gilroy, California, garlic-growing capital of the United States. They were all getting tired, so they agreed to pick up that discussion later. The girls had driven together and they left at around eleven, leaving the partners alone for a few minutes before Hutch headed home.

The next day would be a busy one. Dobey wanted the two men to get right on a new development on their beat. A string of liquor store holdups over the past week had the officers at Metro baffled. The amount of manpower it was taking to beef up the police presence in the form of uniformed officer patrols was draining Dobey’s already taxed resources. Having his best team back on full street duty was sure to help the situation.

The self-prescribed part of Hutch’s physical and mental therapy after the attempt on his life had included resuming playing basketball with Terry’s kids. The duty roster had them assigned again to a 3 p.m. start of shift and they were looking forward to getting busy catching the criminals responsible for the holdups, without cutting into their time with Terry and the children.

Starsky and Hutch couldn’t have known that someone was on their trail. George Prudholm, a criminal they had put away when he killed a couple of police officers trying to get to Starsky, had walked out of confinement on a clerical error. He and two other men had been studying the two detectives’ patterns and friends. Prudholm was still vindictive and determined to make Starsky pay for the death of his son. With Hutch on desk duty, the criminals had a week to start terrorizing the area with their robberies. When the dynamic duo came back to work on the streets, another week of holdups had them running.

A sunny day, two weeks into Prudholm’s reign of terror, found the men back in the park playing basketball. Unaware that they were being watched, they enjoyed their time with the kids, just as they did five days a week from ten to eleven in the morning.

Starsky enjoyed watching Hutch play. He stood back with Terry, smiling at the sight of his partner, healthy and completely recovered from his ordeal at the bottom of a ravine. He mentioned to Terry that this activity seemed to be the only time Hutch got to relax, and then he tried to explain why they were working so hard trying to catch the liquor store robbers.

“Word on the street is we can’t protect our beat anymore,” he told her.

Terry remarked that it seemed like he was talking about a jungle. She didn’t like hearing Starsky describe their work in the dangerous inner city. She never made demands and made a point to assure her boyfriend that he could do whatever he needed to on his job with no pressure from her. That didn’t stop her from worrying about his safety. As Starsky jogged back out onto the court to join the game, the men watching from the curb were making their plans to start the personal war on David Starsky. First, they would kill Terry and then they would tum their attention to Hutch.

On the way to the station that night, after they’d checked out some leads, Starsky said, “I have something important to talk you about,” as he pulled over to the curb and stopped.

Hutch tensed a little, unsure of what Starsky was about to say. He thought back over the past few weeks, his mind racing to think if he’d let his love show too much. Hutch’s feelings hadn’t changed and neither had his resolve to keep them a secret from his best friend.

“Sure, buddy, what is it?” he asked, doing his best to hide his fear.

Starsky reached over and patted him on the shoulder. “Hey, what’re you so nervous about? It’s a good thing, I swear. At least, I hope you’ll think it’s a good thing.”

Hutch sighed and said, “Sorry, I guess I’m just a little skittish with everything happening out on the street.” He wanted to explain his trepidation away as anything other than what it was. The fear that Starsky knew how his feelings had changed and he was going to walk out on him over it was almost overwhelming. He knew in his heart it was irrational. He’d been careful and Starsky seemed happy.

Starsky took a deep breath and looked Hutch in the eyes. “Hutch, I’ve made an important decision. I’m going to ask Terry to marry me.”

Hutch was momentarily stunned. He knew this was a possibility, but the finality of it struck him in the heart. He blinked a couple of times and struggled to find his voice. “M-marry you?” he stammered.

A frown chased the smile out of Starsky’s eyes. “Aren’t you happy for me, buddy?”

Hutch’s internal struggle had to be pushed aside. He wouldn’t hurt Starsky for anything. Hutch knew how in love Starsky and Terry were and that marriage would be the perfect thing for them. Children, a home with a picket fence, and a long life together were things Starsky deserved to have with the lady he loved. If nothing else, Hutch wanted Starsky to be happy. He smiled warmly, the love he felt for Starsky showing in his eyes. Please, God, help me do this. J want him to be happy.

“Of course I’m happy for you, Gordo. I love Terry. She’s a great lady and I know the two of you will be right for each other,” he said sincerely.

Starsky relaxed and let out a breath. He was delighted and Hutch’s sincerity had successfully hidden the pam in his heart. Hutch would be there for Starsky no matter what it meant to his own feelings. Watching Starsky live happily ever after would have to be enough.

“You don’t think she’ll say no, do you?” Starsky asked as he dropped his eyes to stare at the floorboards.

“Only if she’s crazy, and we both know she’s not. No chance, buddy. Congratulations. When are you going to pop the question?”

“Tomorrow night. I made a reservation at Le Rue Fontaine, that fancy French place she loves. I hate to do it on a dinner break, but I don’t want to wait till we have a day off. Who knows how long that might be with this case still unsolved?”

Hutch laughed at his choice. “You hate French food.”

“I know, I know, but this ain’t about me. It’s for her,” Starsky replied a little defensively.

“Easy, big fella. I’m just teasing. What about a ring?”

Starsky smiled and said, “You remember my ma’s cousin, Eli?”

Hutch furrowed his brow as he tried to place the name. He snapped his fingers and said, “Yeah, the short, round guy in the dark suit at Al and Rosie’s anniversary party last year?”

“That’s him. He’s a diamond broker. He said if we’d comedown to the jewelry mart tomorrow after we get done at the school, he’d help me out and I was hoping you’d help me pick something good.”

“I swear you’re as a bad as Huggy, man. You must have a relative in nearly every kind of business between the two of you. Of course I’ll help.”

“You gonna stand up with me?” Starsky asked shyly.

The lump in his throat nearly made it impossible for Hutch to answer him, but he did. “You gotta ask? It’d be an honor, Gordo.” That sealed it. Hutch pushed his feelings down deep. Whatever it takes to see that you’re happy.

Hutch’s emotion-filled voice and the love in his eyes were making Starsky feel dangerously close to a soapy scene. In the weeks since he brought Hutch home from the hospital, he’d gotten over any concerns he had about what Hutch was thinking. Things were going great, he was in love, and his best friend was alive and beside him. Life was good. He nodded his thanks and started the car, turning his attention to the road before his feelings got the better of him.

Unfortunately, that dinner was not meant to be. Later that same night, Starsky and Hutch were at Metro when they were told there was a 211 in progress at a liquor store near Terry’s apartment. When they reached the scene, they were horrified to find Terry on a stretcher, her head bleeding from a single gunshot wound.

Hutch stood briefly in the street, watching the ambulance pull away with Starsky and his intended. He knew it was not good. The bullet hadn’t killed Terry… yet. While he prayed that she would be all right, Hutch knew that wasn’t likely. He decided to throw himself into investigating the crime so he’d have something to tell Starsky when he met him at the hospital later. Not allowing himself to feel, Hutch switched into cop autopilot, interviewing witnesses, managing the scene as the officer of record when the lab team arrived, and gathering whatever evidence he could.

Starsky called him once to tell him the doctor still hadn’t given him any news. Hutch promised to meet him at the hospital as soon as he had everything squared away and the investigation in motion. He was worried about what it would do to Starsky if Terry died and he hoped he’d be able to pick up the pieces of the man in his grief. Starsky was a person of deep feelings. Once he gave his heart and his loyalty to someone, he felt their loss in his soul. As he turned the Torino toward Memorial Hospital, Hutch knew he was going to have his work cut out for him.

~*~*~*~

Hutch stared at the note Terry had left for him, through eyes dim with tears, and realized that she had known all along.

It was a moment before he could trust his voice. “Dearest Hutch,” he read aloud, “To you I entrust … ” his voice broke, he had to try again.”…Ollie and Dave. Please love them both and don’t let either one of them change.” He raised his eyes to Starsky, who was trying to smile, but the telltale bobbing of his Adam’s apple showed how deeply he was touched. “That’s beautiful,” Hutch said around the catch in his throat.

Starsky nodded; he couldn’t speak.

Hutch glanced back down at the note. How had she known? Was he that transparent? If he was, how was it that Starsky, who knew him almost better than he knew himself, hadn’t seen it? What was Terry trying to tell him? “It’s okay. I understand”? Or just that she knew she could leave Starsky’s well-being in Hutch’s hands because Hutch would die rather than let anything happen to him?

“Hutch, I … ” Starsky shook his head and took another long drink from his beer. “I don’t know how to go on without her.”

“I know,” Hutch said gently. “She was a special lady. Very special.”

Starsky got up from the floor and wandered over to the window. He leaned his forehead against the glass and was silent for several moments, but Hutch could hear by the hitching of his breath that he was crying. He stayed put. lf Starsky wanted his comfort, he would let him know.

“What’m I gonna do?” Starsky said at last, his voice still thick with his tears, but steady.

The pain in his best friend’s voice made Hutch’s eyes overflow all over again. “You’re going to pick yourself up and go on, buddy,” he said. “That’s what she wanted you to do. You can’t stop living just because she did.”

Starsky turned from the window, his eyes wide. “That’s exactly what she said.”

“She was wise, as well as special,” Hutch said. “l know it hurts, babe.”

“I know you do,” Starsky said, moving away from the window and into the living room, where he sat down heavily on the sofa. “How’d you do it? After Gillian?”

Hutch followed him and sat beside him. “It’s not the same thing, Starsk,” he said. “I loved her, but it was new, not a committed relationship, not talking about marriage. Not like you and Terry.”

Starsky nodded. “Yeah, but-how’d you do it?”

Hutch sighed and put his hand on Starsky’s shoulder and squeezed. “One foot in front of the other. One day at a time.”

Starsky looked down at his hands. “I just feel so … alone.”

Hutch blinked back the burning tears. “You’re not. You know that, don’t you? I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Starsky gave a trembling smile and looked up. “I know that, partner. And I appreciate it. But it’s not…not the same. Is it?”

Suddenly, Hutch felt a ray of hope. Those last two words, said in almost a whisper, coupled with the shared pain, the lateness of the hour, and a few too many beers, made his heart overflow. He took Starsky’s hand in both of his. “Starsk, buddy, I know it’s not. But it could be.”

Starsky met his eyes with a puzzled look.

Hutch wet his lips and took a deep breath. “Starsk, Terry knew. Somehow she knew. And I think … I think that’s what she was telling me in that note. That she knew and … and understood … and maybe, maybe even was giving me her … her blessing.”

“Hutch, what are you talking about?” Starsky was clearly not getting it, but he didn’t pull his band away.

“I love you,” Hutch said in one burst, afraid if he didn’t just say it, he’d never again find the courage.

“I know that,” Starsky said, smiling and giving Hutch’s hand a squeeze. “I’ve known that for a longtime.”

“No, I mean I love you. Like Terry did,” Hutch said desperately. “I realized it months ago but then you met Terry and …” He stopped and shook his head. “I could see what she meant to you and I know you’re not gay-hell, I’m not sure I am. I’ve never felt this way before and … I just… I had to … tell you.” ·

“Oh, Hutch.” Starsky used his free hand to gently touch Hutch’s cheek and then drew it back through his hair. “You mean you’ve been hiding this from me? Why?”

“Be-because I-1didn’t know… how you’d react,” Hutch said, hating the stammer he couldn’t shake. “And because of Terry.”

Starsky stroked his hair in silence for a moment, studying his face, and finally dropped his hand, covering Hutch’s in his lap. “Oh, buddy,” he said, so quietly, with a tremble in his voice, that Hutch’s heart took a painful leap in his chest.

Hutch waited, and after several long moments of silence, Starsky took a deep breath. He raised his eyes. And in those beloved eyes, Hutch saw his answer.

“I’m sorry,” Starsky said. “You know I love you, too, though I don’t say it in words. But, buddy, I love you like a brother. Like my best friend, my partner. I just can’t … oh, God, I don’t want to hurt you,” he finished helplessly as the tears that had formed in Hutch’s eyes before he spoke spilled over onto his cheeks.

“Be honest with me,” Hutch said. “We’ve always been honest.”

Starsky nodded. “Okay. Hutch, you’re the best friend I ever had. You’re part of me and you always will be. Even if…even if we couldn’t be partners, if one of us moved to Timbuktu, no matter what, you got a piece of me and I got a piece of you and that’s never gonna change, buddy. Ever. I love you. But I can’t … I can’t love you like that. I’m sorry,” he added, his voice breaking. “Even if it weren’t for Terry, babe. I just… it just ain’t there, Hutch.” Now Starsky’s eyes, too, were filled with tears. “Forgive me,” he finished.

So there it was. Starsky didn’t hate him for it. He didn’t love him back. But maybe he could learn to live with that. Someday.

Hutch let go of Starsky’s hands and folded his own in his lap. “Can we … can we still … “He gave a sad laugh. “Be friends?”

“Aw, Hutch.” Starsky reached out and recaptured the hands and pulled at Hutch so they were facing each other. “Yes. Of course. I can handle it if you can. I’m sorry, I wish I could’ve said what you wanted me to say, but, buddy, I just can’t. I don’t want to lie to you or give you false hope and I won’t pretend to feel somethin’ I don’t, babe, because that wouldn’t be fair to either of us. I love you too much to risk that.”

He was right. Hutch knew he was right. It would damage the relationship they did have- perhaps beyond repair-for Starsky to force himself to try to feel something he didn’t. They both had to be in it for the long haul or not at all. He forced a smile, and took a deep breath. “I know. I guess the big question is, will this make you uncomfortable? Will you be able- honestly, now- to handle me feeling this way until or unless I can get it under control, working together, seeing each other as much as we do?”

Starsky nodded without hesitation. “Yeah. I can’t imagine not seein’ you every day, not workin’ with ya. That’s just not an option, unless … ” He stopped.

“Unless what?”

“Unless you don’t want to be partners anymore.”

”No!” Hutch’s own vehemence surprised him, but he went on, “That’s the last thing I want, is for us to be apart. If l can’t … if you can’t …aw, shit.”

Starsky smiled a little at that. “Come on. Spit it out, Blintz.”

The nickname made him smile, too, and lent an air of normalcy to this anything-but-normal conversation. “Okay. Look, if I can still have you in my life, as we’ve always been, I’d rather have that -your friendship- than nothing at all.” He shook his head. “I should’ve kept my mouth shut. How insensitive can I get?”

“What are you talkin’ about now?” Starsky asked, but without impatience.

“Tonight, of all nights. When we opened the presents, while you’re still mourning for Terry-”

“Buddy, I’m gonna be mourning for Terry for a hell of a long time,” Starsky said, his voice trembling a little. “You’ve been carrying this around by yourself and never told me. It’s not insensitive. You thought you were helping me out, and you needed to say it. What are -” his voice broke, but he swallowed and went on, “what are best friends for?”

Hutch pulled him close and hugged him, as a friend, not a lover. They still had this. They still had their closeness, the trust, the love they’d always had. He’d learn to live without the rest. He’d been doing okay so far. He wouldn’t risk his most important relationship by demanding more than Starsky was willing to give. And if the years brought Starsky another love like Terry, Hutch would be glad for him. He deserved to be loved and to have someone to love. In time, Hutch told himself, he would either get over this feeling or move past it.