Forty Squares from the Elevator to the Wall

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I love you so much, but I know what you want for your life and it isn’t me, not that way. No matter how much I love you, I can’t give you what she could. You deserve that house full of kids, sticky fingers and little league, the whole thing. God, how many years have I heard you talk about it? I wish it’d been me.

 

First published in the zine Don’t Give Up On Us, Baby, published and edited by Lucy and Elaine in May, 2001.

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Forty squares from the elevator to the wall. Sixty-three squares from Terry’s door to the couch. He counted the tile squares as he listened to the footsteps. Blue Adidas and fray-bottomed jeans came into his line of vision before the strong hand squeezed his shoulder and ruffled through his hair, then sat down beside him. Starsky’s pacing abated for the moment, but never for very long.

“Where’d you park my car?” Starsky asked.

“In lot B, third row on the left,” Hutch announced. He straightened and started to fish the keys out of his pocket.

Starsky’s hand stilled his. “I want who did this…” Starsky’s voice sounded loud and unnatural.

“We’ll get them,” Hutch’s reply was softer but solid. He rested his hand on Starsky’s thigh, offering the touch as a constant, an anchor.

“I need to stay here,” Starsky admitted, his pain a tangible thing that tore at Hutch’s heart.

“I know, I’m here with you, buddy. Want some coffee or something?” Hutch asked, starting to rise.

“No.” Starsky leaned toward Hutch, his strong hand snaking out and reaching to grasp Hutch’s tightly. “I don’t want you to stay here.”

“What?”

“The longer we don’t do anything, the colder the trail will get. I can’t think… I wouldn’t be any good out there.” Starsky’s voice broke. He cleared his throat and started again. “You going out there looking is as good as me doing it, better right now. I need you doing that more than I need you sitting here with me.”

“Starsky…”

“I know what you’re going to say…and yeah I need your strength here, but Hutch, I need you out there, too. I need to do something but I can’t. I need you to do it for me.” Starsky turned to face him, his pain so vivid in the eyes he fixed on Hutch. “You’re the only one I trust enough to be out there so I can be here and still stay sane. Otherwise I’ll feel like nothing’s being done and it’ll make me crazy. Help me, Hutch. It’s the only way I can handle this.”

Hutch reached out and drew Starsky into his arms, the smaller man yielding to the touch easily as he’d done so many times over the years. Starsky rested his head against Hutch’s chest and seemed to calm a bit. Hutch hugged him tighter, wishing his arms could block out the pain and uncertainty of the present. “Are you sure?” Hutch questioned softly.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Hutch tightened his grip briefly before pulling back and standing with a shuddering breath. He let his fingers draw through Starsky’s curls, then dug the keys out of his pocket, completing the motion this time. “Have dispatch radio me if you need anything. I’ll get right back here.”

Starsky nodded silently. Hutch walked down the hall to the elevator, catching a glimpse of Starsky starting to resume his pacing pattern as the elevator doors closed.

Hutch spent the rest of the night going over the reports of the shooting. He catalogued the forensic data and generally pissed off everyone he came in contact with in his desperate push to have some sort of answer for Starsky when he returned to the hospital. The more information he gleaned, the more there was this insistent itch in the back of his brain that this was not a random act and the  perpetrator was someone they knew.

Why Terry? His mind struggled with that question over and over. She was truly the most innocent individual he’d ever met. Her gentle spirit and patience in working with the developmentally disabled made her a giant in Hutch’s eyes. He’d actually been the one to meet Terry first. He’d seen her and the kids at the park when he jogged and had made general conversation during his stretches one day. He liked her. Liked her looks, her obvious respect for humanity in whatever form it took, not just what society considered adequate. There was an understanding between them, not a chemistry. He wanted to introduce her to Starsky. He felt an almost obsessive desire to get them together. I guess I wanted him to have someone who would really love him and take care of him if anything ever happened to me, he remembered. He thought back to the look on her face the day he’d told her he wanted her to meet his friend. She had looked at him with those beautiful clear, bright eyes of hers and asked why. When Hutch stammered a second, then sheepishly admitted his reason, she’d smiled and nodded her understanding. The rest is history. Seeing them together was a private source of joy to Hutch. That joy had currently been snatched away and the taste of the horror of it was a bitter thing on his tongue.

He jumped as the phone ringing jolted him out of his reverie. “Hutchinson.”

“I’ve got a partial thumb print that should be enough to send out,” replied the head of Forensics. “When I get a make on it, I’ll call you.”

“Thanks, I appreciate you giving this top priority. I know you’re up to your ass in stuff like we all are. Starsky will be grateful too.”

“Hey, it’s family, right? What else is there we can do for one another?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Hutch replaced the receiver and stretched. He pulled out his pocket watch and groaned at the time. 5:15. He stood and plodded to the locker room to take a shower and change into the clean just-in-case shirt he kept there before heading back to the hospital.

Hutch watched the sunrise as he drove to the hospital. Sticking to the surface streets to avoid the freeway gridlock, he made good time. The sky was clear and blue. How can it be such a beautiful day with what happened last night? Damn, it doesn’t seem fair.

He walked into the lobby area at the end of the bank of rooms set aside for the Neurology/Neurosurgery service and saw Starsky sitting on the couch idly turning the pages of a magazine. The sun was up, he knew it, he’d just come from outside, but it wasn’t until he saw Starsky stand and fix those deep blue eyes on him that he felt the warmth. Then he saw the shadows under those eyes and he reached out to touch Starsky’s arm. “How’s Terry?” he asked with his mouth while his heart questioned, how are you?

“We’ll know soon, the doctor will be here any minute. How are you doing?”

Hutch stood, giving all he had in the way of news. What had seemed like a break­through at the time now seemed like a pitiful offering… a partial thumbprint. I’m sorry, babe. It was the best I could do.

Hutch listened with Starsky to the somber words spoken by the gentle doctor, a cold fist of dread seizing him. He had nodded with a smile of encouragement as Starsky walked bravely into Terry’s room, then Hutch walked purposefully to the doctor to ask his own questions. He needed answers before Starsky came out of that room. Her prognosis left him pole-axed

“Thank you for your candor, Doctor. Are you going to wait for David?”

“Yes,” she answered softly. “My office is on this floor, at the end of the hall. I told Terry to please send him there.”

“I’ll… ah… I’ll be in the chapel. I’ll meet him back here or he can come downstairs to get me there. If you’ll tell him that, please, after you speak with him about Terry.”

She nodded her understanding and stepped away, giving him a small bow as Hutch passed her.

Hutch stepped into the quiet darkness of the hospital’s chapel and sat down in one of the pews toward the back. He kept seeing Terry’s face as she lay on the ambulance stretcher in the convenience store. He had stepped behind Starsky and clutched his shoulder as he stooped down next to her. It was as if he could feel the leather beneath his fingers even now. “With all my heart, Starsk, I wish it had been me. I could go, knowing I’d be leaving you with Terry, but if it happens the other way around, I don’t know if I can do the same job. Am I going to be enough to get you through it?” I love you so much, but I know what you want for your life and it isn’t me, not that way. No matter how much I love you, I can’t give you what she could. You deserve that house full of kids, sticky fingers and little league, the whole thing. God, how many years have I heard you talk about it? I wish it’d been me.

Hutch lowered his head to rest on his forearms where they lay on the back of the pew in front of him and let the tears fall, knowing he’d need to dry them shortly and let Starsky be the one to shed them if he needed to. “There’ll be plenty of time to cry together, babe,” Hutch whispered

He heard the soft rustle of sneakered footfalls on the carpet and felt the warmth of Starsky’s body slide in close to his. Hutch leaned back to sit up straight as Starsky launched himself into his aims. Hutch held on tightly. Muffled sobs and creaking leather were the only sounds in the quiet chapel as Hutch held his friend and let him cry. He felt the smaller man’s weight gradually re-gather and pull out of his arms after a time. He let him go with a reluctance that confused Hutch, keeping one hand on a shoulder, not willing to completely break contact. He searched Starsky’s face after the tears had been scrubbed away by a long fingered hand.

“You gonna be okay?” Hutch asked, his hand going from the shoulder where it rested to the side of Starsky’s face.

“Yeah, let’s go to work.” Starsky stood and walked with determination out of the chapel, Hutch following closely at his heels.

The radio squawked to life as they drove, Hutch grabbing for the handpiece to answer. Hearing the request from Central Dispatch for them to detour to Hutch’s apartment to meet with Huggy spawned a concerned exchange of glances as Hutch slapped the red light on the roof and Starsky did a tire screaming U-turn to change direction.

They listened with barely concealed frustration to Huggy’s tale of who had assaulted him. At the mention of George Prudholm’s name, Hutch felt his stomach sink sickeningly. Starsky blasted out of the apartment, knocking Hutch into the wall by the front door in his rage driven dash to the car. Hutch nodded toward the key over the door. “Let yourself out, Hug. Take care, and thanks,” Hutch fired off as he ran to jump into the Torino as Starsky was already pulling away from the curb.

The air around them as they stood in Dobey’s office fairly crackled. Hutch found himself clenching his teeth so hard his jaw ached as he listened to Starsky be given the word that Prudholm had simply walked away from his incarceration. Hutch waited, dreading the explosion that he knew was inevitable. When it came and Starsky was heading out the door he hovered closer, reaching out his hand to touch. Offering the only thing he had to give. Himself and the touch that Starsky needed. He gave Dobey a compassionate look as he followed his partner out the door, hoping the Captain understood he’d try and keep Starsky under control.

They drove for a few blocks, Hutch letting Starsky curse and rant and cry as he drove, then when the man pulled over to the side of the street he wrapped him in his arms and let him cry in earnest, crying with him.

There was a pay phone nearby and Starsky composed himself and went to phone Terry at the hospital, explaining to Hutch he needed to hear her voice. Hutch waited in the car and saw Starsky approaching in the side view mirror, his expression a mixture of fear and delight.

“She wants me to come pick her up and take her home. She’s leaving the hospital. I want to stop and pick up some flowers on the way. You don’t mind coming do you? You can kinda hold her steady while we drive home. You know, keep her from rocking around much in the car?”

“You bet. There’s a Conroy’s Flowers a couple of blocks up, you can get what you want there. Want me to call us out of service?”

“No,” Starsky replied with a hard look before he sighed and relented. “Yeah, tell them we’ll be 10-7 for an hour or so.” Starsky started the car and pulled out into traffic with a pat to the hand Hutch had resting on his shoulder. “Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do…”

“Forget it. What are friends for, huh?” Hutch interrupted with a squeeze of his hand.

Hutch sat in the car as it was parked in the patient pick-up area, waiting for Starsky and Terry to come down. He drummed his fingers on the back of the seat, going over and over in his head every aspect of this case. Every thought, the thought cascade of how he would keep Starsky from losing it when Terry died, spun around every fact. Out of the corner of his eye he saw them approach the car, Terry sitting in a wheelchair being pushed by the hospital personnel and Starsky walking at her side, carrying a small suitcase and the bouquet of flowers he’d bought on the way.

Hutch opened the door and got out of the car, assisting Terry out of the chair and into the seat, sliding in after her. He put his arm around her, nesting her against his chest as Starsky requested and she settled there easily.

“Tell me about the man who shot me,” Terry requested calmly.

Hutch saw Starsky bristle. From where Hutch’s arm rested on the back of the seat he let his fingers reach to Starsky’s neck and squeeze his assurance. Keeping his voice soft and soothing for Starsky as much as Terry, he began to tell the story.

“Three years ago Starsky busted a drug dealer and sent him to prison. He died there, knifed in a prison fight, and George Prudholm blamed Starsky for the death of his son.”

“Prudholm, you’ve told me about him before,” Terry remembered.

“I put him away… killed two cops trying to get at me. We put him away, they let him loose…” Starsky’s voice rang bitter.

“I really appreciate your super cautious driving, but it’s a constant reminder of my situation, okay?” Terry snapped.

“This is a compromise speed.”

“What did he call that?” Terry asked, turning to Hutch.

“He called it a compromise speed,” Hutch repeated laughing.

They drove the rest of the way to Terry’s apartment in the banter and quibble that was normal for the three of them and Starsky gave the car enough gas to actually match the flow of traffic.

When they arrived, Starsky parked and assisted Terry out of the car and up to the apartment while Hutch carried the items from the hospital. Once in the apartment Hutch sat the suitcase on the floor, leaned over and kissed Terry on the cheek. “See you later, sweetie.” He waved goodbye to Starsky with a wink and softly closed the door.

Hutch had barely settled himself in the car and was preparing to pull out of the parking garage when he saw Starsky stepping out of the elevator. Hutch stopped and leaned over to the passenger side to ask what his partner wanted when Starsky kept walking to the driver’s side.

“Move over, she threw me out.”

“What?”

“I think she wanted a little time to be alone. The dinner and Monopoly is still on for tonight. She wants me to meet her back here about 4:30.”

Hutch moved to the passenger side without comment. He watched as Starsky’s expression showed a determination to ignore everything the doctors had told them and to believe everything would be okay on the basis of his interminable will.

“Know something? I think they’re wrong.”

“Who?” Hutch asked, though he knew the answer and felt his heart breaking watching Starsky’s unfounded optimism.

“The doctors. They’ve been wrong before, happens all the time. I once read where this guy was told he would live for three months…”

Hutch’s hand reached over to squeeze Starsky’s arm. He couldn’t speak past the lump in his throat and had no idea what words to offer if he could. So he just kept his hand on Starsky’s arm, willing his love to pass through his fingers to his partner.

When the radio squawked and sent them to meet a man named Freddie, Hutch felt immensely grateful for the diversion. Anything to make any part of the day seem normal.

They met with Freddie. He usually gave reliable information according to the kind of month he had at the track. This must not have been a good month for him, and it was only the 9th.

After paying for their information, they drove in silence to the apartment building on Green Street, each immersed in the job, each grateful to escape there for different reasons.

The tingle he got when things weren’t quite right started to raise the hairs on Hutch’s neck as they rounded the landing to climb the last flight of stairs. By the time the two men stood outside of the door numbered 32, Hutch’s stomach had joined the act, prompting him to act first and rap on the door.

“Prudholm, police officers,” Hutch yelled at the closed door.

He and Starsky exchanged glances as Starsky reached carefully around and tried the doorknob. Warning bells were almost audible in the hallway as it turned easily and opened a few inches.  Nobody leaves the door unlocked in this neighborhood. “I don’t like it,” Hutch whispered.

Starsky turned his back to protect his face and head and crouched down hugging the wall. Hutch gave the door a nudge with his foot, forcing it open a bit further and flung his arm up to deflect the splintered wood flying out from the door as a shotgun discharge shattered the quiet of the hallway and blasted a huge hole in the door.

They walked in slowly, no need for caution now; it was obvious that the man they sought wouldn’t be there. Starsky rounded the room first with Hutch close behind. Hutch went to check out the window, though he didn’t expect to find anyone close by. Looking around for whatever clues they could find, the ringing of the phone startled, then angered Hutch. Starsky shared the sentiment from the look on his face as he snatched up the phone.

Hutch moved toward Starsky where he stood gripping the phone, white faced with rage.

“Yeah, Prudholm.”

“The way I figure it if you and your partner haven’t changed patterns, Hutchinson went high, and you went low, and right now Hutchinson is dead.”

“You’re a sick man, Prudholm.”

“Yeah. I’m sure that’s what the courts will say when I turn myself in. But that won’t be until after you’re dead, Starsky.” The click of the line sounded loud and clear and Starsky dropped the phone as if it had burned him.

“He wanted you dead,” Starsky lamented as they swiftly went back down the stairs to the car.

Me dead, not just because he hated me as a cop but because he knew what I meant to you. How badly does he need to hurt you, babe? Shit, the fucker really is crazy. “Yeah, well he must have thought we’d be pretty stupid or careless for a rinky-dink set-up like that to work.”

“But what if it had?” Starsky stopped mid-stride on the stair just inside the door to the street. He turned to look at Hutch, eyes wide and face paling. Starsky just stared at him, a slight shake of his head ‘no’, as if the pictures in his mind’s eye were too terrible to verbalize. “I…if he…”

“Don’t think about it. Come on, we got work to do.” Hutch patted Starsky on the back and steered him to the door, but he was immobile.

“Starsk?”

The blue eyes that met his were still frightened and it was a fear that wouldn’t be easily dispatched.

“Come here,” Hutch pulled the smaller man into a tight hug. “I’m fine and so are you. He can’t touch us, babe. He’s not that smart. He’s going down for this. We’ll get him. Crazy or not he’s never going to see the light of day as a free man again.” Hutch just held him, ignoring the odd glaze of a few passersby that looked into the window. He could feel the tremble in Starsky’s body and the hands that gripped Hutch’s shirtfront were like ice.

The rest of the afternoon and evening passed like many of late, dinner and Monopoly with the four of them. It would have seemed normal, too, except for Christine’s slip up comment about next year’s vacation. After the game broke up, Hutch left to take Christine home while Starsky and Terry set about straightening up and putting things away. Hutch begged off coming up to Christine’s when he dropped her off. He felt guilty at the hurt look on her face but explained he was dead on his feet and promised he’d be more attentive the next day. He kissed her gently, then with a greater passion, and found himself completely unprepared for the vision of feeling Starsky’s mouth under his opening to him. He crushed the small woman to him with a groan into her mouth then pulled away, eyes closed and panting.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come up for a while?” she asked.

“No, I’ve got to get home. Not tonight, okay, baby? I feel like I’ve been drug through a ringer. Starsky’s so torn up about what happened to Terry, looking for Prudholm all day; I need the time to unwind. I’ll pick you up tomorrow, and we’ll have a great day.” He reached across the car to touch her face. “Thanks for understanding. I mean that” He kissed her sweet face again softly and walked her to the door.

He got in the car and drove on auto-pilot to his place, warring in his mind with the remembrance of when kissing Christine had become kissing Starsky and wishing he could forget it all together. Nothing was working and by the time he was home he had no answers, but a hard on that was crippling him. A quick jack off in the shower and he was just getting into bed when he heard the knock on the door, then the scrabble of the key in the lock. He got up and retrieved his Magnum from the holster, then waited in the living room as the door slowly opened.

Starsky stood still for a second as his eyes accommodated to the darkness. “Sorry, were you in bed already?”

“Almost. No, don’t go. Come on in.” Hutch holstered his gun and shrugged into his robe hanging over the bathroom door.

“Want a beer?” he asked, pausing to turn in the refrigerator’s direction.

“No.” Starsky sat, elbows on his knees staring at his own hands. “We made love, but she didn’t want me to stay.” Starsky’s voice was quiet and hurt-filled. “Why wouldn’t she let me stay? I asked her to marry me and she didn’t even give me an answer.” Starsky looked up, the pain welling up in his eyes. “We don’t know how much time we have left? Why wouldn’t she let me stay?”

Hutch moved to the couch and put his arms around his friend. “I don’t know. Maybe she just needs some time alone to think. This has got to be hard for her to think about when you’re around. I think she feels like she wants to be strong for you. Maybe she needs that time alone now to not have to be strong. She’s always talking about how worried she is and how this is going to effect the kids, but you’re a worry too.” Hutch drew Starsky in closer and held him tightly. “It isn’t that she doesn’t want you.” Hutch spoke softly. Who wouldn’t want you?

“I can’t do this, Hutch. I’m not strong enough.”

“Yes you are, babe. You’re not alone either. I’m right here.”

“I feel so guilty…” A choked sob cut off anything else Starsky might have said.

“This isn’t your fault. Prudholm is a crazy sonofabitch and what he did in the past is on his head. It isn’t…”

“It isn’t just that,” Starsky tried to pull back out of Hutch’s embrace and Hutch let him ease away. “I love Terry, yeah, I do. She’s someone I could love for the rest of my life and have kids with. You know why?”

Hutch looked at his best friend and was lost to know what it was Starsky needed to hear. “No, why?” he answered truthfully.

“Because I don’t have to fight her over you. It’s like somehow she knows we come as a set and she’s okay with it. I’ve never dated any other girl who could deal with that.”

“Neither have I,” Hutch agreed, wiping Starsky’s tears as they fell.

“She keeps talking about being my best friend and I have to bite my tongue to keep from saying something. I already have a best friend. It’s you and I don’t want any other. It’s like that spot’s taken and I feel like shit that she’s so willing to let you be there where her spot is but I won’t let her share yours.” Starsky buried his face against Hutch’s chest and was crying again. “Does that make any sense to you?” Starsky’s muffled question struck at Hutch’s heart.

“Yeah, it makes perfect sense. I don’t have any answers, babe. But there isn’t anything for you to feel guilty about where Terry’s concerned either. She understands, she really does. She’s never made me feel like I was a third wheel even when we all did things together and Christine wasn’t there. It’s like I was the other half of you and she accepted the whole package. I don’t think when she says best friend she means instead of me. I think she just wants to let you know she loves you as much as I do. And I’m okay with that,” Hutch lied.

“Do you mind if I crash here? I feel sleepy enough to nod off now. If I wake up enough to drive home, I’ll never go to sleep.”

“Hey, no sweat. I wasn’t thinking of letting you anyway.” Hutch eased Starsky out of his arms and slowly stood, pulling the smaller man up with him as he did. “I don’t want to give you anything you can use for an excuse as to why I beat you at golf tomorrow.”

Starsky gave a short laugh, then a confused look as Hutch kept contact with his forearm and led the way into the bedroom. “Sleep in here, then we’ll both get some sleep.”

Hutch tossed off his robe and crawled into bed. Starsky pulled off his shirt and jeans and without hesitation slipped under the covers next to Hutch.

“Thanks,” he offered as he punched the pillow into submission and scooted over to press his back against Hutch’s.

“You’re welcome. Goodnight, babe.” Hutch listened to the sound of Starsky breathing until he was sure the even and slow respirations signaled sleep and tried to ignore the feeling of the warm, hard, male body that pressed against the length of him shoulder to hip. We’ve slept together before, lots of times, he thought. When did it start to feel like this? After Bellamy? That was the first time. Going back to your place so you could lie down and rest a while. I lay down with you then too. You held on to me like a drowning man, and maybe you were. I know I felt like I was. You said you wanted to feel something besides the pain for a while and that was the first time. Just a one-time feel good kind of a thing. Or was it? Nothing before or since. God, I want to make you feel that good again, but who am I really doing it for, you or me? Caught in the maelstrom of his feelings it was quite a while before Hutch fell asleep.

***

The next day at the park had been fun, with everyone working hard to appear normal. Each in their own way pretended that there was no black cloud of impending doom on the horizon. If it hadn’t been for the subtle touches and covert glances he and Starsky shared they would have almost made it happen.

They ended the day right after a late lunch. Terry wanted to be dropped off at her parent’s house to spend the evening with them. Starsky went with her, leaving Hutch and Christine alone. Separating that afternoon was almost awkward, as if Starsky wanted Hutch to go with him and Terry, too. Christine was more than obvious about looking forward to the time she and Hutch would spend together…alone.

At Christine’s place the door had barely closed before she turned to run her hands under his jacket. Standing on tiptoes she nuzzled and kissed his neck, pressing her body against him. Hutch felt pressured and it irritated him. Her perfume was stifling and he wanted to push her away. He wrapped his hands around her upper arms and pushed her off, moving past her under the guise of taking his jacket off. Hutch gave her a smile he knew must look artificial as he tossed his jacket on the arm of the couch and sat down. She sat on the back of the couch to cup his face between her hands and kiss him, letting her body slide down into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her and opened his mouth at her tongue’s insistence, but his heart wasn’t in it, and neither was his dick. We’ve been intimate before, what the hell is going on?

He felt her become more passionate and demanding as she kissed more aggressively and reached between their bodies to loosen his belt. Hutch felt a building panic at her unavoidable discovery of his lack of arousal. He let his mind race to conjure up pictures of every porno movie he’d ever seen, other hot sex he’d enjoyed, anything to save him now, but nothing was working. He fondled her breasts and ass, moving his groin away from her questing fingers. His mind still on fast forward, it eventually replayed the one and only time he’d been with a man…Starsky. His cock surged and he almost came on the spot. When that hit him it took his breath away and he jerked back, pulling his face away from where it was, in the hollow between Christine’s breasts. Oh, my God, what I doing?

She eased down his chest, opening his jeans and releasing his cock. He rested his head back against the couch and closed his eyes, picturing a head with dark curls there, imagining the magic of that mouth. He hissed in a deep breath as she swallowed him into her wet heat, rolling his balls gently with her fingers.

He rocked his hips up toward the pleasure and let out a moan. Encouraged by his response, the mouth taking him sucked harder and began to move faster. Hutch hung on with both hands to the couch cushions with white knuckles. So close, so close, oh, yeah.

“That’s so good, oh, baby. Just like that. A little more, put your fingers in me, Starsky. Harder, faster now…” The mouth on him froze and he moved with frustration. “God, don’t stop!” The boiling orgasm was beginning as the coolness of the air hit him. The mouth was gone. He reached a hand to his groin searching for the wet sucking to bring it back, but connected with nothing but his own aching erection. He raised his head and opened his eyes to see Christine standing in front of him, lips very red and slightly swollen, face dark and enraged.

“Starsky!” she shrieked “I’m doing that to you and you think I’m Starsky?”

“Wha…what?” Hutch couldn’t get his brain to work. He put his mind on instant replay and felt his eyes widen in horror. Put your fingers in me, Starsky. Oh, my God, did I say that out loud?

“Chris…what are you doing, honey? Come back here.” Hutch reached for her, hoping to refocus. He was terrified at what the look on her face might mean.

“Get out!” She backed away from him, her face full of disgust and loathing. “I won’t be your straight cover. You want to get it on with your partner? Go for it. But don’t pretend with me. Get out of here.”

“Christine, I…please give me a chance…I don’t know…” Hutch stammered as he zipped his pants, all traces of his earlier ardor gone.

“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything to Terry. She doesn’t need anything to upset her now. But don’t call me again. Okay?” She turned away from him, but not before he saw the tears in her eyes.

“I don’t know why that happened, Chris… I swear to God I don’t,” Hutch answered, remorseful.

“I do.” She offered a mirthless laugh, but didn’t turn to face him again. “He’s hotter to you than I am. Hey, if I were a guy maybe I’d think so, too. There is something about the two of you together. There always has been. I just thought it was a cop thing. But that isn’t it. You guys could be truck drivers or lawyers, I don’t think it would make any difference.”

“Christine…” Hutch stood slowly and approached her. She moved away from him, drawing her arms tighter around herself.

“Maybe it’s sort of a good thing, Terry’s dying. I mean, I hate that it’s going to happen, she’s my friend. But at least this way Dave won’t have to choose.” She turned then and faced him.

“That’s a cold thing to say.” Hutch’s jaw tightened.

“Yeah, so is how I feel right now knowing you’d choose Dave. I know he really cares about Terry, but if it weren’t for her being shot, it’s what he’d choose too. You know that, don’t you? We’d both come out the losers.” She started crying then and turned her back.

If there had been any desire in his heart to offer comfort to her as she cried, her last comment killed that as completely as the earlier erection.

“I think if you’d keep this afternoon to yourself for Terry’s sake that would be a good thing. She doesn’t need to be upset.” Hutch reached slowly for his jacket. “I’m sorry, Chris… I really am.” Hutch turned and walked out of the apartment.

Hutch drove home, stopping at a grocery store to get some beer. He felt numb and sick, deliberately not allowing himself to think or analyze what this afternoon meant in the long term.

He sat on the couch in the apartment and drank, not turning on the lights as the sun set. What would you think if you knew, Starsky? “With things the way they are with Terry, there isn’t any choice to be made. I know that, even if you don’t. But if there were…”

It was the wee hours of the morning when the cramp in his back and his full bladder over­rode the effects of the beer and he got off the couch to go to the bathroom and finish the night in his bed. With a groan he flopped down and peeled off his sticky jeans, wondering idly if the rest of the night would see the continuation of the scraps of dreams he could still remember. Dreams where he was holding a strong, hard body and feeling that body touch him, take him.

***

The next few days passed in a blur. Hutch tried to assume as much of the caseload as possible to free Starsky up to spend more time with Terry. Finishing up the last of the reports from an unrelated robbery, Hutch grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and headed out of the squadroom to meet Starsky and Terry at the park with the kids. It’s still early, so maybe the three of us can have lunch together after we take the kids back, Hutch thought.

The kids were deeply involved in the game when Hutch looked around to see that Starsky had left the court and was crouched next to where Terry sat on the picnic bench. They stood up together, Starsky practically carrying her out of the park toward the Torino. Hutch met his gaze with a grim nod, letting Starsky know he’d take care of everything there. He ran after Sally and gently guided her back to the group, fighting tears and his own fear. He finished the allotted time for the activity as close as he could stand it before herding the kids into the van and driving them back to the school.

Once he got to the school and signed the children back in, he explained to the secretary at the office he needed someone to give him a ride back to the park to get his car. He informed her that Starsky had taken Terry to the hospital and he needed to get there too. It seemed like forever before she got someone free of the lunch duty to relieve her in the office and to drive Hutch to the park.

Crawling in the heavy lunch traffic he finally arrived at the downtown hospital, parking the car and hurrying up to the Neuro ward. As he rounded the comer he saw Starsky standing in the corridor outside of one of the rooms. Both arms were wrapped tightly around his chest and he leaned against the wall, his eyes closed tightly as his body shook with sobs.

Hutch ran the remaining few steps from the elevator and grabbed his partner. Starsky’s arms reached out and crushed Hutch as his knees buckled and Hutch let them both slide slowly to the floor. He pressed Starsky’s face into his chest as Starsky cried heart wrenching sobs, and Hutch felt his own tears begin. Many long minutes passed like that before a nurse approached.

“Are there any phone calls you’d like me to make?” she asked gently.

“Her parents, please. If you’d call them.”

Starsky tried to calm somewhat to speak but relaxed back into Hutch’s grasp as he let his partner talk for him. Hutch eased away fractionally after the nurse walked away. “Want to try and get up?” he asked.

“I should have called her folks back. They should have been able to get here to say goodbye too, but she asked me not to. I think she said her goodbyes to them at their house the other day and wanted that to be their last memory.”

“That sounds like her,” Hutch offered softly.

“She had everything all arranged. Before she checked out of the hospital last time, she gave them all the information, funeral home, everything. I couldn’t believe it.”

“She didn’t want you to have to deal with that, babe.”

“I don’t know if I’d have been that strong… if things had been the other way around.” Starsky looked up with reddened eyes. “But then I wouldn’t have had to be, would I?”

“What?”

“You’d have done it for me.” Starsky gave a shuddered sigh and hung his head “I want to go home. No, not home…your place. I want to go there.”

“Whatever you want. I’m not leaving you alone, anyway.”

Hutch drove Starsky’s car to Venice Place and the two walked silently up the stairs. Starsky looked around the living room hesitantly, then went with a sigh to sit on the couch.

“Do you want something to eat?” Hutch asked, guessing the answer but needing to offer something.

Starsky shook his head without looking up.

Hutch came and sat next to him, bringing two bottles of beer. Uncapping both he handed one to Starsky who took it and raised it shakily to his lips. Drinking some he pulled the bottle back, lips moist and turned to Hutch as he set the bottle down. “I feel like I’ve got this disease, or some sort of bad karma. Something bad happens to everybody I care about.”

“Starsk, this was a shitty thing that happened, but it wasn’t your fault.”

“How can you believe that, Hutch? If I was a school teacher, do you think Prudholm would have followed Terry and shot her?”

“Starsky, listen to me. I don’t have any answers to give you. Figuring out all the why’s in the cosmos takes somebody smarter than me. I do believe that Terry’s life had a certain number of days for it. If it hadn’t been this, it would have been something else. She’s not dead because you loved her.”

“It feels like it. I never said it made any sense… only that’s how I feel.” Starsky looked over at Hutch, his sad blue eyes searching Hutch’s face. “I think about that and it scares me. I worry how long before it happens to you?”

“What? What happens to me? Something bad because you think it could?” Hutch set his bottle down too and pulled Starsky to him. “Listen, Gordo, I’m a cop just like you are. It’s a dangerous job. We both know it. But I’d bet for every cop who has been killed in the line of duty there are other cops who died in stupid off duty car accidents, heart attacks, strokes, cancer. When your time’s up, it’s up.” He rubbed over Starsky’s back. “Nothing’s going to happen to me because we love each other.”

Hutch felt Starsky stiffen slightly in his arms and he knew he was holding his own breath. I didn’t mean to say that, did I?

“Do we, Hutch?” Starsky’s voice sounded from Hutch’s shoulder.

“Do we what?” Hutch stalled.

“Love each other?”

Hutch loosened his hug and dared to look at his partner. “Yeah, we do,” Hutch answered softly. I may never act on it with you again, but I’ll be damned if I’ll lie about it.

“It hurts, Hutch…” Starsky’s voice was a whisper, yet it slammed into Hutch forcefully as he remembered the times he’d heard Starsky say those words before. In the police lab, the alley behind the porno studio and in Starsky’s own apartment when he’d begged Hutch to take the pain away for a little while.

“I know, babe…” Hutch offered the same answer, settling Starsky’s head against him once more.

“Make it stop…take the pain away. Nobody makes it go away like you do.” Starsky was gripping the front of Hutch’s shirt, pulling them together. “Please…”

Hutch kissed the skin under Starsky’s collar, nudging the hair out of the way with his nose. He kissed the side of Starsky’s face and felt it turn to him. Starsky’s hands clawed at Hutch’s shoulders and back.

Hutch’s mouth found Starsky’s and it opened hot and hungry. Tongues dueled with a desperate passion. Hutch pulled back and took Starsky’s hand. He started to stand and direct Starsky toward the bed, but the smaller man slid off the couch to the floor, kneeing the coffee table out of the way.

“Here, now.” Starsky pulled down on the hand Hutch held and brought them together on the floor. Hutch went willingly, both men’s hands busy divesting their own clothes and each other’s.

Hutch let Starsky set the pace as he responded to Starsky’s demanding kisses. Hutch kissed back with passion and strength, turning Starsky on his back and stretching out on top to cover him. Hutch’s mouth pulled away from Starsky’s lips to kiss and suck down his neck. He licked at an ear, the fire Hutch was intent on creating fanned by the eager responses of the man under him. Hutch ran his tongue down the side of Starsky’s neck, tasting him and drinking in the scent of his cologne. Hutch smiled when he recognized it as his own. His mind registered the fragmented thought. I wondered where that bottle went. Hutch kissed down the furred chest, teasing first one nipple then the other as Starsky writhed and groaned his pleasure. Starsky rocked his hips upward at intervals, a light push downward on Hutch’s shoulder making his need clear. Hutch kissed and licked and nipped his way to the full cock that jutted upward for his attention. Capturing it in his hand, Hutch licked across the small bead of moisture shining at the slit, feeling the cock jump and harden more. Starsky’s breath hissed and he bucked his pelvis upward, his thighs trembling.

“Ohhh, babe… come on… do it…” Starsky panted.

Hutch swirled his tongue around the head, then engulfed as much of the shaft as he could into his mouth. He was urged on by Starsky’s moving and moaning as Hutch performed every trick that he’d ever had done to him over the years. Inexperience and awkwardness were dampened by Hutch’s desire to make Starsky’s pain go away. Here in Hutch’s arms, in Hutch’s mouth, there would be nothing but pleasure.

Hutch could feel Starsky’s eruption getting closer. He tightened his grip on the base of Starsky’s shaft and sucked harder. Hutch’s fingers gently rolled Starsky’s balls in their sac as they drew up tighter in preparation. Starsky’s mumblings were undecipherable now, his breathing erratic just before he thrust up strongly and shouted through the spasms that shot his seed into Hutch’s eager throat. Starsky’s shout turned to a deep throaty moan as the last spurts gave way to a gradual softening of the cock in Hutch’s mouth.

Hutch closed his eyes as he swallowed, working to relax his throat and not gag with the force of the flow. He raised up slightly to plant a kiss on Starsky’s heaving stomach and was surprised to feel his shoulders roughly clutched as Starsky dragged Hutch up his body to kiss him. Starsky searched Hutch’s mouth with his tongue, undoubtedly tasting himself there and Hutch found it to be a definite turn on. His own cock throbbing and beginning to leak, he rubbed it against Starsky’s hip, pressing down to increase the friction.

Starsky reached for him then, wrapping slender fingers around Hutch’s erection and pumping smoothly.

“That was so good, so good,” Starsky whispered against Hutch’s mouth as he twisted and squeezed Hutch’s cock into an explosion of its own. Hutch shook and clung to the promise in Starsky’s mouth as his hand sent Hutch flying.

They lay there on the floor, boneless and breathing like they had bellows for lungs. When a combination of the hard floor and the goosebumps from the cool air on their sweaty bodies registered, Hutch was the first to move. Grabbing up a discarded shirt he wiped them both off and tossed the shirt aside. He stood and extended a hand to Starsky who took it silently. Hutch led the way to the big bed and tugged Starsky in after him, pulling the covers up over them both as he settled Starsky’s head against his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around him. It wasn’t long before Hutch felt the soft touch of warm tears failing on his chest. He raised one hand to finger comb through Starsky’s hair as he whispered a litany of comfort. Gradually the wetness dried and Starsky’s body relaxed in his grip. They both fell asleep.

The sounds of weed-whacking and lawn blowers awakened Hutch and he reached for the warmth he expected to find on the other side of the bed. It was empty. He ran his hand further down along the sheet under the covers to see if there were any traces of body warmth, but there were not. Been gone for a while, huh, babe? Hutch sighed and turned over on his back to stare at the ceiling. Deciding he was bored and lonely, he lurched up out of bed and into the bathroom. Noting the wet towel hanging over the shower curtain he smiled. Damn, I was really out of it. Hadn’t been that long since I got laid. The memory flooded over him. “Maybe just that long since I really made love,” he whispered sadly.

When he emerged from the bathroom after his morning ablutions, he shuffled to the kitchen for the coffeepot. He was more than a little surprised to see his car keys lying on the counter next to it, with a note.

I didn’t want you to have a hassle getting your car from the hospital where we left it. I brought the bomb home for you while it was still dark enough for nobody to see it was me driving it. Thanks for last night. We’ll talk, unless you want to pretend it never happened. Your call, babe. S.

Hutch re-read the note while the coffeepot gurgled. In the deepest recesses of his heart, in that place that was closed and so tightly guarded, a little flicker struggled to ignite. I don’t want to pretend it never happened, but I want to be sure you’re thinking clearly, Starsk. I couldn’t handle being a thing brought on by your grief and thrown away later. Hutch took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “We’ll talk… God, give me the words.”

***

The next few days passed under the black cloud that accompanies funerals and the overwhelming emotional roller-coaster of dealing with the desire to let life go back to what passes for normal amidst the sympathy cards and phone calls. Starsky was given, and surprisingly enough, actually took the three days of bereavement leave Dobey offered, leaving Hutch to walk through the daily hours at the precinct alone. He’d been at Starsky’s side for the viewing and the funeral, his hand resting on Starsky’s shoulder or back, running interference if the conversation became too difficult, and answering questions about how it had happened from college friends and acquaintances who had come from out of town. Hutch was a constant buffer between Starsky and Terry’s family lest someone make a move or comment even remotely accusatory. It drained him. He almost welcomed coming back to work, even if he was alone for a few days.

The requiem of paperwork and empty leads was short lived when Dobey burst out of his office to lay a beefy hand on Hutch’s shoulder.

“Go find your partner. Prudholm’s in a Smart and Final warehouse. He’s got hostages that he’s going to kill if Starsky doesn’t get down there.”

Hutch grabbed his jacket and left without another word. In the car he asked dispatch to landline Starsky’s apartment and patch him though. He was hardly surprised to hear them come back with the verdict of ‘no answer’. He turned down a side street and headed by instinct to where he believed Starsky would be. In a few moments he pulled up and parked on the street in front of the park where they used to take the kids to play basketball. Starsky sat at the picnic table looking up warily at the last minute as Hutch approached.

“They got Prudholm,” Hutch offered as he sat down, letting his hand slip from where it had squeezed Starsky’s shoulder.

“Custody?”

“He tried a heist at a grocery warehouse, only this time the silent alarm worked.”

“Barricaded?”

“He’s got hostages,” Hutch replied as he touched Starsky’s shoulder again before standing. Hutch took a few steps away, then turned, knowing what he had to say, but hating it. “He says he’s going to kill them unless you come.” Hutch’s jaw tightened and his heart broke seeing the pain flashing in Starsky’s eyes at the thought of more death, more tears, more funerals.

Once they arrived at the warehouse, all the anxiety Hutch had been battling faded. He wasn’t going to allow Starsky to act out of the barely concealed simmering rage that fueled him now. They were going to walk away from this, and one way or another it would end here. It felt like High Noon. I’m not sure which one of us is Gary Cooper, but, damn it, the good guy is going to win.

Starsky approached Dobey, jamming a round in the chamber of his automatic. As Hutch fired logistical questions, it became apparent the options were narrowing. He seized on his idea before Starsky could voice his. The last statement Starsky made about Prudholm getting what he’d wanted all along, a chance to blow his face off, turned Hutch’s stomach in a sickening roll.

Hutch made his request to Dobey that the Captain call Prudholm in a distraction tactic, then walked purposefully to the full dress Police Harley that was parked nearby. Starsky followed until Hutch swung his leg over the seat of the huge bike and Starsky stiffened and put out a restraining hand. “Hey, wait a minute. Think you’re going first?”

“Right,” Hutch answered as he fumbled the key on.

“No way, this is mine,” Starsky’s answer was adamant.

“This is ours, partner,” Hutch answered looking directly into Starsky’s eyes. “Okay?” He silently sent every nuance of love as the message, and was finally rewarded by a shadow of a smile of understanding.

“Okay,” Starsky answered and hopped on the back of the bike behind Hutch. He laced his right arm around Hutch’s middle while the left held his gun ready. Hutch squeezed his elbow down against Starsky’s arm as he steered the bike toward the building.

After the crash through the storefront window and the apprehension of the other suspect with Prudholm, Hutch waited, and listened. He knew the isolated shots fired were not from Starsky’s gun. They were weak and wimpy sounding, more like a Saturday night special, and he remembered it was in fact a 0.38 caliber shell that had been impacted in Terry’s brain. The firing stopped and Hutch could hear the gravelly droning of Prudholm’s voice. He inched closer to be sure Starsky was okay and saw Prudholm laying among huge bags of popped com with Starsky looming over him. He stared at his partner, seeing the anger and hatred in Starsky’s eyes. What the hell will I do, Starsk, if I think you’re going to kill him? There was a level of feeling inside Hutch that wanted the old man dead too, retribution that the legal system would never give.

“But you’re not going to shoot me, you’re too good a cop…” Prudholm’s voice registered in Hutch’s mind, then in Hutch’s heart.

“Yeah, babe, you are too good a cop,” Hutch agreed softly, letting out a breath he was barely aware he’d been holding. He stood up finally and holstered his Magnum, knowing he wouldn’t need it. He stood, brushing off shiny glass fragments that still clung to his pant legs and met Starsky in the main aisle as he pushed Prudholm toward the exit ahead of him.

“Okay?” Hutch asked, with a squeeze of Starsky’s neck under his hair.

“Yeah.” Starsky answered too quickly, then paused to meet Hutch’s eyes. “Yeah, I am, partner.” Starsky’s eyes raked over Hutch’s face and body. “You got glass in your hair, blondie. Give yourself a shake before you get in my car.” Starsky gave him a genuine smile and moved closer to Prudholm as the patrolmen were cuffing the old man.

***

Starsky looked at Hutch as he read the words Terry had written on her note with the package containing Ollie. He felt the lump in his own throat growing as he read aloud, so easily picturing the gentle face and clear blue eyes of the woman now asking that he take care of the two things she valued most: a childhood friend and a lover. Hutch heard the catch in Starsky’s breath as he finished reading, turning his face to meet another set of clear blue eyes. He saw the face of that same lover, now his own, through tear-filled eyes. “That’s beautiful,” Hutch’s voice barely a whisper. Starsky nodded, a sad smile in place as his throat bobbed with the sobs he tried unsuccessfully to swallow.

“Come here, babe.” Hutch put Ollie and the note down gently on the floor and held his arms open to offer comfort. Starsky came into them without any hesitation, all but body slamming Hutch against the kitchen cabinet at his back. “It’s okay to cry if you need to. I’ve got you. Let it out,” Hutch crooned against Starsky’s temple. He threaded long fingers through the thick curly hair, and pressed Starsky’s head harder against his chest.

“She knew, Hutch.” Starsky spoke into Hutch’s shirtfront. “She knew even before we did.” Starsky leaned back to look at Hutch, teary eyes searching, for what Hutch didn’t know.

“Maybe she did, maybe that’s why she never minded sharing you, or including me. I just hope she knows that she made the right choice.”

“Choice?” Starsky asked.

“In trusting me with Ollie and you. I’ll do my best to never take the gift lightly.” Hutch ran his hand down the side of his lover’s face, thumbing away a tear’s track. He leaned in and pressed home a gentle kiss, warm soft lips taking Starsky’s mouth, then started to pull back when Starsky gripped Hutch’s head to pull him in closer. Starsky’s lips opened and his tongue sought Hutch’s and the gentle kiss gave way as passion flared

“Ollie you can deal with later. Right now I need you to love me.” Starsky spoke without taking his lips from Hutch’s mouth. Strong hands pulled at Hutch’s shirt as Hutch felt himself pulled down to the floor.

With a swipe of his arm he cast aside the Monopoly board, sending the money and playing pieces to skitter across the kitchen floor.

“I do love you, always,” Hutch answered, as he set about to prove it.