By Chance or by Choice

Table of Contents

After a random traffic delay, Starsky’s life splits into two parallel timelines. As a murder case and an injured Hutch plague both versions of reality, Starsky faces the truth of what he’s been avoiding behind one door, and what he’s already chosen in the other.

Author’s Notes: The idea for this fic came from the movie *Sliding Doors* (1998), which tells the story of two parallel realities. In the movie, the main character’s fate (played by Gwyneth Paltrow) is changed due to a random, pivotal moment. In one timeline, she catches a train, and in the other timeline, she misses it.

It’s not necessary to watch the movie to read this story. There are no similarities to the movie beyond that basic premise. Just giving credit where credit is due.

Chapter 1

~~~~~Door #1~~~~~~

It was just a regular Tuesday.

A weekly physio session, followed by a recurring ache down his arm, which supposedly meant it was getting better. It was an exercise in repetition, with a sprinkle of hope towards something more lasting.

At least he was back on the job, working cases alongside Hutch, even if Hutch had been steering Dobey toward the less physical ones lately. Starsky didn’t mind, as long as he was on the right path. Gunther was in jail. He was alive. Hutch was alive. Everything else in life was a bonus.

Starsky settled into the wheelchair. “Melissa,” he said, looking up at his physiotherapist as she pushed him into the corridor. “I thought your job was to heal me, not hurt me. Are you just doing this to make sure I keep coming back?”

Melissa Waters was young, pretty and very good at her job. Her petite frame, long brown hair and shining dark eyes caught Starsky’s attention the first time he came into the physio clinic.

She smiled down at him, tossing back her hair. “Who, me? We almost got all the kinks out of that arm.”

Everyone had expected it to be his legs. His walking, however, had improved faster than anyone promised, and in no time, he was running the treadmill without much complaint. It was his left arm that refused to cooperate. Without painkillers, Starsky could barely close his hand around anything heavier than a coffee cup, and he had taken to relying on his right hand for everything, dropping forks and brushing his teeth like a man learning the motion for the first time.

One evening, struggling through a bowl of soup that was dribbling off his chin, he looked across the table at Hutch, scowling.

“I feel like a five-year-old,” he said. “Or worse, a man eating soup with a fork.”

Hutch reached over and wiped Starsky’s chin with his napkin.

“I heard about a physiotherapist,” Hutch said. “The clinic is supposed to be the best in the city for this kind of injury. And the force’s insurance covers the whole thing, so it won’t cost you anything but your pride.”

“My pride’s already shot,” Starsky said. “Might as well throw the rest of it in, too.”

The first day Hutch wheeled him into the clinic, Melissa, her hair tied back in a ponytail, exposing her deep brown eyes, looked him over. “Well, Detective,” she said. “Let’s see if we can get you using that arm for something other than gripping the wheelchair like you’re shaking down a criminal.”

Starsky abandoned his frown and never looked back. Now, three months later, his Tuesday sessions were almost over.

“Only one more week, Detective,” Melissa said, smiling.

Starsky looked up at her. “You’ve cured me,” he said.

She looked down, her eyes dark and inviting. “I’m always available, you know, if you need something more.”

The words landed with a double meaning that Starsky couldn’t ignore. Hutch was back to dating, seeming to have moved past the horrors of the last year. Maybe it was time for him, too.

He scrubbed a hand down his face, letting his fingers slow at his new mustache. It felt strange. Hutch had shaved his mustache off around the same time Starsky started growing one, as if one of them had gone left the moment the other went right. Starsky had never decided whether that meant they couldn’t agree on a direction, or whether they’d always been this way, each one filling in what the other left out.

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened slowly. Starsky felt the wheelchair’s momentum as Melissa pushed him into the enclosed space. The other occupants glanced down at him with sympathetic expressions. They didn’t know his situation was temporary, that he could get up anytime he wanted. It struck him, not for the first time, what it meant to be robbed of a choice most people took for granted.

They reached the lobby, and Melissa wheeled him toward the exit. Outside, a cab was already idling at the curb.

“I told you I didn’t need this chair anymore,” Starsky said, craning his neck to look up at her. “But I can’t say I mind being driven around by a pretty girl like you.”

Melissa batted her eyes. “Detective Starsky, you are a charmer. I know you don’t need it, but it gives me an excuse to come down with you,” she said. “Besides, that partner of yours would never let me hear the end of it if you tripped over your shoelaces.”

“Let Hutch get his own wheelchair,” Starsky chuckled.

She smiled, slowed the chair to a stop and engaged the brakes.

“So,” Melissa said, pausing at the door. “I was hoping we could still see each other after your last session.” She blinked a few times, as though mustering courage to continue. “You know, after.”

Melissa’s mouth curled into an enticing smile. Starsky liked how she rarely missed an opportunity to be direct.

He thought about asking her out more than once. But some instinct nagged at him. He needed to focus on other things, like getting better. Besides, he wanted to know what Hutch thought of her first. Not permission, just Hutch’s read on her. He couldn’t think of a reason Hutch wouldn’t approve, but Starsky still wanted to know.

He wasn’t ready to explain any of that to Melissa.

He stood up and squeezed her hand briefly before letting go. “You never know. Maybe we will. See you next week, sweetheart.”

He noticed the tinge of pink in her cheeks at his evasive response.

“Earl’s here,” Melissa said, quickly, pointing outside.

Starsky patted her arm, then pushed through the clinic door and walked to the cab. The driver was already rolling down the window.

“Hey, Earl. Right on time,” Starsky said.

“Wouldn’t miss my standing order every Tuesday afternoon.” Earl flashed him a grin. “And a good tipper to boot. Why wouldn’t I be on time?”

Starsky climbed in up front.

Earl Jenkins was a man in his mid-seventies, an army veteran who’d worked more jobs than he could name. Starsky had asked the cab company to send only Earl, every Tuesday, after the first ride when Earl had spent the whole time recounting his card-dealing days in Vegas. The parade of celebrities, politicians and bankers who all believed, right up until they didn’t, that they could beat the house. Earl had found this endlessly amusing. Starsky had too.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Starsky joked. “The department is footing the bill. Tipping generously is a required part of this life of luxury I lead.”

Earl laughed and eased out of the parking lot.

“You and me both, brother,” Earl laughed. “How’s that arm doing? Is it getting better?”

“Much better,” Starsky said. “Only one more week, I’m told.”

Earl smiled. “That’s a shame. That means only one more week of seeing that pretty physiotherapist.”

“What do you know about my physiotherapist?” Starsky asked, perplexed.

“Nothing, other than the fact that I see her in my rearview mirror every week, standing at the door, watching you drive away, but pretending she’s not,” Earl said with a mischievous smile.

“So now you’re a matchmaker?” Starsky chuckled. “Not just my favorite driver? You beat Hutch’s driving any day of the week.”

Earl smiled. “You mind calling my boss and telling him that?” he said. “Seems like they’re hiring drivers younger and younger to replace us old folks. Doesn’t matter what they look like, either. There’s one young driver with dragon tattoos and long hair, and the company doesn’t seem to care at all if he’s scaring the public.”

“What’s the world coming to, Earl?” Starsky said as he settled back.

“If you don’t know, then I sure don’t either,” Earl answered. “Any plans this evening, Detective?”

“Hutch is cooking dinner for me tonight at my place. If I know Hutch, it will be hot and ready the minute I get through the door.”

“You’ve got a good friend there,” Earl said. “I have a good friend in my building. An older man like me drives a cab, too. Hank and I commiserate in the hallways about life.”

Starsky nodded and relaxed against the headrest.

Earl turned the wheel and slowly eased the cab onto the bustling street, his head turned to oncoming traffic.

Starsky happened to turn his head. At the last second, he saw movement.

“Watch out!” Starsky shouted

It was a moment too late.

Earl braked hard just as a large truck had swung in ahead of them. The cab stopped, avoiding a collision as the truck narrowly pulled in front, and blocked both lanes.

Earl stuck his head out the window. “Hey! Get that thing out of the road!”

The truck driver appeared to be operating in an entirely different dimension as he tried to turn around. The truck inched forward, stopped, reversed, inched forward again, a slow, maddening negotiation with the road. Fifteen minutes passed while cars stacked up behind them and horns blared in protest.

Finally, the truck pulled into a driveway, clearing the road.

Earl pulled forward. “Sorry about that, Detective. I guess you’ll be late for dinner.”

Starsky patted Earl on the shoulder. “No harm done. A few minutes won’t make a difference.”

“Not all passengers would think that,” Earl said, checking his mirror as he changed lanes. “Some can be really impatient.”

“You like driving a cab, Earl?” Starsky asked, easing back into casual conversation.

Earl glanced in the rearview. “It keeps me busy. Social Security alone won’t cut it. But not everyone’s good company. Some people just want to get home and be done with it. But you, Detective, you ask questions as though you care about the answers.”

Starsky looked out the window. “I like hearing about your army days. You and I have that in common.”

“Did I ever tell you about the time I almost fell into the latrine?”

Starsky had heard the story twice. “Tell me again,” he said, chuckling.

Earl needed no further encouragement.

******

The cab pulled up to Starsky’s building at five-thirty.

Starsky handed over the fare and a few extra dollars. “See you next week, Earl, for my last session. Stay out of trouble until then.”

Earl waved as he pulled away.

Starsky opened the door and smelled something delicious coming from the kitchen. Something hot and cheesy, heavy on the garlic. A dish was cooling on the stove.

Hutch was in the kitchen, setting plates on the counter.

“Sorry, I’m late. A truck blocked the whole street,” Starsky said. “Earl almost got in front of it, but the fates had different ideas.”

“No problem,” Hutch said. “Hope you don’t mind that I took a shower before you got here.”

“Course not,” Starsky said. Hutch’s hair was damp at the edges, and without his mustache, he looked younger than Starsky was used to. It still caught him off guard sometimes. “We’re partners. My home is your home.”

Hutch straightened up and looked Starsky over in one efficient pass.

“Sit down. Your arm is bothering you,” Hutch said.

“It always bothers me after Tuesdays.”

“But better every week, right?”

“Right,” Starsky agreed. “I’m up to two steps forward and only one step back.”

Starsky pulled out a chair and lowered himself into it. Hutch cut two portions of lasagna, carried the plates over, went back for a pitcher of water and sat across from him.

“Did Melissa say anything new today?” Hutch asked.

“Says I only need one more session.” Starsky took a bite and looked at his plate. “Also says I don’t need the wheelchair anymore. Also says the shoulder mobility is back to baseline.”

“Melissa says, huh?” Hutch held his fork for just a fraction of a second. “You two are getting pretty tight.”

“I was thinking of asking her out,” Starsky blurted out. He scanned Hutch’s face, looking for any hint of disapproval. “She’s beautiful, smart, funny. Did you know her family is from New York, too?” he said, not waiting for an answer. “What do you think of her, Hutch?”

Hutch picked up his fork again, avoiding Starsky’s eyes. Then he looked up, a wide grin on his face. “I think that’s great, buddy. She seems lovely. Anyone who can keep you in line is okay in my book.” He flashed Starsky a bright smile. “You’ve been cooped up long enough.” He took a bite and chewed. “If you like, I’ll call Jacqui. We could make it a double date.”

Jacqui Summers was Hutch’s latest girlfriend. Blonde hair and blue eyes, just like Hutch, and as dedicated to her job as a pediatric nurse as Hutch was to being a cop. They met at the hospital cafeteria of all places, both of them reaching for a fruit cup at the same moment. Hutch had graciously given it to her. She had given him her number.

“Decision made,” Starsky said, feeling a sense of relief. “I’ll give Melissa a call.”

Hutch refilled Starsky’s water glass without being asked. Starsky watched him do it, thinking about how Hutch cooked a meal for him on a Tuesday evening, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He shifted his thoughts to Melissa. Her warm, dark eyes and her skilled hands that had eased the tension from his body.

He picked up his fork. A double date sounded really good—he, Hutch, and, of course, Melissa and Jacqui.

Starsky took another bite and smiled.

What more could life have to offer?

~~~~~Door #2~~~~~

“Hey, Earl. Right on time,” Starsky said.

Starsky got into the front of the cab.

He could feel Melissa watching him leave as she stood inside the doorway of the clinic, an empty wheelchair in front of her. He knew she wanted him to ask her out, but for reasons he couldn’t explain, he was stalling. Besides, he needed to know what Hutch thought of the idea first.

Starsky got comfortable and made casual conversation with Earl for a while.

“Any plans this evening, Detective?” Earl asked.

Starsky smiled. “Hutch is cooking dinner for me tonight at my place. If I know Hutch, it will be hot and ready the minute I get through the door.”

“You’ve got a good friend there,” Earl said. “I have a good friend in my building. An older man like me drives a cab, too. Hank and I commiserate in the hallways about life.”

Starsky nodded and relaxed against the headrest.

Then, the world tilted. Just for a moment. A strange, sourceless dizziness, like a skip in a record, like time had stuttered and resumed without him. He pressed two fingers briefly to his temple.

Just as the feeling was beginning to pass, a large truck swung wide around the corner. Starsky instinctively leaned forward, bracing himself on the dashboard.

“Watch out!” he shouted..

Earl gunned the engine and pulled sharply in front of the truck’s nose just in time.

Starsky exhaled. He turned back to check and saw the truck blocking the street behind them.

“Good maneuvering, Earl,” Starsky said, his heart rate back to normal. “Otherwise we’d be stuck back there.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Earl said. “Wouldn’t want you being late for your friend.”

“Me either,” Starsky replied, leaning into his seat. He looked out the window at the moving city. “Hutch doesn’t appreciate his cooking getting cold.”

Earl drove for a while, merging into the pace of the traffic.

“Tell me one of your army stories, Earl,” Starsky said. “You know they’re my favorite.”

“Did I ever tell you about the time I almost fell into the latrine?”

Starsky smiled. “Tell me again,” he said.

******

Earl pulled up to the building at five-fifteen.

Starsky added a few extra dollars to the tip, thanked him, and made his way inside. The apartment was quiet, and a dish was cooling on the stove.

“Hutch?” he called.

There was no answer. He moved toward the bedroom and pushed the door open without a second thought.

Hutch was in front of the mirror, a towel around his waist, working another towel through his damp hair. Fresh from the shower, his skin still flushed, a curl of steam drifting from the open bathroom behind him. He looked up when Starsky appeared in the doorway.

“Hope you don’t mind. I decided to take a shower,” Hutch said. He didn’t move, just stood and looked at Starsky.

Starsky’s throat went dry. He froze in the doorway, taking in the sight of his partner. The line of his shoulders, the glow of his freshly showered skin. “Course not,” Starsky choked out. “We’re partners. My home is your home.”

Starsky turned and pulled the door half-closed behind him. He stood on the other side of the door, unable to move. He thought about the easy way Hutch looked at him in nothing but a towel, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

His thoughts didn’t clear. He decided he didn’t want them to.

Starsky reopened the door.

Hutch’s towel was on the floor. He stood facing the mirror, completely nude, watching Starsky’s reflection with an expression that Starsky had never seen before. It seemed unhurried and unashamed. It was as if Hutch had already made his decision about what he wanted next.

Now it was up to Starsky to make his.

“You forget something?” Hutch asked. His voice didn’t waver, nor did his eyes.

“No.” Starsky hesitated. “Maybe,” he said. “Yes.”

Starsky stepped forward.

Hutch turned from the mirror, his gaze steady.

Starsky advanced closer. Close enough to feel the warmth still coming off Hutch’s skin, the heat of the shower not quite gone. Their foreheads could have touched, if either of them had made the move.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Starsky asked.

“That dinner can wait?”

“Dinner can definitely wait,” Starsky said, smiling.

Hutch returned the smile, and that was all Starsky needed to restore his balance. He closed the last of the distance between him and Hutch.

The next few minutes were a blur.

Hutch hastily pulled Starsky’s belt off.

Starsky stepped out of his pants.

He pulled his shirt over his head; his underwear and socks followed like a discarded memory.

For a moment, they just stood there, both of them naked, having crossed some invisible line, and neither of them pretending otherwise.

Starsky ran his hands slowly up Hutch’s forearms, from wrist to elbow, then up to his shoulders. Hutch’s hair smelled of sandalwood. It was Starsky’s shampoo. That detail undid him more than anything else.

“Are you sure?” Starsky asked.

Hutch’s eyes said yes before he spoke. “It feels like the world just clicked into place,” he said. “Am I crazy?”

“No more than me. I felt it, too.”

Hutch leaned in, and their lips met.

Starsky was already filing the memory away, in case it turned out not to be real. The feel of Hutch’s lips. The warmth of his breath. It was a first kiss that could never be replicated.

Starsky led Hutch to the bed, clothes gone, along with inhibitions and doubts.

He felt intoxicated, yet clear-minded and certain. The brush of Hutch’s lips on his skin was like nothing he had ever known.

He grew hard, and to his delight, he saw Hutch do the same. They faced each other on the bed, on top of the covers, stroking each other, slowly at first, then faster and faster. It was as though they were making up for lost time.

“Are you okay?” Hutch asked, his blue eyes wild.

“More than okay,” Starsky said.

He didn’t take his eyes off Hutch, whose strokes accelerated, easy and natural, as though he knew he belonged there and nowhere else. Starsky’s heart raced, spurred on as much by Hutch as his own passion, like there was a finish line he needed to cross, or else he would be left behind.

“My God, Hutch. What you’re doing to me.”

Starsky closed his eyes, not able to hold back. He came, right then, and he moaned, and so did Hutch, who came too. Starsky had to see his face, so he opened his eyes. What he saw was a picture of love. He memorized it, like a snapshot, to be filed away forever so it would never disappear.

Together, they descended from their high and lay in each other’s arms for what could have been forever.

It was the sound of the ringing phone that jolted Starsky back to reality. He reached for it without sitting up. “Oh, hi Jacqui. Yes, Hutch is here.”

He handed Hutch the phone and eased himself out of bed, and moved to the bathroom, pulling the door most of the way closed. He could still hear fragments of Hutch’s voice, the one-sided part of a conversation he wasn’t meant to be part of.

He looked in the mirror, studying his mustache for a long moment. Then he reached for the shaving cream. He was rinsing the razor for the second pass when he heard Hutch’s voice again, clearer now:

“I’m sorry, Jacqui. My life is just going in an unexpected direction.” Hutch’s tone was low. “I think you know it’s for the best.”

Starsky dried his face and looked at himself in the mirror. Clean-shaven for the first time in months.

He went back into the bedroom and lay down beside Hutch, who set the phone on the nightstand and turned to look at him.

“I like it,” Hutch said, running a finger across Starsky’s smooth upper lip. “It looks more like you.”

Starsky smiled. “I feel more like me, too.” He fondled Hutch’s upper lip. “It’s about time we were on the same page.”

Starsky pulled him close, and Hutch settled against him. “Care to talk about the phone call?”

Hutch shook his head. “Not much to say. I enjoyed Jacqui’s company, but I think a breakup was inevitable.”

“You sure?” Starsky asked. He desperately needed to know in that moment whether Hutch had any doubts. “A life with a woman like Jacqui would be a fine life.”

“A life with anyone who’s not you would be just that. Fine,” Hutch said. “I don’t want to be just fine. I finally admitted that the minute you walked in tonight.”

Starsky pressed his body against Hutch’s.

“This isn’t a dream, is it, Hutch?”

Hutch’s hand ran down his body, then up to caress Starsky’s face. “Can you feel my touch?” Hutch took Starsky’s hand and placed it on his chest. “Or my heartbeat?” He asked.

“Yes,” Starsky whispered. “I do,” he said. “I want to spend the rest of my life feeling every inch of you.” He clung to Hutch’s hand. “Is it the right time to say I love you?”

“Oh, Starsk. It’s the perfect time. I’ll never get tired of hearing it. Now, tomorrow and every day after that.”

Starsky smiled and buried his face in the crook of Hutch’s neck.

“I just wish I had said it yesterday, too,” Starsky said.

“I wish I had said it too,” Hutch answered. “But at least we’re here now.”

“Now,” Starsky repeated. “Nothing could be better than right now.”

Chapter 2

~~~~~~~~Door #1~~~~~~~~~

Starsky held Melissa’s chair and pushed it in before taking his seat. The restaurant was busy, but that was to be expected for a Friday evening. He had heard the food was excellent, and judging by the elegant wine glasses and crisp, white linen on the tables, he had no doubt that would be true.

He was sitting beside Melissa and across from Jacqui, who was already leaning slightly toward Hutch.

“We love this place,” Jacqui said, clutching Hutch’s hand on the table. “This is where we had our first date. He ordered the salmon, and I had the duck.” She looked at Hutch, nudging him to respond. “I still think about that duck.”

Hutch smiled. “I’m considering the salmon again,” he announced. “It was almost as good as the company.” He glanced at Jacqui and smiled.

“If David is anything like Ken,” Jacqui said, turning to Melissa, “you’ll spend most of the evening wondering where he’s been all your life.”

Starsky enjoyed how the color crept up Hutch’s neck as he offered Jacqui a bashful smile. Then he found Starsky’s eyes before signaling to the waiter.

“Can we have two bottles of wine, please? One white, one red?” Hutch asked.

The waiter nodded and quickly went to retrieve them.

“Can’t decide on a color?” Starsky asked, amused.

“Oh, I can decide. I just thought we would like to have a choice,” Hutch answered.

“I like to have choices,” Melissa said, glancing at Starsky, then back to Hutch. “I was beginning to wonder if he was ever going to make a decision and ask me out,” she said. “I had started to consider sending a written request through his doctor.”

It was Starsky’s turn to feel his cheeks blush. He opened his mouth, found nothing immediately useful, and looked across at Hutch for support.

Hutch appeared to be absorbed in the menu.

“Thanks, buddy,” Starsky said, narrowing his eyes at Hutch.

“What? I’m deciding between the salmon and the whitefish,” Hutch said, without looking up. “It’s a serious matter.”

“I promise,” Starsky said to Melissa, “he’s much more attentive when there isn’t a menu involved.”

Hutch peered over the top of the menu. “I’m attentive,” he said. “I’m also thorough. These are the same qualities that make me an excellent detective and, apparently,” he glanced at Jacqui, “an excellent date.”

“He also,” Starsky said to Jacqui in a tone of confidential disclosure, “has never once in his life ordered anything other than what he was already planning to order before he opened the menu.”

Hutch closed his menu. “The salmon,” he said, to no one in particular.

Jacqui laughed, and Melissa joined in. Starsky caught Hutch’s eye across the table and felt a brief, comfortable flash of warmth. Hutch looked back at him, and Starsky looked at Melissa, who was still smiling.

“See?” Starsky said, tilting his head towards Hutch. “Told you. Entirely predictable.”

“Who me?” Hutch said without anger. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know, Starsk.”

“You’ll have to prove that one to me some other time.” Starsky chuckled.

Starsky closed the menu. “Steak for me. Baked potato with sour cream. And I’m thinking about pecan pie for dessert.”

Hutch held out his hand to Jacqui. “Pay up, darling.”

Jacqui laughed. “Ken said that would be your order, David,” she laughed. “Right down to the dessert, too.”

Melissa joined in the laughter. “If I order the steak, you’ll accuse me of not being original,” she said. “But I’m from New York, and we love our steaks, don’t we, David?”

“We sure do,” Starsky said amicably.

He watched Melissa’s smile widen, her eyes shining, her hair soft against her shoulder. He was glad he finally asked her out. Hutch had been right about him needing this; the evening had the easy feeling of something that might become a habit.

He thought about all of these things.

And then Hutch said something to Jacqui in a low voice, and she laughed and covered her mouth with her hand, and Starsky glanced over without meaning to, and there was that warmth again, but something more. It was an inexplicable hint of envy for Hutch’s attention.

Starsky blinked away his thoughts as the waiter came over with the wine and filled everyone’s glass. He picked up his glass and swirled the red liquid, then looked up, a smile on his face. Melissa smiled back at him, and Starsky took a sip of wine, letting the evening take its course.

At the end of the meal, they walked out to the car, and Starsky held the door for Melissa and rounded to the driver’s side. He was stuffed, having enjoyed steak, a fully loaded baked potato, a whole piece of pie, and half of Melissa’s, too.

“You know,” Melissa said as he pulled into traffic, “I always wondered why you took a taxi to your appointments when you have this snazzy red car.”

“For the first little while, I wasn’t cleared to drive,” Starsky said. “Hutch used to bring me.” He glanced over. “You knew that part. After his time off was all used up, I started taking a cab, and Earl turned out to be great. So I kept it going.”

“Is Earl that good of a driver?”

“He’s that good a person. He deserves better than what he got in life,” he said. “And I got the feeling he needed the steady fare.”

Melissa was quiet for a moment. “You’re a good man, David Starsky. Most people wouldn’t give their cab drivers the time of day.”

“That’s their loss. A man like Earl was in the army and has lived the life of twenty men, with stories to tell about all of them. You want to know one of Earl’s best lines?”

“What?” Melissa asked, curious.

He smiled, recalling something Earl would say every time he turned right at an intersection. “He always says, and I quote, ‘never go left when you can go right.’

Melissa smiled. “Spoken like a man who knows his way around,” she said. “What do you think he means by it?”

Starsky glanced at Melissa, then back to the road. “I think he means a person should find whatever path feels right, and follow it,” he said. “Either that, or take the easy way and drive in circles,” he added with a smirk. “I’m not entirely sure which.”

“Are you going to miss Earl? After your physio sessions are done?” Melissa asked.

Starsky hadn’t thought about it, but he realized he would. “I’ll still call Earl for a ride from time to time, I’m sure,” he said. “I’ll make a point of it.”

“Well, I’m glad you and I will see each other, even when your sessions are finished,” Melissa said sweetly.

Starsky pulled up in front of Melissa’s building and put the car in park.

She didn’t move immediately. She looked at him in the dim light of the car, her dark eyes warm, and reached across and covered his hand with hers.

“Do you want to come up?” she asked.

Starsky said yes. She was lovely, and the evening had been good, and her hand was warm over his. Not that he normally needed much convincing, when a pretty lady was willing, but Starsky wanted more than one night. He wanted what Hutch seemed to have with Jacqui. He was ready. Hutch had been right that he’d been cooped up long enough.

They made love that night. She was soft and sweet, and Starsky felt a sense of comfort, a true satisfaction in his choice.

He slept easily, her warmth beside him, her breath slow and even in the dark.

He did not dream of anything.

Or if he did, by morning, it was already gone.

~~~~~~~~Door #2~~~~~~~~~

Starsky rolled onto his back, his body still quivering from the high of their lovemaking. Hutch radiated next to him as his breathing slowly returned to normal.

It had been a couple of weeks since he saw Hutch, dripping from the shower, naked and golden. Starsky cherished every round of lovemaking since then. After work, before work, at Hutch’s apartment to pick up clothes, back to Starsky’s apartment to spend the night, every morning, every evening, and every other combination of alone time they could fit in.

It was like he was trying to fit a whole lifetime into every day, and he didn’t want to miss a minute.

Starsky’s fingers stroked Hutch’s body lovingly, almost reverently, his hands laying claim to their new possession.

“Can I ask you something, Hutch?” he asked, his voice still breathy.

“Always,” Hutch said. “Unless it’s about your heartburn. Then, I’ll remind you to revisit your eating habits.”

Starsky’s lips pressed together, smiling in the comfort of their banter. “I was going to ask if you’re planning to spend every night at my apartment. If so, you’ll have to bring your own goat milk.”

Hutch turned to face him, his eyebrows high. “Every night, huh?”

“We can spend some nights at your place, too, but you get the point.”

“I do,” Hutch said, rolling back to his back, his hand finding Starsky’s.

“My turn to ask you a question,” Hutch’s eyes slid to Starsky. “I always thought you were going to ask that physiotherapist of yours out,” Hutch said. “Melissa. She was clearly waiting for it. Why didn’t you?”

Starsky let go of Hutch’s hand and reached out to skim his fingers across Hutch’s brow. “I won’t lie. I thought about it,” he admitted.

“But?” Hutch asked, not meeting Starsky’s eyes.

Starsky cupped Hutch’s chin and turned his head towards him.

“I was stalling,” Starsky said simply. “I didn’t know that’s what it was at the time, but I was.” He waited for a beat. “I had months to ask her out, and I didn’t. That wasn’t an accident.”

Hutch looked at him for a long moment. Something moved behind his eyes, like a thing locking into place. “For what it’s worth,” Hutch said, “I was waiting.”

“For how long?” Starsky asked. “How much time do I need to make up for?”

“It’s impossible to go back, Starsk. Even if we could, I don’t think I can pinpoint a moment. It’s like one of those things you think about, and then immediately dismiss because you believe what you have is enough.”

He inhaled, pensive, with more to say. “But when you walked in the bedroom that day, everything became real, and in that moment, I made a decision.” He took back Starsky’s hand. “I realized I loved you, right then and there.”

“Me too,” Starsky said. “There is no one else for me.”

“It’s that simple, isn’t it,” Hutch said. It wasn’t a question.

“Simple, yes, but it won’t always be easy,” Starsky added, reality intruding. “With our jobs, our families, everything. We could be facing a harder road than you think.”

“I’m not going into this blind, but the way I see it, things were more difficult before.”

Starsky looked at him.

“How so?”

“I always felt like something was off. Like, there was a missing piece of a puzzle.” Hutch captured his gaze. “Now, I feel like I inserted the last piece. I would rather spend the rest of my life holding onto that than face a life of never having found it.”

Starsky smiled at that.

“So we figure it out as we go?” he asked.

“Right. No master plan,” Hutch answered.

“Good. Sometimes thinking too far ahead can make a man dizzy.”

Hutch laughed. “This is a side of you I’ve never seen,” he said, kissing the top of Starsky’s head.

“What?” Starsky asked. “Compromising?”

“No,” Hutch replied. “Patient.”

He pulled Starsky to him, and Starsky let him, and they settled into each other’s arms, enjoying the silence of their own private world.

Chapter 3

~~~~~~~~~Door#1~~~~~~~~~

Melissa nestled against him, an arm draped lightly across his body.

They spent most nights at her apartment. Starsky preferred that. It was as though his apartment was to be kept separate, reserved for something else he couldn’t name.

She made him happy. He told himself that with the same deliberateness he had once applied to becoming a cop. It was an indisputable path, one that matched his needs, his desires. Of course, it was Hutch who had helped him with a lot of that. In the same way, he believed Melissa could help fill in the gaps for everything else.

He looked at her in the shadows. He found her attractive, without question. He liked to remind himself of that. He didn’t know why.

Dinner tonight at the Italian place Melissa loved had been good, the tiramisu arriving just as the conversation found its easy rhythm. Hutch was there with Jacqui. Hutch and Jacqui were spending more and more time together. Starsky had heard contentment in Hutch’s voice whenever he talked to her, and that made Starsky happy for him. The evening was easy and fun and as complete as anything Starsky could dare to imagine.

He pulled her closer to him, and she sighed softly.

A thought about Hutch popped into Starsky’s mind. Earlier that day, Hutch had remarked about being short a dime for the payphone. Then he looked at Starsky and began to sing an old song, “Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?” It was casual and meant nothing, but it made Starsky smile thinking about it. Then he felt the smile fade, as if it belonged in another room.

He wouldn’t mention it to Melissa. There was nothing to mention. Partners talked. Friends made each other smile. That was normal.

Melissa pressed closer without waking. Starsky put his arm around her and held her, careful not to carry his thoughts any further. He focused instead on the woman beside him, the real presence of her.

Melissa must have sensed his stare as she opened her eyes.

“Hey,” she said sleepily. “I enjoyed tonight. We should go back to that restaurant sometime soon, after we get back from your father’s memorial. I’m looking forward to going to New York with you, and having you meet my parents, too.”

Starsky kissed the top of her head. He couldn’t believe it had been thirty years since his father had passed away.

“I’m glad,” he said. “It will make it easier on my mother to have people there, and she’s looking forward to you coming. I’m looking forward to meeting your family, too.”

“That makes two of us,” she said. “Is Hutch coming too?”

“Of course,” Starsky answered.

It wasn’t even a question that Hutch would come to New York to pay his respects. Even though he never met Starsky’s father, he would come because he was more like family to Starsky than his own brother.

“Of course,” Melissa repeated, without emotion.

Starsky lifted his head from the pillow to look at her. “Are you okay with that?” Starsky asked.

Melissa looked Starsky in the eye. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“No reason, darling,” Starsky said. “I’m glad you’re both coming.”

“We’ll have to leave Hutch to fend for himself, though, when we go to my parents’ place.”

Starsky felt a tinge of regret at that thought. “My mother will be glad to have him to herself,” he managed to say.

He lay back down and soon heard Melisa’s deep breathing, and he listened for a while until sleep pulled him under.

That night, he dreamt about Hutch.

Hutch was singing, his voice distant. “Brother, can you spare a dime?”

The chorus repeated, and Hutch’s voice grew fainter and fainter.

The sound of a payphone echoed, and Starsky kept trying to reach for it. It sounded like Hutch on the line, but his voice was fading, and Starsky pressed the phone to his ear until he could no longer hear him.

~~~~~~~~Door#2~~~~~~~~~

Starsky smiled. Hutch had given him a special massage the night before, and it wasn’t because he had any remaining pain. He felt like a new man in more ways than one.

That made him think of his last appointment with Melissa. The way he didn’t flirt, or call her darling or sweetheart or even mention she was pretty. Not that he had been lying all this time, but since falling so willingly into Hutch’s arms, he had no desire to lead her on.

When it was clear that Starsky wasn’t going to ask her out, Melissa had simply squeezed his hand and wished him well.

He remembered walking out to meet Earl in the cab, feeling like something had ended even though nothing had officially begun. It’s not like they had ever dated. He didn’t owe her any more than a cordial goodbye.

“She’s not watching you drive away today,” Earl noted as he pulled out. “Did something go wrong in your last session?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Earl,” Starsky assured him. “In fact, I’ve never felt better.”

“Good to hear,” Earl said. “How was your dinner last week with Hutch? Was it hot and ready, right on time, like you said?”

Starsky thought about the lasagna that had to be reheated when they finally emerged from the bedroom that night, both of them ravenous after hours of lovemaking.

“Dinner was definitely…hot,” Starsky answered, smiling to himself.

“You’ve got a good friend there,” Earl said, not for the first time.

“Like no one else,” Starsky agreed, settling back into his seat.

He listened to one of Earl’s army stories for the rest of the ride home.

A few weeks later, Starsky was in the supermarket, reaching for pasta sauce on the third shelf when he heard his name.

He turned, and there was Melissa. A basket over her arm, her dark eyes narrowed, as though pre-empting an awkward encounter.

“David.” She smiled. “You look well. How’s the arm?”

“Melissa.” He smiled stiffly, although he couldn’t understand why. “Nice to see you. The arm is good. You look great.”

“Thanks,” she said. “So do you.”

“How are things at the clinic?” he asked, filling the silence.

“Busy,” she said. “I’ve been working with a group of firefighters. They keep me on my toes.”

Starsky smiled, turning the jar of pasta in his hands. He noticed her eyes looked darker than usual, like they were masking something.

Then she looked up and down the aisle, like she was making sure they were alone. It was quiet, just the two of them. “You shaved your mustache,” she said. “It looks good.”

Then, she leaned in. Quickly and without warning.

Her lips found Starsky’s before he was able to fully register what was going on, and for one disorienting second, he simply let it happen.

The kiss lasted only a few seconds. Long enough, though, for Starsky to notice, with a strange clarity, everything it wasn’t. Her mouth was soft and warm and pleasant, but even as it was happening, he knew it didn’t mean anything. It was a kiss that could have belonged to anyone.

She was the first to pull back.

“I’m sorry,” Melissa said, though she didn’t look it. “I always wondered what that would be like to do that. Now I know.”

Starsky stood there, the jar of sauce in his hand, trying to catch up with the last ten seconds of his life.

“Now you know,” he said finally, “that there’s nothing there.”

“I was going to say maybe there could be.” Her head tilted, her eyes searching his for a signal. “It’s not too late to ask me out, you know.”

Starsky looked at her. He thought about Hutch; how his kisses were deep, passionate, and real. No part of his life had room for her.

“I’m sorry, Melissa,” he said. “That’s not going to happen. You’re a hell of a woman. There are a hundred guys who would be lucky to take you out.”

“Maybe,” she said. “But when I saw you today, I had to take a chance, just once.”

He didn’t owe her a kinder rejection than honesty, so he just shook his head and said nothing else.

“Goodbye then,” she said, adjusting the basket over her arm. “If you ever change your mind, David, you know where to find me.” She offered a small smile. “You take care of yourself. And tell Hutch I said hello.”

Starsky nodded and watched her walk down the aisle.

He felt a strange sensation, like he was supposed to feel something else, like sadness or regret. He shrugged it off. He didn’t feel any of that.

He walked away, picking up some bananas and cherries, then went searching for the frozen yogurt he knew Hutch would like.

*****

Hutch was already at Starsky’s apartment when he got back, jacket over the chair, shoes off, some kind of country music playing low from the record player. He looked up when Starsky came in and smiled like he hadn’t seen Starsky in months.

“You were gone for a while,” Hutch said.

“The supermarket was busy.” Starsky set the bags on the counter and started unpacking. “I bought that organic pasta sauce you like. You want spaghetti tonight or hamburgers?”

“You decide.” Hutch came to the kitchen and watched as Starsky moved around the small space. “You alright?”

“Fine. Why?”

“No reason. You just look like the cat who ate the canary.”

“I do?” Starsky asked. “Maybe it’s because I bought chocolate chip ice cream instead of the frozen yogurt you like?”

Hutch chuckled and started helping Starsky unpack the groceries.

“Let me cook tonight,” Hutch offered. “You did the shopping.”

“I’m fine,” Starsky insisted, knowing Hutch would always be worried about him. “Melissa cured me.” He cursed himself for mentioning her.

Hutch froze, a box of pasta in his hand, halfway to the shelf.

“Melissa, huh,” Hutch said, seemingly unbothered. “I was hoping it was one of my nightly massages that did it.”

“It’s just that Melissa used to get the kinks out,” Starsky added quickly. “I didn’t mean to imply anything different,” he moved to neutral territory. “She had a certain professional technique.”

Hutch’s smile faded. He turned and leaned against the counter. “Ok, Starsk. What gives? And don’t say ‘nothing.’ I know you too well.”

”I really don’t know what you mean,” Starsky said.

“I mean, you haven’t been to see Melissa in weeks. Then you mentioned her twice in thirty seconds.”

Starsky sighed, too quickly, and stepped into Hutch’s arms to cover it. He could hear the words of warning swirling in his mind, telling him that he should mention the kiss.

“I ran into Melissa,” Starsky said, “at the supermarket. For a few minutes in the pasta aisle, she asked how my arm was. That’s it.”

It wasn’t a lie, not telling him everything. This kiss didn’t matter anyway.

Hutch nodded slowly. “So why didn’t you just say so?”

“I told you, it was nothing.”

“Did it feel like nothing?” Hutch said. Not accusatory, but definitely curious.

“Yes,” Starsky said.

That was the only truth that mattered. He stopped putting away groceries and looked at Hutch. And then, because Hutch deserved the full answer: “To me, at least. I don’t know, Hutch. We didn’t go out, but it was still strange. The way it ended without ever beginning.” He looked him in the eyes. “So yes. Nothing.”

Hutch held his gaze for a moment.

“You talked about her a lot. Before,” Hutch emphasized. “I guess I wanted to make sure you didn’t think there was unfinished business there.”

Starsky reached out and tried to smooth the wrinkle between Hutch’s brows. “The moment I saw you standing there, fresh out of the shower, it was like…” he looked up, searching for the right words, “it was like a whole new life started at that moment. You know?”

Hutch’s forehead relaxed, and the smile reached his eyes. “Ok. I’m sorry. I’m sounding like a jealous teenager.” Hutch nodded, wearing the expression of someone who felt foolish.

“It’s good we’re talking about this,” Starsky said. “Have you ever thought about Jacqui?” Starsky asked. “After?”

“No,” Hutch said. He returned to unpacking the groceries without looking up. “She called me a few times. She tried to convince me to come back.”

Hutch hadn’t hidden the calls. Starsky had watched him take them in the kitchen, his voice patient at first, then quieter, then firm, hoping this time it would land.

“I know,” Starsky said. “And every time, you let her down easy. I love you for being so careful about her feelings, but what I meant was, have you ever regretted it?”

“I broke it off with Jacqui and haven’t looked back, Starsk. You know that, right?”

“I do,” Starsky said. “I just needed to hear you say it.”

“I liked her, I did,” Hutch said. “But there were signs. She didn’t always understand our partnership.”

“Like how?”

“Like, that time I had to break a date with her so I could take you to your physio appointment. That was before you had Earl coming every week. She didn’t say anything, but I sensed that she didn’t understand my priorities.”

Starsky remembered that time, and many other times Hutch put him first, above all other friends and dates and even his own family.

Hutch finished putting the ice cream in the freezer, and Starsky stopped him as he turned around. He ran his hands through Hutch’s hair, smoothing it out at the sides.

“I’m not sorry, not even a little, that Jacqui wasn’t the one,” Starsky said. “Or anyone else for that matter.”

He leaned in for a kiss, but Hutch pulled back.

“Do you ever wish you had dated Melissa?” Hutch asked. “Even if just to know how it would go?”

“Honestly, no,” Starsky assured him. “We’re here. That’s not complicated for me. It’s only you, Hutch. No one else.”

Hutch’s face lit up. “Then I’m not sorry Melissa wasn’t the one for you, either,” he said. “It’s only you for me, too.”

*****

That night, Starsky dreamed about Melissa.

She was standing at the end of a long corridor, saying something he couldn’t hear. He kept walking toward her, and the corridor kept extending, and when he finally got close enough, he realized she wasn’t talking to him at all. She was looking past him in the distance. Starsky turned, and there was no one there. He looked back, and she was standing there with an empty wheelchair. Her eyes were dark, and her hair cascaded over her shoulders. She invited him to sit down. When he turned around to sit, he looked up, and she had disappeared.

His eyes shot open, and the room was dark.

He felt dizzy, and his head began to ache, but not from a regular headache. It was the same strange, disorienting feeling that overtook him in Earl’s cab that Tuesday, the way you feel a dream dissolving before you reach it.

He lay still for a while, listening to Hutch breathe, letting the sensation pass like a bad dream.

He stared at the ceiling.

The dream was nothing. It was already starting to blur. He couldn’t quite remember what it was even about, but something beneath the surface lingered, like a question that hadn’t been asked but needed answering anyway.

Chapter 4

~~~~~~Door#1~~~~~~

Melissa came out of the bathroom and pulled her hair back, already in work mode. Starsky had her coffee ready on the counter.

“Thank you,” she said, taking a quick sip without sitting down. “I’m late. We have a group of firefighters coming in first thing.”

“If anyone needs it more than cops, it’s firemen,” Starsky said.

“Not just men,” Melissa corrected. “Women firefighters, too.”

“That’s a relief,” Starsky said. “I was starting to worry about the competition.”

She looked up at him over the rim of her cup. “If anyone should be worried about competition, it’s me.”

Starsky kept his expression easy. “What are you talking about? There is no other woman in my life.”

Melissa peered at him. “How can I be so sure of that, when you’ve been having dreams?”

It wasn’t an outright accusation, just a fact, and Starsky knew it.

“Everyone dreams,” Starsky assured her. He tried to sound playful, although he knew that tone didn’t work on her.

Melissa set the cup on the counter and avoided Starsky’s eyes. “Not everyone talks in their sleep,” she said.

Starsky coughed just as he took a sip of coffee.

“I was talking in my sleep?” he asked, swallowing. “What did I say?”

She looked up and didn’t look away. “You were begging someone not to leave. You kept saying ‘don’t go, don’t go,‘ over and over again.”

A fragment of a dream surfaced. Hutch’s face, a payphone, his voice getting fainter no matter how close Starsky got.

“And then you said something like I need to hear your voice,” Melissa added. “Who were you dreaming about?”

Starsky ran his hand through his hair. The dream was distant, but he knew very well who was in it.

“I think it was Olivia Newton-John,” Starsky said, teasing her. “I’ve always found her voice very soothing.”

Melissa narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “Name one of her songs.”

“Something about being hopelessly devoted,” Starsky half-sang. “To you.”

He leaned in for a kiss. She tasted sweet, like sugar in her morning coffee mixed with cherry Chapstick. She laughed as she pulled back, the conversation seemingly forgotten. “You are a charmer, David Starsky.”

Melissa picked up her bag. “My parents called last night. They’re excited about meeting you. What time do you think your father’s memorial will be over?”

Starsky internally flinched. Mourning his father’s death was something that would never be over.

“Should be finished by late afternoon,” Starsky said flatly. “You don’t have to come to the memorial itself. It’ll be just family and the synagogue, and it can run long. We could meet at your parents’ place for dinner.”

“You said Hutch will be there for the memorial, won’t he?” Melissa said. Her voice was neutral. Her face, for just a fraction of a second, was not.

“Yes,” Starsky said. “It’s important to him.”

“It’s important to me, too,” Melissa said quickly. The smile was back, warm and practiced. “I wouldn’t dream of missing it.” She kissed his cheek, her lips brief against his skin. “Bowling tonight?”

“Seven o’clock,” Starsky said. “Hutch and Jacqui are meeting us.”

“Of course they are.” She picked up her keys. “See you tonight.”

He listened to the door close. Then silence.

He stood at the counter with his coffee going cold and let the dream come back to him properly. The payphone, the distance, Hutch’s voice thinning to nothing, no matter how fast Starsky moved toward it. He’d been reaching for the receiver, but not getting there.

I need to hear your voice.

He said that in his sleep, apparently.

He picked up his coffee and looked out the window at the street below, where the morning was already well underway, and people seemed to know where they were headed.

Starsky was not entirely sure he did.

He dismissed the thought and grabbed his jacket.

He was late. He had a partner to meet at the precinct, then he had to get ready to go to New York. That was enough for one day.

~~~~~~Door#2~~~~~~

Starsky looked at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time. Six-thirty. He had been awake an hour already, lying still so he wouldn’t wake Hutch, who slept beside him, undisturbed, like a man with nothing on his conscience.

Starsky envied that stillness more than he wanted to admit.

The dreams about Melissa kept waking him. They were vague, unwanted, and persistent, and had nothing to do with how little he thought about her awake. By morning, they always blurred into almost nothing, leaving behind just the sense that something stubborn had been trying to reach him and hadn’t managed it.

He couldn’t account for why she kept showing up in his sleep. Maybe it was because everything had happened so fast. He had gotten home and pushed his bedroom door open on a regular Tuesday, thinking nothing of it, but then everything changed.

He had seen Hutch undressed before. Locker rooms. The back of the Torino once, during a stakeout, after Starsky spilled a full cup of coffee across Hutch’s lap and Hutch swore his way into a pair of Starsky’s old sweatpants from the trunk, indignant about the length of them. None of that had ever meant anything.

That Tuesday had meant everything.

It wasn’t just the sight of him, the strong line of Hutch’s back, the solid breadth of his shoulders, or the way his damp hair caught the soft light in the bedroom. It was more than physical attraction, although Starsky couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t part of it.

It was the way something inside him had moved, like a door he hadn’t known was shut suddenly swinging open.

He realized what he wanted right there in that doorway, and he hadn’t looked back.

Except, apparently, in his sleep, he kept looking back anyway.

His subconscious was reviewing the evidence, asking the questions that Starsky hadn’t stopped long enough to ask. It was asking him why he hadn’t told Hutch the truth about Melissa kissing him in the supermarket. He told Hutch that seeing her was nothing, and that was the truth. So what was he afraid of?

Beside him, Hutch roused.

“Hey.” His voice was rough, but his eyes were already finding Starsky’s, already reading something in his face. “You okay?”

“You’re awake.” Starsky rolled toward him and kissed him. “I should be asking you that. Third morning in a row you’ve skipped your jog.”

Hutch pulled him close instead of answering directly. “I’ve been getting plenty of exercise. Nights. Mornings, too, lately.”

“My favorite part of the day,” Starsky agreed.

Hutch pulled back just far enough to look at him properly. “Seriously, Starsk. Something’s on your mind.”

“Can’t get anything past you, can I?”

“Never could.” Hutch kissed him. “I’m not trying to push, I’m just noticing.”

Starsky wavered, finding something true enough to offer that wasn’t the whole truth.

“My father’s memorial is coming up,” he said. “Thirty years. My mother wants me in New York. Will you come with me?”

Hutch propped himself up on one elbow. “You have to ask?”

“I didn’t use to.”

“What’s changed?”

“I don’t know what the rules are anymore. For us. For things like this.”

Hutch was quiet, as though choosing his words carefully. “What we have now doesn’t change who we were before. Not for me.”

“It changes some things.”

“Some things,” Hutch agreed. “Not us.”

Starsky looked at him in the early light. Hutch was simply living, without apparent effort, everything Starsky kept re-examining in his sleep.

“You gave up Jacqui without blinking,” Starsky said. “Every woman after her, too. You’re okay with giving that up?”

“I don’t think of it as giving anything up.” Hutch frowned slightly. “I think of it as gaining the best thing I’ve ever had.” He studied Starsky for a moment. “Why? Are you telling me you’re not ready for this kind of commitment?”

Starsky opened his mouth to say no, of course not, and found the words slower to arrive than they should have been.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” he said finally, and reached for Hutch’s face to make sure he believed it. “There’s no one else for me. I just think there’s a lot we haven’t talked through yet.”

“Like what?”

“Like all of it. What it means for us, and the people who matter to us.” Starsky held his gaze. “I think we should tell our families. Both of us. When we’re in New York, we can tell my mother.”

Something in Hutch’s expression opened slightly. “I’d like that. I don’t want to hide this from anyone we love. I’ll tell my parents too.”

“Okay,” Starsky said.

He felt a wave of relief. He wanted to shout his love from the rooftops, if he could. To have the chance to say how much he loved Hutch, out loud, to someone else. It would make it more real.

“We should get moving,” Hutch said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Dobey’s going to have something to say if we’re late again.”

Starsky nodded and didn’t move right away. He stared at the ceiling a moment longer, the way he’d been doing too often lately, and told himself, for the hundredth time, that the dreams didn’t matter. All that mattered was saying the words out loud, to the people who mattered, in the daylight.

He got up and went to make the coffee.

Chapter 5

~~~~~~~~~Door#1~~~~~~~

Starsky was late, and he knew Hutch wouldn’t be happy about it.

He pushed through the doors, scanning the room the way he always did. Hutch’s chair was empty. Dobey’s door was closed. Neither of those things on their own meant anything. Together, they meant Starsky should have gotten here fifteen minutes ago.

He was halfway to Dobey’s door when it opened, and Hutch came out.

“Sorry I’m late,” Starsky said, falling into step beside him, “I have a very good excuse. Melissa kept me up. I can’t believe how fast time has flown by since we started dating.”

Hutch looked at him, a serious expression on his face. Starsky had to admit that Hutch looked good, and he could see why a beautiful woman like Jacqui fell for him. Starsky ran his hand over his mustache and chuckled to himself. Maybe it was time to shave it off, too.

Starsky swallowed, trying to remember where he left off. He had pushed the dreams he had about a payphone way back to the edges of his mind. The dream wasn’t real, but Melissa was, and that meant something.

He sat down at their desk. “Melissa is excited about New York, too. Wants to visit her parents while I’m there for my father’s memorial. My mother called last night. She can’t wait to meet her. And to see you too, of course.”

Hutch was still looking at him. Not smiling, not nodding along.

Starsky slowed down. “What? You’re staring at me funny.”

Hutch pulled his chair around so it was beside Starsky’s rather than across from him.

“Starsk, I have something to tell you.”

“It’s not the mustache, is it?” Starsky said, though the joke landed flat even to his own ears. Something in Hutch’s posture had already told him this wasn’t that kind of conversation.

“No, partner. I just came out of a briefing with Dobey. A man was found dead in his apartment this morning. A cab driver. He’d been there since before dawn.”

“Dobey wants us on it?”

“Starsky.” Hutch waited until he looked up. “It was Earl.”

Starsky sat very still for a moment. He thought of Earl’s white beard, the way the man drummed the wheel when he was thinking, the standing order every Tuesday.

“What?” He wasn’t sure he heard him right. “Who would want to hurt an old man like Earl?” Starsky said, his teeth clenched.

“I don’t know yet, but Dobey wants us moving on it pronto.”

Starsky blanked for a minute, then refocused on Hutch. “Yeah, yeah, of course,” Starsky said. Then he shook his head. “I’ll call my mother, tell her we can’t make it this weekend.”

“Starsky, it’s the thirtieth anniversary of your father’s passing. You have to be there for the memorial. You’ll only be gone a couple of days, and I can handle things here while you’re gone.”

“Hutch, my mother was a cop’s wife. She’ll understand. If Melissa is serious about dating a cop, she’ll understand too. Besides, Melissa can still go and visit her parents without me.”

“No, Starsky. I won’t let you miss this time with your family. I’m going to run down a few leads, and I can do that by myself. You’ll only be gone a couple of days, and I’ll check in with you if there are any leads, I promise.”

“But you were supposed to come.”

“I know,” Hutch said. “I’ll call your mother and apologize. I just don’t see how Dobey would agree to both of us going away right now.”

“I suppose,” Starsky agreed. “But you shouldn’t be running down leads on a murder case alone.”

“I’ll be careful. And you’ll be reachable.” Hutch met his eyes. “Earl will still need justice when you get back. That’s not going anywhere.”

Starsky looked at him for a long moment. “Call me every day,” Starsky said. “I mean it.”

“Every day,” Hutch replied. “I promise.”

Starsky got up and poured himself a coffee. He thought about Earl Jenkins driving the back streets of the city in his seventies because he couldn’t afford not to.

He thought about his father’s name on a headstone in New York and his mother standing in front of it without him.

He looked at Hutch and saw a glimpse of sadness on his face. “Go be with your family, Starsk. You know this is the right decision.”

“Alright,” Starsky said resolutely. “Alright.”

~~~~~~~~Door#2~~~~~~~

They didn’t talk about it much at the precinct. There was no room to show what he was feeling, and definitely no space for Hutch to show any more sympathy than one cop would show another.

It was only when Starsky’s apartment door closed behind them that he let it out.

He dropped his jacket on the chair and stood in the middle of the room, and then he wasn’t standing still. He was moving, back and forth in front of the sofa, unable to stop.

“Earl,” Starsky said. “Who would want to hurt Earl?” He shook his head, still pacing. “He was just an old man trying to make it to the end of the month. Driving people around the city because he needed the money. Who does that? Who kills a man like that?”

Hutch didn’t try to interrupt the circular monologue. He sat on the edge of the sofa and let Starsky move, watching him with both patience and sympathy, knowing it wasn’t anger he was witnessing, but grief.

After a moment, Starsky stopped. He stood with his hands on his hips and looked at the floor.

“He didn’t deserve it,” Starsky said.

“No,” Hutch agreed. “He didn’t.”

Starsky landed on the sofa, and Hutch sat beside him. Hutch’s hand came to rest on his forearm.

Starsky lifted his eyes and looked at Hutch. “I don’t feel right leaving you here to work this alone,’ Starsky said.

“Your mother is expecting you in New York this weekend,” Hutch said.

“She’s expecting us.”

“I know,” Hutch said. “I feel horrible, but you need to go without me. She shouldn’t be standing at that grave without you.”

“We were going to tell my mother about us,” Starsky reminded him. “That was the plan. Just like we told your parents,” Starsky added.

Starsky thought about the phone call they made together, both of them crowded around the receiver while Hutch called his parents. How Hutch had reached for his hand halfway through, and Starsky had let him take it.

It warmed Starsky’s heart when both Hutch’s mother and father reacted with surprise at first, followed by understanding and support. It felt like one of those rare moments in life when things turn out better than you can ever hope.

Bring Starsky with you next time you come.

Hutch’s mother said it. His father echoed it.

Starsky and Hutch celebrated that night with a bottle of wine and a night of lovemaking.

He could only hope that his mother would be just as supportive.

“We can still tell her,” Hutch said. “I can be on the phone, if you want. But you need to be there in person for the memorial. And now you’re grieving, Earl, too. You need this.”

Hutch understood grief better than most people, and he knew it had to be faced in person, on the right date, to honor its existence.

“I hate going without you,” Starsky said.

“I know,” Hutch said. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

“And tonight?” Starsky said, turning toward him. “Will you be here tonight?”

Hutch looked at him, eyes open with surprise as if he couldn’t believe the question. “Try to keep me away,” he said.

Starsky reached over and took Hutch’s face in both hands, tilting it toward him. He kissed him slowly, making it last.

“I hope my mother accepts you, like your parents accepted me,” Starsky said as he drew back.

“If that was possible, anything is,” Hutch said, smiling.

Starsky pressed his body into Hutch and nudged him backward onto the sofa, then climbed on top, hovering his mouth above Hutch’s.

“Will you take me tonight?” Starsky asked.

Hutch closed the gap and covered his mouth over Starsky’s. His breathing was shallow, his moans deep.

“I love you,” Hutch said, his voice rough with need.

He reached down and gently unbuttoned Starsky’s shirt until he reached his jeans, pulling the rest of the shirt out. Starsky slipped it off all the way, while Hutch tugged his shirt over his head, and they both flung the clothes to the floor.

Their pants and underwear came off next, both sets quickly and hurriedly. Starsky ran his hands over Hutch’s nude body and repeated his plea.

“Now, Hutch. Please.”

They rose from the sofa and moved together to the bedroom. Hutch guided Starsky down beside him, his chest pressed against Starsky’s back. His hand reached around Starsky’s body, and he stroked him, his tongue caressing Starsky’s neck as they moved in perfect rhythm.

“In the drawer,” Starsky moaned.

Hutch followed Starsky’s command and found what he needed, and Starsky felt the coolness as Hutch prepared him gently, and the warmth of Hutch’s breath on his back, and then he felt Hutch slowly enter him, like he was handling something fragile.

“I won’t break, Hutch,” Starsky insisted. “I want to feel every inch of you.”

Hutch complied, pumping faster and faster, unstoppable, like a train that had no brakes.

Starsky cried out. It was an exhilarating rush coursing through him, not pain, but euphoria, reminding him what it truly meant to be alive.

Chapter 6

~~~~~~~~~Door#1~~~~~~~~

Starsky settled onto the sofa in his mother’s living room, Melissa at his side. It had been a long day. First, a visit to the cemetery, where he placed stones on his father’s gravesite. Then his mother asked him to say Kaddish at the synagogue, a place Starsky had rarely visited since he was a child. He would have shared that honor with Nick, but his brother hadn’t even bothered to show up.

Starsky felt grateful that Melissa was there, but at the same time, he wished Hutch had been able to come too.

“David?” Melissa’s voice cut through his thoughts. “I hope you’re not too tired to come with me to my parents’ house tonight. They can’t wait to meet you.”

Starsky looked at Melissa with tired eyes. “Darling, I’m looking forward to meeting your family. I just wish we could do it on a different day, you know? How about tomorrow?”

“But my mother cooked her famous lasagna, and my father said he bought the best bottle of wine he could find,” Melissa said. “We can’t not show up.”

Starsky looked at his mother to check her reaction. Rebecca Starsky tucked her graying hair behind her head and smiled.

“It’s ok, son,” she chimed in. “Go with your girlfriend tonight. You’re leaving tomorrow evening. Don’t put it off. You’ve honored your father today. He would understand. You can thank Ken for the lovely card when he calls.”

“Ma,” Starsky said, “It’s not just that. It’s what Hutch told me when he called earlier.”

“What did Hutch tell you?” Melissa asked.

“He said that another cab driver was found dead today,” he swallowed back his emotion. “It was Earl’s friend Hank. They lived in the same building.”

He could hear Earl’s voice. “We commiserate in the hallways.”

Starsky shuddered at the thought of Earl’s friend being found murdered in his cab the night before. An old man, working to make ends meet, just like Earl, was killed on the job. It made Starsky’s stomach turn.

“I’m sure Hutch is perfectly capable of handling this until you get back, David,” Mellissa said.

“You don’t understand, honey. Now it’s a double murder case, and Hutch is there without me.”

“Did he ask you to come home?” Melissa asked.

“No, of course not. He said he’s going to interview the landlord where Earl and Hank lived, see what he knows.” He looked at his watch. “He should already be done with that. Why hasn’t he called yet?”

Rebecca Starsky patted her son’s arm. “Go with Melissa tonight,” she said. “I can always take a message if Ken calls. Don’t change your plans on account of that.”

Starsky looked back and forth between the two women. He nodded and agreed to keep everyone happy. “Ok, we’ll go see your parents tonight. But I prefer to wait until I hear from Hutch.”

Melissa smiled. “He’d better call soon.” She got up and walked toward the kitchen. “I’ll call my mother and let her know we’re on our way.”

Just then, the phone rang. Melissa was already halfway to the phone, so Starsky’s mother called out, “Would you mind answering that, dear?”

Starsky had already sprung off the couch.

“Hello?” Melissa said into the phone. “I’m sorry, who is this? What kind of name is Huggy Bear?” she chuckled.

Starsky made it to the phone in two strides.

“Yes, Dave is here,” Melissa said politely. She extended the receiver to Starsky with a puzzled expression.

Starsky pressed the phone to his ear.

“Huggy, it’s me,” Starsky said. “What’s wrong?”

“Dobey asked me to call,” Huggy’s voice cracked. “Starsky, Hutch is in the hospital.”

Starsky felt his knees weaken. “What happened?”

He felt Melissa’s hand on his back.

“He took a bullet to the side,” Huggy said. “They think it went clear through and missed any vital organs, but it’s too soon to tell how bad it is. He’s in surgery right now.”

“Who? How?” Starsky managed to ask, a whirlwind of dread flooding his mind.

“Details are murky,” Huggy replied. “Dobey said they didn’t catch the shooter yet. It seems to be tied to that cab driver case you’re working on.”

Starsky cursed under his breath. He glanced at his watch. “I’ll take the next flight home. Tell Dobey I’ll go straight to the hospital when I land.”

“Will do, my friend. And Starsky?”

“Yeah?”

“Hutch is strong. He’ll be okay.”

“Thanks, Hug.”

Starsky slammed down the phone and looked at Melissa.

“Hutch has been shot. We have to go.”

Both Melissa and his mother were standing nervously beside him.

“How is he?” His mother asked.

“Huggy said he’s in surgery. They think the bullet went right through, but we won’t know for a few hours.”

“That’s terrible,” Melissa said. She drew Starsky in for a hug. “Do they know who did it?”

“Not yet,” Starsky said. He stepped back and placed his hands on Melissa’s shoulders. “We have to go, honey. Right now.”

Melissa’s face went from upset to confused.

“But David, we can’t leave. My parents are expecting us in an hour.”

Starsky blinked and felt his temper rise. He inhaled and gained his composure.

“Melissa, did you not hear me? My partner has been shot. I’m sorry about bailing on your parents, I truly am. But Hutch needs me right now.”

Melissa frowned. “Won’t Jacqui be there?” She turned her back to him.

Starsky stayed silent. He didn’t know what to say. It didn’t matter one bit if Jacqui was there, or anyone else, for that matter. This was Hutch. His partner. There was no reason to debate where he needed to be.

Starsky’s mother grabbed his elbow and pulled him aside.

“What can you do tonight that you can’t do tomorrow, Davey?” Rebecca asked in a hushed tone. “He has his doctors and his girlfriend will be there, but your girlfriend, the one you said you’re serious about, deserves a say in this decision, doesn’t she?”

Starsky pulled his arm back from his mother’s grip, his cheeks hot.

He went to Melissa and nudged her to turn around.

“Sweetheart, I don’t care who else is at the hospital or how good a doctor he has looking after him. I’m his partner, his best friend. So, I’m leaving.”

“I’m sorry Hutch is hurt, I truly am,” Melissa said, her eyes glistening. “But my parents went to a lot of trouble. I can’t just take off. I hope you understand.”

“I want you to come with me,” Starsky said. “But if you decide to stay and visit your parents without me, that’s fine too. Your choice.”

“Even your mother says he’s in good hands. There’s nothing you can do that can’t wait until tomorrow,” Melissa insisted. Her eyes had gone from concern to almost anger.

Starsky shook his head and looked at his watch. “I don’t have time to argue with you, Melissa. I have to get to the airport now.”

He hurried to the other room and grabbed his belongings. He could feel her eyes following him.

With his bags in hand, he stopped to kiss his mother on the cheek.

He took a final step toward Melissa.

“Send my regrets to your parents,” he leaned in to kiss her, but she turned away before his lips could land.

He backed away, shocked, then brushed it off and hurried out the door.

~~~~~~~~Door#2~~~~~~~~

“That was beautiful, what you said at your father’s gravesite, David. It’s too bad Nicky wasn’t here to hear it.”

Starsky plopped on the couch beside Rebecca Starsky in her living room. He felt spent, but not in a bad way. He somehow felt energized by Hutch, by his support, albeit from miles away. He couldn’t wait to get home and see him.

“It’s too bad Hutch couldn’t be here, too,” Starsky said. He glanced at his mother. “He knows how important this day was, but our captain needed him to stay behind. It’s a double murder case. I almost didn’t come, but Hutch wouldn’t hear of it.”

Starsky’s mother nodded. “I appreciate Ken’s thoughtful intentions and the card he sent.”

“Don’t gloss over the fact that Nicky made a choice well in advance not to come. I hope his girlfriend doesn’t break his heart when she realizes how he makes his money.”

“David! Your brother is doing very well in Atlantic City. He works for a casino, yes, but it’s legitimate.”

Starsky internally rolled his eyes. He didn’t know exactly how his brother earned his income; maybe it was fully above board, maybe it wasn’t. But for his mother, she had no other choice but to believe in her son.

“Ok, ma. I didn’t come to argue about Nick,” he slid his eyes to his mother. “There is something I want to tell you, though. Give me a minute, and I’ll get Hutch on the phone.”

“Didn’t you talk to him already today?”

“Yes, but that was about the case we’re working on,” Starsky said, his voice trailing off. “Another cab driver has been killed.” Starsky’s heart clenched at the thought of Earl’s friend Hank meeting the same terrible fate as Earl. “This is about something else.”

Starsky wanted to tell his mother the news. He was in love with Hutch. He almost didn’t care how she reacted; he just wanted to say it out loud. He needed to say the words, to make it even more real.

He dialed Hutch’s number and let it ring five or six times. He hung up in frustration.

“It looks like he’s not home,” Starsky said.

Starsky’s mother’s eyes lit up. “You’re seeing someone? That’s it, isn’t it? Why do you need Hutch on the phone to tell me that?”

Starsky got up, his hands in his pockets and faced the window, not really seeing the street below, the yellow cabs driving by, the fruit stand on the corner, the Italian restaurant down the street.

“There is someone special, ma. Someone very, very, very special. Someone I love with all my heart.”

“So why didn’t you bring this special person?” His mother asked.

Starsky turned around, ignoring his rising pulse. “Because he’s at home working on a murder case. He wanted to come, he really did. He sent you a card to let you know how much he regretted missing this.”

“You already explained that about Ken,“ his mother stopped. “Wait, what did you just say?”

Starsky took two strides to the sofa and kneeled at his mother’s feet. “I love him, ma. And he loves me. More than just partners, definitely more than just friends. He’s my soulmate.”

She pushed his hands away and got up. “How could you tell me such a thing? Today, of all days. A day meant for family. You’ve tainted it with your disgusting sense of love!”

Starsky got to his feet. He dusted off his pants and followed his mother to the kitchen. “I’m sorry you feel this way. I had hoped you wouldn’t. Hutch’s parents had a better reaction. I guess I was hoping you would, too. Just know there’s nothing you can say that will change my mind. But I’ll always be your son.”

Just then, the phone rang. Starsky’s mother pursed her lips like she was holding something back. She pivoted and picked up the phone.

“Hello?” She said curtly. “Who? What kind of name is Huggy Bear?”

Starsky gently grabbed the phone away from his mother, dread suddenly surging through him.

“Huggy? What!” He exclaimed. He looked at his watch. “I’m on my way. Tell Dobey I’ll go straight to the hospital when I land.”

He slammed down the phone. “Hutch has been shot. Clear through his side. Doctors are hopeful, but he’s still in surgery…” His voice trailed off as he hurried to collect his bags. He looked at his watch again.

“I’m sorry, ma, I have to go,” he said hurriedly.

She stared at him in disbelief. “You’re leaving me alone the night of your father’s memorial? You just said the doctors are hopeful. There’s nothing you can do tonight that can’t wait until tomorrow.”

Starsky’s eyes widened. “Haven’t you been listening? I love him. I have to go right now.”

“You’re walking out that door for a disgusting display of love? You take one more step, and you’re choosing him over me.”

She glared at her son, challenging him to choose as though his defiance was up for negotiation.

He turned, his suitcase in hand, and stormed out the door.

Chapter 7

~~~~~~~~Door #1~~~~~~~~~

Starsky didn’t regret leaving Melissa in New York. She decided to stay, and he decided to leave. To Starsky, it wasn’t even a choice.

All he cared about was one thing.

He burst through the double doors of the hospital. It was late, but somehow still busy, as nurses with rubber shoes and doctors with stern looks rushed past, like they were in a different universe, where other emergencies took precedence.

He scanned the corridor and spotted Dobey. His head was in his hands, and he was slouched in a plastic chair at the far end of the hallway.

Dobey looked up when he heard Starsky coming. “You made it in record time.”

Starsky didn’t answer. He was already looking through the window.

Hutch lay still in the bed, eyes closed, one arm resting on the blanket, a drip line taped to the inside of his elbow. The room was dim, and Hutch looked pale against the beige walls. Starsky stood at the glass and felt his temperature rise, as a mixture of fear laced with dread surged through him.

Jacqui was in a chair beside his bed.

Starsky felt a knot in his stomach at the sight of her. He wasn’t sure what that meant.

“How is he?” he asked Dobey, not taking his eyes off his partner.

“He came out of surgery about two hours ago. He woke up briefly and asked for you.” Dobey said. “Jacqui was there. She told him you were on your way. That seemed to calm him, and he’s been sleeping since.”

Starsky stood at the glass and held a hand up to it. Jacqui looked up and nodded at him, acknowledging his presence but not moving. It made Starsky’s stomach roll again.

He went to the door to open it. “The doctor said only one person at a time, Starsky.”

He nodded apologetically at his captain. “How long has she been in there?”

“A couple of hours,” Dobey said.

Starsky sighed. “Captain, why don’t you go home and get some sleep, huh?”

Dobey stood up, stretching and rubbing his back. “You’ll call me if anything changes in Hutch’s condition?”

“Of course,” Starsky said.

Starsky waited until the doors closed. Hospital rules didn’t mean much to him. He turned the handle and went in.

The air was stale and smelled of antiseptic. He crossed to Jacqui and put a hand gently on her shoulder.

“Hey,” he said. “You must be exhausted. Why don’t you go home, get a few hours’ sleep, and come back in the morning? I can take it from here.”

Jacqui’s expression turned cold. “I’m not tired, but you must be after your long fight. Did you not think I would be here for him?”

“That thought didn’t cross my mind, Jacqui.”

It was the truth. She simply hadn’t crossed his mind at all. He wasn’t sure what that said about him.

“Hutch is my partner,” he added. “I need to be here for him.”

She looked at him. “You weren’t here for him when some crazy person shot him, were you!” She wasn’t shouting, but her voice was just as harsh.

Starsky nodded. It wasn’t anything he didn’t already regret. “I know that,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Jacqui’s eyes were bright, staring at Hutch.

“He woke up, and I was sitting right here. I was holding his hand,” she said. “He didn’t ask what happened. He didn’t ask me about how I got a call at work in the middle of the afternoon and how I scrambled to find someone to cover my shift because he had a damn bullet in him and how I was left wondering if he would even be alive when I got here!”

She took a breath, shifting her moist eyes to Starsky.

“He didn’t say he was glad I was here at his side, or give me a chance to say, of course, I was here, and I wasn’t leaving.” She stopped, then started. “Do you know the first thing he said?” she asked.

She didn’t wait for an answer.

“He said, ‘is Starsky here?’ That’s it. Just those three words.”

Starsky said nothing. The monitors beeped. Somewhere down the hall, a cart rattled past.

“What does that mean?” she asked. “I’m not even sure he cared that I was here!” Her voice was almost pleading for an answer she could make sense of.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Starsky said. “You’re a nurse. You know how anesthesia can confuse a person.”

It wasn’t a lie. He knew that would make sense to her.

Jacqui nodded. “I suppose,” she said. “But he was looking for you. Not me. That says something, doesn’t it?”

Starsky didn’t answer. The truth about their partnership, their bond, was not something most people understood, and he knew he couldn’t be the one to explain it to her. Only Hutch could try.

She stood, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and swept her arm toward the chair, offering the seat. “Tell him I’ll be back in the morning,” she said.

She picked up her bag and walked out without looking at him again. Starsky stood at the window and watched her cross to the elevator, watched the doors open and close, watched the floor indicator count downward until it stopped.

Then he turned back to the room and sat in the chair, still warm from Jacqui sitting in it. He rested his hands over Hutch’s and felt a sense of relief at being alone with him.

Hutch’s eyes fluttered open. Slow at first, then finding focus.

“Hey,” Hutch said. His voice was rough with sleep. “You’re here.”

“Where else, partner?” Starsky said, squeezing his hand around Hutch’s. “Where else?”

~~~~~~~Door#2~~~~~~~

The plane couldn’t take off fast enough.

It couldn’t fly fast enough. It couldn’t land fast enough.

The crowd at the arrivals gate couldn’t move out of the way fast enough. The parking garage elevator took forty seconds and felt like ten minutes. The Torino, at least, responded to the urgency without fail.

He sped through the streets with his mother’s voice still in his ear, her disapproval, her lack of compassion for his best friend. His soulmate.

He made it to the hospital. The elevator slowly rose to Hutch’s floor with maddening indifference. Starsky watched the numbers change and breathed. No thoughts of his mother and her words could crowd out his singular mission to get to Hutch.

He got off and bounded down the corridor, scanning both directions and skidding to a stop at a glass window. He saw the familiar blond hair peeking out of a blanket.

Then he quietly opened the door.

Dobey was perched in a chair next to his bed. He looked at Starsky with tired eyes.

“Starsky. You made it in record time.”

Starsky took two tentative steps forward.

“How is he?”

“He came out of surgery two hours ago. He woke up once and asked for you. I told him you were on your way. That seemed to calm him down. He’s been sleeping ever since.”

Starsky put a hand on Dobey’s shoulder. “Thanks, captain. So he’s going to be okay?”

“The doctors are very hopeful. No organs were damaged. He’s strong.”

Starsky nodded. He kept nodding for a moment after he’d meant to stop.

He hadn’t been here. That was the thing he couldn’t let go of. Hutch had been alone on that street, running down a lead on a case they were working together, and Starsky had been in New York, and Hutch had taken a bullet, and Starsky had been in New York.

Starsky tried to quell his worry along with his guilt. He felt lightheaded all of a sudden.

Dobey stood up and waved his hand at the chair. “Take a seat, Starsky. You’re looking a little pale.”

“Thanks, Captain. You should go home and get some sleep. I can take it from here.”

Dobey walked to the door. “Call me if there are any changes, you hear?”

Starsky slumped into the chair and nodded. “Will do, captain.”

“And Starsky? Don’t be so hard on yourself. We’ll get the guy who did this.”

Starsky nodded and watched his captain leave.

The room went quiet except for the beeping of the monitors. Starsky couldn’t take his eyes off Hutch, the pallor of him against the pillow, the drip line tapes to his arm, the furrow between his brows like he had when he was frustrated.

Starsky sat in the chair and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and rested his hand over Hutch’s until he heard a soft voice.

“Hey,” Hutch said, his voice barely there. “You’re here.”

Starsky felt like he could breathe for the first time since Huggy had called.

“Where else, my love?” Starsky asked. “Where else?”

Chapter 8

~~~~~~~~Door #1~~~~~~~~~

After a few days in the hospital, mostly watching Hutch sleep, Starsky was finally allowed to take him home. He had tried to sleep at the hospital, but the chair beside Hutch’s bed had left a permanent crick in his neck.

Sleeping on Hutch’s couch was a definite upgrade.

He was surprised he didn’t have to fight Jacqui for the privilege of bringing Hutch home. He also hadn’t talked to Melissa. He figured she needed time to cool down after he left her in New York.

He stretched as he woke, swung his legs to the floor and moved to the entrance of the bedroom alcove. Hutch’s eyes were already open.

“Do you need anything?” Starsky asked.

“I’m fine,” Hutch said. “I’m not an invalid. I can make my own coffee.”

“You were shot.”

“The bullet went straight through.” He said, less than cheery. “The doctor said I should be back to work soon.”

“We’ll see,” Starsky said. “Stay there.”

He filled a glass with water, brought it over, and sat on the edge of the bed. Hutch accepted it without comment and swallowed his painkiller.

“I’ll get you a coffee in a minute,” Starsky said. “I need to call Melissa first. She got back from New York last night.”

“Go ahead.” Hutch nodded, laying his head back down on the pillow. “Don’t leave a lady waiting.”

Starsky went to sit on the sofa and dialed. It rang three times before she picked up.

“Hey,” he said. “It’s me.”

“Hello, David.” Her voice was cool.

“I know it’s been a few days. I was hoping we could sort things out.” He stopped. Listened to her for a moment. “I know I missed your parents’ dinner, Melissa. I thought that was already explained.”

“Not well enough,” she said.

Starsky took a breath. “I understand you’re upset, but my partner was shot.”

He didn’t know how many times he had to say it.

“Let’s not rehash that now,” Melissa cut him off. “I have to get to work. Come over to my place tonight at seven. We can talk properly.”

“Alright,” Starsky agreed. “See you tonight.”

Maybe Melissa wanted to apologize. He would give her that chance. He hung up and went back towards Hutch.

Hutch raised an eyebrow at him. Starsky shook his head once, indicating don’t ask and sat back down, when there was a knock at the door.

“Who could that be?” Hutch said, trying to get up.

Starsky held up a hand, indicating to Hutch to stay put, and went to answer it.

Jacqui was at the door. She nodded good morning to Starsky and stepped around him, and was at Hutch’s bedside before Starsky could close the door.

“Have you changed the dressing?” she said. “Don’t try to get up, Ken. You shouldn’t be on your feet at all.”

“Jacqui.” Hutch’s voice was patient, yet clipped. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”

Starsky looked at Hutch with a questioning eyebrow.

“You were shot,” Jacqui answered, ignoring Hutch’s tone. “And I’m your girlfriend, aren’t I?” She straightened and turned toward the kitchen. “I’ll make coffee. You should have ice on it, too. Starsky, does he have ice?”

“Jacqui, hang on.” Hutch seemed impatient, although he usually did when he was in recovery mode.

Starsky gestured to Jacqui to stay there. “I’ll make the coffee,” he said, and quickly exited the room.

Jacqui sat on the bed. Starsky could hear fragments of their conversation.

“You should go to work,” Hutch said. “I’m fine, really. Besides, Starsky’s here to look after me.”

Starsky couldn’t hear her response. He just knew when he came back out, Jacqui was leaving, glaring at Starsky on her way out. Then the door clicked shut, and the apartment was quiet again.

Hutch eased himself against the pillow. Starsky watched him fidget, as if Hutch could only be comfortable when no one was watching. Or, as though Starsky was the one person he didn’t mind watching.

Starsky took the spot at his bedside. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” Hutch said sharply. “Can we talk about something else?’

Starsky shrugged. Who was he to give girlfriend advice at the moment?

“Good idea,” Starsky answered. “We need to go over a small detail about how exactly you took a bullet when you were only supposed to be doing a routine investigation. Dobey told me a little, but I want to hear it from you.”

Hutch rested his head against the pillow, his brow furrowed like he was cataloguing the events in his mind.

“I went to the cab company. The dispatcher referred me to Earl’s landlord. A man named Norm Hanlon.” Hutch continued. “Hanlon went quiet when I mentioned Earl’s name. Quieter still when I mentioned Hank Whitehead. Hank was killed that morning. I told you about it when I called you.”

“Earl’s friend,” Starsky said. “Hank lived in the same building.”

“Same floor, lived two doors down.” Hutch shifted slightly, favoring his other side without acknowledging it. “The landlord said they kept to themselves mostly, but you’d hear them in the hallway sometimes, comparing notes on fares, complaining about traffic, the way men do when they’ve found someone who understands the job.”

“They commiserated,” Starsky said. “That’s how Earl put it.”

Hutch continued. “After I finished with Hanlon, I was walking back to my car, going over my notes.” A muscle ticked in his tightly clenched jaw. “I didn’t hear him. Didn’t see him. I was on the ground before I cleared my weapon.”

“Two witnesses saw a man with tattoos running from the scene,” Starsky said.

Hutch’s interest perked up. “Tell me what you found out about him.”

“He fits the description of Martin Cooper. Twenty-two. Long hair, full sleeve dragon tattoos on both arms.” Starsky leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Get this, he’s also a cab driver, and he lived in the same building as Earl and Hank. The cab company had been referring drivers there because it’s not far from dispatch. The whole place was practically a satellite office.” He paused. “Dobey sent some uniforms back to interview Hanlon after you were shot. Turns out, Earl and Hank had been talking about a young punk who had been running a side scheme at work. Only declaring about half his fares to the company and skimming the rest.”

Hutch was watching him steadily. “Why wouldn’t Hanlon have mentioned that to me?”

“I don’t know. He probably didn’t connect the dots until Cooper came into the picture. Earl and Hank figured it out, but didn’t have proof. Maybe they talked about it in the hallway one evening without lowering their voices enough.” Starsky shook his head. “If Hanlon heard them, Cooper probably did too. Or heard about it. And decided that two old men who couldn’t stop talking were a problem he knew how to solve.”

Hutch looked at the window. “Cooper killed two people over cab fares?”

“And put a bullet in a cop,” Starsky said. “He’s apparently not very smart. He’s a man who panics and reaches for the worst available option.” He met Hutch’s eyes. “Dobey’s got an APB out. Cooper’s been hiding, but is too stupid to stay hidden long. He’ll surface.”

“I should have seen him coming,” Hutch said, frustration seeping through.

“Stop.” Starsky’s hand came down on the bed, not hard. “You were alone on that street because I was in New York.”

“If it’s not my fault,” Hutch said, “then it certainly isn’t your fault, either.” Then he let out a slow breath, and some of the tension went out of his shoulders. “Besides, being with your mother was more important, and you got to meet Melissa’s family…”

Starsky stood up. “I didn’t meet Melissa’s family. I came back before I got the chance. She wasn’t too happy.”

“I’m sorry,” Hutch said.

“That’s not your fault, either. I thought Melissa would understand it,” Starsky continued. “I couldn’t stay, not after you were in the hospital…”

Hutch looked at Starsky like he knew, without a doubt, what Starsky meant.

“What did she say?” Hutch asked. “When you called just now.”

“She didn’t say much.” Starsky sat back down. “Wants to meet me tonight.”

“Good. You owe it to yourself to make sure there is no unfinished business,” Hutch said.

“Maybe,” Starsky felt a twinge of guilt. “I think she doesn’t understand us. What do I do with that?”

Hutch looked at him for a long moment. “You make her understand. If Melissa is worth it, you should at least try.”

“Have you tried to make Jacqui understand?” Starsky asked.

“She was upset that I asked for you at the hospital,” Hutch explained. “I think she was just scared. I’m trying to make her understand how it is between us…between partners.”

“That’s different,” Starsky said. “Melissa didn’t want me to come home. You were shot, and she wanted me to stay and go to dinner to meet her family,” Starsky argued. “How am I supposed to feel about that?”

“She was probably scared and confused,” Hutch said. “She doesn’t realize how things are between partners, either.”

“I need her to understand.”

“Then tell her,” Hutch said.

“Ok,” Starsky said, nodding because it seemed important enough to Hutch that he couldn’t argue it anymore. “I’ll talk to her tonight.”

Hutch’s mouth formed a smile, but Starsky was sure he saw a flicker of uneasiness behind Hutch’s eyes.

Starsky looked away first.

He would think about what that meant later, when the day was over, after he talked to Melissa and heard what she had to say.

~~~~~~Door#2~~~~~~

Hutch was sore, bandaged, and had been complaining all day.

“I can’t believe a punk with dragon tattoos got the jump on me,” he said, not for the first time.

“We’ll get him,” Starsky said. “Come on, you need your sleep.” He leaned over and kissed his shoulder. “Me too, for that matter.”

“I’m useless, lying here. How are we going to find Cooper? Where do we even start?”

“Won’t have to start anywhere. Cooper’s a man without a plan.” Starsky curled in beside him, careful of his side. “He’ll resurface, or he’ll go looking to score again because he thinks he got away with it. Either way, we’ll be waiting.”

Hutch didn’t argue. He just looked at Starsky with the kind of trust that made Starsky feel like he couldn’t let him down.

He leaned in for a kiss, and not long after, Hutch’s breathing slowed, and Starsky followed him down into a restless sleep.

He dreamed that Hutch was shot again, by the same tattooed twenty-two-year-old with a grudge against the world and two dead men already behind him. That was the only part of his dream that felt true.

Then it began to drift, the way dreams did, picking up people who had no business being there.

Earl appeared first. He was driving his cab, laughing about almost falling into a latrine. Then Starsky was driving the Torino, and Earl was his passenger. Earl asked him where he was going. Starsky didn’t answer. He was waiting to hear Earl’s voice, to tell him which way to turn.

Then Melissa appeared. They were sitting at a dinner table that became, somehow, his mother’s dining room.

“New York is so exciting,” Melissa said. “I like California. But I miss it here.”

“Davey, when are you and Melissa moving here?” his mother asked, and smiled at her own question before anyone answered it.

Melissa’s response cut through Starsky’s heart. “We’re moving as soon as Hutch finds a new partner.”

Starsky opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Hutch isn’t replacing me, and there is no one else. I told you, ma, I love him.

He could hear himself talking, but the words landed in a vacuum.

Melissa pressed a finger to his lips. “Shh, David. You’re not thinking straight.”

The dining room became the hospital room. Jacqui was there now, too, and Melissa was steering him gently by the elbow toward the door.

Let’s go, David. Jacqui will take care of him.

And then New York again. They had an apartment above an Italian restaurant, Melissa at the stove, the smell of tomato sauce thick in the air.

“I went to the market,” she said. “Picked up the sauce you like. You love lasagna.”

She pulled the dish from the oven. The top was black, burnt past saving.

“Dinner’s ready,” she said, smiling at the ruined dish like it was perfect. “Come eat before it gets cold. I can’t wait until we move somewhere bigger,” she added. “After we’re married.”

Starsky’s eyes opened.

The room was dark. His heart was pumping, as though he had just run a race.

“Starsk?” Hutch’s voice was thick with sleep, but the concern in it was already awake. “You okay?”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.” Starsky blinked the room into focus. “Go back to sleep.”

“Not until you explain why you just told your physiotherapist you would move after you’re married.”

Starsky went cold. “What?”

“You said it. Just now. ‘Okay, Melissa, we’ll move after we’re married.‘” Hutch’s arm came around him, a faint chuckle trying to mask the hurt in his eyes. “You planning a future I don’t know about?”

“It was a dream, Hutch. A bad one.” Starsky explained. “I haven’t even thought about her.”

“Until lately, you mean.”

Starsky said nothing, which was its own kind of answer.

“This wasn’t the first dream, was it?” Hutch asked.

Starsky couldn’t deny it.

“No, but it’s not just her. I dreamed about Jacqui, too. She was at the hospital,” Starsky admitted, because there was no good way around it now.

“Wonderful. A woman I haven’t thought about in ages, and you’re dreaming about her in a hospital room, doing what, exactly?”

“Sending me away. I don’t remember all of it, just that she was in and I was out. And then my mother found Melissa and me an apartment over an Italian restaurant in New York.”

Hutch was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice had lost its teasing edge.

“I think I get what’s going on,” Hutch said. “We jumped into this fast. I thought we were handling it, but you’re dreaming about old girlfriends and never-were girlfriends, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that.”

“The dreams don’t mean anything,” Starsky said again.

“Are you sure? Because sometimes they do. Sometimes a dream is the only place your mind feels safe enough to tell you something.”

Starsky closed his eyes. If his mind was trying to tell him something, he genuinely didn’t know what it was.

“Ok. I suppose you’re too sophisticated to admit that life would be easier,” Starsky took a breath, “if we both just dated women. That’s what’s expected.” He turned to look at Hutch. “But tell me exactly how I’m supposed to do that? How is that even possible, knowing what I know now, and feeling what I feel?”

Hutch’s lips pressed together, like he understood the question, but not the answer.

“All I know is that I won’t pretend anymore,” Hutch said,” but I’m not the one having dreams.” Hutch’s voice softened slightly. “Just tell me one thing. Do you regret any of it? Do you wish you were getting married, settling into some house with a woman that you would never have to explain to anyone?”

“No.” Starsky pulled him close, found his hand, and held it against his own chest. “This is exactly where I want to be. I think the dreams are just my mind being afraid of losing you. And if I did lose you, some stupid corner of my brain wants to believe you’d still want me happy. Even somewhere else. Even with someone else.”

“By you living above an Italian restaurant with Melissa Waters?” Hutch didn’t try to hide his sarcasm.

“Didn’t you hear anything else I said?”

“I heard all of it,” Hutch answered. “I just don’t know which part I’m supposed to believe.”

Starsky turned and pressed his lips to Hutch’s shoulder.

“Believe that I don’t want to lose you.” His voice was hushed. “That’s all I ask.”

Hutch didn’t pull away, and for now, that said enough.

Starsky closed his eyes and willed the rest of the night to be dreamless, and eventually, it was.

Chapter 9

~~~~~~~~Door #1~~~~~~~~~

Starsky glanced at his watch. Five minutes to seven. He didn’t want to be late. He didn’t especially want to be early either.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, wondering if this was a good idea. Melissa’s apartment light was on. She was up there, waiting for him to come up so they could rehash New York properly.

Starsky usually made decisions about women more quickly than this. Melissa had made it clear that leaving her to go to Hutch wasn’t acceptable. In the past, with other women, that alone would have been a breaking point. He would have either smoothed it over or moved on.

If Melissa was going to try to argue him out of that tonight, this whole conversation was pointless before it started.

And yet, maybe there was a middle ground somewhere. He had to at least try.

Hutch’s voice came back to him. You owe it to yourself to make sure there’s no unfinished business.

Maybe if Starsky could make her understand, they could keep going. Maybe this relationship could be different, because if he couldn’t make it work with a woman like Melissa, what hope did he have?

He found himself at her door, hand raised.

Try to make her understand, Hutch’s voice said again.

Melissa opened on the first knock. “David.” Her tone was even. “I’m glad you came.”

She was still in her work clothes, hair pulled back in a ponytail, though he caught a trace of perfume as he stepped past her.

“Can I sit?” he asked.

She gestured at the sofa without much enthusiasm and took the chair across from it herself, putting a coffee table’s width of distance between them.

“You wanted to talk,” Starsky said. “So did I.”

Melissa didn’t waste time. “You owe me an apology,” she said.

Starsky felt a bristle, then took a calming breath. “I already apologized. In New York.”

“You apologized for the timing.” Melissa folded her hands in her lap. “Not for what it told me.”

“And what did it tell you?”

“That I came in second.” She held his eyes. “To whatever it is that makes you stop thinking the minute his name comes up.”

Starsky didn’t argue with that, because he couldn’t.

“Hutch was shot,” he repeated. “He was in surgery. There was no version of that night where I stayed in New York. That part isn’t up for negotiation.”

“I do understand it.” Her voice didn’t rise. “What I don’t understand is what happens next time. Because there will be a next time, David. That’s just the job, the partnership, whatever you want to call it. I need to know if I’m always going to be standing outside it, waiting to find out where I rank.”

“It’s not a ranking.”

“Then what is it?”

Starsky looked at her. He wanted to give her something true instead of something that would smooth it over.

“Hutch and I have been partners for years,” he said. “Before you. Before Jacqui. We built something that doesn’t have an obvious name. It’s not just the job. It’s not just friendship. It’s the person you run toward without thinking, every time, no matter what else is happening.” He stopped, catching his breath. “That doesn’t mean there’s no room for anyone else. It just means I’ll never—”

“Never what?” Melissa’s voice cut through him. “Never not choose him?”

Starsky didn’t answer right away.

“I don’t believe it has to be one or the other,” he said finally. “I don’t think this has to operate like a score sheet, where every choice made for him is a strike against you.”

Melissa stood and walked to the window, her back to him. “Maybe not in theory, but in practice, that’s exactly how it’s felt.”

She stayed there, looking out at the street.

“Hutch getting shot must have been scary. At that moment, I don’t blame you for being confused about what to do. I’m not asking you to deny that.”

“Then what are you asking?” he needed to know.

She turned around.

“Do you believe in second chances,” she asked, “or just a slower version of the same ending?”

“I believe in second chances,” Starsky said. “If it’s for the right reasons.”

She sighed. “The ending isn’t certain. For anybody,” she said. “All we have in our control is honesty.” She looked at him. “That’s the only way we can get it right.”

Starsky crossed the room and stood in front of her, close enough that she had to look up at him.

“Ok, here’s honesty for you. I was scared when Hutch got shot, yes, but not confused about what to do. I would do it again. I need you to understand that.”

“I’m beginning to,” she said. “I just don’t want to be the consolation prize.”

“You’re not,” he said, shaking his head. “I do care about you. That part was never a lie.”

“I want to believe that.” She reached up and touched his cheek, then rubbed his mustache. “If I want you, I have no other choice, do I?”

She raised her chin, offering her lips. Starsky didn’t pull back from her kiss.

It was a step forward. Not quite forgiveness, more like two people agreeing, without saying so, to try again, because neither of them saw any other choice.

******

Starsky balanced the pizza box in one hand and let himself into Hutch’s apartment with the other. Hutch looked up from the book in his lap, surprise giving way to something warmer.

“You brought dinner. Thanks, I’m starving.” He set the book aside. “How’d it go with Melissa?”

“You were right about talking to her. I think I made her understand.” Starsky set the box on the coffee table. “About you and me. How partners work. I think it’s settled.”

“That’s good, buddy.” Hutch’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m glad.”

“When you’re back on your feet, the four of us should celebrate properly. Dinner, the works.”

Something in Hutch’s face went still. “I broke up with Jacqui,” he blurted out.

Starsky felt the floor tilt slightly, in a way that made no sense given that his own evening had, by any measure, gone well.

“What? When?”

“Earlier. She came by.” Hutch looked down at the pizza box rather than at Starsky. “She’s sweet and kind, Starsk. I told her it was over anyway.”

“Why?”

“Things were moving fast. I told her I didn’t have room for something serious right now.”

“What did she say to that?”

Hutch’s mouth twisted, somewhere between a wince and a smile. “She said, and I’m quoting her exactly, ‘Then tell me why you have room for your partner. He was the first person you asked for in the hospital.’ She was never going to let that go, and I realized, I was never going to take it back.” He looked up. “I tried to make her understand, but she never quite got me. Or got us, I guess.”

Starsky didn’t know the name for what he felt at that moment.

“I’m sorry,” Starsky said.

“It was getting to be too much,” Hutch said. “And at the same time, not enough.” He picked up a piece of pizza without eating it.

“I always thought you two looked happy.”

“We were, for a while.” Hutch finally took a bite, chewing slowly. He looked into Starsky’s eyes. “She wasn’t the one.” Then he shook his head and dropped his gaze. “It sounds like you did a better job explaining things to Melissa than I did with Jacqui.”

Starsky didn’t answer.

He moved closer to Hutch and took a slice for himself, and they ate without saying much else.

~~~~~~~~~~Door #2~~~~~~~~~~

Hutch was quiet the next morning. He took his pills without comment. Drank the orange juice with the pulp Starsky had bought by mistake, without a word about it. By the afternoon, he had gone for a nap and hadn’t once asked Starsky to come tuck him in.

By evening, Starsky was worried enough to check his temperature three times.

“You’re not running a fever,” he said, hand still resting on Hutch’s forehead. “The swelling’s down. And you haven’t complained once today, which is somehow worse.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “So I have one question. What’s wrong?”

Hutch turned away. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened when you told your mother about us? Or should I just trust your dreams about marrying your physiotherapist to fill in the gaps?”

Starsky’s stomach dropped. He hadn’t meant to hide the conversation with his mother. He had just been waiting for a moment that wasn’t already crowded with everything else.

“For the hundredth time, Hutch, those dreams don’t mean anything.”

“Okay,” Hutch said, though it didn’t sound like agreement so much as exhaustion. “Then why do I feel like I’ve been banished from something?”

“Not you. Me.” Starsky reached for his hand. “My mother didn’t take it well. I don’t know if she ever will. Then I got the call about you in the hospital, and I left. She knows where to find me.”

“Where’s that?”

“With you,” Starsky said plainly, no joke in it this time. “Nowhere else. No one else.”

“You keep saying that.”

“I’ll keep saying it until it sticks in your brain.” Starsky held his gaze. “I’m sorry I’ve made you doubt it. That’s on me, not you.”

Hutch studied him for a moment. “If my parents could accept this,” he said, “maybe there’s hope for your mother yet.”

“Maybe.” Starsky leaned down and kissed his forehead. “But hope is not a plan. It’s just something we want but can’t control.”

“Then let’s not make a plan tonight.” Hutch reached up and pulled him down beside him, careful of his side. “Just stay here. No dreams. No mothers. No Melissa Waters and her burnt lasagna.”

Starsky laughed despite himself. “I really say everything in my sleep, don’t I?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t matter,” Hutch said. “I’m choosing to focus on what you say in the daylight, not what you dream in the dark.”

He pulled Starsky’s arm over himself like a blanket, and Starsky let out a deep sigh. In that moment, that was all he needed.

Chapter 10

~~~~~~~~Door #1~~~~~~~~~

You’ll never not choose him.

Those words awakened him. It wasn’t Melissa talking. He could sense she was asleep.

He kept his eyes closed. He didn’t want to open them yet, a dream still clinging to him, until the shadows of the bedroom gently nudged him back to wakefulness. The body beside him stirred, and a delicate arm curled around him.

Starsky drew her in, feeling satisfied, content even, that they had found a middle ground after they talked.

“What were you dreaming about?” Melissa whispered.

Then a rush of reality surged through him as he recalled the dream. It felt so real.

Hutch was in it, not a hazy outline of him, not a distant shape of his body, but the full image of him, dripping with water, stepping out of a shower. His skin glistened, the defined muscles of his six-foot-one frame standing there, inviting Starsky with his eyes to come closer. Starsky went to him, not with hesitation but with urgency, and then their mouths met–

He blinked himself awake. He should just ignore it, let it go. After all, it was just a dream, crafted by his subconscious mind. They weren’t meant to be taken literally. They were simply manifestations of thoughts that you can’t put your finger on during the day.

Maybe it was the thought of losing Hutch. Thinking about how he was shot was not something Starsky liked to dwell on in the waking hours. So, his subconscious did it for him. That had to be it.

He should use the lingering passion and turn to his girlfriend, the woman who shared his bed. He turned to her and reached out, but she didn’t move, leaving him alone, without a connection. He brushed her shoulder, hoping she would respond to his soft probes.

“David,” she whispered. “Will you answer me? What were you dreaming about?”

He didn’t want to talk; he was sure she could sense that.

“Shh,” he answered. “Melissa, I need you right now.”

She shifted away from him. “You’ve been having dreams all week. You could barely keep your eyes open at dinner tonight. When are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry,” Starsky said. Any remaining strength to pursue her affections had disappeared. He stroked his mustache, looking at nothing. “I didn’t mean to keep you up. It’s just the case,” he said. “Martin Cooper is still out there.”

It wasn’t a total lie. The man who shot Hutch was still on the loose, and that was something that didn’t escape Starsky’s thoughts for a single minute. But that wasn’t the only thing on his mind.

“Losing Earl has been hard on you. I get it,” she said sweetly. “But you can’t let your job rule your life, David.”

Starsky rolled, frustrated, onto his back. The anguish of losing Earl was real. But that was separate from the vivid dreams that had been filling his nights.

“Go back to sleep, David. You need your sleep. So do I. I have several new patients lined up this week. More firefighters,” she chuckled. “That should be fun.”

He gave her a peck on the cheek. “I don’t want to keep you up,” he said. “I’ll go read for a while on the couch,” he said, knowing that falling to sleep was going to be impossible.

Melissa turned and didn’t argue.

As he lay on the worn cushions of the sofa, he could hear her soft breathing as Melissa drifted back to sleep.

Starsky closed his eyes, drifting to sleep, hoping he wouldn’t dream. At the same time, hoping he would.

~~~~~~~~~~Door #2~~~~~~~~~~

Starsky couldn’t take it anymore.

He was exhausted, but it wasn’t because he hadn’t slept. The vividness of his recurring dreams proved he had. Strange actors, bizarre dialogue and fuzzy plots. He supposed dreams were better than lying awake, in the darkness of the bedroom, where his brain fed him the stories it was too afraid to tell him in the daylight.

He knew that Hutch had noticed the dark circles under his eyes. The worry on Hutch’s face made that undeniable. His blue eyes held growing concern each time Starsky yawned. It was the subtle arch of Hutch’s brow when Starsky insisted he wasn’t hungry, replacing a breakfast of bacon and eggs with nothing but coffee. He knew Hutch was worried about what the dreams meant. Starsky desperately wanted Hutch to understand they didn’t mean what he thought.

But how else should a person react when their best friend, their so-called soulmate and lover, calls out the name of another person in his sleep?

It happened the night before. Starsky had awoken abruptly to the sound of his own voice. The dream was with him, for that one moment, when he was still caught between two worlds. Melissa’s face was clear in his mind’s eye, then disappeared as the rustle of sheets and the movement of the warm body next to him brought him back to full awakeness.

“Starsk, wake up,” the voice pleaded. “You were dreaming again.”

Starsky sat up in bed and rubbed his temple. “I’m sorry,” he said. He looked at Hutch. He was lying on his back, his eyes fixated on the ceiling.

“You were talking in your sleep this time,” Hutch said.

“What are you talking about?” Starsky asked, and felt the question land somewhere beneath his ribs.

Hutch swallowed hard, the moment visible in his throat. “You said ‘That was a nice kiss,’ and then you said something else.

Starsky’s throat went dry. “What did I say?”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Hutch rose and sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, hands pressed flat against his forehead. He was quiet for a moment.

“Just her name,” Hutch whispered.

“Whose name?”

But he knew.

“Melissa,” Hutch said. “Who else have you been dreaming about for weeks?”

Starsky tried to calm his breathing. “She kissed me, Hutch, not the other way around.”

“What?” Hutch’s voice rose an octave as he got up. “That really happened?”

“In the supermarket that day. I should have told you, I know that.”

Hutch’s voice was still rough from sleep. “It sounds like you didn’t exactly stop her!”

“It all happened so fast,” Starsky insisted. “But you’re right, I didn’t stop it either. It’s like I needed to know if…”

“If what?” Hutch’s voice was weak.

“If there was any unfinished business,” Starsky said. “Not because I thought there would be, but because I needed to put the question out of my mind. And I told you the important part, which is that it was nothing.”

Hutch swung back around, grabbing a pillow.

“Where are you going?” Starsky asked, afraid of what he had done. He reached out to pull Hutch back down beside him.

Hutch’s arm slipped from his hand. “The fact that you didn’t tell me says more than anything. I’m going to sleep on the couch,” he said. “I don’t want to keep you from your dreams.”

Starsky was fully awake. “I’m the one who’s keeping you up,” he said. “You’re still recovering. Don’t go, please.”

Hutch was already pulling on his pajama bottoms, his back to Starsky. “I think you still have unfinished business,” he said. “At least in your dreams you do.”

“I thought you were choosing to believe in what I say, not what I dream,” Starsky said, his voice weak from pleading.

“I was willing to,” Hutch said. “Until it became about something you did, not something you dreamt.”

He stood and left the room. Starsky heard the springs creak in protest as Hutch settled onto the couch.

Then he felt the cold move into the space next to him.

He closed his eyes. He wished the dreams would stop. Melissa had no claim on his waking life. None whatsoever. That kiss really did mean nothing. He shouldn’t have let it happen just to prove what he already knew.

Yet, he hadn’t stopped it, and he had to live with his choice, while his dreams dragged her into his subconscious, waking him with guilt for reasons that didn’t belong to him.

Because, without hesitation, he would tell her no.

Sorry, he would say, or sometimes nothing at all, just a shake of his head. I’m taken. I’m very much in love, and it isn’t with you.

And he meant it. Every time, in the dream, he meant it completely.

He was very much in love. With Hutch. There was no doubt in his mind about that.

The dreams weren’t hidden temptations. They were something else, somewhere else, another life that was being lived without him in it. But, not a life he longed for. He tried to explain that to Hutch, but his words landed flat, and why wouldn’t they? He barely understood it himself.

All he knew was that he was running the same test over and over, arriving at the same answer; he had never been more sure of his love. And yet, it seemed like his dreams were going to convince the love of his life of something different.

His sleeping voice kept saying her name, and Hutch kept hearing it, and the distance between them had been growing because he didn’t know anymore how to close it.

Chapter 11

~~~~~~~~Door #1~~~~~~~~~

Starsk gripped the wheel a little tighter.

Hutch was next to him in the Torino. Hutch wasn’t yet cleared for active duty, but it felt like a step forward just to be back. He credited his recovery to his daily dose of goat’s milk, but Starsky knew it was really Hutch’s way of saying thank you for being there and putting up with him until he was back on his feet.

Starsky yawned. He craved coffee. He hoped there was a full pot waiting for him at the precinct and, ideally, nobody asking him questions while he drank it.

“You look terrible,” Hutch said, with the wry wit he reserved for his partner.

“Good morning to you, too.”

“Did you sleep?”

Starsky knew where the question was heading. He was supposed to say not much, Melissa kept me up, and Hutch was supposed to roll his eyes at how uncouth he was, and they’d both pretend the exchange was funnier than it was, and that would be that. It was a routine they’d run before. It had always felt natural.

This morning, it didn’t fit, for reasons Starsky wasn’t prepared to examine at a traffic light.

“I slept fine,” he said.

Hutch looked at him for a moment, but seemed to ignore his obvious lie. Starsky was grateful for that. He turned his eyes back to the road.

He was pulling away from the light when Starsky caught the movement.

A man was coming out of the alley beside the Jungle Club. A man wearing a baseball cap pulled low and a black t-shirt, moving stealthily around the corner. He was already half-turned away, but the arms were visible. Both of them inked from wrist to elbow, unmistakable dragon tattoos.

“Hutch.”

“I see him.”

“He’s not that stupid, is he?”

“Only one way to find out,” Hutch answered.

Starsky pulled to the curb, and they were out of the car before it had fully stopped. Starsky went wide, Hutch cut straight, closing the angle.

The man turned, saw them, and ran.

“Stop! Police!” Hutch’s voice carried across the street, his weapon already clear of the holster.

But Cooper was fast, and the alley swallowed him whole.

They went in after him, past the dumpsters, past the stacked pallets, and hit the far end at a dead run.

Brick wall.

No Cooper.

Starsky put his hands on his knees and caught his breath. Hutch stood beside him, chest rising and falling, scanning the wall as if it might explain.

“Where did he go?” Starsky said.

“No idea,” Hutch holstered his weapon. He looked up at the fire escape, then back at Starsky. “He’s fast.”

“He’s twenty-two,” Starsky said. “We used to be fast.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“I just did.” Starsky straightened up. “Maybe we’re not meant to have foot chases anymore.”

“I think maybe you’re right,” Hutch said. “We should talk about that when we’re not so tired from one.”

They walked back through the alley at a brisk pace, Starsky purposely a step behind Hutch, maybe to make him feel better. Starsky became aware, somewhere between the dumpsters and the street, that the tiredness behind his eyes had nothing to do with sleep and everything to do with the dream he’d woken from at three in the morning, no matter how fast he moved.

He pushed the dream back where it belonged.

“Dobey’s going to ask why we were on foot in an alley,” Hutch said as they reached the car.

“Dobey’s going to ask why you were on foot in an alley,” Starsky said. “You’re not supposed to be back on the street yet.”

Hutch considered this. “We didn’t catch anyone. Technically, it was just a brisk walk.”

“In a dead-end alley. With our weapons drawn.”

“Details,” Hutch said.

Starsky looked at him. Hutch looked perfectly composed, and yet, his eyes looked tired, too. It caught Starsky off guard, and he realized he was so wrapped up in himself that he hadn’t been paying attention.

He looked away and got in the car, then back at Hutch.

“Everything okay?”

Hutch did a double-take. “Yeah, it’s fine. Jacqui called me again last night.” He looked over at Starsky. “I’m glad you and Melissa are getting along so well. Jacqui keeps trying to convince me that breaking up was a mistake.”

“What do you think?” Starsky asked. “Was it a mistake?”

“I think I’m supposed to think it was,” Hutch said, looking over. “Everything in the universe is trying to tell me that. Why would I let a great girl like Jacqui get away?”

“If it was meant to be, you’d know it,” Starsky said.

“Like Melissa and you?”

The look on Hutch’s face was hopeful, like Starsky’s answer meant something to him. Starsky just couldn’t place whether he hoped the answer was yes or no.

“I wish I could say yes,” Starsky said, his eyes downcast. “The truth is, I’ve been sleeping on the couch lately.”

“You have?” Hutch’s voice was filled with genuine concern. “What’s going on?”

“I wish I could explain it,” Starsky said. “We’re together, but at the same time, I’m not sure if it’s because we both want this to work, or if we’re just afraid of it failing.”

“You want to talk about it?” Hutch asked.

Starsky did want to talk about it, but didn’t even know where to start.

“Maybe,” Starsky said, starting the car. “Yes,” he changed his mind. “Later, though. Right now, you’ll need to explain to Dobey about deciding to go after Cooper instead of calling it in.”

Hutch glanced at Starsky, the concern on his face letting go, if for a moment.

“Who, me?” Hutch asked.

“It certainly wasn’t me,” Starsky answered.

Hutch smiled and didn’t argue. It felt good, and was enough for Starsky to forget about everything else for a while.

~~~~~~~~~Door#2~~~~~~~~

Hutch had insisted on driving. He was back to work, but not yet fully up to speed. A foot chase, running after Cooper, who had disappeared down an alley, had been proof enough of that. For Starsky, too, for that matter.

Hutch pulled the car out of Huggy’s lot, and Starsky watched his hands on the wheel and the way he looked straight ahead, with the blankness of someone holding something back.

Hutch finally spoke. “Huggy had some interesting information.”

Starsky was glad for the opening. “Yeah. Cooper has been asking around town about us.”

Hutch nodded. “Not the sharpest knife in the drawer.”

“How could he be so stupid, knowing we chased him in the alley, but still choosing to hang around the city?”

“Apparently not so stupid that he’s been caught yet.” Hutch’s jaw hardened. “He’s still out there, slinking around, somehow.”

“If we’d both been up to speed, we would have caught him.”

Hutch didn’t answer that. Just shrugged and kept driving, the silence creeping back in.

Starsky turned to the window. They needed to talk. Not about Cooper.

“Hutch.”

“Not here.” Hutch’s eyes stayed on the road. “Not now.”

“Now’s as good a time as any.” Starsky kept his voice level. He knew an outburst would only give Hutch an excuse to end the conversation. “You don’t get to pick every time, every place. That’s not how this works.”

Hutch gripped the wheel. He didn’t say anything for a block, until finally, “So talk.”

Starsky opened his mouth, trying to find the right words. He needed Hutch to understand how he turned Melissa down every single time, in the dreams.

Melissa, I’m taken, I’m very much in love, and it isn’t with you.

That had to count for something. It should be the only part that mattered. He needed it to land instead of sounding like a variation of the same denial that Hutch had already stopped believing.

“For starters,” Starsky said, “how long are you planning to sleep at your apartment?” His voice cracked. “Without me?”

Hutch stared at him. “That’s all you want to know?”

“It feels like it’s been forever, Hutch.”

The precinct came into view. Hutch pulled into the lot and cut the engine, and they sat for a moment in the parked car.

“How long are you going to pretend everything’s fine?” Hutch said, finally. He wasn’t looking at Starsky. He was looking at the precinct doors, at nothing.

“I’m not pretending.”

“You are.” Hutch turned to face him. His eyes were tired, yet underneath, they were the same eyes that had pinned Starsky outside the shower one Tuesday evening and changed everything without asking permission.

Hutch’s tone went from clipped to somber.

“You tell me every single day there’s no one else. Then, you tell me you kissed Melissa in the supermarket.”

“No, she kissed me. There’s a difference.”

“Maybe in another time, another place. But here, right now, I think there’s no difference at all in who kissed who. You say her name in your sleep, and I lie there and listen to it, and in the morning you tell me it doesn’t mean anything. Both of those things can’t keep being true forever, Starsky. Eventually, I need you to pick one.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It’s exactly that simple,” Hutch’s voice escalated. “You’re the one making it complicated.”

Starsky felt something close to panic overtaking him.

“Don’t try to tell me you’re fine with this,” Hutch added. “It’s me you’re talking to. I know what fine looks like on you, and this isn’t it.”

“I’m not denying anything,” Starsky dug deep to find his last remnants of calm. “I know it’s not okay.” He looked at Hutch, not bothering to wipe the dampness that formed on his lashes. “I don’t know how to fix it.”

“I do,” Hutch said.

Starsky looked at him with hope. “How?”

Hutch held his gaze for a long moment. “Stop dreaming about a life with someone else.”

Starsky looked away, discouraged. “How am I supposed to control what I dream about at night?”

Hutch shook his head, like he was processing his own disbelief. “You make a choice in the daylight.”

Hutch didn’t give Starsky a chance to respond. He got out of the car and shut him out.

Starsky sat in the car for a moment longer, alone, staring at the closed door to the precinct that Hutch had disappeared through.

Chapter 12

~~~~~~~~Door #1~~~~~~~~~

Starsky couldn’t ignore it any longer. The feeling of trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. Persistence and hope followed by frustration and finally acceptance of what wasn’t meant to be.

He knew he was doing the right thing. He had even run it by Hutch, who agreed. He told him a man like Starsky shouldn’t spend his nights sleeping on the couch. That he deserved something real.

By the time he found a parking spot, he was wondering what had taken him so long. By the time he was sitting across from Melissa in the clinic cafeteria, he had categorized it somewhere between overdue and inevitable.

Melissa sat there, her eyes stern and judging, two cups of coffee in front of her, hair draped over one shoulder.

Starsky sat down across from her.

“Hello, David,” she said. “You look good. You shaved your mustache.”

Starsky skimmed his smooth upper lip. He shaved off his mustache the day before. For some reason, it felt right. Like it was time. Well past time.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” she asked, pushing a cup in front of him.

Starsky lifted the cup to his lips, looking over the rim at her. He cast his eyes downward. “I think you know,” Starsky said.

“I think I need to hear from you,” she said.

“Come on, Melissa. How many nights do I have to sleep on the sofa? You think I’m there because I’m actually reading a book?” he asked.

“I never asked you to leave.”

“You never asked me to stay.”

“What is this game we’re playing, David? First, you leave me in New York. Then, you apologize to me and practically seduce me. And now, you think everything is my fault?”

Starsky wasn’t deterred by her anger. He knew he deserved it. The time had come to stop circling.

“I care about you, Melissa, but I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

She crushed a napkin into a ball and turned it around in her hand.

“I see. Are you sure? Because lately you’ve been happy taking me to bed, and then mumbling things in your dreams you won’t share with me. So, why now?”

She set the cup down, looking at him steadily. As though she was sure he would change his mind.

“I’m sorry, Melissa,” Starsky said. “I know I haven’t exactly been fair.”

“So, you are here to apologize again?” she said, like that was the only logical explanation. “Because, if you are, it’s going to take a lot more than a sweet smile and a promise this time.”

Starsky cringed at his own deception. The lies weren’t on purpose. They were a habit he had developed over so many years, telling himself and everyone else what he thought they wanted to hear, that it had begun to feel like the most natural thing in the world.

But it wasn’t the truth, and this is where the lies ended.

“Not exactly. Not in the way you mean,” he said. “I am sorry about your parents’ dinner. I know what it meant to you. But I’m not sorry for leaving New York that day. I never was. I need you to understand that.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “Believe it or not, I understand.” Her voice softened. “I’m not the monster you think I am.”

“I don’t think that, darling,” Starsky said. “If anyone’s been a monster here, it’s been me.”

She didn’t disagree, her gaze shifting from hurt to neutral.

“I don’t understand why you’re having dreams every night. They aren’t dreams about me. It’s not my voice you’re hearing.”

Starsky stayed quiet.

“You said his name, you know.” Melissa looked up from her cup. “You said his name in your sleep. More than once.”

Starsky held her gaze. He didn’t know that part. But he wasn’t sorry about it, either.

“You were wrong,” Melissa said. “This has nothing to do with whether I can accept Hutch’s place in your life. I know that you’re partners with a tight bond, a fortress actually.” She turned her cup in her hands and looked up at him. “Do you know what I noticed, the very first time Hutch came to pick you up from a session?”

Starsky still couldn’t speak.

“Your whole body changed,” she said. “Not dramatically, but like something in you relaxed.” She looked away, like she was there in the moment. “And every time he left the room, your eyes followed him out. Every time he came back, they found him again. Like a compass.” She gave a small, sad smile. “I may as well not have been there. I was surprised when you asked me out in the first place.”

“He’s my partner,” Starsky said. “We have a—”

“Special bond. So it’s been said.” Her tone was softer now. “But let’s not dance around the truth anymore. It goes beyond that, doesn’t it?”

He nodded. It was all he could do.

She shook her head and chuckled. “Even up to this very second, I was hoping to be wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “You deserve someone who gets it right.”

“You gave me what you had,” she said. “I just wasn’t the one you were ever going to give it all to.” She gathered herself and stood, picking up her bag. “You’re doing me a favor, you know. I don’t think it was ever meant to be. Not for us.”

“I am sorry.”

She stopped, then turned back.

“I hope you find a way to get it right,” she said. “I think you already know where to start.”

She walked out, and Starsky sat under the overhead lights, knowing what she said in his heart was true because she had no reason to lie about it.

Then he picked up his coffee, took a long sip, and reached for his car keys.

He left the clinic and didn’t look back.

~~~~~~~~Door#2~~~~~~~~~

You make a choice in the daylight.

Hutch’s words reverberated in Starsky’s ears, refusing to move on. He knew Hutch was right. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that being right didn’t make the dreams about Melissa disappear, or the guilt that came with them, or the sense that something was incomplete even though, awake, he had no doubts at all.

He needed to finish it. Not for Hutch alone, though that was reason enough, but for his own sake.

There was only one place he could think to start.

He told himself on the drive over that this was probably a strange idea. By the time he found a parking spot, he was fairly certain it was. By the time he was sitting across from Melissa in the clinic’s cafeteria, he had categorized it somewhere between ridiculous and desperate.

“I haven’t seen you for a while,” Melissa said, her tone warm but measured. “Is the arm giving you trouble?”

“No, it’s all good.” Starsky shifted in his seat. “I know this is out of the blue, but I wanted to talk to you.”

“Alright,” she said, twirling her thumbs. “I must admit, I thought I’d never see you again. Especially not after the supermarket.”

“I can’t lie, I didn’t either,” Starsky said.

She looked at him, puzzled. “So what are you doing here?”

“I know this is odd,” Starsky started, not quite sure how to say what he wanted to say. He decided the best way was to come out with it. ”I’ve been having dreams,” he said. “For a while now. You’re in them.”

“Me?” Melissa’s eyebrows went up. “Don’t tell my new boyfriend. Jack’s a six-foot-four fireman. He wouldn’t appreciate knowing an ex-patient of mine is dreaming about me.” She smiled.

“Are you happy?” Starsky asked.

He wanted to know, not simply because he was being kind, but because if Melissa was happy, maybe that meant something.

“I am,” Melissa answered. “But that’s not why you’re here, is it?”

“No,” he admitted. “In the dreams, we’re living a life together, except I’m not really there with you; it’s more like I’m just watching.”

“Go on,” she said, leaning forward.

“You’re always trying to tell me something. Sometimes, you’re pointing down a corridor, or pushing me in the wheelchair toward something I can’t quite reach. You never get to say it. I always wake up before you do.” He gripped the coffee cup. “I know this is a long shot, but I keep wondering if there was something you wanted to say to me back then. Something you never got to.”

Melissa was quiet for a moment, her head tilted slightly. The cafeteria was busy, with people picking up trays or hurrying to eat soup or a sandwich and drink coffee between shifts.

“For a while,” she said carefully, “I wanted you to ask me out.”

“I almost did,” Starsky said.

“But you didn’t,” she repeated. “And you’re here today to ask me why you didn’t?”

“No. That’s not why I’m here,” Starsky said. “But I do feel like there was something else unsaid.” He ran a hand down his face. “ Hell, I’m not entirely sure why I’m here.”

Melissa’s brow wrinkled, then slackened, her face softening.

She leaned forward slightly. “Can I tell you something? Something I noticed, back when you were still my patient?”

He nodded.

“Every time your partner came to pick you up, every single time, your eyes found him the moment he walked in.” She paused. “And when he left, your eyes followed him out. Like you were keeping track of him without meaning to.” She sat back. “At first, I told myself it was just how partners were, but after a while, I couldn’t keep telling myself that.”

Starsky said nothing for a moment. “I need him,” he said finally. “Always have.” He looked her in the eyes. “I love him, actually.”

He searched her face, expecting shock and disapproval. He found neither.

“I suspected,” she said. “Your face couldn’t hide it, even when you tried.”

Starsky knew she spoke the truth. He just didn’t know what she had to do with any of it.

“Melissa, I shouldn’t have come. This has nothing to do with you. You can’t tell me about my own dreams.”

He started to rise. She grasped his hand to stop him.

“Maybe not,” she said. But I know one thing.” She folded her hands around his. “I know that the future is uncertain. For everybody. That part we can’t control. But the path to it?” She met his eyes. “It might be bumpy sometimes, but it eventually takes you where you belong. I truly believe that.”

“Like fate?” he asked.

“Maybe. Some people believe in that,” she said. “I prefer to believe in the truth.”

She paused, taking a breath, then continued.

“I realized I was lying to myself that day in the supermarket. I thought I could kiss you and make you see what you were missing. Pretty stupid, huh?”

“No,” Starsky said. “Sometimes you have to take a chance.”

Melissa shrugged, smiling. “If I’m honest, I think you saved us both a lot of headaches by not asking me out, because your heart was already somewhere else. You just couldn’t see it yet.”

“It took me a while to look in the right direction,” Starsky admitted.

Melissa smiled, like someone who had found her own path and wished him well on his. “Go find what you’re looking for,” she said. “You already know the way.”

He rose to his feet and nodded at her with a look that conveyed his gratitude that she had come into his life, even briefly.

“I hope you’re happy,” Starsky said. “You’re a hell of a lady.”

Melissa grinned at him. “Thank you,” she said. “Say hello to Hutch for me.”

He turned and left, pushing open the clinic doors with resolve, leaving that chapter of his life behind, whatever it was, and refusing to look back.

*****

He smelled it before he had his key out of the lock. Something warm, heavy with herbs. He pushed open the door and found Hutch in the kitchen, crouched in front of the oven, easing a casserole dish out with a folded dish towel around each handle.

Starsky leaned in the doorway and watched him for a moment without announcing himself, relieved to see Hutch back in his kitchen.

“Smells good,” Starsky said, his tone turning serious. “I wasn’t expecting to find you here.”

Hutch didn’t answer, his back to Starsky.

“But I’m glad you’re here. You don’t know how much,” Starsky said.

Hutch sighed and turned around. He gestured to the casserole. “I was worried you weren’t eating. I was planning to have this done and be gone before you got back.”

Starsky’s face dropped. “I know you’re still mad. You have every right to be. I wish I could go outside and come back in again, and we could start over.”

Hutch crossed his arms and leaned against the counter.

“That’s not possible. We can’t change the past,” Hutch said. “You keep telling me there is no one else, but something is holding you back. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong,” Starsky said.

“Saying it doesn’t make it true,” Hutch said. “I need a little proof, buddy.”

“I saw Melissa.”

Hutch straightened. His expression shifted from confusion to sadness. He turned back to the counter, and he set down the dish towel, very carefully, as though he was giving his hands something to do. “And?”

Starsky crossed the kitchen and put his arms around Hutch’s back, his chin resting on his shoulder.

“I don’t think I’ll have those dreams anymore,” Starsky whispered. “And there’s no part of that kiss I wouldn’t take back, except for not telling you the second it happened.”

Hutch turned in Starsky’s arms to face him. He didn’t pull away; he simply searched Starsky’s eyes, like a man who had been patient for a long time.

“How can you be so sure?” Hutch asked.

“Because I know now that it was never about her in the first place. I think I was trying to work something out, and the dreams were how I did it.” He tightened his hold. “But I understand now. They were trying to help me see I was on the right path. Even though the rest of the world, including my mother, wouldn’t agree. Melissa was just a character in my dreams because she might have been a woman in my life. A path I had chosen a hundred times before. A safe path, but the wrong one.”

Starsky let his words breathe. He searched Hutch’s face for a glimpse of understanding.

“It was always about you, Hutch. About us. About the fact that this…” he secured his arms around him, “was inevitable.”

Hutch looked at him for a long moment.

“You believe me, don’t you?” Starsky asked, probing Hutch’s gaze.

“I want to,” Hutch’s voice was weak and unsure. “I’ve never been one to play the what-if game. You know that.”

“You think I think this is a game?” Starsky couldn’t have felt more panicked.

“I think you’re the one who likes to pretend he knows what he wants, but has been second-guessing his every decision this whole time.”

Hutch’s face was flushed. He picked up the casserole and moved it to the kitchen table.

“It’s hot,” he said, walking away. “Go ahead and eat when you’re hungry.”

Hutch crossed the floor to the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

Silence filled the room. Starsky inhaled the aroma of the casserole and stared at the dish. He knew what he wanted, and it wasn’t a life of eating alone.

It wasn’t a life without Hutch.

He slowly walked to the bedroom and turned the knob. Hutch was standing at the window, his hands in his pockets. He glanced at the floor, not looking up, but acknowledging Starsky’s presence.

“Hutch, listen to me. I’m not second-guessing us. I just never had to decide something that impacted anyone else but me before. I think my brain was telling me that someone I love very much was going to have more pressure than he deserved.”

Hutch turned, frown lines etched in his forehead.

“I’m a grown man, Starsky. I can make my own decisions. Even if your mother hates me, or if we’re forced out of our jobs, or the sun doesn’t rise tomorrow. I love you and will take every minute I can get because all the rest is just noise.”

He inhaled like he had more to say.

“That day, when you came home and saw me getting out of the shower,” Hutch continued. “I knew at that moment I wanted to take a chance. To not turn away, or make a joke, or pretend like I wasn’t glad you had come home when you did.” He took a steadying breath. “That may have been the day when we both realized what we wanted.” He exhaled. “But today is the day we make a choice.”

Hutch stood straight, his expression hopeful, yet firm. “I choose you, Starsky. But if you don’t feel the same, I don’t know if we should pretend you do.”

Starsky couldn’t stand to hear another word of doubt from Hutch. Doubt that he himself put into Hutch’s mind.

He took two strides towards him, then grasped Hutch’s head in his hands and drew his face near, his eyes circling Hutch’s mouth.

He pressed his lips on his.

“No games. No doubts,” Starsky said breathlessly.

Hutch started to pull away, but Starsky gripped him tighter and wouldn’t let go.

“Listen to me,” his voice was pleading. “Please, Hutch. I need you to hear me.”

Hutch stopped resisting, his hands hovered over Starsky’s shoulders until they rested there, and he held his gaze.

“I’m listening,” Hutch said, his voice calmer.

Starsky swallowed the lump in his throat, his eyes darting back and forth between Hutch’s as he spoke.

“All of my past relationships failed. At the time, I thought I was heartbroken. Incapable of loving again. Too many changes that I had to deal with, but you know what?”

Starsky didn’t wait for an answer.

“I didn’t fall apart. Not once. And it’s not just because you were there, supporting me, being a good friend, which you were,” he paused, reining in his scattered thoughts. “It was more than that. It was because I was already complete, because you were in my life.”

He took a beat to catch his breath before he finished. “I didn’t fall to pieces, Hutch, because I wasn’t broken. I was already whole.”

Hutch’s face softened, his blue eyes holding Starsky’s stare. He pulled Starsky to him, arms wrapping around him, his face against Starsky’s neck.

“Tell me you understand,” Starsky’s voice was hushed. “Tell me you believe me.”

“I do,” Hutch whispered, then even softer. “I think I always did. I was just waiting for you to be as sure as I am.”

“No one else, Hutch.”

Starsky took Hutch’s hand and led him to the bedroom. They made love, slowly undressing each other, committing to each other, not needing the world’s consent, their love enough to know that it was right.

In the kitchen, the casserole slowly went cold, and neither of them moved for a very long time.

Chapter 13

~~~~~~~~Door #1~~~~~~~~~

It was another regular Tuesday.

Starsky had expected Hutch to ask about his breakup with Melissa, but Hutch hadn’t said a word. He did what he always did: show up, stay by his side, and wait until something more was required.

Starsky was relieved at that. How could he tell Hutch why he broke it off with her?

“You see, Hutch, I was having dreams. About you. Melissa wasn’t quite on board with that. So it’s over. You want to get lunch?”

It was Starsky’s turn to drive. He turned the wheel and pulled into traffic.

They drove in silence for a while. Starsky thought he should simply say nothing about his dreams. Let it go. An easy choice.

He looked at Hutch and realized the truth. Easy wasn’t going to work anymore, because if something was worth choosing, it was not worth losing.

He found a parking space on a side street, half a block from Huggy’s. It was dark, the nearest streetlamp twenty yards away.

He cut the engine.

“What are you doing?” Hutch said. “I thought we were going into Huggy’s for dinner. Martin Cooper is still out there, and Huggy might know something about that stolen cab that was reported yesterday.”

“Would Cooper be so stupid as to steal a cab?” Starsky asked.

“He was stupid enough to almost get caught in an alley,” Hutch said. “He was stupid enough to shoot a cop.”

Starsky’s mind snapped to the day Hutch got shot on a street not unlike this one, and the phone ringing in New York, and the long, excruciating trip to the hospital, and the terror that had moved through him that night. The terror was mixed in with something even more real.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “That’s true,” Starsky said, not really paying attention. “Maybe we’re the stupid ones, ever think of that?”

“Because we think we can still chase down twenty-two-year-olds?” Hutch asked. “I’m beginning to think that maybe we need a career change.”

Starsky nodded in agreement. “I’ve thought about that too, sometimes,” he said.

Hutch looked at Starsky. “We should talk to Dobey,” he said.

“Definitely. Tomorrow,” Starsky agreed. “Right now, we should talk about some other things.”

He left his hands on the wheel and looked straight ahead at the dark street, and thought about the dreams. The outline of Hutch coming out of the shower. His long, muscular body wrapped in his arms. His mouth, inviting and supple, yet so strong and in command.

He thought about Melissa’s words, I hope you find a way to get it right.

“Earth to Starsky,” Hutch said, waving a hand in front of Starsky’s face. “In case you were wondering, I like it.”

“Like what?” Starsky looked at Hutch, coming back to the present.

“The fact that you shaved off the mustache,” Hutch said. “It looks more like you.”

Starsky fingered his smooth skin, then reached out and stroked Hutch’s upper lip. Hutch didn’t flinch or pull away, as if he enjoyed the feel of Starsky’s finger on his lip.

“I figured it was about time we were on the same page, you know, going in the same direction,” Starsky said.

He rested his hand on Hutch’s shoulder.

“You haven’t asked about Melissa,” he said.

“I figured you would talk when the time was right,” Hutch replied with a shrug.

“I think the time is now,” Starsky said. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to say. I’ve been working up to it for a while.”

Hutch tilted his head slightly. “You can tell me anything, Starsk.”

Starsky nodded and cleared his throat.

“You see, every woman I’ve been with,” Starsky began, “there’s been something missing. I kept thinking it was them. That they couldn’t give me what I was asking for.” He paused. “Except, it wasn’t them. It was me. What I was asking for wasn’t fair to them.”

“What was that?” Hutch asked.

“Not just to accept our partnership,” Starsky said. “But to be second, after you.”

Hutch looked at him, nodding, his eyes clear, as if he knew.

Starsky exhaled and faced forward. He stared at the steering wheel, not really seeing it.

“And then you got shot,” Starsky added. “And I was on a plane at thirty thousand feet thinking about nothing except getting to that hospital. Not Melissa, not the case, not anything. Just you.” He turned and searched Hutch’s face for a signal of understanding. “And I knew exactly what that meant, but was too afraid to admit it.”

“So, what did it mean?” Hutch’s eyes were searching Starsky’s, but they seemed to already know the answer.

“That there was no unfinished business with Melissa,” Starsky said. “There was only unfinished business with you.”

The street outside was quiet. Somewhere distant, a siren moved through the city and faded.

“Hutch.” Starsky looked at him directly. “I’m in love with you. Not the way partners love each other, not the way friends do. I love you in a way I didn’t think I was capable of.” He smiled at Hutch and saw relief in his eyes. “That’s what it means.”

Hutch didn’t move, then the corner of his mouth lifted.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Starsky asked, leaning forward until their foreheads nearly touched.

“That dinner can wait?” Hutch asked, his voice hushed.

“Dinner can definitely wait,” Starsky said.

And then Hutch’s lips were on Starsky’s, and the kiss was nothing like the dreams; it was better. Starsky felt the last of the distance between what was real and what were dreams collapse all at once.

When they broke apart, Hutch rested his forehead against Starsky’s.

“I love you,” Hutch said. “I’ve loved you for a long time, if I’m honest. I always felt like something was missing, like a piece of a puzzle, and I was just waiting for you so I could find it.”

“I love you,” Starsky said softly. “I don’t know for how long or at what point in time. It could have been when I saw you in the hospital, or when you stayed with me after Gunther, or when you made me dinner, or any random Tuesday in between.”

“Let’s go to your place,” Hutch said with a grin. “A dark alley isn’t the best place to talk, or do the things I want to do next,” he chuckled. “We can pick this up–”

Hutch’s next words were cut short.

The cab came out of nowhere.

It rounded the corner fast, no headlights, the engine gunning, and hit the driver’s side. Metal tore and glass shattered, and the world tilted sideways all at once.

Starsky’s head struck the steering wheel, and his vision blurred.

He heard a car door slam, then Hutch’s voice. “Hold it! Police!” Footsteps, fast, then sirens and radios crackling. Hutch’s voice again, breathless and commanding, “Cuff him. Don’t let him move.”

Then Hutch was back, right beside him.

“Starsky.” Hutch’s hand on his face, his voice stripped of everything except worry. “Starsky, can you hear me?”

Starsky tried to nod. He felt the blood moving down his forehead, and he couldn’t fight the dizziness.

“It was Cooper. We got him,” Hutch said. “He is that stupid.”

Starsky found his voice from somewhere. “Told you,” he managed.

He could feel Hutch’s hand still on his cheek. Hutch’s face, close and real, the streetlamp throwing light across his features, the chaos going on around them.

“Am I dreaming?” Starsky asked.

Hutch shook his head.

“Good.” Starsky closed his eyes. “I don’t want this to be a dream.”

And then the world went black.

~~~~~~~~Door#2~~~~~~~~

“Starsky.”

The voice hovered over him, insistent and worried.

“Starsky. Come on. Wake up.”

Starsky surfaced slowly, like you do when sleep is deep, and your body isn’t finished with it yet. The darkness melted away, and he saw Hutch lying in bed next to him.

“Hutch?” His voice was like gravel. “Where am I?”

“You’re at home,” Hutch said. “It’s nighttime. I’m supposed to wake you every few hours in case of a concussion. Doctor’s orders, remember?”

Starsky blinked. He raised a hand to his forehead and found a bandage.

“You okay?” Hutch asked, stroking Starsky’s hair. “Are you feeling dizzy?”

“Not even a little,” Starsky said. “I felt dizzier sitting in the front of Earl’s cab than I feel now,” Starsky said. “But I’ve had about enough doctors and all members of the medical community for the foreseeable future.”

“Well, if you hadn’t introduced your hard head to the steering wheel when Cooper sideswiped the car yesterday,” Hutch said, “you wouldn’t be in this mess.” He raised himself on his elbow. “I’m putting you in a helmet from now on. Full body gear. Non-negotiable.”

Hutch’s voice wasn’t angry. It was patient, warm, and faintly amused. It was, Starsky thought, the best sound he knew.

“Cooper really was stupid enough to steal a cab?” Starsky asked.

“Drove it off the lot. Somehow kept ahead of the units by cutting through the alleys. There was a door to the back of a laundry mat behind a dumpster in that alley, where we chased him down. We must have been too distracted that day and missed it.” Hutch shook his head. “He resurfaced and must have spotted your car just as we were heading into Huggy’s.”

Starsky pulled Hutch in for a kiss. “Good thing I had my hands to myself at that particular moment.”

“It was dark,” Hutch said with a small smile. “And Cooper was too focused on not getting caught to notice much else. He decided to resolve several problems at once. His lawyer is already fishing for a plea. The judge, apparently, is not feeling generous.”

“Good,” Starsky said. “You know, this whole case with Cooper? It makes me realize that I can’t keep up anymore. It’s time I faced that. I never should have lost him in that alley.”

“We,” Hutch said. “We lost him.”

“The truth is, I don’t think I could handle seeing you get hurt again,” Starsky murmured.

“It’s time to talk to Dobey, isn’t it?” Hutch asked. “See what’s next for us?”

“As long as we’re still together,” Starsky perked up. “Just maybe not on the streets anymore.”

“I’m open to what comes next,” Hutch agreed, his face certain. “Oh,” he reached toward the nightstand. “I almost forgot. This came for you. From New York.”

Starsky took the envelope. The return address read: Rebecca Starsky.

He turned it over in his hands, but didn’t open it.

“You read it,” he told Hutch, holding it out. “I can’t.”

Hutch took it without comment, opened it, and read to himself first, his lips moving slightly as Starsky watched for news on his face.

A smile appeared. Slow at first, then beaming.

“Well?” Starsky asked.

Hutch’s eyes darted to Starsky and back to the letter. He cleared his throat and read aloud.

Dear David. I want to take back what I said, if you’ll let me. If something is worthwhile, like love, don’t let anyone tell you it isn’t real. Including me. You will always be my son, and I will always be your mother. Whatever choices you make, I know they are the right ones.

Tell Ken I hope he comes to visit with you next time.

Love, Mom.

Hutch lowered the letter. Starsky said nothing for a moment. He felt an unexpected lightness, as though another piece of his life had clicked into place.

“There’s more,” Hutch said, amused.

Starsky nodded at him to proceed.

“P.S. Nick is back. He lost his job, his girlfriend, and all his money in Atlantic City. I told him about you and Ken. I hope you don’t mind, but I wanted him to know what it means to have something real.”

Starsky let out a breath that turned into a laugh before he could stop it. Hutch was already smiling.

“Your mother,” Hutch said, “is something else.”

“She really is,” Starsky said. “Maybe we can have her and your parents over sometime,” he looked up at Hutch and felt his eyes dampen. “Like a family.”

“I’d like that,” Hutch said.

Starsky took the letter back and folded it carefully along its original creases and set it on the nightstand. He looked over at Hutch.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” Hutch answered.

“Do you think if I hadn’t seen you come out of the shower that day?” he stopped, then started again, “Do you think we’d still be here, together like this?”

Hutch considered that for a moment, his eyes narrowed in thought.

“We were both working things out. I was dating Jacqui, and I wasn’t being honest with her, even before then.”

“But, our being together—is it because of a random thing?”

“Yes, it is,” Hutch replied.

Starsky steadied himself up on an elbow, eyebrows raised. “You make it sound like we’re an accident.”

“Far from it, Starsk. A chance encounter can just be how things start,” his smile was wide. “But a choice? That’s where things really begin.”

“And I choose you, Hutch,” Starsky said, laying down, reassured. “No one else.”

Starsky pressed a hand to his head, a dizzy feeling overtaking him.

“You ok?” Hutch asked, moving closer to his side.

“I’m fine,” Starsky said.

The dizziness came and went in a breath, as if it had never existed. Like white noise in the background that had finally stopped.

“Come here,” Starsky said.

Hutch looked like he was pretending to deliberate about something he had already decided. Then he moved closer, and Starsky pulled him close, and Hutch anchored himself against him, like it was the only place either of them had ever really been headed.

Starsky rested his chin against Hutch’s shoulder. He breathed in and smelled sandalwood shampoo in Hutch’s hair, and underneath it was Hutch, real and warm, and it undid him all over again.

“The dreams have stopped,” Starsky said softly.

Hutch didn’t ask him to elaborate. He simply rested his hand on Starsky’s chest, letting Starsky feel the proof of him, and was quiet.

“Good,” Hutch smiled, his eyes soft, like he didn’t need convincing anymore. “That’s very good.”

They made love like it was the first time.

Their clothes practically disappeared in a whirlwind, removed without thinking, until they were on the bed, skin to skin, lips to lips, hands roaming, erections growing.

Starsky rolled Hutch onto him with a sudden intensity. He craved the palpable weight of Hutch’s body pressing down on him, grounding him in an undeniable reality.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Starsky heard the pleas of his own voice. “Don’t disappear from my bed ever again.”

Hutch smiled and rolled Starsky on top, raising his legs and locking them around Starsky’s waist.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Hutch whispered. He lifted Starsky above him, and they rocked together. He reached down and stroked Starsky, and Starsky felt a sense of urgency, as if the very seconds were counting down, each tick echoing the significance of where they were.

A tube appeared in Hutch’s hand, and Starsky blinked and wondered if he was too dizzy to have noticed how or when.

“I want you to make love to me,” Hutch said.

Starsky’s heart skipped a beat, or was that time itself? Like a dream, but better. No haze, no confusion, no blur.

Starsky nodded; no words were necessary to answer Hutch’s precious request. He slipped easily into him, slowly at first, but no resistance at all.

“Did the heavens just open up?” Starsky breathed out the words into Hutch’s ears.

Starsky swore he heard Hutch laugh, then moan, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead, his legs clasped around Starsky as Starsky went inside him. He felt like he didn’t need to breathe air anymore because this was all he would ever need.

Then Hutch shouted Starsky’s name, and Starsky felt the warm, wet evidence of his love on his stomach, and that undid Starsky even more. He came inside Hutch, pumping again and again until he had completely spilled every drop into him.

They fell next to each other, their heavy breaths slowly fading into muffled whispers.

He pulled Hutch closer. Hutch let himself be pulled. They lay in each other’s arms, holding each other in the dark.

Starsky closed his eyes. He thought about his mother’s handwriting on a folded piece of paper, and the words Hutch’s parents had said the day their love stopped being a secret. He thought about Earl, and the Tuesday afternoon stories, and a life well lived that should have gone on much longer than it had. His mind went to Melissa, a woman on the periphery of his life, but never fully entering it, because it was never meant to be. He thought about a shower, and a towel on a bedroom floor, and how kissing Hutch in that moment had felt, that first time, like another life entirely.

It wasn’t another life. It was his.

The random moments. The restless dreams. All of it, leading here.

Time seemed to stand still around him. Hutch’s breathing slowed, and Starsky stayed exactly where he was, listening to it, in no hurry to be anywhere else for the rest of his life.

The world seems empty
A lonely void
Until I hear your voice
And taste your lips
And for the first time
I feel whole
Whether it’s fate
Or of my own will
By chance or by choice
I will always find the path
Into your arms.