Table of Contents
Both Starsky and Hutch struggle to recover from Gunther.
The sequel to this story is Tell Me Nine Truths.
This novel-length story was first published in the zine, Don’t Give Up On Us, Baby in May of 2001, and edited by Lucy and Elaine. We’re extremely happy to be able to host it here so that all SH fans can enjoy Lucy’s wonderful story. Thank you, Lucy!
We also want to thank Carolyn P. for all the work she did proofing/formatting a rough scan.
Final proofing and formatting was done by Keri T., so any remaining goofs are hers alone.
Chapter 1
The phone at Hutch’s desk rang and he jumped, spilling his coffee as it startled him out of a doze. Damn it to hell.
“Hello,” he snapped, dabbing at the spill and moving reports out of harm’s way.
“Well, you don’t sound like you’re having a good day, my man,” Huggy’s voice chided.
“I’m not; just spilled coffee all over my desk.”
“It’s 104 degrees outside today, and you’re drinking coffee?” he asked incredulously.
“I’m asleep on my feet, gotta do something,” Hutch replied through a wide yawn.
“How long you gonna burn your candle at both ends? You can’t work all day and be up with Starsky half the night and it not catch up with you.”
“He’ll get better. It won’t always be like this,” Hutch responded stubbornly.
“How many hours sleep did you get last night?”
“Huggy, give it a rest.”
“How many?” he pushed.
“About two and a half, more or less.”
“Need I say more?”
“You don’t need to say anything, and I especially don’t want you saying anything to Starsky. Got it?” Hutch’s voice took on his no nonsense edge.
“I got it.”
“Why’d you call, what’s up?”
“You need to stop off at the drug store on the way home. They called that the refills on his prescriptions are ready. The doctor’s check up today went okay. They had me take him over to have lab work done again. The doctor thought he was too pale.” Huggy chuckled. “Maybe the doc was comparing Starsky to me.”
“Of course he’s pale, he lost a lot of blood. Shit, three weeks ago he was dead, for God’s sake. Are they going to call the results of the lab work today?”
“They didn’t say. You know those vampire types. Spooky.”
“Okay, I’ll call the office later. Thanks. Hey, and thank you for taking him for me today. I appreciate it. I had to make the court appearance; there was no way around it. How’d he do getting to the car and everything?”
“Not too bad. Moved slowly, took something for pain before we went and again when we got home. I put him to bed and he was asleep when I left.”
“Did he eat or drink anything? Those pills are kinda hard on his stomach if he doesn’t…”
“I know, Hutch, you told me about five times. He drank a glass of milk before we left, and ate a bowl of cereal when we got home. Well most of it, anyway.”
“Okay, thanks, I’ll get there as soon as I can get out of here and go by the drug store. Thanks again, Hug.”
“No problemo, catch you later.” The line went dead.
Hutch rested his brow on the receiver a moment before replacing it. God, I’m so tired. Please let him sleep some tonight, so I can.
The door to his Captain’s office opened and Hutch looked over, knowing the summons coming would be for him. He was right. Wearily he pushed up out of the chair and plodded through the door. Dobey stood at the entrance, waiting until he’d entered, then closed the door behind him.
“Ummm, closed door session, must be serious, Captain. What is it?”
“How’s Starsky?” Captain Dobey asked gently, taking his seat behind the desk.
“He’s weak, in pain, but he’s getting stronger. He’ll be okay, it’ll just take some time.”
“He needs to get set up with the department’s Employee Assistance people when he feels well enough to come in. He’s got to be cleared emotionally as well as physically before he can come back. If you think he even wants to.” Dobey looked up from where he sat, questioning.
“He knows that. We’ve got all the paperwork in process for a work-related injury. The disability stuff the doctors have already filled out. The guy subletting Starsky’s apartment is there for a three-month lease; after that it’s month-to-month and he’s okay with it. He was too glad to find something reasonable that close to where he works. It’s a God-send for him.”
“What about you?” Dobey asked, his eyes serious.
“What about me?” Hutch asked warily, as he sat in the nearest chair.
“How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine,” he replied a little too quickly. “A little tired. Starsky doesn’t sleep too well at night yet.”
“Nightmares?” Dobey questioned.
“Sometimes, sometimes it’s muscle cramps, or pain in general, or that he’s dozed during the day and can’t stay asleep during the night. It’ll get better.” Hutch shifted nervously in the chair. He thinks Starsky is in my bed because he’s convalescing, don’t give him any reason to think otherwise. Change the subject! Think of something, damn it!
“I’ve got some big holes in the schedule coming up with summer vacations. I need you back on the streets. Let me emphasize that,” the big man paused. “I need you back on the street at one hundred percent. You’ve refused nursing help with Starsky and I understand you feel the need to help him recover. But I need you now, on the job. I’m asking you to consider delegating some of Starsky’s recovery to the people who do that for a living. You need to be a cop again.”
“I am not going to turn him over to a parade of strangers who meet once a month to compare notes. It’s getting better, and I can handle it. I’m not slacking here…” Hutch hated the building panic he sensed threatening.
“I’m going to assign you a temporary partner. Just until we know what Starsky’s going to do, or be able to do.”
“I wish you wouldn’t do that. I don’t mind working alone. Zebra Five has been really good about helping me cover things, they are usually not too far away. It hasn’t been…”
Dobey cut him off. “This is Los Angeles. We don’t run single units here in this precinct. There’s a reason for that, and that reason hasn’t changed in the past three weeks that I am aware of. If and when that memo comes down I’ll let you know. In the meantime, be here on time in the morning. You’ll be paired with a Steve Bussell from Westwood. He’s got a good record, native Californian, 32 years old, single. I picked him myself. I can’t imagine why, but there were 23 applicants for the position to work with you. Be civil to him, you hear me?”
Hutch looked up, his frown replaced by genuine surprise. “Civil? Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I’m just reminding you up front it isn’t this guy’s fault he’s not your partner.” Dobey’s voice softened and so did his expression. “And Ken, it isn’t your fault Starsky got shot, both of you were targets. It could just as easily have been you.”
I wish to hell it had been.
Hutch looked up into his Captain’s eyes and saw a sad understanding flicker there, then fade away.
“Get your reports finished. I don’t need to remind you you’re late on several.” Dobey turned his attention to some papers on his desk in dismissal.
“Yes, sir,” Hutch said distantly as he dragged himself stiffly out of the chair and left the office.
He looked bleakly at the soggy mess on his desk and went back to cleaning it up, looking with dismay at two reports that would be unsalvageable. He sighed in frustration and went over to the coffeepot and poured himself another cup. Reaching in his pocket he took two of the No-Doz he’d bought on the way in that morning. He hated the way the caffeine made him shake, but he was dead on his feet. Not only would he never catch up on the paperwork if he didn’t wake up, but he’d risk falling asleep driving home like he’d done the afternoon before. He slipped out to the bathroom to splash some water on his face until the pills kicked in. Resting his weight on his hands, he looked at his face in the mirror. Hutchinson, you look like shit! He ran his wet fingers through his long hair thinking how overdue for a haircut he was. Smoothing his fingers over his mustache, Maybe I’ll lose this when I get a haircut. Is there still an All-American boy in there somewhere?
He went to the urinal and relieved himself, washed his hands and walked back to the squad room. As he sat down he could feel his fingers start to get cold and his pulse rate quicken, indicating the caffeine was kicking in.
With the phone held at one ear as he re-typed the soiled report, he called the doctor’s office to see if Starsky’s lab work had come back and if he needed to modify any of their routine. He waited impatiently for the doctor to come to the phone.
“Yes, Dr. Healy, thanks for taking the call. I couldn’t bring David in today because I had to appear in court. How is he doing? Do we need to change anything?”
“He looked as well as can be expected. I did another blood count, he seemed a little pale. Let me see if those results have been called in yet, hold on.”
As well as can be expected. What the hell does that mean, shithead?
“Yes, here it is. His hemoglobin is still low, 8.6. It was 8.4 when he left the hospital three days ago. I’d like to see it rise a bit quicker. I called in his refills and added a hi-potency iron supplement. I know I told you to have him take the multivitamin with iron, but this is even stronger. If it gives him diarrhea be sure he drinks plenty of fluids so he won’t get dehydrated. If it goes the other way, bran flakes, or prune juice. You were a medical student, you know the drill. The incisions look good, and he’s holding his weight. He still needs to put back on some of what he lost, but he isn’t losing any more. That’s good.”
“He isn’t sleeping very well at night.”
“That’s to be expected. He’s still processing what happened to him. Dying will do that to you. He’ll come to grips with it in stages. He’ll get frustrated with his slow recovery. He’ll have mood swings, and get depressed one minute and euphoric the next. What’s keeping him up? Nightmares?”
“Sometimes it’s that. Other times it’s muscle cramps or that he just can’t get comfortable.”
“Have him try eating a banana or drinking some orange juice before he goes to bed; that may help the muscle cramps. If it’s his electrolytes fluctuating, passive range of motion after a hot bath may help, too. You’re doing the physical therapy in the morning, right?”
“Yes, I do it before I go to work.”
“Okay, do it again at night. See if that helps.”
“We’ll try that, thanks a lot. I expect to be able to be the one to bring him next time.”
“No problem, keep doing what you’re doing. Call the office if you need anything.”
“Thanks, I will.” Hutch juggled the receiver back in place. He hates the therapy stuff. Maybe after a hot bath it won’t hurt him as much as it does in the morning when everything is so stiff.
He finished typing the last of his reports, then signed and filed them. Looking at his watch, he grimaced at the thought of the traffic gridlock he was about to enter for the drive home.
***
He arrived hot and sweaty from the ugly commute and let himself into the cool apartment. Everything was quiet, the TV off and Starsky asleep on the couch. He stopped to look at his lover. He smiled at the boneless sprawl of long arms and legs. He took a deep breath and let it out, drinking in the sight. I could almost think everything was back to normal, you sprawled out dozing on the couch, if it weren’t for the bandages that I know are under your shirt. The doctor was right, you are still pretty pale. I wonder if I could get you to eat liver and onions?
“Fat chance,” he muttered to himself as he set down the bags he was carrying in the kitchen. “At least he’s alive to sprawl.” Hutch closed his eyes in silent gratitude. Looking back over his shoulder he gave his lover one more look, feeling his heart swell as it often did when he looked at Starsky asleep. The fullness went straight to his groin. You may look like I just screwed you through the mattress, but we’re a long way from going there. “Go beat-off in the shower, Hutchinson, and get over it.”
Feeling somewhat refreshed from the shower and still alert from all the day’s caffeine, he went to the kitchen to start dinner. Humming softly as he put the chicken breasts in the oven, he smiled, feeling two arms encircle him from behind.
“Bending over like that is quite an invitation to a convalescent,” a voice soft from sleep whispered in his ear as he straightened.
Hutch turned into the embrace and held Starsky to him gently. Feeling the warmth of his body, safe and solid in his arms, filled him with a peace he struggled to find every minute he spent away from his partner during the hours at work. He cupped the side of Starsky’s face, letting the fingers extend into his unruly hair.
“How was your day? Huggy get you to your appointment okay?”
“Yeah, doc said I was doing okay.”
“The drugstore called to tell me your medicine was ready so I stopped and got it on the way home. There’s a new one. Looks like an iron tonic of some sort.”
“Yeah, he mentioned that. What’s for dinner?”
“Chicken and rice. You want baby peas or green beans with it?” Hutch asked.
“I don’t care. You wouldn’t have jalapeños to put in either of them so it doesn’t matter,” Starsky replied with a teasing smile as he went back to the couch to sit down. Hutch noticed the hand that tightened against Starsky’s chest and abdomen as he lowered himself down, and the breath he let out once he got there.
“I’ve got an idea to try. We’ll see if it helps you sleep better tonight.”
“What’s that? A sledge hammer?”
“Maybe your potassium is low and that’s why you’re having muscle cramps, so I got some bananas and some orange juice. You can eat that before we go to bed. See if it helps. Maybe a hot bath too, and I’ll go through the range of motion stuff like we do in the morning. That may move everything around so you can feel tired and sleep.”
Starsky was looking at him with no particular interest. “Okay, we’ll try it if you want.”
“Sure, can’t hurt, right?” Easy for me to say.
When dinner was ready Hutch gently awakened Starsky from his doze on the couch.
“Babe, wake up, dinner’s ready. You want to sit at the table, or you want me to bring it here?”
Starsky started at the touch and gazed up in unfocused confusion for a second. Then, taking Hutch’s outstretched hand, he pulled himself upright to sit, then stand, motioning his intent to move to the table.
They ate in comfortable starts and stops of general conversation until Starsky asked, “When is Dobey going to assign you a new partner?”
Hutch dropped his fork with a clatter. “What?”
“You heard me. Don’t act like it ain’t gonna happen, ’cause we both know it will. When you got hit in the shoulder and were only expected to be out a couple of weeks, he made me take one. I’ll be out a hell of a lot longer than that and we both know it. That is, if they let me come back at all,” he finished grimly.
“I asked him not to. You know that, don’t you?”
“Sure, so did I, but I didn’t get anywhere. You won’t either. And I wouldn’t want him to let you work our area alone. It isn’t safe. You need somebody to watch your back. I sit here and worry about you.” Starsky looked up, his love and concern deepening his blue eyes.
“Well, don’t. Save the energy for yourself. I’m fine. Dobey and I talked today. I’ve got a temporary guy coming in tomorrow. His name is Steve Bussell. I’ll check him out and let you know what I think tomorrow.” He stood and began clearing the dishes. “You know, the funny thing was, Dobey said there were a lot of people that put in for the temporary assignment. Doesn’t that seem odd to you?” Hutch looked back to Starsky and saw some uncertainty flicker there briefly.
“Maybe they’re out to get their pictures in the paper. We seem to have gotten a lot of press lately.”
“Dobey said he hand-picked this guy. He wouldn’t give me a hot dog, would he?”
“No, you’re right, he wouldn’t. Well, bring him around some time so I can meet him.” Hutch reached for Starsky’s plate, raising a questioning eyebrow. “So I can see if his intentions are honorable,” Starsky teased.
“He’s a temporary partner, I’m not marrying the guy.” He leaned over and took a chicken-flavored kiss. “I’m already taken.”
“You bet you are.” Starsky returned the kiss.
Starsky got up and went to the kitchen and opened the bag from the drug store, shaking out the pills he was due after dinner, then took them. Noticing the new bottle, he opened it and cautiously smelled the contents. He made a face and started to put the bottle down when Hutch’s voice stopped him.
“No, you don’t, mister.” Handing him a spoon, “You do it or I’ll do it for you.”
Making another face, Starsky took the spoon and poured some out. Hesitating only long enough to see Hutch take a step in his direction, he downed it. Handing Hutch back the spoon, he coughed at the taste and went back to the table to get his coke. “Do it or I’ll do it for you,” he mimicked. Then hearing Hutch clear his throat in warning, he fixed his partner with a sweet smile and went back to the couch.
Hutch finished up in the kitchen and went to run a hot bath for Starsky to soak in and came out carrying a basket of laundry. “I’ve got a hot bath running for you. I’m going to go downstairs and throw these in so we have underwear and I’ll be right back.”
He walked downstairs and threw the laundry in quickly and left the basket on top of the machine. Turning, he let out a deep sigh as he climbed the stairs, feeling the oppressive fatigue returning. He went to check on the tub’s filling and turned off the water. “It’s ready. You coming?”
Starsky showed up in the bathroom doorway, shrugging out of his shirt, wincing as the movement made his chest muscles protest. Hutch reached over and helped him free of the sleeves, and steadied Starsky’s arm as he skinned out of the loose jeans. Starsky stepped over and let Hutch ease him down into the warm water. Letting the water loosen the tape on the dressing so it would come off easier was a trick they’d learned the last time Starsky had been shot when his skin and hairy chest rebelled at the frequent pulling of the tape. Hutch removed the dressing, checked the incision and nodded his satisfaction as to how it looked.
“I’m still together?” Starsky asked.
“Yep, no stuffing leaking out anywhere, Mr. Scarecrow.”
“Frankenstein’s more like it,” Starsky muttered as he looked down at his chest and abdomen.
Hutch moved his hand toward where Starsky’s traced the incisions. “You’re as beautiful to me as you always have been. Once the hair grows back, you’ll never see those scars.”
Starsky laced his fingers into Hutch’s but not before he noticed the shaking of the blond’s hand and frowned.
“How much coffee you had today?”
“Probably too much. Lay back and relax. I’ll be right back.”
When Hutch returned he was carrying a glass of orange juice. He set it carefully on the edge of the tub and checked to see that the water was still warm. He sat down on the closed toilet seat and rubbed both hands over his face. “While you’re still soaking, I’ll go throw the laundry in the dryer. Then I’ll help you out and do my magic fingers on you.” Wiggling his long fingers at Starsky gained him a smile, and he kissed it before dashing downstairs.
Straightening up from throwing the last of the clothes into the dryer, he grabbed for the edge of the doorway as a wave of dizziness darkened the edges of his vision. “Whoa, maybe that last No-Doz wasn’t such a good idea.” He waited until it passed, then walked more slowly up the stairs. He went into the bathroom, glad to see Starsky had actually drunk the juice, soaped up a washcloth and began to wash him.
“You know, Hutch, I’m sure I can probably do this myself,” Starsky mumbled sleepily.
“Yeah, but there’s a lot of places it would hurt you to reach. I don’t mind.” He rinsed off the soap and released the water to flow out of the tub. Holding a big towel he helped Starsky to stand and step out into his arms. He kissed the warm wet neck as he dried him gently, then wrapped the robe around his shoulders as they moved into the bedroom. Starsky eased down onto the bed and Hutch sat next to him. Pouring out some massage oil into his palm, he warmed it before reaching for Starsky’s arm. Massaging the oil in, he kneaded the muscles and rotated the shoulder slowly forward and back. Then he moved his hands across the chest, rubbing there before going to the right arm that was so painful for Starsky to move. He rubbed it in the same way, watching Starsky’s face for signs of more pain. He did the range of motion as he’d been directed, hating Starsky’s closed eyes and small groans. He moved down Starsky’s sides and took each leg in turn. Lightly slapping Starsky’s thigh, he ordered. “Roll over.”
Starsky grunted as he eased over gingerly onto his stomach, presenting his back to Hutch. This was the part that bothered Hutch the most. The exit wounds were so much worse than the entry ones. He poured out some more oil, glad that Starsky couldn’t see his face for this part. He’d never be able to hide his own pain from Starsky, he was sure. Starsky’s muscles felt soft and relaxed when he was finished and he seemed almost asleep. “I think we can leave the dressings off for good now, everything looks great.” Hutch covered him and kissed the ear peeking out of the dark curls. “I’m going to see if the clothes are dry. I’ll be right back. Did you take a pain pill when you took everything else?”
Starsky nodded and snuggled deeper into his pillow.
“Good, I’ll be back in a second. Go to sleep, babe. I love you.”
“Love you,” came the sleepy reply.
Hutch went downstairs to retrieve the dry clothes and carried them back upstairs. He checked that Starsky was indeed asleep when he returned, then sat on the couch to fold the clothes.
He was yawning frequently by the time he finished putting the clothes quietly away, took off his own clothes and slipped into bed next to the sleeping man.
Starsky reached out his hand to rest on Hutch’s arm and mumbled something indiscernible. Hutch took in a deep breath and willed his exhausted body to relax and his mind to shut down. He concentrated on listening to Starsky’s soft breathing. He’s alive; he’s safe. Go to sleep while you can, damn it.
He saw the dial on the clock radio change several hour numerals before his eyes closed and he drifted off.
The screaming metal as it tore against the parked squad car echoed loudly in the parking garage, as did the tires on the cement. But both sounds faded to insignificance when the bark of the automatic gunfire shattered the air. He felt as though he were moving through syrup, every nuance in slow motion, and nothing he could do would speed up each frame as it passed in his mind’s eye. The feel of the Magnum was heavy in his hand as he drew it and fired. Fired too late and without effect. The sound of his heartbeat coupled with the dying echo of the gunfire rang in his ears as he screamed “Starsky!” and turned to see his lover lying on the floor of the garage. Still… bleeding… dying…
“NNNNOOOOOOO,” the scream tore from him, burning his throat as he jerked upright in bed. He sat staring into the darkness, half expecting to still see the scene that had awakened him. He was breathing as if he’d run the LA Marathon in record time and was covered with sweat. It ran into his open eyes, stinging, causing them to water, and the tears to run down his cheeks. He wiped his face with a shaky hand and looked quickly over to the man sleeping on the other side of the bed. Starsky was still, eyes closed and respirations even. Hutch slipped silently from the bed and padded into the bathroom, closing the door before turning on the light. He splashed water on his face and was hit with an intense wave of nausea that doubled him over and drove him to one knee. He held tightly to the toilet bowl, driving the porcelain bus until there was nothing more to expel, then rested his head against his arm as he flushed the evidence away.
Great, the first night Starsky doesn’t wake up with nightmares, then I do. He struggled to clear his mind of the scene replaying over and over behind closed lids, feeling the familiar constricting of his throat and the sob he couldn’t stifle. He gave up the effort it took to hold the tears at bay, and let them come, pressing his closed fist against his mouth to muffle the noise. He cried like he had not been able to cry since this whole nightmare began. Eventually spent, he rose off the floor and washed his face and blew his nose. He turned off the light and gradually felt his way back to the bed in the dark.
He didn’t know if Starsky had actually awakened or simply sensed his movement, but as he lay down Starsky reached for him and snuggled up. Starsky’s breath was a warm and soft caress against his neck. Hutch turned to his lover as he cuddled in and drew him closer, breathing in his scent. He let the solid reality of holding him chase away the ghosts as he willed time to crawl for the twenty minutes he had until the alarm went off.
Hutch jumped as the music on the radio station awakened him. He reached to silence it quickly before it disturbed the sleeping bundle against him. He looked down at Starsky wishing he could let him sleep on as well, but there were medications to be taken and muscles to be stretched before he left for work. Rising reluctantly he went to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.
He quietly grabbed clean underwear and went into the bathroom and took a fast shower and dressed. Next he went to the kitchen and threw together a quick breakfast and went to the cabinet to gather Starsky’s medication. Laying everything on a tray he went back in the bedroom.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, open those baby blues. Here’s something to eat before you take your medicine, and have I got some magic fingers ready for you,” Hutch intoned with a lot more enthusiasm than he actually felt.
Starsky groaned and did his usual morning burrow under the covers. Hutch set down the tray and reached to expose the sleepy body. Without the warmth and darkness of the comforter, Starsky opened one eye and fastened Hutch with a look that should have curled his hair.
“You really get off on waking me up every morning, don’t you? Can’t we pretend it’s my birthday and skip it just today?” he whined.
“Nope.” Hutch took a bite of his toast and extended Starsky his. When he was sure Starsky had a grip on it he passed over the glass of juice as well. Hutch sat on the edge of the bed as they ate. Looking over, he smiled and patted a dark-haired leg. “You sleep better last night? The hot bath and PT helped maybe.”
“Yeah, I guess. I had a dream but it must not have been bad, since it didn’t wake me all the way up and I don’t remember it other than you were yelling at me to get down.” Starsky pushed the last of the toast in his mouth and reached for the collection of pills on the tray. He threw them in all at once and chugged down the juice. “I’ll be glad when I don’t have to take that big yellow antibiotic anymore. It makes my mouth taste like a penny,” he grumbled, burping loudly for effect.
Hutch leaned over and kissed him, sliding his tongue in teasingly and briefly, then sat back, assuming a contemplative pose. “Nah, lots better than a penny; a dime, if it’s anything.” Hutch smiled at the look Starsky shot him as he rolled his eyes. “Lie down,” he said, then started singing, “Belly up to the bar, boy, belly up to the bar.” He poured out a small amount of massage oil and rubbed his hands together to warm it, then starting with the left arm, he repeated the process he’d done last night. The muscles felt tighter. “Maybe you should soak in a hot bath in the morning, too?” Hutch offered.
Starsky shook his head, “You’d just have to get up that much earlier and so would I.” He closed his eyes, obviously trying to relax and work with Hutch’s ministrations. When the blond moved across his chest to his right arm it was harder to hide the pain. His breath came quicker and was punctuated with sharp intakes of air through clenched teeth.
“Starsk, this is crazy. It was a lot easier on you last night. Tomorrow morning, I’ll leave the water running when I’m done with my shower and you get in while I’m fixing breakfast. It won’t be any earlier for me and only a few minutes for you. I hate hurting you like this.” He moved down Starsky’s abdomen and slowly down each leg, feeling how the pain had made his previously warm-from-sleep dry skin, now cool and clammy. “Come on,” he extended his hand and Starsky grasped it to turn over on his stomach, but Hutch was pulling him up and out of bed. “Go get in the shower now, loosen everything up so I don’t hurt you so much. I don’t know why I didn’t think about doing that before. Shit, I’m sorry.”
“Hutch, you don’t have time for me to stand in the shower.”
“Ten minutes. Jump in while I finish dressing and take out the garbage. It’s Tuesday.”
Starsky didn’t argue. Instead he hobbled stiffly into the bathroom. The silence, duly noted by Hutch as Starsky left the room, spoke volumes of the pain that the injured man had been enduring. Hutch pulled on his jeans and ran downstairs to drag the trashcans to the street. He climbed slowly back upstairs and slipped on a T-shirt, then poured another cup of coffee for himself and a glass of milk for Starsky, hearing the shower turn off as he did so.
Starsky came out wrapped in a towel. The warmth of the water made his freshly healing scars stand out a bright red. He took the milk from Hutch and drank several swallows before setting it on the nightstand and kneeling on the bed, looking to Hutch to help support his weight as he eased down on his stomach. He wiggled a bit, then let out the breath that movement had caused him to hold, signaling to Hutch he could start now.
His hands started at Starsky’s neck, kneading the warm wet skin and feeling the gradual relaxing of the muscles under his hands. He worked down, using less pressure over the areas closest to the incisions. I remember when you loved to have me do this, and we’d end up with me… He clamped down on that thought as he felt his dick harden with the memory. He continued fighting the arousal as he worked Starsky’s buttocks, concentrating instead on the bruises and the lumps left by all the injections he’d gotten while in the hospital. Finishing with a loud wet kiss to one of Starsky’s ticklish feet, he drew up the covers and whispered in the ear poking out of the wet hair. “Go back to sleep, babe. I’ll call you later. If nothing’s shaking I’ll try and scoot over around lunch.”
“Be careful. I love you,” came the relaxed comment as Starsky’s eyes closed.
Hutch reached for his wallet and holster, then tossed on the short-sleeve shirt.
Starsky’s voice stopped him at the doorway. “Thanks, the shower helped.”
“I’m glad. I love you, too.” So much it scares me.
Hutch snagged his keys off the kitchen counter and left the apartment. The sun was bright and it promised to be another scorcher. He slid into the car and started the engine, logging himself in on the street before reaching the precinct to avoid yet another late arrival to inflame Captain Dobey. He listened with only subliminal interest to the radio transmissions that formed the background noise above the music playing on the eight-track, until he heard the familiar, “Zebra Three, come in.”
“This is Zebra Three,” Hutch answered, the irritation of the voice that had summoned him made him wonder how many calls he hadn’t heard.
“I thought I told you to get here ON TIME this morning.” Captain Dobey’s growl was almost measurable on the Richter scale.
“I logged in on time, I just got caught in a little traffic snarl. I helped push a stalled car to the utility lane just before Pico. Things are moving now, I should be there in a few.” He closed his eyes and frowned at how easily the lie came.
“See that you are. HQ out.”
He parked the car and took the stairs two at a time. He hated to think how hot the car would get parked where it was, but he couldn’t park in their old spot in the garage. Not yet, maybe not ever. He rearranged the keys in his pocket and headed for the coffeepot when he saw Dobey’s office door open out of the corner of his eye. Turning, he motioned with his cup and gave the black man his sunniest smile. Get me through this, God, without letting me be a jerk to this guy. Dobey’s right, it isn’t his fault.
He entered the office with his coffee. Looking toward Dobey’s cup he said, “Want fresh coffee, Captain?” Looking at the man seated, he raised his eyebrow. “You?”
“We’ve got coffee, Hutchinson, thanks anyway. Sit down please, and close the door.” Dobey’s mouth was set in that fine line that said ‘save the Boy Scout bit for the stranger.’ “This is your temporary partner, Steve Bussell. Bussell, this is Ken Hutchinson.”
Hutch sat and reached for Bussell’s extended hand. His grip was firm without being overbearing and his smile was genuine. Hutch took in what he could without being overly inspecting and liked what he saw. Steve looked a little younger than Dobey had reported his age to be, with a fair complexion and reddish-blond, slightly curly hair. He had green eyes that looked like they wouldn’t miss much. His smile was easy with an air of relaxed humor that hinted he’d laugh just as easily if the joke were on him. He was well built with a freckled tan, dressed casually in jeans and a polo shirt under a lightweight jacket with the sleeves pushed up.
“Glad to meet you,” Steve replied.
“Same here,” Hutch leaned back, immensely relieved that Steve hadn’t mentioned any artificial concern over his permanent partner. Maybe Dobey gave him the how-to-survive-with-Hutchinson-minus-Starsky lecture.
“I’d like you to drive around your area, so Steve can familiarize himself with it, point out some of your contact places and people, and let him get to know the place. Then after lunch come back here, and get a report from Zebra Five on an arson investigation that resulted in two deaths. You’ll off-load that case from them.” Fixing Hutch with a hard stare, Dobey asked pointedly, “Any questions?”
Hutch had already started to stand and did an innocent double-take in response. Dobey’s look clearly told Hutch to ‘save it,’ and he heard Steve’s soft chuckle as he turned to leave the office.
“Let me make a phone call and we’ll go,” Hutch tossed off as he stopped at his desk.
“Hey, no sweat, take your time. I’m going to go get a locker and throw in a change of clothes. I’ll be back by the time you’re ready.” Steve picked up a gym bag from the floor and moved away.
Hutch dialed the number and smiled his “Hello” as Starsky answered.
“What would you like for lunch? Looks like I’ll be able to get away, but I won’t be alone,” he amended.
“New partner?” Starsky asked, trying with marginal success to make his voice sound less depressed than he no doubt felt about the circumstance.
“Yeah. You can give him the once over, but try not to scare him to death the first day, okay?” Hutch replied.
“You want to come by and get me and we’ll all go get something, or you want to stop and bring it home?”
“I’ll stop and get something and we’ll eat there. Stick a couple of sodas in the freezer. See you soon.” Hutch was just hanging up when Steve returned and the two men left the squad room.
Hutch drove around their beat area, pointing out people and places of interest, ending up at The Pits. He parked the car and got out. It had been a pleasant couple of hours. Steve had been generally quiet, and when he did make a comment or ask a question it was well thought out. Hutch was feeling better about this temporary assignment than he would have ever thought possible. They entered the cool darkness of The Pits and each stopped inside the door to allow their eyes to accommodate. Huggy stood behind the bar, signing in a consignment of alcohol, and looked up with a smile of greeting as the two men approached.
“Hey, Hutch, how’s it going?”
“Pretty good, Hug. This is Steve Bussell. He’ll be working with me until Starsky gets back on his feet. Steve, this is our number one source of information on the street. If you can’t get it here, you can’t get it.” Hutch smiled as he picked up a handful of peanuts from the bowl close by.
Huggy extended a slender hand and offered a stage whisper, “If you can put up with this guy while his better half is healing, you can be partnered with anybody.”
“I think maybe that’s the idea,” Steve replied good-naturedly.
“We’re going to take lunch to Starsky. You want to make up three specials to go?”
“You bet.” He leaned toward the kitchen and screamed, “Three number threes and wrap ‘em.”
Steve strolled over to the pinball machine and dropped in coins for a game, leaving Hutch with Huggy at the bar.
“Seems like a nice enough fella. How you taking this?” Huggy asked.
“I was really mad about it yesterday when Dobey forced it on me, but you’re right, he is a nice guy, not pushy. He seems to be accepting of the temporary situation and isn’t trying to make it anything otherwise. He hasn’t offered any artificial junk about ‘I know how it is when your partner buys one.’ That’s really the thing I was dreading.” Because unless you’ve been there, nobody knows.
“Well, good, I’m glad to hear it. I know Starsky’s been really worried about you not having anybody to watch your back. Maybe he can relax about that much anyway and use the energy to get better himself.” The cook slid a large bag through the kitchen window and Huggy passed it over. Hutch reached into his pocket to pay and Huggy waved his money away. “My treat today. Tell Starsky it’s my get well present.” Hutch smiled and took the bag, casting a sidelong glance at Steve who stood silently next to him.
“Thanks, Hug, I’ll tell him.” He turned and started toward the car. “We don’t eat here for free,” Hutch stated matter-of-factly as they reached the car.
“Okay. I didn’t say anything…” Steve started.
“I know you didn’t. I just wanted to get that straight and out in the open. Normally, we pay for everything. Huggy is more than just a snitch, he’s a friend. Pushing it by insisting he take the money would have…”
“Insulted the spirit of the offer,” Steve finished. “I understand.”
“Yeah,” Hutch smiled and relaxed as he drove toward home.
“How does your partner feel about you having someone else right now?” Steve asked quietly.
“He’s thrilled. He hated the thought of me working alone. I was the one who was…” He stopped, unsure of how to remove his foot from his mouth.
“Reluctant?” Steve laughed easily. “Yeah, I heard. It’s okay. I would probably feel the same way if I were in your shoes. I just wanted to be sure your partner knew already and we weren’t springing it on him now.”
“Yes, he knows. I told him last night and he’s really okay with it. He worked with a temporary partner a while back when I was out with a bum shoulder.”
“Good, I didn’t want to be Sidney Poitier in ‘Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner.'” Steve’s voice had a laughing quality when he was teasing that Hutch liked.
Hutch opened the door and held it as Steve passed in front of him. He motioned for the man to put the stuff on the kitchen table as he shut the door and added his own bags to the pile. “Make yourself at home. Napkins and paper plates in the top left cabinet by the stove if Hug didn’t put in any. I’ll go wake Starsky.”
“Hey, if he’s resting that’s okay. Let him sleep, don’t wake him up on my account. I can meet him another time,” Steve hastily answered.
“That’s okay, he needs to take some medicine now anyway. He can handle it better if he eats along with it.” Hutch tossed the remark over his shoulder as he entered the bedroom.
Hutch pulled up short just past the partition that walled the bedroom away from the rest of the living space, almost bumping into Starsky as he turned around. “Hey, babe. You are awake. Hungry? Huggy sent a special, feel up to it?” Hutch ran both hands through the unruly hair to tame it, taking a sleepy-looking mouth for a quick kiss.
“Smells good, thanks,” Starsky replied, his voice a bit louder than necessary. “You smell pretty good too,” he whispered, while nuzzling at Hutch’s neck.
Hutch wrapped his arms around Starsky, holding him close and burrowing his nose in his mass of dark curls. Starsky’s body was warm and steady and Hutch was filled with an overwhelming sense of thanksgiving. So close, so close to being gone forever. He tightened his grip for a second, then loosened it as he felt Starsky pull away. His dark blue eyes searched Hutch’s quickly, and seeing their answer there, they crinkled in a soft smile.
“I’m fine. You can relax.” Starsky eased himself all the way out of Hutch’s arms, softly punching him in the stomach as he moved past. “We better get out there before your guy wonders what the hell he got himself into being partnered with you.”
Starsky moved slowly toward the dining room table where Steve was unloading the food bags and setting things around. Steve looked up when the two approached and smiled.
“Steve Bussell,” he said, as he extended his hand across the table.
“Dave Starsky. Glad to meet ya. What kinda car do you drive?” Starsky asked as he eased down into one of the chairs and reached for a plate.
“A GTO. Why?” Steve looked briefly to Hutch, then back to the man who’d asked the question.
“What color is it?” Starsky pressed.
“Maroon.”
“Four barrel?”
“Yeah. In a 427.” Steve sensed the game here and began to smile.
“When are you gonna start drivin’?” Starsky asked
“As soon as he lets me,” Steve said around a mouthful of roast beef sandwich.
Hutch looked between the two men and smiled, more than willing to be the brunt of car jokes if it made this new arrangement comfortable for everyone.
Lunch went well, with Starsky spinning tales about Hutch and vice versa. Steve filled them in on his background, with a few snafus of his own from the Westwood Precinct. Even the silences, except for eating noises, were comfortable. Hutch found himself relaxing. He looked at Starsky at intervals, reveling in the energy and animation that, while a shadow of the norm, was such a step above recent days. He glanced at his watch and picked up his plate, taking it and Starsky’s to the trash.
“As much as I’d love to sit and chew the fat, we’ve got to get back before Dobey sends out the hounds.” Hutch came back to Starsky’s side of the table with three pill bottles in his hand. As he spoke he opened each and shook out the pills, placing the collection in front of Starsky and pulling his drink glass closer.
Starsky looked at the pills, then up at Hutch, an amused look on his face. He tossed the pills in his mouth and reached for the glass, downing them. Then he turned to Steve. “Do you think everybody that grew up on a farm is such a ‘mother-hen?’ Or did I do something really bad in some other life?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never worked with anyone who grew up on a farm. I didn’t realize they were literate. I thought they played in the dirt and did unnatural things with farm animals in their spare time.” Steve delivered the jibe with a perfectly straight face as he stood and put his plate and napkin in the trash and washed his hands at the sink. When he turned around he had such an innocent expression on his face that Starsky grabbed his healing chest with both hands while he laughed out loud.
“Cute, really cute,” Hutch replied, rolling his eyes.
“I wish I could be a fly on the back seat with you guys, this could be sweet. Steve, it’s great to meet ya. Keep him in line, huh?” Starsky stood stiffly, it taking a visible effort for him to straighten all the way up after sitting. Once steady, Starsky extended his hand to shake with Steve after he reached for his jacket off the dining chair and shrugged into it.
“I’ll do my best. You take it easy.” Steve shook his hand warmly, then adjusted his shoulder holster under the jacket and moved toward the door.
“Thanks for bringing lunch by. You guys be careful, ‘kay?” Starsky’s expression was serious.
“You bet. I’ll try to call later. If you need anything…”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine. How much trouble can I get into taking a nap? That’s my big plan for the afternoon,” Starsky groused.
Steve preceded Hutch out the door, allowing Hutch to throw Starsky a wink and mouth ‘love you’ as he shut the door.
Once settled in the car, Steve logged them back in service, then spoke as he hung the hand piece on the radio. “He looked a lot better than I expected him to, hearing people talk about how badly he’d been hit.”
“He’s a hell of a fighter, and he’s doing good. It’s been rough, it still is. He’s nowhere near as strong as he seemed at lunch. He’ll sleep the rest of the day.” Hutch took advantage of stopping at the red light to look over at the passenger seat. “But it was great to see him laugh and have such… be so…”
“Alive?” Steve finished for him.
Hutch pinned Steve with a look, feeling the word twist in his stomach. “Yeah,” he breathed, feeling warmed by the understanding.
“It must be tough on you, taking care of him and trying to work, too.” Steve opened a pack of gum, handing Hutch a piece.
“He’d do it for me,” Hutch replied, thumbing the gum out of the wrapper one-handed as he took a turn onto the freeway.
“Yeah, I’m sure he would. You guys are lucky. Not that many partners mesh so well. Nothing’s better, and nothing’s worse.” Steve’s voice strained and he looked out the window, the muscle in his jaw tightening for a second before it went back to idly working the gum.
Hutch stared as traffic allowed, chewing on the man’s statement, wondering if he should ask. He decided to let it go for now. They rode in a neutral silence, broken only by Hutch’s orientation to the people and places as he pointed out the information Steve would need to indoctrinate himself to working this area.
Hutch drove past the last area of pawnshops and prostitutes before heading back to Metro. They walked side by side into the detective’s area, sparsely populated this time of day. Steve pulled out a desk chair and turned it around to straddle it. “Anything you’re doing I can help with?” he asked resting his chin on folded arms.
Hutch looked up feeling his heart twist at such a Starsky-like gesture, the missing of his other half almost a physically painful thing. “Nah, I’m just retyping a couple of reports I slopped coffee all over yesterday. Why don’t you get that arson file from Dobey and we’ll give it a once-over before calling it a day. Then, you can head out and beat the traffic going home while you’ve got the chance. It won’t happen often,” Hutch suggested easily as he fed a clean report form into the typewriter.
“Yeah, I’ll bet. Okay.”
Steve returned with a thick file and began scanning the contents. He laid out pictures and the transcripts from witnesses and pushed things over to Hutch’s side of the desk one by one. Hutch jotted out a few notes as he read and passed the pages back. With a stretch of his back and a look at his watch he gathered everything back in the original folder. “Well, we’ll know where to start tomorrow. It’s too late to check anything today.”
Steve rose with one liquid motion, reaching to snag the worn Thomas guide off the desk. “Homework,” he said in answer to Hutch’s questioning look. “In case you’re pooped and want to grab a nap, I can drive without getting us embarrassingly lost.” Steve raised the book in a mock salute and sauntered out of the squad room.
You move like a dancer. Starsky moves like a cat. He silently compared the two men.
Turning to be sure Steve hadn’t stopped before leaving the squad room completely, he reached for the resumé Dobey had given him. He scanned over his education, noticing Steve had earned a double degree at UCLA: one in Criminal Justice, the other in Psychology. He looked over the work portion of the resumé, impressed at the citations and awards the man had earned in a relatively short time, culminating in his early promotion to detective. Since that time he’d been paired with only two men. Three months ago he had suddenly requested he be released from a partnership he’d been in for four years. It was granted and he had taken an assignment on loan to Vice, followed by another with the Treasury Department, also on loan.
Looking for a home, buddy? He remembered the words that had caused him to wonder in the car. Nothing’s better, nothing’s worse, wasn’t that what you said?
He read on, not surprised to find Martial Arts listed under the interest section with a black belt rating in several disciplines. That’s how you can move the way you do. His mind could easily picture Steve doing a Kada with grace and beauty. Grabbing a pencil he jotted ‘thanks’ across the top of the folder, scrawled his distinctive signature, then placed the closed folder in Dobey’s mailbox.
He went back to his desk, sliding a second clean form into the typewriter and, working off the soiled coffee-stained ones from yesterday, began to retype. He glanced at the clock as he reached for the phone, dialing the familiar number.
He hummed to himself as he waited for the answer. The smile faded as the rings continued. We didn’t have the ringer turned off when we left after lunch, unless you did it to take a nap, Starsk. Come on, babe, answer the phone. “My stomach hasn’t been in knots for the last hour or so. Too bad it didn’t last longer.” Come on, why the hell isn’t the answering machine picking up? That’s what I got it for. He moved his fingers faster over the typewriter in frustration and was almost ready to hang up and dash home when a foggy-sounding voice finally answered.
“Yeah.”
“Starsky, are you okay?” Hutch’s voice clearly reflected the tension waiting all those rings for an answer had brought.
“Yeah, I’m okay, I was asleep. Did you call before and I didn’t answer?” Starsky’s voice sounded slurred and unfocused.
“No, this is the first time since lunch. I wanted to give you a chance to rest, but it took you so long to answer I was getting nervous. I was afraid you’d run off with the mailman,” he joked to soften the worry he knew he’d communicated with his voice when Starsky had first answered the phone.
“It was the old fat lady today not the stud, so you’re safe.” Starsky fell easily into the familiar banter, but the strength in his voice from lunchtime was gone.
“Did you sleep this whole time?” Hutch asked, concerned.
“Yeah,” Starsky answered around a large yawn. “I would have gotten up soon anyway, I got to pee. When are you coming home?”
“As soon as I finish this one report and get in the car. Do me a favor, will ya? Turn on the answering machine. You don’t have to jump up to answer the phone, but I’ll feel like you heard me, then you can call me back. That’s why I got it, Gordo. You want anything special for dinner?” Hutch asked
“I don’t care, whatever you get’s fine. I’m still full from lunch. I’ll turn on the machine. Be careful coming home. I gotta go,” Starsky whined, reminding Hutch of his need to pee. “I’ll see ya when you get here. Bye.”
Hutch smiled as he let the phone fall off his shoulder, catching it with his hand and hanging up. Finishing the report, he fixed a typo, then pulled it out of the machine, signed it and placed the small stack in the completed file. He checked his box for messages, picking up the slip of paper telling him of the court dates for the upcoming week. He copied the dates over to his desk calendar and folded the paper, putting it in his wallet.
Chinese sounds good, Hutch thought as he jiggled the keys out of his pocket and started home.
Traffic was an ugly snarl from a stalled semi and it took almost two hours before Hutch got to the neighborhood restaurant to pick up the Chinese take-out and headed home. Holding one bag in his teeth as he unlocked the door, he frowned seeing Starsky asleep on the couch. You’re going to be up all night, sleeping so much today.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, dinner’s here. Wake up,” Hutch chided as he passed the sleeping form on the couch.
Starsky opened his eyes and did little more than blink. Hutch filled two plates with the selections and brought them to the coffee table. “Smells great, huh?” Hutch tried to elicit some response. Starsky turned over and struggled to sit up, wincing as his torn muscles protested any movement after the stationary time spent on the couch. Hutch reached down his hand to pull on Starsky’s stronger arm, placing his other hand behind Starsky’s neck to help him upright.
“What do you want to drink? Water, milk or flat Seven-Up?”
“Water,” came the distant reply.
Hutch brought the glasses and sat on the couch next to Starsky, digging into the food. After several bites he noticed Starsky was just picking.
“What’s the matter? Want me to fix you something else? I can scramble some eggs…”
“No, this is fine, I don’t want anything else. I’m not really hungry, I guess.” Starsky made a feeble effort at a cough, winced when it hurt and pushed his plate away.
“Did you use that breathing thing today?” Hutch asked, concerned that Starsky’s color wasn’t as good as it had been at lunch.
“No, I slept most of the time. I think I used it early this morning, I can’t remember. The days all run together.”
Hutch dropped his napkin on the table and stood, stepping over Starsky’s legs. He went to the bedroom and came back with the inspirometer that had been sent home with Starsky from the hospital. “Here, you’re supposed to use this every few hours, just like when you were at the hospital.” He placed it in Starsky’s lap, aiming the tube toward his mouth. “Here, go on, use it. I’ll hang on to you if you need to cough.”
Starsky opened his mouth to protest but the firm look Hutch sent his way aborted it. Starsky drew several breaths in, expanding his lungs as he’d been instructed. He let the instrument fall from his hands and his teeth bit down hard on the mouthpiece as a coughing spasm hit him. Hutch quickly grabbed the small sofa pillow and placed it against Starsky’s chest incisions, hanging on to splint his body as he coughed. It was a loose rattling sound that made Hutch uneasy.
“Take another breath in and blow it all out. That’s good,” Hutch coached. “Now take in another one and cough, cough hard, I’ve got ya.”
Starsky did as instructed. It was a familiar drill they’d done for days in the hospital before coming home. Hutch’s large hands were able to cover more of the painful area than even the nurse’s were. This time the rattling rose and cleared, Starsky reaching for Hutch’s napkin to spit into. Hutch took it from him and looked at it before throwing it away.
“Don’t look at that, it’s gross,” Starsky groaned. “We’re eating, for God’s sake.”
“I had cadaver lab right after lunch in college. You just get used to it.” Hutch returned to sit on the couch and reached for his fork. He continued to eat, ignoring Starsky’s green glances in his direction. “You need to do that during the day. If I have to call you every two hours to remind you, I will. I don’t want you lying around getting pneumonia or a blood clot. You’ll be right back at Memorial.” Hutch smiled at Starsky’s groan but continued. “You don’t have to eat if you’re not hungry, but drink all that water and I’ll get you some more.”
Hutch finished eating and was pleased that Starsky took a few more appeasing bites before pushing his plate away for good. The blond stood and stretched, then cleared off the coffee table and returned with Starsky’s medication and another glass of water.
“Is there a pain pill in there?” Starsky asked as he took the pills.
“No, do you need one?”
“Yes, please.” He rubbed his hand over his chest. “The coughing I guess, plus I haven’t moved around much this afternoon. I’m stiff, everything hurts.”
Hutch brought over the pill bottle and shook one out. “One now and one when we go to bed, or both now?”
“One and one.” Starsky downed it. “How was the rest of your day with Steve?”
“Fine, he seems like a nice guy. I took a second to go over the file Dobey gave me on him, including his resumé. He’s got an impressive record for a thirty-two year old. Made promotion in record time. Graduate of UCLA, black belt in a couple of things. Partnered with one guy for four years, then he asked for out.”
“How come, I wonder?” Starsky asked, leaning back to rest his head on the arm of the couch and bringing his legs up.
Hutch’s hand brought up one of his legs in an assist out of habit, settling them both in his lap. “I don’t know. No indication of any kind of corrective action in his file anywhere that I could find. Did a few weeks’ stint with Vice and a loan out to Treasury, then got the temporary ticket to Metro.”
“Think he’s gonna want to stay there?” Starsky asked, his eyes betraying the casual tone of his voice.
“I don’t know, we’ll see how it works out. If Potter doesn’t get his diabetes under control, he’s going to medically retire before the end of the year. That’ll leave a spot with Truman. We’ll see.”
Hutch picked up the book he’d been reading and hadn’t turned many pages before he heard the sound of Starsky’s soft snoring. He felt his own eyes growing heavy as he continued to read. Better get you in the tub before I’m too sleepy to do your PT. He eased out from under Starsky’s legs and went to run the hot water, the movement yielding barely a mumble. Boy, your act at lunch really wore you out. Even fooled me.
“Starsk, hey babe, wake up. I’ve got the tub ready for you. You can doze in there while you soak.” Hutch verbally summoned his lover as he slowly scooped his feet off the couch to the floor.
“Can’t we skip it tonight?” Starsky pleaded. “Pretend it’s my birthday or something…”
“You say that every time, and once again the answer is no. No way, well lose all the ground we’ve gained and that’ll make tomorrow all the harder.”
“Yeah, but it’ll be tomorrow,” Starsky grumbled, plodding into the bathroom.
Hutch eased down the sweatpants and gave Starsky’s shaved stomach a soft kiss, then held the bottom of the sweatshirt for Starsky to slide his arms down out of the sleeves. Hutch carefully raised the shirt over Starsky’s head and tossed it out of the way as he steadied Starsky’s step into the tub.
“I’m going to get your nighttime medicine and some juice. I’ll be right back. Don’t fall asleep and drown.”
“Ummmm,” Starsky mumbled, eyes already closing.
When Hutch returned, he quickly bathed Starsky, giving him his medicine with the juice. Everything done, he let the water out to drain and pulled his lover to stand. He dried the sleepy man and wiped over the incisions with alcohol as he’d been directed once the dressings could stay off.
“Hey, that’s cold! You could warn a guy.” Starsky’s eyes flew open, blazing.
“Sorry, I thought you might sleep through it.”
“Very funny.”
“Let’s go to bed, one foot in front of the other, come on, you remember how.” Hutch gently propelled Starsky out of the small bathroom and toward the bed. Once positioned, the massage and range of motion went smoothly with only an occasional grimace and barely a groan. Feeling much less like the Marquis de Sade than at any of the previous nights, Hutch got through the PT session without his stomach tied in knots and a rip-roaring headache.
“There you go. Scoot up a little so I can cover you up. I’ll lock up and be right back.”
Hutch returned and stripped, quietly easing himself into bed next to his lover. Maybe we’ll both get some sleep tonight, please.
Starsky snuggled back against him at the dipping of the bed and Hutch rested his hand lightly on the offered hip. His mind fled back to so many nights when they had made love and had fallen asleep still joined like they were lying now, and he felt his dick jump with the memory. Down, boy, it’ll be a while yet, go to sleep.
He wasn’t sure what awakened him. He fought to open his eyes and focus; he thought he’d heard his name called hoarsely. He’d been asleep less than an hour and he felt like he was trying to pull himself out of quicksand He couldn’t make himself wake up. Then he felt the touch of a cold hand and heard his name again accompanied by a wet rattle and a weak attempt to cough. Starsky. He jerked upright in the bed and reached blindly for the bedside lamp, nearly knocking it off the table. “What, I’m awake, what’s the matter?”
Starsky didn’t answer, but when Hutch turned to look he could see why. The man on the other side of the bed was pale and sweating, lips dusty lavender, eyes wide with fear and pain. His mouth was open and he was gasping, air hungry, respirations wet and noisy and way too fast.
“What’s the matter, Starsky, bad dream…?” But even as he asked he knew that wasn’t the issue. “What happened? Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I can’t… breathe… I… can’t…” Starsky was wheezing audibly. The effort to talk at all was taxing what little strength he had.
Hutch placed his hand on Starsky’s chest and could feel the hard pounding of his heart and the vibrations of the rattles in his chest with every gasp. He jumped out of bed and grabbed his clothes off the floor. He threw a robe around Starsky and grabbed the blanket off the bottom of the bed, wrapped that around him as well and carried him out of the apartment to the car. He slapped his light on the roof of the car and sped to Memorial, radioing ahead their ETA.
Orderlies were waiting as he skidded the car to a stop. Starsky was gently lifted out of the back seat to the waiting stretcher and whisked inside.
Chapter 2
Hutch parked his car, then followed into the Emergency entrance. Asking at the desk got him assigned the duty of registering his partner and taking a seat in the waiting room. It was slightly less than an hour later when he was summoned back to the cubicle where Starsky was held.
He walked in, steeling himself for what he’d find. Starsky was lying on a gurney, oxygen mask in place, IV started and looking miserable.
“Hey, buddy. How ya feeling? You look like you’re breathing better.” Hutch came close to the side of the bed to speak softly.
“Yeah. I am… a little. They took a… chest X-ray. That right lung is… filling up, like it did… right after surgery. They… have to tap… the fluid off. I asked… them to let you come… in. I’m bored.” Starsky attempted a smile.
Yeah, right, you’re breathing better; shit, you can’t even make a whole sentence without breaking it to catch a breath.
“I’m bored too, stuck out in the waiting room with a bunch of crying kids.” He sat down on the stool, shagging it up to the bed with his foot as he sat. He drew Starsky’s hand into his and held it securely, relieved to feel it was warmer than it had been.
A man in scrubs and a white lab coat entered. “Mr. Starsky, I’m Dr. Hoover. I assisted the surgeon who took care of you when you were first shot. I know the ER doctor spoke with you, explaining what was going on with the fluid in your lung. I’ll be doing a tap to get that fluid out of there. It won’t take but a few minutes, and you’ll be breathing a lot better. One of the nurses will come in and get everything ready.” The doctor looked at Starsky’s chest and listened to it front and back, then, nodding that the plan was a go, left the room. In a few moments a nurse entered carrying a tray, which she placed on a surgical stand, then opened it. She added sterile gloves and an antiseptic solution to it before she turned to Starsky.
“I’ll need to have you sit up for this, please. I’ll bring that over-bed table here for you to lean over.” Hutch helped Starsky sit up as the nurse positioned the table, putting two pillows on it and helping Starsky get his right arm raised to that level along with the left and lean forward. “The doctor will be right in,” she said as she removed his gown and left the room.
“Stay with me for this, huh?” Starsky asked.
“Sure, if you want me to, you bet,” Hutch promised as he moved the stool to sit in front of Starsky and help support him in the awkward position.
Doctor Hoover entered and moved quickly to the sink, washing his hands before he stepped behind the tray table and snapped on the sterile gloves. “You can wait out in the waiting room, this won’t take too long. Please send in one of the nurses on your way out,” Dr. Hoover said to Hutch without looking up.
“I’ll stay, thanks, but I’ll be glad to call for one of the nurses.” Hutch gave Starsky’s hand a squeeze as he stepped to the hallway and motioned for a passing nurse to come in.
Dr. Hoover looked up as Hutch repositioned himself at Starsky’s head. The doctor started to open his mouth, then, obviously taking note of the firm set of Hutch’s mouth, closed his again without comment. “I’ll numb the skin up first. This will sting for a second.”
Starsky’s hand tightened on Hutch’s briefly, then relaxed.
“That’s the only bad part. It’s a small gauge needle we insert in here. It goes to where the fluid is collecting in the lung and the suction in the vacuum bottle draws it out. There we go, it’s coming now, so we just wait until it stops draining or the bottle fills up and we exchange it for another.” He nodded to the nurse who had put on sterile gloves as well.
She took over holding the needle in Starsky’s back steady while the bottle filled. In a matter of a few minutes the bottle was half full of the amber liquid with a foamy head, looking like beer on tap. The flow had slowed substantially from the pressure at the beginning and Starsky’s color seemed to be improving. His respiratory rate had slowed, and except for a random cough at intervals, he was breathing much easier. Starsky let his head fall forward and it was resting on top of Hutch’s hands where they covered his own. His eyes were closed.
You asleep again, babe? Hutch’s eyes darted between his lover’s face and the bottle as it filled. The flow had slowed to drops now from the steady stream of earlier.
“Have him take a couple of big breaths and cough, please,” the nurse instructed.
“Starsky, open your eyes, you with me?” At a sleepy nod, Hutch continued. “Take a big breath in, that’s right, now another. Okay, now give me a good cough.” Hutch eased his big hands in to press and support Starsky’s chest as he coughed. Starsky coughed weakly at first, then was taken by surprise as a big one hit, causing him to double over in a moan.
“It’s okay, I’ve got ya. You’re okay. Easy, breathe in through your nose, out your mouth. You’re doing great.”
Hutch looked at the tubing leading to the bottle as it spurted strongly again for a few seconds before returning to the trickle, then again to isolated drops. The last few were pink-tinged. The nurse listened to Starsky’s back and side around the needle with her stethoscope. Once satisfied he was clear, she quickly removed the needle and covered the puncture with a Band-Aid. She held up the bottle to see exactly what the total output had been and wrote it on the chart.
“Can I let him lie back down?” Hutch asked, annoyed that Starsky had taken a backseat to the paperwork.
“Oh, yeah, sure, sorry. You can slip his gown back on. He’ll have to wait here for another chest X-ray in an hour and a repeat of his blood gas. If everything’s improved you can take him home. If not, the doctor will come and talk to you about admission.” The nurse cleaned away the tray and left the room.
Hutch leaned Starsky slowly back on the gurney and raised the head of it up a bit. Settling his legs in place he covered him with the blanket. “How’s that? Better?” he asked as he tied the gown behind Starsky’s neck.
“I don’t want to have to stay here,” Starsky groaned, looking at Hutch with fear-filled eyes.
“Hey, you’re not going to have to, you’re doing a lot better. They’ll let you go home, relax now.”
“Yeah, stay with me, will ya? They don’t seem very interested here. Too busy I guess.”
“I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere, babe,” Hutch affirmed, fighting his own anger at the cavalier treatment.
Hutch sat at Starsky’s bedside, struggling to stay awake while Starsky dozed. Looking at the clock and noting that it had been almost three hours since the tap on Starsky’s lung was done, Hutch stood up and went to the door. He caught the eye of a passing technician and waved him over.
“My partner was supposed to have a repeat blood gas and chest X-ray two hours ago. Can you check on what the holdup is? If he’s not going to be able to go home, I’d like to get him settled upstairs so he can get some sleep.” And so can I.
“X-ray is really socked in right now because there was a big wreck on the 405. It may be a while. I’ll see what I can find out though. Want me to bring you a cup of coffee?”
“Yes, thank you. That’d be great. Better make it black. Looks like I’m going to need it.”
The young man returned with a cup and an apologetic look on his face. “The coffee looked pretty scary, but that’s all there is. Nobody’s had time to make any for a while. I brought you some sugar for it, and I’d use it if I were you.” Hutch accepted the cup and the handful of sugar packets.
“X-ray?” Hutch asked.
“They know he needs to be done, and they’ll get to him as soon as the trauma room settles down. There are a lot of people ahead of you. I’m sorry.”
Hutch nodded his thanks and understanding and went back to the stool. He sipped the coffee, making a face when he tasted the strong, burnt liquid. Well at least it’s hot. He emptied three of the packets in the cup and cut it once more with a little tap water. Tasting it he grimaced, the taste causing a wave of bile to rise up in his throat as he was transported back to another cup of scary-strong-black coffee with too much sugar. His eyes blurred as he looked at Starsky sleeping and chastised himself for wishing they’d be done here so he could get some sleep. “You didn’t sleep any that night did you, babe? Not for a lot of nights, holding me while I puked or shook or screamed at you. Even after the worst of it was over, you stayed on the couch at my place so I wouldn’t be alone. If I woke up and needed to pace around for a while before I could finally go back to sleep, you’d wake up to be with me. You never complained, then or since. That seems like a hundred years ago.” Hutch whispered the words as he forced down the coffee, determined to stay awake.
It was after four a.m. when Starsky was finally taken to X-ray for the repeat chest film. His blood gas, drawn an hour earlier, had come back vastly improved. By five-thirty they were cleared for discharge and Hutch was driving home. He helped Starsky out of the car and up the stairs, stopping halfway up when the man became short of breath, yet refused to have Hutch carry him the rest of the way. Signaling his willingness to continue, Starsky slowly climbed the rest of the stairs into the apartment and headed for the bedroom. Hutch eased off the robe and brought Starsky’s legs up on the bed and under the covers.
“Want anything to drink?” Hutch asked.
“No, I just want to go back to sleep.” He closed his eyes and eased over on his side.
Hutch glanced at the clock, trying to decide if he’d feel better or worse trying to lie down and sleep thirty minutes until the alarm went off.
“No PT this morning, you can sleep an extra thirty minutes,” came a muffled voice from the bed as if he’d read Hutch’s mind.
Hutch readjusted the clock and fell heavily into bed still dressed. An hour is better than nothing.
“I’m sorry, Hutch.” Starsky’s voice sounded sorrowful.
“For what?” Hutch asked, confused
“I should have told you I was short of breath so we could have taken care of it in the daytime, instead of you having to be up all night. I kept thinking it would go away. I didn’t want to have to go back to the hospital.”
Hutch reached out to draw Starsky into his arms, settling his head against Hutch’s chest. “It’s okay. You’re better, and you didn’t have to stay there. That’s all that matters. It isn’t your fault they were so busy it took all night. It’s okay, shhhh, go to sleep. I love you,” Hutch whispered as he rubbed his hand along Starsky’s side. “I should have listened to your lungs when you coughed up that glob at dinner. I’m the one who should apologize.”
“Can you take a sick day for today?” Starsky asked hopefully.
“Used them all. Besides, I have to be in court in the morning. I’ll be okay. We’ll go to bed early tonight. Ssshhhh.” Hutch felt like he was still talking when the alarm went off.
He silenced it quickly and got out of bed carefully so as not to disturb Starsky. He felt numb and nauseous as he trudged to the shower. He dressed silently, easing his suit coat off the hanger and stuffing his tie into the pocket. He stopped at the bed to listen to Starsky breathing. His respirations were slow and quiet, his color was good. Hutch nodded in satisfaction and kissed the top of the curly head and left the apartment
He stopped at the convenience store before getting on the freeway for a large orange juice and a box of No-Doz. Hutch fumbled with the box, holding the juice bottle between his legs. He shook the box free of the small bottle of pills, then thumbed it open and shook two tablets into his mouth. He pocketed the bottle. A shudder took him before he could swallow the bitter pills, ridding his tongue of the aftertaste.
Steve was at the desk looking over a file folder when Hutch arrived at Metro. He looked up as Hutch approached and his bright smile faltered “Good… morning, I think. Rough night?”
“I spent it in the ER at Memorial. Starsky got in trouble with a pulmonary effusion, one lung filled up with fluid,” he explained. “We didn’t get home ‘til after five.” Hutch walked to the coffeepot filling his cup with a shaky hand, then held it up in a question toward Steve.
“No thanks, just got some,” the blond answered.
“What ya got there?” Hutch asked as he sat at the desk in Starsky’s normal place.
“Going over the arson investigation stuff again. You’ve got court this morning, don’t you?”
“Yeah, at nine.” Hutch rubbed his eyes wearily. “You gonna stay here and go over that?”
“Actually, why don’t I go with you to court, and I’ll take the file and read it while we’re there. That way I can drive today, and you can take a power nap on the way over,” Steve offered casually.
“That’d be great, thanks.” Hutch reached for another file to refresh his memory on the points being adjudicated that morning. He put his hands in his lap between his knees to warm his fingers and tried to ignore the fierce pounding of his heart from the blast of caffeine. He was almost finished reading the information in the folder when Steve stood up across the desk and went to refill his cup, snapping the travel lid on it and touching Hutch’s shoulder.
“It’s almost eight-thirty. Ready?” Steve asked.
“Yeah, let me get a refill and hit the head. I’ll meet you in the… where did you park?” Hutch asked, looking up and dreading the answer.
“In the garage downstairs, so the car wouldn’t get so hot,” Steve replied, moving off toward the door, completely unaware of the effect his answer had on Hutch.
“Okay… I’ll… ah… meet you… in front on the street. I need to get something out of the property room before we go.” Hutch poured more coffee and walked behind Steve, turning in the direction of the bathroom when he cleared the door.
He stood in front of the urinal, carefully keeping his mind blank, then went to the sink to splash water on his face after washing his hands. He faced his reflection in the mirror and shook his head in disgust. No wonder Steve’s smile fell off in chunks when he said good morning. “I wouldn’t want somebody that looked like you watching my back.”
He dried his face roughly and headed to the property room downstairs to check out a beeper. That task complete, he stopped at the nearby wall phone and punched for an outside line.
“Huggy?” Hutch said when he answered. “I’m going to be in court today, I don’t know how long. Can you take lunch over to Starsk and check on him for me? He had kind of a rough night. I laid his medicine out, if you’ll just make sure he took it, and have him use that breathing box, he knows how. That’s really important. I’ve got a beeper on. Let me give you the number. It’s 302-5155. Beep me if you need anything, and leave the beeper number at the house for him too.”
“You got it. Is he okay?” Huggy asked concerned.
“Yeah, I think so. He was having so much trouble breathing last night that I had to take him back to the ER. They drained some fluid off that damaged right lung. I hope it’ll heal now. He looked better this morning when I left. I just hated to leave.”
“You sure you can cut this? Taking care of Starsky all night and working all day? Man, you can’t afford to be so wiped you get careless. Hutch, you listening? They have places where Starsky could go for a little while, just until he’s stronger…”
“No! I’m not putting him in some old folks home to sit around all day watching the other patients drool in their lap. NO! And don’t you mention anything to him about it, you got that?” Hutch snapped.
“I got it, I’m just trying to help,” he replied defensively.
“I know, I appreciate the sentiment, but we’ll be okay. You just help me out today and I hope I won’t have to ask anymore.”
“Hutch, it ain’t that I mind helping. That wasn’t what I meant. I was thinking I didn’t want to be the one trying to hold Curly together if you got yourself blown away. You dig? You ask all you need, I’m here. Go to court, man, I’ll see to Starsky’s lunch and stuff.”
“Thanks, Hug. Thanks for everything.” Hutch hung up the phone and jogged down the hall and up the stairs from the basement to the street level entrance and Steve’s waiting car.
“I was about to send out a search party,” Steve jibed as Hutch fell into the front seat.
“I had to get a beeper and give the number to Huggy so he could give it to Starsky later. I didn’t want to call and wake him now. Hug will take lunch over and check on him for me.”
“Good.” Steve pulled out into traffic and put on a mirrored pair of sunglasses. “He’ll probably be better when you get home tonight. Do you think you’ll be on the stand a long time?”
“All day. There hasn’t been any testimony called for yet. It’s not that far along. It has to do with the hit on Starsky, and all the other charges against Gunther.” Hutch could feel the familiar hatred bubbling in his gut.
“Then you want me to call and check on him before lunch?” Steve asked.
“No, let him sleep as long as he can this morning. Huggy will be there at lunch. Surely they’ll recess by mid-afternoon. I’ll check on him then, thanks.” Hutch turned to face him. “You’re being great about this. I appreciate it, Steve. I don’t know that I’d want to be partnered with me if the circumstances were reversed. I’m not usually wound this tight.”
“Hey, no sweat. I knew what the deal was when I applied for the slot. I’d expect it to come with some baggage. You’re holding up great.” Steve’s forehead furrowed, and he shook his head. “I can’t even imagine.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask, why did you volunteer for this assignment?”
“I went and saw the Dalai Lama on vacation last year. He mentioned something about atonement for past lives…” Steve grinned and gave Hutch’s arm a playful thump.
They entered the courtroom, Hutch going to sit at the prosecution table with the assembly of attorneys there, and Steve taking a seat on the bench directly behind. The morning dragged on with the challenges and clarification of motion points and procedures. At noon the judge signaled a recess for lunch and ordered the reconvening for one-thirty.
Hutch stood and stretched the kinks from sitting. Steve appeared at his side as he moved toward the exit aisle of the courtroom.
“My place isn’t far from here; lots closer than yours. Why don’t we go there, grab some lunch and you can sack out for an hour. You can patch a call home to David on the way.”
“Sounds good. You sure you don’t mind? I mean we can go to a restaurant and I can get a nap in the car.”
Steve rolled his eyes as he put on his sunglasses. “I’ve got a GTO, not a Cadillac. With those long legs, give me a break.” He hit at Hutch’s thigh with his folder and headed to the door.
When they got to the car, Hutch picked up the radio and asked for a patch to his place. Huggy had just arrived and was fixing lunch. Hutch was informed that Starsky was in the shower and, at least to Huggy, appeared to be doing as well as the last time Huggy had seen him. Assured that Huggy would call if that weren’t the case, he keyed the connection closed. Hutch was fast losing the edge from his caffeine and dozed in the warm car before they were away from the traffic of downtown.
The sound of Steve’s door shutting awakened him when they arrived at Steve’s apartment. Hutch found his door opened for him and a hand reaching in to pull him out.
They entered the neat first floor apartment, Hutch reveling in the cool darkness of it.
“The bedroom’s down the hall, and the can is the first door on the right. Sack out and I’ll wake you when lunch is ready.”
“Thanks.” Hutch moved like an automaton to the bedroom, shrugging out of his jacket and shoulder holster as he walked. He tossed both down in a chair and flopped across the foot of the neatly made bed. He glanced around for a second, taking in an interesting picture on the wall and a cabinet in the corner with various trophies in it, several black belts displayed from the corners and a sword leaning against it in an ornately carved black display holder. That was all the curiosity he could stay awake for as his heavy eyes closed and he slipped gratefully into sleep.
A hand shook his shoulder and he turned his face into the smooth coolness of the bedspread to avoid it. It shook harder, accompanied by a voice this time.
“Come on, man. It’s time to go. I stretched out all the time for you I could. I’ve got a couple of sandwiches and a thermos of coffee, you can chow down in the car.” Steve stepped back as Hutch raised his bleary eyes to the man standing over him, then stiffly pushed up and off the bed. A bottle of pills slipped from his jacket pocket as he picked it up from the chair. Steve bent to retrieve it. He glanced at the No-Doz, then extended it to Hutch without comment.
Hutch took it with a nod and full notice of the slight frown on Steve’s face before Hutch shrugged into his shoulder holster and covered it with his jacket.
In the car, Steve passed Hutch the paper bag and rested the thermos on the console between them.
“Thanks, I owe you.” Hutch looked in the bag noticing two sandwiches and an apple. He dug in, suddenly ravenous, and made short work of everything during the ride back downtown. Wiping his mouth with the napkin, he crumpled it up and tossed it in the bag followed by the apple core and reached to refill the thermos cup. “Want some?” he offered.
“No, thanks. I had some before I woke you. I called your place, hope that’s okay. I was letting you sleep until the last second and knew we’d be cutting things tight getting back by one-thirty. Huggy answered. He said to say Starsky was fine, took his medicine and ate good. Dave got on the phone; he sounded like he felt okay. He said he was a little tired. He wanted me to tell you he had the alarm on his watch set for every two hours to do that ‘breathing thing,’ whatever that means. I told him you were sleeping, and he seemed glad that you were getting the chance to catch a few zzz’s. Hope I’m not out of line here. If you want me to butt out…”
“No, thanks, I appreciate it. I’m pretty useless right now. I feel like I’m thinking through soup. Thanks for doing that and thanks for lunch.” Hutch sighed, feeling satisfactorily full in body and soul. It seemed like forever since anyone had done anything to take care of him. It felt good and he soaked up the feeling like a dry and thirsty sponge.
Steve pulled up at the curb in front of the courthouse and stopped the car. “I’ll let you off here. I’m going to talk to a couple of the insurance underwriters for the warehouses that burned. The offices aren’t far. I’ll be back by three-thirty or so in case you knock off early.” Steve smiled and handed Hutch the bag of trash as he got out.
Hutch returned the smile as he took the trash. “Oh, yeah, sorry, thanks. Hey, give me the thermos, there’s still coffee in it. I’ll probably need it, and it’s sure better than that stuff out of the machines.” Hutch took the thermos out of Steve’s grasp, then shut the door. He gave a final wave as Steve pulled out into traffic.
He pitched the lunch bag in the trash by the outside door and waited in line to be cleared by security as he passed through the metal detectors and registered his weapon.
The afternoon dragged on in a drone of interrogatories and legalese until all but one of the jury positions was filled. The twelfth prospective juror was excused because Hutch recognized him as someone he had arrested in a domestic altercation before his promotion to detective. He stretched when the judge called for an extended recess to confer in chambers and took advantage of the time to find a payphone and call home.
He dialed the familiar number and tucked the phone into his shoulder as he used both hands to open the thermos and pour out the remaining coffee.
“Hello,” came a sleepy sounding voice.
“Did I wake you? I’m sorry,” Hutch answered
“Oh, that’s okay, I’ll go right back to sleep. It seems like that’s all I’m good for right now.” Starsky sounded down.
“Hey, it’s what you need to do. You’re busy healing. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Huggy still there?”
“No, he left right after lunch. Thanks for having him come by. You didn’t need to. I can stay by myself.” Starsky sounded piqued.
“I know you can, but this way I feel better knowing you ate and had some company to break up the day. I miss you.”
“Yeah, I miss you too. You done for the day or just at recess?”
“Recess. Maybe they’ll cut us loose early. There’s just one more juror to pick and I don’t think they’ll take the time to start through another round of alternates this late in the day. They’re conferring in chambers now.”
“Steve there with you?” Starsky asked, his voice had a forced casualness.
“No, he’s talking to the insurance companies about that arson murder we got handed. Why?”
“Just wondered. When the phone rang at lunch, Huggy answered it. He was talking when I came out of the shower; I grabbed it thinking it was you. Good thing I didn’t make some crack that would have got us fired. Steve said you were asleep.”
“Yeah, his place was close so we went there so I could crash. He was supposed to wake me up for lunch, but he let me sleep the whole time and fixed stuff I could eat in the car on the way back here. I appreciated it, I was dead meat.”
“Feel better now?”
“Yeah, still fighting to stay awake every time things get too quiet in the courtroom, but I’m better off than I would have been without the nap.”
“I’m sorry you’re so beat. Want me to have dinner fixed when you get home? We can eat early and you can get right to bed.” Starsky said, his voice sounding stronger.
“There’s leftover Chinese there, right?” Hutch asked
“Yeah, and some lasagna that Dobey’s wife brought over just before Huggy left.”
“Sounds great. Yeah, stick that in the oven, thanks. How you feeling?”
“Okay, bored out of my mind.”
“They’re reconvening now, I gotta go. See you as soon as I can get out of here. I may have Steve drop me off rather than going all the way back to Metro for my car. He said he wouldn’t mind driving again tomorrow.”
“Now that he’s seen your car, I’ll bet. Hurry home,” Starsky teased and hung up.
Hutch was walking out of the courthouse into the brightness of the late afternoon sun when Steve drove up. He flashed his badge to the cop directing traffic in front of the building to get waved through to the curb.
“How’s that for timing?” he laughed when Hutch approached and opened the door.
“Hey, if you’re always like that, you qualify as the perfect partner,” Hutch smiled. “Thanks for the coffee; it was a lifesaver.” Hutch rested the empty thermos at his feet.
“Same time, same station tomorrow?” Steve asked.
“For the lawyers, but not me. Some of the motions are being challenged about filing formalities, so it’s closed session, counsel only.”
“Breaking your heart, I can tell,” Steve teased as he gunned the engine to merge on to the freeway.
“Do you mind driving tomorrow?” Hutch asked, then rolled his eyes at the expression Steve passed his way.
“And miss the chance to ride again in your car? Gee, let me see, what’s my choice again?” Steve’s laugh bubbled out clear and easy. “Want me to drop you home now?”
“Yeah, it’ll save some traffic time. We’re just barely ahead of the crunch.”
“No sweat, I’ll pick you up in the morning.” Steve hummed along with the music softly playing in the background over the intermittent static of the police radio.
Hutch dozed in the warmth of the sun coming in his window like a cat stretched out on an apartment ledge and didn’t awaken until the stop and go motion of the car clued him they were off the freeway. He rubbed both hands over his face and sat up. “Sorry, I’m not very good company today,” he said over a yawn.
“That’s okay, quiet is good when it’s comfortable.” Steve pulled up to the curb in front of Venice Place and let his sunglasses slide down his nose to look over them at Hutch. “See you in the morning. Hope you guys have a better night.”
“Me, too. Thanks again,” Hutch replied as he got out of the car and shut the door. He waved as Steve did a U-turn and passed by again, then climbed the steps.
A wonderful odor engulfed him as he entered the apartment to find the table set and Starsky placing a hot tray of lasagna on it. “Want some wine?” Starsky asked as he turned into Hutch’s arms when he hurried over.
“No, just you.” Hutch wrapped Starsky in his arms, nuzzling his nose into his curly hair. “Missed you.” He leaned back to look into the blue eyes of his lover. “Love you,” he said as he leaned in for a tender kiss.
When they parted, Starsky reached up to touch Hutch’s face. “You look beat. Wash up and we’ll eat.”
Dinner was fast and filling, after which Hutch insisted Starsky go sit down while he cleared the table and did the dishes.
Starsky met him in the doorway as Hutch dried his hands and hung up the towel. “Come on, Blondie, let me put ya to bed.” He reached to take Hutch’s hand and led him toward the bedroom.
Hutch groaned in anticipation when he saw the bed and quickly dispatched his clothes to the top of the dresser and slid in between the cool sheets. He held out his arms as Starsky sat on his side of the bed and eased in next to Hutch, snuggling close. Hutch let out a huge sigh relaxing into the bed, then stiffened suddenly. “Your medicine…” Hutch moved his arm and started to sit up but Starsky stopped him.
“I took it already, while you were in the bathroom before we ate. Lay down here. The doctor said lay off the PT ’til my breathing was better so there’s nothing else either of us need to do but go to sleep,” Starsky ordered.
Hutch fell gratefully back, settling Starsky’s head in the crook of his shoulder. “How is your breathing?” Hutch asked as his jaw popped with a big yawn.
“Fine, I’m feeling fine.”
“You sure? I trust you to tell me. I don’t want any surprises like last night,” Hutch warned. He felt Starsky stiffen slightly with his words. “What?” He drew up on one elbow and looked into his lover’s face. “There is something, what is it?”
“I… I noticed when I peed it was a different color than normal.” Starsky started, not meeting Hutch’s eyes.
“What color?” Hutch demanded.
Starsky went on, ignoring the question. “Remember that girl you dated a couple of times that was always on one fad diet after another? She left those sticks that you dip in your urine to see if you’re eating enough protein to turn it purple?”
“Yeah…”
“Well, I went on one of those and…” he stole a glance at Hutch but couldn’t hold it and averted his eyes again.
“And what showed up?” Hutch pressed, trying to keep his voice steady.
“It showed a little blood,” Starsky finished.
Hutch sat all the way up this time. “How little? Where’d you throw the stick? I want to see it.” Hutch tossed back the covers and was moving toward the bathroom as he spoke.
He stormed back out of the bathroom, the offending thin piece of plastic in his hand. “This is four plus, that’s not a little blood. How long have you noticed it?”
“Just today. I called the doctor’s office, and he told me what to do. It’s no big deal, babe. He said…”
“No big deal? You’re anemic as hell and taking medication to try and build you back up; you think blood in your urine is nothing? You’re taking anticoagulants, Starsky. Those are blood thinners. They are dangerous drugs to be on. Blood in your urine is a big red flag…”
Starsky winced as he pulled up to sit on the edge of the bed. “Hutch…” He reached for his hand, pulling Hutch down to sit next to him on the bed. “I talked to the doctor’s office, I told you that. He said not to take the blood thinner this morning so I put that pill back, and I didn’t take it tonight either. He’s sending the home health nurse over tomorrow to draw the labs a day early. It’s okay. I’m not bleedin’ to death, honest.” Starsky looked hard at him. “This is why I downplay stuff. Look at you. It makes you nuts.”
Hutch’s anger deflated. He reached across Starsky to throw the strip in the bedside trashcan. “I’m sorry, I’m not really yelling at you…”
“There ain’t nobody else here,” Starsky interrupted.
“I’m upset at the circumstance.” Hutch looked into Starsky’s calm eyes and tried to continue, but the words caught in his throat and he felt the avalanche of emotions start to fall. The stress of the past weeks, his fatigue and fear over-balanced the last of his reserve and he crumbled. “I can’t help it… I… I… I can’t stop feeling so scared.” His eyes filled and the tears streamed down his cheeks. He reached his hand out shakily to touch Starsky’s arm, then his chest. Starsky took the hand and pulled Hutch closer to him as he wrapped his arms around him.
“I was there…” Hutch haltingly began, “and you were holding your own, even though things were serious, then I left and you…” His voice broke and the sobs shook him. “I got back as soon as I could. Dobey said I’d better get there… I saw that straight line…” Hutch’s hands tightened in the oversized T-shirt Starsky was wearing. “I’ve been terrified to be away from you ever since. I’m afraid I somehow helped you cheat death then and he’s… just waiting… to catch me off guard and take you… for real this time.”
Hutch’s sobbing was harder and Starsky inclined his head like he was straining to understand the words. Hutch ran his fingers over Starsky’s face, in his hair and down his arms, as if memorizing his beloved body. He felt Starsky bring his hands up to wipe off Hutch’s face and hold it steadily between his hands. “I love you, babe. I’m right here; I’m not going anywhere. You can relax.” Starsky spoke softly as he steered Hutch’s head down against his shoulder and held him as he cried.
Hutch wasn’t sure when they had both moved to stretch out again. He just registered that they were, and reached to pull the covers over them. Starsky’s arms loosened enough to allow the movement, then tightened again. And the doctor said you’d be riding an emotional roller coaster, looks like I’m doing it for you. Hutch turned his face to place a kiss on Starsky’s neck and smiled as he felt him turn into it. Starsky’s hand moved from Hutch’s chest down across his flat stomach, fingers light as a whisper.
“I love to touch you, you know that?” Starsky’s voice sounded warm, the breath as he spoke moving in Hutch’s hair. The fiery trail of his fingers sent their warmth directly to his groin.
Starsky eased his hand down lower to rub across Hutch’s cock. The touch ignited him into a full-fledged blaze and his cock jumped, rock-hard, toward Starsky’s hand. Hutch’s breath caught in a sharp hiss as Starsky wrapped his hand around the length of him and pumped. “Oh, God, that feels so good Starsk… you aren’t ready…”
“No, you’re right, I’m not. I’m taking way too much stuff to have an interest in any action right now, but you’re ready. You need this, babe. Let me do this for you. Slide up a little,” Starsky instructed, easing a pillow down to rest his chest against. He kissed Hutch’s stomach and moved to engulf his erection with his mouth.
The hot wetness hardened Hutch even more and he felt his muscles tremble at the incredible sensations Starsky was giving him with his mouth. “Ohhhhh,” Hutch moaned and laid his head back, releasing himself to the exquisite sensations. He gently moved his hips toward Starsky’s mouth so Hutch could do most of the work. He opened his eyes to watch Starsky’s mouth take him, sliding wetly up and down, his cheeks indented with the sucking. “I’m so close… oh babe, just like that. Oh yeah…” The sight added to his passion as he felt his balls tighten with the impending release. Starsky must have felt it too as he moved his long fingers to roll Hutch’s balls down and hold off his orgasm.
“No, I’m ready, let it happen.” Hutch ran his fingers urgently into Starsky’s hair, encouraging him to take more of Hutch’s straining cock. Starsky eased back, tracing over the ridge with his tongue, licking feather light strokes at the slit and spreading the pre-come there. Hutch was panting and started to sweat. His hands clutched and released in Starsky’s hair, his shirt, the blankets, or anything within reach. He raised his hips up, searching for more contact with Starsky’s mouth. Starsky kept his distance. He used one hand to squeeze tightly around Hutch’s iron shaft and the other to trace comforting circles across his abdomen and down his shaking legs.
“Easy baby, we’ve got plenty of time. Enjoy it, relax.”
“Please, do it, let me come, I… need to… so bad, Starsky. I’m so hard it hurts. Do it, do it now, baby. Please…” Hutch tossed his head back and forth on the pillow. He forced his eyes open to watch Starsky’s face. Making contact with Starsky’s eyes, he saw the triumph there as Starsky eased off his hand’s pressure on Hutch’s cock and slowly slid him back into the deep recesses of his hot mouth. Hutch watched as Starsky swallowed him, the intense pleasure of sight and feel taking him over the edge. He screamed as he came, spurting powerful spasms into Starsky’s waiting mouth. He shook all over with the force of it, still shaking as Starsky’s mouth slipped off his softening cock. He gasped as Starsky’s lips passed over his sensitive head.
Starsky kissed Hutch’s thigh and belly, then stiffly crawled back up to the head of the bed. “Think you can sleep now?” he asked, sounding immensely pleased with himself.
“I’m not there already?” Hutch asked, still breathing hard.
“Almost,” Starsky rested his head against Hutch’s chest and that’s the last thing he remembered.
He heard the music from the clock radio’s alarm off in the distance and reluctantly forced himself awake to silence it. He rolled over on his back and let his hand move to the other side of the bed, confused when he found it cold and empty. He bolted upright, heart pounding. “Starsky!” he yelled as he threw back the covers and was halfway out of the bed when a sleepy apparition padded from the bathroom.
“What?” Starsky answered, scratching his belly where the hair was growing back. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and saw Hutch clearly, his face registering how frightened Hutch looked. “Hey, I thought we got past all of that last night?” He walked over to slip his arms around Hutch’s waist where he stood frozen next to the bed and rested his ear against Hutch’s chest. “Your heart’s beating like a jackhammer.” He leaned back and looked up into Hutch’s face. “We need to talk some more when you get home tonight. You gotta let go of this. If it’s this bad now, when I’m safe and sound right here at home, what are you going to do when I’m running around the back of some joint while you kick in the front door?”
Hutch felt the blood drain from his face and he got light-headed. He swayed and sat down heavily on the bed. “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully.
“I have to get cleared by the department’s review board, physically and emotionally. We better hope they don’t want to talk to you again. Those few sessions you had with the department shrink were a joke and we both know it. They might let me come back but they’d put an end to our partnership, that’s for sure. They’d label us ‘enmeshed’ in a New York minute. I don’t want that to happen, babe. I don’t want to be on the street with anybody else but you.” Starsky sat down next to him on the edge of the bed. “Do you want to talk to somebody? Somebody private that you can really feel free to tell them everything? You think that would help?”
“No!” Hutch answered more sharply than he’d intended. “No, I… can deal with it. It’ll get better. I’m just still a little wired, that’s all. I’ll stop taking all the No-Doz now that you’re sleeping better, and I’ll catch up on my sleep. It’ll be okay.” He looked up at Starsky and leaned away from the hard anger he saw forming there.
“You’re still taking that shit?” Starsky’s voice was icy. “You promised me you’d quit that when I was still in the hospital and I noticed you having the shakes so bad. You lied? You still been belting yourself with that much caffeine every day? And what were you going to do when that wore off and didn’t help anymore, hit the streets to score some reds?”
Starsky’s words hit him like a slap. “What the hell are you thinking?”
“I’m not thinking, Starsky,” Hutch shouted. “I’m just trying to make it through the fuckin’ day. Getting through one day and one night at a time, the best way I can.” Hutch pushed up off the bed and headed for the shower. He ignored Starsky’s call that he come back, instead slamming the door to end their conversation.
Hutch stood in the shower, his anger burning like a wildfire. His fatigue and fear continued to fuel it and he moved out of the bathroom to dress with his jaw set and eyes narrowed.
Starsky was waiting, still sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry I made that crack about the reds,” Starsky’s voice was calm and quiet. “It was a cheap shot,” he remarked as he stared at his hands.
“Maybe that’s not all you’re worried about me scoring on the streets, huh?” Hutch fired back, his eyes blazing to propel the words.
Starsky’s head snapped up, eyes wounded. “Okay, we’re even. That was a cheap shot, too.” He stood and planted himself at the opening of the bedroom alcove, blocking Hutch’s escape. “Look, I worry too, you don’t have the market on that. If I didn’t love you…”
“Don’t!” His index finger aimed at Starsky’s face. “Don’t give me that shit. My folks prefaced every fuckin’ thing they ever said to me with that line.” He brushed past Starsky and out to the kitchen.
Starsky slowly followed, moving up close to Hutch as he shook out Starsky’s pills. “I can do that,” Starsky offered.
“How you gonna feel after you’ve pushed to open five bottles with these childproof things they package everything in?” He thrust a bottle of pills toward Starsky, who took it. “Go ahead, wise ass, try it.”
Starsky settled the top of the pill bottle in the palm of his hand and pushed in to turn it. He winced as his chest muscles protested the effort but was unsuccessful. Undaunted he switched the bottle to the other hand and tried again without success. He took a deep breath and was about to try again when Hutch took the bottle away from him.
“Don’t be stupid, give it here,” Hutch sighed, easily opening the bottle and shaking out the pill. He set it back with the others and picked up the last bottle. “Don’t take these, they’re the blood thinners.” He moved the small bottle to the other side of the sink on the windowsill. “Call the doctor’s office and make sure they’re going to send the nurse out to draw your blood today. If there’s any chance she can’t get here, I’ll come by and take you over at lunch.” Hutch turned to look at Starsky when he didn’t reply. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes. I’ll take care of it.” Starsky met the stare with a guarded look that twisted Hutch’s heart.
Hutch tried to ignore it and hold on to his anger in self-righteous stubbornness as he turned to pour his coffee, but couldn’t do it. Laying the cup down he stepped to where Starsky still stood and drew him into his arms. “Come here.” Starsky let himself be hugged and even brought his arms up to rest around Hutch’s back but there was an uncharacteristic stiffness there.
Hutch sighed into the mass of dark curls and tightened his arms. “I’m sorry. Let’s forget about this whole morning and start over, okay?” He leaned back to look at Starsky’s face. “Good morning, partner. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Starsky replied softly, returning his face to rest against Hutch’s shoulder, his stance more relaxed as he leaned into the hug.
The sound of a car horn honking broke the mood and Hutch pulled away again. He cupped Starsky’s face and gave him a coffee-flavored kiss. “Don’t forget to call the doctor’s office, please. Let me know what they say, okay?”
Starsky nodded and dropped his arms from around Hutch, letting him grab his coffee and head for the door, snagging his holstered gun and jacket. Starsky moved toward the door himself, taking the cup Hutch held between his chin and chest, while he wiggled into the holster and jacket.
“Thanks. See you later, babe, I’ll call when I get a chance. Have dispatch radio me if you need anything and to tell me whatever the doctor says.” He leaned over and gave Starsky another quick kiss and hurried out the door.
Hutch smiled his greeting and slid into the seat of the GTO, accepting the brown bag Steve offered after he was settled.
“I stopped at this great bagel place. Since I had a super seedy, I got you one in self-defense so the onions wouldn’t make you ready to shoot me by lunchtime.” Steve laughed his easy laugh as he gunned the car away from the curb and down the street.
Hutch reached in the bag and took out the warm seedy bagel, already split and spread with veggie cream cheese. He took a bite and said, “Thanks, this is great,” around a mouthful. Settling his coffee between his knees he reached for the clipboard to initial the check-off sheet and date it for the day.
They were almost halfway to Metro when the radio announced, “Any unit in the vicinity of Hawthorne and Beach, silent alarm at Hoover Electronics. Please acknowledge, any unit responding.”
Steve pointed his thumb back over his shoulder, questioning if a change of direction was needed. When Hutch nodded the reply, Steve did a U-turn and floored it. Hutch slapped the Mars light on the roof and tightened his seatbelt. You drive like Starsky; he’d love riding with you. The word “enmeshed” returned to haunt him and he shook himself to get rid of the thought No way. If you come back, Starsk, it’s as my partner or not at all. I’ll quit for good rather than have them separate us.
“Control, this is Zebra-three, we are responding.” Steve dropped the mic in the seat. “Best way to get there to take Sixth over to Hawthorne and down?” Steve asked.
“Yeah,” Hutch smiled. “I’m impressed. You have done your homework.”
Steve gave a short chuckle. “No date last night, had nothing else to do but memorize maps.”
The radio informed them that Zebra-five was also responding to the same address.
Steve pulled the car up to the curb, angling it so it blocked the alley as an exit as well. Hutch heard Steve radio their 10-97 as he opened the car door and moved slowly toward the building, Magnum drawn. Steve followed, his own snub-nosed .357 in his hand. The second police car arrived and Hutch motioned them to the front while he and Steve eased silently down the alley to the rear of the building. Steve crossed to the far side of the alley and moved with a silent grace that Hutch envied. Hutch froze when Steve flattened himself against the wall and held out his hand to stop.
“Panel truck,” Steve mouthed to him, crouching and moving back to Hutch’s side of the alley. “I can go up the ladder and get above him, or you can. How do you want to play it?” Steve whispered.
“I’ll go up the ladder. That exhaust fan running up there will muffle my movements; you’re quieter than I am down here,” Hutch whispered.
“That’s just because you’ve got such big feet,” Steve teased.
“You know what they say…” Hutch grinned as he left the rest of the innuendo dangling. Steve did a small double-take and let out a chuckle over his shoulder as he moved silently down the alley.
Hutch holstered his gun long enough to jump for the bottom of the fire escape ladder and ease himself up the rungs to the roof. Hutch walked as softly as he could over the roof, squatting down by the skylight to look inside the building below. He watched as two men carried a large box of electronic equipment out the door to the truck, then stiffened as he saw the third man inside turn abruptly toward the front door, and begin firing at the two officers from Zebra-five. Hutch scampered over to the edge of the roof as he saw the two men below roughly throw the box they held into the open truck. The larger of the two pulled out a shotgun before slamming the doors. Steve approached from the alley, gun drawn.
“Police! Hold it right where you are,” Steve shouted, then fired and rolled as the shotgun erupted in his direction.
Hutch shouted, “Drop the gun.” He pointed his Magnum at a can’t-miss range and was amazed that the man wielding the shotgun turned and fired instead. Hutch ducked to the side as the shot went wild, hitting the clay shingles on the roof and sending the splinters into his face. He was aware of the sound of gunfire below him as well as more inside the building and somewhere to his right on the adjoining roof. He rubbed his eyes against his shoulder to clear away the tears streaming from the dust and debris, aimed and squeezed off a shot. It was true and dropped the man below with the shotgun. He ran his hand over his face to clear his vision again as he looked for Steve. The man inside the building ran out firing behind him, then headed to the driver’s side of the truck.
Steve stepped smoothly out of the shadow of the building and dropped the fleeing felon with a flying kick that reminded Hutch of something from a Bruce Lee movie. Hutch stood and looked over the edge of the roof, seeing the other man who’d been carrying the box lying equally still on the far side of the truck. Simmons and Babcock from Zebra-five approached the bodies carefully from inside.
Steve looked up to the roof where Hutch stood, face flushed and smiling, until he appeared to notice the blood running down Hutch’s face. Then his eyes widened and he jumped easily to the top of the dumpster and hoisted himself the rest of the way to the roof.
“Hutch, you okay?” He ran the short distance, grabbing Hutch’s arm to drag him down to sit on the roof with one hand while the other reached into his back pocket to bring out a handkerchief. He wiped the blood out of Hutch’s eyes, raking his fingers through his sticky hair to find the source.
“I’m okay, it’s just little cuts from the roof’s brick.” Hutch took the handkerchief and wiped at his eyes again.
“Hold still, damn it.” Steve adjusted Hutch’s head so he could continue his investigation in his blond hair. He snatched the handkerchief out of Hutch’s hand and pressed it tightly against the bleeding area he’d finally uncovered. Trapping Hutch’s head between his hands, Steve leaned back on his heels to search Hutch’s face for any signs of further injury. “Are you hit anywhere else?” Steve’s eyes continued searching.
“No, I’m fine, the bullet didn’t hit me, it just splintered the shingle.” Hutch replied trying to pull away from the pain the pressure on his scalp was causing.
“Stay put! I’ll have the bleeding stopped in a second. Want to have them call an ambulance for you, too, or you want me to drive you?”
“Drive me where?” Hutch asked looking up, puzzled by the fear visible in Steve’s green eyes.
“The hospital, idiot. You’ve got a couple of inches of open scalp here that need to be shut so your brains don’t leak out all over my car.”
Hutch brought his hand up to investigate the injured area but Steve raised his elbow to deflect it. “Yes. It needs stitches, trust me on that. Move your hand. If I let go now you’ll still be bleeding. Be still.”
“You guys okay up there?” Simmons called, after he and his partner had disarmed and cuffed the men below.
“Yeah, Hutch got hit with some flying debris off the clay shingle. I’ll take him to the ER. How are those guys down there?”
“One’s still out, the other’s coming around. Number three has a GSW to his shoulder, he’s okay.”
“There’s another one on the catwalk to the roof next door. He ain’t moving though,” Steve yelled, pointing in that direction.
“I radioed for a meat wagon. You sure you don’t need one, Hutch?”
“I’m okay,” he called down, giving in and letting himself rest against Steve’s body as he continued holding pressure on Hutch’s head.
“You got to learn to duck faster,” Steve said teasing, then sobered. “I’m sorry I didn’t nail him before he got off a shot, but that other guy on the roof… I guess he was the lookout while the loading went down. He had you cold. If I hadn’t seen the guy with the shotgun nod to him, I wouldn’t have known he was there either. Your attention was on the guy with the shotgun, too.”
Hutch looked at Steve. “You’re right, I never saw him. Thanks.” He reached up and squeezed Steve’s forearm, leaving several bloody smudges on his jacket. “Oh, sorry.”
Steve looked with feigned horror at the sleeve, then eased his hand off the scalp wound to see if the bleeding would stay stopped. He nodded his satisfaction and reached down to help Hutch up, keeping a steadying hand on him. They climbed down the ladder to the alley, Steve going first and reaching to steady Hutch again as he took the last step and turned.
Steve steered Hutch away from the alley and toward the GTO, calling back over his shoulder. “We’ll meet you guys back at Metro to do the paperwork after they put sunshine’s head back together.”
Steve opened the door and eased Hutch down on the seat. Taking the handkerchief from where Hutch held it, he checked to see the bleeding hadn’t resumed.
Steve went around to get in the car and start the engine. Giving Hutch one final look of concern, he pulled the car away from the building and headed for the hospital. He reached for the mic on the seat and informed the dispatcher they’d be out of service, going to the hospital for treatment. She acknowledged and cleared the channel. Before they’d reached the hospital Dobey’s voice crackled over the radio. “Zebra-three, come in.”
“This is Zebra-three,” Steve answered.
“Who’s hurt?” Dobey growled.
“Hutch got hit with some brick that splintered off the roof when the shotgun fired. It needs a couple of stitches,” Steve answered calmly.
“I want to see you, Hutchinson, when you get done at the hospital. Don’t disappear. Dobey out.”
“Yes sir,” Steve answered and dropped the mic again. “He could have at least said he was glad you were okay,” Steve said frowning.
“He did, you’re just not used to how he says things.” Hutch closed his eyes and leaned his head back, hoping the action would soften the jackhammer pounding in his skull.
“Don’t go to sleep on me, partner.” Steve’s voice and the touch on his arm that followed it aroused Hutch from a doze.
“I’m okay. Just a little headache. Low on caffeine I guess.” He heard Steve’s soft snort at his answer but couldn’t raise the interest enough to reply.
The ER was uncharacteristically quiet when they arrived and Hutch was taken directly back to one of the suture rooms. He gratefully rolled onto the stretcher and threw one arm up over his eyes, wishing briefly he’d taken the time to lower the head down so he wasn’t sitting up so straight. The movement of the walk from the car had made him nauseous. The room was cool and quiet and he was just beginning to feel better when the door burst open, causing him to jump and his head to begin hurting all over again.
“Hutch! Oh my God, what happened?” Starsky’s voice was shaky.
Hutch opened his eyes to look into the white face of his lover. Starsky’s blue eyes were wide and bright with fear. “What are you doing here? Did Dobey call you?”
“No, nobody called me. I couldn’t get a home health visit today so they told me to come to the outpatient lab here to get blood drawn. Huggy brought me. We were just getting ready to leave when I saw Steve moving his car out of the emergency entrance and you weren’t in it. I made Huggy let me out and I caught up to Steve as he was walking back in. Shit, I saw he had blood all over his hands and I freaked.” Starsky was running his hands over Hutch’s face and neck, down his chest “Are you okay?” He brought a hand up to turn Hutch’s face and examined the bloody side of his head.
“Yeah, I’m okay. The guy had a shotgun and he fired where I was standing on the roof. He missed me by a mile but some of the shingle flew up and got me. It’s nothing; you know how heads bleed. I just need a couple of stitches. Where’s Steve?” Hutch asked.
Starsky didn’t answer, but averted his eyes.
“What’s the matter? Where’s Steve?” Hutch asked again, reaching out his hand to turn Starsky’s chin to face him.
“He’s… ah… out in the waiting room, I think,” Starsky answered lamely.
“What did you say to him?” Hutch asked, dreading the answer.
“I… ah… I… was really freaked for a second, I saw the blood on him and…”
“Starsky?” Hutch warned, about to say more when the door opened and Steve entered. He was holding a wet paper towel to his bleeding and swollen lip.
“I just saw the blood… and knew it had to be yours… I… didn’t mean to…” Starsky stammered.
“He didn’t think I was taking good enough care of his partner, and he sucker-punched me,” Steve said, green eyes blazing. “Some time you’ll have to let him know how lucky he is that I know he’s convalescing, or he’d need some repair work himself.”
“Starsk, this was just a fluke thing. If Steve hadn’t been watching, I’d be here with a rifle hole in me, or worse. He took out the guy who could have killed me.”
Starsky absorbed the words Hutch spoke and went even paler. He tightened the grip he had on Hutch’s arm and let out a shaky breath before raising his eyes to meet Steve’s. “I’m sorry. I should have waited to hear what happened instead of flying off like that. I hope… your teeth are okay. I’m… really sorry.”
Steve’s eyes didn’t fully back his comment when he said, “Forget it.”
Hutch closed his eyes and tried to shut out everything and deal with the headache, which was back with a vengeance. It wasn’t long before a nurse came in to get the equipment ready for the doctor to sew up Hutch’s head and both men went to wait outside.
Chapter 3
Hutch sat up slowly after the doctor was finished, gathering his discharge instructions and slip for the follow-up appointment at the clinic for the sutures to be removed in a week. He walked steadier than he felt out to the waiting room, his eyes caught on the neon jumpsuit Huggy was wearing, then fixed on the dark mop of curls next to him. Steve saw Hutch’s approach first and stood, Starsky bringing his eyes up from the magazine he was reading with the movement. He stood also and walked in Hutch’s direction. Steve caught the movement behind him and deliberately slowed his pace to let Starsky join Hutch first.
“All done? How do you feel?” Starsky asked, voice light but eyes all business.
“Little headache, but that’s all. You didn’t have to wait around. Huggy should have taken you home.” Hutch looked past his partner to where the black man sat still draped over a chair.
“I tried to do just that,” Huggy defended.
“Go on home, Starsk, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“As soon as you can, my ass. You’re coming now,” Starsky blurted as he reached to propel Hutch by one arm.
Hutch resisted the movement. “I’ve got to go back to the station. Dobey wants to see me. I’m okay, it’s superficial. I never lost consciousness or anything. Give it a rest,” he finished more sharply than intended, then regretted it as he saw Starsky reflect the hurtful comment back to him.
“Go home with Hug, I won’t be long.” Hutch reached out to rest his hand on Starsky’s face, changing direction to run it down to his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. Starsky’s look left no doubt about his frustration at the situation, and he shot a glare in Steve’s direction as he and Huggy passed on the way to the car.
Hutch folded his papers and placed them in his back pocket. When he looked up Steve had moved closer. “Want to wait here while I go get the car?” he asked.
Hutch looked down at the dried blood on his hands. “Yeah, let me wash my hands, and I’ll meet ya.” Hutch walked to the bathroom and washed his hands and dried them, using the moist paper towel to wipe over his face and down his neck, pulling the sticky and stiff material of his shirt away from his skin there. Have to soak this when I get home. He fanned the wet towel in the air to cool it, then pressed the coolness over his eyes briefly before tossing it away and walking out to see if Steve had pulled up yet.
Once settled in the car, Hutch glanced at the driver noticing how he teased the swollen lip with his tongue at intervals. “Want to stop and get something to drink? The ice in a soda would probably help,” Hutch suggested.
“I’ll get some when we get to Metro. I want to get you there and home before Starsky gets his shorts in a wad.” The smile Steve shot him softened the inflection. “It’s a good thing I met him the other day and liked him, or this afternoon would have turned out way different. Not knowing who he was when he came up and spun me around and swung, I coulda hurt him.”
Hutch had the mental picture of Steve’s immediate dispatch of one of the men in the alley and he had no doubt. “I’m glad too,” he muttered.
The trip to Metro was an exercise in futility. Dobey took one look at Hutch and told Steve to get him out of there. Whatever he wanted would wait until Monday. Hutch stopped at his desk long enough to check if he was on the court roster for Monday, and seeing that he was, he sighed and sat down to do the report on this morning. Steve took the chair opposite him and silently began typing too. Steve pulled his report sheet out of the typewriter and signed it, then got up to come and read over Hutch’s shoulder. He had his face close enough to Hutch’s that the smell of his after-shave registered with recognition as a brand that Hutch sometimes used also. He had a flash of memories the scent brought to mind far removed from alcohol and disinfectants, blood and bandages. God, when am I going to get my life back?
“Stop with the sentence you’re on and just add ‘see report filed by Detective S. Bussell’ and you’re done,” Steve offered, smiling when Hutch nodded his approval.
Hutch removed his page, signed it and allowed Steve to place them both in Dobey’s box.
“Let’s go. You’re starting to look like you’re fading.” Steve reached out a hand quickly when Hutch stood and wavered.
In the car, Hutch sat back in the seat and closed his eyes against the bright late afternoon sun shining offensively into his side of the car most of the way to Venice Place.
“Want to come in? Have a beer?” Hutch asked. “I don’t know what’s there to eat, but I can always call for a pizza.”
Steve hesitated for a moment, then set his jaw stubbornly and turned off the car. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
Hutch trudged upstairs, wondering to himself why he’d asked Steve up when all he wanted was just to go to bed and sleep for a week. He pushed open the door and was surprised to see Starsky awake and waiting on the couch. His lover sat up and was pushing off the couch with a grunt when Starsky saw the figure behind Hutch enter too. Starsky hesitated slightly, then continued his momentum over to Hutch. While Hutch was shaking loose from his jacket and unsnapping his holster, Starsky was moving blond hair around to check out the area that had required sutures.
“I’m okay, ouch, quit!” Hutch pushed Starsky’s hands away, irritated. “Want a beer, Steve?” Hutch asked, heading to the kitchen.
“Yeah, thanks. Are you hungry, Dave? How’s a pizza sound?” Steve asked, accepting the beer from Hutch with a nod. “My treat. Where’s a good place that delivers around here?”
Hutch peeled a pizza-shaped magnet off the refrigerator door and, giving a soft whistle, sailed it to Steve who caught it easily, then looked around for the phone.
“What do you want on it? I’m easy.” He looked questioningly at Starsky.
“We usually get the ‘blow-out.’ Tell ’em it’s going to Venice Place. They’ll put a little of everything all over it but go heavy with the vegetables on one side and the meat on the other,” Starsky answered with an exaggerated politeness, glancing frequently to Hutch who maintained his stiff-backed silence.
“Sounds great. Anchovies too?” Steve asked.
“Yeah, on the meat half. Hutch doesn’t like ’em,” Starsky answered with a shrug and moved back to the couch to slowly sit down.
“I’m going to jump in the shower while we wait and stick my shirt in to soak. Be back in a second.” Try not to kill each other. The tired blond plodded off down the hall to grab his robe.
He emerged feeling better after the shower and was relieved to hear exuberant conversation over the sounds of a basketball game on TV. Nobody drew new blood, that’s a good sign. Hutch went into the kitchen to dump his empty beer can in the trash and reached in the fridge for another. He called out to Steve who indicated the empty can on the table and the fresh one in his hand. “Starsky?” he asked, offering a can as a formality, expecting Starsky’s pain pill consumption would mandate a decline.
Starsky held up his hands as if to catch one and when Hutch’s mouth opened and closed with a dark frown, he grinned and waved him off, exposing the joke. Hutch smiled and gave him a playful poke as he sat on the arm of the couch next to his lover, urging him to move over closer to Steve to make room on the couch for Hutch to slide in.
Starsky pointed his left arm toward the TV as he loudly berated the official’s lack of a foul call. A cotton ball from the lab draw earlier taped to his arm caught Hutch’s eye. He captured the waving arm and removed the tape with a quick pull, frowning at the large purple bruise under it. “Did the doctor’s office call and tell you how your blood test was?” Hutch asked.
“Yeah,” Starsky jerked his arm away and scratched absently where the tape had been. “Don’t take the blood thinner tonight or the rest of the weekend and do another blood test on Monday morning.”
“Is your urine still bloody?” Hutch asked softly and concerned.
“I don’t think so. Will you get your head outta your ass, ref?” Starsky yelled at the TV.
“Will you check it with one of those strips tonight?” Hutch requested quietly.
“Yeah, sure.” Starsky turned then, responding to the quiet concerns and gave Hutch a love-laced look that did more to relax him than both of his beers.
The knock on the door signaling dinner caused Steve to hop up and head for the front door as he fingered his wallet out of the back pocket of his tight jeans. He came back to the couch, wallet between his teeth and juggling two large pizza boxes. Starsky reached for his own wallet from the coffee table, only to have Steve wave it away.
They ate in a comfortable camaraderie Hutch would never have expected given the fireworks of a few hours earlier. He rose to go to the kitchen with a smile and a shake of his head. He returned with Starsky’s evening medication, registering the need to take care of that detail as he felt himself fading from fatigue, stress and beer. He sat down heavily, shaking his head at the offer of more pizza and rubbed his neck and temple as the headache from earlier began to resurface.
Steve observed the motion and began to consolidate the leftovers into one box and clean up. Hutch stood to help and was struck by an unexpected increase in pain, accompanied by a wave of dizziness. He paled visibly. Steve abruptly dropped the empty box he’d been ready to take to the trash when he saw the arm Hutch reached out to steady himself with was going to miss the back of the couch by a mile. “Easy, big guy. Dave would die trying, but I don’t believe he’s ready to pick your ass up off the floor.”
“Guess I got up too fast. Probably should have passed on the last beer,” Hutch muttered as Steve eased him down on the couch.
“Yeah, or the one before that, or the one before that,” Starsky agreed caustically.
Hutch leaned back, bringing a shaky hand up to his forehead in obvious pain. Steve stared a moment, than asked Starsky, “What have you got here that’s caffeinated?”
“Huh?” Starsky asked, confused at the question. “I don’t know, why? You mean besides coffee?”
“Yeah, something cold like chocolate milk, iced tea, Mountain Dew?”
“There’s Mountain Dew in the fridge, I think.”
“Good, that’ll help the headache. I suspect it’s more caffeine deprivation than the result of the splintered shingle,” Steve continued as he walked to the kitchen. “It happened first thing this morning and he’s usually hitting the coffee pot pretty heavy until mid-afternoon.” Steve returned with the can. “I don’t think he took any of those caffeine pills today, so he’s really behind what’s his norm…”
“You aren’t encouraging him to take that shit are you?” Starsky challenged.
“Hell no! It’s just an observation. I figured he needed it to stay awake during the day since he wasn’t getting any sleep at night.” Steve looked hard at Starsky for a moment, then extended the can to Hutch. “Here, buddy, drink some of this, it’ll help.”
“What is it?” Hutch asked, trying to focus on the can.
“Caffeine,” Steve answered softly.
“No, I… ah, I promised…” Hutch tried to hand the can back.
“Drink it,” Starsky cut him off with a snap, then softened. “See if it’ll help your headache.”
“You can’t come off as much caffeine as you’ve been putting away all at once, dummy,” Steve said lightly. “Trust me, I’m the son of a doctor.”
Hutch took a sip, making a face after drinking some. “I hate Mountain Dew.”
“Yeah, well, tonight it’s your best friend,” Steve laughed. “More if you can. It’ll help, I promise.” Steve turned to Starsky. “I need a couple of bags of frozen peas, com, whatever you got. Can you get them, please?”
Starsky nodded and moved to the kitchen.
“Come on, Hutch, think of it as medicine and get it down.”
Hutch opened his eyes and took a deep breath to steel himself and chugged the contents, handing back the empty can with a shudder.
“Good boy. Now let’s get you and curly here to bed so I can take off.” Steve hoisted up the tall blond and propelled him toward the bedroom with Starsky close behind.
Hutch skinned out of his sweats, leaving the T-shirt and briefs on as he fell heavily into bed. Steve took the bags of frozen peas from Starsky and slipped one inside the pillowcase, fitting it under Hutch’s head at the back of his neck, then resting the other one against the injury of earlier today. Hutch sighed with the relief the ice and caffeine were bringing.
“How you doing?” Steve asked Starsky. “Anything you need before I go?”
Starsky looked back toward the living room.
“I’ll put the leftovers away and toss the trash on my way out. Want me to pull the bed out of the couch?”
“No, I can get it, thanks. It’s easy,” Starsky lied.
“Just follow me to lock up, huh?” Steve said.
“Okay,” Starsky looked back at Hutch. “Be right back,” he said and followed Steve out of the room.
Wish you guys had killed the lights before you left, Hutch thought, his head pounding.
He felt the bed dip and opened his eyes, seeing the room dark now except for a small shaft of light coming in under the blinds. He wondered when he’d dozed off.
He turned over carefully, adjusting the cold packs and waited for Starsky to move up against him in their usual sleep formation. As Starsky snuggled in, resting his arm across Hutch’s waist, Hutch reached to lace their fingers together.
“I had Huggy drive my car to the lab this morning to run the engine some. I heard the radio dispatching back up, shots fired and officer down. Then I heard the call for an ambulance. All I could think of was what if it was you?”
Hutch tightened his grip on Starsky’s cool hand. “Babe…”
“I couldn’t get past thinking how the hell was I gonna handle it if something happened to you and the last words we’d said to each other were the angry ones from this morning.” Starsky moved closer. “I’d never get over that. Never! I guess that’s why I lost it, seeing the blood on Steve and knowing you were hurt, but not knowing how bad.”
Hutch felt the shudder pass through Starsky’s body. “I’m sorry I lost my temper this morning. It was a rotten day for both of us. Tomorrow will be better,” Hutch promised, bringing Starsky’s hand up to his lips.
“I love you,” Starsky whispered, his voice not quite steady. “I really do.”
“I love you, too. It’s gonna be okay.”
“I know this is tough on you. Trying to work and take care of me and do everything around here.”
“It’ll get better,” Hutch encouraged. “Go to sleep, baby.” Please go to sleep, so I can.
Hutch was almost asleep when Starsky spoke again. “I was pretty rattled when I got back here. My… mother called… to check on me. I told her we were doing okay. I guess she still knows a lie when she hears one. She’s… she’s coming to help. I tried to talk her out of it, but the more she talked the more it didn’t seem like such a bad idea. She gets here Sunday afternoon.”
Hutch froze, not even breathing. He was instantly transported to another time and place.
“This is second place.”
“Yes sir.”
“You let someone beat you?”
“I didn’t let him, I did my best.”
“I guess your best wasn’t good enough, was it?” His father’s words from years ago echoed in his aching head as clearly as if it was yesterday.
“I sorta misled her when we talked to her in the hospital; telling her that it was no big thing. So she was pretty mad when I told her the truth. We’ll both have hell to pay for a little while, but she’ll get to cookin’ and cleanin’ and be happy as a clam. She’ll get over it,” Starsky rattled on.
Hutch’s whole body was cold. He felt colder than he could remember feeling in a very long time. He knew he was starting to shiver and tensed against it. He held his teeth tightly clenched, fighting the chatter that threatened there and it made his head hurt worse. He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain and the cold, only half-listening to Starsky as he went on. So when the room fell silent it took him a moment to notice.
“Hutch…?” Starsky whispered “What’s the matter? Are you okay?”
He couldn’t answer, afraid if he unlocked his jaw against the shaking he’d say things he wasn’t prepared to voice out loud.
“Hutch, talk to me…” Starsky pleaded, sitting up with a groan to reach for the bedside lamp and flip it on.
“Hutch?” A hand touched his shoulder and meant to roll him to his back, but he resisted, lurching forward to get up out of the bed instead.
“I’m sorry… I t-t-tried… I did the b-b-best I could… I-I-I wanted to… t-t-t-take care of you.” Hutch was standing in the dim light of the bedroom shaking from head to toe and hating himself for the loss of control.
Starsky squinted against the light, bringing his hand up to shield his eyes for a second until they accommodated. When he got a good look at Hutch, his face crumbled and he pulled on the edge of the mattress to lever himself upright. He walked toward Hutch as slowly as if he were approaching a jumper on a rooftop.
“Hutch, it isn’t your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong. You’ve been taking great care of me. I’m alive because of you. I couldn’t have made it without you. I’d have given up. It hurt too bad. You were the one who gave me the strength to keep going. I asked her to come to help us. You need a break. You’re back at work now. You need to be able to concentrate on what you got to do out on the streets, not thinking if you laid out my medicine or if I have a doctor’s appointment that day.” He stepped close enough to reach out and take Hutch in his arms. Starsky wrapped his arms around Hutch’s waist.
Hutch buried his face in Starsky’s curls and closed his eyes. “I’m tired, Starsk. I don’t want to talk anymore. Can we just go to sleep now, please?” Hutch’s voice was thin and shaky.
“Sure, come on to bed.” Starsky pulled back to search Hutch’s face with probing blue eyes. “This isn’t about me thinking you let me down. It’s not that at all. I swear.” Long fingers swept over his face and Hutch closed his eyes at the touch.
I want to believe you, Oh, God I do. Tears escaped beneath his lashes and Starsky thumbed them away, his lips planting soft kisses over Hutch’s face. Hutch felt his mouth taken in a soft, gentle kiss. Starsky’s tongue swept over his lips requesting entrance and, once given passage, sought out his tongue to thrust and parry. Starsky leaned away, his eyes dark with emotion as he took Hutch’s hand and led him back to bed.
Starsky sat down carefully on the edge of the bed. Raising his legs and leaning back stiffly, he pulled Hutch to him, settling his head in the crook of his left arm. Hutch rested there, holding himself slightly away for fear of putting pressure on something that would hurt.
“Give me your hand, babe,” Starsky requested softly. When Hutch complied, Starsky wrapped Hutch’s arm around his waist below the incision so the weight of it wouldn’t be uncomfortable. “Go to sleep. I’ve got ya,” Starsky soothed, running his fingers lightly up and down the arm Hutch rested across him.
***
Saturday morning heralded itself with an unignorable summons from a full bladder, and Hutch slipped quietly out of the bed to go to the bathroom. He looked at the haggard face in the mirror and wondered not for the first time who the hell looked back at him.
She’s coming tomorrow, he thought with a depressed resignation. Okay, what do I need to get done today? Groceries? Better only get a few things. She’ll get all those Italian things Starsky likes and would rather pick them out herself. Clean? I need to mop the floors and change the sheets. SHEETS! Where the hell is she going to sleep? “Maybe Huggy’s got a rollaway.” He turned and plodded out of the bathroom feeling even more depressed.
Starsky was starting to move like he’d be awake soon, but Hutch left the room rather than go snuggle him awake, as would have been the Saturday morning norm.
He went about the routine, making coffee, setting out Starsky’s medicine, then grabbed the trash can to clean out the refrigerator, pitching any leftovers they weren’t likely to be eating today. He glanced up to see Starsky leaning over the door to see what he was doing. His hair stood out in all directions and he was in the middle of a huge yawn. Hutch smiled in spite of his dark mood at the sight of his lover, looking for all the world like an eight-year-old after he’d stayed up too late the night before.
“Mornin’. I heard you get up, thought you’d come back to bed but you came out here to play the anvil chorus instead. What are you doing?”
“Getting things ready for company,” Hutch replied, with more of an edge to his voice than he intended.
“It’s not company, it’s just my mother. You don’t have to do anything special.” He yawned again, bringing both arms up to stretch and aborted the motion with a yelp.
Hutch’s head snapped up from inside the refrigerator at hearing the yell and was met with a sheepish grin.
“I keep forgetting I can’t stretch yet. Sorry.” Starsky shook his head in disgust. “It’ll sure feel good when I can. How many days did the doctor say to hold the PT?”
“Two,” Hutch answered. “Starts back today.”
Starsky pulled the chair away from the kitchen table and sat down. “What do you want to do today?”
“Get ready for your mother! Know anybody who’s got a rollaway bed? Or were you planning on having your mom sleep in the middle?”
“Maybe the Dobey’s have one of those blow-up ones, with the kids having friends stay over, ya think?”
“We can ask. Give him a call. We’ll wait until a little later to ask Huggy if the Dobey’s can’t help. If we come up empty we can go rent one, I guess.” Hutch finished throwing away the questionable things and tied up the plastic bag. “Maybe that would be best anyway. I can’t see your mom being able to get up off a blow-up bed laying on the floor.” He headed outside with the trash, leaving Starsky moving toward the phone.
“Great, thanks, we’ll stop by sometime today. No, no, we can come get it. I’d like the chance to get out. Yeah, cabin fever. Thanks again.” Hutch listened to the end of Starsky’s conversation.
“Dobey’s have one?” Hutch asked as he entered.
“No, that was Steve. He called to see how we were doing. When I mentioned the mission for the day he said he had a big over-stuffed chair in his living room that made out into a single bed. It came from his father’s office after he sold his practice to teach. He said it wouldn’t take up as much room as a rollaway, and he’s right.”
“Good, did you get directions?” Hutch asked.
“No, you were there the other day, I thought you knew…”
“I was out on my feet. I have no idea where he lives. I’ll call him back; shit, I don’t have his number at home. Let me call the office.” Hutch picked up the phone and got the number from the dispatch secretary and wrote it in his address book, sliding it back into his wallet, then entered it into the Rolodex in the kitchen. “It’s in here too if you ever need it,” Hutch informed Starsky as he tapped the Rolodex. He reached into the cupboard and grabbed a box of cereal and shook it in Starsky’s direction with a raised eyebrow.
“Nah, you eat the stuff for livestock, I’ll have the Sugar Smacks up there,” Starsky answered with a grin.
Hutch brought both boxes over with bowls and spoons and set them on the table. He met open and loving blue eyes as he did so and leaned over to kiss the lips on that face, then pulled away feeling a wave of overwhelming sadness.
“What’s the matter?” Starsky asked, his smile after the kiss wavering. “Why the black cloud? I brushed my teeth before I came out here.”
Hutch turned away to get the milk and moved slowly, hesitantly, back to the table and sat down. We can’t do that with your mother here. I need it and I’m gonna miss it. “Nothing’s the matter,” Hutch lied. “I guess I’m just still tired from yesterday. Eat, before that stuff gets to be all soggy sugar in the bowl.” Hutch fixed his own cereal and began eating, hoping his deflection of the real issue had been successful. He stole a glance at the man next to him and was pinned by a solid look that said clearly Starsky hadn’t bought it.
They ate in silence, an atypical air of awkwardness present.
“Why don’t you take a shower first,” Hutch said, breaking the silence. “I’ll call Steve and get directions to his place. I’ll see what time would be best for him if we come by today. Then I’ll mop the kitchen floor and jump in the shower too. When I’m out we can do your PT and if you feel like riding along, go get the chair.” Hutch looked up for an answer.
Starsky nodded and pushed up from the table. “When you’re ready to tell me what’s really going on, I’m ready to listen.” He hesitated for just a second. With only silence as an answer, Starsky moved off toward the shower.
Hutch grabbed the phone and dialed Steve’s number, clearing the dishes off the table with a dangerous stretch of the phone’s cord. “Hi, sorry I missed your call, I was taking the trash out. I hear you’ve got just what we need for the upcoming visitor.”
“Yeah, it’ll fit in your place a lot easier than trying to squeeze a blow-up or a roll-away in there,” Steve offered.
“You sure it’s no trouble? I hate to take the furniture out of your living room.”
“It’s no big deal, or I wouldn’t have offered. It’s pretty comfortable. My dad used to crash on it if he was stuck late at the hospital and too tired to drive home, or if he had a nap attack between patients during the day. He’s a pretty big guy and he didn’t complain, so it must have been okay. He certainly would never have made it trying to sleep on his exam table,” Steve recounted with his easy laugh.
“He really is a doctor?” Hutch asked. “I thought you were kidding last night.”
“Yeah, he really is. A trauma surgeon. He sold his practice a couple of years ago so he and my mom could travel. She had a cancer scare a few years back. They say they think they got it all, but you never know. I guess my dad didn’t want to have any regrets if it came back. He teaches at UCLA and is on staff at Cedars. He still works as much as he wants to, but he’s free to take a chunk of time whenever they get the urge to go off together.”
“Sounds like a man who has his vertical alignment in the proper order.” Family before money. God, what would it have been like to grow up that secure?
“He’s a good guy. You’ll have to meet him sometime.”
“I’d like that. So when is a good time to come by and get the chair? I don’t want to screw up any plans you have for the weekend,” Hutch asked.
“Hey, I’ve got no plans other than doing some laundry so I have underwear, and seeing if Pittsburgh can get their ass out of the slump they’re in for the game tonight. Come by. If I don’t answer the door it’ll be because I’m in the laundry room or the shower. Just come on in. I’ll leave the door open.”
“Okay, give me directions. I don’t remember much about the trip over the other day.”
“Why am I not surprised? You were snoring all the way home.” Steve’s voice sounded like the smile that Hutch could see clearly as the man gave Hutch directions to the apartment.
Hutch filled the sink with hot water and soap and washed the small kitchen floor quickly, rubbing his knees as he got up from the last area and tiptoeing over to rinse the sponge and let out the dirty water. He stretched the kinks out of his back and headed for the shower.
Starsky was just finishing his shave, shaking the water out of the razor and drying off his face. Hutch stepped up behind him, nuzzling the soft warm skin and planting a sweaty kiss on Starsky’s neck before reaching in to turn on the shower and peel off his shorts to get in.
Starsky was lying on the bed waiting for him when he stepped out of the steamy bathroom and rounded the corner toward the sleeping alcove. Outlined by the dark blue sheets, Starsky was a sight that Hutch’s body couldn’t help but respond to, and from the smug look on Starsky’s face he knew it too. Hutch stood still, trying to turn off the hardening at his groin as he watched Starsky run his hand down his chest and stomach to his own groin and fondle the semi-erect cock nestled there.
“What are you doin’?” Hutch asked, waning between amusement and irritation.
“Trying to get your undivided attention.” Starsky pumped his fully erect organ a few times and raised his head up to look at it. “Hey, look what’s working again.” He looked back to Hutch, eyes dark and sultry. “How about that?”
“Knock it off. You’re nowhere near ready for that,” Hutch replied, wrapping the towel around his waist. “Turn over so neither of us are tempted.” Hutch got the massage oil out and sat on the bed, waiting for Starsky to comply.
“We could be really careful…”
“NO!” Hutch’s shout removed all doubt. “Turn over and let’s get this over with. You’re being dumb offering something that would hurt you if we tried it now. So stop it.” Hutch clenched his jaw and took a deep breath to get his anger under control, deliberately ignoring the hurt look on his lover’s face as he stiffly sat up and rolled over.
“I thought it might put you in a better mood,” came the muffled reply.
“I’m not in a bad mood. Or at least I wasn’t until you started playing games,” Hutch amended as he began rubbing over Starsky’s neck and shoulders, slowly working his way down his back to his legs. He gently stretched the muscles and the joints and when he was finished, he patted Starsky’s ass. “Okay, other side.”
Starsky slowly turned, his erection gone. Hutch warmed up more oil and began with Starsky’s good arm and chest, then reached for the right one. “You’re supposed to start with the arm raises today. Remember? The ones with the soup cans. Feel up to it? Might be good to start now while you’re warmed up and loose.” When Starsky eventually nodded, Hutch got up from the bed, returning in a moment with two unopened cans of soup. “Get square on the bed and put your arms out as close to shoulder level as you can,” Hutch instructed and placed a can in each of Starsky’s hands.
The cans had seemed so light to him when he carried them in, but now in Starsky’s hands, as he lay spread-eagled on the bed, it was as if they had become boulders. Starsky couldn’t make the lift with either arm without bending his elbows and coming up from an angle closer to his body. Hutch repositioned Starsky’s arms and helped him assume most of the can’s weight with the encouragement for Starsky to keep his arms straight. With Hutch helping he was able to do three before the muscles in his arms and chest were shaking with the effort and the pain it caused made him break out in a sweat.
“I think maybe we’d better start that move with no cans first. It’s killin’ me,” Starsky groaned.
“You’re right, give ’em here.” Hutch took the cans and set them on the floor under the bed. He put his hands back on Starsky’s chest to rub the straining muscles there and slid down both arms. He could still feel the fine quivering in the muscles and kept rubbing until it had stopped and Starsky looked less uncomfortable. “Better now?” Hutch asked.
“Yeah, whew. I’ll bet I’m gonna be sore tomorrow.” Starsky started to lean on one arm to slide further up in bed to rest his head on the pillows and couldn’t do it. “Shit!” he exclaimed in pain and frustration.
Hutch gave his head a lift and brought the pillow down to it. “Just lay there and relax. Let me go get some ice. That’ll help.” He came back with two plastic bags wrapped in towels and placed them on each side of Starsky’s upper chest. “It’s going to take time, Gordo. Don’t try to rush things.” Hutch let a smile soften the words.
“Hutch?” the voice was plaintive as Starsky took Hutch’s hand, cool from the ice and placed it on his groin. The shaft sprang to life at his touch. “Please?”
“Starsky… what…”
“Just touch me… it’s been so long since we’ve made love. I know I’m not up to screwing you through the mattress, but please Hutch…”
Hutch closed his eyes, loving the feel of Starsky in his hand, warm and getting warmer. He moved his fist slowly up and down, his mind conjuring thoughts of moist, warm, silk over steel. “Okay,” he sighed. “But let me do all the work, promise?” The hardness in his hand jumped as his answer and Starsky let out a long whispered moan that had nothing to do with pain.
Hutch pumped a few more times then leaned down to blow his warm breath over the head he held. He felt Starsky tense in anticipation as he moved closer to run his tongue around the head, licking under the ridge and down the veins to the nest of curly hair. He licked back up to the slit and teased there a second before another groan from Starsky reminded him that prolonging this might not be a good idea. He opened his mouth and swallowed him whole, sucking hard and cupping Starsky’s balls to gently roll them at the same time. Hutch saw Starsky’s hands clutch the sheets and felt him move as he bent his knees to get more of a purchase with his feet flat on the bed to thrust up into Hutch’s mouth.
“Oh God, Hutch, that feels so good. I was beginning to think I’d never feel anything there again. Oh, baby, do it, yeah, I am so ready.”
Starsky’s head was moving slowly back and forth on the pillow, his breathing beginning to quicken. “Oh yeah, almost. Hutch… put your fingers in me; I need to feel you. Oh God, now, do it now.”
“Hutch… HUTCHHHHHHH.” Starsky groaned his orgasm through gritted teeth and as the spasms slowed and stopped, his hands fell boneless from their grip in Hutch’s hair.
“Oh babe, that… was great, thank… you,” Starsky panted. Eyes still closed, he reached blindly for Hutch.
Hutch moved up to stretch out next to him, drawing him close and planting kisses on his face and neck. He watched Starsky’s breathing with concern. I guess that’s as good a way to inflate his lungs as using that machine. Sure is a long way from what we had before. His cock ached, remembering the strenuous sessions of lovemaking that rolled them all over the bed and left them both barely conscious. God, I miss it. He tried to relax a bit and kissed Starsky again full on the mouth, breaking away quickly to give him more access to air.
“That was great.” Starsky opened his eyes and turned a totally sated, fuzzy blue-eyed gaze on Hutch. “Let me do you…” He started to reach out but Hutch caught the hand.
“I think you’ve had all the action you need for right now. Just lay there and catch your breath, okay? I’m fine.”
“What’s the matter, Hutch? Don’t you love me no more?” Starsky whined with a half-serious look to the tease.
“Yes, I love you,” Hutch replied seriously. “With all my heart. That’s why I’m going to make you rest.” Hutch kissed the pouting mouth again, gently arranged the ice bags in place, and pushed up off the bed. “Rest while I get dressed, then we’ll go get the chair, okay?” He turned back from his dresser where he’d grabbed clean underwear and was stepping into them when he saw Starsky was already asleep. Yes, I love you. More than I can ever make you understand. So much it scares the hell out of me. Hutch pulled a pair of jeans off the shelf in the closet and a T-shirt from a pile next to them and slipped quietly out of the room.
He finished dressing and went back into the bedroom. He took a look at Starsky sleeping soundly, mouth open in a soft snore. “Sleep baby, I’ll go get the chair,” Hutch whispered, quietly picking up his wallet and keys off the dresser.
He took the time to scribble a note in case Starsky awakened while he was gone and grabbed the paper with the directions on it Steve had given him over the phone.
He found it easily and squeezed into a parking place and went to knock on the door. Not hearing any answer he tried the knob as instructed and found the door to be unlocked. He entered the apartment and looked around, listening. His mind registered hearing the shower shortly before it stopped, so he sat down to wait. He heard the bathroom door open and got a whiff of the smell of soap and moisture drifting in from the hallway. He stood up and stepped away from the couch with the idea he’d let Steve know he was there to avoid startling him, but his good intent was poorly timed.
Steve was naked. His muscular body moved gracefully, the ample endowment of his dick hung loose and swung slightly as he walked toward Hutch. Steve was towel-drying his hair, most of his vision obscured. At the sound of Hutch’s steps he dropped the towel and executed a roundhouse kick to Hutch’s chest that flung him against the wall. Hutch saw it coming and turned sideways at the last second so that the major impact of the kick was deflected, but he still hit the wall hard enough to see stars briefly as he slid to the floor.
Steve was on him before he landed, two fists full of shirt as he raised Hutch’s face to meet his and squinted at it.
“Hi,” Hutch offered weakly, around trying to get a bigger breath in past the spasm of his diaphragm.
Steve squinted harder. “Hutch?” He blinked and started laughing as he pulled the sprawling form upright. “I’m sorry, man. I am so sorry. I don’t have my contacts in and I didn’t know who you were.” Steve ran his hand over Hutch’s chest and face as if trying to feel if he had truly hurt him. “You okay?” he asked.
Hutch nodded, “Yes, I think so. I saw it coming but I couldn’t move and yell to you at the same time.” Hutch joined him in the chuckle. “Next time I’ll yell when I come in the door.”
“Let me get my glasses. Shit, are you sure you’re okay? I could have hurt you, man.” Steve walked over to the coffee table and squinted down at it, then moved toward the kitchen table to look there.
Hutch spotted a pair of thick glasses on the kitchen cabinet near the stove and picked them up, holding them out tentatively. “Here, I’ve got them.”
Steve fumbled at the hand Hutch extended and slid the glasses in place, then carefully inspected Hutch all over again. “I’m blind as a fuckin’ bat without these or my contacts. My dad keeps after me to try the corrective surgery to see better, but I’ll wait until it’s been around in the U.S. for a while. I don’t care how great it is in Russia. He’s afraid I’ll lose a contact out on the street.” He shrugged and dropped his hands away from Hutch. “He’s right. I just hate to admit it.” Steve smiled and then looked down, seeming to just notice he was naked. “Let me grab a pair of shorts. Jeez, Hutch, I’m so sorry. I feel really bad.” Steve’s voice faded away as he retreated into the bedroom.
“Can I get you a beer, soda, back brace?” Steve offered, grinning, as he returned wearing tight white tennis shorts. The color accented his tan. His chest and flat abdomen were dusted with soft looking golden hair.
“Beer, thanks. I’m okay, honest.” Hutch cleared his throat and purposely made his gaze fix on Steve’s face.
“How’s Starsky?” Steve asked, as he opened the beer bottle and passed it to Hutch, keeping one for himself.
“Good. Speaking of sorry, he feels bad about yesterday. He had Huggy drive the Torino so the radio was on. He heard us responding to the call. Then after he had the labs drawn he was back in the car hearing the call for an ambulance to that same location. He was pretty fried by the time he saw you.”
Steve nodded his understanding and took a long drink of the beer. “I told him yesterday to forget it. I meant it.” He laughed. “I just mean it with less reservation today.” He brought a finger up to touch the still slightly swollen lip. “So Starsky’s mother’s coming. That’s good. How long she gonna stay?” Steve asked, leaning against the arm of the couch.
“I’m not sure.” Hutch’s black mood must have conveyed itself clearly because Steve reacted with a surprised look.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you get along?”
“Yeah, we do, she’s a great lady. I just…” Hutch stopped, not able to tell the truth but not wanting to lie to this man who was fast becoming a friend.
“I’m surprised she hasn’t been here before now. If it had been me, you couldn’t have gotten rid of my mother with a bazooka,” Steve finished and slid down the couch arm to flop on the cushion, giving Hutch carte blanche to talk about it.
“Starsky’s mother hasn’t been in the greatest health lately. He didn’t want to worry her and make her sicker. So we sort of…”
“Lied,” Steve supplied.
“Yeah. She knew he’d been hurt, but we never gave her any indication of how serious it had been. If she’d known she’d have been here in a heartbeat. Seeing Starsky that way would have been really tough for her. Starsky was afraid it would have been too much, and I agreed. Not letting her know when he was hurt was something he wanted from way back when we first became partners. So this wasn’t anything new, just more serious.”
“So why did he come clean now?” Steve asked. “He did come clean, right? He’s not going to try and make her think he’s okay, is he?”
“Yeah, he came clean, all right. We’ll both have hell to pay for lying to her when she gets here.” Hutch shrugged and sat down too. “He thought having her here to help with the stuff at the house and taking care of him would make things easier for me.” Hutch’s mouth formed a grim line. “I thought I was doing okay taking care of him. I guess not,” he grumbled.
“Hey, you better not let Dave hear you say that,” Steve commented wryly. There was a smug smile on his face that softened when Hutch turned to face him.
“Hutch,” Steve went on sincerely. “You’ve done everything that could have been done for Dave since he was shot. More than anybody in any circumstance I have ever been exposed to, and I used to make rounds with my dad when I was a kid. I’ll bet you my last dime this isn’t that Dave felt he was getting the short end. I think it’s because he was afraid you were.”
“You don’t understand…”
Steve moved off the couch to sit on the coffee table directly in front of Hutch, put down his beer and rested both hands on Hutch’s forearms. “I read the report and I looked at the shots from the surveillance cameras in the parking garage. It wasn’t your fault, Ken. There wasn’t any indication that you missed and there wasn’t anything you could have done faster that would have made any difference. The only way it would have been different would have been if it was your turn to drive and you were on that side of the car. But it wasn’t your turn, it was Starsky’s, and when they opened fire he was the first one hit.” Steve met his gaze steadily.
Hutch’s mind snapped back to the day he’d watched the same surveillance film. Dobey had tried to discourage him from watching it so soon after Starsky’s cardiac arrest, but Hutch had been brutally adamant. He needed the information it had to give. Needed it to bring down those responsible, needed it regardless of the cost to himself. Even now the memory made him shudder, the grainy images never too far out of sight in his mind’s eye.
“Why did you do that? Watch the film, I mean?” Hutch asked, confused, heart pounding. He could feel his body tense up like a bowstring, and with Steve sitting so close and touching him, there was nowhere to run. Where did all the air in the room go?
“I wanted to know who I was getting paired with. I don’t have a death wish. I needed to know if you were sloppy or stupid.” Steve’s hands tightened on his arms, commanding his attention. “You’re neither. So cut yourself some slack, my friend.”
Hutch leaned back against the couch, his arms sliding out from under Steve’s hands. You don’t understand what we are to each other, and I can’t tell you. “It’s hard, we’ve been together a long time… it’s…” Hutch met Steve’s eyes and took in the rueful smile on the younger man’s face.
“You’re really lucky. I envy what you’ve got, I sure do.” Steve gulped down the rest of his beer. “I thought I had that in my partner, but… I was wrong.” Steve sat back.
Hutch’s head shot forward, his mouth suddenly dry. He searched the calm green depths facing him. Envy what? What the fuck are you trying to say?
“Why did you bale out of a partnership you’d been in for four years?” Hutch asked warily. He saw an odd expression flicker across Steve’s face, then the calm reformed.
The shuttered eyes relaxed in a crinkled smile as Steve stood and walked to the over-stuffed chair to pick up the magazine sitting in it. “Let’s just say we reached a plateau of irreconcilable differences.” He turned quickly with stealth and grace. “Don’t get me wrong, Jack’s a great guy and a good cop. The best.” He turned his back to Hutch again. “We hit a snag on a personal level, and rather than… it was easier for me to leave, that’s all,” he finished lamely.
“Does Jack really understand why you left?” Hutch asked, not knowing why he felt the need to push the issue.
“Oh yeah,” Steve laughed, then took on a brief and calculating expression as if considering his next comment. “He was my best friend, and I was his. Somewhere in the course of four years I turned that friendship into something else, and I thought he had too. But I was wrong. When I put it into words and acted on them,” Steve stared off, seeing somewhere else, someone else, at that moment. “Whoooo!” he shouted. “Like the lame beggar at the gate, he took up his bed and ran!”
The smile faded and Steve looked at Hutch, allowing him to see behind the window he presented to the world into the normally shuttered pain inside. “He couldn’t get away from me fast enough.” Steve cleared his throat and set his smile back in place again.
“Are you saying you were in love with him?”
“Oh yeah. I loved him. Never wanted to. If Jack ever suspected I was gay, he never said anything. We got closer as friends… I really fell hard. I can’t say when… over the years it just happened. So I can see how it is between you and Dave…” Steve shifted and looked uncertain.
“Hey man, if I’m wrong… I’m sorry… I just… maybe I was hoping we had that in common. It would sorta give me hope, you know? Here’s a happy ever after; maybe I’ll find one too. I keep looking.” He turned to bend over and slide the chair away from the wall. “This sucker weighs a ton with the bed frame in it. It’s not going to be any big deal getting out to your car, but who’s going to help you get it up the stairs into your place?”
Steve turned to look back questioningly and Hutch was still standing there cotton-mouthed and dumbfounded. You’re gay… and willing to talk about it.
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about,” Hutch answered. “You aren’t wrong about Starsky and me. I guess I didn’t think it was so obvious. I hope that won’t be… ah… we don’t… I mean…”
“You don’t plan on jumping free of the closet any time soon?” Steve offered helpfully.
“Not hardly.” Hutch looked away changing the subject. “How heavy is this thing, anyway?” He reached over to give it an experimental lift. “I can probably make a sling and put it on my back and haul it up the stairs that way, don’t you think?”
“Sure. That’ll work.” Steve rolled his eyes and reached to grab his side of the chair, indicating Hutch should grab the other. The two men juggled the chair into a comfortable balance and carried it to the front door, setting it down while Steve opened the door, then picking it up again and walking it out to Hutch’s car.
They muscled it into the big car’s trunk and tied the lid down tightly with some rope. When both men were confident it would be secured for the trip, Hutch extended his hand.
“Thanks for the loan of the chair. She’ll be more comfortable this way than one of those airbed blow-up things that sit on the floor. I’ll see you Monday morning. Want me to drive?” Hutch asked.
“Only if I have to,” Steve replied with a playful punch. “Get going. I’ll grab a shirt and my keys and follow you over to help you get it upstairs. You wouldn’t be walking upright by Monday if you tried it yourself.”
Hutch tried to dissuade him but Steve waved him off. He watched the bare back above the tight tennis shorts as Steve walked back into his apartment and smiled sadly at the courage displayed by the man in his effort to be so honest with Hutch about his previous partner. I hope there’s a happy ever after for you too, buddy. You deserve it.
Chapter 4
Hutch slid into the car and carefully pulled out into traffic and drove toward Venice. As he drove he replayed the conversation he and Steve had shared, wondering about the ramifications if Steve had so easily recognized the relationship he and Starsky had. Was it simply a case of it taking one to know one, or did he need to take steps to be more careful?
Making a mental note to watch it, especially in public, and to talk to Starsky about it later, he turned up the radio and tried to take comfort in whatever positive he could find in life at the moment. When I screwed up my nerve to tell Starsky how I really felt, he laughed and kissed me, practically yelling so loud I thought his neighbors would hear. He was so happy I had told him first since he’d been trying to figure out how to approach me with the subject for the previous two weeks.
“It went down so easy that first time.” Hutch smiled at the memory. “Then how did things get so fucked up when we started working that case with Kira?” Hutch shook his head, not having the emotional energy to examine it. There hasn’t been time to deal with that, has there, babe? We’ve danced around it a few times, but just wound up in the sack and left the word part unsaid. “Then Gunther made none of it matter, anyway.”
“I’m not sure what I would have done, babe, if you’d run out on me,” Hutch muttered to himself, feeling infinitely sorry that had happened to Steve. “I hope I don’t ever find out.”
Steve was right, it took both men to get the chair up the stairs and into the apartment. The clamor of their laughter as they fumbled it sideways to clear the door could not help but wake Starsky and he padded sleepily out into the living room, zipping up his loose-fitting jeans.
“Thanks,” Hutch panted. “You’re right. If I had tried that alone it would have been a disaster. Now show me how it works.”
Steve demonstrated the foldout chair and the various positions it locked in and Starsky smiled in approval.
“Hey, that’s great. I appreciate this, honest.” Starsky extended his hand to Steve, who shook it firmly.
“Good, glad to help.” Steve tore his gaze away from the vivid scars on Starsky’s bare torso and gave both men a bright smile, then prepared to leave. “You guys take it easy. I’ve got a date with the laundromat. I’ll pick you up Monday.” He gave Hutch’s shoulder a playful pat as he left the room and Hutch saw the flicker of a frown pass over Starsky’s easily readable face. Starsky silently reached for a shirt that hung over the edge of the couch and eased self-consciously into it.
“You bet, thanks again.” Hutch walked Steve to the door, closing it behind him.
“I thought I was going to ride over with you? Why didn’t you wake me?” Starsky asked angrily as soon as the door was shut.
“You were sound asleep. Why wouldn’t I have let you rest? You’re convalescing, remember?”
“That the only reason?” Starsky pinned him with a hard stare as he buttoned the shirt over his chest.
“Yeah, that’s the only reason, why else?” Hutch asked, confused.
“Some time alone with Mr. Hardbody? Or being pissed at me for asking my mom to come?”
“Mr. Hard…? What?”
“I’ll bet he looks great with his shirt off.”
“Starsky, I’m…” Hutch took a breath to steady himself. “I’m not pissed… I just…”
“Bullshit! Yes, you are and don’t deny it,” Starsky fired back, cutting him off.
Hutch took another deep and steadying breath. Wow, talk about mood swings. . . He searched the face of his lover and saw a demand for the truth. Hutch broke the gaze and flopped on the couch. The lightness he felt from the laughter with Steve was gone and in its place was the oppressive depression of earlier. “Okay, I hate what having her here will mean to us. I don’t like living a lie. I do it all day long at work. When I get home, at least I want some truth here.”
Starsky physically deflated at the admission. He walked over to sit down next to Hutch and gently rubbed his fingers over Hutch’s arm. “I’m sorry. I know how you feel about that, I just… I can’t tell her, babe. She’s not healthy; I don’t want her to get upset. It’s bad enough she’s going to get here and take one look at me and know she’s been scammed about the shooting. How am I supposed to hit her with, ‘Oh by the way, you’ll never have grandchildren from my side of the family ’cause Hutch is my partner more than at work. We’re gay.’ How am I supposed to do that? She’s old fashioned, Hutch. It would kill her.”
“How do you figure she isn’t going to guess with all your stuff here and us sleeping together?” Hutch asked caustically.
Starsky didn’t look up. “I wasn’t planning on us sleeping together while she was here.”
“And just where am I sleeping, buddy?” Hutch fired the question.
“She’s not going to be here that long, a couple of weeks…” Starsky’s jaw set stubbornly. “I’m not telling her.”
“I told my folks.” Hutch’s voice was steely calm.
“Don’t turn those ‘ice-man’ eyes on me. Yeah, you told your folks. I never asked you to. You did it because you wanted to. Considering the relationship you have with them, maybe it was no big deal to you whether it upset them or not, I don’t know.” Starsky pushed up off the couch to pace, again taking on the edge of anger he’d expressed as Steve left. “Maybe you enjoyed hitting them over the head with this, or it was one of your ‘I need to purge my soul’ moments. Hell, I don’t know. But it’s different with me, and I can’t hurt my mom.” He stopped pacing to turn hard blue eyes on Hutch. “I won’t hurt her.”
Hutch felt the words as solidly as if there had been a blow behind them. For a second it took his breath away. Where does that leave me? He felt his heart pounding in his chest so hard it was becoming painful. He stared silently at the closed and hard face before him. I don’t have the guts to ask. “Fine, don’t tell her.” It was the only comment he could manage without exploding. He got up, grabbing a pen out of the glass holder on the desk and scooped up a junk mail envelope out of the trashcan next to it. He walked in the kitchen to inventory the cabinets and start a grocery list.
Starsky sat down on the vacated couch and thumbed through a magazine off the coffee table. He alternated between glancing at the TV, turned to a soccer game, the magazine, and what Hutch was doing in the kitchen.
Hutch was moving around the cereal boxes on the shelf, weighing the contents to see how much was there, when he felt the warmth of Starsky press up against him.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out as harsh as it sounded,” Starsky spoke softly at his back. “I know it sounded like I didn’t give a shit about how you felt about anything. That’s not true.”
Hutch froze, battling within himself, with one part longing to turn into those waiting arms and sink his face in the curls and drink in the man he loved more than anything. The other part was angry and hurt. He felt discounted and discarded… something to be ashamed of. One more time not to measure up.
“Do me a favor, huh?” Hutch said, not moving.
“What?”
“Don’t mention it again. Let’s just get through your mom being here the best way we can. I can’t talk about it with her here and have her walk out in the middle of it and try to put on a face that says everything’s great. I can’t do that.” He turned to face Starsky and backed away a bit, body stiff and clearly communicating ‘don’t touch.’ “It’s not fair for you to ask that.”
“Hutch…” Starsky looked concerned, correctly reading Hutch’s level of hurt.
“That’s all I’m asking.” Hutch’s voice rose in anger. “Is that too fucking much to ask, too?”
“No,” Starsky answered quickly. “No, if that’s what you want, I… It’s okay. I won’t mention it again, but…”
“No buts. If you bring it up while she’s here, I’m out the door! Did you hear me? I mean that.” He stared unblinking at the pale face before him, seeing a flicker of fear there. He wanted to reach out and hold Starsky, wanted to make that look go away, but his own pain wouldn’t let him. With a grim determination he sighed and turned back to the cabinets. After a second he heard Starsky shuffle back to the couch.
Hutch finished compiling his list of things to get and jotted down a last minute thought on his list. Then, hating the fact that he was dreading turning around to face his best friend, he slammed down the pen and went to where Starsky sat on the couch. The noise startled Starsky and he looked up expectantly as Hutch approached.
Hutch stood looking down. Starsky read his face, an art long practiced, and he silently held open his arms. Hutch sank to his knees and fell into them. Hutch clung to his partner, running his hands up and down the length of Starsky’s back, careful to avoid the healing places. He could feel Starsky’s hands on his back doing the same thing. The slow firm circles filled him with a calm and peace that Hutch could only find here.
“I’m sorry I’m being a prick,” Hutch mumbled against Starsky’s chest.
“That’s okay. That’s one of the things I like most about you,” Starsky joked, tightening his hug.
Hutch pulled back enough to cup Starsky’s face between his hands. “I love you. I love touching you and kissing you and holding you whenever I want to… whenever I need to. That’s going away for a while after tomorrow and I’m having a hard time handling that.”
“I know, I love you too. We’ll find time together, just us. I promise. If we have to go for a ride, or hide in the bathroom, I swear, we’ll find the time,” Starsky promised, his brow furrowed as if the realization of why Hutch needed to touch him was suddenly apparent.
Hutch searched Starsky’s face to find the truth of that there and tried to grasp it, tried to wrap that promise around his heart to hold it together, but couldn’t. Starsky seemed to sense the losing battle and leaned forward to kiss him. Hutch felt the love in the lips that melted into his and he used it to bolster his belief in Starsky’s promise. Hutch kissed back, his tongue seeking out the partner in this covenant and sealing it. He broke the kiss, moving his lips down the side of Starsky’s face to his neck, nuzzling against the soft warm flesh there, the dark curls behind Starsky’s ear tickling at Hutch’s nose. He drank in the feel and the smell like a man drowning would drink in a last gulp of air.
Starsky inclined his head toward Hutch, leaning into those lips. “Come on, magic man. Let’s make the most of the time we got.” He stood up still holding Hutch’s hand, and led him to the bedroom.
“Starsky, come on. Get real. You’re not up to this…” Hutch argued. “Let’s go to the grocery store. You can wait in the car. I’ll leave the A/C on. When we get back we’ll eat and do some snuggling when we go to bed after your therapy.”
Starsky turned Hutch’s back to the bed and gave him a gentle downward push. “You can go get the milk and bread later. Right now, you’re mine. I’ve got plans, got it?”
Hutch felt his lips curl in a smile in spite of an initial irritation. “Hey tough guy, who do you think you’re fooling?”
“I’ve never been more serious,” came the rasping reply as Starsky crawled to lie next to him on the bed. Starsky’s mouth took his with a deeply demanding kiss; hands dispatched his belt and jeans in mere moments. Long fingers slid down the front of Hutch’s underwear to squeeze the erection growing there. Starsky groaned into Hutch’s mouth when he broke the kiss to tongue his way down Hutch’s smooth chest to suck and bite at the nipples hardening there.
More, harder… Hutch thought as he longed for their lovemaking the way it used to be – hot and wildly mind-blowing. Starsky’s mouth followed the length of warm skin to the exposed belly and below. His tongue followed the grasp his fingers had on Hutch’s shaft, flicking lightly over the tip and down the sensitive underside, then back up to circle around the crown.
Hutch arched up toward the exquisite torture, his hands reaching out to tangle in Starsky’s dark curls. “Oh God, Starsk. That feels so good.” Oh shit, I’m going to miss this. “Yeah. Oh yeah, just like that.” He gasped as Starsky’s mouth took his length, index finger and thumb curled around the base of his cock tightly while Starsky’s tongue worked in tandem with rhythmic suction that was driving Hutch wild.
“Is there any doubt?” Starsky took away that glorious mouth to ask.
“Doubt about what? God, you expect me to think and answer questions? You’re killing me. Don’t stop!” Hutch writhed on the bed, trying to draw that mouth back down while raising his hips up to meet the hot wet heat.
“Doubt about who you belong to,” Starsky answered, between stroking with one hand and giving teasing lollipop licks to Hutch’s bobbing cock. “Say it, Hutchinson! Whose are you?” The constriction at the base of Hutch’s shaft tightened.
“Starsky, please get on with it, I need to come real bad. Come on, babe, do it, please?”
“Say it!” Starsky slid his mouth slowly down the length of Hutch’s engorged cock, teeth bared, scraping lightly.
“Oh God, Starsky, come on… please, quit fooling around,” Hutch pleaded, feeling like his balls would explode if Starsky didn’t finish him.
“Who do you belong to? Tell me. Say it, make me believe you really know it.” Starsky rolled Hutch’s balls and drew a bead down his perineum with his finger, passing over the puckered entrance. He drew a small circle there and blew warm air across the straining dick. “Who do you belong to?” Starsky repeated tauntingly.
“Please, Starsky, let me come, now, I’m dying.”
“Say it!”
“You, I belong to you, I’m yours, nobody else’s, who else would there be? Oh God…”
Hutch’s voice changed into a scream as Starsky released his hold on the base of Hutch’s cock and swallowed him again. The finger Starsky had teased Hutch’s anus with entered him smoothly and zeroed home on his prostate with long practiced accuracy. Hutch came in powerful spasms that shook his large frame.
Starsky rode out the storm, sucking him dry. When Hutch was finally quiet, Starsky moved to snuggle at his side, head pillowed on the smooth chest.
“What was that all about?” Hutch gasped, questioning.
“It might be a little while before we can get that vocal,” Starsky said with a snicker. “I just wanted to be sure you were perfectly clear on that point and that we both had something to remember.”
Hutch groaned and threw his arm over his eyes while the other wrapped tighter around Starsky. It’s not something that was ever in question before.
Hutch gradually succumbed to a post-coital doze, Starsky joining him with soft snoring.
The sound of a synthesizer playing from an ice cream truck in the street below awakened Hutch. Starsky still lay nestled in his very numb arm. Hutch grimaced as he eased the dead limb out from under the sleeping man and slid off the bed. His breath hissed as prickles of pins and needles signaled the return of circulation and feeling.
He stood near the doorway waiting to see if a muffled snort would prove Starsky was awake also, but he turned, rubbing his nose into the pillow indentation left by Hutch’s head and sighed, still sleeping soundly. Whose am I? Yours, for as long as you‘ll have me, I thought. I wish I could believe you find value in that. Hiding what we have from your mother makes believing that tough. He sighed in dark resignation and, picking up his list made earlier, left the apartment.
***
Hutch juggled the grocery bags against the doorframe as he opened the door. Once inside, the great smell he’d gotten a whiff of as he mounted the stairs hit him more strongly. Starsky was in the kitchen and turned to greet him with a brilliant smile. “Smells great in here, huh?”
“Yeah, what is it?”
“Hutch, can’t you tell chicken and dumplings when you smell it? What kind of farm boy are you?” Starsky asked, as he opened the oven and fanned the aroma in the blond’s direction.
One whose mother was too busy climbing up the rungs of the social ladder to cook. “Where did it come from?” Hutch asked as he dropped the bags and began putting the food away.
“Dobey’s son brought it over on his way out on a date. Edith made it.” Starsky took a deep breath, closing his eyes in appreciation.
“Wow.” Hutch peered at the huge pan bubbling in the oven. “She’s got to quit cooking for us, or we’ll both have the Captain’s waist line.”
“Speak for yourself. I’ve got fifteen pounds to put back on, none of my clothes fit.” Starsky pulled out the loose material on the waistband of his jeans as proof.
“Fine, you eat it, I’ll fix a salad.” Hutch went to the sink to wash the vegetables.
“You know, this waking up and finding you gone is becoming a habit. Your fingers broke, you can’t leave a note?”
“I. . . I’m sorry, I thought you’d remember I was going to the store and figure that’s where I went,” Hutch stammered, looking closely at Starsky, trying to gauge if he was serious or not.
“That’s no excuse. We’ve always been good about that with each other. Just ’cause I’m home all the time, and you’re the only one going anywhere, doesn’t change the rules. You’re still a cop; that makes you a target all the time. I worry when I don’t know where you are for sure.”
Hutch blinked in surprise when he saw the tight line of Starsky’s mouth and realized he was serious. “I’m sorry, you’re right. We’ve always been good about that. I won’t leave again without a note.”
Hutch carried the hot pan to the table, then brought over the large salad. Dinner ended on less of a strained note than it began with Hutch recounting the story of startling a blind as a bat Steve just coming out of the shower.
“What time is your mom getting in tomorrow?” Hutch asked as he finished clearing away the last of the leftovers.
“9:41 a.m.,” Starsky answered.
“Glad it’s a Sunday so I don’t have to leave at six a.m. to beat the traffic,” Hutch muttered, throwing a dishtowel over the clean dishes in the drainer.
“I’ll go with you. You don’t have to go alone.”
“Starsky, why would you do that? I can’t let you off at baggage claim, because you can’t lift her luggage. You can’t let me off because you can’t drive yet. It’s hot and smoggy and a long walk in from the parking lot to baggage claim. So why don’t you just be logical and wait here. I’ll park and meet her at the gate to help her with her carry on, get the bags at baggage claim and go get the car, then come back and pick her up. She’ll understand. Why push yourself the first day she’s here? Stay here and be rested so she sees you at your best, not your worst. She’ll worry less.”
Hutch looked at his partner and raised his eyebrow, waiting for agreement. It eventually and begrudgingly came. Starsky nodded and plodded off to the shower to get ready for his physical therapy and bed.
Hutch finished up the cleaning detail in the kitchen and, hearing the shower stop, went in the bedroom to do the therapy with Starsky. He forced himself to keep his mind on business and not look at the water droplets that shone in the bedroom light like tiny diamonds all over his partner’s body. Hutch tried to move mechanically, smoothing the oil in and working the knots out of the muscles. He stretched Starsky’s chest muscles without the additional stress of the soup cans. Seeing the tightness of Starsky’s face with each painful stretch had Hutch’s stomach churning by the time he was done. He finished the last of the prescribed set of exercises and wiped the excess oil off with a hand towel. Hutch followed the last wipe with a soft kiss, then pushed off the bed. “I’ll be right back with your medicine.” Hutch walked slowly into the kitchen, desperate to lift the black mood he was in. If this is our last night in that bed together for a while, for God sake, don’t ruin it. He chastised himself and pasted a determined smile on his face as he returned to the bedroom.
“Here ya go, Gordo. Drink up.” He placed the pills in Starsky’s hand, passing him the juice glass once he was ready to swallow them. He hit the light and crawled in next to his partner.
Starsky snuggled back against his chest once Hutch was settled. Hutch leaned into his partner and let his lips rest against Starsky’s temple. “Go to sleep, babe. I love you,” he whispered, tangling his fingers with Starsky’s and letting both rest on Starsky’s hip, away from his incision-riddled torso.
Hutch listened as Starsky’s breathing slowed and deepened, grateful that his lover was able to quickly fall asleep and that there was no awkward conversation to avoid. God, I’m going to hate not holding you like this. Hutch finally managed to drift off, but slept restlessly and woke a few hours later.
He looked at the clock for the umpteenth time since he’d awakened at 4:00 a.m. He slowly stretched to turn off the alarm, abandoning any attempt to go back to sleep and not willing to lie there any longer trying. He slid silently out of bed and padded to the kitchen to start the coffee, then headed for the shower.
The morning ministrations completed and the bathroom rendered spotless when he was finished, he laid out Starsky’s medication at the kitchen table and tiptoed into the bedroom to get his wallet off the dresser. He looked at the lump sleeping soundly in the middle of the bed and longed to crawl in next to him.
He debated a second about waking the sleeping man to say goodbye, torn between letting him sleep undisturbed and taking advantage of the privacy to kiss him once more. Feeling a need to be self-serving in this the eleventh hour, he knelt on the bed to reach the blanket and expose the sleeping face. He kissed over the eyes and cheeks, feeling them swell in a sleepy smile as he rounded down toward the lips. Starsky’s arms rose up slowly and stiffly but eventually reached their target and drew Hutch down next to him. Starsky slid a leg over to hold Hutch in place as he kissed back, tongue assaulting and demanding entrance. Hutch swam in the sensations, really sorry that he had to get up and leave that bed and his lover in it.
“Ummmm, I’m glad I decided to wake you for a goodbye kiss. But you need to let me go, or your mom’s going to start her visit madder than she will be anyway for me letting her wait there.” Starsky gave a grunt and let his arms slide away and Hutch pushed up off the bed.
“See you soon. Go back to sleep if you can. Your medicine’s on the table. I turned the coffeepot off so it wouldn’t bum ‘til you got up and were ready for it.”
“Thanks. Drive careful. There shouldn’t be much traffic this time of day.”
“Right. Later. I love you,” Hutch answered as he walked toward the front door.
“Love you, too.” Starsky’s voice followed him.
Hutch deliberately kept his mind blank as he drove to the airport, not imagining and rehearsing what he’d say to Starsky’s mother when she arrived. She was a sweet lady and he’d always gotten along with her the few times they had been together. He had spoken to her occasionally on the phone over the years and had accompanied Starsky on two visits back to New York. But this time was different. This time she was invading his space in a big way and he knew she was perceptive enough to pick up on it. He truly didn’t want to make her feel unwelcome. But the truth was, he didn’t want her here. He wanted to take care of Starsky himself, to keep their life like it was, and with her there all the intimacy that he wanted and needed so badly would have to be hidden or aborted completely due to her presence. The bottom line was… he resented the hell out of her visit.
He stood at the gate waiting for her to disembark. His height gave him a solid advantage in watching the passengers as they walked out of the doorway, so he spotted her easily – a smallish woman, wearing a comfortable-looking pantsuit and carrying a big purse and a nylon shopping bag. Her dark hair was still more pepper than salt and short, only slightly less curly than Starsky’s.
He shimmied through the others waiting and caught her eye, smiling his welcome as he walked to her. Hutch leaned down and kissed her cheek as she reached to hug him. She looked past him briefly, then fixed him with an all too familiar ice blue stare.
“Where’s David?” she asked.
“He’s waiting for you at home. I didn’t want him to sit in the car or wait outside.”
Her eyes widened at his statement. What the hell, you might as well know the truth, all of it. “He’s not strong enough to walk from the parking lot, and can’t drive yet either. It was easier for him to wait at home and rest. He wanted to come, but I talked him out of it. It would have wasted him for the rest of the day.” Hutch’s voice was soft but left nothing to be misunderstood in the grave situation he described.
“How badly was my son hurt, Ken?”
“He took three high-powered automatic rifle bullets in the chest. It damaged his right side the most, the muscles that move his shoulder and arm, and did some damage to his right lung. The others hit his stomach and spleen. The spleen was removed, the stomach repaired. All the bullets went right through him so he had more muscle damage in his back with the exit wounds. He’ll be in therapy for a while. I do it twice a day. When he gets stronger and can drive he’ll go to the outpatient area at the hospital and work with whirlpool and weights there. The effort to go out anywhere now would tire him out so much it would negate any benefit the therapy would bring.”
Hutch looked down at the small woman walking next to him. “He died, Anna. He went into a cardiac arrest after surgery and they brought him back.” Hutch’s voice cracked with the words. He still found it difficult to think about and saying it out loud made him shudder. Anna Starsky saw the reaction and put a hand out to pat his and he took it, squeezing it briefly then letting it fall. “He’s really doing very well. All of the specialists have been impressed with his progress. He’s impatient, though, wants to be back to normal yesterday. You know how he is. Everything considered, he’s doing good.”
“How long has he been out of work?” Anna’s voice was taking on a tight edge to it and her body language becoming stiffer.
“Nine weeks,” Hutch answered. Amazement struck him as he said it that it had been that long. The days had flown by in such a blur for both of them.
Instructing Mrs. Starsky to wait at baggage claim while he went and got the car, he jogged away. He smiled to himself as he remembered her face when she asked how she’d know the car when he drove up. Leaving her to contemplate a ‘Striped Tomato,’ he’d left.
He parked at the passenger pick-up curb and walked in as Anna was pulling her suitcase off the carousel. He reached over her to grab it easily, and with the other bag already sitting next to her carry on, they walked out to the car.
She smiled easily when she saw the Torino and Hutch loaded her bags in the trunk, then opened the passenger door for her. The drive back to Venice Place was filled with small talk. Hutch gave her details of the projections for rehab as truthfully as he could. He mentioned that Starsky looked pretty good, was still a little pale and had lost some weight, wanting to prepare her for when she saw her son for both their sakes.
“Why didn’t you call me when David was shot?” her voice was tight but calm, as if she was really trying to keep the accusation out of it.
This is what I’ve been dreading. Better to get it over with now than when we get home. “Because it was what Starsky wanted.” Hutch drew a breath in and let it out again. “He knew you were too far away to get here easily and if it was bad he didn’t want you to worry and feel upset about not being able to get here in time. If it wasn’t bad he didn’t want you to worry at all. It’s something he told me when we first became partners. I abided by his wishes, for one thing. For another, things were happening so fast, I didn’t have time. I was at the hospital with him, or was out on the street hunting down the guys that did it. I had my hands full,” Hutch replied, regretting the bitter edge his voice took on, hoping she wouldn’t think it was directed at her. He still couldn’t think about the shooting without a hatred for Gunther bubbling up from the deepest part of his heart and soul.
“I see.” Her voice had a tightness to it that spoke volumes more than the words. She turned from watching out the window to stab him with a look. “Do you have the same arrangement with David as far as your family is concerned?”
“No, I… it isn’t the same… I just always left that up to him. I said if he called them, it was okay with me. I didn’t think they’d come running out here anyway. We aren’t that close. I mean, they’d come if I was dead, sure. But what good would that do?” He looked at her for understanding, but wasn’t sure he saw it there. “If I was really sick or hurt, Starsky’s my family and he’d be there. That’s all that mattered. If he thought they should know, I’d go with whatever he decided was best to do at the time.”
“Did David call them when you were so sick from that respiratory plague?” Anna asked, her gaze and the tilt of her head so familiar coming from that side of the car.
“No. No, he didn’t.”
“He called me.”
Hutch turned to look questioningly at her. “Why?”
“He was frightened. He thought you were going to die. He was desperate to find the man who could provide the serum and was terrified he’d be too late. He didn’t have any doubt that he’d find him, just fearful that it would be too late to help you. I tried to make him see that finding that man would help save a whole city that could have been contaminated by the disease. Do you know what he answered to that?” Anna asked.
“No, what?”
“He told me… he didn’t care. He said if the whole state lived happily ever after but you were dead, he might as well be too.” She fidgeted with her purse strap a moment before continuing. “I think that was the most frightened I ever was for my son. To hear him sound like he wouldn’t want to go on, if you died. Having him hurt so badly must have been very difficult for you. David has never been one to waste emotional energy. He wouldn’t feel so strongly for you if you didn’t return the feeling.”
“He knows how I feel.” Hutch made the declaration quietly. He won’t tell you, so I won’t either. Damn you to hell, Starsky.
They drove the rest of the way to the house with general chitchat and no more heavy subjects broached. Anna hurried out of the door as soon as the car stopped in front of the apartment; she hesitated, turning back but Hutch waved her on. “I’ll bring everything. Go on, he’s anxious to see you too.” She smiled as she nodded her thanks and climbed the stairs to her son.
Hutch took his time getting the bags out of the car and locking it up, checking the mail he’d forgotten to get for the past few days, giving a few moments of privacy for the reunion.
He was almost considering easing the bags in the front door and going for a short walk in the stillness of the morning before the offshore haze burned off leaving the day Africa-hot, when he heard the familiar bellow from upstairs.
“Hutttcchhhh. Get up here, will ya?”
Guess I gave him long enough.
Hutch trudged up the stairs with the luggage and wrestled the bags in the front door. He took everything through to the bedroom, setting things down on the bed. His gaze fell on the pillow, seeing a few dark curly hairs there. He took in a deep breath, smelling Starsky in the air here, and was filled with an aching sadness that he was going to be relocated to the cold lonely couch. Fuck! He sighed and pasted on as genuine a smile as he could muster and went out to join the reunion in the living room. Wonder if Steve needs any help with his laundry. I gotta get out of here.
He entered the room to see Anna sitting on the couch next to Starsky, still dabbing at her eyes at intervals while his partner was engaged in animated conversation. Reminds me of how you were the day I brought Steve home for lunch. Was that an act, too? Hell, fooled me. I thought you were really feeling better.
Hutch stood for a moment, working hard to keep his smile in place. “Can I get you something to eat or drink, Anna?” Hutch asked when there was enough of a lull in the conversation to jump in.
“No, I’m fine. They fed me on the plane. But you, David, you should eat something.”
“I already ate, Ma. Hutch laid it out for me before he went to get you. I’m great, honest.” Starsky turned to flash Hutch such a brilliant smile that all his irritation melted under the warmth of it.
“Look, you guys got a lot of things to talk about, and I need to run some errands. I’ll be back in a little while. There’s deli for lunch in there. I wrote my beeper number on the whiteboard by the stove. If you want me to stop and get anything special for dinner, just beep me and I’ll swing by the store. Starsky, I laid out your medicine on the table for when you eat lunch, okay? “Hutch almost made it to the table to pick up his keys without catching the expression on his lover’s face as he prepared to leave. The question and hurt in those blue eyes hit him with the force of a tangible blow and he tripped over his own feet going for the door. He hesitated. Turning back to the kitchen and pouring a glass of orange juice, he carried it to Starsky and set it on the coffee table in front of him.
“Here, drink this while I’m gone.” He let the hand slide away from the glass to the side of Starsky’s neck and down to his shoulder to press lightly, sending his love to the man with his touch. “See you in a bit.” He walked out the door without looking back.
Hutch spent the afternoon in the squadroom, finishing up loose ends at work, and looking over his notes for the questions he was expecting at the court proceedings the next day.
The increase in noise level at the change of shift reminded him of the time and he filed the papers he was finished with and put away the others in his briefcase for tomorrow. He picked up the phone and dialed the familiar number and smiled into the phone as Starsky answered.
“Hi, yourself. What’s on the menu for dinner? Shall I stop and pick up something?” Hutch asked.
“Are you kidding? Ma’s got it covered. You’ll love it. Pasta salad with enough vegetables in it even for you. I’ll bet the dietician her heart doctor has her hooked up with must have come from Minnesota.” Starsky gave the last word a really bad Swedish accent and Hutch laughed out loud.
“Okay, I’m on my way.”
“Drive careful,” Starsky answered, finishing with a whispered, “I love you.”
“Me too.”
He sat in the blistering hot car, door wide open, waiting for some of the heat to escape while the A/C worked hard to blow cool air in his direction. Once he was able to firmly touch the steering wheel, he closed the door and drove toward home.
Dinner was good and Anna beamed at Hutch as he effused about it, helping himself to seconds. Starsky did even better than usual in putting it away. Hutch leaned back letting out a satisfied sigh, then started to rise and clear the plates off the table. Anna stopped him with a look and a hand on her aproned hip. “You go and watch TV, I’ll clean up. You both look very tired.” Anna batted his hands away from the dishes he’d been reaching for.
Hutch smiled and gave in, reaching automatically for Starsky’s arm to help him up out of the chair. Anna caught the gesture and furrowed her brow as Starsky pushed Hutch’s hands away, standing straight on his own to smile at her as he moved to the couch. Hutch fought down the painful discounting he felt at that gesture. Didn’t take you long not to need me, buddy.
Hutch went to sit in his usual spot on the couch with Starsky but stopped himself in mid-squat, moving over on the chair instead, leaving that place for Starsky’s mother.
Starsky noticed and gave Hutch a questioning look that Hutch answered with a glance into the kitchen. Starsky fired back a resigned nod and eased his feet up on the coffee table and let his head fall back on the couch. You look beat, babe, Hutch thought as he noted the dark circles under his lover’s eyes.
“You want to go take your shower now and have me do your PT while your mom’s cleaning up? Then you’ll both be done at the same time in case you want to visit some more. I think she’ll probably want to turn in early. It’s only seven here but it’s ten to her,” Hutch suggested.
“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Then if she wants to go to bed before we do, the light won’t bother her while you do my PT,” Starsky agreed and went to push up off the couch. He was unsuccessful on the first try and looked up to see if Hutch’s hand was in close proximity to help for the next one. For the briefest of seconds Hutch thought to withhold that hand, remembering the one he’d extended from the table being rebuffed. But he couldn’t do it. His hand was there as Starsky looked up, took it and a moment later Starsky was on his feet. Their hands squeezed slightly longer than the boost necessitated, then Hutch reluctantly stepped back.
“Thanks,” Starsky mumbled as he stiffly straightened and shuffled off to the bathroom.
Hutch listened for the telltale sounds of the shower stopping as Anna came out of the kitchen drying her hands on her apron.
“Where’s David?” she asked.
“He went to take a hot shower so I can do his PT. The hot water gets everything warmed up so it’s not so uncomfortable for him. That way we’ll have it out of the way if you want to turn in early.”
Anna nodded her understanding and, tucking a stray strand of hair back behind her ear, she sat down on the couch to wait.
Hutch rose out of the chair and went into the bedroom, stopping at the kitchen sink to get Starsky’s pills and a glass of water. Starsky was just plodding toward the bed still dripping and looking wiped out.
“I brought your pain medicine. I’ll bet you haven’t taken any, have you?” He was answered by a headshake as Starsky sat slowly on the bed and brought his legs up with a grunt.
Hutch handed him two pills and passed over the water. “Did you rest any after lunch?”
Starsky hesitated. “Rest from doing what? We were just sitting on the couch.”
“You usually take a nap in the afternoon. You need to tell her that. She’s here to help you, remember? She won’t be upset about it.”
Starsky nodded and closed his eyes as Hutch’s hands worked over tense muscles. He winced at intervals when they landed on a tense one. “Any chance we could make tonight an abridged version? I’m beat.”
“Is that really what you want?” Hutch stopped the movement of his hands to give Starsky a second to consider. He began again when he heard the sigh escape Starsky’s lips as he soundlessly formed the word ‘no.’
“Okay, Gordo, turn over.” Hutch eased back to give the smaller man some space and picked up the towel he’d placed over Starsky’s groin to encourage the move. There was a knock on the room divider and Anna entered, getting a bird’s eye view of her son’s chest as he sat up. The momentum toward turning over to his stomach too far to stop, he awkwardly continued, giving her a view of the much worse looking scars on his back.
Her face froze in shock as she saw her son. She gasped loudly and her eyes filled with tears. Starsky heard the sound and raised his head just in time to see his mother turn her eyes on Hutch. Her face contorted in an expression of black hate. There were tears in her eyes falling down each cheek as she fixed Hutch with a stare that chilled him.
“Where were you?” Her voice was a croak as she continued to stare malevolently at Hutch.
“Ma!” Starsky raised up again after hearing the accusation. He looked at Hutch’s face. Hutch knew what he was feeling was clearly etched there for Starsky to see. His gut twisted as painfully as if a machete had impaled him. Starsky struggled to get one hand free to reach for his partner. Hutch felt like a deer in the headlights under Starsky’s mother’s stare. He fought down the need to begin gathering himself to run.
Starsky’s hand snaked out and locked around his wrist, preventing him from leaving. “He was right there, Ma. This wasn’t his fault and I don’t ever want to hear you say anything like that again. Go back and sit down in the other room, please, until we get done.” Starsky’s voice had softened a little but not much.
Anna looked back to her son, those so similar blue eyes filling again and her lower lip quivering, but she turned and left without another word. Starsky let his head fall back to the pillow, groaning at the effort it had taken to hold it up from that angle. “I’m sorry, babe,” Starsky started. “She didn’t mean…”
“Forget it,” Hutch cut him off sharply. There’s no point in you saying she didn’t mean it. If looks could kill you’d be minus one partner. “She’s your mother, for God’s sake. How do you expect her to feel?”
“She’s my mother, but she’s not going to lay this on you. I’ve been trying to pull you out from under the guilt you’ve buried yourself in all this time. I should let her send you back there?” Starsky demanded hotly. “No way.”
Hutch poured out the oil and began massaging Starsky’s back, feeling the tension knots under his experienced fingers, and easing them away. He fixed his eyes on the exit wounds on his lover’s flesh and couldn’t help seeing the hate-filled glare of a few moments ago. Maybe if you’d get mad at me for it once, you could yell and we’d get past it. But you’d never do that, will you? Hutch felt the tears in his eyes fall with each blink. His vision was so blurred by them that he didn’t notice they were falling on Starsky’s bare skin. As their temperature cooled and they ran down Starsky’s side, he must have felt the cool tickle. He squirmed then turned over, capturing Hutch’s hands between his own.
“This was not your fault. How many times I got to tell you that?” Starsky asked. “Dobey’s told you, he said so when he came to visit once. Huggy’s told you. IA told you when they did the investigation. What’s it going to take?” Starsky questioned softly, reaching his fingers up to wipe away the tears.
Hutch’s throat closed and he couldn’t answer. He couldn’t get the lump in his throat to go back down to his stomach where it’d resided all these weeks. He just shook his head and raised up off the bed. He took the towel that had rested over Starsky’s butt with him and wiped it across his face. Letting out a shuddered breath he finally said, “I… I… need to go for a walk. You go visit with your mom. I’ll be back in a few minutes. I won’t be gone long.”
“Hutch, don’t.” Starsky swung his legs off the bed and turned Hutch to face him. “Don’t go anywhere. You’re tired, I’m tired, and she’s tired. Let’s just forget it and go watch something on TV. She’ll go to bed early; with the time change her body thinks it’s going on eleven now. Please, babe. Don’t go anywhere.” The need was plain in Starsky’s voice even though he didn’t voice it, but Hutch’s own pain was too overwhelming to acknowledge Starsky’s.
“I can’t stay right now. I’ll be back.” Hutch leaned forward to give Starsky a quick kiss. He handed Starsky his robe. “Twenty minutes, thirty, tops,” Hutch said already moving away. Hutch detoured to the bathroom long enough to wash the oil off his hands before he grabbed his jacket off the hook by the front door and, without looking back at Anna or her son, quietly left the apartment.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been walking; the general surroundings were starting to look less and less familiar. He reached for his belt loop and shrugged when he realized his pocket watch wasn’t hanging there. He frowned. Used to be the most important thing in my life, now I can’t even remember where it is. He felt a flickering sadness as that thought spawned the memory of his Grandfather and how much he missed him. Only person on this planet who ever loved me, no matter what. Starsky’s face came to view in his mind’s eye and he sighed. Maybe the only one who ever will.
“Knock off the pity party. Starsky came to your defense, didn’t he? He probably got up and read his mother the riot act as soon as you left.” Hutch spoke firmly to himself in an effort to lift his mood. Funny, but the prospect that they got into it over me doesn’t help at all. The most important thing to me, is that he won’t even tell her. What kind of commitment is that?
He passed an alleyway and was about to cross the street and start back when he heard a loud whining. He looked deeper into the dark alley and saw a large dog. He moved closer to the sound and saw it was a bitch having a litter of pups. There were three puppies squirming around on the ground near her. She was up in a crouch trying to deliver another. It was obvious that there was something wrong. She whined and kept looking back at her tail end but there was no pup in sight. Hutch moved slowly forward and reached out his hand to let her smell him, the whole time speaking softly and gently to the struggling animal.
“What’s the matter, girl? Did you get one stuck? Huh? Let me see if I can help. I had the same thing happen to my dog when she had her first litter. Trixter was supposed to be a boy but she played a trick on all of us when one of the barn dogs knocked her up.” Hutch kept talking softly as he reached to slip a finger in the dog. Sure enough he felt the body of the next pup in line wedged tightly sideways.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, girl. I need to try to turn this little guy so you can push it out. Hold still, easy now.” He slipped in another finger and pushed gently up, sweeping around to find something that would give him a purchase on the slippery body. He finally found a paw and gently drew the pup’s body around and down, seeing its hind leg and hip begin to present with the pushing contractions of the bitch. The next push and the pup fell out with a plop. Hutch caught it and eased it to the ground. The mother began sniffing at it and licking away the amniotic sac which encased it, and the pup began to wiggle.
Hutch raised up off his knees and went to brush off his pant legs, only to discover they were all sticky from the blood on the ground he had knelt in.
“Jeez, Hutchinson, you’re a mess. If there was any doubt about you turning towards home it’s history now.” He looked back at the mother and pups, smiling as he reached down to give the bitch a pat on the head. “Good job, girl.” He saw the collar around her neck and took note of the phone number he could just barely make out in the light filtering in from the street. “I’ll call your owner when I get home so they can come and get the family.”
He pushed his sticky hands into his pockets and began the walk home.
Turning the knob to his apartment door with a handkerchief he let himself in quietly. He was not at all surprised to see Starsky dozing on the couch waiting for him. He was, however, unprepared for the look of welcome to disintegrate into a look of terror in less than a second.
“Hutch, what the hell happened? Did you get mugged?” Starsky was up off the couch faster than Hutch would have believed him capable of moving. Starsky’s hands searched over his face and chest, looked at his hands and legs.
“What’s the matter with you? I’m fine. I stopped to help…”
“What do you mean, you’re fine. You’ve got blood all over you? What the fuck happened? Why didn’t you call?”
“Starsky!” Hutch grabbed at the frantic man to hold him still. “It isn’t my blood! I stopped to help a dog having puppies. She had one stuck sideways; she’d have never delivered it so I turned it for her.” Hutch saw that Starsky finally heard him and he let him go, frowning at the bloody fingerprints he left on Starsky’s T-shirt. “I’ve got to take a shower.” He flipped on the bathroom light and began to wash his hands and arms in the sink, wetting a towel and wiping over his face. He looked down at his pants and slid them down, wiping at the blood that had leeched through the denim to his legs. He pulled off his shirt and jacket and emptied his pockets on the counter, stuffing everything into a plastic bag from under the sink. He turned back to Starsky who had sunk down on the couch, his elbows on his knees, holding his head in his hands.
“Starsk, give me that T-shirt. It’s got blood from my hands on it.”
Starsky didn’t make any move so Hutch came closer to say it again. “Did you hear me? Give me your shirt.” Starsky sat back then and began pulling ineffectively at the hem of his shirt. Hutch shook himself as he realized that it would be tough for Starsky to do that and dropped the bag to help him. He eased the shirt up so Starsky could pull his arms down and free of it, getting a good look at his partner’s face as the material cleared his head. The curls shook out and settled back into their helter-skelter place, framing a pale face with huge tear-filled blue eyes shining back at him.
“Starsky, are you okay? Did I hurt you pulling off the shirt?” Hutch dropped to sit on the couch, searching Starsky’s face for the answer to his distress.
“Yeah, you hurt me.” Starsky’s answer was spoken softly, eyes averted. “But not by taking the shirt off. By leaving in the first place when I begged you not to… by coming back covered in blood and scaring the shit outta me. By yelling at me for being scared,” Starsky finished as Hutch pulled the smaller man to him, enfolding his arms around the bare torso. “You think you got a monopoly on worrying?” Starsky pushed back out of Hutch’s arms to face him squarely. “Do you honestly think I could get along any better without you then you could without me? Where the hell do you get off thinking that, Hutch?”
Hutch swallowed the lump in his throat and held Starsky a little tighter, steering his head back down against Hutch’s bare chest. “Babe, I’m sorry. I didn’t know how much blood I had all over me. I thought it was just my hands and knees. I didn’t even remember touching my face or the front of my shirt. The pup was slippery; I must have wiped my hands off without realizing it. I’m really sorry I scared you.” He drew slow comforting circles over Starsky’s back. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything. I had to get out of here. I just needed the space for a little while.”
“From me?” Starsky asked.
“No, not from you, from here. I was afraid things were going to get heated between you and your mom and me. I knew if I left, she wasn’t going to yell at you. If I wasn’t here, then she wouldn’t say anything to me out of fear and anger that would make you yell at her. I didn’t want to be the reason you guys said things to each other you’d wish had never been said. It just seemed the easiest way around it.”
“This is your home, Hutch. She’s the outsider.”
“This is our home, and she’s your mother. Let’s forget it, huh? It’s getting late. You need to go to sleep and so do I. Pass me some clothes out please. I’ll grab a shower at the station so I won’t wake your mom up in the morning.”
“Just be quiet and she’ll sleep through it. Besides, when you get up at six, she’ll feel like it’s nine, so she’ll probably be up before either of us.” Starsky smiled as he pushed up off the couch using Hutch’s shoulders for leverage. “I’ll join you in the shower if she sleeps late.” Starsky gave Hutch a lascivious wag of his thick eyebrows. “Want some candy, little boy?” he joked.
Hutch smiled then, giving Starsky’s butt a playful slap as he walked past. “Yeah, right. See you in the morning, Gordo.” Hutch stood and began putting the sheets on the couch. He felt Starsky’s eyes on him and looked up as Starsky mouthed ‘I love you.’ Hutch smiled and replied softly, “I love you too.”
He was just about ready to lie down when he thought about the dog again and realized with a start that he hadn’t phoned the number on the collar. He went to the phone and dialed the number, getting an answering machine; he left a message describing where he had seen the dog and pups, hoping she’d stay visible enough to be easily found. He left his phone number in case there were any questions and hung up. He set the clock radio alarm in the kitchen and went to the couch. Flopping down he did his best to get comfortable, fighting with the unaccustomed pajama bottoms and knowing what his back would feel like in the morning. One day down, how many more to get through? Who the hell knows?
The smell of food cooking woke him. Just as Starsky had predicted, Anna was up before both of them. Hutch reached for his robe off the coffee table and slipped into it, then bent down to pull the linens off the couch to set things back in place for the day. Storing the linens in the closet by the front door, he grabbed his clean clothes and headed for the shower.
“The coffee’s ready if you want to take it in with you.” Anna’s voice stopped his escape.
“Okay, thank you.” Hutch accepted the cup she had poured for him.
“Here’s one for David, too. You’ll be waking him up to do therapy before you leave?” She handed him a second cup with a questioning glance.
“Yes. He’ll take a shower to loosen things up while I dress. Thanks.” He turned toward the bathroom door feeling awkward and hating it.
“He talked a lot in his sleep last night. He seemed restless.” Hutch detected a note of sadness in her voice, but didn’t know what to say, so he moved the rest of the way to the bathroom without comment, dropping his cup off and taking Starsky his in the bedroom.
He looked at the typical burrowed bundle under the covers and had to smile. Setting the coffee cup on the nightstand he peeled back a corner of the bedclothes. “Hey, coffee’s ready. It’s right here for you. I’m getting in the shower. I’ll yell when it’s your turn.”
“Thought I was going to join you?” A sleepy rumble of a reply came from the center of the lump.
“You were right, she’s awake.” Hutch turned and went to start the shower.
Ten minutes later, Hutch exited the shower, blindly reaching for the towel off the rack, only to startle when it was handed to him. He squinted past his dripping hair to see a smiling Starsky standing naked in the steam-filled room. “She’s on the phone to her sister,” he leered. “Want some candy, little boy?” Starsky pressed himself against Hutch’s wet body, Hutch’s arms wrapping around him. Hutch sank his face in the tangle of sleep-tossed curls and kissed the warm flesh under them.
Starsky fastened hungry lips on Hutch’s mouth and drew him backward with him as he sat down on the commode lid. He hissed in a breath at the coldness of it and laughed into Hutch’s mouth. Hutch laughed back, straightening stiffly to stand upright Starsky’s kisses continued, sliding off his mouth to his chest, stomach and below. His lips kissed and nipped at the wet flesh there, coming to rest on the erection rapidly rising out of the dusting of wet golden curls. Hutch reached out to keep his balance as Starsky swallowed him, one hand resting on Starsky’s shoulder and the other on the towel rack against the wall. He groaned his pleasure as he urged Starsky on, his hips moving in synchronous rhythm to Starsky’s mouth. Starsky’s hands reached around to cup the mounds of Hutch’s buttocks, driving him forward with each hard suck.
“Almost… almost there…” Hutch spoke through gritted teeth, his eyes closed in concentration.
Starsky let his hands slide up and down the damp flesh, running over Hutch’s butt and down his thighs. Feather light touches interspersed with strong kneading fingers worked their magic and Hutch pushed in with shaking legs and climaxed powerfully into his lover’s eager mouth. He threw his head back, biting his bottom lip to keep quiet as Starsky milked him dry. When Starsky released him with a final kiss to his belly, Hutch laid his forehead on his arm resting against the towel rack to catch his breath.
“Good morning to you, too,” he gasped when he had enough air to talk.
Starsky stood up slowly. “Who needs Wheaties? That was the breakfast of champions.” He grinned at Hutch, appearing smugly pleased with himself at reducing Hutch to a wheezing and shaking lump.
Hutch turned to draw him tenderly into a hug. He whispered against his face, “Wait until you’re feeling better and I will get even. I’m keeping track. you know.”
“You may have to wait a while to get even. It seems to spend more than the usual time asleep.” He looked down sadly at his flaccid organ.
“It’s all the medicine you’re taking. When you don’t need that anymore, he’ll wake up with a vengeance, trust me.”
“You think?” Starsky pulled back to wash big blue eyes over him and the gaze took Hutch’s breath away. My God, you are so beautiful.
“I’m sure! Don’t worry about it.” His mind flashed back on so many nights they’d nailed each other through the mattress and his breath caught in his chest He quickly kissed the lips so close to his face, then pulled back. “Get in the shower, it’s getting late. I’ve still got to stretch you on the rack before I go.” Starsky nodded and stepped into the shower while Hutch shaved and brushed his teeth.
Hutch was just finishing the PT when he heard Steve’s honk down on the street below. He finished with a light swat to Starsky’s bare butt and jumped into his slacks. He shrugged into his shirt and was tucking it in as he walked to the living room to get his wallet and holster. Settling it in place he snapped the elastic strap and re-nested the gun, grabbing his jacket to throw over it. Anna Starsky watched with a concerned look on her face that spoke volumes of how she felt about the profession those accoutrements represented. Starsky padded out in his robe to walk Hutch to the door.
“Are you in court again today?” he asked.
“Yeah, unless something came up over the weekend to change the schedule. I’ll call at lunch when we recess. Maybe I can swing by.” He glanced at Starsky’s mother, realizing the reason for him to make the middle of the day stop no longer existed. “I… I’ll call you later. Don’t forget to take your medicine and call the doctor’s office and see if they are going to send a home health nurse over to draw labs or if you have to go in. Don’t take the blood thinner until you get the labs done again. Okay?”
“Jeez, I have two mothers. How’d I get so lucky?” Starsky teased.
Hutch started to lean in as was his habit to give Starsky a goodbye kiss, then caught himself, his mouth drawing into a tight line. Starsky’s sad eyes told him he’d caught the gesture too and regretted the necessity of it. “See ya.” Hutch’s reply was tight as he moved through the door and closed it behind him.
He bounded down the stairs to the waiting car, climbed in and shut the door. He turned to Steve, seeing the tentative smile and gave a genuine one of his own. Shit, it isn’t your fault my partner is too ashamed of me to fess up to his mother. I’m not going to make you pay for it. Steve relaxed visibly and handed Hutch a deli bag with a bagel in it.
“Here, thought you might need something to bite on about now. Was I right?” Steve’s eyes crinkled in a suntanned grin.
“Thanks.” Hutch took the offering with a soft laugh. He bit into the bagel and noticed the extra coffee sitting in the cup holder in front of him, and reached for it, too. “Thanks. Did I ever tell you you’d make somebody a great wife?” he teased, giving Steve a bright smile.
“Hey, no, but when I find the right guy, I’ll give him your name as a reference.” The two men laughed comfortably as Steve drove away from the curb. Hutch reached for the radio to log them in.
“Court today?” Steve asked as they drove to Parker Center.
“Unless something’s come up at the last minute to put things on hold. I really expect that with the high price tag of the defense attorneys for Mr. Gunther and associates, it will be a given. It’s been a three-ring circus from the start. Nothing is going to change that.”
“I’m really impressed with the number of indictments he’s facing. You did a hell of a job on that, buddy.”
“Thanks. I was going to bring him down if I died doing it.”
“I believe you.” Steve’s answer was completely serious. “Well, if there haven’t been any flies in the ointment for this morning, I’ll drop you at the courthouse and I’ll go check on these other leads about the arson investigation. I’ve got two left then I’ll swing back by. They should be ready to break for lunch by then. Sound like a plan?”
“You bet.” Hutch turned to study the handsome profile of the man driving, wondering when he got so comfortable with him. Curious yet again about the partner that let Steve walk away.
The courtroom was crowded and too warm. Hutch found himself hard-pressed not to nod off. Just like Friday, not much was accomplished in the scheme of things, one boring and complicated interrogatory after another. Tired of the legalese mumbo-jumbo, he tuned it out, trying not to be too depressed when the judge called for lunch recess without getting to the juror selection at all. He stood and stretched, catching Steve’s eye where he sat at the back of the courtroom. He side-stepped the attorneys clustered at the prosecution table and moved to the aisle to leave, when his gaze came to rest on James Gunther, who had also risen and was smoothing the crease out of his expensive silk suit. The eyes looked calmly out of a face that held no fear, no malice. Just the arrogant assurance that came from having too much money and power. Hutch felt something inside him chill. His feet stubbornly refused to take another step and he stood there frozen. He barely felt the hand on his elbow as it prodded him forward toward the door.
“Keep moving, don’t look back.” Hutch was struck speechless by the fact that it was Steve’s voice that droned a comforting litany at his side rather than Starsky’s.
Chapter 5
Once outside in the sunlight, Steve stopped long enough to put on his sunglasses, his face relaxing out of a squint. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I haven’t seen that sonofabitch up close since I arrested him. I didn’t think it would affect me like that. How long did I stand there like a deer in the headlights?”
“Not long,” Steve assured. “I saw you both get up at the same time. He saw you before you saw him. He planned it. I figured I’d get close enough to run interference if you needed it.” He unlocked Hutch’s side of the car. “You didn’t, you were fine. Next time you won’t bat an eye. That’ll kill him.” Steve bounced over to his side of the car and got in.
Hutch sat in the seat, fumbling with the seatbelt, his hands shaking.
“What do you feel like for lunch?” Steve asked “Chinese?” he suggested.
“Yeah, that sounds great.” Hutch’s reply was hasty. “Yeah,” he reiterated. “Chinese is good, thanks.” His answer was warm and sincere, and was offered gratefully for more than just the lunch suggestion.
Lunch was pleasant; the restaurant Steve picked was off the beaten path of the downtown lunch crowd. Soft Oriental music played in the background and the buffet lunch was excellent. Hutch was impressed with the variety and quality and ate until he was full and then some. Sitting back to finish the hot tea, he sighed. “I wish I could go take a nap rather than go back and sit on the hard bench at the courthouse. My back has had it.”
Steve smiled his understanding. “I’ll bet. My butt was getting numb and I was only there about a half hour.”
“The hard seat’s only part of it. With Starsky’s mother here, I’m on the couch.” He said it with a sharper edge to his voice than he had intended and Steve looked quickly over his teacup.
“Why?”
“Because she doesn’t know the kind of relationship we have,” Hutch admitted softly, the pain of the admission evident.
Steve looked down into his cup and was silent. When he finally looked up there was unhidden sympathy in his green eyes.
“How long does he figure he can hide it from her?” Steve’s question was asked without judgment.
“As long as he has to, I guess.” Hutch shrugged. “Her health isn’t that good. I think he figures she isn’t going to live much longer, so why tell her and upset her. She’s only visited out here one other time in all the years I’ve known him. Usually he goes back there. I go with him sometimes.” Hutch fiddled nervously with the wrapper on his fortune cookie.
“What about your family? They don’t know either?” Steve asked.
“Oh, no, they know. They don’t like it, but I told them. I mean, I guess they don’t like it, with my folks it’s hard to tell. We aren’t close. They were never really behind my decision to become a cop. I was in my third year as a medical student when I changed my major to criminal justice and went to the Police Academy after graduation. As far as they’re concerned it’s been downhill for a while now. They’re civil when I visit, which isn’t too often. My sister called pretty often to check on how Starsky was doing when he was shot. She’s been okay about it.” Hutch cracked open the fortune cookie, peeled out the slip of paper and smiled. He passed the slip over to Steve. “Prophetic?”
“A friend will have the answers to your problem if you will only listen.” Steve read the slip of paper out loud.
Hutch saw the flicker of a haunted look for a second, then it was gone. Steve tossed the paper aside. “My friend, I not only don’t know the answers, but there are days I’m not even sure of the questions.” Steve slid his chair back, tossing some bills on the table for a tip. “We better get back.”
They rode in silence back to the courthouse, traffic getting more congested as they approached downtown. Turning on to the street leading to the courthouse, traffic was at a standstill. “What the hell is up with this traffic?” Hutch asked.
“Beats me.” Steve reached for the radio and was just keying the mic to call dispatch when a motorcycle cop eased up beside them. Steve rolled down his window and whistled. “Hey, we’ve got to be in court here in a few minutes. What’s the problem?” He flashed his badge.
“There isn’t going to be any court this afternoon. The whole area has been evacuated and sealed. Bomb threat was called in about thirty minutes ago.”
Hutch and Steve exchanged glances and then both looked toward the multi-story building whose top was visible at the end of the street.
“I didn’t think Gunther was the type for cheap theatrics,” Hutch muttered.
“Did they evacuate all the holding cells?” Steve asked, leaning out the window.
“Yep,” replied the cop. Anything else he may have been prepared to say was drowned out by the sound of the explosion coming from the tenth floor of the courthouse. Glass, dust and debris filled the air even as far away as they were.
Steve reached for Hutch, pushing his head down and turning his own back to the open window to block what the concussion would blow in. When Hutch raised up, he met green eyes and, coughing at the dust, remarked, “I guess he wasn’t into theatrics after all.”
“I guess, and certainly not cheap. Let’s see if we can find a way out of here. I don’t know if anybody on Gunther’s payroll knows what car you got in to go eat lunch, but in case they were that smart, why don’t you get that blond head of yours out of sight, hmmm?”
Hutch slid down in the seat as the motorcycle cop helped direct a split in the cars to ease Steve around and out of the gridlock.
They were moving better down the side streets, working their way back to Parker Center, when Hutch risked sitting up straight in the seat again. The air was full of the sounds of sirens and the airwaves of the radio full of the fire and EMS dispatch calls to the area.
“You better call home when we get to the station. If Starsky turns the TV on he’s going to freak,” Steve cautioned.
“Yeah, I’ll bet he’s freaking already. He knew I was in court today.”
The two men entered the hubbub of Parker Center. Steve went to check in at the command post and see where they were needed, and Hutch went to grab a phone.
He dialed the number and got a busy signal, hung up and dialed again and again until he finally got the ring, which was answered immediately on the other end.
“Yeah,” a tight-voiced Starsky answered.
“Hey, I just wanted to…”
“Hutch, where are you, are you okay?” Starsky cut him off with anxious questions.
“Yeah, I’m fine. We were just coming back from lunch. We weren’t anywhere near the building.” It suddenly hit him that at lunchtime the building would be the most empty. Killing people apparently wasn’t the intent, although he had heard over the radio that there had been several casualties and some persons were still unaccounted for. It had been for disruption. In that it was a total success, as it brought every aspect of business at the courthouse to a complete halt.
“This wasn’t a hit on me. It may have been bought and paid for by James Gunther, but it was just a delaying tactic. Posturing on his part. He did it because he could. There he sits in the custody of the court. How much more innocent could he seem?” God, how I hate his guts!
“Come home, can you?”
“I don’t know. Everything is pretty chaotic right now. I’ll have to see where they’re assigning everyone. We’re on internal disaster, so I can’t leave until we’re released. Ill get home as soon as I can. I’m sorry I couldn’t radio from the car, but all the frequencies were shifted to EMS and fire band, no unauthorized use.”
“I was asleep on the couch when ma woke me. God, I saw the pictures from the Eye in the Sky and I thought…” His voice cracked
“I know what you thought. We’re okay. I’ll get home as soon as I can. Steve is waving me out; we’ve got to go. Bye, babe.”
He hung up the phone and joined Steve as he walked out of the squad room. “Where to?” Hutch asked.
“To meet with the bomb squad. They want to compare notes with us on the arson stuff in the garment district.”
“This isn’t related to that,” Hutch spat vehemently. “This is part of Gunther’s cat and mouse routine.”
“You’re probably right, but we have to check everything. That’s the drill we got handed.”
Steve fixed Hutch with a hard look before donning his mirrored shades. “Maybe they want to keep you far away from the center of things, just in case.”
“There is no place to hide from James Gunther. Believe me, I know,” Hutch muttered as he followed his partner to the car.
They spent the day comparing notes with the forensics people and the bomb squad, getting nowhere. By eight o’clock they were frustrated, tired and dirty from sifting through the dusty rubble. For all the paranoia, the courthouse bombing turned out to be something completely unrelated. A disgruntled father, who was losing his shirt in a one-sided divorce settlement and was resentful of the mandatory dissolution of his family, had set the bomb.
As Steve pulled up in front of Venice Place it was almost eleven and both men were bone weary. “Beware of the old patient with the new disease, my father used to say,” Steve offered.
Hutch was too tired to catch the analogy at first, then, “Oh, yeah, I get it. I guess I spent too much time thinking everything began and ended with Gunther. I’m too tired to be very quick on the up-take. Thanks for the lift. Be careful driving home. Don’t fall asleep.”
“I won’t. See you in the morning.” Steve sighed and slowly pulled away after Hutch shut the door.
The stairs looked miles long and straight up as he climbed them to the apartment. Every muscle in his body was screaming for a long hot shower and soft bed. Given the lateness of the hour he doubted he’d get the long shower and a ‘no’ on the bed was a given.
He let himself quietly into the apartment, seeing Starsky asleep on the couch waiting for him. He shook out of his shirt and took off his holster. Being as quite as possible he turned on the shower and shucked out of his dusty clothes. He brushed his teeth waiting for the shower water to heat and stood looking into the sink, watching the swirl of the water as it circled the drain. Circling the drain, that’s just how I feel right now. He roughly threw back the shower curtain and stepped under the hot water. Marginally refreshed he opened the door and padded into the kitchen. He stopped at the refrigerator and searched briefly, closing it again when he decided he was too tired to eat. He grabbed a beer and plodded to the couch, tapping lightly on Starsky’s knee to get him up and off to bed so Hutch could crash.
“Thanks for waiting up, buddy. But I’m pooped. Outta here so I can lie down, please.” Hutch tapped again and was rewarded by a blurry blue eye focused sleepily in his direction
Starsky jerked more awake and sat up, his eyes raking over Hutch from head to toe as if he had a need to validate the fact that he was really there and in one piece. “Come here.” Starsky held out his arms with the entreaty.
Hutch pulled at the open arms to get Starsky to his feet. “I’m too tired.” Hutch quickly kissed Starsky’s mouth. “Come on, move so I can go to bed.” Hutch didn’t even bother with linens, just grabbed at a couch pillow and flopped down, throwing an arm over his eyes. He let out a low groan as protesting muscles alternately cramped and relaxed.
Starsky stood there for a second, then shuffled off to bed throwing back a subdued, ‘”Night, Hutch.”
Good night. He didn’t even have the energy to voice the thought aloud before dropping off to sleep.
The next morning Hutch rose stiffly to take a shower and do Starsky’s PT. Anna was again up early and making breakfast. There was no smiling Starsky waiting for him when he finished his shower. Dressing quickly he called for Starsky to get in the shower and warm up so he could do the PT, and Starsky came in, passing him without a word to get under the warm water.
Putting Starsky through the series of exercises, Hutch tried to make small talk, but got little in response. “Is there a problem, here?” Hutch asked, eventually tiring of the icy attitude.
“No, why should there be a problem?” Starsky retorted.
“You haven’t been very talkative.”
“I waited up to talk to you last night, but you weren’t interested.”
“Starsky, I was dead on my feet,” Hutch snapped back.
“We’ve been tired before. We still talked. You didn’t want anything to do with me. I just felt that was pretty cold, man. You had to know how scared I would have been seeing that explosion on the news.”
“Yeah, and I called you as soon as I had the chance to let you know not to worry, we were fine.”
“We?” Starsky turned, stopping Hutch’s hands from their work on his back muscles. “Who’s we, Hutch?” Starsky bristled. “We’re okay, Steve’s calling me, we’ve got to go, who the fuck is we?”
“Steve, he was with me…” Hutch answered lamely.
“I was worried about you. I know there were likely a lot of other people in the building at the time, but I was only thinking about one tall, blond cop. I didn’t give a rat’s ass about anybody else in the city.” He turned back to rest his head down on the bed, his trunk unable to maintain that twisted angle any longer. “It used to be ‘we’ meant us. I guess I need to clarify that from now on?”
“Starsky, give it a rest. Steve’s a good cop and I’m lucky to have him as a partner.”
Starsky jerked up off the bed and out from under Hutch’s hands, his face livid. “Maybe that’s the only partner you need now?” Starsky hissed, bringing his face close to Hutch’s as he sat stunned on the bed.
“Starsky for God’s sake, listen to yourself, will ya? Where the hell is a comment like that coming from? You’re riding this emotional roller-coaster right now and it’s all part of healing…”
“Fuck you!” Starsky shouted. “You go from nursemaid to shrink in zero to sixty?”
Hutch took a breath and let it out again with exaggerated patience. “You flew off before you let me finish,” Hutch retorted. “I’d be working alone if they’d let me, but they won’t.” Hutch’s voice gradually built in intensity and volume. “If I have to have a partner right now, and you were the one wishing I did, then be glad it’s somebody who can handle himself. Steve’s a good cop and a nice guy, that’s all I’m saying, damn it.” Hutch stood up and wiped his hands off on the hand towel he’d had across his lap, throwing it on the floor as he left, wishing there were a door to slam behind him.
Anna looked up, started to say something, then appeared to think better of it.
Starsky came out of the bedroom fastening his robe. “Hutch, wait.” His call stopped Hutch from continuing out the front door. “Eat something before you go. Steve isn’t even here yet. Don’t go and stand outside waiting for him.” Starsky’s voice was calm and remorseful, but when Hutch ventured a look at those familiar eyes he saw the pain and frustration of the situation clearly mirrored there.
“Not being able to communicate like we’re used to is hurting us, Starsky,” Hutch whispered, casting a furtive glance in the direction of the kitchen. He resisted the arm that tried to pull him toward the kitchen with a shake of his head. “If I ate anything now, it’d sit in my stomach like a bowling ball. I’ll get something later. Hopefully, I can get home at a decent hour and we can go for a ride or something. We have to talk.” Hutch opened the door wider and started a hesitant step out with Starsky following.
“I love you,” Starsky offered with a shaky smile.
Hutch looked back and felt his anger well up again. “Talk’s cheap. Put some action behind that and it’ll mean something.” Hutch turned and trotted down the stairs, regretting the harsh words when he saw Starsky’s face react to them.
As he cleared the last step, Steve’s maroon car stopped at the curb, forestalling any opportunity he would have easily had to dash back up the stairs to apologize. Fuck, can it get any more complicated?
He plopped in the seat and rested his head back against the headrest, running his hands over his face.
“Tough night?” Steve asked as he pulled away.
“They’re all tough lately,” Hutch replied between his splayed fingers.
“I don’t know about you, but I hit the sheets and died.” Steve spoke around a large yawn.
“Starsky was waiting up. Man, I just didn’t have any conversation in me. I just wanted to crash. He was pissed I wasn’t in the mood to be ‘Chatty-Cathy’ and was still pouting this morning.”
“He’s just frustrated at being so far removed from all the action. He’ll get over it.”
Hutch let his hands fall to his lap and looked over at the laid-back man driving. “Does anything ever make you mad?” he asked with a grin.
“Sure! But it takes a lot. Maybe it’s all the years of Martial Arts. I was always such a geeky looking kid with the thick glasses and all; I had to learn to take care of myself. My folks thought that would be a good way to give me some confidence and some protection at the same time.”
“It worked.” Hutch smiled, reaching to rest his arm on the back of the seat, giving Steve’s shoulder a squeeze.
“There’s no court today, that’s for sure,” Steve offered. “What d’ya say we solve an arson?”
“You bucking for a recommendation to take the Lieutenant’s exam?” Hutch asked laughing.
“Nah, not yet. But I wouldn’t mind being permanently assigned to this precinct. The exam can come after that.” Steve smiled that easy smile that lit up his green eyes. “Dobey’s got to retire someday, right?”
Hutch laughed again, feeling a gradual slipping away of the black mood of earlier as Steve playfully punched at his thigh.
The morning was spent in a pow-wow with the other two detectives who had started on the arson investigation. The four men brainstormed what the next target might be, given the leads Steve had uncovered. Deciding to spend that night in a stakeout of two prime locations, they agreed on a time and meeting place to set things in motion.
Steve stood up and stretched after the meeting was over, then turned to Hutch. “Since we’re going to be up all night, I’m going to go to the gym, work out, then head home and take a nap. Want me to drop you off or you want to come with me?”
Hutch hesitated, guessing Steve was concerned that Hutch would be as stressed out when he picked him up for the job tonight as he was this morning. That could make for a risky evening.
“I’ll come with you. Let me make a phone call first, okay?”
“Sure, I’ll swing by Property and pick up the portable radios and meet you in the car.”
“Hello,” Anna’s voice answered the phone.
“Hi, this is Hu… Ken, is David awake?”
“No, he went to get blood work drawn this morning and he isn’t back yet.”
“How did he get there?” Hutch asked, anxious that Starsky was behind the wheel of a car when he didn’t have the stamina or strength to turn the steering wheel.
“Huggy came by to drive him. I offered, but he said I wasn’t used to LA traffic, so he wouldn’t let me.”
He just didn’t want you to drive his car. Hutch smiled to himself at the thought. “Oh, okay, you scared me for a minute. I just wanted to call and let him know there’s a stake-out tonight to try and catch the arsonist we’ve been after, so I won’t be home until sometime tomorrow. If I get a chance to call later, I will. Don’t forget to give him that message, okay?”
“Okay. You’re working and won’t be home tonight. I’ll tell him.” She paused, then continued, “Be careful.”
“Always. Take care. If there is any problem with the blood work or he needs anything, have him call Dispatch and they can reach me, okay?” Hutch added, remembering only now that Starsky should have had the blood work done on Monday and was a day late.
“I’m sure he’ll know how to reach you if there’s a problem. I’ll put a plate aside for you to eat tomorrow.”
“That’ll be great, thank you.” Hutch lowered the receiver when the line went dead. He shook off the guilty feeling about losing track of Starsky’s medical needs and went outside where Steve was waiting.
When they reached the gym, Hutch accepted the extra pair of shorts Steve offered. Hutch worked out with some weights and did some time on the punching bag while watching Steve go through his Martial Arts routine. It was a beautiful Kada set to music Steve had prepared for an upcoming competition. Hutch sat on the floor to watch, mesmerized by the strength and grace of the man. You are fascinating and beautiful to watch. Like a white tiger, all grace and power with something deadly just under the surface. He felt himself blush as the thought registered. “You don’t make it a habit to watch other men, Hutchinson. Watch it,” he muttered under his breath.
They finished, took leisurely showers and grabbed sandwiches at the deli next door to take back to Steve’s. Once there they ate like it would be their last meal and, feeling physically tired and full, they were ready for the nap. Steve motioned Hutch to the bedroom. “You take the bed, you’ll sleep better. The couch is fine for me.”
“Hey, man, I don’t want to take you out of your bed…”
“You’re out of yours right now, relax and get the knots out. I’ll crash, I promise.” Steve gave him a gentle push in that direction, hitting the switch that started the ceiling fan and closing the door as he left the room.
Hutch stretched out on the bed, his back immensely grateful, and was asleep immediately.
The smell of coffee and a gentle nudge awakened him sometime later. He looked around confused. The room was dark, the clock said 8:15, and Steve stood over him extending a steaming cup.
“Earth to Ken… hey, you really died in here. How long’s it been since you had a decent night’s sleep?”
“What day is it?”
“Tuesday.”
“Nine weeks and two days,” Hutch replied and turned over to sit up.
“You’re serious.” Steve let go of the cup once he seemed sure Hutch had a good grip.
“Unfortunately.” Hutch sipped the contents of the cup, closing his eyes in appreciation. “I stayed at the hospital a lot right after. Even with having a uniformed guy outside the room, there was an attempt on Starsky and one on me in the parking garage. I tried sleeping at home, but worried about him… I gave up after a couple hours of tossing and turning and went down there anyway. Pretty soon, I stopped going home at night at all. I’d just leave the hospital early enough to swing by, shower and grab clean clothes. Then I brought him home. He had a lot of rough nights at first. It’s a little better now. Getting better all the time.”
“Is it getting better for you too?” Steve sat on the edge of the bed sipping out of his own cup, his eyes locked on the contents.
Hutch stopped his automatic affirmative answer and stared at his temporary partner, suddenly unsure of what he was really asking.
“It’s awkward with his mom here, but that won’t last forever. It’s going to be okay,” Hutch answered as truthfully as he could.
Steve turned to look up from his cup. “I hope so. I like you, Ken. You’re a good cop and a nice guy. I don’t want to see you hurting like you are. Some days you look so wiped out I don’t know how you can put one foot in front of the other.”
Hutch stiffened and felt his defensive walls rise. “I’m okay. I can watch your back, you don’t need to worry…”
“I didn’t say that to make you think I was worried about me. I’m not saying I don’t think you can cut it if we get in a tight spot. I’m saying I… “Steve dropped his gaze and stood, looking uncomfortable. “I’m not saying that… never mind, I don’t need to be saying anything. You’re right, you’re fine. Maybe we’ll both get a couple of days off after this.” Steve turned back to Hutch, his mood tons lighter, the easy, teasing smile firmly back in place. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. My dad has a sailboat. It’s really nice, a thirty-footer. If Starsky’s feeling up to it, maybe we can take her out this weekend. Get him out of the house to tone down the cabin fever and give us a break too. His mom’s welcome, if she wants to come. What do you think?”
Hutch watched the transformation and felt himself smile. “That sounds great. Let’s make tonight count so we get the time off.” Hutch carried his coffee into the bathroom. “I’ll be right out.”
He emptied his bladder, then went to the sink, washed his hands and splashed water over his face. Looking up at his reflection in the mirror as the drips fell to the sink, his mind replayed the earlier conversation. Don’t like me, Steve, not like I’m afraid that look said you meant it. I can’t feel for you back. I can’t… but God it would be so easy. He shuddered as a little voice sneaked the last thought in. He hastily dried off his face and left the bathroom.
Steve drove to the appointed meeting place. The car holding the other two officers was already there. The four men checked their last minute plans, did a radio check and left to take their appointed places at the two locations estimated to be the next hit.
It was shortly after midnight when a dark van drove past. Hutch reached over and nudged his napping partner. “Hey, this might be something. That’s the third time that dark blue van has driven by in the past thirty minutes.” Hutch whispered his information as Steve smoothly straightened in the seat, appearing instantly awake.
Both men remained alert while crouched as inconspicuously as possible in the seat of Steve’s car. Minutes passed and Hutch’s back began screaming at the cramped position. He tried to twist and get some relief but his legs were two long to allow for much accommodation. He jumped when he felt the hand that slid against the lower part of his back. The fingers sought out the knotted muscles like they had radar.
Steve’s hand worked slowly and steadily. Pressing firmly, he began kneading out the knots.
Hutch found it impossible not to relax into the touch; it brought such instant and desperately needed relief. The moisture in his mouth turned to sand and his mind raced with thoughts of what he should or could say. He closed his eyes in frustration and decided silence was the better part of valor at the moment, so he said nothing.
The van drove by again, forestalling the need for conversation and halting the backrub. This time, instead of passing the warehouse, the van slowed and stopped not far from the side gate. Three men all wearing black jumped quickly out. One scaled the fence easily and went instantly to the alarm box against the building’s front door. He apparently disarmed it without difficulty since, when he turned to walk back to the main gate and the two men waiting there, he appeared in no great hurry. They cut the padlock on the chain holding the gate closed and swung the gate open. The three men moved silently to the front door, and after a brief period spent working the lock it too swung open.
Once they were inside, Steve reached for the radio and called the other team. “Zebra Five, come in.”
The radio crackled to life immediately. “This is Z-Five, what you got?”
“Three guys dressed not to impress just went to market. What’s it look like where you are?”
“Nothing going down here. Looks like you win. We’re on our way.”
“Sure, join the party, just come quietly. Hutch and I are going inside. Zebra Three out.”
Hutch reached up to switch off the dome light in the roof of the car and slipped silently out, leaving the door ajar. Steve jogged silently up to the open gate and did a crouching run up to the entrance of the warehouse. Once there he flattened himself at the side of the door, waiting for Hutch to get in place. Both men stood waiting and listening for any sound inside. When nothing was forthcoming, Hutch motioned to Steve, holding up three fingers and doing a countdown, two and one.
On one, both men entered the warehouse. Hutch went high and Steve low. For a split second Hutch marveled at the familiar coordination, then dismissed it as his mind concentrated on the job at hand. The corridors were dark, lit only by the emergency amber lights at either end of the hallway. The hall had three closed doors on either side and another corridor that cut to the left at the far end of the hall.
Hutch gently tried the door handle of the first door. Finding it locked he continued moving forward. Steve tried his first door to find it locked as well. The second door handle Hutch tried turned easily and Hutch eased the door open. There was an office inside. In the dim light he could make out desks and file cabinets and a large glass window that faced the open bay of the warehouse interior. Through that glass partition he could see the movement of the men inside the warehouse. Two of them loaded material onto a wooden pallet, while the third approached driving a forklift. Hutch quickly closed the door and whispered his findings to Steve.
“They’re in the main area of the warehouse, loading up. It doesn’t look like they’ve started spreading the accelerant for the fire yet,” Hutch spoke sotto voice.
Both men jumped with guns drawn at the sound in the hallway behind them as Simmons and Babcock appeared.
“This office has a splendid view, gentlemen. I suggest you step in to appreciate it, while Hutch and I go crash the party from the other side.” Steve moved silently off toward the end of the hall.
Hutch followed Steve as Simmons and Babcock quietly entered the office. He heard Babcock radio for back up as the door silently closed.
Steve stopped at the end of the hall segment that jogged to the left and flattened himself against the wall, listening. Hutch melted against the wall behind him, craning his neck over Steve’s head to see into the main area.
“I can only see two of them right now. Where the fuck is the third guy?” Hutch hissed.
As if in answer to his question he felt a very sharp and painful jab that was unmistakably a gun barrel thrust in his ribs just above his kidney. He drew in a breath and stiffened as a rasping voice croaked, “I’m right here.”
Steve turned when Hutch stiffened, his body already a moving target. Steve’s movement momentarily distracted the man pointing the gun and Hutch used it to his full advantage, pushing the gunman’s arm at the same time he felt the whoosh of air that Steve’s foot made connecting with the man’s jaw. The gunman’s fingers reflexively tightened on the trigger causing the gun to discharge, but the momentum of the push from Hutch and the man’s body flying backward from the force of the kick made the shot go wild.
Steve rendered him unconscious with another blow to the face. He snapped up the firearm and tucked it into his belt as he resumed his position by the entrance to the main warehouse. The shot fired had been heard inside and the two men who had been visible earlier were now nowhere to be seen. Simmons and Babcock had heard it too, and had appeared instantly.
Steve and Hutch exchanged glances and moved stealthily forward. Hutch fanned out to the right side of the building and Steve hugged the wall toward the left. Simmons and Babcock handcuffed the unconscious man to a water pipe before they slowly followed.
Hutch had just passed a pallet piled high with boxes when he heard a telltale grunt. He turned to warn Babcock, but was too late and the boxes came crashing down. Babcock fell under their weight with a strangled yell and Hutch fired at the moving target left exposed by the falling boxes, hitting the man in his leg. The wounded man screamed and fell to the jumbled floor not far from where Babcock was trying to dig himself free. Hutch turned to quickly scan the room for Steve and Simmons, but saw neither. Hutch grabbed a large box to fully free Babcock, when his heart jumped at the sound of gunfire at the other end of the warehouse. He reached to help Babcock stand and check the bleeding gash on the side of his head, only to be waved off.
“I’m okay. I’ll cuff this piece of shit. You go check on our partners.” Hutch knew the cold glint of fear in Babcock’s eyes was echoed in his own. He jogged off in the direction of the shots fired.
He dropped and rolled as more gunfire erupted, coming to rest against a wall. Easing back to his feet he wiped the sweat out of his eyes while he searched in the dim light for either of the other two officers. The hair on the back of his neck began to rise when he heard a scuffling sound behind a wall of crates. He slowly inched in that direction. Craning his neck he peered around a huge crate to see Simmons standing over two men fighting.
Simmons’ weapon was drawn but he was unable to get a clear shot at the two men wrestling on the floor. Steve was held in a strangle hold by a large black man and was unable to break free to give Simmons the opening he was waiting for. Hutch stared, not sure why Steve seemed unable to break away, until the desperate scrambling of the two men surged upright. Once both were standing he knew. In the dim light Hutch saw Steve’s left arm hanging useless at his side, blood dripping off the fingers.
“Let him go, or I’ll shoot the other two guys you came in here with,” Hutch yelled.
“Go ahead! If I hear a gunshot, I’ll break his fucking neck.”
Hutch looked closely but did not see any weapon in the big black man’s hands, but he held Steve in an indefensible chokehold. Steve stopped struggling at the sound of Hutch’s voice; his face was pale and his eyes looked like he was fighting to remain conscious. His shirtfront from the shoulder down was soaked with blood and there was more on the ground.
“We’ve called for back-up. You’re not getting out of here. Don’t make it any worse for yourself, give it up now.” Hutch spoke calmly as he inched forward. Out of his peripheral vision he could see Babcock approaching silently from the left. Keep his undivided attention, he told himself, praying that Babcock’s head wound hadn’t affected his vision.
“You’re only looking at breaking and entering at this point. You didn’t leave the premises with anything.” Hutch continued to speak, his entire focus on the man holding his bleeding partner.
“Yeah, for this job. You think I’m stupid, cop? You think I don’t know you’d nail us for the others once you got a hold of the physical evidence on our clothes and in the van? I am not going to jail. You got that? I’ve been there; I won’t ever go back. So you better just get outta my way. I got nothing to lose by killing this guy, and absolutely nothing to gain if I don’t.”
Hutch looked into dark eyes and read the truth he saw there and it sickened him. I can’t lose another partner, God, I can’t.
Chapter 6
“If you want a hostage, then take me. He’s hurt; he’d only slow you down. Let him go, I’ll come with you.” Hutch moved a little closer. He let his gun slide from the grip in his palm to dangle off one finger. “Here, I’m putting my gun down. Pass him to me and I’ll hand him to Simmons over there. I’ll go with you, no tricks,” Hutch spoke softly.
Steve’s eyes widened in disbelief at the conversation. “No, Ken, don’t. Don’t do that,” Steve begged, his words cut off with a grimace as the chokehold tightened.
“Shut up!” Hutch snapped.
A single shot rang out and Steve fell forward as the grip that had held him so tightly loosened suddenly in death. The black man fell forward, a bullet in the back of his head ending the issue.
Hutch sprinted forward to Steve’s fallen body and Simmons went to assist an unsteady Babcock.
Steve looked up at Hutch with an angry expression. “What the hell were you thinking with that stunt?” Steve demanded, reaching to grasp Hutch’s shirtfront.
“That I wasn’t going to watch another partner buy it.” Hutch’s answer was spoken softly past the lump in his throat. He began searching the fabric of Steve’s clothing to find the injury, then applied pressure there to slow the bleeding.
“Jackass! He’d have killed you, ya know.”
“Maybe.”
“We’d have both been dead then. What good would your sacrifice have been?” Steve asked.
“Both?” Hutch asked confused.
“If you had died, trading yourself for me, Starsky would’ve killed me the moment he heard. It would have been for nothing, man. Bad choice.” Steve gave a weak smile before closing his eyes against the pain of Hutch’s hand pressing on his upper arm.
“Back-up is here. Why is it always after everything’s done, huh?” Simmons asked. “I radioed for another ambulance. I figured Steve wouldn’t mind sharing with Babcock here.” Simmons pulled a low crate over and nudged Babcock to sit on it. “Sit down before you fall down and embarrass yourself,” Simmons barked, but the smile and the caring in his eyes more than removed the sting.
“You doing okay?” Hutch looked at Babcock, who was decidedly green around the edges.
“Starting to feel kinda sick and my vision’s still blurry.”
“Still?” Steve’s voice rose an octave. “You shot the guy holding me with blurred vision?” Steve turned a pleading glance to Hutch. “Tell me he’s kidding.”
EMS had rolled an ambulance for every injury reported, so Hutch rode with Steve and a patrolman drove Steve’s car to Harbor General. The young cop handed Hutch the keys, still looking flushed and wide-eyed from the bloody scene at the warehouse.
“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Hutch said as he pocketed the keys.
“No problem. I hope your partner does okay,” the young cop offered with an extended hand.
Hutch shook it warmly. “Yeah, thanks. I’m sure he will.” Kid, you’re looking at me like I go through partners as fast as Dirty Harry.
Hutch went to the desk to ask about Steve’s location. His intent was to identify himself as his partner and offer to get his wallet and answer all the questions. The secretary already had Steve’s wallet. Steve knew the drill and had sent it out with EMS personnel so Hutch was relegated to the waiting room. He didn’t have long to wait before a physician came out calling his name.
“I’m Ken Hutchinson.” He stood and approached the man dressed in scrubs.
“Hi, I’m Tim Killeen. I’m the surgeon that bought Dr. Bussell’s practice.”
Hutch shook the hand as it was proffered. They know the kid here, that’s why everything has been so slick. “How’s Steve?”
“He’s gonna be fine. Sore as hell for a little while and he’ll have an interesting scar that his mom will hate. All in all he’s lucky. The bullet passed superficially through the soft tissue of the deltoid muscle. It took out a path of skin, like a plow going through the dirt; it made a good-sized indent in the muscle. It’s not going to heal pretty because there’s such a deficit of tissue to pull together. If Steve weren’t in such good shape and his skin was looser…” The doctor shrugged. “But then if my aunt had balls, she’d be my uncle,” Dr. Killeen laughed. “He wants to see you before we take him to surgery. We’re going to clean it up and put it back together as smoothly as we can.”
Surgery. Shit, you were making it sound like a scratch. “Sure, where is he?”
“Follow me.” The doctor turned and keyed the disk on the wall that opened the doors to the inner Emergency room area and wound around to a large room. Steve lay on the gurney there with a nurse and another older man standing nearby.
Hutch approached the bed slowly. His eyes raked over Steve’s arm and the evidence of the treatment he’d received so far. The smell of blood and antiseptic was strong in the room and he glanced into the kick bucket trashcan near the head of the gurney and saw why. It was half full of bloody dressings and the remnants of Steve’s shirt.
“Hey bud, how you doing?” Hutch offered softly, as he stepped next to the stretcher.
Steve turned to face him and gave him a big drug induced smile. “Hey, Ken… I’m fine. Ken this is Dr. Wolffe. He’s one of my dad’s best friends, and you already met Dr. Killeen. He bought my dad’s practice; they still work together some. He and Wolffe-man are going to fix me up, then you can take me home.”
Hutch’s head shot up to search for the validity of that in the doctors’ faces.
“Let’s play the part about going home right away by ear. Shall we?” Dr. Killeen remarked.
“I don’t want to spend the night here. No offense, but I won’t get any rest There will be a million friends of the folks in and out to check on me for them while they’re out of the country. Let me go home and sleep in my own bed. Hutch’ll stay with me, won’t ya? I won’t be alone.” Steve looked in his direction, the effects of the drugs he’d been given causing his speech to slur slightly.
“Sure, I’ll stay with you, either way. You know that I take care of my partners,” Hutch said.
“Yeah, yeah you do. You take good care of ’em. Too good. Some of ’em take advantage of your good nature.” Steve frowned slightly and blinked hard, as if trying to clear his fuzzy vision. “I sound like a cheap drunk.”
“That’s because you are,” Dr. Wolffe remarked with a chuckle. “Stop fighting your pre-op and go to sleep, will you? It’s late, we want to get you done so we can go home.”
“What are you gonna do again?” Steve asked.
“Take you to the OR and put you to sleep. We’re going to debride the wound and undermine the tissue around it to give us some slack to pull it together and close it. You’ll have a little drain for the first few days. Keep it in a sling so there isn’t any tension on the repair. You’ll be fine.”
Steve nodded his understanding, and let his eyes close.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to call your folks?” Dr. Wolffe asked. “You know your mom is going to have a fit when she finds out.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. They’ve planned this cruise for a long time. I’m not at death’s door or anything. If I was I’d say call ’em. We’ll present this as a scratch, and until dad pulls the medical record to read the operative report, we’ll all get away with it. Right? That’s our story and we’re gonna stick to it.” Steve spoke without opening his eyes, his voice getting softer.
“Okay, kid. I’m going to go change clothes.” Dr. Wolffe leaned over and kissed Steve’s forehead, and when he raised up he affectionately ran his hand through Steve’s hair. He cleared his throat self-consciously as he turned and saw Hutch watching him. “I was his dad’s best friend since before he was born. I don’t think I could love him any more if he was my own.”
Hutch nodded his understanding. “If you think it’s safe to send him home after surgery, I will be with him. He won’t be left alone. Just tell me what he needs to have done, if anything, and when you want to see him to check the arm. I’ll have him there.”
“Let’s see how he wakes up. I took his appendix out eighteen years ago and he puked for two days from the anesthesia. We’ll talk when we get done. Nice to have met you Detective…”
“Hutchinson, Ken Hutchinson.”
“Right, sorry I didn’t catch it the first time. Wait with him here until the orderly comes to take him over to the OR, and then if you’ll wait in the surgical waiting room, we’ll come talk to you there.”
“You bet, thank you.”
Steve turned his face to Hutch and fought to focus. “I said you’d stay with me as my ticket outta here. You really don’t have to. I’ll be okay. Just get me home. I’ll sleep everything off until tomorrow anyway.”
“I said I wouldn’t leave you alone and I meant it.” Hutch’s tone left little room for argument. I’ll need to call Huggy to take Starsky to the hospital for his PT tomorrow. He’s gonna love that!
“I had to get my contacts out for surgery. They brought me two pill bottles with saline. They’re over there on the counter somewhere. Keep them for me, will ya? You know I’m blind as a bat without them in.”
Hutch smiled and rubbed his chest at the memory of the last time Steve was without his contacts. “Boy, do I know.” Hutch rested his hand on Steve’s uninjured shoulder, then walked to the counter to pick up the bottles and slip them in his pocket. God, you’re white as a sheet. Where’s your tan, California boy? “How you doing?” Hutch’s voice registered his concern and Steve’s answer was a stuttered sigh and a nod.
The orderly came in to wheel the gurney to the OR and Hutch leaned close to speak gently into Steve’s ear. “You’re going for a ride now, buddy. I’ll be waiting when you get out.”
“I want to go home,” Steve whispered, as the stretcher moved slowly out of the room.
Hutch looked at his watch. It was just after 3 a.m. Too early to wake up Starsky. I better give Dobey a buzz though. Hutch walked back toward the waiting room. Spotting Simmons talking on the wall phone he approached the fellow officer.
“Yes sir, I’ll tell him. ‘Bye.” Simmons hung up and ran his hands wearily over his eyes. “That was Dobey. I let him know Bussell was going to surgery and Babcock is still having tests to see if there are any cracks in that hard head of his.” He let his breath out in a soft snort. “His vision was getting worse by the time we got here,” the levity of before totally gone. “He had big dark, blurry spots in his field of vision.” Simmons looked up at Hutch, eyes bright with worry. “Just a temporary thing though, right? Don’t you figure?” he asked, begging for any reassurance.
“Sure, they’ll check him out. He’ll be okay,” Hutch encouraged, praying it was true.
“How’s Steve?” Simmons asked, lighting his next cigarette off the one he’d just finished.
“He’s in surgery now, but it isn’t too serious. He’ll be sore as hell. I hope he won’t be off long. I sure don’t want to break in another temporary partner.”
“Yeah, I bet. How’s Starsky doing?”
“He’s doing good. Getting better every day. His mom’s here; her cooking will put some of his weight back on.” Hutch went back to sit in one of the chairs against the wall. Babcock nodded and joined him there. We might as well be talking in another language for all we care about what we’re saying. Our partners are in there hurt and right now that’s all there is in the world.
Hutch leaned his head back against the cool wall and closed his tired eyes. He felt like he had a ton of sand under each lid. The next thing he was aware of was a gentle touch on his knee awakening him. He sat up straight and struggled to focus and orient himself. Looking up into the eyes of Dr. Killeen, he remembered where he was and why.
“Detective? Steve’s in the recovery room. He’s fine. Still adamant about going home. When he’s more awake and can keep down a little liquid so I’ll know he can hold down the pain pills, I’ll let you take him home. The nurses will give you discharge instructions on wound care and the number to call for the follow-up appointment. The surgical waiting room is on the second floor. If you’ll go wait up there the nurses will let you know when he can go.”
Hutch stood and shook the doctor’s hand, still fighting to clear his sleep-fogged brain.
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Hutch said goodbye to Simmons and made arrangements to touch bases later, then moved like a zombie to the elevator and rode upstairs. He was struck with a cold sense of déjà-vu as he stepped off the elevator, the signs pointing to the right for surgery and the left for surgical intensive care. He glanced to the left with a shudder. Spent way too much time there. He trudged to the waiting room and sat in a chair against the wall, wiggling to get comfortable as he closed his eyes to doze off again.
The smell of coffee was the next thing to register and he opened his eyes to see a gray-haired lady in a pink smock bustling around the coffeepot in the corner of the room. He searched for a wall clock and saw it was 7:15. He stiffly sat up and stretched. I feel like shit, he thought as he catalogued the stiff muscles. Where’s a phone? I need to call Starsky.
Hutch wobbled over to the coffeepot and poured a welcome cup, then went to the payphone, fumbling the coins out of his pants pocket.
He was almost ready to hang up, believing everyone was still asleep, when Anna’s voice answered. “Hello.”
“Anna, this is Ken. Is David awake?”
“No, he’s still sleeping. He didn’t sleep very well last night.” Her voice held an edge of accusation that said ‘he was worried about you’ as clearly as if she’d spoken the words aloud.
“Don’t wake him then, let him sleep. When he does wake up, please let him know that I will be over at Steve Bussell’s place today. He was shot and superficially wounded during our stakeout last night. I’m still at the hospital now. They’ll be releasing him to go home in a little while. Tell Starsk that I’m taking Steve home and I’ll call him later today after I get some sleep. He’s got the number there if he needs anything. Have him call, doesn’t matter what time.”
The other end of the line was tight with silence for a long moment before Anna spoke. “Are you all right? David will want to know.”
“Yes, I’m fine.” Almost lost another one, is that what you’re thinking?
“I’ll tell him when he wakes up,” Anna replied coldly.
“Thank you. I’ve got to go. ‘Bye.” Hutch hung up and leaned his head against the payphone. Give Starsky my love, he thought grimly. “Yeah, right. If Starsky were to ever tell you about us, you’d wonder why the hell, wouldn’t you?”
Hutch’s sigh turned into a large yawn as he walked over to the lady in the pink smock, snagging one of the doughnuts she was arranging on a tray by the coffeepot with a thankful smile. “I’m waiting for Detective Steve Bussell. He’s in the recovery room. Can you check on him for me? I’m supposed to take him home when he’s ready to go.”
The volunteer nodded and picked up the house phone. Hutch caught her eye and motioned that he was going into the men’s room.
He stood at the urinal to relieve himself, then washed his hands and splashed water on his face. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on each side of the sink, letting the water drip off his face. God, I just want a bed. A real bed and absolute quiet for eight, ten hours. Is that too much to ask? He dried his face and hands before picking up his half-empty cup and returning to the waiting room.
He looked expectantly at the lady at the desk, who smiled. “Your friend will be discharged shortly. They are helping him get dressed and if he doesn’t get nauseated again, he’ll be ready to go.”
“Thank you,” Hutch answered as he sat down again. Nauseated again, poor Steve. Got to remember to take something with us in case he gets sick in the car.
A short time later a nurse wheeled Steve through the doorway. The navy blue of the sling on his left arm stood out starkly against his bare chest. All evidence of his normal tan had faded to a sickly gray. He sat very still in the chair, his right elbow resting on the wheelchair’s armrest and his hand holding up his head, shielding his eyes from the light. Hutch could see the fine tremble in his fingers.
“Do you have an emesis basin we can take with us, just in case?” Hutch asked. His eyes fell on Steve when he peeled back the corner of the blanket over his lap, revealing the emesis basin resting there. “Never mind, my partner has it covered.”
Steve groaned at the pun. “Home, James. I need to lay down.”
Hutch fished the keys out of his pocket. “I’ll go bring the car around. Meet you where?” Hutch looked questioningly at the nurse.
“Outside the front lobby, please.”
Hutch leaned forward to touch Steve’s bare arm. “I’ll be right back.” After seeing Steve nod weakly, Hutch jogged down the hall to catch the elevator and go get the car.
The ride to Steve’s was hard on the injured man. Every movement of the car, no matter how carefully Hutch drove, was painful and the nausea came back in full force. Hutch stole a look over at the pale man in the passenger seat as they stopped at a red light. Steve was leaning forward, his head resting on the dash after the latest bout of dry heaves. Hutch’s hand rested lightly on his back, rubbing what he hoped were comforting circles over the cold clammy skin. He inched up the bloody jacket he’d put around Steve’ shoulders when they got in the car only to have him shrug it off again.
“It’s hot,” Steve answered for the motion.
“Want me to pull over and let you lie down in the backseat? Think that would help?” Hutch voiced his concern.
“Nah, just keep going. I’ll be okay once I get home.” Steve closed his eyes as the car began moving forward and another wave of nausea hit. By the time Hutch pulled the car up to the curb, Steve was shaking all over like a man with the chills.
“You sure I don’t need to turn around and take you back?” Hutch asked before turning off the car.
“No, please, the drive would kill me.” Steve wiped his mouth with a tissue and dropped it in the basin with a shaking hand.
Hutch killed the engine and got out of the car to open Steve’s door and help him inside. Glad you don’t have stairs to navigate. “Easy now, babe.” His mind jolted that the endearment he’d used for Starsky for so many years had slipped out so easily.
Hutch fumbled with the keys at the front door until he got the correct one and steered Steve into the bedroom. He tossed back the covers and eased Steve down to the bed. He knelt down to pull off Steve’s boots and socks, then hesitated for a second before pulling him to his feet again. “Here, stand up a second, it’ll be easier than having you lift your hips and put weight on your shoulder.”
He unfastened Steve’s belt and slid the jeans down his long legs, letting them pool around his ankles as he nudged him to sit back down. He tugged Steve’s feet free before swinging the long legs up onto the bed. Hutch pulled the covers up over the shaking man, then went to the bathroom and wet a washcloth. Returning to the bed he gently wiped it over Steve’s face. “How you doing? Things still spinning?”
“Yeah, but slower now,” Steve replied, trying to smile.
“How’s the pain? You want to try and drink something, maybe eat a cracker or some toast? If you get something in your stomach, maybe you’ll feel better. I’d bet you’d have a better chance of keeping your pain pills down that way.”
“They gave me a shot just before I left, so the pain’s not too bad. I just want to go back to sleep. There are some ice packs in the freezer, if you’ll bring me one of those. Tim said if I could keep the swelling down there’d be less stress on the sutures, and it wouldn’t hurt so much.”
“Sure, I’ll be right back. Sure you don’t want to try and drink anything?”
“Believe me, I’m sure.”
Hutch easily found the cold packs and wrapped one in a clean kitchen towel. Steve hadn’t moved a muscle in his absence. He gently placed the ice inside the sling against the bandage. “Sorry,” he apologized at Steve’s inward hiss of breath.
“It’s okay, you didn’t hurt me. Your hand on my chest when you raised up the sling was cold.”
Hutch chuckled and wiped the small pinch of frost from the icepack off Steve’s chest. “Sorry. You need anything else?”
“Yeah, you to lie down here, shut up and go to sleep so I can.”
Hutch straightened abruptly at the request. “Yeah, I’m going to sack out, but… I… I’ll go out on the couch.”
“Ken, it’s a king-sized bed, for God sake, and it’s a serf-sized couch. As much as I’d like to, I’m in no shape to jump your bones. Lie down. Keep your clothes on if it will make you feel better. Don’t be an idiot.”
As much as you’d like to? Oh my God. Hutch stood a second longer frozen to the spot. He was galvanized into action as Steve swallowed hard and opened his eyes, searching for the emesis basin as he tried weakly to sit up.
Hutch grabbed it off the nightstand and slipped his arm under Steve’s neck to raise his head. He held on to the shaking man as he dry heaved a few more times, each heave punctuated by a soft moan. As the nausea appeared to subside Hutch eased him down and wiped his face with the wet cloth.
Steve reached out with his good hand and grasped Hutch’s wrist. “You poor schmuck, you can’t get a break on partners, can you?” Steve took the cloth from Hutch and flopped it over his eyes.
“I was thinking that you were probably wondering what the hell you signed on for.”
“Yeah, I’m still trying to figure that out,” Steve replied softly as he drew the cloth off his eyes to set the green look fully on Hutch. “What kind of guy offers his life up for a partner he hardly knows? Starsky’s a lucky sonofabitch. I hope he knows that.”
Hutch opened his mouth to respond when Steve cut him off. “Go to sleep, you look like hell.”
Hutch eased down on the bed, careful not to jostle it as he toed off his shoes and slid fully clothed under the blankets.
He slept so soundly that when the ringing of the phone awakened him, he was confused as to where he was. After a second to reorient he eased off the bed and headed to the kitchen, snagging the phone off the wall.
“Hello.”
“Steve?” a frightened sounding woman’s voice replied.
“Ah, no this is Ken Hutchinson. I’m Steve’s partner. He’s sleeping right now. May I take a message?”
“This is his mother. How is he really?” Her voice sounded one hundred percent business.
“He’s okay. He had a little trouble with some nausea while the anesthetic was wearing off, but he’s been okay since he went to sleep shortly after I got him home.” Hutch gave as honest a report as he could.
“Why didn’t he stay in the hospital? Tim told us he suggested that.”
“His wish was to come home unless it was medically dictated otherwise. His doctor opted to let him since he was assured Steve wouldn’t be left alone. I’m here.”
“You’re staying?” she challenged.
“He’s my partner,” Hutch answered, believing that said everything that needed to be said.
“He’s had partners before…” She let anything else she had planned to say fade away.
Hutch could hear the bass rumble of a man speaking but couldn’t make out the words. “Please tell Steve I called, and to beep his father’s beeper when he wakes up and we’ll call back. I’m really upset that he didn’t call immediately.”
“He didn’t want to spoil your cruise. He…”
“I can take other cruises, Detective. I only have one son.”
“Yes ma’am. I understand. He really is fine. If there had been any doubts about that, I would have insisted he stay in the hospital myself.”
“You’re sure you’re free to stay there? Your Captain isn’t going to call you out to work in an hour and he’s left there all alone?”
“No, he won’t be alone. I’m not going anywhere, I give you my word,” Hutch promised.
“Okay, thank you. I… Steve has said some very nice things about you. We’re looking forward to meeting you when we get back. I’ll do my best to make a better first impression.” There was a teasing lilt to her voice and Hutch could almost see what expression she’d be wearing. Must be where Steve gets it.
“No harm, no foul. I’ll be sure to tell him you called and to beep when he wakes up.”
“Thank you, ‘bye now.”
“Goodbye.”
Hutch slowly hung up the phone thinking about the conversation and pondering why Steve’s mother’s concern didn’t rankle him the way Starsky’s mother’s did. Starsky… oh shit. I hope he hasn’t watched the news yet.
Hutch looked at the clock on the stove and groaned. I’m fucked, it’s after three. I’m sure we made the noon edition. “Damn, I can’t get a break. He’s going to be furious.”
He went to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer before going back to the phone and dialing his number.
“Yeah.”
“Hey, babe. How ya feeling?” Hutch asked.
“Fine, how are you?” Starsky’s voice sounded like he was speaking to a superficial acquaintance rather than his lover of years.
“I’m okay. Tired. I slept for a few hours, but I’ll feel better after a good night tonight.”
“Where will that be?”
“What?”
“Where are you spending the night?” Starsky asked, voice icy.
“I… I need… Steve isn’t able to do anything with one arm right now, and he’s pretty shaky. The anesthesia made him really sick, he keeps throwing up. He didn’t want to stay in the hospital but his folks are out of the country and there wasn’t anybody…”
“Just say you’re not coming home. That’s the bottom line. I don’t need all the bells and whistles.”
“I’m not coming home,” Hutch replied tightly, resenting Starsky’s tone. “I’m sorry I bothered you with a reason. I thought you might like to know why.”
“But I do know why, buddy. You take care of your partners.” Starsky made the word sound profane. “Who would know that better than me?”
“Starsky… don’t do this. Please.”
“Please what, Hutch? Please don’t make any demands? Please don’t be too weak to be back at work so we’re partners again? Please flaunt our private life in front of the whole world regardless of the consequences? Please tell my mother about us so I upset her so much she has a fucking heart attack and dies? Please what, Hutch? I’m a little confused with all the choices. Narrow it down for me, will ya?”
“I need to stay here and take care of Steve until his folks get back or at least until he can keep something on his stomach and get around a little by himself.” Hutch waited for a comment but there was only silence at the other end of the line.
“Starsky? What do you want me to do? Just leave him here? Is that what you’d do? He’d be taking care of me if the shoe was on the other foot.” Hutch heard a quick intake of breath from Starsky as that comment registered.
“If the shoe was on the other foot I’d be on the phone to Dobey saying the guy wasn’t good enough to be your partner and to get your ass to Records before that sonofabitch gets you killed.”
“That sounds more like the Starsky I know and love,” Hutch replied.
“I’m sorry,” Starsky’s whisper barely carried over the phone. “I’m being a shit, I know it. I can’t help it. I thought I’d feel less scared with you having somebody to watch your back on the street. I’m not. I’m just as scared as I was and now I’m scared of other things I wasn’t scared about before.”
“Such as?”
“Such as somebody coming between us.”
“What?” Hutch’s temper flared, fanned by his guilt.
“He just seemed to move in so smoothly, taking care of you, helping us out. Now he’s hurt and you’re taking care of him, and I want you here taking care of me!”
“Starsky, your mother’s there. I’ve been pre-empted. Steve hasn’t moved in on anything. He’s gone out of his way to consider your feelings. Before he got hurt he invited us, your mom too, sailing this weekend. Does that sound like somebody trying to come between us?”
“Hutch, you are the most naïve, smart man I’ve ever known.” Starsky sighed.
“Look, I’m sorry about the tension between us lately. I can’t help how I feel about your mother being here and you can’t help how you feel about Steve. We’ve got to just hang on until things are back to normal, okay?” Hutch ran a hand over his face waiting for a reply. When none came, he continued. “Can you do that?” Or are we in more trouble than I think?
“When are you coming home?” Starsky’s voice sounded strained.
“As soon as I can. I’ll see how Steve is in the morning. I have to drive him to the doctor’s to have his arm checked tomorrow. They may pull the drain then. If he’s able to eat and drink and keep it down, he should be feeling better soon. He’s off the duty roster all next week for sure. The doctor will check and see if he’ll release him for light duty the week after, we’ll see. So I’m partnerless again. I’m beginning to feel like Dirty Harry.” Hutch tried to lift the mood with a joke.
“Yeah, well, you carry a big enough gun,” Starsky responded to the joke. “Just be sure you don’t do anything to make anybody’s day but mine. Got it?”
Hutch felt himself bristle at the threat. “Or?” he challenged.
“Or you’ll be partnerless a lot longer than you think.”
“Are you threatening Steve or me?” All traces of the earlier humor were gone.
“Don’t push to find out.”
“I haven’t seen you with green eyes since we ran into Jack in Vegas. I’m usually the one with the rampant insecurities.”
“This conversation isn’t getting us anywhere. Besides, Dial-A-Ride is here to take me to PT. I gotta go.”
“Dial-A-Ride?”
“Yeah, I used to have a friend who took me, but he’s been unavoidably detained. I made other arrangements. See ya around.” The line went dead with a forceful click.
“Fuck,” Hutch swore as he replaced the phone. He looked in on Steve to find him sleeping soundly and returned to the living room to sit on the couch and stare at the TV, the volume down all the way.
The room began getting darker as the sun set and still Hutch stayed where he was. Starsky’s conversation on the phone played round and round in his head, chasing after the words Steve said when Hutch had helped him to bed. ‘Much as I’d like to I’m not in any shape to jump your bones,’ and ‘don’t make anybody else’s day but mine.’ I haven’t seen Starsky jealous since Jack.
A sound in the doorway startled him out of his reverie and he turned to see Steve shuffling toward the refrigerator.
“Hey, buddy, what do you need? I’ll get it.” Hutch sprang off the couch and joined Steve in the kitchen.
“Thirsty,” Steve replied weakly. “My head wants a beer, but my stomach says I better stick with ginger ale.”
“Yeah, I agree with your stomach. Go sit down and I’ll get it.”
Steve moved as directed to the couch and eased down on it. Looking at the TV on with no sound he looked back at Hutch. “Practicing your lip reading?” he asked with a grin.
“Yeah. I’m getting pretty good, too.” Hutch walked from the kitchen carrying Steve’s drink.
“Here, you want to try and eat something too?”
“Let’s not push that envelope just yet, okay?”
Hutch flipped on the table lamp. He sat down next to Steve, who took the glass and sipped at its contents.
Steve closed his eyes and paused to rub at them under his glasses, then rested his head on the back of the couch for a second before he raised up to turn and look at Hutch. “Have you talked to Starsky?” Steve asked.
“Yeah, I talked to him a while ago. Let him know I was okay and was going to be here with you.”
“I’ll bet that went over big.” Steve laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. Steve looked hard at Hutch for a second before he spoke. “I’m okay. You don’t have to stay here.”
“I promised your mom. Speaking of which…” Hutch reached to pass a piece of paper to Steve. “Here’s the beeper number, I’m sure you already know it. Your mom wants you to beep and they’ll call back.”
“Shit! My mother called? Was she a bear?”
“No, not as bad as I would have expected, given what you said about how she’d feel about not knowing.”
“She didn’t give you a hard time?”
“No, she just wanted to know you were really okay, and that someone was with you.”
“Did you tell her I didn’t want to ruin her cruise?” Steve asked.
“Yeah, and that didn’t go over big.” Hutch chuckled with the memory.
“I’ll bet.” Steve sighed. “Give me a hand up. I might as well call her and get it over with.” Steve reached up his good hand and Hutch helped him up off the low couch.
Steve sat on the kitchen chair by the phone to dial the number and hung up waiting for the return call, which came almost immediately. Hutch turned the volume of the TV up slightly and made an honest effort to pay attention to what was on the screen while Steve was talking. When Steve hung up he walked back to sit next to Hutch on the couch.
“Well, it could have been worse. She only cried twice and I haven’t been disinherited.”
“You’re in better shape than me, then,” Hutch answered grimly, remembering his last phone conversation with his parents.
“You must be starving. Want to order a pizza?” Steve asked.
“Sure, you think your stomach can take it?” Hutch looked at Steve dubiously.
“I said you must be starved. I think a bowl of cereal sounds like the most I can handle. There might be some other stuff in there. I think I’ve got some deli stuff if you want to make a sandwich and a salad.” Steve started to push up off the couch again and grimaced with the movement.
“Just stay put. I can get it” Hutch went to the kitchen and rummaged around until he found the bowls and the cereal and got Steve set up to eat off the coffee table in the living room, then went back to put together a sandwich.
Bringing his food to the couch Hutch sat down. He peered into the mostly empty bowl and nodded in satisfaction. “Feel like risking putting your antibiotic in with that?” Hutch asked.
“Yeah, better now than later, I guess. One of the pain pills too, please. That shot’s long gone and it aches like hell.”
Hutch laid his plate down and went to the kitchen to get Steve’s pills and water to take them with. Shaking them out into Steve’s hand he had the eerie feeling of instant replay of all the times he’d done the same for Starsky over the past months.
They sat and watched the late evening news in comfortable silence. When Hutch noticed that Steve’s eyes were at half-mast he nudged him gently. “Let’s get you back to bed, before I have to carry you. My back can’t take it.”
“I’m heavier than Dave,” Steve replied blankly. He looked at Hutch, his eyes glazed somewhat from the medication. “You really don’t have to stay, I’ll be okay here. I don’t want to be the reason you have a problem at home.”
“No problem, what are you talking about? I told Starsk where I was, he knows.” Hutch moved to help Steve stand.
“Yeah, he knows but I bet he doesn’t like it.” Steve swayed slightly when Hutch pulled him to his feet. “I know I wouldn’t.” Steve looked up into Hutch’s face and his hand reached out to trace Hutch’s lower lip with his thumb, a whisper soft touch that Steve followed with his eyes. “My god, but you are beautiful.”
Steve, please don’t… things are fucked up enough.
Steve looked back up to Hutch’s eyes. “Sorry, that slipped out.” He lowered his head to rest briefly on Hutch’s chest as he turned to start walking in the direction of the bedroom. “I’m not at my best right now, excuse me.”
Hutch followed Steve to the bathroom door as Steve motioned the need to make a detour. Waiting for Steve to come out, Hutch straightened the bed and made a quick trip to the kitchen to trade out the ice packs as he tried to put the feel of Steve’s electric touch out of his mind and its effects away from his groin.
Steve emerged after taking care of business and walked unsteadily to the bed. Hutch grabbed him to steady his landing on the mattress and helped ease his legs up on the bed. Hutch covered him and removed his glasses, setting them on the night table. He was about to turn out the light and go back to the TV when Steve’s touch on his arm halted him.
“I was really hoping for a home at Rampart I like it there. But I don’t think it would be a smart move,” Steve offered sadly.
“Why?” Hutch asked, confused.
“It feels like a no-win scenario. Maybe it’ll make more sense when I’m not blitzed on painkillers, but now there just doesn’t seem to be…” Steve closed his eyes and took a breath then started again. “If Starsky doesn’t get the okay to come back in full capacity and he’s profiled to a desk job, then unless I really screw up, I’ll probably be assigned as his replacement. I’d be partnered with you. That would be hard.” He held up his hand to ward off Hutch’s impending interruption. “Let me finish. If he does come back and I stay in the precinct and am partnered with somebody else… that’ll be harder.” Steve looked up with his big green eyes shining out of a flushed face and looked so lost it tugged at Hutch’s heart.
“Hey, you’re talking about something that won’t be decided for a while yet. Let’s see how things go. You may decide you want to go back to Vice to stay healthy.” Hutch tried to lighten the moment with a joke.
“What happened wasn’t your fault. Don’t you dare take that on, you hear me?” Steve’s sleepy eyes flashed flint.
“I guess if you stick around it won’t make me look too bad, but if you bail what else are people going to think?” Hutch let the sentence dangle.
“Get outta here. I almost fell for that.” Steve released Hutch’s arm and surrendered to a huge yawn. “There are scrubs from my dad’s office on the shelf in the closet if you want something more comfortable to sleep in. Thanks for staying, man.” Steve snuggled deeper into the pillows, getting his arm settled and nodded that he was ready for the ice that Hutch held.
“Holler if you need anything. I’ll be in the living room for a while yet.” Hutch let his hand brush back the strawberry blond hair off Steve’s forehead, then regretted the motion and let his hand drop quickly away.
Hutch walked quietly out of the bedroom, unwilling to examine any of the things Steve had revealed under the influence of the pain pills, and equally unwilling to look at any of the things he himself was feeling under the influence of Steve. Starsky, I wish I could talk to you, but somehow it feels like it would only make everything worse.
***
The next week passed by in a whirl for Hutch. If he’d been put on a rack he couldn’t have felt more pulled. Steve had done poorly with his oral medication and continued to vomit that first night. It necessitated a trip back to the hospital the next morning when it became obvious that he couldn’t keep the pain pills down long enough to obtain any lasting pain relief and dehydration was becoming an issue. He was readmitted without question. Going back to Steve’s apartment to pick up a few items to take back to the hospital for him, Hutch had called to check on Starsky.
That call yielded the information from Starsky’s mother, imparted with an acerbic tone, that Starsky was at the doctor’s office having one of the wounds on his back checked. It seemed that he had worked a bit too hard in PT and caused an opening of one of the incisions. The doctor would look at it and decide if he would need to take Starsky back to the hospital to close it or if he could handle it there. When Hutch had rushed over to the doctor’s office, he had run into Starsky and Huggy coming out the door.
“Starsky, what happened, are you okay, babe?”
“What the hell do you care?” Starsky pushed past Hutch to continue out the office entrance into the parking lot.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Hutch followed, angrily.
“It means you haven’t been around to see what’s gone down, man, so don’t go asking for the abridged version now,” Huggy answered as he wormed his way in between his two friends.
“You stay out of this.” Hutch pointed a warning finger in Huggy’s direction and charged after Starsky, blocking his retreat to the car.
“What did the doctor say? How did you open up something in the first place?”
“The doctor said I was trying too hard. I stressed things before they could take it. How did I do it? Trying too hard, now get outta my way.”
“Starsky, wait a minute.” Hutch reached for his lover’s arm to steer him toward his own car to have the chance for a little privacy. “Please, let’s just…”
Starsky jerked his arm free. “Let’s just nothing. I’m angry right now, and I’m going to stay that way. I’m mad at you for being gone and I’m mad at me for not getting well fast enough. That’s not a good combination right now, Hutch. So go back to work, or back to Steve’s or wherever the hell you think you need to be right now as long as it isn’t anywhere near me!”
Starsky got into Huggy’s car and slammed the door, leaving Hutch to stand stunned and alone in the parking lot as the Cadillac drove away.
Hutch slowly returned to his own car, driving back to Metro to finish the paperwork from the arson investigation and give the depositions to the DA as the officer of record while Steve was recuperating.
Hutch sat at his desk after finishing everything for that day wondering where the hell to go. It had been a week to the day since the shooting and he still felt off balance and unsettled. Wish I had the weekend off, I’d get in the car and just drive. He wanted desperately to go home, but not to the battlefield that home had become these past few days with Starsky. One more night on that fucking couch and I’ll be out on disability! Steve was out of the hospital and doing fine, so there was no reason for Hutch to crash at his house. Except that he’d let me. Huggy’s place flashed in his mind but was discounted. He never was comfortable in that apartment over the bar, too many memories of the days there with Starsky and the agony of a cold-turkey withdrawal.
He finally chose home and steered his car in that direction with a hope that he could hide behind a book and a beer, at least until everyone went to bed.
He let himself into the coolness of his apartment, smelling whatever wonderful dish Anna had prepared for tonight. The food’s been the only up side to this thing.
“Hi. Boy, something sure smells great.” Hutch gave his standard greeting with the same forced lightness he’d been using.
Anna looked up and gave him a smile. Well, we’ve come full circle, old girl. You’re the only one living here who’s glad to see me.
“It’s almost ready. You’ve got time for a shower if you want,” she replied, stirring something on the stove.
“That sounds good. Where’s your son?”
“He went to pick up some French bread at the store.”
“You should have called. I’d have grabbed it on the way home,” Hutch said, sticking his fingers in the meringue of the pie cooling on the counter.
Anna slapped at his hand. “I think he just wanted an excuse to get out of here, even for a little while.”
“The doctor hasn’t really cleared him to drive.” Hutch frowned at the thought.
“No, but he doesn’t take the strong painkillers in the daytime anymore so I guess he thinks it’s okay. I tried to have him ask the doctor at the last visit, but…”
“Yeah, I know how that goes. He didn’t ask, so he took the fact that the doctor didn’t say he couldn’t to mean it was okay.”
“He’s a lot like his father.”
“How long were you married?”
“Sixteen years.”
“My hat’s off to you,” Hutch answered with a genuine smile and headed for the shower. Especially if he was anything like Starsky.
Starsky was home when Hutch came out buttoning his shorts and shrugging into a T-shirt. While Anna was bustling around in the kitchen Hutch tried to gauge the mercurial mood of his lover. Starsky looked up from the newspaper and smiled, a hint of the usual appreciation of Hutch’s body as he tugged the T-shirt down over his belly. Starsky’s long fingers reached out to tickle the last bit of disappearing flesh. Stealing a quick glance at the stove area he stood up to give Hutch a quick kiss. Hutch would have given anything to have crushed Starsky to him and forget all about dinner. He gave his lover a look that he knew conveyed that hunger, then, smiling sadly at the impossibility, turned away.
Dinner was less strained than lately and Hutch began to feel there might be hope for the evening. As Anna dished up the pie for dessert, Starsky looked over with a hesitant smile that stopped Hutch’s heart. Warning bells began to clamor.
“Ma’s decided she’s had all of us she can stand and she’s going to go visit her sister Rosie for a few days before she heads back home.”
“I haven’t seen my sister in years. It would be a shame not to spend some time with her when I’m so close.”
“Sure it would,” Hutch answered. “How much can you cook ahead and freeze before you go?” he teased.
“I’ve got the freezer full already, I’m way ahead of you.” Anna tousled Hutch’s damp hair. “We thought we’d leave in the morning so we wouldn’t be fighting commuter traffic. It’s not too far. A little less than a hundred miles. We should get in before lunchtime, even giving David a chance to stop and rest if he needs to.”
Hutch’s gaze shot to his partner in disbelief. Starsky’s smile was faltering as he saw the sudden anger Hutch was sure his face clearly conveyed.
“You think you’re up to a road trip, partner?” Hutch asked, fighting to keep his voice steady.
“It’s 99 miles to Colton. It’s near San Bernardino. It’s not like I’m driving across the desert to Vegas,” Starsky offered lamely.
“No, but I’ll bet you haven’t mentioned your plans to your doctor and gotten his okay. Have you?”
“I’m not on narcotics all the time anymore. Sometimes I don’t take anything at all during the day unless it’s right after PT. I just take one pain pill at night to sleep. You’re making a big deal about this…”
Hutch’s jaw tightened and he knew Starsky could see it. Hutch leaned forward. “Outside, now.”
Hutch took his dish to the sink and stepped out into the greenhouse, leaving the door open for Starsky to follow.
“Outside, now? Who the hell do you think you are?” Starsky hissed. “Ordering me around like some kid…”
“Who do I think I am? I’m the guy who stood at an ICU window and watched them shock your heart into beating a couple of months ago. There is no way you’re strong enough to drive that car of yours in stop and go freeway traffic, even if it is the weekend, all the way to San Bernardino.”
“How do you expect her to get there, then?” Starsky asked hotly.
“I don’t care, as long as it isn’t you driving her. Let her take a bus.”
“You’ve got to be kidding! No way am I putting my mother on a bus to make the trip. It would take twice as long, not to mention the lowlifes that hang around a bus station.” Starsky’s voice was getting louder. “No way in hell! This is my mother we’re talking about here.”
“This is my lover we’re talking about here, or has it been so fucking long since we’ve done anything but a quick hand-job in the bathroom, you forgot that?”
Starsky turned back to look guiltily to the kitchen where Anna Starsky was running the water in the sink doing the dishes. “Keep your voice down. You let her hear you and I’ll…”
“You’ll what?” Hutch demanded. “Cut me off? Make me sleep on the couch? Give me such a ration of shit every time I come through the door that I hate to come home?” Hutch moved menacingly closer. “What was it you said a while ago? Help me out here, there are too many choices to count?'”
Starsky opened his mouth to speak but Hutch waved him off. “Tell you what. You go ahead, do whatever you want. Take your mom to Timbuktu for all I care. If you’re smart, you’ll at least borrow Huggy’s car so you have air conditioning and an automatic with cruise control instead of pounding that heavy-duty Hirst clutch in the Torino. But, hey, you do what you want. What I want doesn’t hold water anymore so you go ahead. I’m out of the picture.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Starsky demanded, his mouth set in a grim line.
“Just what it sounds like, partner. Have a good trip. Don’t wake me up if I’m here when you leave, providing I actually manage to fall asleep on that fucking couch, and don’t hurry back. Take your time; visit with your family. The family here doesn’t mean anything to you anymore. If I’m not here when you get back… hell, how long would it take you to even notice?”
Hutch pushed past the fuming man to re-enter the apartment. He went calmly to the kitchen and kissed Anna on the cheek. “Thank you for coming to look after us. I know it meant a lot to David to spend the time with you. Have a safe trip. I… I have to go out for a while. You’ll probably be asleep when I get back. I’m working in the morning so I’ll say goodbye now.” Hutch ripped his jacket off the hook by the door and shrugged into the shoulder holster hanging under it. He turned to give Anna a last look, seeing Starsky at the entrance to the greenhouse. He blew Anna a kiss and glanced at the closed and angry countenance of his lover. You can’t even look at me, you bastard. You’ll just let me leave. Waiting for some signal from Starsky that never came, Hutch sighed, closing the door softly as he left.
It was almost midnight when he knew he had to stop somewhere since he was no longer safe to drive. Between falling asleep from fatigue and the buzz of the beers from the several bars along the beach he’d stopped, he was an accident waiting to happen. He pulled up to a payphone and dialed.
I don’t want to barge in on something if you’re busy.
“Please don’t be busy,” he whispered, as he waited for an answer on the other end of the line. He rested his forehead against the phone. Feeling his heart pounding he began to shiver as if it was cold outside. Maybe I’m just that cold inside, he thought, stifling a drunken giggle.
“Hello,” a sleepy voice answered.
“Steve?” Hutch straightened. “Sorry to wake you, buddy. I….ah…”
“Hutch? Ken, what’s the matter. Where are you?”
“I’m down by the marina. I… I’ve had a little too much to drink…”
“Tell me where exactly. I’ll be right there.”
“No, I can get to your place. I’ll take back streets. It’s only a few miles. I just… I need a place to crash tonight, if you don’t mind. I’m tired, Steve. I’m so fucking tired.” Hutch’s head fell to rest once more on the payphone and he let out a breath.
“Hey, I’m dressed and ready to walk out the door. Where are you? Tell me and park your car.” Steve’s voice left no room for debate.
“I’ll park in the Carl’s Jr. parking lot on Front Street. Thanks.” Hutch hung up the phone feeling sad and old and very drunk.
Hutch sat in the car, his forehead resting on his hands where they gripped the top of the steering wheel. Behind his closed lids he saw the flickering light of a car pull up next to him, but was too tired to look up. The slam of a car door was followed by a soft knock on his half-open window.
“Come on, let me get you home.” Steve voice was soft and Hutch followed it out of his car and into Steve’s.
“No, not home… I can’t go there right now…” Hutch slurred and pulled back, resisting Steve’s drag on his arm.
“Okay, my place. Want to tell me what brought on the drinking spree?” Steve asked, no recrimination in his tone.
“No, not right now. I’m not thinking too clearly and I don’t know how it might come out.”
“Are you okay?”
“I guess. I don’t know for sure about that either.”
Steve didn’t ask anything else and Hutch gratefully closed his eyes. A shake on his shoulder indicated their arrival and Hutch lurched out of the car, stumbling slightly as he moved toward the doorway.
Steve steadied him as he unlocked and opened the door, allowing Hutch to precede him into the apartment. Hutch stood blinking slightly at the lights, then set his gaze on the blank place in the room where the chair Steve had loaned for Starsky’s mother to sleep on used to be. “You’ll be getting your chair back. She’s leaving in the morning.”
“Is that what the fight was about?”
“What fight?”
“The one that sent you out of your own house to a bar all night.”
“Well, not all night…”
“Starsky’s already called here twice looking for you.” Steve reached out to drag off Hutch’s jacket and remove the holster and the gun it carried. “What did you do, turn off the car radio?”
“Yeah. If he calls again you tell him nothing’s changed, you still haven’t seen me.” Hutch swayed as he walked the few steps remaining to the couch, then flopped heavily onto it. “He’s driving her to her sister’s. I told him he wasn’t strong enough to make the trip. He hasn’t been medically cleared to drive. He still gets short of breath at the drop of a hat. But will he listen? NO! He’s doing it anyway. So, fine. I’m just so tired of fighting all the time. If I say black, he says white. If I ask him not to do something, that’s the thing he’s going to do if it kills him. We used to be really tuned in to each other. We did whatever it took to please the other. He was happiest when he was making me happy and it was the same with me doing things to please him.” Hutch looked up at Steve who stood next to the couch. “What happened to that?”
Steve sat down next to Hutch and rested his arm around Hutch’s shoulders. The touch was tentative at first as if Steve was waiting to see if it would be roughly refused. When Hutch leaned in to the warmth of the touch, Steve tightened it.
Hutch let Steve draw his head down to his shoulder and felt long slender fingers card through his hair. His brain was fuzzy, but not so much so that it couldn’t recognize and appreciate how hungry he was for the closeness. The physical aspect of his relationship with Starsky had been so severely curtailed these past weeks that being enfolded in safe and welcoming arms sang sweetly through him like new wine. He felt the soft warm breath of Steve’s mouth against his temple and focused on the whispers of comfort being offered there.
Hutch leaned back, struggling to focus on the green eyes behind the glasses Steve was wearing. “You weren’t already dressed when I called, you liar. You were in bed asleep,” Hutch slurred.
“How do you know that?” Steve asked, smiling.
“‘Cause you’re wearing your glasses. You don’t take your contacts out until the very last thing.”
“Got me.” Steve chuckled.
Hutch looked up into Steve’s face and felt such a fiery need begin to build. I feel like I’m falling, but I don’t care. I don’t know if there‘s anything to hold on to anymore, and right now I don’t care about that either. Hutch reached up and removed Steve’s glasses and set them carefully on the coffee table. “Don’t forget who I am and kick me into next week again, okay?”
“I can see you.”
“Good.” I’m drowning. Hutch framed the face between his fingers and drew Steve’s mouth to his. He rested his lips softly against the warmth there, taking his time to mold their lips together before he parted his and reached out with his tongue to gain entrance past Steve’s lips. Steve’s mouth willingly opened and Hutch found himself kissed back with an increasing passion.
After a few moments, Steve made a groaning sound in his throat and pulled back. “This probably isn’t a good idea.”
“Why?” Oh, God, please don’t push me away. I need… Hutch felt cold and alone in the enforced distance.
“Because you said yourself you aren’t thinking too clearly. I don’t want you to feel like I pushed a home field advantage on you in the morning. Don’t get me wrong, kissing you again would probably make me cream my jeans, but I don’t want it this way.”
“I’m the one who kissed you. I’m not going to think you took unfair advantage. I started it,” Hutch reasoned, amazed that he sounded almost sober.
Hutch moved slowly back to Steve’s mouth again, trembling in the sweetness of it. Feeling the hard, strong arms fasten around him, he crushed Steve against him, realizing it had been so long since he had taken such care not to hold too tightly. The equal strength in the embrace was a rush and it flooded his head, making him dizzy. He could feel Steve’s raging hard-on pressing against his hip and he reached out a hand to press against it. Steve sucked strongly on Hutch’s tongue in response and pressed harder into his hand.
With a gasp that bordered on a sob, Steve pulled back. “Not here. If we’re going to take this further I want the room to do it right.” He stood and extended his hand. When Hutch met it with his own, Steve entwined their fingers and led Hutch to the king-sized bed in the next room.
“Have you ever been with any other man before?” Steve asked.
“N-no.” It’s not too late, you can get out of here, Hutchinson.
“Had Starsky been with any other man before you?” Steve pushed, his hands rubbing circles over Hutch’s chest. The touch was an icy-hot that permeated through his shirt.
“No.”
Steve stopped the stroking and took Hutch in an embrace again. Hutch felt hot wet kisses and nips along his jaw and down his neck. Steve’s fingers swiftly divested Hutch of his shirt, allowing his mouth to continue the trail down Hutch’s chest. His lips found and teased first one nipple then the other and Hutch felt his legs turn to jelly. Steve’s hands reached for Hutch’s belt and opened his jeans, easing them down his long legs. Hutch toed off his shoes to assist in their removal. Capturing Steve’s mouth again Hutch fell back to the bed, taking Steve with him. He lost himself in the feeling of the long, hard and healthy body over him and groaned deep in his throat as he thrust his hips up to meet Steve’s full cock. He raked his hands over Steve’s back, tugging his shirt free of the jeans and pulling the T-shirt off over his head. Steve raised up to hold his body off Hutch’s while his shirt was removed. Once the material was out of the way, he lowered his face down for a hungry kiss. Hutch splayed his hands over Steve’s shoulders, one hand running gently over the now small dressing on Steve’s upper arm. Bandages… His mind blanked as Steve moved Hutch’s hand away from the injured arm and wrapped Hutch’s fingers around the solid hardness of Steve’s cock.
“Don’t think, Ken… just feel.” Steve whispered against his mouth.
Hutch let his other hand rake across Steve’s chest, alternating between massaging the hard nipples peeking out of the heavy pelt of curly reddish hair, and squeezing the cock that jumped like it had a life of its own in his hand.
Steve rolled off to the side, his mouth tasting every inch of Hutch, down his neck to his chest and lower. Steve kissed the indentation of Hutch’s naval, then, drawing his finger tips through Hutch’s dusting of soft blond pubic hair, circled his long fingers around Hutch’s cock and began to pump smoothly. Hutch groaned with the sensation and arched into Steve’s hand.
Hutch’s hands grasped at Steve’s back, the bedclothes, anything he could get purchase on, gripping convulsively as he went into sensory overload. “Oh, God, that feels so good. It’s been such a long time…” He grabbed at Steve’s waist and rolled them both over so Hutch was laying over Steve and plastering his body against the thinner man’s. He ground his hips against Steve and was met thrust for thrust. It’s been so long since it was anything like this. Steve wrapped his legs around Hutch’s back, holding him close and pressing their cocks together. The friction was incredible and Hutch could feel himself shaking with the effort to hold back and make this last.
Steve moved slightly, stretching out an arm to reach and open a drawer in the night table. He fumbled a moment and then drew out a black cloth bag and a tube of K-Y.
“It’s been a while for me, too. I don’t know how either of us is going to feel about this tomorrow, but right now I want to last as long as possible.” Steve looked up into Hutch’s face, his gaze intense. “I’m your temporary partner; let me be your temporary lover.” Hutch looked down into Steve’s face seeing open hunger there and it fanned his own. “I want to make you feel how good it can be when there isn’t anything to hide,” Steve said. “Let me make you fly.”
Steve’s voice was husky and his eyes hooded as he reached slender fingers into the bag and drew out a cock ring and strap. Pushing Hutch off him he kissed down his smooth chest to take his full cock in his mouth to wet it, then slowly slid the cock ring down to the base, and wrapped the soft leather strap around Hutch’s throbbing balls.
When Hutch felt the coolness of the metal and the constriction of the strap he drew in a quick breath, fighting ejaculation right then. Steve handed him another ring and strap and laid on his back, legs spread in invitation.
“You do me,” Steve directed.
Hutch’s hands shook as he licked gently at the head of Steve’s engorged cock, then took it deeper, backing off with a strong suck to release Steve long enough to slide the ring down all the way and tighten the strap as well.
Steve put both hands on Hutch’s chest and eased him back against the comforter. “Let me take care of you. If only for tonight, let me love you,” he whispered. He spread Hutch’s legs and hesitated a moment, bringing his index finger up to his own mouth and slowly wetting it there before he lowered his head and breathed warm moist air across the bobbing erection, then swallowed Hutch whole. Steve tickled over the tight skin of Hutch’s balls, then circled a finger at the puckering of his anus below. Slowly he drew circles around the opening, gradually pressing in deeper with each pass until the finger slipped past the tight muscle ring and Hutch saw stars.
“Oh my God. More, harder…” Hutch was writhing on the bed, Steve’s mouth sucking strongly and biting sharply. Steve’s fingers were making him crazy.
Steve added a second finger and rotated it, scissoring them, before adding a third, stretching and searching. Hutch could feel his legs shaking and was taken with such a need it was almost painful. “Please, I want to feel you inside me, please, do it now.”
Steve slowly withdrew his fingers and, reaching for the K-Y, coated himself before positioning Hutch’s legs on his shoulders and his hard cock at the entrance of a very ready cop.
“Open your eyes, Ken. Look at me. I’m not asking you to love me, but I’ve got to know that right now you know it’s me. Me, only me.”
Hutch felt Steve freeze above him, waiting. Hutch opened his eyes to look at Steve, feeling his racing heartbeat in his head, his throat and his cock. “I know who it is, I know.” God help me, I know, I know, I… no, no… I know, I… know Iknowlknowlknowlknow…
Steve leaned forward to kiss him, sucking on his tongue, biting at his lower lip, then with a moan against Hutch’s mouth, he slid with exquisite slowness inside Hutch’s willing body, filling him, owning him.
Hutch reached out to grip Steve’s head, holding it in place to kiss him, groaning into Steve’s mouth as he bucked with a driven passion to deepen each stroke Steve took until, at Hutch’s leading, Steve was pounding into him. Steve stiffened and shook with the powerful climax that claimed him, Hutch still bucking forcefully against him. Steve took a second to catch his breath and eased his still hard cock out of Hutch’s body and lowered the blond’s legs to the bed. Using the K-Y and the semen that leaked with the removal of his dick, he moistened Hutch’s huge hardness and centered himself over it. Keeping his eyes fastened like green diamonds to Hutch’s face he eased Hutch inside him, stopping at intervals for his unstretched body to accommodate the girth. Hutch’s hands gripped each of Steve’s hips with enough force to leave bruises as Hutch stubbornly held himself still, refusing to drive upward before Steve could take him in. He watched the younger man’s face, seeing him close his eyes in concentration to try to relax and open. He could feel the sweat on his skin and the shaking that effort cost him.
“Easy, Steve, I don’t want to hurt you. Wait, let me help.” He tried to pull back to give Steve time, but Steve shook his head no and kept pushing down to impale himself further.
Hutch wanted to bury himself in that tight, hot, channel, his need at that moment intense and consuming. Finally feeling Steve’s ass resting against his pubic bone, Hutch sighed and relaxed somewhat in total completion. He felt Steve’s muscles gripping him rhythmically and for a second was afraid it would make him come without any other movement at all. Steve reached for the small black bag again as he sat perched on top of Hutch, fumbling something out with shaking fingers. He reached forward to rest his weight on his elbows and took Hutch’s mouth in a bruising kiss, one hand sliding in between their bodies to pinch and twist Hutch’s nipple to a painful stiffness. Hutch then felt a cool touch of something metal clamp in place on the taut bud, the pinch almost painful, but not quite. The sensation shot electricity directly to his cock buried to the hilt in Steve’s ass. Oh, God, yes… YES.
“Let me know if you want me to make it tighter.” Steve breathed in his ear, and the electricity doubled.
Steve’s hand sought out Hutch’s other nipple and a matching clamp was applied. Hutch arched his back up, pressing into the intense stimulation and began moving his cock, lifting Steve bodily off the bed with each thrust. Steve leaned his face forward and his tongue snaked out to lick at each nipple in its clamp, cooling them with the wet tongue before resting his teeth lightly against the clamp, making it momentarily tighter. Steve raised his lower body up to slide all but the head of Hutch’s cock free of him, then shoved back down to take him in completely. Steve’s rhythm started slow and was building in speed and intensity and Hutch was finding it difficult to breathe. His cock was being expertly squeezed with the thrusting in each direction and his balls were on fire in their confinement. “I need to come, God you’re gonna kill me. Let it happen man, take the strap off. Please…”
“You can shoot with it on, it just takes longer and you have to work at it. Go for it. You can come any time you’re ready.”
Hutch was dragging in great gulps of air, the sweat stinging his eyes where it ran off his forehead. He thrust up harder into Steve’s body, eyes closed, head thrashing back and forth. “I can’t, help me.”
“Yes, you can. Feel me squeeze you. It feels so good, so hard, so hot.” Steve’s voice carried him closer but not over.
Hutch bit down on his lip in frustration and groped at Steve’s thighs. “I… I can’t… God, I hurt, please…”
Steve stopped his squeezing and eased his body off Hutch’s dick. Hutch felt like screaming with the removal of that incredible torture. Then he felt Steve enter him again. The still slick and pliable channel accepted Steve’s length easily. Steve rested back on his heels, bending Hutch’s long legs to place his feet on either side of Steve’s hips. The new angle was perfect for each forward stroke to drag Steve’s hardness over Hutch’s sensitive prostate. Hutch felt the building eruption start to take him over the top and he shouted as the most powerful orgasm he could remember shook him to his core. He saw stars behind closed lids and wondered if he would be able to stay conscious. He vaguely remembered feeling Steve wrap his hand around Hutch’s dick just as he felt the eruption of Steve’s second orgasm fill his body with hot semen.
As the spasms of both men slowly faded, Steve eased out of Hutch’s body with a groan and flopped next to him in a sweaty heap on the bed. They lay there like that, the room filled with the smell of their sex and the sounds of their gasping breaths. Hutch felt Steve reach toward his semi-hard dick and tug the snap free from his testicles and slide the cock ring off. He sucked in a breath sharply at the sensation, doing it again as Steve removed each of the nipple clamps from his chest.
“Oh, my God. That was unbelievable. I have never…” Hutch panted unable to finish the thought. Never anyone but you, babe… Oh God, Starsk? “No shit…” Steve kissed Hutch softly, the rapid exchange of air in and out Steve’s nose cooling Hutch’s face. When they drew apart Steve collapsed back against the mattress.
“Wake me a week from Tuesday,” Hutch moaned as he tried to pull the corner of the comforter over him.
“Yeah, right. I’ll put in a wake-up call as soon as I can move.” Steve gave the blanket a tug and brought it up to cover most of them. He nested his arm across Hutch’s chest. Hutch traced over Steve’s face lightly with his fingertips, feeling Steve’s breaths coming slower and seeing his eyes close. Oh, God, what have I done? The soft sound of Steve breathing as his head rested on Hutch’s chest was the last thing he remembered.
The next morning the pressing need to empty his bladder awakened him. He looked around, at first confused not to be at home on his own couch. Glancing around the room as he pushed up off the bed he realized with a sick feeling where he was and what had happened there last night. He moved to the bathroom, seeing a wet towel hanging on the rack and no Steve in the big bed. He wondered what a mess he’d made of a valued friendship as he peed. He stood for a moment looking out the small bathroom window, seeing but not seeing, the lawn maintenance men working around the ground. The contrast of that utter mundane normalcy when he felt his world was an out of control train depressed him. He took advantage of the need for a shower himself to delay facing the music he feared awaited him in the other part of the apartment. Shit, why didn’t I just sleep in the car?
Hutch stood under the hot water, nursing the pounding of his head and the rolling of his stomach. He reached for the soap and quickly lathered and rinsed off, then grabbed the shampoo. Pouring out a small amount the scent of it filled the shower stall and it triggered his brain back to last night and Steve’s hair resting against his face. The smell of your hair as we… what? Had sex? Made love? What the hell was it? He rinsed his hair and stepped out to dry off. He jumped at seeing the door slightly ajar, and a pair of scrub pants and a new disposable razor and toothbrush sitting on the sink. With a smile at the thoughtfulness he used both and stepped into the soft cotton pants as he left the bathroom and padded barefoot out toward the smell of coffee coming from the kitchen.
Steve stood by the stove, jiggling the bagel that just popped up out of the toaster on to the plate and putting in another to toast. He carried the plate to the table with a cup of coffee and pushed both toward the far side of the table, indicating Hutch to sit down.
“Think your stomach can handle some breakfast?” Steve asked with his back to Hutch as he poured another cup of coffee and stood watch over the toasting bagel.
“Smells good, we’ll see,” Hutch replied stiffly.
The toaster popping up sounded loud in the awkward stillness and Steve brought his plate over to sit down at the table with a resigned sigh.
“How you feeling?” Steve asked.
“About last night…” Hutch offered at the same time. Both men laughed self-consciously.
Hutch looked up at his temporary partner and relaxed into the only way he knew to play it. Covering Steve’s hand with his own he faced him squarely. “I’m sorry about last night.” His heart ached with the hurt he saw cross Steve’s features. “But probably not for the reason you’re thinking.” Hutch cleared his throat and continued. “I’m sorry I came here drunk and that things happened off of that springboard. I am not sorry they happened. At least I don’t think I am.” He saw the hurt in Steve’s face give way to confusion. “I’m sorry that I don’t have any answer to what you need to know this morning. I’m more than a little confused myself. Last night was great. It was the most incredible sex I’ve ever had, ever.” Hutch looked away as the truth of that slammed into him. Ever, and the power of that scares me. “But even if Starsky and I are over, I don’t think jumping directly into another relationship is smart. It certainly isn’t fair to you. You deserve someone who isn’t so wounded he can’t be sure of what he’s feeling.”
Steve turned his hand to lace his fingers among Hutch’s. Steve tugged Hutch’s hand up to his lips and pressed it there. Hutch stared at their connection then eased his hand away.
“I know you realize that if there’s any way at all I can salvage what Starsky and I have, I’ll do it. If it was rocky before, what I initiated last night isn’t going to help smooth things over. I’m not proud of that. In fact, it might be the final push that drives it off the road completely. I’m not going to know until he gets back and we have a chance to talk.”
“I was worried you’d think I took advantage…”
“I told you last night when you said that, I was the one starting things. I wasn’t so drunk that I still don’t remember that. I don’t blame you for anything.” It was Hutch’s turn to reach and touch, gripping tightly onto Steve’s forearm. “You tried to raise the voice of reason but I wouldn’t listen to it.” Hutch eased his hand back and stared into his coffee cup. “And if I pay the ultimate price for that action, I deserve it.”
The two men ate in a strained silence. Hutch pushed his half-eaten bagel away and took his dishes to the sink. “You mind taking me to my car?”
“No, not at all. You’re welcome to stay if you want… I mean if you’re going to be going home to an empty apartment…” Steve looked up, eyes hopeful.
“I’ve got stuff to do at the house. I need some time to think before Starsky gets home tomorrow or the next day, or whenever he gets back. I appreciate the offer, really. I don’t feel like I’d be very good company anyway.” Hutch smiled ruefully and scooped up his holster and jacket. I’d better get away from you before the memories of last night make me want more. “I’ll change clothes and be ready in a second.”
“I don’t want you to go…” Steve’s voice was soft and sultry.
“I know…”
Steve nodded his understanding and resignation. With a small sigh he carried his own dishes to the sink.
Hutch turned to walk into the bedroom to change into his own clothes, hearing the jangle of car keys.
“I’ll be waiting down in the car,” Steve replied softly.
The conversation in the car on the way to the Carl’s Jr. parking lot was slightly less strained than that at the table, but not much. When Steve pulled in and stopped the GTO he left it running and turned in the seat to face Hutch.
“Call me if you want some company. I’m still your partner and I care about you. I won’t try to revisit last night if you don’t want to, you’ve got my word on that. Don’t sit at home alone and drive yourself crazy. Give me a call, we’ll go shoot some pool, or see a movie. We could take my dad’s boat out if the weather holds. Okay?”
“Last time we tried to plan that, you got shot,” Hutch kidded. “Think it’s safe to bring up again?”
“Sure, as long as we don’t plan it before a stake-out,” Steve joked.
Hutch opened the door to get out, turning back at the last second. “Thanks, partner. I’ll talk to you later.” Hutch stood and walked to his car without looking back. With his back still turned, he heard Steve pull away.
Hutch opened the car and settled in behind the wheel. He turned the key to start the car and let it idle while he turned on the police radio and the FM and tuned in a station. The soft jazz strains of music filled the car and he let it wash over him. Listening to the words of the singer he recognized as Art Garfunkle he heard:
‘Keeping my eyes on the road, I see you.
Keeping my hands on the wheel, I hold you.
99 miles from LA, I kiss you,
I miss you, please be there.’
Hutch pulled out into the light weekend traffic heading home, the words of the song haunting him as he drove the coastal highway.
‘Passing the white sandy beach, we’re sailing.
Turning the radio on, we’re dancing.
99 miles from LA, I want you,
I need you, please be there.’
He parked the car on the street outside Venice Place, killing the engine but letting the radio keep playing.
‘The windshield is covered with rain, I’m crying.
Pressing my foot on the gas, I’m flying.
Counting the telephone poles, I phone you.
Reading the signs on the road, I write you.
99 miles from LA we’re laughing, we’re loving,
Please be there.’
He felt a lump in his throat and he angrily keyed off the radio and got out of the car. He slowly trudged up the stairs to his apartment. His heart could still hear the haunting melody and its words, ‘please be there.’ “But I wasn’t here and now neither are you. And maybe after you know what I did, you won’t care if I am or not.”
Hutch let himself into the empty apartment and softly closed the door behind him.
Starsky’s Story
Chapter 1
David Starsky watched as his mother and aunt hugged each other and cried. Each seemed overwhelmed and grateful it was a happy occasion and not the funeral it could have so easily been a few months before. “I hate to break this up ladies, but Aunt Rosie I really need the little boys room,” Starsky spoke up after his throat clearing had been so completely ignored.
“Of course, Davey. How are you, dear? Oh you’re still so thin. I would have thought you’d have fattened him up some.” Rose turned back to her sister.
“You should have seen him when I got here, you’d appreciate how much he’s…”
“Mom, Aunt Rosie, that bathroom?”
“Here, here. It’s down the hall, second door to the right. Go,” she waved him inside. I’ll help your mother bring in her things.” Rosie and Anna headed to the car, both talking at once.
Starsky walked briskly into the house, his pace slowing as he got out of sight. Finding the bathroom he entered and closed the door. He dropped his jeans and sat heavily on the toilet.
He rested both elbows on his thighs and let his head fall, supporting it with his hands, feeling them tremble. “Shit, I hate like hell to admit you were right, babe, but this trip was a dumb move. I break out in a sweat just walking from the driveway to the house.” Starsky finished and stiffly stood, pulling on the sink to help straighten up. He glanced at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands, making a face as he turned to dry them. “Color’s not that great, either.” Damn, I wish I was home. “I hate it when you’re right, Hutchinson,” Starsky muttered to himself as he slowly walked out of the bathroom.
Starsky spotted the phone on the breakfast bar and headed in that direction. He slid gingerly up on the barstool and dialed the familiar number. He frowned as he waited, listening to the ring kick over to the answering machine. When he heard the beep, he spoke with false enthusiasm. “Hey. Blintz, just wanted you to know we made it in one piece.” Just saying it made Starsky sit up a little straighter, feeling a flicker of pride in the accomplishment in spite of his aching fatigue. “I’ll give you a call later. ‘Bye.” Starsky slowly lowered the receiver. Did you get called in already or are you still so mad at me you haven’t come home yet? He walked over to the sink to get a glass of water. Fishing a pain pill out of his jeans pocket he tossed it down.
Starsky sat in the comfortable family room listening to the steady drone of his mother and aunt talking over the TV noise. The combination, along with the pain pill he had taken a short time ago, lulled him into a relaxed doze. A touch on his arm roused him and he blinked with momentary confusion at his surroundings.
“I said your aunt has a nice lunch fixed. Aren’t you hungry?” Anna asked.
Starsky sat up and rubbed his face with both hands. “Yeah, sure. Sounds good.” He stood slowly. Almost upright, a sudden cramp grabbed his over-worked abdominal muscles, making him gasp. He reached out one hand to steady himself, closing his eyes and taking slow deep breaths until it passed.
“David?” Anna asked as she reached for her son. “Are you okay?”
He nodded through clenched teeth. When he opened his eyes he was looking into concerned blue eyes much like his own. “I’m fine, Ma. I just got a little stiff from sitting in one place so long.” He gave her his best smile and shuffled toward the table in the kitchen.
“Maybe this trip was too much. Hutch didn’t want you to make it. He thought you weren’t ready.” Anna looked toward the kitchen and lowered her voice. “Maybe he was right. I know you fought over it. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked…”
“It was just a cramp, and now it’s gone. I’m fine. Hutch worries too much. He thinks it’s his lot in life. For a Protestant, he’d make a good Jewish mother.” Starsky’s voice was light and joking but there was an edge to it that he hadn’t totally hidden.
“He loves you, David,” Anna replied softly.
Starsky hesitated a step, turning to meet his mother’s eyes. He searched her face, looking to see if there was any condemnation to be read there. Seeing none he relaxed. “Yeah, he does,” he answered simply, wishing he had the guts to say how much and hating himself because he couldn’t.
Missed a perfect opening to tell her the truth. He could almost hear Hutch’s voice taunting him. I can’t, God help me, but I just can’t.
Lunch was way more food than three people could eat. Starsky was beginning to get a taste of how invisible Hutch had told him he felt during conversations at the table between Starsky and his mother. Connections and memories Hutch was not a part of that flowed between the two now flowed between Anna and her sister. Starsky took a moment to feel discounted before the full stomach and the pain pill kicked in again.
“I know you two will miss my contributions to your conversation, but Aunt Rosie, if you’ll show me where you’re going to stick me for the night, I’ll take a little nap now.”
“Of course. I’m sorry, I should have offered before. You’re practically asleep in the chair. Take the first bedroom. It’s the door past the bathroom at the end of the hall. It used to be your uncle’s office.”
“Great, thanks. The place looks terrific. I almost didn’t recognize it with everything you’ve had done.” Starsky moved off toward the bed like it was a magnet and he was made of metal filings. He eased himself down to lie across the bed, heaving a huge sigh as his tired body sank gratefully into the mattress. God, I hurt. He closed his eyes. The past weeks of strain on a relationship that had for years been second nature, like a second skin, weighed on him and he felt the revelation that the pain he was currently feeling had little or nothing to do with his healing wounds. When I get home we’re talking, Hutch, if I have to handcuff your ass to the bed.
The shadows in the room when he awakened gave him an indication of how long he’d slept. He listened and could hear the sound of conversation punctuated by his mother’s laughter float in. He smiled at the sound, warm feelings washing over him, the memories from childhood covering him. That’s what I remember from home when I was growing up, Ma, the sound of you laughing. Dad always made you laugh. After he was gone I kinda felt it became my job.
Starsky rolled to his side, sliding up on the bed to reach the phone on the nightstand with a groan. He dialed the number and leaned back against the pillows, rubbing at the cramp that again threatened his stomach and chest. He frowned after the third ring and hung up before hearing the prompt to leave yet another message. Okay, two can play that game. I’ll let you stew a while, blondie.
He moved carefully off the bed with a grunt and walked into the hallway following the low thrum of conversation. Entering the room with a big yawn he stood behind his mother where she sat on the couch and rested his hands on her shoulders. He gave them a squeeze, then leaned forward to plant a kiss on the top of her head.
Anna covered Starsky’s hand with her own briefly. “I was wondering if you were down for the night. Hungry?”
Rosie was already out of her chair and walking toward the kitchen. “Your mother wouldn’t let me wake you, but I put a plate in the oven to stay warm. Go sit down while I get it for you.”
Starsky followed his aunt to take his place at the table. “Did anybody call while I was asleep, Ma?” Starsky asked as he pulled out the chair and sat.
“No, dear. No one called. You still haven’t reached Ken?”
Starsky shook his head, then accepted the hot plate placed in front of him with a smile. “You left the message that we arrived safely. That’s probably all he needed to know. Wasn’t he working today?”
“Yeah,” Starsky answered around a mouthful of pot roast. He caught his aunt’s hand as she passed by to return to the couch, kissed it and rolled his eyes in appreciation of the meal.
Rosie laughed and ruffled his hair before moving ahead. “Anna, why don’t you find Davey a nice girl to cook for him while you’re here?” Rosie asked.
The mouthful of food Starsky was chewing turned to dry cardboard that he couldn’t swallow past the lump in his throat. Tell them, his conscience screamed, but he couldn’t force the food down to be able to open his mouth. You fuckin’ coward. Hutch has every right to be pissed at you about this. He pushed his plate away, the sight and smell suddenly nauseating. He carried his plate to the sink and laid it there. Starsky hesitated, his eyes falling on the phone. The receiver was in his hand, fingers moving to dial almost without thought. Be there, damn you, please. Hutch, be there.
The phone rang unanswered until the machine picked up. Starsky closed his eyes and, speaking softly, he completely abandoned the cheerful tact of earlier. “You were right, Hutch. I shouldn’t have made the trip. I’m tired and sore and I wish I was home. Is that what you’ve been waiting to hear? Well, there it is, blondie, you can answer the phone now.” He waited a few seconds, cursing the silence, then continued. “I’ll get away from here as soon as I can tomorrow. I know you’ll be at work, but that’s okay. It’ll give me a little time to shower and rest up. I won’t call again on the drive home; it hurts too bad to get in and out of the car. Please come home right after work so we can talk.” He quietly replaced the receiver and wiped a shaky hand over his face. Please… I’ve done nothing but talk to this damn machine when all I want to do is scream… Where the hell are you? I‘m coming home, please be there. “Please be there,” he whispered.
***
Starsky held on to the wall as he shakily mounted the steps to Hutch’s apartment. He hurt. The trip home, on top of an essentially sleepless night spent tossing and turning in a strange bed, had been miserable. “All I want is a hot shower, a pain pill, and the bed, and not in that order.”
He opened the door and called, “Hutch?” He sighed into the answering silence. He hadn’t expected to find his partner home since there had been no car outside. He headed directly for the kitchen to get some water as he fumbled the bottle of pain pills out of his jacket pocket. Tossing down two, he glanced around, finding the familiar scrawl on a piece of paper leaning against the coffeepot.
Starsk,
I’ve gotten called in to meet with the DA and some Of the prosecuting attorneys. Trying to make up some of the time lost after the bomb at the courthouse, I guess. Not sure what time they’ll knock off, but shouldn’t be too late. I don’t know when you were planning to get home, but I’ll keep calling until I get you. I hope the trip wasn’t too much for you.
Loving you, H.
Starsky read the note again and closed his eyes. If he tried he could almost pretend that the past weeks of tension and frustration hadn’t happened and things were back to normal. Almost…
He glanced at the clock, reading almost noon. Shower, bed, he promised himself and plodded off to ease his aches under the hot water.
Walking out of the steam into the dark coolness of the bedroom raised goosebumps on his skin and he hurried to get under the covers and settled with a sigh. He turned his face into the pillow and searched for the smell of Hutch’s skin on the linens but smelled nothing but the scent of clean sheets. He raised up and looked around the bedroom, noting how pristinely the bed had been made. Hutch’s dirty clothes had been in the hamper, but the towel in the bathroom was clean and unused hanging on the towel rack. You haven’t been home, he thought, a sick feeling settling over him in a cold wave as the goosebumps gave way to the shakes.
He turned over and hit the button on the answering machine next to the bed. The first message he heard was his own from when they arrived at his aunt’s. He deleted it. The next was the secretary from the District Attorney’s office telling Hutch the date and time of their next meeting. Since that’s where Hutch was now and there were no other future meeting times on the message, he deleted that, too. The next was his second message to Hutch. Starsky groaned inwardly at how needy his voice sounded, how obvious his physical pain. He deleted it. The last message was a voice he didn’t recognize at first. The message sounded upbeat and confidant. “Hey, if you get done at the DA’s and you’re bored give me a call. I’ve forwarded the apartment phone to the line on the boat. Come on out.” There was a short hesitation, then the voice Starsky now placed as Steve’s continued. “No strings, okay? Just hang out and relax. Hope to see ya.”
Starsky’s fingers shook over the machine, as he was tempted to delete this last message as well. Not because he didn’t want Hutch to hear it, but because the rift between them had left a door open wide enough that another man felt he could send a message like that to Hutch and have it considered. With an angry sweep of his arm, Starsky knocked the offending machine off the table and onto the floor, turning over in bed and throwing the same arm up to cover his eyes.
He felt the coldness of earlier give way to a simmering rage, the heat of it starting at his center and flowing to consume all parts of his body. Both hands closed into tight fists as he lay there. He kept seeing Steve’s face in his mind’s eye, remembering how his own fist had connected solidly with it in the Emergency Room’s lobby. It played over and over like a scratch on a record until eventually the face blurred and it was Hutch reeling from the punch. That realization shocked him into stopping the visual entirely and he concentrated on trying to relax. After a time the pain pills kicked in and he drifted off.
His rest was anything but. Dreams that filtered in and out of his subconscious left him struggling almost to wakefulness with a raging hard-on, while remembering bits and pieces of dreams and arguments that didn’t make any sense. The last struggle up out of the fog felt more tangible than the others did and he opened his eyes to see that the touch on the side of his face he thought he had felt was real. There was a warm hand there with an arm attached to it going to a solid shoulder and neck with a face bearing a concerned expression peering at him in the semidarkness of the late afternoon.
“Hutch?” His voice was raspy, his mouth dry. His eyes felt sticky and were difficult to open.
Hutch smiled and stroked his face, his hand so gentle. “Yeah, that must have been some dream you were having. I thought I’d have to pour cold water on you to wake you up.” He wiped a thumb softly over one of Starsky’s eyes to clear it. “Are you with me?”
“Yeah,” Starsky answered drawing in a shaky breath. He closed his eyes and tried to focus, wondering if everything that was coming back to his mind in a rush had all been a bad dream. He opened his eyes again and looked around in hopeful inspection until his eyes fell on the borrowed chair-sleeper his mother had used. Shit. Why couldn’t it all have been a dream?
“Starsky, are you okay?” Hutch pulled back slightly. “Your second message last night sounded awful. I was going to call but…”
“But it was so late when you got home?” Starsky finished for him, remembering now how angry he’d been when he went to sleep.
“What?”
“Or do you mean it was so early this morning… when actually did you get home? When were you going to call, Hutch?”
Hutch recoiled off the bed as if he’d been struck. “I left you a note when I left this morning so you’d know where I was. I came straight home from the meeting like your message yesterday asked. What do you want me to say?”
“Right now, I don’t want you to say anything, just pick up the answering machine on the floor and explain the last message to me.” Starsky struggled to rise up on his elbows in the bed with a grimace.
“Okay, easy, stay put, I’ll get it.” Hutch quieted him as he picked the machine up off the floor.
Hutch righted the machine and set it down on the table, pushing the button to retrieve the messages as if expecting the action might ignite a bomb.
Steve’s voice filled the air between them. Starsky stared at Hutch without blinking. Hutch’s gaze was glued to the machine as if expecting some word of wisdom to be passed from it to him as the message stopped.
“Well? You going?” Starsky asked icily.
“What?” Hutch turned to face him. “Of course not. He didn’t know when you were coming back. Neither did I. He invited us all out on the boat while your mom was still here, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember. But this time he invited just you. What happened that he thought it was okay to narrow the field?”
“I told you, he didn’t know you were home,” Hutch hedged.
“I’m going to ask you one more time. If you lie to me again, I’m going to punch your lights out.” Starsky pushed himself to sit fully upright.
Hutch looked at him for a long moment, then turned away, but sat back down on the edge of the bed. There was no sound in the room for the better part of a minute, before Hutch continued. “Friday night when you told me you were going to drive your mom to San Bernardino, I was really pissed when I left here. I couldn’t even think straight. It was like everything for all these past weeks got compressed in one big angry wad. I kinda drank myself through a number of bars down by the beach. I wasn’t safe to drive anymore, so I called Steve. He came and got me.”
“Why didn’t you call Huggy to bring you home, here?”
“I don’t know, I was pretty shit-faced. I wasn’t thinking too clearly. I didn’t want to come home because I was pissed, and I was feeling pretty rocky. If I was going to spend a couple of hours driving the porcelain bus in the john, I didn’t want to be throwing up in front of your mother.” Hutch stood again and took a step away before continuing softly. “I guess I was afraid to give you something else to be ashamed of me for.” Starsky took in the defeated countenance of the tall man standing with his back to him and tried to hold on to his anger, but it was fading. He bit his lip to keep from saying something comforting, knowing Hutch’s guilt would drive him to continue talking.
“Steve came and picked me up and took me to his place.” Hutch turned to face Starsky, his face an anguished mask. “I’m sorry, okay?” Hutch swallowed hard before he continued. “I don’t know what else to say.” Hutch’s voice was getting louder. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t take care of you so you had to call your mother. I’m sorry I couldn’t matter enough to you that you felt you couldn’t tell her about us. I’m sorry I couldn’t deal with how badly I felt with her not knowing.” Hutch stood, anger stiffening the muscles of his neck into cords. “I hated having to sneak around and hide how I felt in my own home. Our home. I’m sorry if it felt good to talk to somebody else about all of that shit when I should have been able to talk to you. Should have, but couldn’t! I’m so fucking sorry about all of it.” Hutch stood there fists balled into knots, then shrugged out of his jacket and threw it across the room. Starsky struggled in spite of his sore and protesting muscles to get up and sit on the edge of the bed.
“What else do you have to be sorry for?” Starsky’s voice was calm like the cobra is still just before it strikes.
Hutch froze and Starsky waited. “I told Steve I would do whatever it took to fix things between you and me,” Hutch began finally. “It seemed a lot easier to say it then… to him, than it is to look you in the eye now.” Hutch closed his eyes and stood there shaking his head as if the thoughts he had were painful to process. With a slow raise of his head, Hutch looked up. “I love you, I swear to God, I do.”
Starsky clamped down on his tongue with his back teeth to stop any comment fueled by his hurt at that second. He took in a deep breath feeling more in control, then said, “I guess we have to decide what’s enough.” Starsky’s voice was barely a whisper but Hutch looked like Starsky had screamed the words at him. “If you love me enough… not to do this the next time you get pissed… and if I love you enough… to forgive you for this one.” Hutch opened his mouth and took a step forward, hands uplifted and moving as if in surrender. Starsky grabbed one hand and stopped Hutch before he could speak. “You gotta know that this ain’t baseball and you won’t get three strikes. If I come home and the place is empty, I won’t live with wondering where you are and what you’re doing. Do you hear what I’m saying? I can’t do that.”
Starsky slowly closed the short distance between them and pulling on Hutch’s hand, he moved back to the bed and eased them both down to sit on the mattress, then lay back stretched out across the bed.
Hutch’s breathing slowed and he tried to speak, but Starsky sshhh’d him. “Never mind. Don’t say anything. I don’t want to hear it right now. Maybe not ever. I love you, with all my heart. But I think we’ve had enough for now. Not being able to tell my mom has everything to do with her and me, not you. But I can see where that would be hard to understand, especially since you told your folks. I know it bothered you that I never did, but God, I never knew how much. If you looked for comfort someplace other than home, then I’ll take the responsibility for that. It was my fault for not giving you what you needed here. I’m not ashamed of you, Hutch, I swear I’m not, but I can understand how you might not believe that.” Starsky loosened his grip on Hutch and leaned back out of his arms to seek his face. “I’m sorry I’ve got to keep that secret.”
Hutch searched Starsky’s eyes as if looking for his own forgiveness there before speaking. “I think we both know that’s not really the problem.”
Starsky leaned forward and took Hutch’s mouth in a soft and gentle kiss and their tongues met. Breaking off the kiss Starsky settled Hutch’s head down against his chest and held him, drawing slow comforting circles over his back, running his fingers through the soft corn silk of his hair. “We maybe knew it, but neither of us wanted to talk about it. I’m not going to bring up old dirt, babe. When we get this talked out it’s over. I just don’t think right now is the best time to try and sort it all out. You’re pooped and I’m a little fuzzy. Leave your head here and stop thinking for a while, will ya? Just let me hold you and shut up.”
“Did I ever tell you one of the things I love about you most?” Hutch asked.
“What?”
“You’re such a sweet talker.”
Starsky let out a short laugh. “Yep, that’s me. And you thought I was just a pretty face.” Starsky kissed the side of Hutch’s face his lips could reach. “My mom left a shit load of leftovers in the freezer, and I brought some stuff home from Aunt Rosie’s. Are you hungry?” Starsky asked.
“No. I’ll fix you something if you are, though. You must be beat from the trip.” Hutch started to rise off the bed, but Starsky tightened his grip.
“Let’s just lay here. We can eat later. I just want to hold you.” Starsky kissed Hutch’s temple and sighed his contentment. Hutch resettled his arm low around Starsky’s waist and snuggled closer. After a few minutes Starsky felt Hutch’s body really relax and he himself began to drift off also.
A full bladder protesting the weight of the arm across him woke him in the totally dark bedroom. He eased out from under Hutch’s arm and moved stiffly to the john. Afterward he walked quietly back into the bedroom, squinting at the neon numbers on the clock radio. Eleven-twenty. He looked at Hutch still sleeping soundly and his heart ached at the pain Hutch had shared a few hours ago. His chest tightened at the memory those words had caused. Can we really live with it, babe? Secrets…We’ve never had ’em before. I need to keep us from my mom and you have whatever happened between you and Steve. I know you’ll tell me if I ask, but do I really want to know?
Starsky gently slid Hutch’s shoes off, then his socks. He was working on the belt and jeans when Hutch stirred. “Just trying to get you more comfortable, babe. Raise your butt up for me,” Starsky directed as he pulled the pants down Hutch’s long legs. Next came the shirt and Hutch’s hands were there like a shot to bat Starsky’s away and remove the shirt, pulling it off and ducking quickly under the covers. He moved the linens down on Starsky’s side too and held out his arm as Starsky settled back, drawing Starsky to him, Hutch acting as the pillow this time.
Starsky sighed and wrapped his arms around Hutch’s waist. “I missed you. I missed this,” he whispered, tightening his hug.
“Me, too. There aren’t words to tell you,” Hutch answered, as he nuzzled his nose against Starsky’s hair.
Starsky let his hand draw lazy circles on Hutch’s flat belly and chest. He let his fingers search out and find a nipple, surprised at Hutch’s quick intake of breath at the touch. The nipple was already hard and felt hot to Starsky’s fingers. He rolled the little nub against the palm of his hand and was preparing to catch it in his fingers when Hutch hissed in a breath again and this time moved definitely away from the stimulation.
“Don’t, please. Not yet, okay?” Hutch asked, catching Starsky’s wrist in his grasp and moving his hand away.
“Sure, okay,” Starsky replied, puzzled.
Hutch lay still for only a moment, then got up out of bed and opened the dresser drawer, got out a T-shirt and slipped it on, then came back to bed.
Starsky heard more than saw the action in the dark room. “You don’t sleep in a T-shirt unless we go back to Minnesota for Christmas.” Starsky leaned over and turned on the bedside lamp. “What are you hiding?” Starsky looked at his partner lying stiffly in bed, covers drawn up under his armpits.
“You said you didn’t want to know. Let’s keep it that way.” Hutch stared at the ceiling, then closed his eyes and whispered, “Please?”
Starsky battled with the need to know and the fear of finding out, his need winning. He slowly moved his hand to the sheets and drew them down to Hutch’s waist, then lifted up the T-shirt. He almost had Hutch’s nipples exposed when Hutch jerked upright and snatched off the T-shirt himself, turning to Starsky with a snarl. “Okay, you couldn’t let it rest. Here, take a good look!” Hutch jutted his chest out, the mass of purple love bites evident over much of his upper chest. Both nipples were bruised and slightly swollen with a roughened area at each nipple edge with the skin broken.
“What the hell?” Starsky stared, dumbfounded “What did he do to you?” Starsky exploded.
“Nothing I didn’t want him to! Believe me, it would have been a lot easier to tell you I was raped. But that just isn’t so. Yeah, it was rough. I was drunk and I encouraged it. I guess there was enough alcohol onboard that I didn’t feel it hurt until the next day.”
“What, was Steve drunk too? He didn’t know what he was doing to you? What kind of sadistic bastard…”
“It wasn’t like that,” Hutch interrupted hotly. “I’m fair skinned, I mark easily. I’d never describe what you and I do as rough sex, but you’ve left your share of marks.”
“Hickeys, sure. But never anything that broke the skin, for God’s sake. Where else are you hurt?” Starsky demanded.
“Nowhere. Can you just let it go?” Hutch started to turn away.
“No, I can’t let it go. Not when you come home looking like that. Did he fuck you?” Starsky’s voice was tight and he fought to control it.
“I am not going to give you a blow by blow description, if you’ll pardon the pun,” Hutch replied hotly, his finger pointing at Starsky’s face. “You said you weren’t going to dig up old dirt, so start now because I am not giving you a shovel to slam me with over this. Yeah, we fucked, that’s all you’re gonna get. I’m sorry it happened, for a lot of reasons. On the list of stupid shit things I’ve done to fuck up my life it’s way up there.” Hutch waved his hands in the air above his head, then lowered them to wipe over his face and sighed. “Please? I’m dead on my feet. Can we just go to sleep?” Hutch’s voice sounded defeated as he shrugged back into his T-shirt.
Not having the heart to push anymore, or the emotional energy to pursue it if he did, Starsky let it go and rolled to turn out the light.
Hutch settled back into the bed turning to face the opposite wall, his back to Starsky.
Starsky waited a moment, then snuggled up to spoon behind Hutch, tentatively reaching his arm around Hutch’s middle. Long fingers reached for Starsky’s hand immediately and laced them together. Settling the hand against his waist Hutch held on tightly.
“I love you,” Starsky murmured against Hutch’s back, the endearment having an angry ring to it.
“I know,” Hutch sighed. “I love you, too. I swear to God, I do,” Hutch answered, echoing his earlier words. Eventually, long and silent hours later, sleep claimed them both.
Starsky heard the alarm quickly cut off and his heart broke at the exhausted sigh his lover emitted before he felt the bed move as Hutch heaved himself up out of it. He listened for a few minutes as Hutch moved around in the bathroom, then padded softly to the kitchen, the smell of brewing coffee followed shortly after his return. The sounds of the running water for the shower lulled him back to a light doze. It was still running when he woke next and glanced at the clock. Hutch had been in the shower twenty minutes. That water’s got to be like ice by now, babe.
Starsky rolled out of the bed and pushed open the bathroom door. Hutch was silhouetted behind the curtain standing back a bit from the path of the water spray. “If you needed to take a cold shower this morning, you could have woke me up, I’d have given you a little…” His teasing was cut short as he peeked past the end of the curtain to see Hutch asleep standing up, his head pillowed by his forearm where it rested against the tile wall.
“Hutch…” Starsky reached past him to turn off the cold water. “Come here, babe. Shit, your lips are blue.” Starsky grabbed for the big towel off the corner of the sink and wrapped it around his lover as he pulled him away from the wall and guided him out of the shower. Hutch slowly opened his eyes and frowned as he tried to focus, the brisk toweling from Starsky’s hands waking him up.
“What… what time is it?” Hutch asked wiping his face with a corner of the towel.
“You’ve been freezing yourself for twenty minutes or more. Give Dobey a call; tell him you aren’t coming in today. Leave a message with the prosecuting attorney. Come on back to bed.”
“I can’t.” Hutch took over the toweling and moved past Starsky to stagger toward the kitchen and the waiting coffee.
“Sure you can,” Starsky continued as he followed the blond.
Hutch poured the cup and replaced the pot on the warming burner before turning. “No… I can’t.” Hutch’s expression and tone chilled him. “Gunther is going down for as hard a fall as I can give him. No legal tricks, no plea bargain, no compromises and I’m going to be there. I’ve got to see this through.” Hutch’s eyes were chips of blue flint.
“Are you going to kill yourself to do it?” Starsky whispered.
“I’ll be okay. It won’t be too much longer. Bear with me, huh? I know I’m shitty to be around right now, and I’m gone all the damn time. I’m sorry about that.” Hutch reached out to lock strong fingers around Starsky’s biceps in a bruising grip. “Please understand, this is something I’ve got to do.”
Starsky could feel the tremble in Hutch’s hands as they held him. He searched the eyes that stared out of Hutch’s face with such intensity that it frightened him. Gunther almost killed my body, but my God, I hate what he did to your soul.
“I… I’m trying to understand, babe. I am. But the way you’re driving yourself is scaring me. It ain’t healthy, Hutch. You’re too tired and stressed out to think clearly. I don’t even want to think about what your reaction time in a fight would be. You’re gonna get hurt out there, or get somebody else hurt.”
Hutch took his hands off Starsky’s arms as if they were burning him. “Don’t start! I get enough of that shit from Steve.” Hutch shoved past Starsky and went into the bedroom to dress.
Starsky grimaced at the mention of the name. “Then he’s right, and, as much as I hate to admit it, there’s something we agree on.” Starsky followed behind Hutch, reaching to halt him as he reached for a shirt. “Please, babe, listen to me. I love you. I’m afraid for you and the state of mind you’re in. Stay home today, get some rest. Eat right for a change. What happened to the health food nut and those weird things you used to drink for breakfast?”
“He got his heart ripped out standing outside of ICU’s window watching the only thing he had to live for… die. It left a big hollow hole in the center of him and it filled up with hate for the motherfucker who caused it. I’m doing the only thing I know how to do to exorcise that.”
Hutch’s face was a twisted mask Starsky barely recognized and it caused him to take a step backwards. “Let me handle it my way, please,” Hutch begged, his countenance softening.
“Just don’t let it get you killed, okay? It would be kinda counterproductive, all things considered, don’t you think?” Starsky stepped forward again and reached out to touch the side of Hutch’s face. He pulled him in to wrap his arms around his lover tightly, rubbing his cheek against Hutch’s freshly shaved one.
“It’ll be okay, I promise.” Hutch stepped back and finished tucking in his shirt and grabbed the tie off the doorknob. “When this is over, I’ll ask Dobey for a few days off and we’ll go away someplace. Tahoe maybe? Just us, we’ll get away. Okay?”
Starsky nodded and, still unable to shake the sick feeling in his stomach, walked Hutch to the door and watched him leave.
The morning passed uneventfully. Starsky, still a little tired from the trip was really wiped out after his PT, so he came straight home and sacked out on the couch. It was the ringing of the phone that disturbed him. He started to let the answering machine get it until he heard Hutch’s voice. He hurried off the couch to grab the phone in the kitchen. “Hey babe. I’m here. What’s up?”
“You aren’t going to believe what shit they’re trying to pull today. Good thing I was here. I’m so mad right now, if they hadn’t called the fucking recess when they did…”
“What happened?” Starsky grew concerned at the tension in his lover’s voice that made it quiver.
“They want to throw out the deposition from that judge. The one whose death looked originally like a suicide until I proved that Gunther’s Chairman of the Board ordered it. They’re saying that I coerced him into making the statement for the deposition and that it was because of that he was so depressed he off-ed himself just like the original investigation showed.” Hutch’s voice was getting louder and shakier as he spoke until Starsky could envision the man literally shaking with rage.
“Hutch, take it easy, babe. You’re gonna work yourself into a stroke or something. Give the legal beagles a chance to earn their money. You did it right the first time. It was a righteous bust and it’ll stand up. They’re just posturing. Don’t let them get to you.” Starsky tried to send all his love and support through the phone. “Why don’t you flake on the rest of today, come home and relax a while. Let me fix you something to eat, take a nap. What time are you working tonight?”
“Eight to four. I… I don’t know… I think I better stay here…”
“Hutch, please. Come home.” You’re scaring me.
“Let me see how things are going when they reconvene. I’ll call you back if I’m coming. Later.”
Starsky stood, still holding the receiver several seconds after Hutch had hung up.
He replaced the receiver and paced a few laps around the confines of the apartment, then headed back to the phone to dial a very familiar number.
“Captain Dobey,” the gruff voice answered.
“Hey, Cap. This is Starsky. You got a minute? I need to talk to you.” Starsky sat down at the kitchen table, mind and heart racing as he prayed for the right words to say.
“Sure. What can I do for you?”
“It’s Hutch, I’m… I’m really worried about him. He’s sitting in court all day and doing stakeout duty all night. He’s so wired he’s dangerous, Captain.” His words flowed out in a rush, his fear for his lover’s state of mind driving them. “I’ve never seen him like this before. How can you let him keep working like this?”
“Let him? Now listen here. It isn’t my idea, and if he said it was, I’m going to kick his ass all the way back to Traffic.”
“Then how’s he doing it? You know he’s in court all day, everyday, right?” Starsky asked, lowering his voice a bit from his original outburst.
“Yeah, I know. I don’t like it. I tried to stop it, but when I told him absolutely not, he handed me his badge and his gun. I tried talking to him, but he wasn’t having any of it. He was determined to be in that courtroom until the charges were finalized and he’d quit if he had to and sit there as a civilian.” Dobey let out a loud sigh. “I took the badge and his gun and let him resign. When the paperwork got entered in the computer that he was off official duty status, the Commissioner got wind of it somehow and I got a call saying not only no, I couldn’t accept his resignation, but hell no. The Commissioner was all bent out of shape about what the press would do with that. All the big news coverage Hutch got with Gunther’s whole operation coming down like a house of cards. He wasn’t about to have Hutch quit and let the press have a field day with that one. So he told me to let him do what he was asking.”
Dobey sighed loudly then continued. “I caught him the next morning when he came to clear out his desk and handed his ID back to him. I said he could sit there and warm the bench, just until the charges were solid, then I didn’t want any more excuses to extend it for the trial. He agreed. I thought if I gave him and Steve these nothing stake-outs they’d get bored enough that Hutch would give in and stop the court time but if not… at least he’d be safer than working on anything more dangerous. As short handed as I am, it was the best I could do.”
“And Steve went along with that?” Starsky asked, vacillating between confusion and anger.
“What choice did he have, if I didn’t have any?” Dobey asked, his voice raising again. “He went along. He didn’t like it but he understood it.”
“Where the hell was I when all this was going down?” Starsky asked, irritation winning out.
“You were just out of the hospital. I take it Hutch didn’t exactly talk things over with you. I’m not surprised; he was like a hen with one chick. Look, Starsky, I know he’s stressed. I’ve watched him for months now. You think I’ve been happy with what I’ve seen?” Dobey’s voice took on its official rumble. “He looks awful, I don’t have to tell you that, do I? You see him everyday. He’s aged; he’s lost weight. I know he isn’t totally fit for duty right now and I’m doing my damndest to follow my orders and keep him safe at the same time. Why do you think I paired him with Bussell?”
“How much longer before the charges are all filed?” Starsky asked, dreading the answer.
“Who knows? It depends on how much the judge will let Gunther’s expensive mouthpiece do to delay things. I heard it got pretty hot over there today. So I can only hope the judge’s patience is wearing a little thin.” Dobey sighed loudly again and lowered his voice. “I don’t think it’ll do any good, but I’ll talk to Hutch if you want me to. He’s obsessed about following through on this case, even though he did a fine job in the original bust and strictly speaking his part of it is finished.”
Dobey paused and cleared his throat. “Starsky, you don’t know what Hutch was like after the hit on you. I glued Huggy to his back pocket to keep him from going off half-cocked. If I had been offered any bets on the chances of you pulling through and Hutch’s chances of surviving if you didn’t, I wouldn’t have bet a dime. Do you hear what I’m telling you, son? Your partner was the worst loose cannon I’ve ever seen. I’d have pulled him off the street in a heartbeat, but I was afraid he’d give in to the fear that you were going to die and put a bullet in his brain so he wouldn’t have to watch it happen. Getting the men who did it was the only thing that kept him going until you went flatline and he came running back. He stayed with you until you were out of danger, like he felt if he didn’t you’d die again.”
“I’m scared for him, Captain,” Starsky whispered.
“So am I, but I don’t think he’d thank either of us for trashing his career by pulling him out on a section eight right now, and frankly if a psychological review were to be called on him today, I don’t know he’d pass it.”
“I don’t know either. I hope like hell he doesn’t get… hurt while we’re dickin’ around too chicken shit to do what he needs us to, to keep him safe.”
“I’ll talk to Steve. He’s with him more than you or I right now. I’ll get his slant on it, and I’ll talk to Hutch. If after I do that I think he’s gotten more unstable, I’ll pull him. Let the Commissioner fuck himself all the way to the Mayor’s office over it if he wants to. I give you my word on that,” Dobey promised.
Shit! I can’t believe we’re hanging all this on Bussell’s input. I sure don’t need you to remind me he’s with Hutch more than anybody else right now, either. “Okay, that’s fair, I guess,” Starsky grumbled. “Can you talk to him before the shift tonight?”
“I’ll try.”
“Thanks, that’s all either of us can do right now, I suppose. Thanks…”
“I’ll call you if I have anything I need you to hear. Take care of yourself and get back here so you can take care of that crazy partner of yours.” Dobey’s smile was evident in his voice before the line went dead.
Starsky pondered Dobey’s description of Hutch. Many of the days soon after the shooting were a blur and he had no clear recollection of large spaces of time.
He sat on the couch and replayed that morning in the garage as deliberately as he could frame by frame. He remembered unlocking the car door and talking to Hutch, then seeing Hutch’s attention shift. He remembered seeing the look on Hutch’s face that registered more than any words of warning could have and he automatically drew his weapon before even turning.
Then he heard the shots and Hutch’s voice screaming at him to get down. He deliberately tried to pass over the memory of the awful pain that lanced through him, focusing on the sound of breaking glass and Hutch’s returning gunfire. His next recollection was being on the ground, trying to look up for Hutch to be sure he was okay. After the loud echoes of the shots in the garage the stillness that followed seemed odd. His head was up against the tire and his neck wasn’t comfortable but he couldn’t seem to get the strength to sit up and move it. Then he saw Hutch’s face and felt Hutch’s hands moving him so his neck was more comfortable. Trust you to know… Hutch’s face was right there, and in his mind’s eye he could see it so clearly. He remembered he’d wanted to reach out to touch Hutch or say something to make him know it was okay; but he was having such a hard time just getting one breath in and out at a time, that he couldn’t do anything but stare up into the face of his lover. God, I wanted to tell you I loved you. I tried to tell you not to cry, but I couldn’t do it.
He remembered blurred faces of other cops milling around and then the background noise of sirens. Somebody handed Hutch a towel and Hutch was ripping Starsky’s jacket open and pressing it against Starsky’s chest. Then he was yelling at somebody close by to give him another towel, a shirt, anything. He pressed it against the wounds on Starsky’s back. Starsky could feel himself sweating as he remembered how that action had hurt and he’d moaned.
Hutch’s tears were dripping off his chin and Starsky remembered seeing them falling past his line of vision as he heard Hutch saying over and over he was so sorry. What were you apologizing for, babe? At the time I thought it was because what you were doing was hurting me. “Hell, what you did probably saved my life,” Starsky muttered. “Maybe that wasn’t it at all. Did you think somehow it was your fault even then?”
He walked back into the kitchen, the memories becoming fuzzy and disjointed after that. Images swirled like a movie with no sound, flashing indistinct pictures that made his mouth go dry and his palms sweat. He reached in the refrigerator and poured a glass of juice and carried it back to the couch. As he sat down to drink he forced himself to take several deep breaths in an attempt to slow down his racing heart. He knew from talking to Hutch and the doctors what had happened over the next few days: the emergency surgery, his cardiac arrest and unsuccessful resuscitation attempt. Unsuccessful, until Hutch had stormed through the doors and his heart… the heart that had not responded to the CPR or the electric shocks, had responded to the man standing at the window and spontaneously restarted. He had heard how it surprised the medical personnel who were prepared to pronounce him dead. The realization of that struck him. Not that it was a new fact, just the emotional aspect of how it had impacted his lover hit home as it hadn’t before.
“What promise did you make standing at that window, Hutch? Is that what this is all about? Some debt you think you have to pay, in exchange for me making it?” Starsky’s mind raced fast-forward trying to remember any other indication that Hutch had given to support that.
“What did you start to say the other night, ‘that was the deal…?’ What the hell did that mean?” Starsky finished chugging the juice and slammed down the glass with such force he had to look to see he hadn’t cracked it. “Shit, why didn’t I see it before now?”
He hurried to the bedroom grabbing clean clothes, then jumped in a quick shower. Dressing in record time he was downstairs, in the car and heading for the courtroom to be with Hutch. “God, Hutch, we’ve got to talk.” He heaved a sigh as he felt his eyes burn with the springing up of tears for his partner, his lover. His heart broke as the realization of the terrible burden that Hutch was carrying finally hit him. “Well, it’s still me and thee, babe. You don’t have to carry it alone anymore.”
Starsky stopped at the Bailiffs long enough to flash his badge and be directed to the courtroom in question. He walked in standing tall, jaw set. He spotted the back of a white-blond head and moved purposefully toward it. Out of the corner of his eye as he strode down the center aisle he caught a glimpse of Steve’s curly hair as the younger man looked up from some files he was reading. Starsky never acknowledged him at all. You don’t exist, you sonofabitch, you just fucking don’t exist.
Hutch jumped when Starsky slid in beside him, then relaxed in a broad smile, his hand covering Starsky’s as it reached to give Hutch’s thigh a squeeze.
Starsky took in the multiple-suited persons at Gunther’s table, catching bits and pieces of hushed conversation surrounding the older man. He took the time to really look at the grey-haired man. He still wore his five hundred-dollar suits but he didn’t look nearly as formidable as he had the last time Starsky had seen him, a hundred years ago when Gunther had represented power and politics and a legitimate way of life. A few of the attorneys at the table had looked in Starsky’s direction as he had entered, but Gunther wasn’t one of them. Starsky looked back at Hutch, seeing the calming light of love shining in his eyes finally overshadow the haunted look from this morning and knew he’d made the right decision to come. Me and Thee, babe.
The afternoon drug on and Starsky fidgeted as his body rebelled against the inactivity and the hard seats.
Hutch leaned over to whisper, “I doubt there will be any other theatrics this afternoon. Want to grab something to eat and take it home?”
“A hot dog and chili-cheese fries?” Starsky asked with a grin and a wiggle of his eyebrows.
“Sure,” Hutch gave in with a smile. He leaned over to whisper their departure to the closest attorney and after a brief conference stood up silently and the two walked down the aisle toward the door. Steve looked up as they approached and stood also, moving silently into the outside aisle and walking to the back of the courtroom.
“We’re going to go get a bite, want to join us?” Hutch asked stiffly and with obvious obligation.
“No, thanks, you guys go ahead. I’m going to drop these off at Metro, then head home to get a couple of hours sleep before tonight.” Steve turned from his soft smile directed at Hutch to give Starsky a look up and down. “You clean up pretty good,” he teased at seeing Starsky in a sports jacket.
“Thanks, I’ll bet you do, too.” Starsky’s toothy grin looked more like an impending shark attack than a smile and he placed a proprietary hand on the small of Hutch’s back as he steered his partner past Steve and toward the Torino.
A quick trip through a drive-thru and Hutch held the food in his lap, slapping Starsky’s hand playfully away as it reached over to snag a French fry out of the glob of chili and cheese at intervals. “Stop, you drop any of that mess on these pants and you’ll be wearing the rest of it,” Hutch warned.
“They’re best when they’re really hot,” Starsky defended as he reached one last time before Hutch firmly closed the bag and moved it out of reach.
Once home they ate and teased in the usual comfortable banter. The meal was filled with the touching and sexual electricity that had been missing in the recent past. Hutch cleared away the plates and, before leaving the table, leaned over to give Starsky a chili-flavored kiss.
“Leave the dishes, I’ll do them after you leave,” Starsky said. “Let’s go take a power nap.”
Hutch’s smile was filled with understanding as he laid the dishes in the sink and ran some water over the worst of them. Drying his hands on the back of the jeans he had changed into, he wasted no time in joining Starsky as he headed toward the bed.
Starsky quickly stripped and crawled into the middle of the bed, waiting for his lover. He smiled smugly at Hutch’s stutter-step as he entered the sleeping alcove and saw Starsky stretched out in wanton abandon. Starsky fixed him with a look he knew conveyed the desired message, enjoying the expression on Hutch’s face as Starsky drew his fingertips slowly up his abdomen to brush across first one nipple then the other. Hutch continued his approach more slowly, unbuttoning his shirt and jeans as he moved.
“You starting without me?” Hutch asked, his voice husky.
“Just getting ready for ya. You’ll catch up.” Starsky moved his hand with languid slowness down his own chest to his rock-hard cock. Starsky wrapped his fingers around the shaft and, never taking his eyes off Hutch’s face, slowly stroked up and down.
“Oh, God…” Hutch groaned as he divested the jeans from around his ankles and kneeled on the bed, taking Starsky in his arms.
Starsky raised up to meet Hutch, drawing him down and taking Hutch’s mouth with an aggression that had been long missing in their lovemaking during Starsky’s convalescence.
“I love you…” Hutch groaned against Starsky’s mouth as he returned the passionate kiss.
“Mine… don’t ever forget it!” Starsky growled back as he wrapped his arms around Hutch and rolled them over. Raising above Hutch he rained kisses over Hutch’s face and down his neck, working his way lower until he captured Hutch’s hard shaft. Starsky fisted it slowly, while his tongue darted out to lick and tease. Hutch’s hands tangled in Starsky’s hair and urged him to take the shaft deeper. Starsky drew away and encircled Hutch’s wrists and moved them up out of the way.
“My trip… you’ve been driving for a while now… touching me like I was made of glass. Well, I’m better now… and I want it like it used to be,” Starsky said, voice strong and irrefutable. “Make love to me, Hutch.”
“Starsky, I don’t want to hurt you… I don’t think…”
“Yes,” Starsky cut him off. “Don’t think! Just feel and go with it.” Starsky lowered his face to lick around the head of Hutch’s glans, then plunged his mouth down over him to strongly suck in Hutch’s length.
An appreciative moan escaped from Hutch as Starsky rolled Hutch’s balls with his fingers, then raked both hands strongly down Hutch’s inner thighs and back up. Starsky released Hutch’s cock and crawled up his body to straddle Hutch’s thighs, then handed Hutch the tube of K-Y he’d snagged out of the bedside table earlier.
“Do it,” Starsky softly commanded as he straightened up to raise his body off Hutch’s legs to allow him access.
Hutch’s hands were trembling as he opened the tube and squirted some out into his palm. Starsky took Hutch’s free hand as he dropped the tube and drew three of Hutch’s fingers through the glistening dollop. Still holding Hutch’s eyes with his own gaze Starsky whispered, “I want you so bad.” Starsky was rewarded with a shiver he felt pass through the large body under him. “Put your fingers in me, babe. Get me ready for you.”
Hutch’s tongue snaked out to moisten dry lips and Starsky heard his breathing increase. Starsky closed his fingers behind Hutch’s as he formed Hutch’s hand around his own cock, then stroked it up and down, watching Hutch’s eyes draw closed in pleasure.
With his other hand, Hutch reached past Starsky’s bobbing hard-on to fondle his balls and find the puckered center. “Yessss…” Starsky hissed as he pressed against Hutch’s finger.
Starsky was so swept away with the sensation of Hutch’s fingers probing and stretching in preparation for their joining, that his own hand stilled its previous stroking of Hutch’s length. Grinding his pelvis down on Hutch’s hand to encourage Hutch’s reach to that secret spot, Starsky felt himself tremble all over in anticipation.
He eased off Hutch’s fingers to rest full length against him, pressing his lips against Hutch’s, his tongue imitating the penetration he sought. He pushed his lower body down, allowing Hutch to arch up against him, the slippery friction fanning the passion. Acknowledging Hutch’s groan as he raised up and over Hutch’s body with a quick kiss, he gripped Hutch’s slick dick and positioned it at his prepared opening and slowly impaled himself on it.
Hutch held still, waiting as Starsky’s body gradually accepted the bulk. Once fully sheathed Starsky closed his eyes and sighed, sensing a completion he’d felt so lacking. “Oh baby… so good, it’s been so long. I love to feel you inside me.” Starsky tightened his muscles around Hutch’s cock, feeling it surge inside him. “Move baby… move in me.” Starsky reached out his hands and Hutch met them, their fingers interlocking as Starsky slowly lowered his body to rest against Hutch’s chest as Hutch began pumping.
The rhythm that had started slow and easy didn’t stay that way, with Hutch pistoning into Starsky’s body as Starsky plunged down to meet him, pressing Starsky’s dick tightly between them with each thrust.
Hutch’s fingers held Starsky’s hands in a vise-like grip as his body pushed up and stiffened, his orgasm sending hot spasms deeply into Starsky’s body. Starsky followed in a few strokes, spurting his own release between their sweaty bellies.
Hutch slowly untangled his hands to rub them in long strokes up and down Starsky’s sides and back. Both their chests heaved as they gasped for air. Hutch’s softening dick slowly slid free.
It was several seconds before the rumble Starsky felt against his ear registered as Hutch speaking and Starsky concentrated on making sense of the sounds.
“…so much. . . love you… so much,” Hutch panted.
“I love you too, my big blond beauty. Not to completely blow the mood, but will you go get a towel? I’m so wasted I can’t move.” Starsky bonelessly rolled off Hutch’s chest to lie like a beached starfish on the bed.
He registered the bounce of the bed that marked Hutch’s silent going and the warm, moist cleaning up that marked his return.
Starsky felt the gentle nudge that rolled him over to make room for Hutch to spoon in behind Starsky, covering them both with the sheet as he did so.
“Thanks,” came Starsky’s sleepy whisper before sleep claimed him.
Chapter 2
He moved around the apartment mechanically as he prepared for bed. Settling in against the pillows, he grabbed for the one that smelled most like Hutch and cradled it to his chest. He drifted off offering a prayer of thanks for the insight the day had brought and silently begged for whatever words it would take to make Hutch understand that what he was doing to himself now was dangerous and unnecessary.
Hours later he heard the phone ringing but pushed the sound away and fought to stay in the safe harbor of sleep. The phone stopped ringing before the answering machine picked up and he relaxed only to be jarred toward wakefulness again in less than a minute when it began again. This time he was too awake to ignore it and reached over to grab at the phone.
“This better be good,” came the sleepy announcement.
“I hear ya,” Steve said. “Tell that partner of yours I like to sleep too and him calling that he got home okay driving that piece of shit of his is part of our deal. If he’s knocking out the zzz’s next to you without calling me, kick his ass out of bed for me, will ya?”
Starsky turned over to the other side of the bed and frowned. Thanks for the wake-up call, dickhead. Sooner or later I’m going to knock your brass balls into next week. “Just a minute, let me see if he’s crashed on the couch or at the kitchen table since he didn’t make it this far. Hold on.” Starsky got out of bed and headed out to the living room.
The apartment was dark and silent and ominously empty. Starsky peeked out of the window to get a view of the street below on the off chance that Hutch had fallen asleep in the car, but the Torino sat under the street light alone, Hutch’s Galaxy, Belle’s replacement, nowhere in sight. Starsky was fully awake as he flipped on a light and lifted the receiver on the phone in the kitchen. “He’s not here at all,” he reported tightly. Starsky squinted at the clock reading ten after five. “What time did you guys get relieved?”
“Regular time. He should have been home before four-thirty at the latest, even if he had to stop and get gas or something. Shit!”
“Let me call Dispatch and have them try to raise him on the radio,” Starsky said.
“Do you think I just got out of the Academy?” Steve snapped. “What do you think I’ve been doing for the last half hour?”
Starsky’s pulse quickened “Where was the stake-out?”
“Down in the garment district. The warehouses at the intersection of Fourteenth and Los Angeles Street.”
“I’ll meet you there,” Starsky fired back, as he slammed down the phone and sprinted to the bedroom to jump into clothes.
Starsky was soon flying through the dark streets to the freeway with a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel and a determination not to let his imagination escalate his fear.
The radio crackled to life as Starsky tuned it to the EMS frequency and heard the dialogue requesting a tow truck and fire department standby. It did little to calm him. He listened, barely remembering to breathe as he heard the interchanges from dispatch pertaining to a car that had left the road on a turn coming off the overpass and was a rollover into the underbrush by the viaduct on the interchange below. He reached to flip the switch back to the regular police band.
“Zebra-Three A to Z-Three B,” Starsky called, trying to raise Steve.
“Z-Three B, go ahead. Got something?”
“Yeah, a SIG-alert on the Five.”
“I heard it. They were calling for a jaws-of-life for a rollover that flew from the top interchange to the one below. That doesn’t mean it’s that ratty Ford. Don’t lose it, man. We’ll find him. He probably was wiped out and just pulled over for a power nap and we’re both gonna look like idiots.”
God, I hope so. “Yeah,” Starsky replied, recognizing that Steve didn’t believe the optimism anymore than Starsky himself did. “I’ve got to pass it on the way in, I’ll let you know what I see.” Please, God, don’t let him be dead. I can’t believe you’d let me come back to make me go it alone.
Starsky’s heart stayed up in his throat as he neared the area where the road was blocked off with flares to route the traffic off past the ramp. He pulled his car over to the emergency lane and got out, flashing his badge at the patrolman who was directing the growing line of lookey-loos to move along.
“What kind of car went over the side?” Starsky asked the cop, making a conscious effort to stay calm.
“An older model Ford. LTD or Galaxy, one of those old big ones,” he replied.
“Tan?” Starsky asked
“Yeah, I think, kinda hard to tell until it gets lighter. Why, looking for somebody?”
“Yeah, my partner,” Starsky answered, his voice breaking.
The cop’s whole demeanor changed and he reached for the radio on his hip. “What’s the status down there? Is the extrication still in progress?”
“We’re almost to the driver. Can’t tell if it’s a fatality yet. They’re wedged in, too jammed under the dash for anyone to touch to check for a pulse yet. They ain’t talking though. When I get the word I’ll let you know,” the voice through the radio answered.
The cop looked up to meet Starsky’s eyes and shrugged. “That might be a cop in the car,” he answered into the radio to the team below. “There’s one here looking for his partner. He described the car pretty well, and he’s coming down.”
“Ten-four. Make sure he understands he’s got to stay out of the way.”
Starsky nodded his thanks and stepped over the flares to walk down the off-ramp and wind his way around the hoses from the fire truck toward the area where the ambulance was parked. He could see a number of yellow-jacketed EMS personnel swarming around the crumpled shell of the car, resting belly up like a dead thing. He saw Steve approaching at a run from the opposite direction.
Starsky moved hesitantly closer to the edge of the viaduct hoping for a glimpse of that white blond hair and some movement associated with life. He saw neither. Steve joined him, panting from the run where traffic had been blocked and he had to leave his car. The younger man started down the incline but Starsky held out a restraining hand.
“There isn’t room for anybody else down there. You’d only be in the way. Let the guys with the jaws cut him out and get him on the backboard, then we can help.” Starsky spoke with eerie calmness. At one level he was terrified, but had so completely buried the fear that all he felt at that moment was numb.
Steve paced, snapping his fingers in such a Hutch-like mannerism it brought a lump to Starsky’s throat. Starsky looked closely at Steve’s face as he turned to walk the few steps of his path in Starsky’s direction and saw tears glisten in the emergency flashing light’s glow.
“I shouldn’t have let him drive home. He was falling asleep in the middle of conversations. I should have made him let me drive him,” Steve said.
Why do you think you could make Hutch do anything? The simmering anger Starsky couldn’t let go kicked up a notch.
Steve leaned far forward resting his hands on his knees and letting his head hang. “Dobey asked me if I should pull the plug on Hutch tonight. Get him sidelined for a while until he got his head together. I should have let him do it,” Steve groaned. “He’d have been mad as hell at me but we wouldn’t be here trying to pry him out of the car like he was a fucking anchovy.”
You’re not taking that guilt trip alone, buddy. I should have insisted when I talked to Dobey, too. I knew how far he was out there. Starsky shook his head before a shout from below aborted his rebuttal.
“It’s a female, early twenties, I’d guess. Dead.”
Thank God. The thought struck Starsky like a blow. He paused briefly to regret the gratitude coming so easily and felt sadness at the pain undoubtedly coming to crush her friends and family, but held on tightly to his feeling of relief in the knowledge that it wasn’t Hutch.
He turned to meet Steve’s gaze and head back up to his car to keep looking when the officer closest reached out a restraining hand. Starsky turned, seeing the older man concentrating intently on the information being given to him over the walkie-talkie he held close to his ear.
“You sure described the car well enough, what’s going on?” the CHP officer asked.
“My partner didn’t make it home after a stake-out. I’m looking to find out where he is and why,” Starsky answered.
“That girl down there…” the officer turned briefly toward the car then back. “They just got close enough to get a good look. She’s got a bullet in her head. One shot, through her eye, she never knew what hit her.”
“Only one man I know who’s got the money to pay for that kind of talent and a reason to spend it.” Starsky nodded his thanks to the CHP officer and moved as quickly as he could up the steep incline to his waiting car.
“Bussell, you call for an APB and head to the stake-out by the freeway. I’ll take surface streets, check a few places to see if anybody’s seen him,” Starsky ordered. Any further conversation was drowned out by the sound of the motor powering up the jaws-of-life as they resumed their cutting into the car’s frame.
Starsky gunned the Torino away from the accident and wove his way back out into the slow-moving stream of traffic. At the first opportunity, he got off the freeway and hit the surface streets of the familiar area. He glanced at his watch and frowned at how the minutes were flying by and he was becoming increasingly frustrated. Come on, somebody give me a break here.
Leaning over to fumble with the mic to the radio, Starsky keyed it open, “Zebra-Three B, come in.”
“Z-3-B, got anything?” Steve asked.
“Peeper saw Hutch pull in to the Circle K on Grape Street. Didn’t see anyone with Hutch when he walked into the place. Says he came right out in a minute or two with a cup of coffee and left. He seemed positive that there was somebody else in the car with Hutch when he pulled away.”
“Is Peeper reliable?” Steve asked.
“Usually,” Starsky answered. “But Hutch could have felt sorry for one of the working girls or some other snitch and just given them a ride home. Could be nothing more than that.”
“I patched through to my house, nothing on the answering machine so he didn’t call me. I’m going to make a wider circle down by Alhambra Street and see if I see anything. Why don’t you call home?”
“I did from the Circle K, nothing. I’ve got a couple other places to check, I’ll get back to you.”
“Same here,” Steve said.
Starsky threw the mic down in disgust. “Hutch, where the hell are you?”
Starsky drove slowly up and down the congested, dirty streets and alleyways of their beat, watching, praying. His concentration was so intense when the crackle of the radio sounded he felt like he’d jumped a mile.
“Zebra-Three, this is Harbor Patrol 41. You still looking for a beat-up, tan Ford?”
“Yeah, Harbor 41, what you got?”
“There’s one abandoned next to a pier warehouse. Channel House Street entrance. Not parked, sitting half in and half out of the receiving dock with the front doors open.”
“On my way, be careful. Don’t approach the car or any of the buildings without back up,”
Starsky snapped.
“I hear ya. We’re all the way down at the other end of the row, just watching.”
“Z-3-B, come in…”
“Heard it. What’s your twenty, Starsky?” Steve asked.
“I’m about six minutes away.”
“I’m probably four minutes behind you,” Steve answered, his voice sounding muffled over the additional noise of his siren.
“Kill that thing before you get too close. No point in advertising that the Calvary’s arrived.”
“I thought that was the point of the bugle,” Steve replied with a laugh.
Yuck it up, asshole! Starsky thought.
When Starsky arrived at the first warehouse on the Channel House Street complex he saw the Harbor Patrol and another black and white unit waiting. Starsky pulled to the side and got out of the car quietly, leaving his door ajar. Nodding to the three men waiting for him he asked, “Who owns the warehouse?”
“Chancellor Import and Export Company,” the Harbor Patrol officer replied.
“It’s a subsidiary of… Gunther Enterprises,” the Bay City patrolmen answered in tandem.
“What a surprise?.” Starsky bit on his lower lip as his eyes searched the area. “Look, there’s another detective coming, he’ll be in a Maroon GTO. Call for another couple of patrol cars to station at the other end of this row and one at the exit that leads to the boats on the pier. Let’s seal off every way out. I’m going in for a closer look… quietly.”
“Shouldn’t you wait for more back up?” The patrolman wearing the nametag that read Sandowski asked.
“Sandy, that’s my partner in there. If it was yours, what would you do?”
The two patrolmen exchanged glances and nodded, one going to the trunk to open it and get on his flack jacket, bringing the other up for his partner. The driver in the car reached for the radio to request the additional back up.
Starsky checked his weapon and released the safety and nested it back in the holster. It felt stiff, hugging him in places on his chest and back and bounced a bit when he walked. He glanced at the strap, seeing there was a hole he could tighten it up a little, but dismissed the idea as too much trouble. He pressed tightly against the wall of the warehouse as he approached silently. In the distance he heard the wail of a siren and held his breath, freezing where he was until he could verify that the sound was coming from the freeway and was fading.
Starsky slipped up to a grimy window and tried to peer inside. Nothing. Bending so he would not cast a shadow as he passed it, he went to the next window. It didn’t yield any better view but a part of one pane was missing and he could hear the indistinct murmur of voices.
Starsky leaned down to pass the window and went quickly to the door closest to that section of the warehouse. He flattened against the wall and reached out to the knob, letting out a grateful sigh as it opened softly. He eased inside, gun drawn and not breathing as he tried to get his ears to hear something besides the loud pounding of his heartbeat. His eyes adjusted to the dim light and he stepped over debris on the floor as he followed the indistinct sounds. One voice got louder for a moment, the ringing “Fuck You!” came through crystal clear and Starsky smiled, instantly recognizing the voice. His smile changed radically when the voice was cut short by the sound of a fist connecting with flesh.
He reached another door and, through a small piece of broken glass, he could see into the room. The voices were easily understandable now. Hutch was tied in a chair, hands behind him. One eye was almost swollen shut, his bottom lip split and bleeding. There were two men, very big muscular men standing on either side wearing T-shirts and jeans, while the man doing most of the speaking wore a very expensive looking suit with alligator shoes. Starsky strained to get a better look at the man’s face, believing there was something vaguely familiar about him, but he only got a quarter view of the back of his head and not enough of his face to make a connection. The two guys there for the muscle he was sure he had not seen before.
Come on alligator shoes, turn around just for a second, just for a second… Starsky wished silently. As if his thoughts had been transmitted to his partner, when the suited man took a step closer to speak in a slimy and conspiratorial way to Hutch, Hutch reared back and spat at him. The suited man turned his face away, giving Starsky a clear view and he recognized him immediately as one of the many suited men sitting at Gunther’s legal table the previous day in court.
With a bellow of rage and a jerk of his chin to the muscle men, the lawyer watched in cold silence as two men stepped forward and pummeled Hutch’s body. Each man took his turn inflicting the punishment and seemed to enjoy it. Starsky’s stomach turned hearing blow after blow, culminating with a sickening sound of Hutch coughing and choking around his own vomit as he tried to breathe.
With a soundless signal the suited man waved off the muscle, and still wiping Hutch’s bloody spittle off his face with a silk handkerchief, he walked smoothly over to the table and pressed a tape recorder there.
“You’ve been under a lot of stress, detective. I’m sure you know that. Your superiors know that, even the partner that you’re nursing back to health knows that. Week after week, things mount up and take their toll, don’t they? Now what I have here is a statement that you are going to sign. It explains all that. It also recants a large segment of your previous testimony, which was very damaging to my client. The sooner you agree to sign this, the sooner we’ll be done here and you won’t have to be uncomfortable anymore. I promise you, the discomfort up to this point has really been nothing compared to the extremely creative ways of the future if you don’t comply.”
“Nobody would believe it. You’re fooling yourself,” Hutch mumbled past his bloody lips.
“No, I’m not, but perhaps you are. Listen.” The suited man pushed a button on the tape player and Starsky got cold all over as he recognized Dobey’s voice and a portion of the conversation Starsky and he had yesterday.
“Your partner was the worst loose cannon I’ve ever seen. I’d have pulled him off the streets in a heartbeat, but I was afraid he’d give in to the fear that you were going to die and he’d put a bullet in his brain so he wouldn’t have to watch it happen.” Dobey’s voice sounded clearly from the tape recorder.
Fuck, the sonofabitches tapped our phone. Starsky felt a black rage bubbling up. He leaned forward to get a better view of Hutch. Watching his partner stiffen with the recognition of Dobey’s voice, Starsky closed his eyes as he heard the words their Captain had spoken, knowing Hutch was hurt and humiliated at them now being used against him. Starsky cringed when he heard his own voice agreeing with the Captain’s statement that Hutch might not pass a psychological review in his present state of fitness as an officer. He saw the defeated slump of Hutch’s shoulders just before the tape player was shut off.
“Still think it’ s so far fetched, Detective? Everyone’s been worried about you, your boss, your partner. You’ve been burning your candle at both ends. Something had to give; it’s understandable. Given that kind of stress, why, anything can happen.” The man stood and walked to stand in front of Hutch, blocking Starsky’s view. “You aren’t stupid, Hutchinson. You know you’re going to die here. I’m just giving you a chance to make the going a little easier. It doesn’t have to be this way.”
“Thanks, Stuart. You’re all heart,” Hutch said, his voice strong and steady, but Starsky could hear an edge of defeat that hadn’t been there before the playing of the tape.
“I can make it a very easy passing for you. One little shot and you drift off peacefully asleep, never to wake up.” As Stuart spoke, Starsky watched him reaching for something out of the inside breast pocket of his expensive suit. He tossed a metal case to one of the muscle men at Hutch’s left and stepped back. Starsky could see Hutch’s eyes following the case as if it was a cobra. The muscle man opened the case; the bare light bulb hanging from a drop cord picked up the glint of the glass syringe inside. “Or, I can send my boys over to your house and they can pay a visit to your convalescing partner. He was hurt badly, I understand. Suffered a cardiac arrest while in the hospital, I believe I heard. I’d bet a fall down the stairs at your place would put him right back in the hospital, don’t you think?”
“You stay away from him, you bastard!” The hesitation in Hutch’s voice from earlier and the fear on his face when he looked at the drugs works completely vanished now and in their place… rage emanated from every pore.
Starsky caught some movement out of the corner of his eye and saw Steve stealthily approaching. Starsky eased back a few steps to meet him.
“Hutch is in there with a couple of bodybuilder types and one of Gunther’s lawyers. They want him to sign something that recants his deposition and then they’re going to kill him and make it look like he OD’d.”
“Back up will be here in ten minutes or less,” Steve whispered and leaned back against the wall to wait.
Starsky stared at him. “Didn’t you hear me? I said this is what’s going down right now. There isn’t going to be any board meeting to put it to a vote. He’s going to dust Hutch in the next five minutes. He’s tied to a chair, so he can’t help when the shit hits the fan. I doubt the lawyer is packing but he could be. Both of the goons are armed.” Starsky started to inch back to his place at the edge of the door when Steve’s hand stopped him.
“We wait for back up. There are only two of us, and you’re not a hundred percent. If we go in there like Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show, Hutch could get caught in the crossfire. That guy wants him dead, and I’m sure Gunther has paid him big bucks to see that’s just what happens. Hutch will be the first one to get it if we bust in. We wait,” Steve whispered
“Like hell I will. He’s got a syringe full of probably uncut stuff to shoot him up with.” Starsky shook free of Steve’s grip and slid silently to his original position. He looked back over his shoulder to where Steve stood and mouthed, ‘Get up here and kick in the door.’
Steve tapped his watch with a silent snarl and stood unmoving.
Starsky took a deep breath and positioned himself opposite the door, preparing to kick it in himself. He saw Steve move toward him, black-faced with fury as he did a roundhouse drop kick to the door, hitting the floor and rolling as gunfire erupted from several directions within the room. Starsky fired as he rolled into the room behind Steve, tipping Hutch’s chair to the floor, making him less of a helpless target.
Starsky heard Hutch’s grunt as he hit the floor, chair and all. Starsky fired several shots in the direction of one of the muscle men as he tried to hide his considerable bulk behind one of the upright supporting pillars. One of them struck the man in the calf and he dropped his gun with a bellow. Starsky caught the blur of the expensive suit making a dash for the door but Stuart stumbled when Hutch lashed out a leg to send him sprawling. As the attorney was falling he twisted and raised a small caliber pistol, but that was all the overture he got before Starsky’s gun barked again and the man crumpled and lay unmoving. He heard the scuffling as it continued in the hall behind him and ignored it, turning his attention to tipping Hutch back upright and getting him untied.
“Are you okay?” Starsky asked as he freed Hutch’s wrists and rubbed circulation back into them. Starsky’s fingers touched the rubber tubing that was still wrapped tightly around Hutch’s upper arm and he tugged it free. He pushed up the torn sleeve to check for an entry, only to have Hutch push the sleeve back down.
“It’s okay, he never got any farther than that. Thanks, another few seconds…”
Starsky nodded his understanding and pulled Hutch out of the chair to hold him.
“You guys are fucking nuts!” Steve exploded from the doorway. He aimed his anger at Starsky as he took a step threateningly forward. “Why couldn’t we have waited for back up? We might have had a few more witnesses to interrogate instead of this bloodbath. Shit!” Steve walked over to the only survivor of the encounter. He left one hand free, which the man held pressed to his injured leg, and cuffed the other wrist to a water pipe running up the support structure he’d tried to hide behind.
Starsky picked up the full syringe from the floor, using the silk handkerchief that rested near it and pointed it in Steve’s direction, shouting, “This wasn’t going to wait for us to get more back up. I don’t know how you work but for me… my partner is more important than the rule book and doing things the safe way.” Starsky was breathing heavily and his hand shook as he holstered his gun.
“It’s the way we work,” Hutch answered simply, resting his hand on Starsky’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze before letting his arm fall. “It’s the way we’ve always worked, even before.”
Starsky looked at Hutch’s tired face, seeing the respect and love there that had nothing to do with sex. He looked over at Steve and knew he could see it too.
Steve opened his mouth to argue then shook his head and shut it again, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
Starsky turned his attention back to Hutch and was startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned, surprised to find Dobey standing there. “What are you, who called…?”
“Dispatch,” Dobey said. “Right after they ran the license plate and got an ID on Hutch’s car at the docks, they called my house. Are you guys okay?”
Starsky turned to look at Hutch and smile. Hutch smiled back and nodded to Dobey before he exchanged a guilty look with Steve. Steve bent over, sinking down to squat, his fingers forming a pyramid in front of his mouth and his eyes closed. Steve was the picture of anguish.
“Yeah, they’re okay, no thanks to me. God, I really fucked up,” Steve mumbled with a small shake of his head. “I tried to play it by the book. If we’d have waited any longer, Hutch would have gotten enough uncut narcotic to kill him.”
“How did they grab you to begin with?” Dobey asked, stepping aside as several uniformed officers entered the room.
“I stopped to get coffee for the drive home and was too wiped out to look in the car when I got back to it. They were crouched in the back seat. I never saw anything until they sat up and pointed a gun at me and told me where to drive,” Hutch said. “I was careless.”
“How was he when he left the stakeout?” Dobey questioned, turning to Steve.
“Exhausted.”
“Worse than usual?” Starsky asked.
“No,” Steve admitted, raising up out of the squat and shoving his hands deep in his jeans pockets. “No worse than usual, but he’d been really upset from stuff going on in court today. He was mad as hell and when we first started that’s all he talked about. That was different. He’s been wired for some time, but… he used up a lot more energy than usual being so pissed at the legal bullshit today. Maybe that made a difference and I didn’t see it.” Steve sighed and pinned Starsky with an intense green-eyed stare. “I offered him my place to go crash, like I always do, but he said no… like he always does.”
“He took you up on it once,” Starsky returned the look, giving Steve his coldest stare, watching the muscles in Steve’s jaw clench. Can it, David. Dobey’s here; this ain’t hardly the time.
“You mind not talking about me as if I’m not here?” Hutch complained.
“Why didn’t you drop him off, if you were that concerned?” Dobey asked Steve, stilling Hutch with a pointed finger.
Starsky bit the inside of his cheek to stifle the smile. Go ahead, smart-ass, answer him.
“I… should have, you’re right, Sir. That would have been the best action to take.”
Hutch swayed slightly and Steve stepped forward to extend a steadying hand.
“We’ve got it. Don’t hurt yourself,” Starsky said, steering Hutch by an elbow out into the hall.
Starsky turned at the door and tossed his keys to Dobey. “Have somebody drive my car to the hospital, please.” Starsky walked slowly, keeping close to Hutch as they stepped over the second muscleman where he lay sprawled, and out into the loading dock area, which was now full of police cars and Harbor Patrol. An ambulance stood ready, doors open, and a second was just pulling up, its door opening as it came to a stop. Starsky moved forward and flashed his badge at the EMT who stood blocking his step up into the back of the rig. “Here’s your patient. They’ve got the bad guy,” Starsky said with an outward jut of his chin. “Everyone else can wait for the Coroner.”
“Can’t you just check that my pupils are equal and let me go home?” Hutch asked the ambulance attendant as he sat down heavily on the stretcher.
“No way, partner. Not after the way they worked you over,” Steve said as he approached.
Starsky saw Dobey roll his eyes at Steve’s comment but it barely registered. The EMT started to block Starsky’s entrance into the ambulance behind Hutch. “This is my partner,” Starsky snapped. “I’m riding with him.”
The EMT looked over at Steve for a brief exchange of glances. “How many partners has this guy got?”
“Just one!” Starsky fired a scathing look in Steve’s direction and pushed past the EMT to get in. Steve nodded at the attendant, and with a soft touch to Hutch’s boot-clad foot, he backed away.
“How you doing, babe?” Starsky asked Hutch when the EMT climbed in behind him and pulled the door shut.
“I just want to be able to sleep for about a week.” Hutch leaned back to lie flat with a groan. “Can you get that in writing for me from one of the doctors?”
Starsky wrapped both hands around Hutch’s cold one and leaned close to whisper into his ear. “You hang in there, you hear me? Show me the stubborn, pig-headed sonofabitch I fell in love with. I haven’t fought this hard to stay here for you, to have you bail on me, you got that, blondie?” Starsky leaned back a fraction to draw his hand across Hutch’s forehead to sweep back his hair, absently removing a strand of hair stuck by blood to the side of Hutch’s face. He leaned closer again to whisper past the lump in his throat. “I love you, babe. I’m sorry I underestimated the guilt you were carrying. God, Hutch, I thought when I told you it wasn’t your fault that we were past it. I never knew you hadn’t let it go.” Starsky wiped a trembling hand over his own face to get the sweat out of his eyes. “It’s gonna be okay. I got ya. We ‘re gonna be okay.”
Hutch’s eyes moved rapidly under his lids for a moment, then struggled to open a crack. He turned his head in Starsky’s direction, then frowned. “I’m really tired.”
“Yeah, I know you are, but stay with me, you can’t go to sleep just yet,” Starsky said.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Hutch asked struggling to focus.
“I’m fine, partner.”
The EMT hung up the radio hand piece, having received the orders from the base station, and moved past Starsky to open the drug box in the jump seat. He came back with IV supplies and went silently to work.
“What are you going to give him?” Starsky asked.
“Nothing unless we have a problem. This is just in case.”
“In case what?” Starsky asked
“In case when the adrenaline wears off he crashes.”
“Don’t let him fool you, he just wants the practice,” Hutch joked.
The EMT started the IV and Hutch never flinched. He jumped, startled when the young man raised his eyelids to shine the flashlight in them.
“Call Dobey, let him know. You’ve got to have some protection. If they’re still trying to get us out of the way before Gunther goes to trial,” Hutch said, struggling to sit up.
“Whoa, lie down. Dobey knows. He was at the warehouse, remember?” Starsky asked.
“Oh… yeah, I think… I’m not sure. I thought I dreamed it.”
“He’ll meet us at the hospital, Hutch. Just relax.”
“I don’t need a hospital, I just need to sleep for a while,” Hutch said, words slurring.
“They’re going to check you out, then we’ll go home.” I hope. “Might need a stitch or two. We need to make sure everything else is okay.”
Hutch looked at Starsky and fought to keep his eyes open. “Did you bring the syringe?”
“Dobey’s got it,” Starsky said.
“I… I didn’t get any, right?”
“Right,” Starsky answered firmly, reaching to stop Hutch’s hand where it scratched at the inside of his elbow. “You didn’t get any.”
“I don’t want it to be…”
“It’s okay, you’re going to be fine. It’s not going to cause you any problems, trust me on that.” Starsky lowered his face to speak close to Hutch’s ear knowing what Hutch was too afraid to even say.
“I couldn’t go through that again. I couldn’t do it. Oh, God.” Hutch’s jaw tightened in an expression of pain and his voice trailed off as he lost his fight to stay conscious.
Steve was waiting outside the Emergency Room when the ambulance’s back door opened and Starsky climbed out. Starsky felt himself scanned briefly, then Steve’s eyes went straight to Hutch.
The EMTs moved swiftly into the trauma room with the gurney. Steve kept the pace easily but Starsky was beginning to feel a catch growing in his side. He stubbornly ignored it. Determined and territorial, he stayed at Hutch’s side. The medical staff, however, had other ideas and both men were peeled off and dispatched to the waiting area.
Steve paced a few lengths, then asked, “You want some coffee?”
“No, thanks, you go ahead though,” Starsky said.
Steve looked back toward the inside of the ER and hesitated.
“If they move him or anything while you’re gone, I’ll be sure somebody waits for you here to let you know what’s going on,” Starsky promised grudgingly.
Steve turned his gaze back to Starsky and his green eyes narrowed as if doubting Starsky’s statement. “My dad used to be Chief of Staff here. I’m pretty familiar with the place. I doubt you could lose me.” Steve jingled the change he’d pulled from his pocket. He continued to look at Starsky, finally shaking his head. “I wonder… if you realize what you have… the treasure you should consider it.”
Starsky bristled and stood. “I don’t need you to tell me anything where Hutch is concerned, got that?”
“Don’t you? You treat him like he’s some dirty little secret. How many years has he been jumping through hoops for you? When is it his turn to matter? Have you ever put him first? Isn’t that what love’s about?” Steve took a step closer. “You’d just let him keep putting in twenty-hour days ‘til it killed him, huh? You couldn’t see how used up he was? You can’t be so blind that you couldn’t see he wasn’t fit to be on the street. Did you even care or are you just that fucking selfish?”
Starsky jumped at Steve then, grabbing his shirtfront and slamming him against the waiting room wall.
“You sonofabitch, you got no clue what any of this is about. I tried to get Hutch to stop going to court. I even called Dobey about it, or didn’t he tell you? You think because Hutch got wasted one night and called you… that you’ve got some sort of squatter’s rights? One fuck with you and you think that’s gonna wipe out the years we got together? Forget it! It ain’t never gonna happen. Hutch has a partner in every sense of the word, and it’s me. There is nothing going to change that. I don’t treat him like he’s my dirty secret. Who we tell about our relationship is our business and nobody else’s. We’ve weathered more than one investigation and we’re still standing. You do anything to try and damage what we have and I’ll kill you. You got that? I promise you, Hutch and I will be old and collecting our pensions before they ever find the body. Stay the hell away from us.”
“Take your hands off me, before I forget you’re still healing and drop you like a stone.” Steve’s voice was cold and hard. “I won’t have to do any damage. You’ve already done that. When you’re back on your feet again, you better think hard about making some tough choices if you want Hutch to stay. He knows I’m waiting. I won’t hide him or make him feel like he’s something to be ashamed of. He already knows what he could have with me, and you know what? He liked it,” Steve hissed, then batted Starsky’s hands away and walked toward the elevator.
Starsky felt the cold hand of dread grip his heart as Steve’s words dampened the murderous rage. He forced in several deep breaths and went to sit down and do the thing he hated most in places like this… wait.
Time passed. He’d expected Steve back long ago so when the man entered, laughing in a conversation with an older man in a white coat, Starsky felt like he’d been duped. Where the hell have you been? Why are you coming out from inside there, while I’m stuck out here?
Steve nudged the man in the lab coat in Starsky’s direction and took a drink out of a ceramic cup he carried.
“Stan, this is Dave Starsky. He’s the cop that was shot a few months ago in the parking garage downtown. It’s been all over the news.”
“Oh yeah. I remember when you were brought in. Stan Glover, I’m the ER doctor today treating Detective Hutchinson.” He extended his hand toward Starsky.
“Is Hutch going to be okay?” Starsky asked.
“Yeah, he’s fine. He’s in X-ray right now having a skull series with facial bones and a chest X-ray, just to be sure what looks like soft tissue damage is just that. When everything is finished, as long as there aren’t any surprises, you can take him home. I gave him something for pain so he’ll be pretty sleepy, just let him sleep. Wake him a few times every couple of hours just as a precaution. The nurse will give you an instruction sheet with everything written out.” Dr. Glover extended his hand. “Nice to have met you, good to see that you’re on the mend.”
Starsky shook the hand and nodded. “Thank you. He’ll be glad to know he can go home.”
“Good to see you, too, Steve. Tell your dad to give me a call if he wants to play golf this Thursday. We’ve got an opening and a 7:30 tee time. Take care of yourself.” Dr. Glover patted Steve’s back and let the hand linger for a few seconds.
“You bet. I’ll give him the message. I’m supposed to meet them for dinner later tonight. Thanks for taking care of everything, Stan. I appreciate the favor.”
“Can I see him when he’s done in X-ray?” Starsky asked.
“Sure, go on in Triage Two, that’s where he’ll be coming back to.”
Starsky moved to the indicated room, seeing one of the chairs sitting there well away from the others nested against the wall, and felt a surge of resentment picturing Steve sitting there while Starsky had been cooling his heels in the waiting room. Don’t mess with us, kid. We’ve got too much history.
He lowered himself into the chair and closed his eyes. He felt stiff and sore from sitting but when he took stock was pleasantly surprised that in spite of the unexpected activity, he felt pretty good.
A few minutes later Hutch was wheeled in from X-ray. Starsky stood to help steer in the gurney. “Hey, babe. How ya doing?” Starsky whispered, bringing Hutch’s hand to his lips briefly, then resting it back on the bed.
Hutch turned his head toward Starsky with a grimace. “Did anybody see the truck that hit me?”
Starsky searched his lover’s face, “Hey, at least it didn’t land on you out in the boonies this time,” Starsky said.
“Yeah. Staying in the city limits makes me easier to find. I’ve got to remember that.” He went along with the joke, letting his fingers tighten for a second around Starsky’s. Hutch sent a haunted look to Starsky, then closed his eyes to let out a deeply drawn shuddered breath. “I’m so tired… so tired. Could I have some water please?”
Starsky poured water from the pitcher into a glass and nudged the straw between Hutch’s lips. “Take it slow,” he cautioned.
Hutch drank a few swallows and pulled away from the straw. “What time is it?” Hutch asked, his voice a bit stronger with the moisture helping.
“A little before noon,” Starsky answered, surprised at the lateness of the hour. “Soon as they check out your pictures and we know your hard head is still in one piece, we’ll go home. Go back to sleep. I’m right here.”
Starsky sat there watching his lover sleep, fighting the images of the crumpled car and the warehouse playing over and over in his mind’s eye. With any luck the ballistics report will match the bullet from that girl with one of Gunther’s muscle. That, with the hit on you, should lock that case down so tight a public defender could get a conviction. No more courtroom bullshit. You’re done.
The doctor and Steve entered. Starsky turned deliberately, not moving his hands from Hutch’s and tightening his grasp as Hutch awakened and tried to move it away himself.
“Well, Detective Hutchinson, the X-rays were all negative, and you can go home. The nurse will bring in an instruction sheet. You can eat anything you feel like, take the pain pills as you need them and put some ice packs on the worst of it to keep the swelling down. Give us a call or come back if you start having any problems, like blurred vision, nausea, anything like that. Any questions?”
“Where are my clothes?” Hutch asked.
Steve leaned down to lift a plastic bag from under the stretcher and rest it gently on the gurney between Hutch’s feet. “Lab guys took your car to impound to go over it for evidence; here’s your key ring minus the one for the ignition.” Steve fished the key ring out of his pocket and dropped it next to the bag. Steve stood looking at Hutch a moment, then let his eyes flicker to Hutch’s hand still possessively covered by Starsky’s. “You need anything before I go?”
Starsky bristled but kept silent. You’ve got brass ones; I’ll give you that.
“No,” Hutch answered quickly. “I’m fine, thanks.” Hutch looked at Starsky, tapping his thumb against Starsky’s hand where they were joined to get his attention. “I’ve got everything I need. Thanks.”
Steve nodded and looked at the floor for a second before turning. “I’m going to follow up on some stuff, I’ll catch you later.”
Starsky sent a glare that said clearly, don’t call. Steve cleared his throat and with a nod of his head, left the room.
Starsky helped Hutch dress, gathered prescriptions and instruction sheets and went to pull the car around to the patient pick-up entrance as an orderly wheeled Hutch out. When Starsky got out of the stopped car to come and open Hutch’s side, he got a glimpse of the back of Steve’s head as he walked away. “What did he want?” Starsky asked irritably.
“Steve?” Hutch asked.
“Yeah.” Quit stalling, just answer me.
“He wanted to apologize again.”
Motherfucker. “He should! He was lousy back up.” Starsky nodded his thanks to the orderly as he shut Hutch’s door and went to get in on the driver’s side.
The drive home was silent. Hutch dozed in the car while Starsky picked up his prescription at the pharmacy near home. Hutch woke up reluctantly when they arrived in front of Venice Place and let Starsky direct him up the stairs.
“Want to take a shower?” Starsky asked as he unlocked the door.
“No, couch, some ice for my head and you next to me. I’ll shower later.”
Starsky smiled and took Hutch’s jacket and holster as Hutch settled on the couch. He returned with an ice pack and a tall glass of water, handing Hutch one of his pills to take. Starsky settled in, raising Hutch’s legs up to rest across his own. The TV droned on barely to the first commercial before both men were asleep.
A soft knock woke him and, being careful not to wake Hutch, Starsky reached for his gun as he went to open the door. He was surprised to see a deliveryman standing there with an enormous fruit basket in his arms.
“Hutchinson?” he inquired as he checked the numbers on the door.
“Pass me the card,” Starsky said, without removing the security chain from the door. He glanced at the message, then sighed, “Just a sec.” He closed the door to release the chain and holstered his gun before opening it again.
“Ssshhh,” Starsky cautioned, motioning to his sleeping partner on the couch as he stepped out of his way to let the man in. He led the way to the kitchen table, clearing off a place to set the basket. The deliveryman moved to go, waving off Starsky’s offer of a tip.
“Already covered. Have a good evening.”
Starsky nodded without looking up, his eyes held by the words on the card.
Sorry to hear about your accident. We hope you’re feeling better soon.
Sincerely, Dr. and Mrs. Bussell.
For a brief second Starsky was tempted to crumple up the card and throw it away, wanting instead for Hutch to think the gift was from Metro. He neatly replaced the card into the florist’s envelope and fastened it to the cardholder on the basket’s handle. “I won’t let you go easy, babe. Steve is going to have to go through me to get you. It’ll take more than hot sex and a little family acceptance. I ain’t gonna just step aside.” Starsky walked back to sit on the end of the couch between Hutch’s feet.
“What did you say?” Hutch slurred as Starsky sat down.
“Nothing, babe, go back to sleep.”
Starsky leaned over rubbing the back of his knuckles against Hutch’s cheek. He smiled as the sleepy eyes opened for him again. “I love you, Blintz.”
“Love you, too.”
***
The sound of the shower running awakened Starsky and he blinked in disorientation for a second. He smelled food being warmed up in the oven and got up to investigate more closely. He saw the card out of the fruit basket now lying discarded on the counter by the sink. He turned when the bathroom door opened and Hutch stepped out haloed in a cloud of steam. His face upon seeing Starsky awake broke into a wide smile. The sight of Hutch’s happiness was such a sweetly welcome one. “You look rested, how do you feel?” Starsky asked.
“Good, a few places that will be colorful for a while yet, but other than that, good.” Hutch draped the towel he’d been drying his hair with around his neck and walked to Starsky, arms extended. Starsky let himself be wrapped in a warm moist hug, locking his fingers together behind Hutch’s back.
“It felt good today.” Hutch said tightening his hold.
“What?”
“Working again, us… the way we work. I knew you’d find me. I never doubted it.”
“Well, I wish your telepathy had sent me a message, ’cause for a while there babe, I was really sweating it.”
“No way. Me and Thee. Never failed us yet. I’m not sure how I lost sight of that for a while, but I did, and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I swear.” Hutch kissed Starsky’s neck and face with light touches until he reached Starsky’s lips and ran his tongue across them, requesting entrance. They kissed with a gentle passion that quickly escalated to a flame that burned them both. When Starsky broke the kiss he was panting and Hutch’s face had more color than Starsky had seen on it for weeks.
Hutch ran his fingers feather light over Starsky’s temple to tangle in his hair. His lips came to follow the path, nuzzling at his ear and down his neck while long fingers unfastened the buttons on his shirt. Hutch ran both hands over the front of Starsky’s chest playing in the hair there, finding the bud of a nipple and teasing it to hardness and kissing his way across the chest to the other.
With a groan Starsky yanked off the tie holding Hutch’s robe together and rubbed it roughly down off his shoulders and out of the way. Hutch straightened and assaulted Starsky’s mouth again and the two men stumbled toward the bedroom alcove to fall heavily on the bed. Arms and legs tangled and the intensity of old passion flared, neither man stopping to go slow or gently into that good night. Starsky kissed down Hutch’s smooth chest while he let strong arms turn his body around, Hutch’s hand gripping his buttocks, until their bodies were entwined in the age-old “69” position. Hutch’s mouth searched for and found his hardness and swallowed it. Starsky’s mouth matched Hutch’s in rhythm and intensity and both men periodically drew back, the overwhelming sensations being given or received too much to keep going. A breath, a calming stroke along a hip and the mouth returned, the fire again escalating and mutually consuming.
Starsky growled in his chest a brief warning before shooting down his lover’s throat, Hutch following close behind, swallowing the offering as his body shuddered in the giving of his own. Still and panting, heads pillowed on sweaty thighs, both men lay still. Starsky felt the room spinning and he slowly released his closed fist, fingers stiff from the pressure as he’d grabbed the sheet during his climax and ran his hand along Hutch’s leg.
“God… I’d forgotten it could be like that,” Starsky said. “It seems like it’s been so long…”
“You okay?” Hutch asked, still breathless.
“I am more than okay,” Starsky answered. “I love you.”
“You, too.” Hutch mumbled after a second.
“It did feel good…” Starsky started.
“Any better and it would have killed me.” Hutch whispered against Starsky’s hair as he turned around and settled himself next to him and cradled Starsky’s head on his chest.
“That too, but I meant at the docks.” Starsky smiled and kissed Hutch’s chest. “I was really afraid of that…”
“What?” Hutch prompted.
“What I’d do the next time I was getting shot at. It’s one of those things that I dream about off and on, not just the shooting in the garage, but any shooting. I hear the shots; sometimes I don’t even have to see where they’re coming from… I just hear them and all I can do is run.”
Hutch’s arms tightened around Starsky. “You didn’t run… you jumped in with both feet, like you always do.”
“Yeah, that’s the part that felt good. I did! I needed that, Hutch. I needed that real bad. I always thought I’d get better physically, I mean after I got out of ICU and could move a little and eat again, I always knew… I’d heal physically. I knew it might take a while and I’d have to work at getting strong again, getting my wind back. But I knew I could do it. It was the other part that I couldn’t see quite as clearly, you know? I’d dream about it and wake up in a cold sweat because the dream was always the same. I was running away, I wasn’t staying there to shoot back.” Starsky eased back and raised up on one elbow to look into Hutch’s face. “I kept thinking sooner or later I’d have a dream that would have me at least try to hang in, but it never happened that way. I was always running when I woke up.”
“Maybe now you won’t have the dreams anymore at all, because you know you can do it. You won’t need to try it in your dreams over and over,” Hutch said softly.
“Yeah, maybe.”
Hutch stretched cautiously and untangled himself from Starsky. “Let’s go see if what’s still warming in the oven is fit to eat.” Hutch tossed Starsky his robe off the chair and stepped toward the kitchen to pick his up off the floor, shrugging into it.
The phone rang and Starsky was tempted to let the machine pick up, then remembered Steve had sounded like he’d be in touch. Starsky picked up the phone intending to run block and answered sharply, “Starsky.”
“David?” his mother’s voice sounded concerned.
“Yeah, it’s me. How you doing?” Starsky cleared his throat.
“I’m fine, dear, but you don’t sound so good. Are you all right?”
“Yeah, just tired, Ma.” Starsky rolled his eyes at the quick evasion. “Hutch got in a little scuffle at work last night. We didn’t get much sleep.”
“Is he hurt?”
“No, thank God. Banged up a little, tired too, mostly. We’ll both be okay after a good night’s sleep,” Starsky said.
“I’m so sorry, son. Can I do anything to help? Do you want me to come back?”
“No, we’re okay. Thanks.”
“Are you really? I know things were a little tense when I left. Have you two had a chance to talk and make things better?”
“Yeah, we have… we are… Ma… the problem… what Hutch and me were fighting over… it was all my fault.”
“How was it your fault?”
“He was so tired, he was walking around like a zombie. I did some things that made the strain he was under worse… I should have seen it coming. I know him better than anybody. I should have realized he didn’t really let go of the guilt about me getting shot just because I told him to. I probably should have insisted he get some counseling, more than he got anyway. Plus… there was something else, Ma. Something that bothered him a lot and I could have done something about that and I didn’t. That might have helped, I don’t know…”
“David, listen to me. When I first arrived and I saw how badly you’d been hurt… really saw first hand what you’d suffered, that’s all I could think of. I’ll admit it. My whole focus was you and your welfare. What mother’s wouldn’t be? But as you got stronger and began to feel better, I starting thinking about what Ken had suffered too. Only his wounds didn’t show. You couldn’t see them so you’ve had no idea that they weren’t healing. Yours were, so we all assumed Ken’s were too.”
“But they weren’t, Ma.” Starsky sighed. “I don’t know why that took me by surprise, but it did. I know about them now and we’re going to finish healing together. What we have is worth whatever it takes.”
“What you have… I don’t understand?”
“The relationship we have, Ma. It’s worth whatever it will take to set it right again,” Starsky said.
“Of course it is. You’re lucky to have a friend like Ken and if you mean that, then believe it with all your heart and make Ken believe it too. Prove it to him, in whatever way he needs to see it. I don’t believe it will take much convincing,” Anna’s voice was soft and encouraging.
“Yeah, I know what it’ll take.” Starsky’s voice was halting and tight.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come back and help you?”
“No, I’m sure. Besides, Hutch’s back didn’t do very good on the couch; it wouldn’t be an option now at all. I wouldn’t want that to embarrass you.”
“Why would it embarrass me?”
“I… we… Ma… Hutch and I…” the words stuck in his throat and were choking him. He squeezed his eyes tightly, swallowed hard, and when he opened them again he saw Hutch standing in the doorway drying his hands on a kitchen towel.
“I never knew why he slept out there in the first place. I guess I thought he was just modest and wanted to step aside and let me do the caretaking. Did you think I didn’t know that wasn’t where he usually slept?”
Starsky did choke then. All the air went out of the room as if he’d stepped out of a plane at high altitude. His heart was beating so forcefully it hurt where it slammed against his chest wall.
“David… your father was a cop. A good one. He had a couple of partners in his years on the force that he was really close to. They loved him, he loved them. I know how partners act.”
“Ma, it isn’t like that… it’s more…”
“How much more, what are you telling me?” Anna asked, her voice sounded guarded.
“Ma… just listen and don’t interrupt. I… ah… What are the words? What should I call it?” he muttered almost to himself. “I have a friend who loves me, and I love him. Is that such a bad thing? Is that special love so easy to find I should turn my back on that kind of love and be alone? What good could come out of that? You’re alone now, is that what you want for me too? I wouldn’t want that for you.” Starsky heard his mother sigh loudly and he wished he were doing this in person rather than over the phone. “Ma… did you hear me? Do you understand what I’m saying, here?”
“Yes, David. I heard you. No, I don’t want you to be alone…” Anna hesitated, then started again, “I’m not sure I understand what it is you’re trying to tell me.”
“Ma… Hutch and I are together, partners, not just at work. Do you understand now?”
There was silence over the phone for almost a minute and Starsky waited, giving his mother the time. “I see…” she said. “Partners… like that…” She sniffed loudly.
“Can you learn to be okay with that?” Starsky asked.
“I don’t know… I hope so… I’ll try. I… I… don’t know what to say… well, that’s not exactly true. I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t want you with a nice Jewish girl to give me grandchildren. Of course that would be my first choice. But it isn’t my choice, it’s yours. And you have to live with the consequence of it. Just like Nicky has had to live with the consequences of some of his choices.”
“Ma, Nicky broke the law…” Starsky started.
“I’m not comparing you. I know it sounds like it, but I only said that to let you know Nicky is still my son, even if he has done some things I don’t approve of. You are my son too. You don’t need my approval; you’re a grown man. I don’t have to give my sons permission to do anything anymore, I just love them. That goes with breathing, there is no stopping it.”
“You’re right about that, it’s like breathing. There is no stopping it. Hutch is my choice, Ma. I…” Starsky looked into Hutch’s face. “We… needed you to know that.”
Hutch’s face lit up with such a soft, sweet smile. Starsky felt it to his toes. “Dinner’s ready when you’re done,” Hutch whispered and walked back to the kitchen.
“I almost lost him, Ma. I want to make sure things are right between us again. That’s all that matters.”
“Then swallow that pride you got from your father and talk to him.” She hesitated, then began again. “David, not long after I married your father, we had a big blow-up over something too stupid to even remember now. I left and went home to my mother’s. She was at the grocery store and your grandmother was the only one home. I was crying and angry; she knew this wasn’t just a visit so she listened to me. When I was all done she handed me back my purse and told me to go home. I was shocked. I mean for over an hour I’d poured my heart out to her and here she was sending me back to that monster I was married to.” Anna laughed. “She looked me straight in the eye and said, as long as you both are still breathing, there isn’t anything you can’t fix if you want to badly enough. She said if you’re here when your mother comes home, she’ll tell you, ‘I told you so,’ and send you back into your room like the little girl you’ll always be to her. I’m treating you like the woman you are. Go home. Do whatever it takes to make it right and don’t stop talking until it is. Don’t answer the phone, don’t answer the door, don’t let anything stop you.”
“How long did it take?” Starsky asked, smiling.
“All night. But if I hadn’t gone home, you wouldn’t be here. It was June; you were born the next March. It was the easiest hard thing I ever did. I never regretted it. You and Hutch do the same. Turn off the phone and the TV, don’t answer the door and don’t let anything stand in the way of you making him understand how important he is to you. If this is the commitment you’ve made forever, then he comes first, David. First… before me, before the job, before yourself, before anything. Is he that important to you?”
“Yes. Yes, he is.”
“Then make him know it.”
“Thanks, Ma. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, son.”
He let the phone slip though his fingers, then rested his head on his closed fist behind his head. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that until he saw Hutch standing in the entrance again.
“Coming to eat?” Hutch asked.
“Yeah, be right there.” Starsky closed his eyes for a moment to let out a deep breath. Well, the world’s still turning, Ma didn’t keel over dead and you’re still here. We might get through this after all, blondie.
He pulled himself upright and tied his robe, following the warmth and enticing smells out to the kitchen. His mind going over his mother’s words in his head, he smiled. No matter how long it takes, we’ll keep talking until we get it right, babe. Neither one of us are quitters. I won’t give up if you don’t either.
Chapter 3
The past two weeks had flown by in a blur of tension and joy. Things seemed awkward at first, Hutch being so used to the caregiver role when Starsky had first come home he seemed unsure as to what his role was now. Hutch’s schedule had kept him away so much of the time while Starsky’s mother was there that he hadn’t seen the progress Starsky had made in his recovery and was adamant about not having Starsky overdo.
It took a few loud discussions about who needed what from whom to reach a point of equilibrium, but they eventually arrived there. Now it was becoming easier and things had relaxed. When in doubt, ask, became the watchword.
But there were still some areas of undefined tension that went untouched. A no-man’s land of no-discussion. Hutch was staunchly unapproachable and would allow for no discussion of the time when Starsky’s mother was with them. Nor was he willing to have Steve be the topic of conversation even when the officer called or stopped by.
Starsky, feeling the need to pick his battles for the time being, let them both go, telling himself that was okay at least for right now. They would come to a head soon enough.
Starsky woke and turned to snuggle against the warm body next to him and stopped halfway into the roll, seeing Hutch’s eyes open and staring at the ceiling. “Hey, what’s up?” Starsky asked circling Hutch’s waist with his arm.
“What do you mean?” Hutch asked.
“Usually you’re not laying there awake. You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, just getting my head together for the day, you know?”
“Making a list?” Starsky teased.
“Yeah, sorta.”
“Checking it twice?”
“Starsky, it’s nowhere near Christmas, we haven’t even gotten through Labor Day yet.” Hutch’s hug took the sting out.
“So what’s so important it has your baby blues open before the alarm clock?”
“Just going over some case stuff in my head. Nothing… it’s no big deal.” Hutch kissed Starsky quickly, then came back to deepen the kiss and enfold Starsky in his arms, pressing him with a full body hug. He leaned away starting to get up and was held in place by Starsky’s arms around him. “No, no… it won’t do any good to wake up early to get organized if I stay in bed doing the horizontal tango with you and are late getting in….again” Hutch laughed and kissed Starsky again quickly as he ducked out of the loose hold.
“Steve afraid the neighbors are gonna start throwing rocks at his car with him downstairs honking?”
“Probably…” Hutch answered from the bathroom as the shower drowned the flush of the toilet out.
Starsky stretched slowly, relishing the feeling that he could now without any pain and got up to start the coffee.
He was just pouring two cups when Hutch came out zipping up his jeans. “So what are you going to do today?” Hutch asked.
“I’ve got PT, then over to employee health with all the records and the recommendation that I’m ready to come back on desk duty.” Starsky made a face, then shrugged. “How long before you think I’ll drive Minnie so crazy she either bribes the doctor to reinstate me to active duty or kills me and hides the body?”
“I don’t know. I’ll let you know what the spread is for the pool they’ve got going. We might as well stack the odds to win in our favor.”
“What? There’s a pool? Who started that?” Starsky asked outraged. “What’s the winner get?” He looked at Hutch, outrage gone and eyebrows wagging.
“They wouldn’t tell me. I’m not sure they were going to let me get in on it. Thought I might represent a conflict of interest.” Hutch laughed around a bite of toast.
Starsky snorted and leaned over to lick the smudge of jelly on the side of Hutch’s lip. “They’re just jealous of the inside track.”
Hutch nodded and, holding his toast with his teeth, shrugged into his holster and jacket, patting his pockets for the keys.
“You driving again?” Starsky asked, handing him the car keys off the kitchen counter. “Steve’s car in the shop?”
“No, I just told him I’d meet him at work instead of him swinging by to get me. It’s out of his way. It’s a straighter shot for him to just drive to metro and we go from there.”
“Since when?” Starsky asked.
“Since a couple of days ago, why?” Hutch moved toward the door.
“Everything okay?” Starsky followed to stand by the door.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. It just makes more sense…”
“And?” Starsky interrupted.
“And what?” Hutch started to open the door.
Starsky put his foot against the door to allow it to open only a crack. “And what else? What aren’t you telling me?”
“And nothing, it’s just easier, that’s all. I meet him there and then we go do our job. Everything strictly professional; there isn’t any other stuff.”
“What other stuff?” Starsky fixed Hutch with a stare he knew Hutch would recognize as his, ‘you ain’t getting out of here without talking to me,’ look.
Hutch sighed before he answered. “There is nothing for you to worry about. This is just more comfortable for me. I don’t have to feel awkward about him stopping to get bagels on the way over, or he forgot something and we have to swing by his place in the middle of the day to get it Okay? It’s just easier.”
“Does Steve still think he’s in the running?” Starsky’s voice rang sharper than he meant it to and he saw Hutch flinch slightly and look away. Before Hutch could answer Starsky took him by the shoulders. “I’m not yelling at you, understand that. I’m hot at Steve, he’s a second string temporary stand in. I ain’t off the team. If he’s still got any doubts about that I’ll be glad to set him straight. No pun intended.” Starsky’s voice dripped sarcasm.
“You don’t need to say anything. Steve knows we’re tight. I guess he isn’t going to give up until he absolutely has to.”
“Hutch, he absolutely has to, now.'” Starsky was dead serious. If I need to be a lot more visible, no sweat, I can do that.”
“It’s okay, he’s not putting any moves on me. He knows I wouldn’t go for that at all. I’m just taking advantage of the distance. It’ll be better for everybody. I still have to work with the guy until you come back. He isn’t a bad partner; I feel safe with him watching my back,” Hutch said.
Starsky groaned and rolled his eyes. I don’t. “Well, since I’ll be downtown anyway, why don’t I stop by and we’ll grab lunch. The three of us.”
Hutch leaned over and kissed Starsky, laughing softly as he pulled the door open the rest of the way. “Sure, no problem. The Pits, about 12:30. Bring the air freshener.”
“What for?”
“So when you’re done spraying to mark your territory, Huggy’s booth won’t stink.” Hutch laughed again and shut the door.
“Get outta here!” Starsky called through the closed door. Starsky thought about what he was feeling and had to laugh at himself. Yep, that’s exactly what I’m doing. “And I’m going to love every minute of it,” Starsky said with determination.
Starsky entered The Pits and paused as his eyes became accustomed to the dimness after the bright midday sun outside. He glanced around and found Hutch and Steve in a booth toward the back talking with Huggy. Starsky sauntered up and clapped Huggy on the back to swing around behind the thin black man and slide into the booth next to Hutch.
“Hey, hey. How’s it hanging, Bro?” Huggy asked.
“Can’t complain,” Starsky answered giving Hutch’s thigh a squeeze under the table. “How you doin’, Hug? Looks like business is good. I guess having these two goons here isn’t bothering the customers.”
“With the way Steve plays pool and loses, retirement is just around the corner,” Huggy teased, giving Steve’s shoulder a playful nudge. “Now that the full party is present I’ll send Anita over to get your order. I need to see a man about a pony.” Huggy adjusted himself in his pants and walked away.
Starsky glanced briefly at the menu, then ordered the special when Anita came over to take care of the table. Steve and Hutch ordered, and when Anita gathered up the menus and left, Starsky turned to beam at Hutch. “You are looking at a full-fledged city employee as of Monday.”
“Hey, that’s great,” Hutch exclaimed, raising his water glass to clink against Starsky’s in
a toast.
“Knowing how nuts I’ll make Minnie in R & I, this should be the shortest light duty assignment in the department’s history,” Starsky said.
Steve smiled and nodded, raising his glass in a toast as well. “I’ll put her on my prayer list,” he joked. “Congratulations.”
Starsky looked at Steve as they touched glasses. You missed your calling, you should have been an actor, not a cop, Starsky thought as he marveled at the absolute sincerity in Steve’s smiling face.
“So what are you guys up to today?” Starsky asked, picking at the basket of chips and salsa Anita dropped off.
“It’s been a good morning,” Hutch replied with pride in his voice. “That Shephard murder we were working?” Hutch looked at Starsky and continued when he nodded. “We went and talked to his son again. There was just something that didn’t ring true about him. Steve and I both felt it, but there was nothing concrete. He had no alibi as such, said he was home with the flu that afternoon and evening. He could rattle off what was on TV but said he’d turned off the phone; didn’t want to be bothered.”
“And?” Starsky prompted, leaning in a little closer to Hutch.
“So we went back to talk to him this morning. I mean everything he said about what was on TV was right on, but if you’re sick and laying on the couch in front of the tube, typically you doze. You are in and out; he was too clear about what was on and when.” Hutch reached for some chips himself and Steve picked up while Hutch chewed.
“It just didn’t fly, the whole thing. So when we went back we went with the original warrant and I was looking at his entertainment center while Hutch was asking questions again. He had all these VCR tapes all labeled precisely, tapes and boxes. All except one, sort of at the back. It was labeled Gone With The Wind but was out of the box.” Steve stopped to reach for the chips, too.
“There I am talking to him and Steve’s down on his hands and knees in front of the TV and Shepherd’s kid can’t keep his eyes off what he’s doing down there,” Hutch took up the story. “You can feel the tension pouring off him and he’s starting to sweat. Steve grabs that tape and just sits down on the floor, really casual, and starts talking about what a great movie that was.” Hutch laughed and looked at Steve, then back to Starsky, “I thought the kid was going to shit all over himself.”
“He’s trying to be cool, and talk about the movie too, then I turn on the machine and slide the tape in and he freaks,” Steve said.
“The TV starts playing the tape and it isn’t old Rhett and Scarlet but ‘60 Minutes’ and all the stuff he said he was watching as an alibi when his dad was being shoved off the third floor balcony,” Hutch explained.
“The kid lost it and gave us a full confession,” Steve finished smugly.
“What tipped you off?” Starsky asked.
“Every tape was in the box, every box was labeled to match every tape. It was like those pictures in school… circle the one that’s different. It just stuck out. My dad was a stickler about that. Nothing would piss him off more than having to fumble a bunch of tapes out of their boxes to find something. I guess being anally oriented has advantages after all.” Steve sat back to lean against the seat and directed his comment to Hutch.
Starsky felt Hutch stiffen as sharply as if someone had just stabbed the blond. Oh, man, you have no idea how badly you just fucked up, do ya kid? Starsky took a drink of his beer and out of the corner of his eye caught the jaw muscle in Hutch’s cheek tighten as the flush rose from his neck to his cheeks.
“Good thing you had the warrant with you or it would have been totally inadmissible…” Starsky spoke calmly, then looked up and pinned Steve with a hard stare. “And all your anal orientation would have gotten you absolutely nowhere,” Starsky’s voice turned cold as ice.
Hutch pulled his beer mug back as he choked, reaching blindly for his napkin. Starsky passed him his with a perfunctory pat on the back, never taking his eyes off Steve.
Steve looked briefly at Hutch, then back to meet Starsky’s glare. “Yeah, you’re definitely right there,” Steve answered softly; all evidence of the earlier smugness replaced with a sad longing. “Hey, I just remembered, I’ve got to drop something off to a friend. Have Huggy wrap mine to go and I’ll meet you back at Metro, okay? Good to see you, Dave. Glad you got cleared to come back. You’ll be on regular duty in no time.” Steve stood and tossed a five on the table. “Take care, you guys.”
Hutch nodded but never looked up as Steve walked away. Starsky gave Steve a wave and was successful at keeping the smile off his face until the younger man had his back to the table.
“You okay?” Starsky asked as Hutch cleared his throat and coughed a few more times.
“I am if you are,” Hutch answered.
“I’m just fine, babe. We’re just fine.” Starsky smiled, running his hand up and down the warm strength of Hutch’s thigh, any further action aborted by the arrival of their food.
Later that night during dinner Starsky felt compelled to push the issue that they’d been dancing around too long, sensing now to be as good a time as any. “How about some wine?” Starsky asked. “We don’t have to get up early in the morning.”
“God, that sounds like we’re really old,” Hutch muttered ruefully.
“There are days when I wonder about that.” Starsky came from the hall closet with the wine bottle in his hand. “Don’t you, babe?”
Hutch eased down to the chair with a grimace. “Getting old?”
“Yeah, getting old… together. You and me.”
Hutch looked up a little warily from cutting the meat in the roasting pan. He passed several thick slices of the pot roast to Starsky’s plate without comment.
“I used to think it didn’t matter,” Starsky began. “I mean, I was a cop, maybe I’d go out in a blaze of glory and getting old wouldn’t be an issue.” Starsky laid a comforting hand over Hutch’s as he saw his lover pale. “Then I thought I’d be married and have some lady to grow old with, kids around, the whole white picket fence thing in suburbia, you know?” Hutch paused, the meat he had placed on his own plate untouched.
“Now all I think about is you.” The blond head of his lover snapped up and Starsky felt his breath catch in his throat at the beauty of that face. “Just you and me, working for however long we get to before the streets get too much and we make some different kind of career choices. Just… you… and me, waking up and going to sleep, being together… being in love.”
Starsky watched as he saw those light blue eyes fill and Hutch blinked a few times and looked away. “Anything else that comes to mind, where we live, how much money we have, even our health… it doesn’t matter. The only thing I can see is us… together. That’s the only constant there is. It’s the only thing I care anything about.”
The eyes that turned to face Starsky now did so behind a veil of doubt. “I wish it were that simple, babe. You almost make me want to believe it could be.”
“It can. It is. We both almost lost the most important thing we have these last few months. What’s a bigger wake-up call than that? If there is one, I’ll pass.” Starsky looked up and addressed his next words to the ceiling. “I got the message, no need to send any others, honest.”
Hutch let a breath out with a chuckle and slowly started to eat.
“I love you and for me that’s the bottom line,” Starsky said. “I’m tired of walking on eggshells and not saying the things we need to say. If you want to pretend that all the shit in the last month didn’t happen and we’ll act like we’re starting over without all of it, okay. I can do that; at least… I’ll try. But I need you to look right at me and tell me you love me, no matter what, for life. Because that’s how I love you.”
“For better or worse? Is that what you’re asking?” Hutch said.
“That part I’ve never had any doubt about. You’ve never been a fair-weather friend. I wouldn’t think you’d leave as a lover because of hard times. I was thinking more along the lines of, ‘forsaking all others,'” Starsky answered.
Hutch’s jaw dropped open, then shut tight with a snap. He took a couple of deep breaths before he turned to Starsky and tried to speak. “I have never loved anyone but you since we’ve been together.”
Starsky leaned back in the chair and let his jaw rise in defiance. “Careful…”
“What happened between Steve and me had nothing to do with love.”
“What did it have to do with, babe?” Starsky asked softly and without accusation.
“Pain. I was hurting and I just wanted some relief. It didn’t mean any more to me than if I’d used my own hand,” Hutch said.
“But it wasn’t your hand.” Starsky’s tone was flat.
“No, it wasn’t. I used Steve and I’m not proud of that. It was the wrong thing to do… to you and to Steve. If I could go back, Shit, I’d sleep in the car. But I can’t…”
“That was the only time, right?” Starsky asked.
“Absolutely. I give you my word.”
“And what can I give you?”
“Huh?” Hutch asked, confused.
“You’ve given me what I needed to hear, what it is you need from me?” Starsky asked.
Hutch hesitated, seemingly intensely interested in moving the food around on his plate, but eating none of it. “Starsky, I don’t need anything… I don’t…”
Starsky stood and handed Hutch his glass of wine, steering the glass to Hutch’s lips, then took a long drink out of his own glass. “Let me show you what I think you need.”
Starsky set his glass down and stood at Hutch’s side, turning his body in the chair to face him. He cupped Hutch’s face between his hands and kissed him, the taste of wine adding to the sweetness of Hutch’s mouth. He kissed down his smooth throat, licking at the mole on his right side. He rested his weight against Hutch’s thighs as he eased slowly down to his knees in front of Hutch and pressed his mouth against the hardness rising out of Hutch’s groin. He blew hot breath through the material of his sweatpants and felt Hutch press up against his mouth. Hutch moaned and tangled his fingers in Starsky’s hair, urging his mouth back down.
Starsky lowered his waistband and set Hutch’s fully engorged cock springing free. He caught it in one hand and guided his lips to the tip, tonguing the slit there and tracing the ridge around the head before engulfing Hutch more deeply in his mouth. Hutch groaned and began thrusting up gently and slowly. Starsky leaned back, letting his lips and teeth drag lightly over the length of Hutch’s shaft, blowing across the bobbing hardness as his lips set it free. “Come on,” Starsky whispered as he pulled on Hutch’s arm, leading them both to the bedroom.
Clothing came off slowly with hands and mouths touching, pulling gently away the distraction of cloth. They lay down holding and kissing, the mellow warmth from the wine giving way to a fire fueled by passion. Gentle and mellow wasn’t enough and Starsky took the lead. His kisses became more urgent, holding arms became hard pressing fingers as he stretched out full length on Hutch holding him down. Starsky’s mouth nipped and sucked a trail down Hutch’s chest and belly and he delighted in the feel of Hutch’s skin against his own as he slid down his body to kiss and nip at Hutch’s groin. Starsky sat back on his heels and raised Hutch’s legs to bend at the knee. “Hold ’em,” Starsky ordered and he nudged Hutch’s legs up toward his chest, spreading them apart.
Hutch grabbed his legs behind the knees and spread further to give Starsky every access. Hutch hissed in a breath as Starsky’s lips kissed and sucked up and down the inside of both thighs. Hutch’s hips rose slowly as Starsky’s mouth got closer to his genitals. Starsky drew a bead down Hutch’s balls to the pucker that lay beneath, circling it with his tongue, hearing Hutch’s sounds of pleasure and feeling the pucker twitch under the ministration. Starsky kissed back up the velvet sacs, tonguing each, then ran his tongue and teeth gently up the length of Hutch’s shaft. Starsky stilled its bobbing with a firm grasp of his hand while his tongue tickled over the head, around the ridge and dipped into the tiny slit. Starsky sat back again watching Hutch, seeing his face flushed with passion, eyes closed, white-knuckle grip on his thighs. He looked at Hutch’s cock, hard and throbbing inside his hand and he stroked it slowly, seeing Hutch’s head toss on the pillow and a drop of precum bead up and run down to Starsky’s fingers.
He rubbed over the moisture with his thumb. “Mine,” Starsky said, voice husky with passion. “Mine,” he said a little louder and clearer. “You’re mine and I want you in me. I want to feel everything you’ve got.” Starsky released Hutch’s hardness and urged Hutch’s legs to lower to the bed as Starsky stretched out on top of him and swiftly rolled them both over. Starsky then drew his legs up and opened himself to be taken.
Hutch reached for the lube on the nightstand and squirted a small amount out on his hand. He ran two fingers through it and spread the rest on himself. Starsky felt one finger enter him carefully and he opened and relaxed, moving against the finger, urging more. He felt a second enter slowly, carefully stretching. No, not this time. He groaned in frustration and pushed back against Hutch’s hand trying to encourage him to deeper, faster manipulation. But Hutch continued in the same vein, slow and gentle. Starsky opened his eyes and saw Hutch’s face, tightly concentrated in his effort for control. “How many times I got to tell you? I’m not glass, I won’t break if you fuck me.” Starsky offered, pressing into Hutch’s hand.
Hutch opened his eyes to meet Starsky’s and removed his fingers to press again with his dick this time. He entered Starsky’s body smoothly, stopping for a second to breathe slowly. “Don’t move, I’m too close,” Hutch panted.
“Don’t hold back. Do it! Make love to me like you mean it, damn it.” Starsky tightened himself briefly around Hutch’s fullness to make his point. “Give it to me, all of it. I want to feel like you’re still inside me tomorrow. I want to feel you shoot so hard I think I’m going to choke on it.” Starsky was moving against Hutch in a counterpoint rhythm that drove Hutch in deeply with each stroke. He clenched his internal muscles around Hutch knowing what the increased friction would do.
“I want you to come so hard, Hutch, you don’t even have the breath to scream.” Starsky encouraged once more seeing Hutch throw his head back and the muscles in his neck stand out like cords. Then he felt it. The wave after wave of hot liquid and the intense shaking of Hutch’s body over him. Starsky tightened himself around his lover’s shaft again and watched. You are so beautiful, golden man, all mine… mine. Starsky smiled as he felt the spasms slow, then stop. He ran his hands soothingly up and down Hutch’s sweaty back, feeling the trembling of the muscles there and the roughness of his skin as it went all goose bumps. You come head to toe, don’t you babe? God, how I love that.
Hutch slumped against Starsky, keeping most of his weight on bent elbows on either side of Starsky’s chest. “Oh my God,” he gasped. “That was unbelievable.”
“It ain’t over yet. Can you move?”
“Am I too heavy…?”
“No, it’s not that,” Starsky confirmed by hugging Hutch tightly to him. “I just want to finish inside of you. Roll off and get on your knees, blondie. I’ll let you cheat and hold on to the headboard if you need the support.” Starsky gave Hutch an encouraging nudge. “I’m going to fuck you into next week.”
Starsky ran his hands appreciatively down Hutch’s broad back, following his hands with licks and kisses. Kneading Hutch’s buttocks with both hands he ran his thumbs down the crease lightly, each pass going deeper until he leaned in and blew air over the innermost part, holding Hutch open with his thumbs. He ran his tongue over the inside and felt Hutch shudder.
Starsky reached for the tube of lube where Hutch had tossed it on the bed and squirted out a dab of the coolness at the top of Hutch’s crack, letting the cool gel slide down until he caught it with his finger and pressed one inside. Hutch was hot and tight and Starsky went slowly, waiting for the eventual give as the tight muscle ring relaxed. Hutch was panting again and moving back to press into Starsky’s fingers. “Easy, babe. You’re really tight.” It’s been a while. Starsky cautioned. Maybe Steve wasn’t all that much, that’s why he had to come on so strong and leave marks all over you. Starsky smiled smugly to himself at the thought.
“Come on, I’m ready. Do it, I want you so bad.” Hutch pushed back again.
“Relax, there’s no hurry. You’re not even taking two fingers yet I’m not going to rush this and hurt you, babe.” There isn’t any penance to pay here. The spirit’s willing but the flesh isn’t there yet.
Starsky eased back and entered Hutch with a second finger, scissoring them and easing slowly in and out. He rested up against Hutch’s back to kiss the warm skin under his damp hair, and rim his tongue around Hutch’s ear. “I love the feel of you, hearing your voice when you’re hot and knowing I made you that way.” Starsky keep his one hand busy preparing his lover’s body and let his other reach around to firmly stroke Hutch’s returning erection.
Starsky added a third finger and was satisfied that Hutch’s body was almost ready to accept him. “Whose are you?” Starsky spoke the words in a soft whisper against Hutch’s ear, feeling him shudder again. “I’m going to slide in you now, all the way. I’ll be in you so deep I’ll almost be touching your heart. Nobody gets inside you here but me, babe. Nobody. You understand what I’m saying? Now answer me… whose are you?”
“Yours… forever…” Hutch answered. “Ohhhh, do it, please…”
Starsky slowly removed his hand and guided himself to Hutch’s opening and pressed against it. There was some resistance and he hesitated, waiting to let the tight tissue relax and accommodate, but Hutch didn’t share the same patience and pushed back, encouraging Starsky’s thick shaft to move beyond the tension at the muscle’s outer ring. Starsky opened his eyes to see Hutch’s fingers holding a white-knuckle grip on the railing of the brass headboard. “Hutch…” he cautioned and started to ease back, when Hutch let go of the headboard with one hand and reached around to secure Starsky’s body where it was.
“Come on, push, God, don’t stop.” Hutch pulled Starsky against him while pushing his hips back to impale himself further.
Starsky felt the muscles give and he gradually slid deeper, then, with another steady push, was all the way in. He sighed, losing himself in the hot channel and just marveled at the feeling of connection. “I love you so damn much,” Starsky spoke softly against where his lips rested over Hutch’s shoulder blade. “You okay?”
“I will be if you’ll start moving. It’s been so long… there aren’t words to tell you how much I missed this.” Hutch put his hand back on the headboard and turned slightly to kiss the side of Starsky’s head.
Starsky started pumping slowly at first, then, as Hutch began to feel a little looser, he picked up the speed and the force of his strokes. Hutch reached down to cover Starsky’s fingers on his cock, encouraging the tempo there to quicken also. Starsky spread his knees so his strokes were angled more and could feel the effect of the next stroke as he swept past Hutch’s prostate.
Hutch jumped and let out a small cry. “Oh God, yesssss, just like that. Oh God, harder… more…”
Starsky anchored himself with one hand on Hutch’s hip and the other pumping Hutch’s cock in tandem with his driving strokes into Hutch’s ass.
“Stay with me, almost there, babe, almost…” Starsky panted, feeling his explosion imminent. He pressed his face into Hutch’s back as every molecule of energy inside his body circled and went nova out the end of his cock. Hutch’s own orgasm started and the squeezing spasms of Hutch’s body around Starsky’s exploding cock took his breath away.
He was lying next to Hutch when he opened his eyes but truly had no recollection of getting there. His focus at that moment was just drawing air in and out; everything else was secondary, every muscle Jell-O.
Hutch took Starsky’s face in his hands and leaned slowly forward to take Starsky’s mouth in a tender kiss. “It’s never been better, ever. God, how I love you.” Hutch brought his lips down gently once more, “Whose am I? Yours… forever…”
They kissed like that, the room silent except for the faint traffic noise outside and the music on the radio softly playing, the words of the song drifting on the night air.
Don’t give up on us, baby.
Don’t make the wrong seem right.
The future isn’t just one night…
It’s written on the moonlight, And painted on the stars,
We can’t change ours.
Don’t give up on us, baby.
We ‘re still worth one more try.
I know we put our last one by,
Just for a rainy evening,
When maybe clouds are few…
Don’t give up on us, I know.
We can still come through…
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