Places in Time

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A continuation of Lynna Bright’s A Place to Hide and A Place in the Sun.

In A Place to Hide, Hutch, who had left the police force and became a lawyer, now has a live-in relationship with the daughter of his boss, also a lawyer. Starsky remained on the force, was now a captain, and a husband and father of two. They meet again when Starsky comes to his ex-partner for some help. Heat flares between them and they become lovers.

In A Place in the Sun, even though Starsky and Hutch’s new relationship fills them with guilt, their commitment to each other grows deeper. Hutch leaves the woman he’s been living with but later learns she is pregnant. A wonderful trip to a mountain cabin with Starsky only makes their subsequent parting even more difficult. What can their future hold? And why is someone suddenly tailing Hutch?

Places in Time picks up where Lynna’s story ends.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Several years ago, Lynna Bright wrote and published two stories, “A Place to Hide” and “A Place in the Sun,” that beautifully told of David Starsky and Ken Hutchinson’s discovery of the physical extension of their love for one another. Love they soon came to realize was all encompassing for the two of them. Love they wanted to spend the rest of their lives sharing. The depth of their love for each other was destined to be tested over and over again by profound guilt for causing people they loved pain, by fear of discovery that could cost Starsky his job, and by the lack of gay rights that could eventually cost them their children.

The following is my continuation of Lynna’s story line, a story that was both pleasurable and painful–not to mention downright scary!–to write. Starsky is married with two young children, Kenny and Sarabet. Hutch has a child on the way, carried by his former lover, Jeri Eastman. I have taken the liberties of carrying on with the establishment of Starsky as a police captain and his son as the older of his children, as written in “A Place To Hide.” Also, I call Starsky’s wife Liz or sometimes Lizzy. Hutch is an attorney working for Quentin Cohen and is living in an apartment on Quentin’s property. Starsky and Hutch have just returned from Aspen where they celebrated New Year’s Eve together. Just after saying good-bye to his lover at the airport, Hutch discovers that he and Starsky are being followed.

It is my honor to honor the memory of Paula Wilshe. Many, many thanks to Karen-Leigh for bidding on my writing at auction and for giving me the opportunity to write this. A very patient and encouraging Karen-Leigh. And to Cindy E, for all of her help. Karen-Leigh and Cindy co-beta’d my story, and I am forever grateful. Thank you, friends.

From Lynna Bright’s “A Place in the Sun.”

He and Starsky parted at the airport, taking separate cabs as they had done when they departed for Aspen. Starsky’s had only just now pulled off when the sound of screeching tires turned heads…but while almost every head had turned at the sound, that man was looking right at him, right into his eyes…

Something about the old man registered with Hutch. Some buried impression stirring, trying to grab his attention…

He’s keeping tabs on me. On us…

We were careful! So goddamned careful. Denying ourselves moments we could’ve easily taken. For what? Oh, God, Starsky…

And now, “Places In Time” From Jane:

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New Years in Aspen. Ken Hutchinson leaned against the window frame and gazed out at the shadows gathering in his garden and remembered. Two weeks ago…a month, a year… It seemed so far away, the peace and comfort and ease that that weekend’s worth of time had brought. Time that had finally helped him surpass his willingness to accept just being friends and embrace, fully embrace, what it meant to be David Starsky’s partner. Time that had opened all of his soul to his lover and all of his lover’s soul to him. Time that had nurtured commitment with all of its hope and promise and faith, their future together looming before them. Two weeks ago he had been certain. David Starsky was his and he was David Starsky’s.

But now that time was far away, mired down under old fears and emotions he was too afraid to confront on his own and too afraid to share, even with Starsky. Far away because that one face in the crowd at the airport had taken Ken Hutchinson back to the beginnings of his love affair with Starsky, when their time together had seemed too good to be true. His doubts had been rekindled and he fought with himself and held himself away from his lover. I miss you, Starsk, I love you so much, I want you, but I’m so afraid, don’t know what else to do… His first instinct, to go directly to Starsky and tell him that they were being tailed, had quickly been dismissed. He knew Starsky would fight, confront the man, and he couldn’t allow him to do that, couldn’t risk Starsky’s wife finding out that way, couldn’t risk Starsky’s position with the Police Department. Couldn’t risk Starsky. Halfheartedly convincing himself it was the best thing to do–I’m protecting you, Starsk, you have so much more to lose than me–phone calls ended with soon rather than tonight, excuses were made, white lies were told. And a void grew, or maybe just returned…had it really been gone altogether?

Starsky took it until he could take no more. Angry, wanting, lonely, confused. Afraid. What the hell happened, Hutch? I wasn’t wrong about us, I know I wasn’t. He’d felt it, too, in Aspen. A gate had opened and the two of them had passed through it and found the promise of their future together. And now here was Hutch, dancing away from him, stumbling over words on the phone, making excuses. After all these years you don’t think I know when you’re lying to me, buddy? His wife and the kids were at a birthday party–Liz had left a note letting him know where and that he was to join them. The note he left for her to find when she got home was a lie of his own and he wondered, not for the first time, if Liz knew when and how often he had lied to her these past months. There were years between them, too.

Something was on the television, Hutch couldn’t say what, just noise and motion to pass the time. Loneliness that he feared was truly loss crept into every corner of his mind. Head thrown back against the sofa, he drifted into half sleep and his mind went where he wanted to be. With Starsky. Loving him. Feeling Starsky under his hands, tasting him, needing him. Aching to hold him close, feel the tight security only Starsky could give him. He questioned himself, too, as the beginnings of an erection seemed to mock his thoughts. No, dammit, it’s not just sex. Sex is beautiful between us. Oh, God, I miss that with him, but I miss him more. Hearing him tell me, feeling him show me. How much David Starsky loves me. Loves me like no other…as I love him…

“Hutch?”

And there he was, standing in the doorway, dressed in jeans and moccasins, his chambray shirt hanging open. Hutch turned his head slowly–please, don’t be a dream–meeting blue eyes that bore into his soul, hurt and questioning. Rising to his feet he moved to stand before Starsky, well aware of the barrier between them, wanting desperately to tear it down. A long moment passed, Hutch’s hands rose nervously and fell back to his sides, words and sentences formed, but were swallowed down, pushed away by fear. Madding want was there, too, but he couldn’t touch, couldn’t slip his hands under that shirt to caress the warmth that breathed beneath the blue fabric. Not until he was invited. Not unless he was invited. Barely an inch separated them, each feeling the other’s breath on his face, heat on his body. Hutch watched his lover intently, and when the slightest softness came over Starsky’s features, when the blue eyes blinked back the beginnings of frustrated tears, Hutch broke the silence and begged.

“Starsk.” His voice hoarse with pleading, love and desire flooding that one word. “Starsk, come to me, babe, please, come to me.”

Starsky did, to say no to Hutch unthinkable to him. Needing the physical reassurance of Hutch’s body, longing for the moving forward and beginnings they had found together in Aspen, Starsky struggled to set aside the hurt and anger and respond to Hutch’s entreaty. Still, his breath and body shuddered at Hutch’s first touch and Hutch cried out softly at the small rebuff and clutched Starsky tightly against him. Desire and missing each other took over and Hutch’s mouth against his own told Starsky talk would wait until later. His hands palming Starsky’s chest, finding their way up to his face and down his sides and back, told him what Hutch needed. You’ll have to take it from me, Hutch, show me your love, tell me with your body. Take us back. Please. I need you, too… Hutch held him by the hand, leading him to his bed. Starsky stood in silence as Hutch stripped him. Vulnerable and trembling, his penis remained stubbornly flaccid and Starsky longed for love and want to let him make love to this man he cherished. The weeks since Aspen and Hutch’s distance had propagated his own fears, and his body questioned and shied away even as Hutch’s erection pressed against his belly. Hutch cupped his face in his hands and Starsky could read it in his eyes. I’m sorry, Starsk. Please, come be with me… Starsky allowed Hutch to push him back onto the bed and he willed his body and mind to let his heart open, to let the fear go.

Hutch leaned over him, his kisses gentle, exploring the face and ears and neck he knew so well. Tracing down the muscled chest, the hard gut, fingers joining his tongue, teeth tugging at nipples and hair, soothing small bites with his lips. Laying his face against the warm softness of Starsky’s groin. That Starsky hadn’t achieved an erection didn’t surprise Hutch, not really; but it hurt, that part of Starsky being denied to him. Because of me, Starsk. I’m sorry, let me show you… Watching Starsky’s eyes darken as he took his still-soft sex into his mouth–look at me…watch, love–Hutch patiently nursed Starsky to engorgement, washing his balls with his tongue, biting at his shaft and glans until Starsky moaned in warning. Not yet, lover, not yet… Easing away, Hutch found Starsky’s inner thighs, the crook of his elbows, his armpits. And Starsky did come back to him–let me, Hutch–melting into Hutch’s body, wanting to give what he was being given, take back what was his, what he feared he had lost. His own tongue explored and tasted Hutch’s mouth, mimicked Hutch’s journey down his own body, finding all the known secrets. Finally turning Hutch in the bed and offering his cock to Hutch’s mouth as he held Hutch’s cock tightly in his own. Loving as partners, giving and taking. Soaring.

 

Late evening came and moonlight washed Hutch’s bedroom and the world beyond his windows in the soft gray and cream shades of old and treasured photographs. The room was quiet now, the sounds of lovemaking that had filled it moments ago quelled by the culmination of its occupants’ loving. The sharp ecstasy of shared orgasms muting their shouts, taking their breaths, leaving their bodies drained and contented. Feelings that had become familiar and treasured. Hutch had been such a tender and gentle lover that evening, his fingertips and tongue tracing and caressing every bit of skin, every texture, every fold and crease of Starsky’s body. Memorizing him, tasting him, tucking him away. The usual passion and fire of their lovemaking tempered by Hutch’s slow sweetness. And Starsky had reveled in it, submitted to his lover without answers to his questions, letting their lovemaking wrap around his mind and comfort him, letting him believe.

That they loved one another was as clear to Starsky as it had always been, but those two weeks that passed since Aspen tugged stubbornly at him, kept him from drifting off to sleep curled against his lover. Hutch’s tender loving had reassured him, soothed away the anger and want, but the questions and fears were still there, still demanding answers. What’s goin’ on, blondie? You ready to talk about it now? Tell me what happened? What took you away? Pressing his body against the length of Hutch’s back, he allowed his hands to wander over the smooth chest he held in front of him, worrying a nipple, finding the heart that still beat so quickly, even as his own drummed sated and sleepy.

“Hutch? Talk to me? Tell me what the matter is?”

The questions breathed across Hutch’s ear and the heart Starsky held his palm to quickened even more. Sighing, Starsky pressed Hutch’s shoulder to the mattress, turning him to his back, blanketing him with his own flesh. Chest matching chest, belly to belly, softened genitals cuddling together above firm thighs. Twining his fingers into his lover’s hair, kissing his lips…happy, worried. I could stay here forever, Hutch, you gonna let me?

“Hutch, what is it?”

Hutch tensed beneath him, the quick rhythm of his heart pounding against Starsky’s chest. “David.” How do I tell him? How do I not hurt him? “Starsk, we have a problem…we…I….we’re being tailed, Starsk. Probably by Jeri. We have to… Dammit, Starsk! All the people who will be hurt. There’s so much you could lose… I can’t let…not for me! Oh, David, your babies…your job…everything you fought so hard to survive for, it could all be taken away.”

Hutch was finished. His words leaving him as rapidly as the warm space vacated by Starsky’s body was replaced by cool, empty air. He listened as the door to his garden slid open and clicked closed, his body feeling heavy and foreign as he pulled himself to his feet to follow. Leaning against the large window, he gazed out at his lover. Starsky stood in the center of the garden, moonlight sparking off his curls, defining the muscles of his back, the sweet swell of his ass. Arms wrapped in tight protectiveness around his chest, the chest that had known so much agony, the chest that had held a stilled heart. And now I’ve broken it, haven’t I, Starsk?

Starsky turned at the small noise the door made when Hutch opened it. The moonlight kept the anguish on his face hidden in shadows, but it couldn’t keep it from his voice, couldn’t keep it from his posture, from the hand so desperately reaching for his partner. His fears tumbled out in question after question.

“Hutch…Hutch, I don’t understand. Are we back at that place again? Where we’re not sure? You tellin’ me good-bye? Is that what this is all about? God, Hutch, don’t you love me enough to fight for me?”

Hutch’s head snapped up at the last question. I deserved that, oh, God, I did deserve that! “David! Oh, Starsk, you know I love you…more than anything, I love you. But…it’s just…”

“Stop, Hutch. You listen to me and you listen good. What I fought so hard to survive for is standing in front of me. And in case you’re too damned dense to catch on, I’m talking about you. There are no ‘buts’ or ‘it’s justs’ between you and me. There can’t be. I will not give up my life when I’ve just found it, just realized what and all that it is. And my life is you standin’ beside me, all the way, Hutch. Forever.”

Hutch’s hand found Starsky’s then, pulling him into his arms. Words caressing and soothing between them. I’m sorry, forgive, I only, always love, please, show me… Starsky’s mouth was soft against Hutch’s lips, warm against his face, kissing away his tears–you always…I love you…mine–firm as he pulled Hutch’s breath into his own mouth, filling his own body with his lover’s life. And the rose-scented breeze curled around them as Starsky fell to his knees and took Hutch into his mouth. Wafted through their senses and buffeted Hutch’s moans as he filled Starsky’s throat. Held them close as Starsky rose and shared Hutch’s own taste with him. And carried Hutch’s name when Starsky cried out, one with Hutch, filling the welcoming darkness of Hutch’s body.

“Hutch, wake up, buddy. That’s a boy, come on.”

Starsky had awakened first, the breeze a bit stronger, the dampness of the ground chilling his skin not pressed to Hutch. The moon had moved–looks like an hour’s worth, must be after midnight by now–its silvery light now finding far corners of the garden. Reluctantly disengaging himself from the tangle of arms and legs that was Hutch, Starsky gathered himself upright, smiling down at the naked man who sprawled at his feet. A favorite view, Hutch sleepy and satisfied and his. Saying the words Starsky wanted to hear every day for the rest of his life.

“Hey, lover.”

“Hey, yourself. Look at us, Hutch. Falling asleep outside. Actin’ like a couple of kids, having sex in the grass…”

“Good sex…” Hutch casually stroked his palm down his own body, eyes never leaving Starsky’s face. Satisfied at the sigh he provoked, he added a languid stretch, arching his pelvis in Starsky’s direction, his penis lazy against his thigh.

“The best. Now knock it off, would ya please? Come here.”

Hutch allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, losing himself in Starsky’s arms, burying his face in his curls. You grew them back for me, didn’t you, babe? Because I said I missed them. Murmuring soft questions into his neck, already knowing the answers.

“That was more than making love for you, wasn’t it, David? What…?”

Starsky pulled back so that he could meet Hutch’s eyes. “A promise, blondie. To each other. And we always keep our promises to each other.” Starsky pecked at Hutch’s mouth, unsuccessfully willing his hands not to roam over the fair-skinned back beneath them, a total failure at ignoring the well-muscled ass. “Did you have to be so irresistible, huh?” And regretfully, “I have to get back, Hutch…come inside with me? I need a shower…”

“Sure do, Starsk, your knees are dirty.”

“Ass.”

“Hmm hmm. I’ll make coffee.”

Starsky emerged from the bedroom, showered and dressed in the clothing he had arrived in. Shirt half buttoned and untucked, barefoot. Hutch waited and watched from the kitchen, coffee made. Wrapped in an old robe he vaguely remembered belonging to Starsky, and in the second it took Starsky to cross the room, wrapped in Starsky’s arms. Starsky’s hair and skin smelled of Hutch’s shampoo and soap and Hutch wondered briefly how he would explain that if the question came up at home. Pulling back and running his hands under the soft blue shirt, he found whorls of damp curls dancing across Starsky’s chest, the skin beneath the hair still moist and warm from the shower. More than anything, Hutch wanted to forget the world and take Starsky again and hide in their loving. But he couldn’t, they couldn’t, not anymore. Hutch kissed him and slipped his hands from beneath Starsky’s shirt and busied himself pouring a mug of coffee. When he turned back, Starsky was leaning on both hands, propped against the counter. Hutch settled beside him, facing away, their shoulders touching.

“Starsk, we do need to talk. I think I’m correct in assuming Jeri hired the tail and that she isn’t going to just go away. I think we have to accept that I’ve hurt her and she’s royally pissed and poses a hell of a lot more than an idle threat. I was tailed for better than two hours, Starsk. All through Venice. Guy seemed to know where I would turn before I did. I finally ditched him at a gas station. Ducked out the back after bribing the attendant into returning my rental car for me. Took a cab home.” Hutch watched as a long fingered hand confiscated his coffee mug and raised it to perfect lips, half draining it before it was pressed back into his own hand. The familiarity, the intimacy of the simple act, warmed his heart and he found himself having to swallow hard before he could continue. “And Liz is going to hurt, too, babe, probably more than all of us. And…and the kids, babe, what are we going to do about your kids?”

Starsky leaned into Hutch at the mention of his kids, anchoring himself and drawing strength from the man pressed against his side. Hutch was right, Jeri was certainly a threat. To all of them. And what were they going to do about the kids? Kenny and Sarabet. His babies. And Liz. His wife. And the two of them. It was time.

“Hutch, listen to me for a minute, would ya? I’m tired of settling for an hour or two here and there, sneaking and lying and being afraid…it all makes what’s between us seem so fuckin’ cheap. Maybe in a convoluted kind of a way, this tail can help us. Be a catalyst in our moving forward. Again, like we did in Aspen.” Starsky smiled softly and kissed Hutch’s mouth before continuing. “I’ll call in tomorrow and after the kids are off, I’m going to tell Liz. Liz has been a good wife to me, Hutch. I haven’t been fair to her…it’s time I started. She deserves to hear it from me, not Jeri or anybody else. I love Liz, Hutch, but it’s you I love more than anyone else in the world. And I can say the same thing about our kids, that I love them more than anyone else in the world, because the love I hold for them is different from the love I hold for you. All of our kids, Hutch, yours, mine, Liz’s, Jeri’s.”

All of our kids, Hutch…yours... Hutch stiffened against him and Starsky waited until he felt the tension release before he continued, settling himself on the kitchen table, pulling Hutch between his knees. Caresses absentminded, he hooked his thumbs in Hutch’s robe pockets. “You know, Hutch, after Kenny was born, I didn’t think I could love anyone else as much as I loved him. I was actually afraid for my next child. But when Sara was placed in my arms…it was like magic, babe; my love just doubled. And when I’m blessed to hold your little blond wisp of a boy, my love will triple and so will yours. And that will happen, babe. You will hold your son. I promise. I won’t let it be any other way. And the one thing that will never happen, that we can never allow to happen, is for our babies to become pawns. Bargaining chips.

“Look, Hutch, I know it sounds like I’m makin’ a bad speech here, but I need you to know exactly where I stand…and I need to know exactly where you stand. That Jeri has a tail on us doesn’t surprise me one bit. I am a cop, remember? We’ve seen it, Hutch, anger and jealousy and people gettin’ hurt. All over love. Tearing people apart. We can’t let that happen to us, babe. No cracks in our united front. No matter what happens, we have to be together in our thinking, our decisions, our love. Together, Hutch.”

Hutch pulled Starsky to his feet, holding his face, running his thumbs along Starsky’s jawbone. “When did you get to be so smart, huh? I just got a little scared, you know? Jeri has an awful lot of legal power behind her, Starsk, and right now I don’t know how she plans on using it. She must have a reason for the tail and I’m nearly positive it has to do with proving me an unfit father because I’m gay. She made it perfectly clear that I’ll have no part in the baby’s life and she’s making sure that she holds all the cards. Starsk, Jeri could take this to Liz, what do…?”

Any further words were squelched by Starsky’s lips on his. “Stop, Hutch, don’t go makin’ trouble where we’re not sure there is any. We’ll deal with Jeri and the tail and I’ll talk to Liz. Trust me, would’ya?”

“Starsk…there’s no goin’ back once you’ve told Liz.”

“Quit bein’ so damned logical, would you, blondie? There’s been no goin’ back between us since the day we met. If we had been just a little brighter, we would have figured it out a long time ago. We’ve wasted some time already; let’s not waste anymore. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Starsky’s goodnight kiss was tender and full. A final tight hug and he grabbed his shoes and keys. Starsky paused at the door and started to speak but fell silent under Hutch’s gaze. The love he saw there ripe and full. Love and hope, his and Hutch’s dreams. All in his lover’s eyes.

“Hutch…”

“I know, David…I love you, too. Keep safe, call me in the morning.”

Starsky was gone with a nod of his head; on his way to what Hutch knew would be hell. Keep safe, Starsk, keep safe…

It was nearly two a.m. when Starsky turned onto his own street. Porch lights lined and lighted the way with one very notable exception. His own home loomed dark, no welcoming glow, nothing that said ‘you’re home’. He sat in his car for a few minutes, the total darkness creeping under his skin, prickling like a warning of what was to come. His home, so familiar a refuge, may as well have belonged to a stranger–its facade sterile and somehow sad. Letting himself in through the front door, he knew right away that it was indeed too late, that Liz already knew what he had planned to tell her later in the morning. Silence engulfed him and mocked him with its presence. All he felt was a growing emptiness as he walked slowly to the back of his house to his den. Once there, sorrow quickly wrapped itself around the silence. All of the photographs of his kids and Liz were gone, all of his children’s drawings removed, the absences jarring his very soul. Cleaning house, Liz? Anger flared, then gut-wrenching guilt. Do you blame her? Only the little framed picture of Hutch remained. His Hutch, smiling out at him with so much love and promise. Dammit! And here I was the one giving the speeches…my babies are gone…it hurts, Hutch…

Cradling Hutch’s image in his hand, he settled into his desk chair, spinning himself to face his desk, needing to call Hutch. And that’s when he found them. Dozens of pictures of himself and Hutch. Walking together, touching, entering hotels and Hutch’s new apartment. And on the bottom of the stack–because Liz couldn’t bear it–Hutch kissing him, their hands caressing one another, obviously lovers. Damn you, Jeri, why hurt Liz like this? Liz, I’m so sorry… And off to one side a note, in a feminine hand. I think you should know your husband is… Damn yourself, Starsky, you knew she would be hurt. Hutch was brave enough to tell Jeri, what the hell is the matter with you? Why did you let it come to this point?

The flashing message light on his answering machine beckoned and he hit the play button, dreading what he might hear. There were three messages. Liz identified herself in the first two, but that was as far as she got before breaking down in angry tears. The third message was left by his mother-in-law. Queenie’s voice sad, worried, and strangely accepting.

“David…Liz and the children are here with me and Jacob. Call me, David, words need to be said.”

Ignoring the time, Starsky dialed his in-laws’ number, not at all surprised when the phone was answered before the second ring. Queenie’s voice came over the line.

“David? David, is that you?”

“Queenie…Liz, the kids?”

“They’re here, David, the babies are asleep, Liz is…oh, David.”

Liz’s voice suddenly filled the background, making demands of her mother, drowning with pain and anger. Wanting the phone, spitting caustic remarks about Hutch, about Starsky. More tears, threats. He would never see his children again, never hold them. They would hate him. Starsky was crying now, too. And scared. Terrified that Liz could carry through with her threats. Because she was right. The courts would hold no sympathy for a cop turned gay and demanding his parental rights. He knew what Liz could do, knew the picture she could paint of two gay men exposing their society-damned lifestyle to young children. It wouldn’t even matter that they were his kids. Knew that she could make good on her hysterical threats to drag Kenny into the fight. Hutch and his namesake, the loving touches of an ‘uncle’ turned into something vile and repulsive.

“Queenie, please…”

But Liz wasn’t finished. She began to attack their relationship as husband and wife, making it filthy and perverse, dragging Hutch along for the ride.

“Elizabeth!” Starsky was startled from his tears by the roar of Queenie’s voice. “Elizabeth, stop now! Stop your threats and think of your children. David does not deserve what you are saying about him. Let him be for now. Be quiet and go lie down, I’ll be in in a minute.” Queenie’s voice gentled. “Go, love. I’ll be right there. Go.”

“David? You are all right?”

“No, Queenie, no, I’m not.” Starsky struggled to find the right words. “Queenie, I know how this will sound, but I was going to tell Liz today after the kids were off. Hutch–do I dare mention his name?–Hutch has been tailed, probably by his ex-girlfriend. The pictures…I didn’t know. Dammit, I’m so sorry, if I had just…”

“David? Your friend? Ken? You love him, David?”

Starsky’s response was immediate, firm, true.

“Yes, Queenie, I love him. I always have.”

“All right, David, all right, enough for now. Try and rest, son, we will talk again later. And yes, you needn’t ask me to. I will kiss the babies for you. Sleep, David.”

“Queenie? Please tell Liz…tell her I’m sorry…I…I didn’t want to hurt…”

“Rest now, David, tomorrow, we will talk tomorrow.”

The slimmest shadow of anger in his mother-in-law’s voice was enough to tell him how hurt Liz was. His beloved Queenie, always the peacemaker. The receiver clicked softly in his ear and Starsky allowed it to drop to his chest, holding it there until a dial tone came on reminding him to hang up. His mind darted in hundreds of places at once, his thoughts tripping over one another until there was nothing left but his emotions. Guilt, sadness and grief, anger, fear–they were all there, overwhelming him, pressing down on him as if they held physical weight. David Starsky was tired, weary down to his bones, drained by the events of the past hour. Laying his head on folded arms, he fell asleep at his desk. There were no dreams that night. Not of Hutch, not of his kids, not of Liz. Just emptiness and darkness.

The light had shifted in the room, waking him, morning sun splaying slatted shadows on the walls. It was the sweet early hours that, before today, had found his children waking, his wife making coffee, himself heading for the shower. Kenny peeking around the corner of the bathroom, waiting to be invited in for the morning ritual of the Starsky men. Bathroom, shower, dressed, and downstairs. A peck on the cheek from Liz, and a huge sloppy kiss from Sarabet. Kenny’s jelly-coated fingers reeking havoc with his shirtsleeves. Constants that were gone, that would never return, at least not here, not in this home. For that, his heart ached.

He reached blindly for the phone, punching in the most familiar of numbers. Hutch…help…

“Hutch…”

“Starsk? Hey, you okay?”

Relief at hearing Hutch’s voice made Starsky’s own voice shake, let his emotions catch up with him. Let Hutch know he needed him.

“Hutch… Hutch, they’re gone.”

“I’ll be right there, Starsk, hold on.”

Hutch debated with himself over the merits of discreetly parking a block or two away and walking–sneaking–to Starsky’s. Finally deciding the hell with it, he pulled up to the curb directly in front of the house. Starsky’s Volvo was in the driveway, the space alongside it empty. Did Liz come back? Park in the garage? Hutch studied the house for a few moments, cop instincts still sharp, watching for draperies to pull aside at the edges, for a face other than Starsky’s to peer through a window. The last thing Starsky needs right now is a confrontation between me and Liz. Nothing. He’s alone in there, alone and hurting. His eye caught a quick movement at the neighbor’s window and he wondered just how dramatic Liz’s departure had been.

The front door was unlocked and Hutch entered quietly, locking the door behind him. The house was still and silent, morning sun shining into empty spaces. He followed the layout of the rooms until he reached the back of the house where Starsky kept his den. Hutch didn’t have to enter the room to see the display of his relationship with Starsky spread out across Starsky’s desk. Jeri! Oh, damn you, Jeri. Starsky was there at the window, dressed in yesterday’s clothes, as still and silent as his home. Focused on nothing, seeing his whole world, arms once again wrapped protectively around his chest. He didn’t turn when Hutch called to him.

“Babe?” Hutch’s voice was soft, Starsky’s strained in response. The voice of a man weary with grief.

“She took the kids, Hutch. Took their pictures, even their drawings. You know Liz, always cleaning up after me.” Starsky chuckled sadly, rapping a knuckle on the windowpane. “She’s at her folks’ house… Queenie called. I could hear Liz in the background; guess she made sure that I could. She made a lot of threats, Hutch…my kids…you.” Starsky turned then, eyes bright with tears, the blue vivid and startling against bloodshot whites. “She’s hurting, Hutch, and I did it. Oh, Christ, my kids, what are my kids thinking?”

Hutch folded him into his arms, trying to comfort him, knowing he couldn’t. Can’t tell you it’s okay this time, Starsk, can’t say it’s not your fault, not mine. Starsky had hurt his family and Hutch accepted that he had been part of it, too. Two men considered to be highly honorable, heroes on many occasions. Commended over and over during the course of their police careers, dedicated to serving the public. Starsky now a police captain, Hutch a well thought of attorney, both still fighting for what was right.

How’d we manage to fuck everything up so badly, Starsk?

We’ve seen it, Hutch, people getting hurt, all over love…

Starsky sagged against him, his face buried in Hutch’s shoulder, his body shaking. Hutch could feel how tired he was, knew how close Starsky was to the edge. This is how he was before. Fear wrapped around his spine at the unwelcome memory of Starsky’s breakdown, at the distance Starsky had put between them after that. Oh, God, Starsk, stay with me this time, don’t let go. James Gunther had nearly succeeded in taking Starsky away from him. Starsky’s own frailty, his own humanness, did take him after that. His goal had been to get back on the streets, to be Hutch’s partner and he had made it. A year and more of agony and despair, surgeries and therapy, doubt and fear, and Starsky had triumphed. But the very streets he fought so hard to get back to had been his undoing. Gut-wrenching fear of taking another bullet, of losing Hutch to what had nearly taken him, had proved too much, had broken him. Hutch had held him then, too, but eventually Starsky had pushed him away and stayed away. And this morning was all too similar. Once before Starsky had sacrificed their partnership to save each of them. What would be sacrificed now?

“Starsk, hey, buddy, let’s get you over to the sofa, rest a bit, huh? I’m going to go upstairs and pack a bag for you and take you home with me. We’ll call Liz from there and let her know where you are and ask her to bring the kids back here. And then we’ll talk things over with Quentin. Come on, that’s it, come on, just sit here for a minute.”

Starsky was settled on the sofa and Hutch paused to consider whether or not his partner would be capable of living up to his own words. One thing to want me forever, Starsk, another to lose your kids over it. Are you still going to think I’m worth it when you miss your kids so badly you can’t stand it? He stood in the doorway and watched Starsky. Watched him bury his head in his hands, watched his shoulders sag as if defeated. Watched as he raised his head and looked around the room as if he had never seen it before.

Then Starsky’s eyes found Hutch and held on tight to what he did know.

“Hutch?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“I know what you’re thinkin’…don’t go there, Hutch. Because I love you enough to fight for you, too. No doubts. Not when it comes to you, Hutch.”

“Starsk…I know how much you love me…I know what you said…”

“And you’re the one who said there’s no going back, Hutch. And there isn’t. Liz knows. Her parents know. My kids are feeling God knows what. It’s one big, shitty mess right now. I know that. And it’ll get a helluva lot worse before it gets better, guess we both know that…but you know what else? I’m ready, Hutch. Come here a second, would’ya?”

Hutch took the hands that reached for his, Starsky drawing one to his face, kissing Hutch’s knuckles first, then his mouth and eyes. Drawing Hutch close beside him, breathing him in, feeling the body he knew as his own. This was where his strength lay. In this man whom he had chosen and had been chosen by. Giving another kiss, he cupped Hutch’s face in his hands and managed a smile.

“Together, Hutch. Every step of the way.” Pressing his cheek to Hutch’s, Starsky felt soft breaths against the side of his face, tracing his ear, warming his neck. I know your breaths like I know your voice. God, I love you, Hutch. Finally pulling back with a kiss to Hutch’s nose, Starsky left the sofa, pulling Hutch up and turning him toward the hallway.

“Go on upstairs and pack for me? I have a few things down here that I’ll need, too.”

Hutch nodded his agreement and started to move, but Starsky stopped him one more time, snagging his belt with a finger, closing in behind him to wrap Hutch in his arms.

“This is our beginning, blondie, not quite how we wanted it to come about, but our beginning.” A quick kiss between Hutch’s shoulder blades and Starsky shoved him off.

“Get movin’, would you please? Sure are pokey.”

Hutch didn’t turn around, but the smile felt good. Our beginning.

Hutch found his way upstairs to gather Starsky’s belongings. Four doors opened from the hallway at the top of the steps and quick peeks revealed little girl pink and little boy primary bedrooms, a neutral guest room, and at the end of the hall, a navy and cream master suite. Being in Starsky and Liz’s bedroom made him uncomfortable–if ever there was a place I didn’t belong, this is it--and Hutch found himself longing for the simple confines of his and Starsky’s bachelor apartments. I would have loved loving you there too, babe, if we had only known. He moved about quickly, finding Starsky’s old Academy gym bag, packing enough clothing for several days, Starsky’s personal items from the bath, and from the dresser Starsky shared with Liz, a lone picture of the kids Liz had missed and left behind. An informal wedding portrait also sat on the dresser top, Starsky and Liz in each other’s arms. You were happy, Starsk, you and Liz…you were, back then. Turning from the picture brought the bed back into view and Hutch, feeling surrounded by memories that weren’t his, bolted from the room.

Back downstairs, he found Starsky packing up a box of files from his desk. Starsky’s face had changed in the minutes Hutch had been upstairs. The exhausted grief had been tucked away and new energy had surfaced. Hutch knew this Starsky well, recognized his expression from years of simply knowing Starsky. This was the face Starsky wore when he was going undercover, hiding himself, keeping it all in check. This was Starsky getting ready to face the bad guys, to charge into battle with Hutch at his back. The world outside his house would not be privy to the emotional turmoil that Hutch had just witnessed. Hutch watched as Starsky packed up the photos and note that had arrived courtesy of Jeri, watched the anger that rippled through his facial muscles vanish within seconds, Starsky’s expression once again tightly controlled, softening and opening only when he heard Hutch’s voice.

“Starsk? Anything else I can get for you?”

“No…nope, almost done, Hutch. Need these files for work and I want to grab my cameras and these…” Starsky was unlocking the highest of his filing cabinet drawers.

Hutch was surprised to see the contents. Starsky’s Beretta and his own Magnum, complete with their old shoulder harnesses. Starsky grinned sheepishly at Hutch’s questioning look.

“I, ummm, borrowed these from the supply room after I came back to the force…after my breakdown. Bigelow never suspected a thing, Hutch, I just slid over the counter while he was looking for something Minnie made up a fake request for, grabbed ’em, and took off. Didn’t seem right that they not be ours. Took Minnie out to lunch, came back to find Biggie trying to explain to the duty sergeant how he managed to lose two handguns–Biggie must have noticed they were gone right after I took ’em and of course being Biggie, reported them missing himself. Minnie and I had to hide in the janitor’s closet, we were laughing so hard.” Starsky looked at the floor, the face he turned to Hutch quiet and shy. “I had to have them, Hutch, they were such a big part of us.”

Hutch stood in the doorway and smiled at the image of Starsky and Minnie, co-conspirators in theft. Starsky was right. The guns had been a big part of their lives together as cops. The familiar weight that rested against each of their sides, the sound each identified with every firing. Power and protection. Hutch had turned his weapon in upon leaving the force and Starsky now carried a much smaller and sleeker weapon in a belt holster. When did you give up the Beretta, Starsk? Was it… Oh, Starsk…

“Starsky. Did you turn the Beretta in when I turned in the Magnum?”

Starsky didn’t answer, not right away. Just locked his eyes on Hutch. When he finally found the words, his voice was quiet, but filled with conviction.

“Had to, Hutch. Our weapons were part of what we were…what we still are. Didn’t want one without the other. You know, part of me and…”

“Thee, Starsk. Me and Thee. You know something? You’re absolutely right, some things in life belong together.” That statement earned Hutch a smile. “Maybe I should apply for a license to carry, huh? Never know, we could end up working together, take on the world again, jump in a few holes…”

Hutch’s voice trailed off and the two men were quiet for a few moments, remembering, missing, wanting that time back. That liquid time that had slipped through their fingers, splashed on the ground and been sucked dry by the criminals and filth and fear on the streets. The same liquid time that bubbled back up around them, fueled by friendship and faith and trust, floating them on its crest, always carrying them together. Liquid time that healed and soothed and held them in its depths, washing them clean.

The blare of a horn from the street brought them back around. Wordlessly, Starsky finished his packing while Hutch started the process of loading the cars. They still didn’t speak, just let each of their movements answer the other’s. A final slam of the trunk and Hutch dusted off his hands and headed back for Starsky. He found him sitting on the bottom step of the staircase, knees drawn up, hands hanging between them, fiddling with a tiny toy car. Oh, Starsk, hurts, doesn’t it? Hutch sat himself down next to his lover and waited for Starsky to tell him.

“I thought this would be easier, Hutch. Somehow I thought Liz and I would be friends, you know? Parent together, share the kids, still like each other. I…I feel so out of control right now. And I hate feeling that Liz hates me, much as I can’t blame her.”

Starsky leaned into Hutch’s side and for a minute they were back in that time gone by, sitting together on a sofa, or side by side at an interrogation table, or in Starsky’s Torino. Laying out the problem in a few sentences and waiting for the other to offer his ideas, going back and forth, working things out, finding the answers.

“Starsk, listen to me for a minute, buddy. I think that right now, all Liz can feel is hate. She needs time…she’s going to need a lot of time and a lot of help coming to terms with what’s happened. And I promise that you and I will do everything we can for her and the kids. It’s gonna be hell for a while, Starsk, we already know that. Don’t give up hope, babe, it’s not your style. Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

Hutch stood and offered a hand that was readily accepted. Pulling Starsky into his arms, he held on tight for a moment. He had offered help and hope, the word ‘together’ not spoken aloud, but there in every promise. He was waiting for Starsky now. It was Starsky’s turn to make the next move in the back and forth. He answered with soft lips against Hutch’s and a whisper.

“I love you, Hutch. Let’s go, blondie. You’re right, we do have a lot of work to do. Together.”

Starsky locked the front door behind him, pushing his key into his jeans pocket. Reaching into another pocket, he pulled out two shiny quarters. Hutch watched in curious silence as Starsky tucked the coins behind a flowerpot on the porch. The eyes that met Hutch’s when Starsky straightened up were sad and sparkly at the same time and a memory of Starsky telling him how his dad always left quarters for Starsky and his brother under a flower pot when long cop hours kept them apart, surfaced and drifted through Hutch’s mind. Starsky was doing the same for his kids. So they would know he was there.

“I’m ready now, Hutch, let’s go.”

Hutch took the drive to the apartment provided him by Quentin Cohen as slowly as he possibly could. Almost ashamed of the relief he felt after leaving Starsky’s home, he needed some time to himself, needed to get his thoughts together, and wanted Starsky to have the same. Starsky was so absolutely right. It should have been easier and it would only get harder. Quentin would surely help them on the legal end–not too much, Quentin, don’t think we’re up to being the poster boys for gay dads’ rights…but I guess I better face it, we may well be just that–and he and Starsky would have each other to draw upon, like they always had. Dobey used to tell us we were each other’s strength and weakness all tied up in one package. Guess there was never another time when that was more true than now. Stopped at a traffic light, he looked up at his rearview mirror and caught Starsky’s eyes with his own. The familiar smile was immediate, emanating from Starsky’s eyes as much as from his lips. We’ll be okay, blintz. A nod of Starsky’s head, a lift to his eyebrows. Light’s green, let’s go…

Quentin’s companion and secretary, Grace Wesson, was outside, watering a bed of the hundreds of hibiscus plants that adorned the street named for them. She watched Hutch pull into the part of the drive allotted to his apartment and the Volvo sedan that followed him park street side at the curb. Hutch trotted over to the Volvo and waited for its occupant to exit. Ah, I thought so. She had met David Starsky on several occasions, had watched his kids and delighted in doing so. Quentin hadn’t told her and neither had Ken, not in so many words anyway, but she had her suspicions about David Starsky and Ken. That Starsky was the married lover Ken professed to having. And it was David Starsky who got out of the Volvo and David Starsky whom Ken was taking into his arms, talking to in low tones Grace couldn’t quite make out. She watched as Ken reached around Starsky and punched the button that released the Volvo’s trunk latch. A duffle bag, a couple of briefcases, assorted camera bags, and a garment bag were pulled out and the two men started up the drive toward Hutch’s private entrance. There seemed to be a sadness about them and Grace elected to move quietly to the side of the house. Quentin would fill her in when the time came, for now she respected their privacy. But it won’t hurt to let Quentin know they’re here.

Hutch finished stowing away Starsky’s clothing in the bedroom closet, privately enjoying every moment of hanging Starsky’s shirts next to his and folding his skimpy excuses for underwear into the drawer beside his own–how do you fit so much of you, into so little of these? The picture of Starsky’s kids found a new home on the fireplace mantle. Okay, Starsk, you’re home… Starsky was at the window, looking out where he and Hutch had made love the night before.

“Starsk? Hey, why don’t you take a shower, huh? I have a phone call to make and then I’ll get some breakfast together.” Starsky didn’t respond and Hutch called to him. “Starsk? You okay, babe?”

Starsky turned, but the sadness Hutch anticipated didn’t fully appear. It was there in Starsky’s eyes, but sharing space with wonderment and anticipation. The precious face was wistful, lips turned in a small smile. “How do you ‘spose it is, Hutch, that I can feel so guilty and sad, but so incredibly happy at the same time?”

Hutch gathered Starsky into his arms, filling his fingers with Starsky’s curls and the warm softness of his shirt. His lips found Starsky’s, and he thoroughly kissed them and the mouth beyond before answering.

“I can only tell you why I’m incredibly happy. I’m here, holding you, my beloved David. I never want to be anywhere else. I’m hurting with you, babe, but my heart is so full. Full of you.” Another kiss was soundly delivered and eagerly returned. “Now, you go get that shower.” Starsky groaned when Hutch pulled away, but he went, leaving Hutch smiling at the grumbled comments about soapy scenes and cold showers that followed Starsky from the room. Hutch waited until he heard the shower running before he punched in Jeri Eastman’s home phone number. He cut off her hello.

“Jeri? This is Ken… What the hell do you mean how am I? You hurt someone very close to me and you want to know how I am? Why don’t you ask me how Starsky’s wife and children are feeling this morning? You know damn well what I’m talking about! Your fucking private dick! Why the hell did you…” Hutch glared at his ceiling, his grip threatening to snap the telephone receiver in half as he forced himself to listen to Jeri’s voice.

“Jeri…Jeri, that’s crazy. PI’s don’t work that way… Why? Okay, okay, go ahead, I’ll listen.” Hutch paced as far as the phone cord would allow him to as he listened to Jeri speak. Disbelief colored his features as he sank onto the sofa, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. “Let me get this straight. You’re saying he sent them to make sure I was out of your life? To force Liz to divorce Starsky so he would be free for me? Come on, Jeri, that’s ridiculous, sounds like a fucking soap opera! The man has to be thirty years older than you, and you are very pregnant with my baby. What does he..?

“Yes, yes, Jeri, I did fall in love with you, too. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest nobody else could. I’m sorry…. Hormones, huh? Guess I don’t have that excuse… You’re right there. Wouldn’t be the first time someone called me an ass.” Hutch chuckled at Jeri’s next words. “Oh yeah, especially Starsky.”

Hutch and Jeri both grew quiet, the silence eventually becoming uncomfortable. Finally, Hutch spoke again. “Jeri, maybe I don’t have the right to ask, but considering what this guy seems to be up to, well, maybe the two of us need to get together, talk things over? I…I don’t want to be enemies. Okay, okay, Jeri… Please, I don’t mean to upset you again… Listen, at the very least, let Starsky and me talk to this guy… Well, you know, Starsky can be very persuasive… No, no, but if he’s coming on to you like that, I think it best that you fire the man and get a restraining order to keep him away. You have fired him? Good…good. Your father? Sure, keep your father’s firm out of it if you want to, I can handle the papers for you, I’ll take care of it today. John Haddon? Name sounds familiar. Let me write that down…address? All right, call me the end of the week and we’ll talk again. Yeah… Hey, are you feeling okay? Time’s almost here, isn’t it? Will you…? Thank you, Jeri. Need anything? Sure, let me know. Bye, Jeri.”

Hutch hadn’t heard the shower being turned off. He was startled by the sound of Starsky clearing his throat and announcing his presence. Starsky leaning against the doorframe, bare chested, towel around his shoulders, jeans unsnapped and zipped only halfway. Jesus, Starsk…

“Hutch? Got a little loud there, buddy. Everything okay?” Hutch was looking at Starsky, but didn’t answer. Thoughts definitely elsewhere. Mesmerized. “Hutch, hey, where are you?”

Where am I? Right here, Starsk, staring at the hair on your chest and belly and in the opening at your zipper. “Everything’s fine, Starsk…just talking to Jeri…” Hutch’s words trailed off. Does he have any idea what he’s doing to me?

“Hutch? Everything’s fine? You sure? Want to tell me what she said?”

“Hmmm? About what, Starsk?” He knows, he has to…what did he just ask me?

Starsky gave up and his laugh was low and sensual. “Hutch, come here.” He looped his wet towel on the doorknob and held his hand out to Hutch. “Come on, I want to tell you something.” Starsky settled Hutch in his arms, his kisses tasting of toothpaste, his scent the familiar sandalwood Hutch found so intoxicating. “Love? Before we talk about that phone call, before we talk to Quentin, before we call Liz?” Starsky growled his desires. “I want you, Hutch. I want to take you into the bedroom and strip you and fuck you. I need you like crazy, Hutch, now…please…let me…”

Hutch answered with his lips and mouth and tongue, kissing Starsky hard–as hard as the erection pressing into his groin. As hard as the nipples that came to life with his sucking. This was his Starsky, soft and hard and silky and coarse and he wanted him, needed Starsky, as much as Starsky wanted and needed him. Love, release, escape, affirmation–probably all four–making up the bed they were so desperate to lie upon. Hutch pulled back, making space for his hand to slide between their bodies, fingers sharing space with his tongue at Starsky’s nipples, carding through chest and belly hair, tangling in the wiry pubic hair that bunched at Starsky’s zipper. Both of them gasping when Hutch’s fingers circled the hard root of Starsky’s cock, easing its length upward, free from the denim of Starsky’s jeans. Starsky’s forehead fell against Hutch’s shoulder, eyes glued on the fingers playing his cock, breath coming in short gasps against Hutch’s shirt. Hutch pulled his fingers along Starsky’s length, feeling the skin beneath them slide over hardness and heat, finding the lip of the head and the wetness of pre-cum, and within his own body, desire stirred and he wanted Starsky there, deep inside of him.

“Starsk…bedroom…what you said, Starsk. God, I need you, too, David, now…please.”

Starsky chuckled against Hutch’s mouth. His Hutch, all flustered and wanting. He reached down and surrounded Hutch’s hand with his own, pumping a few strokes together before pulling Hutch’s fingers away. Starsky was out of his jeans before Hutch could get his bearings and pressing his nakedness against the length of Hutch’s body, steered him backward to the bed, stopping to undress him, savoring each stretch of fair skin as it was unveiled to him.

“I’m gonna bury myself in you, Hutch. Tell me what you want, babe……you wanna come with me, all over my hand? Want me to take you first, drink you down my throat? Tell me, Hutch, tell me now.”

“Wi…with you, Starsk, here in our home…you and me…damn you, David, don’t make me wait! I want you more than I ever have…please, I…”

Starsky shushed his lover, filling Hutch’s mouth with his tongue, riding the surfaces of Hutch’s lips and teeth, pulling Hutch into his own mouth. Starsky’s movements were tender but urgent, both of them so close to coming, so wanting to. Hutch was caressed and positioned, his unmade bed welcoming and soft beneath his knees and elbows, face buried in his pillows. Starsky held him for a minute, warming Hutch’s back and bottom with his own body, synchronizing their breathing and heartbeats. Taking the heat from Hutch’s erection into his palm, soothing the taut scrotum with gently kneading hands. Slipping slick fingers into Hutch’s tight center until the muscle there loosened and he knew his cock would be welcomed. Taking Hutch slowly until there was no more to be taken and his belly and thighs pressed to Hutch’s body. And the synchronicity of their breaths and heartbeats repeated in the rhythm of their loving, becoming rapid and forceful until Hutch did indeed coat Starsky’s hand with his cum as Starsky erupted deep within him. Coming together, being together, a promise of forever to each other.

Hutch stayed on his knees long after Starsky had pulled out of his body. Starsky wrapped his arms around Hutch’s middle and held on tightly, burying his face in Hutch’s back, spilling tears that ran down Hutch’s sides and mingled with the wetness he had left on his own belly and Starsky’s hand. Let it out, babe, it’s okay, I know, I know. When Starsky lifted his head and pressed his lips between Hutch’s shoulder blades, Hutch lowered them both to the bed, relishing Starsky’s weight, and from the stirrings he felt low on one ass cheek, wondering if they were in for a second act.

“Starsk, let me turn over? I want to hold you…see your face.”

Starsky slid off to one side and Hutch turned onto his back, pulling his lover alongside him, pillowing Starsky’s head on his shoulder, taking joy in Starsky’s upper leg finding its place across his groin and Starsky’s palm resting on the plane of his chest. He pressed his lips to Starsky’s forehead, pushing a little, getting his man to look up at him. Sharing a smile and a few soft kisses. Starsky’s penis was at his hip now, filling, nearly hard, and his own, trapped beneath the warmth of Starsky’s thigh, responded in kind. Starsky raised one questioning eyebrow and pinched hard at the nipple hiding under his hand. Hutch muttered something–a lot of somethings–calling Starsky dirty names and pulling him on top of his body, parting his legs and nestling Starsky between them. Their climaxes came swiftly, cocks held together by Hutch’s large hand and the pressing weight of their bodies. Starsky’s mouth open against Hutch’s throat, hands filled with fistfuls of linen. Hutch’s free hand roaming Starsky’s back and ass, feeling the flush of goosebumps that broke out as Starsky came, soothing until they disappeared.

“Starsk? Think you can move?”

“Nope.”

“You know we have to.”

“Yeah. But what I know and what I’m capable of are two different things. You first, blondie.”

Hutch rolled Starsky onto his back and sat on him. Fingers found ribs and hipbones and ticklish sides and Starsky laughed and pushed his lover away.

“‘Kay, you win. Think I need another shower…know you do. Come on, I’ll wash your hair.”

Starsky had washed Hutch’s hair dozens of times out of care and necessity. You know that was lovin’, too, don’t you, babe? Showered together in countless locker rooms and as new lovers, but never had it been as sweet as this. There was a permanence now that hadn’t been there before, something settled between them. You noticing all the new firsts, too, Hutch? Two bottles of shampoo, two washcloths, four feet, two sets of everything else…ass just a little higher than mine, perfect for…

“Starsk! Hey, the water’s getting cold…come on, you about ready to get out?” Hutch turned his head and found a mesmerized Starsky intently studying something out of his own line of vision. “Starsk, where are you?” Teasing. “What’s keeping you warm, babe?” Hutch reached behind him to find a semi-hard cock. “What are you looking at back there? Hey!” A quick squeeze to Starsky’s penis got Starsky’s attention and he sought revenge against Hutch the first way that came to mind. A swift shove under the now cold water. Grinning at the sounds of Hutch’s gasps and colorful descriptions of just what he planned to do to Starsky when he least expected it, Starsky left Hutch alone under the spray. Starsky wrapped himself in a towel and putting on his best ‘who me?’ face, held one out for the now shivering Hutch, all the while scolding him for his bad language. He wrapped the long, pale body snugly, using the tails of his own towel to dry his lover.

Finally dry and warm, Starsky patted the vanity top. “Come on over here, Hutch, I want to shave you.”

“Starsk…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll leave the broom, kind of like the way it feels, ya know. Come on, babe, I won’t bite. Promise.” Ten minutes later, Starsky had finished and Hutch was almost asleep. Gently wiping the last remains of cream from Hutch’s face, Starsky spoke quietly to his lover.

“Hutch, you fallin’ asleep on me, babe? Hutch?” Starsky nudged Hutch’s knees apart and leaned in close. “Come on, blintz, wake up, we have things to talk about.”

“M’right here, Starsk. You wear me out, babe. Do that for me every day?” Hutch’s head found Starsky’s shoulder as Starsky’s hands found Hutch’s back.

“Make love, shower, shave? That what you want everyday, Hutch?”

“Only and always with you, David.” Hutch kissed his lover and held him until Starsky pulled back and tugged Hutch down from the counter, turning him to look in the mirror, their faces side by side.

“You have any idea how much I love you, Hutch?”

“Yes.”

Starsky smiled at the simple, all encompassing answer. “Don’t think I’ll ever be able to keep my hands offa’ you. Here our lives are spinnin’ all over the place and all I want to do is take you to bed. Hutch? I want to thank you.”

Hutch’s eyebrows asked why.

“For giving me the last hour, letting me forget about all the hurt and pain.” Troubled realization spread across Starsky’s face as he listened to his own words. “Aww, Hutch, makes it sound like I was using you, babe…I wasn’t…I needed you like nobody’s business, needed to know you needed me too…I’d never, Hutch…love you so much…”

“Starsk, Starsk…of course I needed you, too. I always will. We can’t hurt all the time, love…I won’t let us. Now come on, let’s get dressed, and I’ll tell you about Jeri.”

“Looks like we have a little added trouble, babe. Jeri didn’t send the pictures to Liz. Her PI did. Seems the guy has fallen in love with Jeri and wants to make certain that I’m out of the picture. Figured Liz would divorce you…”

“You mean to tell me that that lousy prick hurt Liz and my kids so he… Who is he, Hutch?”

Starsky’s voice was level, but Hutch could hear the danger, feel how angry Starsky was.

“Starsk, listen to me, buddy. You are not going to go near the guy. Understand me? I’m going to take care of him, nice and legal. He won’t go near Jeri and he won’t go near Liz..”

Starsky glared at his lover, glared until he realized Hutch wasn’t about to back down. Still, he gave it one more shot.

“Hutch…”

“No, Starsk, no. Remember all that stuff you said about people getting hurt over love? It all comes back to us, babe. As lousy and shitty as it may sound, we started this, and Jeri’s PI is just an offshoot we have to deal with. You let me deal with him. Promise me, Starsk.”

Starsky’s mind went into overdrive trying to think of an argument that would best Hutch’s. Hutch waited patiently, watching his lover’s hands lift and fall back, listening to him start to speak and fall quiet, finally sitting on the sofa and holding out his hand, inviting Starsky to join him.

“Come on, Starsk, let it go.”

“All right, Hutch, I promise.” A sad smile. “Maybe someday I can give him a bloody nose, huh? You’re right…if I hadn’t…”

“We, love, if we hadn’t. Hey listen, there was some good news. Jeri is going to let me know when the baby arrives…I think maybe she’s going to at least let me see him.”

“That’s terrific, babe. Oh, Hutch, that’d be so great. She will, Hutch, I know she will. There’s just something that happens when two people are having a baby together–she’ll need you to be there for her.”

Hutch said his next words into Starsky’s curls, holding him close, knowing what was about to come would hurt him.

“Hey, Starsk? You need to call Liz now.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Starsky sighed and grabbed the phone from the table next to the sofa, balancing it against his chest. “Stay here by me, Hutch? I need you.”

“Wouldn’t be anywhere else, Starsk. I’m right here.”

Hutch sat close beside him, pressing his knee against Starsky’s. Liz answered.

“Liz, it’s me… I’m sorry, Liz, I didn’t mean for you to find out that way. Liz, please… Okay, okay, I understand… Glenn? Yeah, I remember him… You know the house is yours, Liz, bring the kids home, please, they should be in their own beds… No, honey, I won’t be there…” Starsky made a strangled sound, choking on whatever it was that Liz was saying, his face going white. “Liz…Liz, stop it! That’s not true and you know it… All right, all right, I’ll listen, go ahead.” Hutch felt more of Starsky press close to him, the whole length of his body begging for support, starting to tremble. “Liz…no…I’m not…. Don’t say that to me…” Starsky jumped when Liz slammed the phone down on her end, his body curling forward, wrapping around the telephone he hugged to his chest. He mumbled something about being sick and a minute later Hutch heard him vomiting in the bathroom.

What the hell did she say to him? Hutch watched from the bathroom doorway as Starsky splashed cold water on his face. Waited while he channeled his emotions to the tiled surface of the vanity through white-knuckled fists, Waited until Starsky looked up at him in the mirror. The eyes that met Hutch’s were haunted and dark with terror. Eyes Hutch had seen only once before. He knew the answer to his question before he asked it. No, Liz, why?

“Starsk? Hey, buddy, what is it? Can you tell me?”

“Liz…she said I was having another breakdown…because of you…because I love you.” Starsky choked on his own words. “Hutch? Hutch, I’m not…am I, Hutch?”

“No! No, love, you’re not. Listen to me, Starsk, I promise you, you are not having another breakdown. Aww, shit, Starsk, this is all part of the hurting game. Liz can’t help it, she’s gonna push any button she can to hurt you. Just keep in mind that you know how hurt she is. It’s the pain talking, Starsk. Liz needs time…I know what she said scared you, but please, listen to me. You are not having another breakdown. A hard time, a lot of very human emotions, but not a breakdown. Okay? Starsk?”

Hutch turned Starsky away from the mirror and held him, watching the reflection of his hands as they rubbed the slumping shoulders and tangled in Starsky’s hair. Didn’t take much to bring him down, bring that horror back to the surface. Damn, oh, God dammit… Hutch had made it to Starsky’s apartment before the paramedics, but not before the cops he found restraining his partner, literally sitting on his body to subdue him. Starsky had been mad in the most awful sense of the word, writhing and screaming, mouth foaming, eyes unfocused. His Beretta had been kicked aside, way out of his reach, but he was fighting hard to get to it, demanding someone give it to him, give him one more chance with the final bullet. Begging to die. His agonized words still haunted Hutch’s soul. I can’t let it be too late for Hutch…let me die before it’s too late for Hutch! It was Hutch who calmed him, held him as he held him now, soothed with words in the only voice Starsky could hear. Hutch who persuaded him to check himself into the hospital for long-overdue help. The euphoric comeback after Gunther’s assassination attempt had been a Band-Aid–a few close calls, seeing Hutch in grave danger, finding himself scared shitless at the mere sound of gunfire–and Starsky had snapped. Wanting to die rather than risk his partner, his troubled mind unable to see any other solution.

Starsky had been away from the force for a month, and when he returned, their lives became a whirlwind of good and bad. Many, many strings had been pulled, favors called in, and Starsky was Captain Starsky. Grandfathered in under obscure contract clauses and ensconced in the position held by their own former captain. Hutch had fought with him, dead set against Starsky staying a cop. He had begged Starsky to quit, join him in some other venture, all the while watching their relationship being chipped away. Starsky was stubborn, arguing that being a cop was in his blood, that he would be safe off the streets. And in the end it was Hutch who left. Starsky didn’t need a partner as a captain. And Hutch didn’t want any other; there would only ever be one for him. Starsky married Liz just before Hutch resigned and then the babies came and the distance between them continued to grow. Until that day half a year ago when they had turned their lives inside out. When their love for each other started the hurting.

“Starsk, you okay now?”

Hutch watched the shoulders in the mirror straighten, watched long fingers work their way through hair from forehead to neck, meeting his own along the way and taking hold.

“That was a bad time, Hutch, hurts a lot to think about it, scares the crap out of me, really, but, yeah, I’m okay now. I know you’re right about Liz, about the pain talkin’ and all. I’ll call her again after we talk to Quentin, maybe Queenie will talk to me.” Starsky’s tone took on quiet hope. “Maybe I can talk to my kids. I need that, to talk to them.” Starsky stood quietly for a minute, thinking about his kids, wondering what they were doing. Watching cartoons and bugging Jacob for a boat ride, most likely. Wonder if they miss me. A huge yawn pushed his thoughts from his head, Hutch sympathizing, involuntarily following suit. Starsky smiled at him. “Feels like it should be midnight, doesn’t it, Hutch? Been a long day already. Well. Come on, babe, let’s go see Quentin. Afraid I’m gonna need lots of help from him.”

Starsky followed Hutch down the short hallway that connected Hutch’s private quarters with Quentin Cohen’s main house. Grace was in the kitchen, stirring something fragrant on the enormous old cook top. She greeted the two men warmly–she and Quentin were both quite fond of Ken Hutchinson and it was terribly obvious to both of them that David Starsky made Ken happy. And it was just as obvious that David was a married man. He brought his children to visit, talk of their ‘mommy’ flowing through conversations with their dad and Ken, and with Grace and Quentin, too. Always upbeat and positive, totally in love with his kids, Starsky was an easy man to like, and combined with Ken, that much better. Directing Ken to the coffee pot with a wave of her chef’s spoon, Grace took the opportunity to study Starsky. Trouble, this man is in trouble. Starsky’s eyes followed Hutch and with the exception of returning her greeting, he was uncharacteristically quiet and studiously avoided looking at her. Grace Wesson put a great deal of credence in reading peoples’ eyes, a credence well cultured by her relationship with Quentin Cohen. Always look them in the eye, Gracie, that’s where the answers are. When Hutch took his place at Starsky’s side, Starsky finally looked at her. Oh, David, what’s happened? His eyes dropped immediately to the floor, but not before Grace saw the apprehension and guilt they carried.

“Quentin have any free time this morning, Grace? Starsky and I need to speak with him. Business, not pleasure, Grace.”

Hutch’s demeanor was cool and professional, a strong counterpart to Starsky’s, and Grace wondered if he wasn’t purposely hiding his own emotions, being strong to support his partner. What was that you called it, Ken, when you told us all those stories about you and David? Watching each other’s backs? As detached as Hutch was, Starsky’s feelings seemed just barely under the surface. Nervous fidgeting was now edging out his determined examination of the kitchen floor, as if Hutch’s request to see Quentin had flipped a switch. Hutch saw it too, the tiny motions of fingers and chewing at his lower lip, and settled his partner with a touch and the speaking of his name. Grace had to look away, the pure trust that passed from one man to the other too private, too intimate to intrude upon.

Grace had already cleared time on Quentin’s day planner and beckoned the two to follow her into Quentin’s office. Hutch questioned with raised brows, Grace answering the query with her own raised brows. Woman’s intuition, Ken, I knew you two would be asking for Quentin…I saw…

“Quentin is waiting for you, Ken. He’ll help, it’ll be okay.” Whispered words and a squeeze to Hutch’s arm and Grace quietly closed the door behind them as Quentin Cohen rose to greet them.

“David, good to see you again. Come in, have a seat. Ken…”

Quentin settled back behind his desk and regarded the men before him. Both serious, faces closed and tense. Both holding on tight to the arms of their chairs–chairs nudged closer to each other before either man sat, in a movement so smooth and practiced that it confirmed what Quentin suspected was natural between them. Ahh, so Grace was right after all. This is your married lover. David Starsky. Captain David Starsky, father of two. Better get started–looks like this could be a rough one.

“What can I do for you, David…Ken?”

Hutch started to speak, but was silenced by the weight of Starsky’s hand pressing over his.

“I need some advice, Quentin. And I need a good lawyer willing to handle what I’m afraid will be a very difficult divorce. My divorce.” By the time he reached the end of his last sentence, Starsky had his eyes back on Hutch and the hand he had laid over Hutch’s was holding on for dear life. “You see, Hutch and I are in love, always have been, really, just took us some time to realize what kind of love we have.” Starsky leveled his gaze back on Quentin. “This isn’t a phase or a mid-life crisis, Quentin. I want to spend the rest of my life with Hutch. What I’ve done to my family stinks, but I can’t undo it. I want to make sure my wife and my kids are provided for…whatever she wants financially…the house, car, money…all of it. The only thing I will insist on fighting for is my kids. I have to have my children in my life.”

Quentin peered over the top of his bifocals, tapping a pencil against the legal pad on his desk. Starsky watched intently as he started to write and even upside down he could make out the words: Starsky v Starsky. A few slashes of the pencil and Starsky saw his life divided. His column and Liz’s. Impersonal and to the point. Visitation for him. Alimony and child support for Liz.

“All right, all right, David…Ken. You’re right, of course, this divorce will get very, as you said, David, difficult. Let me make something clear to you before we continue. I wouldn’t dream of dismissing your relationship as a phase or crisis.” Quentin smiled at them. “Ken doesn’t do phases, and he’s quite good in a crisis. I’ve watched the two of you together; I don’t need to see displays of affection between you to see how you feel about one another. It’s obvious. And it’s just as obvious that you both love David’s children. As hard as it is to have to tell you this, the kids will present the most difficult challenge in your proceedings. I am not exactly a divorce attorney, but I can tell you unequivocally that Mrs. Starsky will be awarded full custody and depending upon her desires and the judge we draw, your children may be denied to you altogether until they are of legal age.” Starsky found something interesting to stare at over Quentin’s shoulder, fighting hard to keep what was in his gut where it belonged. “Our legal system picks and chooses where it wishes to remain archaic, even here in our somewhat progressive state of California. It frowns heavily upon gay relationships, gentlemen…that you or I are accepting does not matter. Perhaps the issues of alimony and child support, property settlement, and division of assets will give us some leverage…”

Hutch held up the palm of one hand, stopping Quentin. Starsky’s hand in his had gone ice cold, each degree dropped measured by Quentin’s words. Full custody, denied, legal age… Oh, buddy, hold on, I know it hurts…

“No, Quentin. With all due respect to you and our fucked up legal system, you’re not telling us anything we don’t already know. We know what we’re up against, but Starsky and I have already agreed. The children will not be bargaining chips. We love them, Quentin, and will not allow them to be hurt any more than they already may have been. Look…all we know right now is that the kids and Liz are with Liz’s parents, we don’t know what they’ve been told…or what they’ve overheard. Liz Starsky is having an understandably hard time with this. She was informed of our relationship by an outsider–a private investigator hired by Jeri Eastman. He sent her pictures and a forged note–and she’s taken the kids away to her parents’ home. Starsky called there just before we came to see you. It…it didn’t go well.”

Quentin watched as Hutch gave Starsky’s hand a shake. Starsky had shifted his gaze to his lap, listening while Hutch and Quentin hashed things out. Didn’t go well, Hutch? Your partner just turned every shade of pale there is. What happened? Starsky raised his face to Hutch’s, and even in profile Quentin could see the anguish there. But Hutch’s nod was answered with a small smile and Starsky turned back to Quentin. Quentin was pleased to see determination on the pale face.

“Can you tell me about it, David?”

“I had a breakdown, Quentin, shortly after I came back on duty after an assassination attempt on my life. I couldn’t handle the streets anymore. We had a call and it went down really bad. Bastard we were after had a gun to Hutch’s head for better than ten minutes before we got some backup and they took the guy out. Hutch and I have been in a lot of bad places, but I was never that scared before, even when I woke up after bein’ shot and they told me everything the bullets had done to my body. In my mind, I became the reason Hutch could get killed, because I was too damned scared to cover his back. I couldn’t handle that. That night I went home and pumped a wall full of bullets…I…I saved one for my head.” He smiled weakly at Hutch. “Never made it, neighbor called the cops and they broke in. Last thing I remember is Hutch holding me, tellin’ me I’d be okay. I got a lot of help after that from the head shrinkers, married Liz, was promoted to captain, had my kids…but eventually I lost Hutch for a while. I won’t lose him again, Quentin. My conversation with Liz ended with her accusing me of having another breakdown and blaming it on my being with Hutch. She had a lot to say about Hutch and me and our sexual preferences, too.”

“From what you’ve told me, I’d say the remarks about you and Ken were pretty much knee-jerk reactions.” Quentin paused and studied Starsky. “I’m more concerned about the breakdown accusation. Do you think you’re having another breakdown, David? Does what Liz said to you have any merit?”

“No and none, Quentin.”

“Ken?”

“No, Quentin.”

“Okay, gentlemen. Let’s get started. David, did Liz tell you who will be representing her?”

“Yeah, guy by the name of Glenn Rupert. Liz and I both know him, friend of her sister’s husband.”

Quentin’s brow went up at Rupert’s name. Dammit! Hate to tell you this one, gentlemen…

“David…Glenn Rupert is well known in law circles as a steadfast homophobic. He can be a very nasty man. Did you ever meet him?”

“No, Quentin, not face to face. He’s represented Liz’s brother-in-law a few times, handled some business deals for his family. From what I recall, Liz’s parents disliked him and for Jacob and Queenie to not like someone…well, the guy must be a snake.” Starsky paused to look at Hutch who had shifted in his seat and made a rude comment at Quentin’s description of Glenn Rupert. “Hutch, come on. Glenn Rupert is just one more problem; let’s not let him bother us. At least not yet, okay?”

“David’s right, Ken. And I’m sure you both realize there could be lots of name calling, lots of so called righteous souls attacking you both if this goes public. I’m asking you right now to let me run interference and do the talking. We’ll have to establish a great many ground rules as we move forward, but for now, let’s give Mr. Rupert a courtesy call and hear what, if anything, the man has to say. I may not specialize in divorce, gentlemen, but I know those who do and I know whom to consult with. You will both be well taken care of.” Quentin smiled what Hutch termed his ‘let’s reel in the jury now’ smile. “Let’s let Rupert think you’re dumb enough to have me representing you on my own. May as well keep the element of surprise…a bit unethical, but believe me, Rupert deserves it.” Quentin ignored the small intercom box on his desk and yelled for Grace to find Rupert’s phone number for him.

Grace knocked and entered Quentin’s office a few minutes later, handing him a slip of paper and looking pointedly at the intercom.

“You know I hate that thing, Gracie.”

“No, Quentin, you just can’t stand the thought of your voice being in a room you’re not.” Grace turned to Starsky and Hutch, her face lit with an exasperated smile. “Quentin is just a tiny bit behind the times. Listen, when you’re finished, why don’t you both stay for lunch?” Her voice trailed off as she left the room, “See you all in a little while…”

Quentin dialed Glenn Rupert’s number and was immediately put through by his secretary.

“Mr. Rupert? Quentin Cohen here, representing Captain David Starsky… Yes, yes, that’s right… Glenn? Certainly, yes, Quentin is fine, thank you. Glenn, at this point in time, Captain Starsky’s main concern is the welfare of his children. He has asked Mrs. Starsky to return them to the marital home, and it is his desire to see his children as soon as possible… I’m certain I don’t need to remind you that he is their father, Glenn… What’s that?” Quentin’s face suffused with anger and his words were well measured when he responded to Glenn Rupert’s words. “I strongly advise, Mr. Rupert, that you learn and understand the difference between a pedophile and a homosexual… Nonsense, I know the man personally.”

Hutch took a sharp breath, looking from Quentin to Starsky. Starsky couldn’t meet his eyes, the situation too painful already. Liz’s earlier words a sharp report he couldn’t stop hearing, her accusations ricocheting through his mind. Doesn’t matter, Hutch, it’s not true, it doesn’t matter…

“Watch yourself, sir! Now, back to Captain Starsky’s children. When will Mrs. Starsky be returning?… Of course he will, Mrs. Starsky and the children will receive all of the financial support they are entitled to… Again, Mr. Rupert, I advise you to watch your step. Captain Starsky’s breakdown and his recovery from that breakdown are known facts within the police department. Done and over, Mr. Rupert. Jeopardizing Captain Starsky’s position will only serve to drastically reduce his ability to provide for his family financially… No, Mr. Rupert, that is not agreeable at all, we will allow one week…no, that is a reasonable compromise… Work with it, Mr. Rupert. Get your facts and only your facts in order. I will not listen to any more groundless accusations, and I will protect both my client and Mr. Hutchinson from them… No, I’ll get back to you in a few days. Good day, sir.”

Quentin quietly laid the telephone receiver in its cradle. So that’s what you really meant by didn’t go well…Jesus, look at Ken’s face. Damn, damn, damn…

“David, your wife made some horrid accusations about Ken…you didn’t quite tell him the extent of it, did you?”

Starsky seemed to be having a hard time getting his breath. He pushed himself up and paced the small area behind the chairs. Hutch was a statue, fixated on the windows behind Quentin. Quentin could only watch as the tableau played out between the two men before him. Starsky would stop behind Hutch, start to speak, only to move away, pace a bit more. Long minutes passed before he finally quit, slumped over, hands on hips, first staring hard at the floor, then tossing a glare at Quentin.

“How could I tell him, huh? How could I tell the most decent man I’ve ever known what my wife had to say about him? I love Hutch.” Starsky moved then, crouched beside Hutch’s chair, grabbed a tense forearm with both hands. “More than anything, babe, I love you. I couldn’t hurt you with that crap Liz was tossin’ around. I…I couldn’t believe it when Liz started with that shit. I’m sorry…maybe I should have told you…I just…I knew it would hurt you…even more than it would piss you off. I know how you feel about kids, Hutch, ‘specially how you feel about mine. Hutch? My kids love you right back. Please, Hutch, don’t let a mess of stinkin’ words take that from you.”

“Starsk.” Hutch turned to Starsky. Slowly, as if the very movement caused him pain. “Kenny and Sarabet? I couldn’t love them any more than I do. When I look at them, I see you, your life. I would never, ever hurt them or allow anyone else to. God, Starsk, how could anyone..?” Starsky had no answer and his head dropped to rest on Hutch’s arm. Quentin could see how emotionally exhausted both men were, Hutch seemed barely able to lift the hand he laid on Starsky’s head and Starsky remained far too pale, his body shaking. I’m afraid for these men, we have a long way to go, Rupert’s going to throw every stone he can at them both, they’re going to be hurt, too…

“Ken, listen to me for a minute. You’ve been an attorney long enough to know how far a scumbag like Rupert will go to win a case. I’ve already told you and David what a vicious little man he can be. Hell, the asshole’s reputation precedes him everywhere he goes. I can guarantee you both that Rupert planted the ideas in Liz’s head…he probably handed her a script! Attorneys like Rupert thrive on scandal and other peoples’ misery, and he’s using her vulnerability as a weapon against the two of you to feed his own miserable ignorance. Let me assure you both, I have no qualms about filing a slander suit against the little bastard if he so much as whispers the word pedophile again. You let me deal with him, if nothing else I’ll sick Gracie on him. Stupid shit won’t know what hit him.”

Starsky couldn’t help it. He snorted into the folds of Hutch’s shirtsleeve. Hutch tugged gently at the hair beneath his hand, then a shoulder, then an elbow, coaxing Starsky back into his chair, sharing his laugh and taking his hand. Quentin was quite pleased with himself. Grace Wesson was a secret weapon in many more ways than one.

“Okay, let’s see now. Rupert will have called Liz by now to let her know about me. He’s obligated to tell her you’re willing to provide for her and the kids financially without delay. I know it’s hard, David, but I gave him a timeframe of one week for Liz to return with the kids. She may decide to come back sooner and that would be great, but I feel it would behoove us to be patient and let her come to that decision on her own without any pressure from us.” Quentin tapped his pencil on his desk before adding; “David, you have to be prepared for this. When your kids return is up to Liz. It doesn’t matter what timeframe we demand–I said a week to try and keep the upper hand–that very well may not happen. Liz and her attorney hold the whole deck of cards.”

Starsky looked frantically from Quentin to Hutch, panic pushing every other emotion from his heart. A week? I can’t let a even week go by…that’s a lifetime to their little hearts…they’ll hurt…

“Quentin? You sayin’ I can’t even talk to my kids…tell ’em I love ’em? I…I can’t wait…they can’t…I’ve talked to them every day of their lives since they were born! Every day…I tell them every day how much I love them…”

Hutch had to struggle to hold on to Starsky’s hand, to keep him in his seat. Starsky was so tense, so angered, so damned scared. Hutch couldn’t help the thought that raced through his mind. If anything could break David Starsky again, it would be the loss of his kids.

“Starsk, wait, hear what Quentin is saying to you. A week to come back, babe. Not a week without talking to Kenny and Sarabet. We call today, after lunch, just like we planned.” Hutch shifted his attention to Quentin. “David is going to call his mother-in-law this afternoon.” Hutch smiled at Starsky. “For some reason, Queenie is crazy about him. That’s what we’re going to do, Quentin, what David needs to do.” Please, understand what this means to him, Quentin, it’s that important. “No hardball tactics, Quentin, just David asking to talk to his kids.”

Grace’s soup and bread were soothing. Quentin’s selection of wine even more so. The lunch hour passed smoothly with mellow small talk of Starsky’s children, hopes for Hutch’s boy. Quentin was filled in on Jeri Eastman’s initial decision to keep Hutch out of his son’s life and the tiny spark of hope ignited during her conversation with Hutch that morning that Hutch would be included in his son’s life. A brief period of animated banter followed, bets placed on the soon to be born boy’s looks, before voices trailed off and each of the four was lost in his or her thoughts. Grace began to clear the table–the conversation had become painful for all its expectancy. Never having had children of her own, and Quentin’s grown and independent, she suspected Quentin’s thoughts paralleled her own, gentle wanting of what once was for him…of what once was a dream for her. Turning from the sink, she caught the yearning in Starsky’s eyes as they played over Hutch’s features. Lonely for his kids, in love with Hutch. Grace moved behind Quentin, planting a soft kiss atop his head. How could anyone judge such love to be wrong?

“You know, Quentin, maybe my fighting for my kids can help Hutch, too. I’m still the same dad I was before…it really blows my mind that a judge who doesn’t have a clue who I am, who Hutch is, can decide our futures with our own kids.” Starsky took a deep breath, released it as a sigh, and looked to Hutch. “I want our kids to grow up together. Protect each other. Maybe if I can win…oh, hell, when did I start thinking of it as winning?” Quentin and Grace faded away from the moment, Starsky focused on Hutch and Hutch only. “But that’s exactly what I have to do, isn’t it, Hutch? I have to win…we have to win, Hutch, for our kids.”

“Yeah, buddy, we do…but, have faith, too, okay, Starsk? We’ve been in a lot of tough spots and made it through together. We’ll do it again.” You’re at your limit, aren’t you babe? Hang on, I’ll get you home. “How about right now we go give Queenie a call and see if we can’t get Kenny and Sara on the phone?” Starsky nodded his agreement, Hutch reading the apprehensive hope in his silence, feeling it in the coldness of Starsky’s hand when he took it in his own. “We’ll let you know what happens. Quentin. Thanks for lunch, Grace.”

Grace left Quentin’s side and took Starsky in her arms. “David, whatever you need, you just let us know. Quentin will take good care of you. I’ll see to it personally.”

Starsky managed a smiled thank you and a kiss on Grace’s cheek. Time passed with too little sleep and too much anxiety was taking its toll and he wanted the security of being alone with Hutch. Quentin and Grace were good people in his book. Nonjudgmental, supportive, two new lifelines in his and Hutch’s small new world. But still too new in their knowledge of his and Hutch’s relationship for the total trust that belonged only to Hutch. Quentin would do a fine job with all the legal matters, no doubt there, and Starsky knew that eventually he would trust him as much as Hutch already did. But for now the walls of Grace’s kitchen were pressing too close and he needed to get away. Starsky shook Quentin’s hand and thanked him, leaving the room ahead of Hutch, three sets of very concerned eyes watching his back.

Hutch followed Starsky into the apartment, quietly closing the door behind them, watching as Starsky walked to the table beside the sofa and stopped, stared hard at the telephone, swallowed hard, took in a deep breath. Have to slow him down…he’s not ready…he’s too afraid of what might happen…

“Sure you’re ready, Starsk? Hey, take a minute. Come here, babe.”

Hutch pulled Starsky close, feeling taut muscles and the quickened rise and fall of Starsky’s chest against his own. Starsky’s arms tightened hard around him, gradually relaxing as Hutch caressed him, rubbed out the knots in his neck. Long moments passed before Starsky felt safe enough to pull back.

“Okay, Hutch, I’m okay now. Thanks, blondie…come on, let’s call my kids.”

Their positions replayed from earlier in the day, from all the time they had known each other. Side by side on the sofa, the lengths of their bodies touching. Their own safe haven. Queenie answered.

“Queenie, it’s David. How…how are things? Is Liz all right, Queenie?”

“Sleeping, David, Jacob and I, we got her to sleep. Oh, David, she was carrying on so we thought she would be ill. You know that she called Glenn Rupert? Every time she speaks to him she gets so upset! I think Jacob will not have him. Such a prejudiced little man. David…David, you are sure? Of what you are doing?”

“Queenie…yes, I’m sure. Queenie, the last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt my family. I…I know how hard it is to understand; I know how much I’ve hurt Liz. I am sorry, Queenie. I love Liz, loved her when I married her…just not like I love Hutch. Dammit, Queenie, I can’t explain it without sounding like a total jerk. Maybe it will be easier when I see you…” Starsky drew in a deep breath and Hutch counted the first of many wishes he knew Starsky had. “I want to see you and Jacob, Queenie… Queenie, that you’ll even speak to me…how can you not hate me?”

“Ah, David, you are ours as much as our own sons are. So much we have to work through…but Jacob and I, we have seen much in our lives…there is no place left for hate.” Starsky listened quietly to Queenie’s response, smiled at Hutch through tear-laden eyelashes. “I promised your mother I would take care of you, David, and I shall.”

At that, the tears fell. “Thank you, Queenie. You know how much that means to me.”

Comfortable silence soothed across the phone lines. Starsky picturing Queenie at her kitchen table, sipping tea, her gnarled forefinger circling the rim of the fragile china cup, just as Liz did when she talked on the phone. Enormously relieved by his mother-in-law’s words, grateful for what she had just given him, convinced he didn’t deserve it, he took a deep breath and latched onto Hutch’s thigh, ready to ask for his kids.

“Queenie…”

“Bub! Gramp teased Sarabet with a worm! And then he ate one!”

Kenny! that’s my Kenny…

“So did you, Kenny. Icky!” The last word muffled, Starsky could easily picture his daughter burying her face against her grandmother, too little to know if she should laugh or cry. Sara! Don’t cry, baby, the boys are just teasing you…

Starsky laughed along as Queenie laughed the laugh he loved to hear, calling to her grandson; “Come, come here by me, Kenny, I have a surprise for you and your sister. Daddy is on the phone–here, Kenny, you first.” Starsky leaned into Hutch, inviting him to share.

“Daddy! Hi, Daddy! Bub said you had to work, I wish you were here, Gramp took us on the boat and Bub made us pancakes, and I ate a worm, Daddy!”

“Hi yourself, Kenny. Hey, honey, no more worms! Tell Gramp they’re bad for his diet. Are you having a good time, Kenny? Did you wear your life jacket on the boat?”

“Yes, Daddy, all the buckles, just like you showed me. Sarabet, too. Daddy? Can I tell you a secret?” Kenny’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial level. “Gramp swallowed his worm, but I spit mine out. It was gross, like liver! But don’t tell Gramp, okay? Are you coming out soon? Bub will make more pancakes… I miss you, Daddy.” The little boy voice got higher, like Kenny’s always did when he was tired, when he was sad. “Daddy?”

Starsky’s finger drew loopy eights against Hutch’s leg. This is the first time I don’t know what to say to my boy. Hutch found his hand, squeezed some of the pain away. Told him it was okay.

“Soon, Kenny, I’ll see you real soon. Hey, buddy? I love you…you can always tell Daddy your secrets. You sound a little sleepy, you ready for a snooze? Maybe you can talk Gramp into one, too, probably needs one after that worm.”

Kenny’s laughter sang over the line, Hutch couldn’t help it anymore than Starsky, laughing along through the tears in his own eyes. Kenny’s laughter was love, totally contagious and pure.

“Hey, Kenny? Put your sister on? I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Take care of Sarabet, son…I don’t think she liked the worm business. Make sure you tell her you’re sorry and ask Bub to save me some pancakes, okay? Be a good boy for Mommy. Love you, sweetheart.”

“I will, Daddy, I’ll be good, promise. I love you, too. Bye.”

Some rustling sounds and Kenny being true to his word, telling his sister he was sorry and as his voice faded away, inviting his Gramp for a nap. Sara’s sweet, lilting lisp was next.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, baby. What’s doin’, huh?”

“Well…Gramp ‘n Kenny, they ated worms and Bub scolded Gramp and now Kenny and Gramp have to take a nap!” Feminine and victorious and sassy, Starsky couldn’t help but wonder if his Sara was stamping her foot at the end of her sentence. Queenie’s voice in the background intoned a gentle warning to her granddaughter and Princess Sara gave way to little Sarabet. “Kenny said sorry, Daddy, Gramp, too.” Sara took a deep breath and her father rolled his eyes, gearing up for nonstop Sara. “Can you come now, Daddy? Uncle Mark left and Auntie Fay and you play better and Mommy is sad and Kenny has a falling out tooth and I lost my gym shoe! I love you, Daddy, bye!”

“Sara! Whoa, baby, come back for a minute, I want to tell you something. You there, Sarabet?”

“Hmm, hmm.”

Starsky laid his head back, resting his eyes on Hutch’s. “I love you, baby girl, all around the world.” Sara giggled at what was coming. “After while crocodile?”

“Ate her ‘gator.” More giggles, then all solemn and serious. “I love you, too, Daddy. Bye, Daddy.”

“Bye…bye-bye, Sara.”

Queenie was back, shooing Sarabet off for her own nap, promising company after she said good-bye to Sara’s father, admonishing her not to wake her mommy.

“David? Did that help, David?”

“Yes, thank you, Queenie. Queenie, you know how much I love my kids. I…I don’t want them hurt…please…I have to have them in my life…I know what…”

“Shhh, David, hush now. Don’t take the moment away from yourself. We have kept things from the children, Sarabet did wake up to potty and heard Liz crying…we told her Mommy was having a bad dream.” Queenie paused and Starsky could feel tension building, tension so recognizable because he had felt it on so few occasions from Queenie. “Liz is trying, David, not to upset the babies. She loves them, too.” The shadow of anger was back–darker and sharper this time–but still, no one would have heard it but Starsky, and he heard it as if Queenie were yelling at him. Liz was hers and she would protect her. Speak for her. “Jacob and I, we think Liz should come home alone first and leave the babies here for a bit…you and Liz need to talk, David.”

It hit Starsky that he was very much afraid to see Liz. Liz knew all of his secrets and now she knew his lies, too. Somehow, all the lies had provided anonymity from his own wife, something almost tangible to hide behind. But the lies were out in the open now, laid out in front of him just as sharply as Quentin had penned ‘Starsky v Starsky’ on his legal pad. And this woman he had lied to and hurt beyond any hurt he had experienced, was his only hope for seeing his kids. How can I ever make you understand, Liz? How…

“I understand, Queenie, of course…whatever Liz wants, you know that. Please ask her to call me when she’s ready–I left Hutch’s phone number and address on the ‘fridge.” Almost afraid he would be rebuffed, Starsky made another request. “Is it okay if I call the kids again, Queenie? I need to talk to them every day..I…I just need to.”

“Call, David. I will not deny the babies their father. After all, we all love Kenny and Sarabet. We will all do what is best for them. Good-bye, son…tomorrow will be another day and we will talk some more.”

“Yeah, I’ll call tomorrow…thank you, Queenie. Let Liz know we talked, okay? I’ll be waiting for her call when she gets back. Bye, Queenie.”

Starsky handed the receiver to Hutch and laid his head on Hutch’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything, didn’t have to really, not to Hutch. The beauty and innocence of Kenny and Sarabet, the happiness in their voices when they heard his own, the connection between father and children unbroken despite all that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, blanketed him with relief and hope and warmth. Lulled him away from his fears and augmented the security of Hutch’s closeness. His breathing deepened and his body went slack against Hutch. Sleep took him.

Hutch eased himself away, lifting Starsky’s legs onto the sofa and settling his head on the loose cushions. Pulling a quilt from a nearby chair, he tucked and fussed to his heart’s content, the giving all his for this rare moment. Starsky. All the years of knowing him, all the new discoveries, their love and new loving. Hutch marveled at the feelings caring for Starsky evoked. How many times had he touched him? Cuffed the back of his neck, patted his belly, squeezed an arm? Countless hugs offered up simply because he loved him and cared–all reciprocated as unselfishly as they were offered–none of that was any different. It’s you I love, David. You I have always loved. Everything that makes up you. The hard- nosed cop shamelessly wrapped around two tiny fingers. The masculine man with overwhelmingly strong sexual prowess turned gentle and coaxing and giving with Hutch. David Starsky was a study in contrasts, just as he and Hutch were dark and light. Contrasts that, woven together, wrapped Hutch in their fabric and sheltered him. Kept him.

Starsky didn’t so much as stir when Hutch bent down to kiss his lips. Smiling to himself, contented to have his lover home with him, home to return to, Hutch wandered to the kitchen and penned a short note letting Starsky know he would be at the courthouse for a few hours taking care of a restraining order for Jeri Eastman. I’ll bring dinner, see you around 6…love you…H.

Catching himself smiling at the sight of Starsky’s Volvo parked in front of his home–you’ve got it bad, Hutchinson–Hutch almost missed the nondescript sedan parked half way down the block. Haddon. The afternoon sun glinted back at Hutch from Haddon’s vehicle, and he knew Haddon had his camera lens trained on him. Fighting back a strong urge to flip the old man off, Hutch calmly backed his own car into the street and headed off for the courthouse. Taking his time at the first stop sign, he watched as Haddon’s vehicle left its parking spot and headed off in the opposite direction. Wise move, Haddon, if Starsky saw you…

The courthouse was quiet, a lazy Friday afternoon for most of the attorneys and grateful, golf-loving judges. Hutch strode down the corridors, checking out courtrooms until he found an active proceeding. Judge Betina Cornwall was on the bench. Super. Betina Cornwall had a soft spot for both Kenneth Hutchinson and David Starsky. Started and cultivated over the years following Starsky’s shooting, Judge Cornwall had signed warrants for, among others, James Gunther himself. Hutch could still hear her gruff ‘Did you get him?’ echoing through the courtroom when he returned from San Francisco. When the enormity of all that had taken place hit him and he couldn’t answer her question, Judge Cornwall had cleared her courtroom and huddled with Hutch on the floor as he wept. She visited Starsky in the hospital, spoiled him rotten, in fact. She consoled Hutch on his bleakest of days and ordered him to get his act together, pointing out in no uncertain terms that if he gave up, Starsky would, too, and in the end it would not be James Gunther who took Starsky’s life. It wasn’t until well after Starsky’s release from the hospital that he and Hutch learned that Judge Betina Cornwall had buried her rookie-cop son while they were still at the Academy.

Slipping into a chair at one of the attorney tables, Hutch rustled through a stack of forms, finally finding the blank restraining orders. Pulling a slip of paper from his pocket, he filled in all the information Jeri had provided and handed the paper to the bailiff. Judge Cornwall had yet to look up, but she did when she saw Hutch’s signature, her earthy face lighting in a smile. The courtroom had emptied, and Judge Cornwall wasted no time with formalities.

“Kenneth! What a nice surprise. What are you up to that has to keep an old woman from her Friday afternoon nap? Don’t get up–stay right there, Kenneth, I’ve had enough of this judge’s bench for one day.” Judge Cornwall took a seat beside Hutch, leaning in for a peck on the cheek, keeping hold of the hand she shook. “Now tell me what I can do for you.”

Hutch studied the soft brown hand in his, remembering how it had soothed Starsky’s brow, held a straw so he could drink, doled out forbidden treats, and, on more than one occasion, given Starsky a lifeline to hold on to. Betina Cornwall was a good and dear friend, old and wise and comforting. But today she was first and foremost a judge and Hutch needed her help.

“I need one of those last-minute-filing-serving kind of favor, Betina.”

Judge Cornwall smiled at Hutch’s best attorney talk, wondering what was making this usually unflappable man so nervous.

“Tell me about it, Kenneth.”

Hutch smiled back at his friend, embarrassed that after all these years he had become tongue-tied, moving quickly back to comfortable when the judge squeezed his hand.

“Ever hear of a PI by the name of John Haddon? Haddon has been harassing Jeri Eastman, Betina. He’s become infatuated with her and thinks that the two of them are, umm, an item.” Hutch studied the table top, feeling his cheeks flush, knowing he had to tell Judge Cornwall more, wondering just how to do that and how much.

“Go on, Kenneth. You and Ms. Eastman were very involved with one another, if I remember correctly?”

“Yes, that’s right, we were…but…but we’re no longer together, we broke up several months ago. Initially Haddon was hired by Jeri to follow me after we broke up. You see, Betina, it turned out that Jeri is having a child. My child.” Hutch chose not to look at the judge, afraid he sounded as much like an ass as he felt. “And now, like I said, Haddon has convinced himself that Jeri loves him and that she wants him to raise her baby. He’s accosted her on several occasions, calls her constantly, parks in her parking garage, just won’t take no for an answer. Jeri is fed up and frightened, and she and I both feel that the time has come for legal intervention and that’s why I’m here, Betina, to have a restraining order signed so I can have Haddon served today.”

Betina Cornwall regarded Hutch with open and frank curiosity. For such an accomplished attorney, he had certainly told her a story filled with holes and bombshells. “Is there a little more to this than what you’ve told me, Kenneth? I don’t mean the restraining order, of course I’ll take care of that. Tell me why Ms. Eastman felt it necessary to have you followed. And, Kenneth? Where does David fit into all of this?”

Hutch met Judge Cornwall’s eyes. He was not now, nor would he ever be, ashamed of his relationship with David Starsky. It came to him that there would be just as many people who accepted their relationship, as there would be people who didn’t. He knew instinctively that Betina Cornwall would find no personal issue with him and Starsky, knew he could trust her to keep their confidence. But, Betina Cornwall was a judge. As impartial and fair as they came, but also bound by what Quentin Cohen termed ‘an archaic legal system’. And as a judge, a long-established judge, could she really have a legal opinion of gays other than that which the law dictated? Ah, shit, bite the bullet, Hutchinson, see what she has to say.

“Betina, David and I are in love, very deeply in love. Today, David moved in with me. He and his wife are divorcing and David and I will be spending the rest of our lives together. And David is why I left Jeri Eastman.” Hutch squirmed under Judge Cornwall’s frank gaze. Unable to read any response on her face, he stumbled on. “Haddon was a hand we hadn’t counted on. He sent photos and a forged note to David’s wife, letting her think they were from Jeri, telling her about David and me. She–Liz–was hurt badly. David and I acknowledge the pain we have caused his family and Jeri, and we both regret it deeply, but truthfully, we sure didn’t need Haddon to involve himself. And now this business with Jeri…it’s just so bizarre. Haddon is twice her age and has worked for her father’s firm for years, he watched Jeri grow up for God’s sake! He’s completely fixated on her and the baby–she’s told him he’s fired and demanded her files, but the guy just doesn’t get it. He’s still at it…when I left home to come here, he was parked down the street, taking pictures of me.”

Judge Cornwall interrupted. “Do you feel endangered, Ken? I could think of a reason to file against this Haddon character on your and David’s behalf, too.”

“No, no, Betina, I don’t think David and I are in any physical danger. Haddon hasn’t approached either of us, his only contact has been to send Liz the pictures. Be a good idea if he stayed away from David, though…David is having a hard time. He’s scared to death he’ll lose his kids, and I can see him taking out his frustrations on Haddon.” Hutch was quiet for a moment, rubbing a thumb over the back of Judge Cornwall’s hand. “Betina? I’m worried about David. Liz brought up his breakdown and even though we think that was her attorney’s doing, it took David away for a few minutes. Scared the shit out of me.”

“Who is her attorney, Kenneth?”

“Glenn Rupert.”

Judge Cornwall swore under her breath, then silently took the restraining order from Hutch and signed it, calling a bailiff in from the hallway and instructing him to have it filed and served immediately at the address Hutch had indicated. Standing before Hutch, she smiled and held out her hand.

“Come with me, Kenneth, to my chambers. We need to speak in private.”

Hutch followed wordlessly, taking a chair opposite the judge’s, letting her take the lead.

“Ken, I shouldn’t be talking to you about any of this. Judges aren’t supposed to voice opinions outside the parameters of the law, but I’m a stubborn old woman just about ready to retire from the bench, so what the hell. I’m sure you know by now that John Haddon is probably the least of your and David’s problems. Both of you are going to face enormous battles. Liz Starsky will have nearly free rein to keep David’s children from him and as much as it hurts to tell you this, Kenneth, your chances for a part in your own child’s life are almost nonexistent. There are sympathetic judges out there, but the chances of you or David having one on the bench if your custody issues go before a judge is very slim. And Glenn Rupert! That man is nothing but a bigot, Kenneth. You must be very careful, my friend. Glenn Rupert will say and do anything to make you and David out to be perverted monsters. You will both need excellent legal representation. Who will be taking your cases?

“Quentin Cohen and friends…we’re letting Rupert think he has the upper hand until Quentin pulls in his divorce attorney associates. Quentin is well aware of the kind of man Rupert is, he told David and me all about him, and he’s not about to take any crap from him. Rupert’s already used Liz Starsky as a messenger. David talked to her this morning and she accused me of being a pedophile, and like I told you before, brought up David’s breakdown.” Hutch paused and studied the top of Judge Cornwall’s desk. Sighing deeply, he shared his fear with her. “Betina, David…this morning after David talked to Liz, he became physically ill at the suggestion that his relationship with me was causing him to have another breakdown. He was so scared…so damned fragile. I’m worried about him. I…I couldn’t bear to lose him.”

Hutch found himself enveloped in Betina Cornwall’s judge’s robes and wiry arms. Judge Cornwall held him close, hushing away his fears.

“Kenneth, listen to me. David Starsky is a strong and healthy man who has been dealt many, many bad hands in his lifetime. And David Starsky has pulled through each and every time with your help and love. Don’t underestimate him, let him be strong for both of you, that’s what he thrives on. You will need David every bit as much as he will need you. And when he needs to fall apart, let him! Talk to him, do whatever it takes to calm him, and go on from there. Take what is happening apart bit by bit and choose your battles in the order you wish to fight them. Set up your priorities and fight for them. But fight quietly, Kenneth, do your best to keep custody issues between you and Jeri and David and his wife and away from a judge. Quentin will do good by you, he knows more attorneys than I do and is very good at pulling in favors.

“Kenneth, so far you’ve only mentioned your child in passing. You’ve talked about David and how worried you are about him and that he’s afraid he’ll lose his children, but what about you? What are you going to do about your baby?”

“I hope that Jeri will change her mind, Betina. She was as furious as Liz Starsky when I left her. She didn’t know she was pregnant then and when she found out, she used the fact to hurt me. It’s hard to pin down, but when I talked to her this morning, things were different. She’s not as angry; we even laughed about some things. She invited me to call again and talk, and so from that, I have hope. I haven’t thought too much about a legal battle–I’ve been pretty much focused on David.” Hutch’s voice went soft. “Jeri is having a boy, Betina.”

“Oh, Kenneth. A son. Let’s hope that you’re right and that Jeri will change her mind and see that that would be best for the baby. Little boys need their daddies, and you, my friend, will make one hell of a daddy. You and David deserve your children. Someday the law will see that divorce is between a husband and wife, not between a dad and his kids. You and David are fine men, Kenneth. Remember that. There is no one, perfect person on this earth. We all hurt someone eventually. You and David have acknowledged that hurt, and the best thing you can do is pick up from there and move forward, try to make things better. Now, I’m ready to call it a day and head home for that nap. Give David my love and tell him to get over here to see me. I miss him. I’m here whenever you need me, Kenneth, here for both of you. Now go, find happiness.”

Hutch folded Judge Cornwall into his arms and held tight.

“I have, Betina, I have found happiness.”

Hutch managed to open the door and make it inside without dropping a single bag of the Chinese food he had picked up for dinner. And there were a lot of bags. Starsky’s favorites, his, wine, dessert–a celebration in carryout. Grinning around the bag clenched in his teeth, his eyes swept over the apartment. Starsky had been busy; cleaned, set the table, looked to have had a gardening session with Grace judging by the flowers scattered around the room. The California night promised to be a cool one and Starsky had taken care of that, too; a fire burned in the old adobe fireplace. What had been an apartment, a place to live, was home.

“Hi, honey, you’re home.”

Starsky’s voice, warm and welcoming. Happy. Dressed in baggy and low-slung, old sweat pants and one of Hutch’s less flamboyant bowling shirts, open as Starsky had always preferred and Hutch enjoyed.

“Hey, babe, that’s supposed to be my line.”

Starsky was there relieving Hutch of some of his packages, kissing the mouth that had held the dessert bag and nudging him toward the kitchen. Hutch was keenly aware of his and Starsky’s mingled scents on the clothing Starsky wore. Keenly aware of how familiar that had become, how their lovemaking intensified it, how much he enjoyed it. More flowers, more sparkle, more caring awaited in the kitchen.

“You’ve been busy, Starsk, you didn’t have to…”

“‘Course I did, Hutch. I was here, I’m going to be here. No big deal, I kinda like cleaning up after you, but the dishes are yours, babe. Hey, come on, what did you bring? I’m starved.”

Hutch found he was starved, too. Chopsticks clattered for the first ten minutes, then, by usual and customary agreement, were abandoned for forks and sometimes fingers. Conversation centered on Betina Cornwall.

“She’s on our side, Starsk. Happy for us…but worried, too. Our best bet seems to be to not let custody issues go before a judge, better if we can work them out with Liz and Jeri–we need to talk to Quentin about that. And we need to worry about Rupert, Betina says he’s trouble, too.”

“Well, I can guarantee you that if Jacob wants Rupert out, he’ll be out–Queenie says he doesn’t like the guy. I’m hoping Liz will calm down and see Rupert for what he is. Don’t understand why her family got messed up with him in the first place. Pass the rice, wouldya’ please? Oh, Quentin called while you were gone, wondered if you wanted a few days off.”

“What did you tell him Starsk?”

“Yes. I told him yes, you did…that okay, blondie?”

“Sure, you got something in mind, babe?”

“Well. We are on our honeymoon, ya know.”

Hutch laughed. “That what you told Quentin, Starsk?”

“Yep. Hey, what else did Betina have to say? Anything about me?”

“You’re fishing, Starsk, but yeah, she said to come and see her. Misses you. Can you believe that?”

“‘Course I can. You get the restraining order filed?”

“Yeah, almost forgot about that. Haddon’s been served. I better call Jeri and let her know. You ready for dessert?”

Sake accompanied almond cookies, the rice wine over-warming them, drawing flushes to their faces.

“Come on, blintz, let’s get these dishes done so we can relax. Been a helluva day.”

Hutch closed the cabinet on the last dish and turned to find Starsky standing in front of the fireplace. He had opened a couple of windows and the cool breeze wafted through the warmth of the room, little air currents swirling and ruffling draperies and magazine pages. And Starsky’s hair. They were like a magnet, those brown-black curls that defined Starsky. And Hutch was as drawn to them as always, circling Starsky with his arms and gathering him to his own chest, burying his face in the familiar softness. The curls had grown long at the nape of Starsky’s neck and Hutch lifted them away, kissing that vulnerable spot, feeling protective and possessive. The warm cool air floated about them, Starsky’s taste sweet and salty on his lips. Hutch skimmed the body he held, palms cool against the fire-warmed belly, slipping beneath Starsky’s waistband, the skin there cooler, too, within its shelter of clothing.

“David? Let me make love to you?”

The eyes that met Hutch’s were dark with want. Starsky didn’t speak, but his tongue wet his lips and his hands cupped Hutch’s face and he kissed him. Hutch pulled the quilt he had covered Starsky with earlier that day from its chair and spread it at their feet in front of the fire. Starsky’s breath caught helplessly in his throat as Hutch stripped in the light from the fire and then gathered Starsky close, pressing his nude body to Starsky’s clothing. Their cocks danced sensually on either side of the worn fleece, Hutch shoving his hands down the back and finding Starsky’s ass, reaching around front for a handful of balls and cock, finally stripping Starsky of what little he wore. Hutch fell to his knees and held his hand out to his lover, drawing Starsky’s body down to kneel with him, pressed tightly together, caressing Starsky’s back and neck and arms, bellies cradling their erections between them. Returning Starsky’s kiss, Hutch listened to the quiet in the room, hearing crackles from the fire, skin sliding over skin whispers, suckling, their breaths. Hutch lowered Starsky to the floor and curled up beside him watching light and shadows from the fire dance patterns across his body, licking Starsky’s skin with orange and red tongues, playing light and dark with his eyes, edging his body hair with gold.

The fire played its hot and cold games and Starsky shivered under the sensation, his ass and back cool on the quilt, face and chest and genitals hot from the flames. He rested his eyes on Hutch, soaking in the body curled beside him, glowing bronze and platinum and sleek. He wanted the tiny fires reflected in Hutch’s eyes to touch him, burn his skin with their desire, and he pressed closer, moaning when Hutch laid one hand on the flat of his belly. Eagerly meeting the mouth that lowered to his own, pushing and pulling at Hutch’s tongue, feeling the hand on his belly travel to explore and find and fondle. Hutch left his mouth, finding neck and shoulder, lapping the nipple closest to him to a hard, wet peak, blowing cool breath against hot air as his fingers circled Starsky’s cock, the width of Hutch’s hand blocking the fire’s heat from its base, leaving the exposed shaft and glans at the fire’s mercy. Starsky cried for him, wanting to be covered, sheltered from the air, and Hutch laid his body over him and began again, kissing and licking, sucking Starsky’s flesh into his mouth, washing eyelids and lashes with his tongue, biting under Starsky’s chin.

“Hutch!”

“I’m here, babe, right here. Gonna love you, David, show you…hands over your head, love, my party…”

Hutch shifted his weight, moving his legs between Starsky’s. His own cock rode low, well below Starsky’s balls, the quilt beneath them taking thrusts he couldn’t help as he made the exquisite journey down Starsky’s chest, pulling Starsky’s nipples into his mouth, centering himself to follow the pattern of hair that ran down Starsky’s belly to his groin where it turned wiry and bushy and near black. Hutch buried his face in that hair, breathing in musk and clean and sex. Starsky’s penis strained against the side of his face, hard, hot, and demanding attention. Hutch’s tongue found the shaft first, pointed muscle painting the length beneath it with wet from base to tip, Hutch’s hand joining in, pumping slow and firm. His tongue again, parting the tiny slit, circling the glans, giving way to careful teeth that nipped at the crown and pulled at Starsky’s pubic hair. And then his entire mouth, hot and wet and close, pulling Starsky’s cock deep and tight to the back of his throat, controlling Starsky’s thrusting with firm hands holding his hips. When Starsky began to swell and struggled against Hutch’s hands, Hutch released him and petted him and soothed, not ready to let Starsky come yet.

“Bend your leg for me, Starsk…make room…that’s it, babe, want your ass…spread your legs…good, Starsk…perfect.”

Starsky’s center rested on Hutch’s palm. Hutch pressed and then parted him, rubbing Starsky’s anus and the skin behind his sac, shifting and penetrating with one long finger, Starsky’s hiss lost in the sounds of a log breaking in the fireplace as it burned through. Another finger, and another, almost a cock, sliding in deep and nearly back out, thumb pressed hard against Starsky’s perineum, thumbnail scratching at the back of his sac. Starsky made an incoherent sound and one hand broke its promise and found Hutch’s head, pulling the fine hair, directing the kiss-swollen lips until Starsky’s cock was home again. Hutch didn’t hold him back this time, letting Starsky set his rhythm, taking him down his throat–deep, tight, swallowing strokes that tightened as Starsky grew even longer and wider and with a final thrust of his cock and Hutch’s fingers, spilled himself down Hutch’s throat and in his mouth, over his lips.

Before Starsky could recover from his orgasm, as his cock still pulsed and wept and his eyes were closed, Hutch released him from his mouth and pulled his fingers from his ass and rammed himself deep into Starsky’s body. Starsky convulsed around Hutch, holding tight, adjusting then wanting, opening and relaxing, inner muscles pulling Hutch, encouraging him to move, to come. A dozen long hard strokes and he did, freezing in place above Starsky, his body as rigid as his buried cock, relaxing as seconds passed, collapsing to cover Starsky, the room muffled and dark, the fire dying down to glowing embers.

The world finally came back into focus and Hutch shifted his body, preparing to withdraw from Starsky. He was stopped by the pressure of Starsky’s knees against his sides holding him firmly in place. Starsky’s breath came hot and urgent against Hutch’s mouth.

“Don’t pull out, babe, stay in me…wanna feel ya grow hard…in me, Hutch, grow in me…”

Hutch smiled softly, sleepily nuzzling at his lover’s ear. “Aww, Starsk…don’t know if I can, love…not a kid anymore.” But Starsky clenched his ass hard, squeezing Hutch’s penis, holding on tight to what he wanted.

“Together, Hutch, we can do it together… I want you to fuck me again, babe, and I want to feel every second of you lovin’ me. Do it, Hutch, can you feel me?”

Starsky’s mouth was all over Hutch’s face, kissing his lashes, his tongue washing over Hutch’s nose and lips, sweeping up each side to his ears. Wrapping his legs around the body that lay on top of him, rubbing the long back, teasing Hutch’s ass, holding his lover to his own body, continually tightening and relaxing himself around Hutch’s cock, coaxing and wanting.

“Do it, Hutch, get that cock of yours hard for me, fill me, lover, all the way to my heart… Damn you, Hutch, fill me! Oh, Hutch, I want you…”

Hutch lifted his body, wanting to see Starsky’s face as he pushed himself hard against Starsky’s ass, feeling his penis move inside of Starsky, just hard enough now to slide an inch upward, just hard enough for Starsky to feel. Starsky returned Hutch’s gaze, his breath coming in short pants as he continued to tighten himself around Hutch’s slowly filling cock. Starsky reached between them, palming his own penis, rubbing himself, pressing himself to Hutch’s belly, hard and throbbing against Hutch’s smooth skin.

“Feel me, babe, feel what you do to me. I can feel you, Hutch, growin’ inside me like you’ve always been there, your cock a part of me…come on, babe, take me…”

Starsky continued to stroke his own cock, spreading new pre-cum on Hutch’s belly, intensifying the musky scent of sex between them. When he reached far down with one hand and pushed his way to Hutch’s scrotum and rolled his balls between his fingers, Hutch growled low in his throat and pulled Starsky’s hands away and pinned them back up over his head.

“Open your mouth, David.”

Bringing his own mouth down, Hutch gently laid his tongue on top of Starsky’s. Starsky moaned around the soft, round organ, felt Hutch gradually stiffen it and point to the back of Starsky’s throat, caressing his palate and teeth, stroking his tongue. Finally thrusting in and out, Hutch began fucking Starsky’s mouth with his tongue, copying the rhythm with his hips. He was hard now, hard and long and completely engorged, giving Starsky what he had begged for. Starsky arched his hips and for a moment Hutch held him in place, pinned by Hutch’s hands holding his above his head and by Hutch’s cock impaled deep within his body. Pinned by Hutch’s dark filled eyes on his, all of his own desire and want looking back at him.

Hutch pushed and threw his head back. “Oh, Starsk, so deep.” Again. “This what you wanted, lover? Did you feel me? Feel me grow for you?” Hutch pulled back then, almost out, and plunged back in hard, Starsky taking his length without effort, pushing to meet Hutch’s body, crying out loud at the pleasure Hutch brought to him.

“Babe…Hutch…that’s it, hard, push… Let my hands go, Hutch…please, I need to…”

“Need to what, David? Come again, touch yourself? Touch me? Can you feel your own cock…there between us, Starsk? So damn hard. You’re so damn hard…” Hutch tightened his grasp on Starsky’s hands and pushed up hard against his ass, moving his body from side to side, massaging Starsky’s channel, pulling back and thrusting himself forward, his balls rolling against Starsky’s body.

“Damn you, Hutch! Let me go…please, babe, let me touch you…I need to feel all of you…your mouth, Hutch, give me your mouth again, babe…please.”

Hutch’s mouth found Starsky’s as he released his hands, trailing fingers down Starsky’s arms, capturing the face of his lover between his palms. Hutch surrendered himself to Starsky’s lips and tongue and fingers, holding himself deep in Starsky’s body, as Starsky took his fill of Hutch’s skin and taste, hands searching and finding, pleasuring Hutch. And when Starsky circled Hutch’s neck with his arms and rocked forward, Hutch understood what he wanted and gracefully completed the movement. Wrapping Starsky in his arms and rolling onto his back, seating Starsky on his cock, as deeply joined as they could possibly be.

Tremors ran through both of their bodies. Hutch rested his hands on Starsky’s thighs, drawing tiny circles in the hair he found there. Starsky caressed the smooth belly and chest before him, pinching Hutch’s nipples, running long fingers down the length of his body, tangling them in Hutch’s pubic hair, fingering the very base of Hutch’s cock where it was joined to his body. Hutch thrust upward with his hips at the added stimulation, his already sensitive cock throbbing, demanding relief.

“Starsk…I need to come again, Starsk. Come with me, babe, finish with me.”

Starsky lifted his body, riding Hutch, leaning back, his hands balancing behind him on Hutch’s thighs, strong legs pumping him up and down. Starsky’s erection thrust out before him, pulsing hard with each movement of Hutch’s cock within him, weeping freely, begging Hutch to touch. But Hutch held back–Starsky would tell him when. For the moment, Hutch watched. Watched his cock slide in and out of Starsky, watched Starsky’s body making love to him. He listened as Starsky’s breathing became sharp and he called out to his lover, “Hutch…now, love…come with me now… Hutch!”

Hutch curved the palm of one hand over the head of Starsky’s cock, sliding Starsky’s wetness over his glans, moving his hand against the blunt hardness but not holding on, not squeezing, not pumping. And Starsky came from the sheer physical contact, his semen spraying Hutch’s palm as Hutch came deep within him, each man holding himself still, watching the other’s face. And when their bodies quit contracting, Starsky lay forward, blanketing Hutch as Hutch had him, burying his face against blond hair, whispering over and over in Hutch’s ear that he loved him. Always would.

Hutch gathered Starsky close, felt his cock finally release from Starsky’s body as Starsky squirmed against him, seeking and finding comfort and warmth in Hutch’s closeness. Ignoring the sticky wetness that coated their bodies, Starsky drifted off first, safe and content, lawyers and accusations and fighting absent from his mind. Wrapped together in the quilt on the floor, Hutch joined his lover in sleep.

Late morning found Hutch sleeping in. Sometime during the night someone had deposited him in his bed and covered him with an extra blanket against the chill. Stretching out the stiffness that accompanied sex and sleep on a hardwood floor, he was surprised by the time staring at him from the alarm clock. Quarter to eleven. The morning gone. Laughter drifted to his ears. Starsky’s laughter and then his voice, gentle and reassuring, some nonsense about boo-boos and magic Band-Aids. Talking to his kids. A few minutes of quiet and a different tone, still gentle, but urgent, and, after a few minutes, almost desperate. Hutch was out of bed and in the living room, allowing Starsky his space, but right there. Close.

“Liz, Liz, listen to me now, for just a minute, okay? You don’t need to do that…come on, Liz! Please stop. Lizzy, that kind of talk isn’t going to change anything. That’s it, come on now, calm down.” Starsky held a hand out to Hutch, pulling him to sit alongside of him on the sofa, hanging on to his hand, giving a squeeze that left Hutch sharing Starsky’s anxiety. “Liz? Maybe we should wait and talk when you get back home. No sense yelling at each other over the phone…that’s right, we were pretty good at doing that face to face.” Starsky shot a rueful smile at Hutch. “Sure, Liz…Monday will be fine, I have plenty of comp time coming, I’ll take a few days next week. Call me when you get in, okay? Hey, Liz? Tell the kids I’ll call them in the morning? Thanks. Bye-bye, Liz.”

“Damn.” Not directed at anyone in particular.

“Kids okay, babe?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, Sara skinned her knee…had to go into the magic Band-Aid routine. Gives her the giggles and she forgets what hurts. Hutch? I think Liz is feeling a little better today. Only threatened to cut my nuts off once. Progress, huh?”

“Starsk?”

“Just kiddin’, Hutch. Really. She’s still hurting, I still feel like a shit, but at least we got through a conversation. Kinda. Liz will be back on Monday, the kids are staying with Queenie and Jacob. I’m gonna meet her at the house around one or so.”

“Good, Starsk. That’s a good idea. Scared?”

“Only shitless.”

The partners sat quietly until Starsky stretched, shoulders pressing into the sofa. “In the meantime, blondie, we have almost two days to kill. ‘Wanna do anything?” Change the subject, Hutch, please…

Hutch swung one long naked leg over Starsky’s lap and straddled him.

“Two days and here we are on our honeymoon and you want to know if I want to do anything. You crazy, Starsk? When was the last time we made love?”

“Oh, that was yesterday, Hutch, hours ago. Barely remember it, but I think it was good.”

Hutch pinned Starsky to the sofa, taking his mouth and leaving him breathless.

“You think, Starsk? You think it was good? How about a reminder?”

Starsky laughed. “Sure, Hutch. But can we wait an hour or so? I’m hungry and I’m your guest, so you need to feed me now.”

“Feed you? What would you like to eat?” Hutch nuzzled his squirming partner’s ear. “How about some Hutchinson? That sound good?”

Starsky held his lover still and drank in the face so close before him. Hutch was damn gorgeous just out of bed. Blond hair every which way, cheeks flushed pink from his pillows, golden-red stubble that could never be called a shadow. Hutch’s morning erection pressed against Starsky’s lower abdomen, just below the waistband of his boxers. Starsky lifted his head from the sofa and kissed him, deeply and tenderly until Hutch moaned around Starsky’s tongue and Starsky broke off the kiss, circling Hutch with his arms, running soothing hands down his back, petting the soft mounds of Hutch’s ass. Hutch bucked against him, rubbing himself on Starsky’s belly.

“Lift up just a bit, Hutch, that’s it, let me at ya.”

Starsky fumbled with the front of his boxers, opening the fly and guiding Hutch’s erection inside to where his own cock waited.

“That good, Hutch? Nice and warm. Move, Hutch, move with me, come with me, babe.”

It didn’t take long, Hutch’s erection sensitive with morning need. Starsky’s own sensitive to what Hutch needed. Starsky’s boxers were relocated in the hamper and the lovers showered and dressed. Breakfast forgotten in favor of lunch.

“Hey, Starsk? It’s been what, less than a day and a half since you moved in with me?”

Starsky peered at Hutch over his second cup of coffee. “Sounds about right, blondie. You got a reason for asking?”

“No, just thinking that in that less than a day and a half, we’ve made love, what, three, four times? Both of us have come each time–I think last night we came twice–and right this minute, I could take you right back to bed and fuck you silly. That’s all, Starsk, just thinking.”

“Hutch? You gonna think all day?”

“You got plans, Starsk?”

“Maybe.”

“Like?”

“Like appreciating your thoughts.”

“Well, it is nice to be appreciated. Actually, Starsk, I’m thinking of shopping.”

“Shopping?”

“Yeah, you know, babe. Food, drink.”

“Dessert?”

“Whatever and whenever you want it, lover.”

That was enough. Starsky put his coffee cup down, moved behind Hutch and pulled his chair out from the table. Hutch laughed.

“What are you doing, Starsk?”

“Want dessert.”

“Now? Already?”

Starsky leaned in low and kissed his lover. When he finished the kiss, he climbed onto Hutch’s lap, straddling him and the chair. Hutch’s hands reached behind Starsky to grab tight to his ass. Starsky kissed him again and laughed into his mouth.

“Starsk? Somethin’ funny?”

“Hutch, there is no way in hell that I’m gonna get hard enough to make love again. Come on, blondie, let go of me. Tonight, let’s be like the rest of the world and have dessert after dinner. Deal?”

“If you insist, Starsk, I mean, I could certainly get hard right now. But, if you can’t, you can’t…”

Hutch’s voice went quite high on his second ‘you can’t’. Having one’s lover squeeze one’s balls in retaliation will do that.

“Hutch? Didn’t you say you wanted to go shopping? Come on you big softy, let’s go. Sorry, no pun intended, babe.”

“You know something, Starsk? Naughty kids get sent to bed without dessert.”

“Well, I suppose you know something about that, blondie…”

The doorbell rang.

“Ahh, saved by the bell. Want to get that, Starsk?”

“This is not over, Hutch…I was winning.” Starsky pulled the door open and froze. He should have known this was coming.

“Captain David Michael Starsky? This is for you. I am a process server, and you have been served.”

Hutch was right behind him, reaching around his side to gently push the door closed. Starsky just stood there, staring down at the papers in his hand. Hutch gathered him in his arms and whispered his words into Starsky’s hair.

“I’m sorry, Starsk. Hurts to see it in black and white, doesn’t it, babe?”

“I didn’t think it would, Hutch. Don’t even know why it does. But, yeah, it hurts. Aww shit, Hutch, I can’t even say how it hurts. It just does. I..I kind of feel like a failure, babe, like it’s true because somebody put it in writing. I’ve let a lot of people down. Even you.”

Hutch pulled back and turned Starsky around to face him.

“Me, Starsk?”

“Yeah, Hutch, you. Liz asked me a long time ago if I was cheatin’ on her. I told her no. Told myself it wasn’t a lie because I wasn’t sleeping with another woman. But I was sleeping with you, Hutch. Still adultery…”

“Shut up, Starsk. We’ve had this talk. Look at me.”

It took him half a minute to look Hutch in the eyes.

“Did you commit adultery by yourself, Starsk?”

“Hutch…”

“Don’t ‘Hutch’ me, dammit! Just answer my question. Did you commit adultery by yourself?”

“No.”

“Have I let you down, Starsk?”

“Of course not, Hutch, but it’s not the same! You’re not married.”

“Aww, Starsk, that doesn’t make it any less wrong on my part. Quit trying to take all of the blame, buddy, there’s plenty to go around. Starsk, come sit down with me for a minute.”

Hutch settled himself on the sofa, his back against the arm, inviting Starsky to sit between his legs and lie back on his chest. Hutch held his lover gently, waiting for his body to relax before he continued.

“That day at your cabin on the lake turned our lives around, Starsk. I could have told you no right then and there, love, but I didn’t want to once we started making love. No way I could have! And not just because I was caught up in the pleasure. It…it was like getting you back again, Starsk. Like when you came back to me after Gunther. Apart for all those years and all of a sudden we’re making love and it was all okay again, everything was right. My life felt so true. You were finally back where you belonged, loving me, wanting me to love you. You haven’t let me down, David. Not one bit. Takes two, babe..the good and the bad, it all takes two.”

Starsky turned in Hutch’s arms to lay his face on his chest.

“Oh, Hutch, I couldn’t have stopped either. As good as my life was, as much as I love my family, I couldn’t have stopped either. Hell, even before I kissed you that first time, there was no stopping. Someplace in my thick head, I think I knew what was going to happen at the cabin…making love to you was the most natural thing I’ve ever done. But…but it made a lot of other things I was doin’ with my life seem like mistakes.”

“Mistakes? No, Starsk…loving Liz, getting married…those weren’t mistakes. How could anything that brought us Kenny and Sarabet be a mistake? Jeri wasn’t a mistake either, babe. I loved her. But once I had you back, I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep on loving her, not the way she deserved to be loved. Starsk? When I was talking with Betina, she told me we should choose our battles, fight for the most important things. We can’t go back, I don’t want to, love. We’ve done what we’ve done, that part is over. Stop beating yourself up over it…for me? Please, Starsk. Let’s stay focused on our kids and on helping Liz and Jeri try to understand.”

“Yeah, I know you’re right, Hutch. Getting those papers just took the wind out of my sails, you know? Kind of like a book with a really unhappy ending I knew was coming, but I couldn’t put the damn book down.”

Hutch tensed beneath Starsky’s body. “Starsk?”

“Oh, damn, Hutch. I didn’t mean you’re an unhappy ending. Shit, we’re both so wired…I’m sorry, babe. Hutch?”

“It’s okay, Starsk. I know you didn’t mean anything about me. And you’re right, we are both wired. And, I know just what we need.”

“Again?” Starsky’s voice actually squeaked.

“No, dummy, not that. We need some kelp and vitamins, all blended up with some raw eggs and goat’s milk and…”

Starsky silenced his lover. First with a kiss, then with words.

“Stop, blondie! There are still some things about you that are too weird for me. I draw the line at healthy eating, anything beyond that is a flashback to our former lives. Forward, Hutch, we are moving forward. Now come on, we have shopping to do. We can drop the papers off with Quentin on the way. Don’t want to look at them all weekend.”

“Starsk, you haven’t even read them. Don’t you want to…”

“Doesn’t matter, Hutch. If Glenn Rupert drew those papers up, we already know what they say. We don’t need any more of that crap, let Quentin have them and decide what to do. He had a pretty good idea about siccin’ Gracie on him. Come on, blondie, let’s hit the stores. Need to stock up on goodies.”

“Goodies, Starsk?”

“Yep. My kids will be back soon and, Liz willing, they’ll be here for a visit. So, we need junk food and juice and some stuff they can play with while they’re here…maybe some coloring books and crayons. And Play-Doh and Silly Putty…stuff like that. Kid stuff, Hutch.”

“Well, you would know about that.”

“Very funny, blondie. You need to learn about it. Come on, your namesake loves junk food.”

“And worms, Starsk.”

“No, no, no, Hutch. His grandfather ate the worm, Kenny spit it out…”

Starsky picked up the papers from the process server and grew quiet again. Hutch watched him smooth and sharpen the fold lines, his facial muscles working hard over whatever he was thinking about. The face he turned to Hutch was worried, Adam’s apple bumping in his neck.

“Hutch? What if she says no?”

Starsky’s eyes begged Hutch to tell him Liz would never dream of such a thing. But Hutch couldn’t do that. Nor could he ever dash Starsky’s hopes.

“If Liz says no, we ask again, babe. We never stop. Come on, let’s go, Starsk. Talk to Liz on Monday and we’ll take it from there. That’s all we can do right now. Come on.”

“Yeah, Minnie, at least today and tomorrow. You can page me or try me at Hutch’s place…. I’m fine, Min, just need a few days.” Starsky listened for a minute. “Okay, I promise, I’ll call you tomorrow morning… You too, Minnie. Bye.”

“Minnie worried about you, Starsk?”

“Yep. Sure as hell knows something is up. Hey, Hutch…let’s tell Minnie, okay?”

“Sure you want to do that, babe? Might be putting Minnie on the spot at work.”

“You know somethin’? I think she already knows.” Starsky smiled at his lover. “It’ll be okay, Hutch–we got our feet wet with Quentin and Grace and Betina, may as well get wet to our knees. We’re gonna need all the friends we can get…let’s give Min first crack at it.”

“You’re right about that, buddy…if Minnie doesn’t still love us, who will?”

“Really.” Starsky pulled on jeans and a shirt and sat down next to Hutch on their bed. “Quentin need to see me before I go to the house?”

“No, just said to keep your temper and remember every little thing said.” Hutch gathered a fistful of Starsky’s shirt from behind and pulled him down on the bed. “Starsk, listen to me for a minute before you go. When I talked to Quentin he told me… Starsk, Rupert’s going right for our throats, he wants your parental rights severed immediately and me served with a restraining order. He’s already scheduled a hearing for Thursday to do that. Quentin’s been on the phone all morning trying to figure out a way to postpone it. If we go before a judge, chances are Rupert will win this one. And if that happens, babe, it’s not just the kids, but most likely your job, too.”

Starsky stared at the ceiling, quietly listening to his lover. Rolling onto his side, he traced a finger over the worry line that deepened between Hutch’s brows. “Not gonna happen, Hutch. Nobody will ever take my kids from me. Just like you said, Liz says no, we keep on askin’. And as far as the job goes, fuck it, Hutch. I can always get a job. I don’t care about that so much anymore.”

“Starsk…”

“No, Hutch. Look, I know you’re just trying to prepare me for the worst. That’s all well and good, babe, and I love you all the more for it ’cause I know you think it’s gonna hurt a little less hearin’ it from you first.” Starsky’s finger made the trip to Hutch’s lips. “There are two things I have to believe in with all my heart, Hutch. Two things I will never, ever let go of. One is you. The other is my kids. Nothing else matters. Now, come on, kiss me, babe, I have to get going.”

Starsky drove slowly through his old neighborhood, navigating around kids on bikes and moms with strollers heading for the park. Liz’s van was in the driveway and he could see she had opened windows to air out the house. He sat in his car for a few minutes feeling his heart pound. As scared as he had ever been. The front door was open, too, but it wasn’t his front door anymore. Starsky rang the bell.

“Dave.”

Liz was a shadow behind the dark screen door, her face invisible.

“May I come in, Liz?”

“Formal, aren’t we, Dave? Like strangers.”

“Yeah…yeah, Liz, it sorta feels that way. I’m sorry. Can I come in, Liz? So we can talk?”

The screen door latch was lifted and Liz walked away. Starsky followed, letting Liz decide where they would go. She hesitated at the living room and went on to the kitchen.

“Coffee?”

“Please.”

He got his first good look at her face when she set the coffee before him. Red-rimmed eyes, dark circles, tight lines around her mouth. All of the hurt right there on her face to see. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. Liz Starsky’s hand shook as she set the coffee down. Oh, sweetheart…

“Liz…Liz, I’m sorry,”

“For what, Dave?” Making him say it.

“Lying to you, hurting you, scaring you. I know I should have told you…I…I don’t know why I didn’t…”

Liz interrupted, tired green eyes flashing at him, her slender hand slapping the tabletop.

“Are you sorry about Ken, Dave?”

He looked right at her when he answered, knowing she would know before he said the word.

“No.”

Liz’s cry overflowed with anguish.

“I love you, Dave! I thought you loved me. A man, Dave? Not some silly young girl who doesn’t know any better, but a man? What the hell can Ken Hutchinson possibly give you? You’re a man, too, Dave. When I think about…”

“Don’t…don’t think about it. Listen to me, Liz. What’s between Hutch and me is a helluva lot more than sex. I don’t even know if I can put into words what Hutch means to me…what he’s always meant to me. Liz…I do love you…you were the best wife I could have asked for…but, Hutch is…he…”

He could barely hear Liz’s voice.

“He loves you more than I do, Dave. I didn’t think that was possible…but it’s true.”

“Liz…”

“No, Dave. Don’t. It’s true and we both know it.” Liz turned her back and was quiet for a minute, when she spoke again, her voice trembled. “My attorney wants to take the kids away from you, Dave. He can do it, you know.”

“Liz? Can you turn around and look at me and say that again? Look at me, Liz.”

She turned. Angry and defiant, she repeated herself.

“Could you really do that to Kenny and Sarabet, Liz? Is that what’s going to make you happy? Make you feel better about all of this? I love my children, Liz. You know that. And they love me.”

“I have to protect them!” Starsky could hear the desperation in Liz’s voice and let her go on, held back his retort. “Glenn talked to Kenny, asked…questions. Kenny told him you let Ken take him to the bathroom–that Ken saw him naked, Sarabet, too. How could you possibly expose our children to…”

“To what, Liz? To the care of a man their father trusts with all of our lives? Hutch would die before he let anything happen to our kids. Your attorney is a bigot, Liz, the kind of man you and I detest. We have gay friends, Liz. Do you let Rupert tell you they’re pedophiles and a danger to our kids? Or is it just Hutch? Because Hutch loves me? What the hell did you and that jackass attorney expose Kenny to?”

Liz started to cry.

“I just want you to hurt, Dave. Like I do, I can’t help it. Damn you, David Starsky. Damn you to hell.”

“Liz, Lizzy please. Don’t use the kids to do that, Liz. Don’t you see? You’ll be hurting them, too. What’s happened has nothing to do with our kids. Can’t we keep it that way, Liz? Please, honey.”

Misery hung over the yellow and white kitchen like a shroud. Liz stood at the counter, crying into her hands. Starsky wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and comfort her. Knowing he couldn’t, that he’d lost that right. He stood and moved to stand beside her, resting one hand on her arm.

“Liz?”

Liz pulled away as if burned.

“I…I don’t know if I can…if I’m strong enough. The kids…God, David, they’re just babies. They need their father…how could you… If you loved them…”

“I love my children, Liz. You know I do. I know they need me and I’m right here. If you’re asking me if I love Hutch more, the answer is no. And Hutch knows that. If you’re asking me to stay married because it’s the best thing for our kids, I won’t. Because it’s not the best thing, Liz. Could you ever want me again, Liz, knowing how much I love Hutch? Do you believe for a minute that our lives could ever be happy?”

Starsky walked to the window and looked out over the backyard. Listening to Liz cry, knowing he had asked questions she was afraid of hearing because the answers terrified her.

“Liz? I won’t choose between my kids and Hutch.”

“You just might have to, Dave.” The anger and defiance were back.

“No, honey, I won’t. Because you love those kids, too, Liz. You said it yourself, Lizzy. They need their dad. Please, Liz, don’t make our kids an issue. I don’t want to fight…”

“You selfish bastard! You don’t want to fight? You’ve been cheating on me, threw our marriage away, embarrassed me, exposed my kids to something they should never have to see…”

Starsky crossed the room and grabbed his wife by her upper arms. Furious. Not caring if she wanted him to touch her or not.

“Shut up! Dammit, Liz! Fine, I’m a selfish bastard, I agree with you. Yes, I cheated. I’ve told you I’m sorry and I am. Liz, I’m sorry! But don’t you ever say I’ve exposed our kids to something they should never have to see. All our kids will ever see between me and Hutch is that we love each other. There is nothing wrong with that, Liz. Christ, Liz…all that shit your attorney threw at us…you can’t possibly believe that? Do you honestly think for even a second that I would let anyone hurt my kids? That I could love someone who did? Come on, Liz! You know that’s not true. Don’t use the kids, Liz. Don’t.”

“They’re all I have to use, Dave.” Liz’s voice was tiny. “Even knowing that someday they’ll figure it out, that I took them away from their dad…they’re all I have to hurt you with.” Liz struggled halfheartedly against the hands that held her. “Isn’t it funny, Dave? The kids love you, Ken loves you, my parents…even my sister told me she wasn’t surprised about us, that I had never really had all of your heart.” Liz wiped angrily at her eyes. “Damn you! Why did you marry me? If Ken has always meant so much to you, why did you marry me?” Her struggles ceased and she allowed Starsky to hold her.

“I…I don’t know the answer to that, honey. I know I loved you, wanted to marry you, have our kids. When Hutch came back…we both realized…” Starsky fought back his own tears. “Lizzy, no matter how I try and explain it to you, it’s only going to hurt you more. Please, Liz, don’t ask me to do that. I’ve done what I’ve done, I can’t go back. Please, Liz.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Won’t. If you have to hear it, I won’t go back.”

Liz pulled back and looked up at Starsky through her tears.

“We were good, Dave.”

“Yes, Liz, we were good. But we’re not good for each other anymore. Honey, you’re going to be all right, even without me. I’ll take care of you and the kids, Liz, you know I will. I don’t want to spend our lives fighting and hurting each other. I don’t want to do that to our kids and I know you don’t either…”

Liz jerked away from him, her fury resurfacing at Starsky’s words.

“Don’t you ever say you know what I want and don’t want, Dave. How dare you even think you do!”

“All right, Liz, all right, I’m sorry if it sounded like that’s what I was trying to do, but I won’t back down about the kids…”

“What do you want from me, Dave? You’re the one who left. You’re the one doing all of the hurting, not me! What the hell am I supposed to tell Kenny and Sara? Daddy doesn’t love Mommy anymore, he loves Ken now and Daddy is going to live with Ken and not us. Daddy has decided he loves men…”

“Damn you, Liz. Stop it. I don’t love men; I love Hutch, only Hutch. And you and I will have to do what millions of other couples do and sit down and tell the kids together. It happens, Liz… Kenny and Sara have friends with divorced parents–they probably know more about divorce than we ever dreamed. I’m not saying that makes it better and I know they’re gonna hurt, but don’t make it any worse for them, please. Bring them home so we can talk to them together. Liz, do you want me to beg you for my kids? I will, if that’s what you want.”

Liz Starsky regarded her husband in silence. She did want him to beg, she wanted him to hurt like she did. Wanted all that made him secure ripped out from under him so that he could feel nothing but heartbreak and fear and loss. But somewhere deep under all of her own pain, she knew she had nothing left to fight for. David Starsky was no longer hers. Whatever she did to hurt him would only be revenge. He loved Hutch. The Hutch she had tried so hard to ignore all the years she and Dave had been together. Her own bitter feelings mocked her. What you were trying so hard not to see, Liz, was that they loved each other in a way you really could never compete with…your own sister saw it, but not you…he’s not yours…never has been…not completely…

“No, Dave, don’t beg.” The defeat in her voice hurt both of them. “Just give me some time, please, Dave? I…I need to talk to my parents and think…please, Dave. Give me that, please?”

“Liz…”

“No, no more today, Dave… See yourself out, okay? I’ll call you later…maybe in a couple of days…”

Liz left the room and Starsky followed, watching her climb the steps to the upstairs. He whispered good-bye to his wife and moved to the door, stopped one more time by Liz’s voice.

“Dave? I’m sorry about what I said on the phone about your breakdown… Glenn…well, you’re right about him. He just wouldn’t stop, Dave, and I was so angry…I hurt so bad. All the accusations about you and Hutch gave me something to hurt you with…that won’t happen again. Bye, Dave.”

Liz disappeared from Starsky’s sight and a second later he heard the bedroom door close and a few seconds after that heard Liz begin to sob. It was only a few minutes later that Starsky pulled over and parked his car under an old shade tree. He stared out the window for a long time before he realized his face was wet.

Hutch was out in the garden, just settling down with his guitar when Starsky got home. Dinnertime had come and gone, night was closing in. Hutch listened to his lover’s journey from car to house. Noting the very quiet closing of the house door, the rattle of ice, and the clink of a bottle against glass, followed in close order by a second clink. Celebrating by yourself, babe? Or drowning your sorrows? A light went on in the kitchen and Hutch studied Starsky, watched him down the second drink and go for a third. Watched him swirl the liquor in the glass and lean his rump against the countertop. Watched Starsky rub at his eyes and look around the room as if trying to figure out where he was. Starsky gazed out the window, looking right at Hutch, but Hutch knew he wasn’t seeing him. Sighing, Hutch made his way to the door and let himself in. Starsky didn’t acknowledge him.

“Starsk? Hey, buddy, how did it go? I was worried about you.”

Nothing.

“Starsk? Hey, come on.” Hutch took him by the shoulders. “Starsky! Look at me. Are you all right?”

The eyes that looked at Hutch were reddened and tired, eyes that had been crying. Troubled, haunted eyes.

“Starsk, what happened? Tell me, babe.”

Starsky’s eyes fell, but not before Hutch saw shame flutter across the blue. Starsky finally spoke, his gaze fixed on the drink in his hand.

“I hurt her so bad, Hutch. She cried almost the whole time I was there…her hands were shaking…she’s scared, Hutch, scared and hurting and I did it to her.”

“Starsk…” Starsky didn’t hear him.

“And when I left? She apologized to me, Hutch, apologized for bringing up my breakdown, said it wouldn’t happen again. Made me feel as much like a piece of shit as I am…”

“Starsk! You’re not…” “Stop, Hutch. I am. What the hell kind of man am I to do that to her? Oh, God, Hutch, she never did anything to deserve this. And there I was, thinkin’ I had the right to tell her what to do…what to think. I don’t have any rights, Hutch, none at all. Hutch? What am I going to do? You didn’t see her… Liz has always been so alive, so confident. She’s worn out, Hutch, defeated… I don’t think she’ll ever be able to understand. The kids…she just couldn’t help telling me over and over that her attorney was going to take my kids. She…she seems to understand what kind of man Rupert is, but at the same time she can’t let go of him. Hutch, that prick questioned Kenny about you takin’ him and Sarabet to the fuckin’ bathroom!” Starsky’s glass made sharp contact with the counter top. “God dammit, Hutch, I’m afraid for my kids, I’m afraid for Liz. I know what it’s like to be pushed over the edge…I don’t want that to happen to Liz. She’s so frail…confused about everything…one minute she was crying, the next screaming at me. I…I don’t know what to do.”

Hutch listened, heard Starsky out, and felt his insides turn over. Liz Starsky wasn’t the only frail, confused person involved. Her husband was too. The man adamant about his kids, adamant about Hutch himself, was lost in the pain he was responsible for. The Starsky before him wasn’t Starsky his lover and soul mate. This man was David Starsky, husband of Liz, being swallowed by guilt, torn up and suffering. Is this when I lose you, David? Return you like something I was never really supposed to have?

“David? What are you telling me?” Hutch could barely get the words out, his mouth thick and dry with his own fears. “Do you want to go back, Starsk?”

The hoped for denial didn’t come. Neither did any loving reassurances. Starsky’s head dropped to his chest, his muscles tense, fighting the tremors that racked his body. Hutch dropped his hands from Starsky’s arms and stepped back. He wanted to hold him, hit him, shake him. Tell him off, tell him he loved him…loved him so damn much. He did none of it. Hutch tilted Starsky’s head up with his fingers, pressing hard under the chin that fought him every inch of the way.

“I’m going to go do some work, Starsk. At least a couple of hours worth, there’s a plate in the fridge for you. If you’re going to drink yourself silly, you’d better eat.”

“That’s fine…I want to be alone, Hutch.”

“Yeah. Suit yourself.”

Hutch left the apartment with a slam of the door that managed to penetrate Starsky’s fog. Hutch didn’t hear the whispered ‘I’m sorry’, didn’t watch Starsky throw back his third drink and pour a fourth. Starsky took the bottle with him into the living room and settled into a chair. Hutch slid down the wall in the hallway and sat on the floor to wait. To wait and get angry enough to go back in and face Starsky. Angry enough that he would have some armor to protect him from the hurt he was convinced was waiting for him. I’ve lost you again, buddy, haven’t I? The chimes of Quentin Cohen’s old grandfather’s clock penetrated the doors that closed off the hallway, keeping and passing time. Hutch counted and listened and waited. Eleven…when I hear eleven chimes, I’ll go back, see where we’re at…

By eleven o’clock, Hutch’s anger had come and gone, replaced by weariness. Even the sadness was fuzzy around the edges now, his senses tired, too. Hutch wanted to shut down for the day, to sleep and see what tomorrow would bring. He wanted Starsky beside him. Groaning softly at the stiffness in his legs, Hutch rose and went back into his home. Starsky sat in the dark, the bottle beside his chair translucent in its emptiness.

“Starsk? Come to bed, babe, please, it’s late.”

Starsky didn’t respond–actually seemed to press himself further into the confines of his chair. The moon had taken refuge behind night clouds and shadows deepened into darkness. Hutch felt the chill that had crept into the room and shivered. He was tired and he wanted bed.

“Starsky? Hey, you gonna sit there all night?”

Still nothing. Hutch let out a sigh he fully intended Starsky to hear and moved to kneel at Starsky’s feet, resting his hands on Starsky’s thighs.

“Look, I think I know how you feel, but we can’t undo today. It was shitty and it hurt and I’m as sad about things right now as you are, Starsk. But tomorrow we start again, hope Liz has calmed down enough that we can talk some more. Come with me, David.”

Hutch lifted one hand to Starsky’s face, reaching for his mouth with his thumb, wanting to caress Starsky’s lips. Starsky turned his head away, denying the touch, pushing Hutch’s hand back.

“Stop it, Hutch. I told you. I want to be alone. Go on to bed.”

Short, clipped sentences. Each one a slap. Hutch got to his feet, planted his hands on the chair arms and got in Starsky’s face. Starsky muttered something under his breath and tried to push his way past Hutch’s arms only to find one large hand flat against his chest, holding him firmly in place.

“Hutch.” His voice filled with warning that Hutch chose to ignore.

“You pushing me away, Starsk? Don’t. You think you’re the only one in pain? You’re not. You seem to have forgotten that we’re in this together. You remember that, don’t you? Me? One of the two things in your life that you swore you would never let go of? Well, here I am. And I’m not going anywhere without you, not even as far as our bed.”

Long minutes passed. Hutch’s hand stayed put, pressed to Starsky’s chest, waiting patiently for the muscles below it to relax, for Starsky to respond. The tightness gradually left Starsky’s face, his features letting go, eyes looking for and finding Hutch’s. His body calmed under Hutch’s touch and when he finally spoke, his voice was ancient.

“Hutch? Hutch, I can’t stand that Liz hurts so much. I hate what she’s doing, what she says, all the threats. I understand it, I guess, but still… I’m afraid for my kids, Hutch. And I’m scared, babe, scared that my own kids will hate me…”

Hutch’s mouth found Starsky’s, kissing away further words, whispering against his fear. “Oh, love. No. I know your whole world seems like it’s spinning out of control. But I want you to listen to me, okay? Your kids will never hate you, they couldn’t. They’re going to be confused, probably scared. And we are, too, babe. Did you hear me, Starsk? We. We are scared and confused. Don’t push me away, David, let me help you.”

His touch wasn’t denied this time. His thumb allowed to rub across Starsky’s lips, pull the lower lip down and find teeth, be licked by the tongue that came out to meet it. Hutch parted Starsky’s knees, moving in between them, replacing his thumb with his lips, his own tongue finding Starsky’s, the two pushing and winding around each other. Starsky’s forehead met Hutch’s as he ended the kiss, his breath shuddering over Hutch’s face.

“I’m sorry, Hutch.”

“I know, I know, don’t say it. Will you come with me now? God, I love you so very much. Let me help you forget, let me love you. I need you, David. Need you to love me.”

Hutch stood and offered his hand and Starsky took it, pulling Hutch forward into his arms, finding his mouth, a gentle kiss that swelled with passion, demanding and giving and filling with want. And then it was Starsky who led the way to their bed, Starsky who stilled his lover’s hands and stripped him before undressing himself. Taking control, babe? Good, Starsk, we’ll make it so good… Starsky gathered Hutch close, pressing the lengths of their bodies together, finding his mouth again, sucking gently on Hutch’s lips and then his tongue, drawing him deep inside his mouth, giving Hutch his tongue in return. Engorged cocks were stroked and lined up, lovers finding the comfort waiting in each other.

Release came swiftly for both men, bodies rocking against each other until orgasms engulfed them. Both emotionally drained, Starsky, hazed by liquor–neither lasted long. Hutch curled around Starsky’s back, Starsky’s taste and smell and feel the last senses his body recognized as welcome sleep took over.

A few slaps at the alarm clock without results convinced Hutch something else was ringing. Lifting his head from the warm shoulder it rested upon, he deduced it was the phone and stretched over the body slumbering beneath him to answer it.

“H’lo?”

A few rustling sounds, then quiet.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

“Uncle Hutch? This is Kenny Starsky. Is my daddy there?”

“Yes, Kenny Starsky, your daddy is here.” Kenny giggled. “Would you like to speak with him? Yeah? Okay, Kenny, hold on, I’ll get him for you.” Starsky grunted at the knee that knocked against his own. “Starsk…wake up, buddy, it’s Kenny. Here’s your dad, Kenny.”

“Kenny? Hi, honey, what’s up?”

“I miss you, Daddy. Mommy’s not here, too. I heard Bub tell Gramp that you were at Uncle Hutch’s, so I called him. Is Mommy there, too, Daddy?”

“Mommy is at home, Kenny. Didn’t Mommy tell you where she was going?”

“Yes, Daddy, I think so, but Sarabet and me wanted to come home, too. But Bub said we had to wait. Daddy? Are you at home with Mommy?”

“Hang on, Kenny, don’t go anywhere, okay?”

Starsky scooted up to rest on the headboard, one hand reaching for Hutch, the other hanging on tightly to the phone.

“Kenny, Daddy is staying with Uncle Hutch. Where are Bub and Gramp, Kenny?”

“Bub is giving Sara a bath and Gramp went to Mr. McGee’s house. Daddy?” Kenny started to cry. “Daddy, Ellie Jensen’s mommy and daddy don’t live together anymore, too. Ellie says they got a d…divorce and her daddy went away.”

Starsky’s head fell against Hutch’s shoulder. Kenny, oh, my Kenny, Daddy is sorry, baby… “Kenny? I want you to listen to me. Daddy will never, ever go away. I promise you, Kenny. I love you and your sister more than anything in the world, Kenny. I love you, son. Okay, Kenny? Okay now?”

Starsky listened as his son drew in snuffled breaths and hicuppy sobs. After a few minutes, Kenny was back with another tough question.

“‘K, Daddy. Will you be home soon?”

He doesn’t really understand. He’s too little. Oh, Kenny. “Kenny, Daddy’s gonna see you real soon, sweetheart, just a few more days. Everything will be all right, son. I miss you, too, Kenny…hey, what do you want to do together, huh?”

“Can Sara and me come to Uncle Hutch’s house, too, Daddy? We could play in his yard and have a picnic and visit the nice Grace lady and that man. We had fun that last time.”

“You bet, Kenny, just let me make sure that’s all okay with Mommy, ‘k, son?”

“‘K, Daddy.”

“Kenny? Can you go see if Bub is done with Sarabet’s bath? I’d like to speak with her.”

“Sure, Daddy. Be right back…”

Starsky listened as Kenny ran for his grandmother–phone tossed on the table, feet running to the bathroom, an animated but muffled conversation, footsteps coming back, and a somewhat breathless message that his grandmother would be right there.

“Thanks, Kenny–hey, what’s your sister doing?”

“Getting dressed, Daddy.” Kenny’s voice was big brother proud. “Sarabet can get all dressed front-wards now, Daddy. I helped teach her.”

Starsky grinned from ear to ear. “Good, that’s great, Kenny. You take good care of your little sister, I’m proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you, too, Daddy. Bub’s here now, Daddy… Daddy? Can I call you at Uncle Hutch’s whenever I want?”

“Of course you can, Kenny. Anytime you want to. I love you, my big boy. Let me talk to Bub now?”

“Okay, Daddy. I love you. Bye-bye.”

“Hello, David. Quite a smart young man we have here! Read Ken’s name and number and dialed you all by himself.” Queenie quietly asked Kenny to go play with his sister before she continued. “Kenny is having a hard time, David. He needs to see you, but Liz is not doing so well yet with that. He’s had a few nightmares since she left. He needs to be home…Liz is so torn, David. That attorney of hers keeps upsetting her. Jacob is going to call her when he gets home…our friend Mr. McGee has an attorney son we think would be better. David? Kenny knows about you and Liz. We tried to keep it from him, but the little cookie figured it out. He needs to see you.”

“Damn, Queenie, oh, damn…I wanted to tell him…talk to him. I need to see him, too, Queenie. And Sara. Queenie, I have no right to ask, but please, will you talk to Liz? Kenny’s hurting–it’s not fair to him. I didn’t hear from Liz yesterday, Queenie and I’m worried. Please, Queenie.” Starsky realized he was begging, but then Queenie was the one woman in his life who wielded a heavier hand than Liz.

“You know I will, David. Now let me get…oh, Sarabet! Right back to that bathroom, young lady! Kenny, go with your sister, Bub will be right there. Tell me, David, how such a beautiful little girl gets so dirty so quickly? We’ll call back at dinner time and you can talk to Sara then, right now she needs another bath.”

“Well, Queenie, she is my daughter. That can explain a lot. I’ll call back. Queenie? Thank you…I don’t know that if I were in your position that I would even be talking to me.”

“I told you, David. There is no place in my world for hate. What would that change? The babies would only hurt more…we cannot do that to them. But don’t not understand something, David. Elizabeth is my daughter. When my child hurts, I hurt, just as you do for Kenny and Sara. I cry with my Elizabeth, I hurt with her, and I am afraid with her. I have been married to Jacob for more years than you have been alive and I have always known that he is my soul. Maybe with you and Liz…well, I think it just took you too long to realize that your soul is Ken. There is no way for you to have him without the hurt, David. That I can hate, son, the hurt I can hate, but not you. Now, let me go and clean up our Sara…sit tight, David. We will call back…”

Starsky passed the receiver to Hutch and sank back onto the bed, seeking out Hutch’s warmth to press against.

“What is it, Starsk? Kenny okay?”

“No…not really…he figured it out, Hutch…well, some of it. He knows his Mom and I are not together. He’s confused and scared and asking for me. Queenie’s gonna try and reason with Liz, see if we can’t work it out. Dammit, Hutch. Liz and I should have told the kids together…something they could understand…something Liz and I both agreed to. Seems like all I can do is run damage control. And I do a fuckin’ lousy job at that.”

Hutch wrapped Starsky in his arms and held on, letting him weather this latest storm in their shelter. Damage control. Certainly two words that should never apply to your own kids. “Hey, buddy, let’s wait and see what Liz has to say. Maybe I should knock on Quentin’s door…”

“No…no, Hutch, not yet. Give Queenie a shot at it first…she’s gonna call me back…I start threatening Liz with legal stuff, she’ll just sic Rupert on us again. That reminds me…Queenie and Jacob are going to try and talk Liz into a different attorney. If only Liz could see the big picture, babe. She’s so damn fragile right now and that bastard Rupert really knows how to push her buttons…wish to hell she could see that he’s using her.”

“She will, Starsk, gotta be harder than hell for her.” Hutch rested his cheek against the curls in front of him. “I’m sorry, love.”

Starsky shook his head and breathed into Hutch’s hair, feeling its silky fineness with his lips, silently telling him he had nothing to apologize for. “Hutch…Queenie told me that it took me too long to realize that you are my soul.”

Hutch raised himself up on his elbows and kissed the face before him. “Maybe, David, maybe that’s true in one way.” Starsky’s eyebrows lifted, asking Hutch to explain. “What I mean is…maybe we took too long to realize how in love we really are and how we can express that love physically…or maybe we always knew and were too scared to act on it. But I think you’ve always been my soul and I’ve always been yours. Maybe Queenie has been so blessed in her relationship with Jacob that she sees being each other’s soul as a whole package, Starsk. The spiritual and the sexual going hand in hand.

“Starsk, I know you’re hurting because of Kenny. I’m not sure I even know what to say to you. You have hurts in your life that I’ve never experienced, babe…having your kids hurt. Hell, Starsk, it seems like the only comfort I can offer you is physical. I just want to hold you and make it all go away, but I can’t make it go away, we both know that.” Hutch pulled the blankets over their shoulders, his need to comfort his lover washing warmly through his body. “Starsk, I hate seeing you hurt. Come closer, babe, let me hold you.”

They talked quietly for a while. First about Starsky’s kids–Hutch listening and learning–until Starsky was talked out and ready to move on. Brief words about Liz. About wanting her to be okay, both for the kids’ sake and her own. Hutch kissed his lover in the warmth of their bed, his love for Starsky filling his mind and body. “Starsk? Is it all right? I mean…”

Starsky smiled at him. Pushed Hutch’s hair back from his forehead and kissed the worried crease there. You need it, too, don’t you Hutch? Need to feel what’s between our souls… “S’what I need, Hutch…what I’ll always need… You lovin’ me. Love me, Hutch? Let me love you?”

Hands moved below the blankets petting gently at hips and thighs, tickling over rib cages, pinching tenderly at nipples. Their penises filled and bobbed between them, seeking touch. Their bodies shifted closer, cocks making contact, playing and rubbing while the men they were attached to kissed deeply and fondled backs and ass cheeks. Their bodies shifted again and hands snaked down between them, fondling balls and caressing soft sacs. When the sacs drew up tight, the hands moved on to cocks, stroking and rubbing and pumping until two hands and two bellies were bathed in semen. Starsky rolled onto his back and pulled Hutch on top of him, legs spread wide to accommodate his lover’s body, hands tracing idle patterns on the smooth, broad back.

“Hutch? I love you, Hutch.”

“I know you do, David.”

Starsky pulled Hutch’s head down and kissed him deeply. Hutch pulled back to find tears in his lover’s eyes.

“Babe? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Hutch. Just takes me away to feel your body sayin’ what my heart is feeling. To be holdin’ my soul in my arms and loving him… I love you, Kenneth Hutchinson, and I will always love you. Hold me, Hutch, please? Hold my soul in your arms and your heart. This is where I want to be, Hutch, for always.”

Hutch lifted himself off of Starsky and rolled to his back, pulling Starsky to his chest, circling him with arms and long legs, nestling Starsky’s dark curls between his shoulder and chin and holding him tightly. “I live for you, David. I live because of you. For always, my love, in all ways. Rest now, Starsk, I’ve got you, I’m here…right here…”

Sleep was interrupted by a knock on the apartment door. Easing Starsky aside, Hutch grabbed his jeans and headed off to see who it was. Starsky propped himself up on his elbows and listened as Hutch greeted Quentin. An excited exchange of words followed and suddenly Quentin’s head popped into the doorway. Hutch slipped past Quentin, grinning like a fool at Starsky.

“Queenie and Jacob work fast, babe. Liz just fired Glenn Rupert.”

Starsky looked from one man to the other, dumbfounded and relieved and taking his turn at grinning like a fool.

“Quentin, who called you?”

“Rupert himself, David. Wished me luck, called you two more than a few choice names, and finally shut his trap when I told him I was suing him for slander. Seems Rupert’s law firm has settled on several slander suits thanks to him. One more and he’ll be trying to collect from skinhead deadbeats on his own. Congratulations, gentlemen, this is a big victory.”

“Quentin? What…what about tomorrow?”

“Off the calendar, David. There will be no hearing to terminate your parental rights, no restraining order against Ken.”

Starsky fell back to the bed with a whoop of happy relief, muttering a few Yiddish terms that had Quentin laughing with him. Starsky grabbed the bed sheet and wrapped it around himself with one hand, reaching for Hutch with the other, pulling him into a kiss, not giving a damn who was watching. The who who was watching from the doorway didn’t give a damn either. This was big. Quentin Cohen knew without a doubt that Thursday’s hearing would have sealed David Starsky’s fate with his children, cost him his job, and possibly his sanity. And if Ken lost David to that, Ken would be lost, too. Quentin watched indulgently as the two men celebrated. If either was embarrassed about being demonstrative in front of him, they didn’t show it. Hutch settled on the edge of the bed, holding Starsky loosely in his arms, both men turning their attention back to Quentin.

Starsky’s smile faded when he asked his next question. “Quentin…doesn’t this just mean we’ll be starting over with a new opponent? I mean, who’s to say Liz’s new attorney won’t dish up more of the same?”

“Won’t happen, David. I know this young man…in fact, his ethics and standards remind me very much of Ken’s. Alex McGee is young, liberal, and what we old timers patiently call too tolerant for his own good. The laws are going to change someday, and Alex McGee will be on the forefront. I’m not saying for even a second that he’ll make it easy on us. There will still be hell to pay as far as property settlement, alimony, and child support go, but, McGee will be fair. If Liz listens to him, and takes his advice, Kenny and Sarabet will be seeing their father on a regular basis. McGee has already established a ‘for the kids’ reputation. This is good, David. In fact, I can’t see us getting a better chance. Now haul your asses off of that bed and get dressed. Today is going to be pivotal–Ken tells me you’re waiting to hear from your mother-in-law.” Quentin grinned at Starsky. “I may have to hire that woman, she and Gracie would make quite a pair.”

They were quiet with one another the rest of the morning. The comfort of silence and passing caresses all that were needed between them. Starsky wandered out onto the patio and stretched out on a lounge chair and listened and drowsed as Hutch sang softly to accompany his guitar. The telephone that had sat so damningly quiet finally rang shortly after noon. Hutch looked up from his guitar, but didn’t move. Starsky answered and Hutch watched him. Watched the smile break over his face and felt the tension drain from Starsky’s body as if it were his own. Something more had happened. Something good.

“Hutch? Hutch, they’re coming home! Queenie and Jacob are coming along and staying with Liz for a while. The kids will be here on Friday afternoon. Kenny asked Liz if he and Sara could stay over… Hutch, she said yes! Did you hear me, Hutch? My kids are coming home!” Starsky abruptly stopped talking and stared at Hutch wide eyed. The past four days had seen his world torn apart and a new one beginning to be built. Memories he thought he had buried and left behind had crowded back into his life, had been faced and put away again, all with Hutch’s loving help. He had felt fears he thought unimaginable about his kids, fears that had dragged him down to the bottom. And now his kids were coming home and the news was sinking into his heart and turning his knees to jelly. “Hutch?” Long, familiar arms lowered him to the floor and cradled him and David Starsky wept in the embrace of his lover.

Starsky stood back and surveyed his work. Books had been relocated to a higher shelf, baskets of toys for Sarabet and Kenny taking their place. Satisfied, he brushed his hands off on his butt and wandered into the kitchen.

“You about done with that, Hutch? You know, it would have been a helluva lot easier to just buy the Play-Doh in those little cans.”

“This is better. No chemicals.”

“This,” Starsky gingerly lifted one, dye-stained Hutchinson hand in the air, “is messy. And what color is that supposed to be?”

“Blue.”

“S’not blue, babe. Your eyes are blue, my eyes are blue. That is not blue.”

“Okay, okay. Greeny, bluey…”

“Gray. It’s gray. Play-Doh does not come in gray.”

Hutch gave Starsky a look of exasperation and calmly told him to fuck off and get the plastic wrap down so he could wrap up his homemade version of Play-Doh.

“Kenny and Sara will love this, Starsk. Every color they need. All made just for them by their favorite uncle.” A multicolored finger stabbed at Starsky’s chest. “Don’t ruin this for me, Starsk.”

Starsky watched as Hutch carefully wrapped and sealed each lump of colored dough. The lumps made their way into a box he slipped under the kitchen sink. All set. Now all we need is my kids. Gotta love you for this one, Hutch. Hutch was quiet, staring at the counter top in front of him. Dyed red and yellow and blue and everything in between. He idly traced a finger through the mess, meshing the colors into little bits of design. Starsky moved behind him and rested his head between Hutch’s shoulder blades.

“Hutch? What’s goin’ on in that blond head of yours?”

“Thinking about the kids, babe. How much we love them and want them. How much I want to do this for the rest of my life. With you, David, I want to do this with you. I want to make Play-Doh and pick out coloring books and follow the kid who asks Sara to prom for a week before we let her say yes. I want to teach Kenny and Wisp to play ball and fish and drive a car. I want to be a father, Starsk.” Hutch finally turned and smiled at his lover. “It isn’t just you and me anymore, babe. It’s you and me and kids. We’re a family. Come here, love.”

Starsky settled into the arms that opened for him. Didn’t even complain about the tiny bits of dough Hutch’s fingers were depositing in his hair. Couldn’t have cared less about the fingerprints left on his shirt. David Starsky was loved. His children were loved, and the little boy on his way was loved, too. All of them loved by the man holding him in his arms. By Hutch.

“Who would have thought, huh, Hutch? You and me raising kids, bein’ lovers…well, I guess lots of people thought that all along.” Starsky laughed and pulled back from Hutch and anchored his hands in Hutch’s hair. “We are a family, babe, all tied up together, warts and all. You told me things would work out…I just never imagined it would be so soon. I was afraid, babe, afraid our lives were gonna be hell for a long time…maybe even forever. Now…well, I’m not so scared anymore. It’s because of you, Hutch. I couldn’t have done this without you–probably be back in the loony bin by now if I was on my own.” Hutch shushed him, Starsky’s reference to his breakdown still cutting despite his choice of words. “You know something, blintz? It never even occurred to me to ask you if havin’ my kids here was okay with you. I think that’s because I know how much you love us, babe.” Starsky kissed his lover. “With you and me, that’s the only way things could be. A given. You and me and Kenny and Sara and Wisp. I can’t wait to hold your boy, Hutch. I love him already. And I love his father, babe, love you so much.”

Starsky kissed him again, Hutch gone all soft in his arms with love and expectations. They hadn’t talked too much about Hutch’s child since Hutch’s call to Jeri. Hutch had thrown all of his energy into Starsky’s troubles. Had supported and taken care of his lover. Starsky pulled back and studied Hutch’s face and was acutely aware in that moment that Hutch had put his own life on the back burner, once again, for his sake. Liquid blue eyes, a little too bright and pinched just a bit at the corners, stared back at him, and Starsky chastised himself for not seeing before now how tired his lover was. All the worry in those eyes wasn’t just for Starsky and his kids, not anymore. Hutch had said it himself. He wanted to be a father. That he included Starsky’s children under that umbrella, that he wanted to parent Kenny and Sarabet side by side with him, lifted Starsky’s heart to a place he hadn’t known existed. And in that place, he knew that his children would be cared for and loved and watched over, always, by Hutch. In that knowledge, David Starsky found peace. And in Hutch’s tired eyes, he found longing for the little boy yet to be born and a myriad of unsettling emotions that reflected back at him all he had faced and overcome with Hutch. Hutch…I promised you, babe…you’ll hold your boy…

“Hutch?”

“Yeah, love?”

“Will you do something for me?” Because doing it for me is the same as doing it for yourself.

“What’s that?”

“Call Jeri.”

“Starsk…I don’t…”

“Ask her to meet with you, babe…please, Hutch, you need to talk together about Wisp. Please, just call her. She needs to know how much you want to be a father. She’ll see it in you, Hutch, just like I do. You’re going to make a great dad, babe, couldn’t be better.” Hutch started to speak, but Starsky’s mouth cut him off. “We have to fight for Wisp, too, Hutch. He has to know how much you want him. How much we both want him.”

Hutch pulled back and looked at the determined face before him. Determined for him, there for him. “Oh, Starsk. God, how I love you.” Hutch arms tightened hard around Starsky. Their lips met and opened and sealed their pact to fight for Hutch’s boy. Hutch glanced at the clock as soon as Starsky allowed him to breathe.

“It’s just two-thirty now, Starsk…Jeri will be in court until four. I’ll call her at home around six. Okay, buddy?”

“Okay…good.” Starsky found his lover’s mouth again, caressing Hutch’s lips with his tongue as his hands busied themselves untucking Hutch’s shirt and stroking the smooth skin below it. “Hutch…let me take you to bed, babe. Let me take you to that place you’ve been takin’ me to. All I want you to think about is how good I’m makin’ you feel. Come on, come on with me.”

Clothes were shed on the way to the bedroom. Starsky stopped them at the side of the bed and gathered Hutch close with arms and mouth. “Lay down for me, Hutch. Lay down and let me love you…that’s it, lover…look how beautiful you are…”

Starsky worked his way from tender to gentle to biting and back again, covering every inch of the body trembling beneath his touch. Moving Hutch this way and turning him that way, bending a knee, lifting an arm, seeking and finding every spot on Hutch’s body that he cherished. He swallowed Hutch’s cock, coaxing and guiding Hutch’s hips to thrust until he came with his balls at Starsky’s chin. Starsky drank and washed his lover’s penis until he felt Hutch shudder at the sensation and released him from his mouth. Hutch was turned belly down and Starsky started anew with his mouth and hands, moving down from broad shoulders, tracing every knobby turn along Hutch’s spine, working the lean buttocks until Hutch spread his legs wide with wanting. Hands snaked under Hutch’s hips and lifted him, soft curls tickled along the creases where ass met thigh, a warm breath across his skin, and then Starsky’s tongue was at his center, licking and probing until it was allowed in. Starsky’s hands moved again, finding Hutch’s balls and cock and belly, roaming upward to pinch a nipple, tickling back down, Hutch squirming against Starsky’s face at the sensation.

“Hutch, I’m gonna take you now, babe. Want you to feel my cock knockin’ at your heart. I’m coatin’ myself with our wetness, Hutch…feel me? I’m right there. I love you, Hutch.”

Hutch was impaled with one deep stroke. Impaled and held still until his body accepted Starsky. Until Hutch could feel Starsky’s penis thrumming inside him and moved his body in response to signal he was ready for more. Starsky was gentle with his lover, pulling out and taking Hutch again, slow and easy, over and over until Hutch’s muscles clutched him hard and demanded more. He changed his pace, letting Hutch’s body guide him and tell him when to thrust fast and hard. Starsky’s hand joined Hutch’s around his erection, the two of them pumping hard, stilling at the same moment as they came together. Collapsing to the bed below them, holding each other face-to-face. Hands roaming and soothing, kisses soft in between murmured endearments. They fell asleep that way, arms draped loosely over each other, knees knocking, their lips a whispered word apart.

Lips pressing at his own woke Hutch. Lips and a tongue and breaths all greeting his mouth. Hutch laughed when he felt the lips turn upward in a huge grin and teeth knock gently against his own. Starsky was happy this Friday morning. His kids were coming home.

“Mornin’, babe.”

“Mornin’ yourself. You plan on stayin’ in bed all day, blondie? Come on…come on, we have things to do.”

Hutch allowed himself to be pulled halfway off the bed before he turned the tables and pulled Starsky down beside him. Objections were cut off by Hutch’s wide mouth.

“Been a bad few days, love. Nice to see you smile.”

Starsky ducked his head, his fingers idly pushing at the blankets before making their way to tease the hairs on Hutch’s forearm. The face he lifted to his lover was still smiling brightly, albeit through tears.

“How could I not be smilin’, huh? Watching you sleep, all wrapped up in our bed. Knowing you’re mine, Hutch. Knowin’ that in a few hours I’ll be holdin’ my kids.” Fingers carded through Hutch’s messy morning hair, soothing the beloved blond strands back into place, stroking across Hutch’s cheek to feel the soft stubble of beard, finally coming to rest over Hutch’s heart. Starsky looked at Hutch, started to speak, but fell silent, struggling with his thoughts, his smile fading.

“Starsk? What is it?” Hutch pressed his hand over the hand pressed to his heart and waited.

“Damn, Hutch…it’s just… When you were talkin’ to Jeri yesterday and she didn’t say yes to you being in Wisp’s life…”

Hutch cut him off. “She didn’t say no either, babe. She just needs more time. Believe me, she was even more receptive than the last time we spoke.” Hutch shifted his body to lean on the headboard and settled Starsky in the V of his legs. “Haddon has dropped out of sight, she’s feeling real good about that. Not a peep since the restraining order was served. She’s having a hard time with her father, though…he wants her to give the baby up for adoption.”

Starsky’s back pressed hard against Hutch’s chest. “Why didn’t you tell me that last night, Hutch?”

“Because it’s not going to happen, Starsk. And you don’t need to worry about it…there’s enough going on in your life…”

Starsky took his turn at cutting Hutch off, angling his head so that he could see his lover’s eyes.

“Hey, what goes on in your life, goes on in mine. Jeri didn’t say she was even thinkin’ about that, did she, Hutch? I mean, you wouldn’t let…”

“No, Starsk, no, she’s not. Old man Eastman is ticked off that Jeri is having her baby without the benefit of a husband. Guess he hit the ceiling when he heard I was the father–went so far as to say she’d be better off with John Haddon. Things are overwhelming for her right now, Starsk…she’s going to leave her father’s firm and go out on her own.” The morning sun slipped behind a cloud, casting the room in shadows and stealing away its warmth. Starsky inched closer to Hutch, pulling blankets along with him to cover the long legs that cradled his body. Hutch was quiet for a few minutes, not speaking again until his cheek was resting against Starsky’s head. “Jeri named him, Starsk. Kiernan. My son’s name will be Kiernan. God, I want to be there when he’s born. Dammit, babe! I can’t do anything about it–it’s all up to Jeri.”

Starsky sat up and turned so that he was kneeling between Hutch’s legs. Long fingers caressed Hutch’s face, tilting his chin to look into Starsky’s eyes. “Hutch, we don’t give up on Wisp and we don’t give up on Jeri. It’s gonna all work out, blintz, I know it is.” Starsky smiled at Hutch’s less than positive expression. “It will, Hutch, I’ve got a feeling. And you know when it comes to you, my feelings are always right.” Starsky took time out to lean forward and kiss the smile he had brought to Hutch’s mouth, started to pull back and thought better of it. He took Hutch’s mouth again, putting his arms around the still sleep-warmed skin of Hutch’s back and pulling Hutch into his arms. “Kiernan…that’s a good strong name for our Wisp. Kiernan Hutchinson. I like it, Hutch.” Hutch relaxed in Starsky’s embrace, thinking how much he liked hearing his lover say his son’s name. “It’s gonna be okay, babe, long as we have us, it’s gonna be okay.”

The morning passed quickly, a fast trip to pick up sleeping bags and extra pillows, another junk food run–this one augmented with Hutch’s choices for dinner–and all they had left to do was wait. Quentin and Grace were at the door at quarter to three to wait with them, Quentin determined to see that things went smoothly. Alex McGee had delivered a tentative property settlement just yesterday. Tentative only to Quentin and McGee. David Starsky had agreed to every demand. Liz was to have their main home, seventy percent of all joint assets, an equal share in the A-frame in Frazier, and alimony to be paid for ten years or until she remarried. Starsky’s children would be willingly provided for through college. Custody and visitation provisions had not been broached in the documents and Quentin had, with little avail, urged Starsky to wait and see what McGee would propose, silenced first by Starsky and then Hutch. There was nothing to fight about. Money and property were not issues, not the battles they chose to fight. Quentin’s quiet respect for Hutch and Starsky grew. He knew they would be happy living in a shoebox, if they just had their kids.

Shortly before three, a tire squealed against the curb out front of 426 Hibiscus. Starsky grinned and announced; “Jacob is driving.” A quick hug from Hutch and Starsky was out the door. Queenie emerged first, and with a wave to Starsky opened the rear door of her and Jacob’s ancient Continental. Sarabet squirmed her way out, blinking sleepily from what must have been a nap during the ride, and spied her father.

“Daddy!”

A whirl of pink sun dress and white sandals and long curls and Sarabet was in Starsky’s arms, covering his face with kisses, bare little arms circling his neck. Starsky swooped his daughter into the air, laughing and calling to her. Telling his Sarabet that he loved her and missed her and was happy to see her. Sara giggled and spotted Hutch waiting by the house. Starsky’s face was squeezed between tiny hands, kissed one more time, and Sara was off to give Hutch his turn. Starsky grinned and melted and watched until Sara was settled on Hutch’s arm, her head on his shoulder and thumb in her mouth, staring at her grandparents’ car. Her gaze compelled Starsky to turn and there was Kenny. Holding tightly to Queenie’s hand, looking everywhere but at his father. Starsky moved halfway down the walk and kneeled down, waiting for his son to come to him. Queenie whispered in Kenny’s ear, but the little boy stayed put, fixing his eyes on the sidewalk and his hands on his grandmother’s skirt.

“Kenny? Sweetheart, can you come to Daddy? I’ve missed you, son. Kenny?”

Kenny’s green eyes darted up for just a few seconds, then quickly away. But not before his father saw the anger that sparked there. Like looking into Liz’s eyes…Liz’s eyes in my face…

“Kenny, please come to me.” No response. “Kenny? Are you mad at Daddy? Will you come talk to me, Kenny?”

Kenny silently shook his head no, and Starsky felt his heart break a little. Jacob joined Queenie, talking quietly to his grandson. Starsky waited and watched as Kenny nodded his head and took his grandfather’s hand and started up the sidewalk. Halfway to his father, Kenny finally looked up and started to cry and then he was in Starsky’s embrace, sobbing into his father’s shoulder. Starsky held his child close, whispering comfort into Kenny’s soft hair and rocking the little boy. Queenie and Jacob approached, tears coursing down their weathered and wrinkled faces. Queenie’s hand found Starsky’s tangled in Kenny’s hair and squeezed gently, drawing Starsky’s eyes up, speaking as usual for her husband and herself.

“Take your children inside and talk to them, David. Tell them how you feel–don’t let them get away from you–they have to know that none of this is their fault. Especially our Kenny here–so much his father, carrying the world on his shoulders. Love them these two days, David, love them to pieces as you always have. Jacob and I will be here for them tomorrow evening. Kenny? Are you all right now, my boy? You have people waiting to see you, love, take your sister inside. Daddy will be right there.” Queenie hugged her grandson and kissed his forehead before sending him to Hutch with a pat on his bottom. “David, walk to the car with us?”

Starsky watched from the sidewalk as Hutch took his children inside. Grace followed pulling Quentin along, leaving Starsky with Queenie and Jacob. Starsky could just make out Grace’s whispered words. “Leave them, Quentin, those people would never hurt David. Come inside now…”

“David? Ah, David, Kenny doesn’t know what to do with himself–try not to take it to heart. He’s protecting his mother the only way he knows how, by being angry with you, David. But he loves you too much to stay that way…our Kenny is learning that love isn’t something you can just turn off. I think that you’ve learned that, too, son.” Queenie stroked Starsky’s face with one crooked finger. “I think we’ve all learned that. Now go, David, take your children into your arms and keep them safe.”

Starsky leaned down to hug Queenie, her body a feather in his arms. So slight, yet so very strong. He whispered in her ear that he loved her and hoped she knew how much she meant to him. Straightening, he found Jacob’s eyes and held out his hand.

“Jacob. We haven’t spoken since…since I left. I’m sorry for hurting Liz, Jacob.” Simple words he knew could never make up for all that had happened. Simple words he was blessed to have accepted by Liz’s father.

“I know you are sorry, David, we none of us are perfect, we can only go on with life without bitterness and ask for forgiveness in the end.” Jacob leaned forward and laid his cheek against Starsky’s, as was his custom with his own sons. “Life goes on, David, as shall we.”

“Thank you, Jacob. I…I…” Starsky could go no further, his words catching in his mouth.

“You don’t need to say anymore, David, we know you, we know the man you are. That is no different. Some things in life we cannot change. Acceptance is hard, but we must do it.” Jacob released Starsky’s hand and made his way to the driver’s door. His last words were said over the Continental’s roof. “Don’t be a stranger, David. Your children need to know that we all make up their family. That we can all be together for them.”

Starsky nodded his good-bye to Jacob and turned to Queenie. He had to ask. “Liz? Is she going to be all right?”

“Let us just say that Liz can’t turn the love off either. Or the anger. She is struggling, David. Alex McGee has done her a world of good, but still, she hurts…she will for a while. She is thinking of her children, David…that is why the babies are here with you. It has only been a week, David, she needs time, as we all do.” Queenie squeezed Starsky’s arm. “Jacob and I must get back now.”

Starsky helped Queenie tuck herself into the vast front seat of the Continental, squatting down beside the open door for a few last words.

“Queenie…Jacob, thank you both. If Liz wants to call the kids…well, just tell her that’s fine. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Good-bye, David. Now go. Enjoy your children.”

Jeri Eastman wandered aimlessly through the stacks of file boxes that were scattered about her office at Smith, Diggs, and Eastman. Moving day was tomorrow. Away from her father and his partners, away from what she knew was a dream position for a woman of her age. Her new office would be in her home, taking up the wasted space in the fourth bedroom. Stacking the last of her files in the last of the empty boxes, she arched her shoulders and reached around to rub her back. Her reflection stared back at her from the long picture window that overlooked the city. She laughed at herself–pregnant out to there, swollen ankles, hair tied back in a messy ponytail. Some glamour girl you are, Ms. Eastman. Should have hired some help…or called a friend… Someone like Ken Hutchinson. Ken would have come and helped if you had just asked him. Ken would still be your friend if you let him. And a father. She knew how badly he wanted to be a father. He’d made that very clear over the phone, the longing in his voice making her want to cry. Damn, Ken. I couldn’t do anything to take David Starsky away from you…didn’t want to do that at all once I got over some of the humiliation. And now, here I am with another choice to make, whether or not our child has a daddy. Jeri Eastman closed up the last box and wearily grabbed her car keys.

The scene through the window was breathtaking and heartbreaking in the same moment. Two plump, sleepy bodies, cradled and cuddled–one held by the man he was named for, the other by her father. Jeri watched as Kenny ran one small finger across Hutch’s mustache and then traced his own upper lip. Hutch said something to the child and Starsky and Sarabet laughed while Kenny buried his face in Hutch’s shoulder. Hutch kissed the top of the little boy’s auburn head and he and Starsky settled into the overstuffed chairs that flanked the fireplace. It didn’t take long. The children fell asleep in the arms that held them, followed shortly by their father and Uncle Hutch.

Her baby rolled in her womb and Jeri stroked her belly, soothing the life within. Starsky stirred in his chair and scrunched down enough that his legs could reach the chair opposite him. Resting his feet alongside Hutch’s thigh, he smiled tenderly at his sleeping partner and dropped back to sleep. Tears ran down Jeri’s face as she realized she hadn’t really lost Ken, had never really had him. Ken Hutchinson belonged to someone else, always had. The love between him and David Starsky wasn’t even something she could be jealous of. She was awed by it and craved it, but knew she would have to find it with someone else. Ken Hutchinson was taken, heart and soul. Monday she would call him and arrange to meet with him. To talk and to invite him to share their child’s life.

“Starsk? How about joining me for a run? Come on, old man, clear your mind, get things pumping.”

Starsky glared at the picture of health that had chosen the very early hours of breaking dawn to be wide-awake and damningly cheerful. And damningly beautiful. And damningly forgetful of the two very minor children sound asleep on either end of the sofa in the living room. You need a little practice at this parenting thing, blondie.

“Hutch, com’ere.” Starsky scooted to the center of the bed, patting an invite on the mattress. Holding back a smile, he stated the obvious as evenly as he could.

“Forgetting something?”

Hutch looked like he was thinking hard, checked to make sure he was wearing shorts with his running shoes, and shrugged at Starsky.

“What?”

Starsky gave a very exaggerated sigh and climbed out of bed. Taking Hutch by the hand, he led the way into the living room and waited.

“Shit!”

“Yep.”

“Starsk…I…”

Starsky couldn’t resist playing. “Aren’t they beautiful, Hutch? Kenny looks like he’s grown a few inches…getting those knobby knees. And Sarabet…Sarabet’s gonna need some watching when she gets older. She’s a beauty, my Sara.” Starsky turned back to Hutch, holding back the laugh that wanted to come out when he saw that Hutch’s expression hadn’t changed since he uttered the word ‘shit’. Wide-eyed, horrified, and embarrassed just about covered it. Starsky gave in and laughed, pulling Hutch back to the bedroom and closing the door. “Know somethin’, blintz? I can guarantee you that in forty-five minutes, we are going to have two very hungry children to feed. So, you go for your run, and I’ll get the pancake batter ready. Deal?”

“Starsk…I almost left your kids alone in a strange house! Aren’t you mad? Dammit, Starsk, I’m sorry.”

Starsky wasn’t finished. Not just yet. “Well, Hutch, I’m on occasion a betting man. And I bet that when you walked through that living room you would have noticed two kids sleepin’ on the sofa and changed your mind about goin’ for a run. Maybe, and I’m still betting here, you might have walked through the living room first thing when you woke up, noticed the kids, slipped back into bed, woke me up and told me you were goin’ for a run, alone, and I never would have known you forgot my kids were sleepin’ on the sofa. That about cover it, Hutch?”

Hutch managed to look indignant and informed Starsky that he would have lost half of his bet.

“Why’s that, blondie?”

“As if you don’t know.”

“You tellin’ me you wouldn’t go for a run, or you wouldn’t wake me up?”

“Oh, I’d wake you up, Starsk, and I’d take your word for it that we had forty-five minutes to spare before the kids woke up. And in that forty-five minutes, I would have made love to you, had us both showered and dressed, and had the pancake batter ready.”

Hutch grinned at his partner, running a finger from Starsky’s chin to his navel, stopping there to explore and wait for Starsky to catch up with what he had just said.

“Hutch, hey…we still have…”

“Enough time to get the batter ready.” Hutch smiled broadly and moved his finger up to Starsky’s chest and pushed, laughing at Starsky’s frustrated moan. “Come on, Dad, we have breakfast to make. Oh, Starsk? You do still have time for that shower.”

Hutch smothered the laugh that came after Starsky’s pillow hit the door he closed behind him.

Saturday night came right on schedule. Kenny and Sarabet had managed to conquer what little was left to conquer of their Uncle Hutch and completely wear out their father. Their time passed quickly, bittersweet and joyous, filled with hugs and laughter and playing and talks. It had been agreed upon that they would hang out at home. No special plans or restaurants. Too much had to be reestablished, too many hurt feelings had to be reassured. Kenny slipped easily into old Saturday routines with his father. Their special morning time: a quick trip out for a paper, a shared doughnut from its own bag–easy to hide the evidence–and home. Kenny was laughing again. He and Sarabet accepted their dad’s new home with Hutch. There were no questions, not yet. Hutch took Starsky aside and reminded him the questions would come later. And that later, the kids would be older and hopefully more able to understand. In the meantime, Hutch’s Play-Doh and their daddy’s games were what the kids found pleasure in. For now, it was enough.

Jacob and Queenie pulled up at just after six-thirty. Hutch spotted them first and turned to tell Starsky they were there. His words faltered and remained unspoken. Starsky was kneeling down, holding his kids close, whispering and making promises. Sara was crying and Kenny was doing his best to act like a big boy and not join his sister. Over and over Starsky told his kids he loved them and that before they knew it they’d be back. He promised to call them every morning and made sure they knew they could call him whenever they wanted to. Hutch stepped outside to let Liz’s parents know Starsky and his kids would be right out, that they were having a hard time saying good-bye. Five minutes later, the door opened and Starsky emerged with Sara on one arm and Kenny holding tight to his other hand. Hutch had to turn away from the pain on the three faces that were so much alike.

Starsky walked with his kids to the car, Sarabet nearly asleep on his shoulder, worn out from crying. Kenny went to his grandmother and buried his face in the safety of her skirt while Starsky secured his daughter in her car seat and kissed her good-bye. Kenny made it halfway into the car before he turned and made his way back into Starsky’s arms. Starsky held his boy and repeated everything he had told Kenny in the house until Kenny accepted the situation and started back to the car.

“Daddy?”

One more secret to share, a few more words whispered from son to father. Whatever Kenny said brought light to his father’s eyes. Good-byes were shared with Queenie and Jacob and Starsky and Hutch stood side by side and watched them drive away.

“Starsk? Are you all right?”

“Sure, babe…I’m fine.” Starsky leaned into Hutch, still staring down the street. “Hutch? Kenny just told me he was still proud of me. Can’t get better than that, babe.”

A rare rainy Sunday morning provided darkness that lent itself to sleeping in. Hutch held Starsky close in his arms, wondering as he surfaced from sleep, if it was possible to be any happier than he was. Starsky’s body, skin warm and soft over hard muscle and bone, nested against his own. Hutch’s head rested in the crook of his own left arm topped by a soft pillow, his right arm wrapped around Starsky, holding his man close. Hutch closed his eyes, buried his face in his lover’s hair, and gave his right hand free rein to explore. His hand moved slowly, his fingers light and sure, knowing where to touch, where to gently pinch, petting and caressing his way from neck to thighs. Starsky stirred in Hutch’s arms, pressing his back and bottom to Hutch’s chest and belly and groin. Hutch’s name was whispered softly as his hand wrapped around Starsky’s rapidly filling erection. His name came to his ears again as Hutch slowly pumped his lover.

Hutch shifted his own body, pulling his hips back until his penis had room to slide down Starsky’s ass and insinuate itself between his cheeks. Starsky lifted his upper leg, locking his calf around Hutch, opening himself for him, giving Hutch space for his cock. Hutch rocked his body to match the tempo of his hand, his erection rubbing over Starsky’s center with each stroke, pushing and bumping at Starsky’s full sac before pulling back to repeat the motion. Starsky tightened his ass cheeks and rode his lover’s cock, his own gratefully encased in Hutch’s firm grip. Hutch heard his name called again and again, louder and louder, as Starsky spilled hot cum over his hand and Hutch’s own orgasm flooded the back of Starsky’s thighs and balls. Sleep came back, ushered in by slowing caresses and movements between the lovers until they stilled in the darkness.

They slept until the rain cleared and fresh breezes stirred the draperies at the windows. Starsky stretched against the body behind him, turning to his back and pulling Hutch’s sleepy face in for a morning kiss.

“‘Mornin.”

“‘Mornin, love…beautiful morning.”

“You made it that way, blintz. Gonna make all my mornings this beautiful?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

Hutch did the kissing before he replied. Letting his fingers tangle with Starsky’s curls and his tongue tangle with Starsky’s tongue. Leaving Starsky’s mouth with a gentle kiss to his lips, Hutch answered. “I promise, David.”

Starsky pulled Hutch into his arms and held him, letting minutes pass away, drinking in the feel of Hutch’s skin beneath his fingers, the scent of his body mingling with the scents of their lovemaking, the sweet movements of Hutch’s chest against his own as his lover breathed and lived in his embrace. Hutch…my Hutch, what would I do without you? Can’t imagine…don’t ever want to…

“Starsk?” Hutch broke the silence. “Hey, sleepyhead. Anything special you want to do today? It’s back to work tomorrow for both of us.”

“I want the whole day to be special, babe. Just us, just like we started it.” Starsky tightened his arms and kissed the blond head that rested on his shoulder. “I’m gonna go call my kids and put the coffee on–how about I meet you in the shower? I want to need lots of showers today, Hutch. Lots of showers and lots of clean sheets.”

“You propositioning me, Starsk?”

“Don’t have to, Hutch. You’re already mine.”

“Yeah…yeah, I am, babe.” Hutch sat up and grinned at Starsky, leaned in for a kiss, and headed off for the shower.

Ten minutes later, Starsky walked into a bathroom filled with softly scented steam, a few candles, and Hutch in a tub filled with hot water. The big, old tub was long enough to accommodate Hutch’s equally long legs and wide enough to accommodate his lover’s body beside his. Bubbles skimmed across the water as it lapped gently at Hutch’s nipples, his knees breaking the surface as he curled his legs to make room for Starsky. Starsky kneeled down beside the tub and ran a hand through Hutch’s damp hair, smoothing it back from his face, making Hutch look ridiculously young. Hutch took the hand that had moved to caress his face and kissed its palm.

“You don’t mind if we save the shower for later, do you, babe? Join me, lover?” Hutch looked shyly at the floor before raising blushed cheeks to his lover. “Strip for me first?”

Starsky’s grin was sweetly lopsided. He had thrown on a hamper-bound pair of sweatpants for his trip to the kitchen and to call his kids and that was the extent of his clothing. But for Hutch…for Hutch he could strip and make it good. He kissed Hutch, breathing in the steam of the water carrying his lover’s scent, soaking in the warmth of Hutch’s lips. Starsky stood and backed away from the tub, just out of Hutch’s reach, positioning himself in line with the vanity mirror, wanting Hutch to have the best view.

“Look at me, Hutch. Watch. Watch everything I do.”

Hutch watched. Watched and loved as Starsky stretched and undulated his body before sliding his hands into the waistband of his sweats. Watched the fabric ripple and move as his hands rubbed down to his thighs and back up to cup and work his scrotum. Starsky’s hands moved upward and out of the sweats, roving over his belly and up to his chest, pinching and pulling his nipples. Moving back down to the sweats, Starsky pulled the pants low on his hips, his pubic hair ruffling over the top of the elastic. Hutch caught his breath and held it as Starsky’s long fingers encased his growing erection through the fleece, petting and stroking himself as the fabric tented against the strain of his cock. Starsky hooked his thumbs in the elastic and pulled the waistband away from his body, allowing his penis to pop free, keeping his shaft pressed close to his lower belly, banded at midpoint by elastic. Hutch watched as Starsky circled the weeping tip with one finger, playing with the tiny slit, rubbing his pre-cum over the head until it glistened with wet. And then Hutch watched as Starsky turned around.

Starsky’s ass was glorious, the old, worn sweats doing little to disguise the rounded cheeks they clothed. Starsky teased his lover, pulling the pants down just below the dimples that marked the lowest bit of his back, a little farther to reveal the beginning of the crevasse Hutch loved to explore. Starsky reached back and slid both hands under the waistband, squeezing his cheeks beneath the fabric, running fingertips between them, and finally pulling the sweats down to his knees. A great show was made of bending over to free legs from elasticized openings and Starsky smiled to himself when he heard Hutch’s soft moan, knowing Hutch was eyeing his center and low hanging balls. Starsky straightened, keeping his back to his lover, and took himself in hand, clenching his ass cheeks as he thrust into his palm, letting Hutch watch and want.

“Starsk…” Starsky didn’t turn around, not yet. “David, please, lover…”

Starsky spoke to Hutch’s image in the mirror. Hutch’s face was flushed, his body shining with sweat, eyes dark and filled with lust. Hutch’s hands moved below the water’s surface, creating little, rhythmic waves that danced and pushed at the bubbles and Starsky knew Hutch was pumping himself. “You want me, Hutch? You want me now?”

“Yes, I want you…now, David. Now.”

Starsky turned then and walked to Hutch, his erection full and heavy and strong, swaying before him with each step. Hutch turned his body in the tub and stopped Starsky at its edge, whispering for Starsky to wait, wait for just a minute. Hutch’s wet hands found Starsky’s erection, fondled his scrotum, squeezed and pulled at his ass, moving Starsky closer until his cock slipped between Hutch’s lips and Hutch swallowed his lover. Starsky’s senses threatened to pull him under as his cock was pulled deep into Hutch’s throat, pulsing in response to the vibrations of Hutch’s muscles. He looked down at his lover kneeling in water, at his belly pressed to Hutch’s face, watching as Hutch pulled back and his penis bridged the distance between them, glistening with Hutch’s saliva. Hutch’s fingers came back, making themselves busy with Starsky’s balls and ass, his mouth concentrating on Starsky’s glans, using teeth and tongue until Starsky shivered and found Hutch’s hair with his fingers. Hutch opened his mouth for him and Starsky slid in, his sensitized glans bumping and asking at the back of Hutch’s mouth and then Hutch was swallowing him again, milking him, pulling Starsky to spill down his throat.

Sometime in those few seconds after he came, as his knees began to give out, Hutch released him from his mouth and stood and pulled Starsky close, his body wet and warm and slippery against Starsky’s. The earlier invitation to join him was repeated, whispered into Starsky’s ear. Starsky sighed as Hutch lowered his body into the tub, warm water soothing his genitals, Hutch’s body hot behind him. He was wrapped in Hutch’s long arms and legs, Hutch’s heart beating against his back, Hutch’s breaths losing themselves in his curls. Starsky’s eyes closed, his body buoyant in the water, but at the same time held safely in place within Hutch’s embrace. Is this what it’s like, Hutch? To be a life held in a womb? To feel only warmth and peace and love…

“David? David I need…”

Starsky turned wordlessly in Hutch’s arms, his mouth finding and taking Hutch’s swollen lips. His tongue tasting himself as it explored Hutch’s mouth. His hands caressed and fondled their way down Hutch’s smooth chest, pausing to tease his nipples, lingering over his heart. They slipped below the water, Hutch’s pubic hair gone soft in the warmness, his penis hard in its nest, floating up from his body, arching into Starsky’s touch. Starsky pumped his lover, bath-oiled skin silky and slippery in his grasp. He kissed Hutch as he worked his shaft, his eyes asking and Hutch’s begging in return. Starsky released him and turned, bracing his body at the end of the bathtub. Bath oil trickled between his cheeks, then Hutch’s fingers were there, circling and teasing and then entering. A hand pressed to the flat of his belly, lifting and coaxing him until he was kneeling with his back to Hutch’s chest. Hutch’s fingers pushed in deeper and harder and then pulled out completely and Hutch moved behind him, aligning his cock to Starsky’s center. His hands steadied Starsky’s hips and Hutch pushed, his entrance slow and sweet as Starsky’s head fell back to his shoulder, welcoming Hutch into his body.

They stayed that way for a long time. Warm water lapping above their knees, Hutch buried in his lover, holding Starsky’s body close with arms and cock. Then one of them moved and the other answered and their rhythm became timeless and sure. Hutch pumped with strong thighs, thrusting hard, pulling Starsky’s body down to meet his with each upward stroke. He felt himself swell, filling his lover with all he could give, and he cried for Starsky as he came deep within him. Starsky’s mouth was at his ear, telling Hutch he could feel him coming, feel the semen as it spurted from his cock, feel every inch of Hutch’s hardness. Hutch’s hands found Starsky’s as his body began to sag and Starsky turned and caught him and held him, lowering him into the now cool water and cradling him in his arms. Hutch drifted, his mind as content as his body, finally brought back to awareness by the sensations of his body being bathed. He opened his eyes and smiled at his lover, letting Starsky wash him and take care of him.

“Hutch.”

“Hmm?”

“Come on babe, water’s getting cold.”

“Yeah, okay…Starsk?”

“Yeah, babe…come on, let me dry you…”

“That was good, love.”

“S’always good, Hutch…always. Always will be. Come on now…come with me.”

Starsky stretched himself awake, clean sheets cool beneath his body, Hutch’s body warm at his side. Even strong coffee had failed to keep them awake after a late breakfast. He had teased Hutch all through the first sheet changing. Come on, old man, you can’t be that tired. Really, Hutch, let’s make love again…now, babe, come on, I want to… Hutch had pulled him down to the fresh bed in mid-Starsky tease and Starsky was asleep in his arms before he finished his last sentence.

He turned on his side and looked at the man sleeping beside him. Hutch was facing away from Starsky, angled on their big bed, blond hair falling over his eyes, a closed fist tucked under his chin. Long, lean limbs, a back well muscled from ass to shoulders, endless stretches of smooth, golden skin. Starsky rested a hand on Hutch’s back, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. Hutch…my Hutch…

Starsky lifted himself, straddling his sleeping lover, butt resting over Hutch’s. Hutch moved beneath him, but didn’t awaken, not then. Starsky started with Hutch’s shoulders, rubbing lightly at first, then deepening his touch, massaging his way down Hutch’s back. When his hands reached the top of Hutch’s ass, Starsky lifted himself off and gently nudged Hutch’s legs apart, sliding his body down to lie in that space, his head cushioned on half of Hutch’s bottom. Starsky traced over Hutch’s buttocks with one finger, dipping into the cleft, finding the tiny opening. Pulling his body back, he used both hands to part his lover and ran his tongue where his finger had just been. Hutch moved again, his legs going wider, hips rising just a bit. Starsky pressed his tongue over Hutch’s center and Hutch moaned and called for him. Starsky shushed him and soothed him with his hands and mouth before pulling back again and taking his fill of the man spread out before him. The soft, pale ass parted to reveal the dark pink of Hutch’s anus, the stretch of perineum, and Hutch’s sac–a paler pink, scattered with the lightest of blond hair. The dusky head of Hutch’s cock peeked out from below his sac, mauve velvet that invited Starsky’s touch. Starsky ran his finger there and whispered to his own heart… Nothing…nothing could ever be more beautiful…

Starsky returned with his tongue, washing over glans and balls until Hutch’s hips lifted again and his erection shifted up under his belly. Starsky captured the gentle momentum of his lover’s hips, grasping Hutch between his hands and guiding him to his knees, pale cheeks parting and inviting with the position. Hutch called over and over for Starsky when Starsky’s tongue began rimming him, his voice trembling between a sob and a laugh, his body aching with the sensations and want that Starsky nurtured in his soul and flesh. Starsky left Hutch’s ass and kissed his way up his lover’s back, his erection coming to rest where his tongue had played, his head pressed to Hutch’s, whispering in his ear how beautiful he was, how much he wanted him, what he wanted to do to him. Hutch followed Starsky’s desires, obeying his lover’s gentle hands, turning his body to lie on his back, legs spread wide. Wanting. Wanting it all.

Starsky started with Hutch’s mouth, moving slowly down to neck and nipples, skating his tongue and lips over muscle and skin and bone. He lay belly down between Hutch’s legs and took Hutch’s cock in his mouth, letting Hutch pump, tasting the salt of pre-cum, easing Hutch’s foreskin back with lip covered teeth. Holding Hutch tightly in his mouth, Starsky’s hand found Hutch’s ass and he penetrated him with a single finger. Hutch bucked against his mouth and Starsky felt him open around his finger, ready for more. He slid in another finger and Hutch squeezed hard, making Starsky ache with the want to take his lover with his cock. But first, he wanted Hutch to come. Wanted to feel Hutch’s insides ripple and pull his fingers deeper into his ass, wanted to drink as Hutch’s seed spilled down his throat. Starsky set the pace, loving Hutch with his fingers and hands, while Hutch’s cock made love to his mouth. Hutch came with a single shout, burying his cock as deeply as he could in Starsky’s throat, pressing hard at the fingers in his anus, his body pulsing with the pleasure of it all–Starsky greedily absorbing the aftereffects, loving that he had brought Hutch to that point. Loving their loving.

Starsky held Hutch in his mouth, waiting for him to go soft, to feel Hutch’s body relax around his fingers. He pulled his fingers from Hutch’s anus and released Hutch’s cock from his mouth and moved upward, blanketing Hutch with the comfort of his body, kissing his mouth and asking Hutch for what he wanted. Hutch answered with his own mouth, agreed with his own hands. Starsky was his…his to take, his to be taken by.

“Starsk, sit up for me, love…that’s it, just sit on my belly.” Hutch reached for the small end table beside the bed and returned with the cream they preferred as a lubricant. Starsky watched Hutch’s hands as they teased him with the cool cream, spreading it over the head of his cock, stroking it down its length. Hutch slid his hand beneath Starsky’s sac, teasing him there, too, rolling his balls and fingering the skin behind them. Hutch came back to Starsky’s erection, running his thumb up the prominent vein that ran from its root nested deep in Starsky’s sac to Starsky’s glans where he swirled through Starsky’s own wetness with the lubricant. Starsky tensed above him, his breathing reduced to panting gasps. joining Hutch’s hands with his own, squeezing hard, wanting to slow things down, wanting to come inside of Hutch. So close now.

“Hutch! Now, babe, let me now…”

Hutch lifted Starsky with large hands pressed to muscled sides, taking his turn at feeling Starsky breathe, so alive and warm under his hands. Bodies were repositioned, long legs raised to rest on strong shoulders, a hard cock pressed to a waiting center. They joined slowly, savoring every second of Starsky’s journey into Hutch’s body, eyes locked on each other. Starsky rested, letting Hutch adjust to him, waiting for the quiet concentration on his lover’s face to harden with desire, for Hutch’s eyes to close and his mouth open to accommodate quickened breathing, for Hutch to bear down around his penis. And when all of those things happened, Starsky made love to Hutch–taking slow to fast, pumping to thrusting, stilling his body as Hutch came again, this time between their bellies, feeling the shudder and trembling of Hutch’s release. Starsky lay over his lover then, covering the body he so loved with his own, feeling Hutch wrap him in long legs and arms. Starsky pumped slowly within his lover, his mind shutting down as pleasure took over, all of his world inside of Hutch. His orgasm wrapped him as Hutch’s body did and he buried his face against Hutch’s neck, his lover’s skin a warm cocoon of pulsing flesh and scent and sweat.

Hutch held Starsky for a long time, certain he had dozed off…wanting to hold him forever in his sleep, keep him safe. Always, always the urge to keep him safe. Starsky stirred and Hutch held on harder, pressing a hand to Starsky’s curls, whispering for him to please stay, let him hold him.

“Hutch? Hey, babe, what’s wrong? Did I…?”

“No, love, no…there’s nothing wrong, not really. I just want to hold you, David…just hold you. Let me, okay? Sleep, my love, go to sleep.”

Starsky put his head back down to Hutch’s neck and pressed his body to him and let Hutch hold him. Sleep was beckoning once again, but elusive. Thoughts drifted through Starsky’s mind, unformed and unsettling. He wondered what, if anything, he and Hutch were hiding from. Something more than their current worries…some feeling, some fear he couldn’t place. Hutch’s arms tightened around him, long fingers tracing soothing patterns on his skin. Starsky pressed closer and let the warmth of Hutch’s embrace banish his fear, letting it dissolve and vanish. He welcomed sleep.

Dinnertime came with a ring of the doorbell and pizza. Starsky had emptied the coffee table and spread it with a table cloth pilfered long ago from an Italian restaurant he and Hutch frequented back when they were partners on the force

Candles, beer, a ball game on the TV and Hutch beside him on the sofa, rounded out Starsky’s heaven. The dryer buzzed loudly sometime around the seventh inning and a drowsy, slightly inebriated Hutch told Starsky to answer the phone.

“Dryer, babe.”

“Who?”

Oh, brother. “Not who, Hutch, the dryer…sheets are done. All of the sheets.” Starsky grinned at his lover. “Every set you own.” Starsky counted off on his fingers. “Before breakfast, after breakfast, after lunch, after a nap…been a good day, Hutch.”

“Yeah, babe…sure has.”

“Special, Hutch, you made it special.”

Hutch smiled at his lover, gracing Starsky with a loopy grin. “‘Course I did. I love you, you know that don’t you?”

“Yep. And I love you, blintz. Come on, we have a bed to make.”

Starsky smiled at the flaccid penis nestled just below his chin. He’d given it his best shot, but Hutch’s body–and his own, though he wasn’t about to point that out–was anything but cooperative. Dinner, beer, a day of making love–sleep sounded good. Hutch pulled gently at his lover’s curls, inviting him into his arms. Starsky settled happily into Hutch’s embrace, content and more than a little sleepy himself. Hutch held him close, listening and feeling as together their breathing slowed toward sleep.

“Starsk? I’m sorry I’m so tired…maybe later we can…”

“Hutch…s’okay.” Starsky found Hutch’s hand and held it to his lips and then to his chest. “This is makin’ love, too, Hutch. You holdin’ me while we fall asleep. S’makin’ love with you, babe…mine…”

Starsky drifted away first, his last sweet word claiming Hutch.

A hand shot out from a rumpled and rolled shirtsleeve to grab the ringing phone. “Starsky.” Surprise washed across Starsky’s features. Surprise tempered by apprehension tempered by hope.

“Jeri…hello. What can I do for you?… No, sorry, can I…he’s… Really?” Anybody watching Starsky would have laughed. He took the receiver away from his ear and looked at it incredulously, as if the object had miraculously spoken on its own. “Sure, sure, listen, Ken is in court, we could meet here, in my office, if that’s okay with you, he’s planning on stopping by.”

Starsky listened intently as Jeri spoke. His next reaction was different, hiding his eyes behind his hand, a shudder of a breath, and an ear-to-ear Starsky grin.

“Jeri, that’s great, just great. I…thank you. Listen, would one o’clock work for you?… Yeah, Hutch should be here by then…my office, see you then. Jeri…Hutch will be very happy… Yeah, it means the world to me…’bye.”

Starsky sat, settled on the corner of his desk, telephone receiver resting on his thigh. Hutch, you’re gonna see your son, be part of his life. You’re gonna be a father, babe! Laughing out loud, he dialed Hutch’s pager number, knowing he was in court, too damned happy to care. He simply punched in number three…I love you…and laughing again, tried his best to settle down and finish up his paperwork. Giving up after a few short minutes, Starsky just sat and imagined and dreamed how overjoyed Hutch would be when the blond wisp made his appearance, when he cradled that tiny body in his big hands, smelled his baby scent, felt his softness against his face. You’ll love him, babe, so much your heart will think it’s gonna break. And I’ll love him, too. That part of you. I can see him, Hutch, I already know him. All blue eyes and blond hair and pink skin. You, Hutch, a tiny, little you.

“Captain Starsky, where are you?”

Minnie’s voice sing-songing in his ear brought him back to earth.

“I’m right here, Minnie. Haven’t moved a muscle.”

“I can see that, Starsky, I’ve been standing here for a good five minutes watching you grin at a piece of paper. How’s about telling old Minnie what’s up? You have some good news for a change, Starsk?”

Starsky smiled at the diminutive woman perched on his desktop. He and Minnie and Hutch went back a long way. She had simply always been there, through all the good and bad, joy and heartbreak. Holding a hand, soothing a hurt, ready to listen. He and Hutch loved her. Trusted her. Minnie hadn’t batted an eye when they told her about the newness in their relationship, just hugged them each in turn, pushed her glasses up on her nose, and told them it was about time they figured it out. Minnie gave them a confidant within their small world. Someone they knew they would be able to share their lives with, relax around without self-consciousness. Someone safe.

“The best news, Minnie. Jeri Eastman is having a total change of heart, more than Hutch and I ever dreamed of. She’s turning all the PI records over to me and Hutch so we can destroy them. And even better than that…”

Starsky stopped, unable say another word, overwhelming emotions taking him by surprise, leaving him speechless and wide eyed. Minnie took over for him.

“‘Better than that’ meaning that Hutch gets to be the daddy he deserves to be? That what has you so happy, Starsk?”

Starsky let out a long breath before responding to Minnie’s gentle questioning, taking her hand, diverting his attention to playing with her rings. He didn’t care that there were tears in his eyes when he finally looked at her, Minnie had seen those before, too.

“Yeah, Minnie, our Hutch is really going to be a daddy. I don’t know what turned Jeri around… God, whatever it was… Oh, Minnie, he’ll be so happy.” Starsky tightened his grasp on Minnie’s hand, knowing she would understand what he was about to say, because she loved Hutch, too. “I’m so happy, too, Minnie. I want Hutch to know what I know, what I feel with my kids. I want that joy for him. That pride. He’ll be a great father. And all the love he gives will come right back to him. He won’t have to fight for it or be told he doesn’t deserve it or be scared that he’s gonna wake up someday and find it gone. The little wisp is gonna love his dad.” Starsky pulled Minnie in for a hug. “How could he not, huh, Min?”

Only years of knowing let Minnie see the sadness and resignation that tinged faintly at Starsky’s joy. How much he loves you, Hutch, how happy he is for you when he’s still so afraid his own kids could be lost to him. The past week and a half had been so damn cruel–one day up, the next back down into the scary darkness of uncertainty. At first, it had been a struggle just not to break under the threats that barraged him from Liz’s first attorney. Quentin Cohen and Liz Starsky’s parents had put a halt to that, but the needles had pierced Starsky’s skin and hurt him. The name-calling, the labels, all the more painful to him for including Hutch. Liz’s new attorney was heaven compared to Glenn Rupert, but Starsky was still battling with his guilt, still scared Liz’s frailty could drag her back down to the depths of despair where she threatened to take his kids. He and Hutch had agreed to continue to keep their lives secret, fearing any slip up that could cost Starsky his job and Minnie was willingly sharing that duty at work. Protecting her captain, an arsenal of comebacks at the ready to combat every rumor, every innuendo. But she couldn’t protect him from his own fears and insecurities.

“Starsky? You know you have the same love in your life, don’t you? I mean, your babies love you so much and Hutch has always loved you. You deserve the same, David Starsky.”

“Thanks, Minnie. I…I know they love me and I love them, Min, it’s just…it was just so hard to say good-bye to them when it was time to go on Saturday. They don’t understand it, they didn’t like it, but at the same time, they eventually accepted it and that scares the hell out of me. They hurt and that tears me up inside.” Starsky swallowed hard against the lump that had risen in his throat and grabbed for Minnie’s hand. “I miss my kids, Minnie, Liz was real good about letting me see them, but I still miss them. I want better for Hutch…more for Hutch than a few weekends a month. And I’m so damn happy he’s gonna have it.

“Remember my dream life, Minnie? Picket fence, kids, family? That’s still what I want and more than anything I want that life with Hutch. Our home, our kids, no more fighting and having to prove ourselves. You know, maybe what Hutch and I have now isn’t that conventional dream, but we have it and it gets better between us every day and it’s ours. Mine and Hutch’s. I don’t know what I did to be blessed with Hutch, but I am. And today is Hutch’s day, his turn to have a dream come true. And, my dearest Minnie, you are a blessing, too. Come here and give your boss a hug. Thanks, Minnie, glad you were here–had to share with somebody.”

“Anytime, Captain. You know I’m always going to be here anytime you need to get something off that gorgeous chest of yours.” A peck on Starsky’s cheek and Minnie was gone, leaving behind a chuckling Starsky.

The paperwork was still sitting on his desk. But the clock sitting next to it was far more captivating. Starsky was amazed at how many mind games he came up with, dividing thirty minutes into segments, reducing it by increments, rearranging it by fractions. Jumping out of his chair when Minnie buzzed to let him know Hutch would be late. No time to talk, just wrapping his case up, looking at one-fifteen at the latest.

Ten minutes later, Minnie’s pixie face peered around the door. “Captain? Your one o’clock appointment is here.” Minnie playing it cool for Jeri to hear, gracing her boss with a grin to rival Starsky’s best. “Shall I have her come in?”

“Yes, thank you, Minnie. Please show Ms. Eastman in.”

Minnie ducked out of Starsky’s office and invited Jeri Eastman to enter. Minnie was gone with a wink over Jeri’s shoulder, quietly closing the door behind her. Starsky stood and regarded Jeri with open curiosity. Taking in the ripeness of her pregnancy, the flush to her face, the nervousness in her eyes. What do I look like to her? This beautiful young woman Hutch gave up for me? Jeri suddenly set down the briefcase she was carrying, hands moving swiftly to cradle her stomach, supporting the weight of the child within, and Starsky watched as a grimace scattered across her face, her body locking tight as if she were afraid to move.

“How long, honey? How far apart?” Starsky pulled a chair over and gently pressed Jeri to sit, pushing back a stray tendril of blonde hair, placing a hand alongside of hers, feeling her body gradually relax as the contraction passed. “Jeri, you okay now? Can I call anyone for you?” Like Hutch?

“I’m fine, Captain Starsky, really…how did you know?”

This is the first time I’ve heard her speak in person, this woman who is having my partner’s baby. Starsky was gentle with his response, fighting the urge to grab the phone, call Hutch, and tell him to get the hell over here now. He’s coming, blondie, your son is on his way.

“Well, I have been through this a few times with my own kids and with a few women who were determined not to get to the hospital on time. Goes with the territory, I guess. Now, how long, Jeri?”

“Yesterday, around dinnertime. But they stopped. They started up again just after I spoke with you, but they’re coming faster, about ten minutes apart, and they hurt.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know they do. You know, first babies generally take their time. Are you comfortable enough to wait for Hutch?” May as well take the bull by the horns. “He called and talked to Minnie, said he’d be five or ten minutes late. If you’d rather just talk to me and get going, that’s fine, too. I can take you to the hospital–if you have a bag packed, I can send one of my men for it.” That’s good, huh? Didn’t bat an eye when I mentioned waitin’ for Hutch…

Jeri looked into the face of the man her lover had left her for, wondering why she found him so easy to like. “I am a little scared and the hospital sounds quite inviting right now, but I know you’re right, we have a little time. I have all the files in my briefcase, if you hand it to me, I’ll get them out for you.” Jeri extracted several large manila envelopes and turned them over to Starsky. “That’s everything, Captain Starsky, John Haddon turned over all of the duplicates per Judge Cornwall’s order and he’s left me alone. I’m…I’m very sorry about what he did to you and your family. I had pretty much decided not to use the photos and reports he had accumulated and told him so. I think that’s when he made the copies and devised his plan. I really had no idea the man was in love with me. I’m not even certain anymore why I hired him in the first place…sometimes the attorney in me makes me forget that I’m a person first, I guess.”

“Jeri, please don’t apologize. Haddon was out of control; you’re not responsible for what he did. As far as the pictures and reports go, well, I understand all the whys. Sometimes the cop in me forgets, too. You’re doing the right thing, Jeri, the very best thing you possibly could. Ken Hutchinson is a damn good man. And I promise you that he and I will do everything we can for you and the baby.” Starsky found he had to turn away, the same overwhelming emotions that had hit him earlier, threatening a return appearance. He had sweet, silly longing to have Minnie beside him, holding his hand. He turned back to Jeri just as she was gripped by another contraction. His hands went out automatically and she seized them both tightly, hanging on even after the pain passed. Starsky waited quietly, looking from her small hands to her face, knowing she had something more to say.

“Captain…may I call you David? Friday night I drove past Ken’s home–I can’t even tell you why I did–I didn’t expect you to be there and when I saw your car parked on the street…I just…well I followed the walk to Ken’s door.” The next sentence bore all the conviction of a confession. “I didn’t quite have the nerve to ring the bell, but I…I watched you and Ken and your children through the window.” Starsky couldn’t help the look that creased his features. Privacy was important to him, part of protecting his kids, protecting his relationship with Hutch. And that privacy had already been painfully breached. “I’m sorry, David…I just couldn’t turn away. I still wasn’t certain about Ken having joint custody, but when I saw him with your children…I saw two men who loved the children they were caring for very much. And two men who loved each other very much. And what could be better for Ken’s and my baby? I can’t keep my son from the father I know will love him and care for him. How would I ever explain that to him? I want my child to be happy and it may be old fashioned, but I think having both a mom and dad would help assure that happiness.”

There were dozens of things Starsky wanted to say to the young woman before him. What she had just given to Hutch, and, in loving’s turn, to him, was the precious and timeless promise of having a child to nurture and love. His Hutch would have it all. All the firsts, the pride, the heartaches, the sticky-fingered touches and sloppy little boy kisses. Looking at tiny features and seeing himself as he had once been and his son as he would one day be. Hundreds of things he wanted to say but couldn’t, the longing for his own kids so intense that his throat closed tight around the feeling and all he could manage was a whispered thank you.

Jeri waited quietly for Starsky to find control. Peace settled over her heart. She had done the right thing, the very best thing for her child, for Ken’s child. Her child would always be safe and loved. The tough police captain in front of her, eyes brimming with joyful tears for his partner, left no room for doubt. She sent up a little prayer that Starsky’s wife could find the same peace…for as long as our children are loved unconditionally and valued and wanted…because of those things, we will find happiness and love, too… The hands gripping Starsky’s tightened again, Hutch’s boy determined to let his mother know he wanted to be born soon.

“Come on now, let’s get you to the hospital so the blond wisp can make his appearance.” Jeri managed a puzzled look despite the latest contraction and Starsky had to laugh. “Come on, sweetheart, I’ll tell you about that on the way. Minnie will see to it that Hutch gets to the hospital and in the meantime, you have me. Which might be better, seein’ as I’ve done this before. Hutch can be pretty clumsy, you know. Come on, it’s okay, you’ll do just fine.”

Starsky held Jeri close, supporting her with strong hands and a steady stream of one-sided conversation. Minnie was already on the phone to the courthouse to try and find Hutch, promising them Hutch would appear before the baby was born, just please hurry and get Jeri to the hospital.

Starsky was completely engrossed in his mission. Parker Center corridors as familiar to him as the hallways of his home–didn’t have to look to see where he was going and he didn’t. His attention stayed focused on Jeri’s face, coaching her along with her breathing, continuing to talk to her. The elevator door opened just as Starsky pushed the down button and he finally looked up, relieved they wouldn’t have to wait. Haddon was there. Face livid with anger. Hand gripping white knuckled at a gun. He never said a word.

Starsky backpedaled rapidly, pushing Jeri behind him, desperate to get her to safety. Haddon fired the first of three shots. Starsky grunted in pain as a bullet found his belly, propelling him back into the body behind him. He heard Jeri gasp at the impact and try to speak–her voice far away and foggy. He wanted to look at her, try to understand what she was saying, but it was too damned hard to lift his head, the pain in his gut pulling him down. Haddon fired again, the bullet searing fire at the side of Starsky’s neck. Behind him, Jeri flinched and gurgled something unintelligible and slid to the floor. Starsky dropped beside her, curling protectively around her body. Another shot, the last one, and Haddon was down by his own hand. Silence fell for a brief moment, then shouts filled the air and shoes cracked sharp on the tile floor. Someone was screaming, someone else sobbing, and a weak voice called out a single word.

“Hutch.”

He almost made it. The sun was out there shining, fresh air waiting. Court had been interminably long. Long and boring and when did that desk chair get so damned hard? Ten more minutes and he’d be with Starsky. Minnie had been adamant in her wheedling when she took his call to let Starsky know he’d be late…just hurry…please, Hutch, for Starsk, just hurry, okay? And Starsky had bent one of their own rules and sent him a pager message smack dab in the middle of proceedings. Something’s up… Hutch smiled to himself, knowing he had turned every shade of red under the judge’s cool glare, fumbling to silence the high pitched beeping. Oh well, payback is always sweet with Starsk.

“Mr. Hutchinson?” Hutch recognized the voice of one of the court bailiffs. Maybe I can pretend I didn’t hear him, just a few more feet… “Mr. Hutchinson! Please wait, there was a phone call from one of the news channels…didn’t have any details. There’s been a shooting at Parker Center, sir. I…I thought you should know, I remember…”

Hutch couldn’t move. Wave after wave of people ran past him, mouths moved, belongings were dropped in the hurry, car doors slammed, engines raced and tires squealed out in the sunshine, but Ken Hutchinson heard none of it. Heard nothing but the ghost of his own voice. Saw nothing but the nightmare of his own memories. Starsky! Get down! Starsky! Starsky! So still, lying on the ground, a fallen warrior beside his steed…blood, dark and flowing, a puddle, a lake…Starsk? Not you, Starsk, please…

“Ken!”

Quentin? Hands pulled at him, took control. Urgent hands propelling him to the door.

“Ken, come on, we don’t know that it’s David…come with me, Ken, I have my car right out front, let’s go.”

Quentin drove like a mad man, squeezing between cars, threatening pedestrians with his horn, his boxy old Mercedes a slithering python, graceful and sure and brought up cold by a sea of police and emergency vehicles jockeying with pedestrians and cars and news vans to get closer. Parker was right there; they could see it, a scant two blocks ahead. May as well have been Oz at the edge of the poppy fields. Quentin picked a parking space on a sidewalk, the abused Mercedes ready to stall, finally shuddering to a stop under Hutch’s verbal reaming.

“Get out, Ken. Run!” Go, Ken, prove me wrong…forgive me, God, let it be some other captain…Ken didn’t hear the reports that I did…please, not David…

The cops who knew him–the ones who remembered–pulled back those who didn’t and tried to stop him. Pushed a path ahead of him, pulling open doors, running interference up the stairs. Word had traveled fast–their captain was down, a hero, protecting a pregnant woman, taking the bullets, saving, dying. A discordant hymn singing Starsky’s praises.

“That’s Cap’s partner, let him through!”

“Hurry, looks bad!”

“This way, sir, we’ll get you through. We have to hurry…”

No, Starsk…you promised.

Fourth floor, Starsky’s floor, the stairwell door pushed open beyond its limits, outlined in the plaster wall. Young uniforms, street-worn detectives, civilians, all sharing the same stricken and shocked faces, huddled along the corridor, framing the blood spray that marred the walls and floor, staring in sickened fascination at viscous red puddles spotting the tiles. At the end, in front of the elevators, a dead body, shrouded in gray blankets, ignored except for the occasional pointing finger. Several yards closer, a cluster of paramedics surrounded another body. Where is he? Starsk? Starsk, tell me… Voices layered one on top of the other, calling out numbers, demanding answers, giving orders. Above it all, Hutch heard the disciplined cadence of CPR repeating over and over.

“No…oh, no…”

The small hand that lay motionless in front of him was as familiar to Hutch as the strands of blonde hair that fanned out on the floor, framing what was left of Jeri Eastman’s lovely face. This woman who had been his lover, who had shared her beauty and hair and hands. Had loved him. Her hand was snatched from the floor and Jeri was bundled onto a gurney, the CPR uninterrupted, a stranger balancing at her side, staying with her, breathing for her. Restraining straps defining the belly so large in contrast to her lithe body. Oh, Jeri, why were you here? Where’s Starsk? Who did this? I’m sorry… The baby, my child…they’re trying to save my baby…

“Jeri!”

Bloodstained hands held him back, forced him to stop.

“Sir, listen to me. We’re doing everything we can to help her, to save the baby. We’re taking her to Memorial, you can follow us.”

Jeri was gone in a crowd of medics. They think I’m her husband…our baby… Hutch had to fight with himself, his body already turning to the remaining medics tending to another victim, his eyes staying locked on the stretcher carrying Jeri and their child. What do I do, oh, God, where’s Starsk? The elevator doors closed and he turned back and was assaulted by the voices of strangers and the sounds and terminology and blood and sheer terror that had been his and Starsky’s lives for so long after Gunther. Starsk? A medic moved from his line of vision. Another hand lying still on the floor, another hand that had loved him, had held his own in fear and joy. Starsky’s hand. Numbness invaded his body, robbing feeling from every inch, every ounce of his weight. But not from his heart. His heart hurt. Another medic moved and his eyes found Minnie, weeping over the still head cradled between her hands. The pale face was peaceful and perfect beneath the oxygen mask, the bloodied body below it at war to survive. Paramedics pressing hard at his wounds, sliding in needle after needle, calling out vital signs. Every sound urgent and sharp and stabbing. Hutch’s mind started to plug back in cell by cell–not again, not again! Dammit, God, how could you?–Starsky was so terribly white, as pale as that other time when Hutch had nearly lost him, that time when Hutch had been the one holding his head. Minnie made a noise, words or a sob, Hutch couldn’t tell, but the sound drew him in, circling his mind, clenching at his soul. He fell to his knees behind her, hiding his face against her back.

“Minnie? Tell me he’ll be okay, Minnie. Please, tell me.”

Minnie did not turn around, she didn’t need to to know who was there, kneeling down behind her, resting his forehead on her shoulder. Would have known even if he hadn’t spoken. He’s too scared to look, too scared to see it again. Minnie’s tears fell into Starsky’s hair, washed over his face.

“He’s alive, Hutch, Starsk is alive. Do you hear me, Hutch? He’s alive.”

Hutch’s whispered “yes” found Minnie’s ear, his head tucking even harder against her, breath as hot as his fear penetrating the somber black fabric of Minnie’s uniform, still too terrified to look and see what he already knew. He circled his arms around her, his reach heartbreakingly hesitant, trembling fingers brushing at Minnie’s, begging for direction. The soft curls of Starsky’s hair were found first, then an ear, the long jaw line. Stumbling over the frame of the oxygen mask, Minnie pressed Hutch’s fingers to Starsky’s neck, the gift of Starsky’s pulse banishing the horror of the blood-soaked compress that edged at his fingertips. I feel you, babe…you’re alive, Starsk, hang on…we’ll be okay…

“Starsky? Can you hear me, baby? Hutch is here, Starsk. Come on…he needs to see your eyes.” Minnie cajoled and patted at Starsky’s face. The medics were nearly ready to move him, the stretcher moved in closer, and she knew they would have to let Starsky go. But Hutch had to connect with him…and Starsky had to know the other was there. That was what always got them through, saved them and kept them. “Starsky, please, open your eyes! For Hutch, he’s here, honey…” Minnie pleaded silently with the medic. Please, just a few more seconds, it’s important…it’s everything…

Everything Ken Hutchinson had ever known peered out at him through Starsky’s blue eyes. All the joy and sorrow, the love and loss, hope and despair. The cheeks below the eyes lifted in a smile and a quivering and bloody hand sought Hutch’s own. The grip was so weak, so fragile…but still, life, and exactly what Hutch needed to feel.

“Hutch…”

“I’m here, Starsk, right here. I’ve got you.”

“Hutch?” Something hurt and Starsky’s head lolled to the side and when his eyes opened again he saw the pool of blood left behind by Jeri, saw the gurney’s wheel tracks and shoe prints red on the cold tile floor. “No, please no… Jeri?” Tears slid down the sides of Starsky’s face, finding Hutch’s hand. “I’m sorry, Hutch…the baby… I tried…”

“No, Starsk, don’t. Just hold on, I love you, David, I need you…for me, okay?”

“‘K…Hutch. Damn, oh damn…hurts. Minnie, tell him….Wisp…tell…”

Starsky’s body went rigid and the hand that held Hutch’s was no longer weak and fragile. Arching desperately against the pain that engulfed his body, Starsky’s grip was iron and in the same second spent, his hand falling back to the floor, eyes sliding shut. Fresh blood trickled from below the mask and the paramedics moved fast. Starsky was moved and gone, the elevator doors bringing the curtain down, leaving behind a stunned and silent audience.

Minnie and Hutch sat in place on the floor where together they had held Starsky, Minnie lost in Hutch’s long arms, small against his chest. They wept together, marginally aware that the people around them were beginning to move. Haddon’s body was taken away, officers busy securing evidence. Flashbulbs turned the scene into slices of time, harshly illuminating the horrors left behind. For those moments, they were too weighed down by pain to move–their own pain and Starsky’s pain as their own. Minnie came around first. Starsky had left her a promise to share with Hutch. Jeri’s promise of their son.

“Hutch, come on, Hutch, let’s get to the hospital. Starsk needs you there…and so does Jeri. There’s a lot Starsk wants me to tell you, Hutch.”

“Mr. Hutchinson? I’m Dr. Bradford.”

Hutch straightened in his chair and tried to stand, abruptly made aware that his legs had completely lost the power to support his body. Whatever the baby-faced MD in front of him had to say would be said with him sitting down. Minnie’s hand slipped into his, and he held on for dear life. He didn’t even know whom the doctor was caring for, Starsky or Jeri, but whichever one it was, the young doctor was grimly serious. Hutch’s heart flopped within his chest. Oh, God…I’m scared shitless, I can’t do this! Minnie moved closer and the doctor squatted before them.

“Mr. Hutchinson, I’m terribly sorry.” No! No, don’t tell me that…no… “We could do nothing to save her. The damage to her brain was just too extensive. The paramedics did everything humanly possible to keep her alive until we were able to get her into surgery and deliver her child and to that extent we were successful. You have a baby boy, Mr. Hutchinson. He looks good, real good.”

Minnie started to cry. Hutch didn’t have a clue what to do. Jeri was gone, Starsky was still fighting for his life, and he had his son. He slumped back into his chair, wishing it would swallow him and hide him. He wanted Jeri alive. He wanted Starsky to be there beside him, overjoyed and proud and teasing. Reminding him to be tender with Jeri, to thank her for his child. Starsky would send her flowers, know what to say. Starsky had so much to teach him, about feeding and diapers and holding a tiny head and…

“Mr. Hutchinson? Look, I know this has been a terribly tragic day. I think that if you go up to the nursery and see your son, you will feel a helluva lot better. I promise to send for you myself if there’s any word on Captain Starsky. It’s just one flight up, you won’t be far away. I can’t even put into words how important it is that you bond with your baby.”

“Come on, Hutch, Starsky would want you to do this. Let’s go meet your son.” Minnie pulled determinedly at the dejected man before her. Hutch stared blankly at Minnie, just as determined not to move. “Dammit, Hutch, don’t you see? This is what Starsky was willing to die for!” Minnie’s voice was almost lost in her tears. “Your baby, Hutch, your little boy…for you. Please, honey, come with me.”

You will hold your son. I promise. I won’t let it be any other way.

Hutch took Minnie’s hand and together they made their way to the nursery.

Dr. Bradford had cleared the way and Hutch was ushered into the nursery anteroom, instructed to wash his hands and put a gown over his clothing and wait. A minute later the nurse was back with the tiniest of bundles in her arms. Hutch froze. For the briefest possible part of a second, he froze. And then he was taking his baby from the nurse, holding his breath, and looking down at the little pink face, so sound asleep, sweeter than anything Hutch had ever seen. His son. Hutch’s breath came out in a shaky sob and the baby squirmed in his sleep, his wobbly little head rolling in Hutch’s hand. And Hutch saw his first glimpse of his son’s hair, pale, pale blond, just a smattering really. A wisp. Oh, Starsk…Starsk… A soft knock on the nursery window and he turned his son to meet Minnie, his face alight with joy and pride, tears running down his cheeks as he wordlessly asked Minnie if she had ever seen anything so wonderful, so beautiful as his boy.

His son mewled and fussed and Hutch instinctively rocked him, whispered to him, and realized the words he spoke were those Starsky comforted Kenny and Sarabet with, little bits of nonsense that remained a constant in his children’s lives and consoled them. Starsk, please…please live. We all love you so much…need you so much. Hutch sank into the lone rocking chair in the room and cried over his son until he could cry no more and then he started to talk. He told his son all about his mother and Starsky and Kenny and Sarabet. How so many people already loved him and always would. And he told him his name.

“Your mother named you Kiernan. You know, we didn’t get around to talking about your middle name. But you know something, Kiernan? I know what it is. Leif. Kiernan Leif Hutchinson. I guess it’s a pretty big name for such a little fella, isn’t it? Leif for your mother and Poppa Starsky–Poppa…Starsk will like that–because without them…”

Minnie’s knock on the window was firm and urgent and the peace that held Hutch vanished. He kissed his son and promised him he would be back. Handing Kiernan to the nurse, Hutch felt the cool emptiness left behind and his emotions swelled as more of Starsky’s words came to him. And when I’m blessed to hold that little blond wisp of a boy, my love will triple…and so will yours. Hutch stopped the nurse for one more look, one more stroke of Kiernan’s soft baby face beneath his finger. It did, Starsk… I fell in love just like you said I would… Come on, buddy, it’s your turn now.

Minnie was halfway to the elevator, hand outstretched to Hutch.

“Hurry, Hutch, Dr. Bradford called for you–Starsky is coming out of surgery and they want you down there.”

Hutch searched Minnie’s face for answers and found none.

“I don’t know, Hutch, he just said to hurry…”

The sand was warm beneath his bare feet. Hutch was ahead of him, playing with two young children. Hutch? The older of the two, a slim little boy with a tangle of dark auburn curls turned and laughed, and Starsky saw a face he knew he loved. Kenny? When did you turn into such a big boy? A little girl joined in the laughter, her voice beloved in Starsky’s memory, her curls long and dark to her waist, still chubby five year-old-legs darting over and over to the ocean’s edge and back to the safety of Hutch’s arms. Sarabet? Is that you, sweetheart?

‘Poppa?’ Another child tugged at his hand and he picked him up, nestling the white blond head against his shoulder. Wisp? But you must be two! When did this happen…where did the time go? Hutch! Hey, Hutch, come here! Hutch! I’m scared, Hutch…I don’t know where I am…I don’t understand…

“Starsk, wake up for me? I’m right here, Starsk…right here.”

Hutch was walking toward him, Kenny and Sarabet each clutching one of his hands. So beautiful, the three of them! Hair blowing around tanned faces, Sara’s little nose sunburned and Kenny’s freckles in bloom. And his Hutch. Hair as light as the sand, bleached and golden on his arms and legs, eyes reflecting the blue of the sky. The boy in his arms planted a wet kiss on his cheek and whispered ‘I love you, Poppa’ and wriggled his way to the sand to run and take Sara’s hand. The children scampered off, Kenny in the middle now, holding on tightly to the younger children, and as Starsky watched, they grew taller and older still–preteens, teen-agers. Wisp as tall as his Kenny, Sarabet petite between them. All grown up together. Gorgeous, healthy young people. Their kids.

Hutch? Please, babe, tell me what’s happening to me. Our kids! Look at our kids. Turning to Hutch, he felt something melt deep inside. Hutch. Face rounder, laugh lines creasing at his eyes and smile. Blond gone ash. Older. Still his in this forever place in time. And he saw himself reflected as if Hutch’s eyes were mirrors. Older, too. Pepper and salt, his own laugh lines. But more, the look of a man well loved, cherished, and wanted. Hutch? Our lives…where did they go? I hurt so much, Hutch. What happened? Where am I? Hutch? Hutch, help me, please, help me…

“That’s it Starsk, open your eyes for me. You’re going to be fine, hear me, Starsk?”

Starsky managed the struggle to the surface, opened his eyes, and the years of his dreams melted away. Hutch leaned over him, his Hutch, young and strong, waiting for him. Relief closed his eyes and he dimly felt a hand stroking his face.

“Okay, okay now, Starsk, it’s okay. Can you hear me, babe?”

Starsky blinked sleepily…he wanted to talk to Hutch, had to tell him what he had seen.

“S…saw Wisp…boy… Kenny…Sara…”

“Shh, don’t try to talk. We have another son, Starsk. Kiernan is here and safe. I just saw him in the nursery…he’s a beautiful boy. I told him all about you. Kenny and Sara are fine, Starsk. We’re all safe.”

Starsky smiled as much as the medications allowed him to and Hutch had a glimpse of the pride and joy he longed to share with him.

“Love him?”

“Yeah, buddy, just like you said. Rest now, Starsk…I’ll be here. Sleep, babe.”

“K…saw him…you….me…Poppa…”

Starsky was asleep. Hutch studied his face, wondering at his words, at what Starsky had seen. Poppa? Starsk, how did you…? A dream? There had been dreams after Gunther. Nightmares. In Starsky’s dreams, he lost Hutch. It was Hutch who had been shot, Hutch who had died in his hospital bed. In the worst of the dreams, Hutch never came back. Starsky’s dreams were brutal and bloody and left him shivering and exhausted and terrified. Frantically calling for Hutch, for the only presence that could calm him. Hutch dreamed of loneliness and emptiness, of life without Starsky. Drifting and lost and alone. Constantly reaching for someone who was no longer there to touch. Always the lone figure in his own dreams, Hutch had no destination, nothing to ground him, no Starsky. His dreams were all in white, an absence of color and life. His dreams left him weeping, praying that Starsky wouldn’t hear him, knowing from the sadness in Starsky’s eyes that he did.

He picked up Starsky’s hand and held it to his cheek, soaking in the warmth, the aliveness. What are you dreaming now, Starsk? Where did you go? Don’t go there again, Starsk, not without me…stay with me…always.

Hutch woke to a dimly lit hospital room, the steady beep of Starsky’s heart monitor reminding him over and over that Starsky had survived. He sat forward in his chair and studied his lover–watched his chest rise and fall, needing that physical reassurance from Starsky himself that this time wasn’t the same, that the horrors of Gunther had not come back full force. Carts wheeled by in the hallway, joined by the occasional squeak of rubber-soled shoes, but nobody disturbed them, they were alone with each other. Hutch leaned over and kissed his lover’s forehead, finding his skin cool and dry. He kissed his lips and nudged gently at his mouth.

“Love? Can you wake up for me? Starsk? I’m here, babe.”

Starsky’s head rolled weakly to the side, following the sound of Hutch’s voice.

“Starsk?” Hutch watched closely as the dark eyes struggled to open, his heart hitching at every bit of pain that shadowed them, watched in wonder as the pain fled when Starsky focused on him. Fell even more deeply in love when Starsky spoke.

“Hi…”

“Hi yourself. You’re going to be fine, babe. You’re safe.” Hutch kissed him again, his cheek coming to rest against Starsky’s. “Oh, God, babe, I was so damned scared…I love you so much…”

“‘S’okay…okay…love you, too…”

Starsky drifted back to sleep, still for a while, then dreaming. Hands restless on the sheets, his face telling a story of pain and fear. Hutch took his hand, soothing his thumb over its back and Starsky quieted and slept. Hutch kissed him again and then paced about the small room, looking out the window to find the early sun huge and red in the sky. The door to Starsky’s room opened and a nurse came in and nodded to him. Hutch detached himself from the moment as she checked Starsky over and took readings and temperature. Heard and ignored her admonishments to go home and sleep. She left and Hutch returned to his chair. He was tired. Convincing himself that the hospital-issue chair was comfortable, he fell asleep beside Starsky’s bed, one arm slipped between the guardrails, his hand pressed over his lover’s.

“You know? They told me he could never take another bullet, that it would kill him. When the hell is that boy ever going to listen to me?”

The voice, the memories it stirred, pulled Hutch out of his restless slumber. Of course there’s a chance, there’s always a chance… Harold Dobey stood in the doorway, sad eyes fixed on Starsky.

“Captain? Cap, when did you get here? God, it’s good to see you. I’m so glad you’re here, it’ll mean so much to Starsky.” Hutch was overjoyed at Dobey’s unexpected appearance and moved quickly to embrace and reassure him. “Cap, he’s going to make it…he’s going to be fine.” Hutch clasped his former commanding officer by his upper arms…he’s so thin, so frail…

“I told him, Hutch, told him he’d be safe with the captaincy. Dammit, I should have told him to get out. Now look at him, fighting again…hurting again.” The weary brown face turned to the man who had so dedicatedly served under his command. Eyes rheumy and hair gone white, old beyond his actual years, Harold Dobey rested heavily on the canes that supported his weight, his body weakened by the stroke that felled him shortly after Starsky’s breakdown. The stroke that had opened the position Starsky now claimed as his own. “Get him out now, Hutch, before it’s too late.”

“Captain, come sit down. Let’s talk…Starsky is going to be asleep for a long while, let’s talk.”

Dobey sank gratefully into the chair Hutch pulled up and steadied his eyes on Hutch’s face. Yes, Starsky will be fine, I can read it in your eyes, but something else is there, too, son. Tell me, Hutchinson, tell me what it is. “Tell me what happened, Hutch. How the hell did Starsky manage to get shot inside Parker Center? Rumor has it he took the bullets to save a woman. And rumor also has it that that woman was once your woman. What did you two get into this time? How badly was he wounded and what happened to that woman and why was she there to see Starsky?” Dobey finally ran out of air, his cards on the table, not a single interruption from Hutch. Time floated into a memory and Hutch was back in Dobey’s office, Starsky perched on the arm of his chair, listening intently, making sure they had every question of Dobey’s in their heads before they started to answer. I’ll take this one, buddy, you rest…

“The woman was Jeri Eastman, Captain, daughter of my employer at the legal firm I used to work for. Yes, at one time she was my woman, as you said. Jeri had hired a private investigator to tail Starsky and me.” Dobey’s eyebrows went up, but he merely nodded and waited for Hutch to continue. “This man had taken some…some rather damning pictures of Starsky and me. Together.” Hutch paused and took a deep gulp of air. May as well tell you, Cap… “Captain…”

Dobey held up a hand, cutting Hutch off. “Do you really think you’re about to tell me something I don’t know, Hutchinson? I mean the part about you and Starsky?” Hutch couldn’t help but be startled–how long had it been obvious to Dobey? “Never mind, Hutch…we’ll talk about that in a bit. Now go on and tell me what happened.”

“Sure, Captain…sure. The PI, he…he fell in love with Jeri, talked himself into thinking she wanted to be his. He had stirred up a lot of trouble and hurt a lot of people, and Jeri wanted to meet with Starsky and me to turn over all the negatives and reports this guy had accumulated. Since we were all going to be at or near Parker that day, Starsky asked her to meet us there.” Hutch paused and looked away from his former Captain, when he turned back his face was flushed and carried a look Dobey could still read well. Guilt. “Dammit, I was fifteen minutes late…fifteen lousy minutes! Jeri’s PI followed her there and from what they tell me he came out of the elevator ready to shoot, before Starsky could possibly know what was going down. Starsk put himself in front of Jeri, took a shot to the stomach and another to his neck…that bullet passed through and hit Jeri in the head.”

Hutch quit talking for a moment, giving Dobey time to absorb what he had told him, giving himself a badly needed minute. He left his chair and moved to Starsky’s bedside, drawing his fingers across the pale face that slept there. Lightly touching the bandaged neck and fussing with the blankets before turning back to Dobey. He didn’t care that Dobey saw his tears.

“Starsky didn’t think twice, Cap. He just did like he always did when we were cops together…put someone else’s life before his own. He tried so hard to save her… She died in surgery. Just after the doctors delivered my son.” Dobey drew in a sharp breath at that, but didn’t say anything, just let Hutch go on. “When I finally got through the crowd, the medics were working on Jeri…I…I couldn’t find Starsky at first…and when I did…” Hutch’s voice broke then and Dobey had to lean in close to hear his strained whisper as he continued. “I thought I would lose him, Captain, there was so much blood…he was just covered with it…and the wound to his neck…damn..damn it looked so bad!”

Desperate to move Hutch away from Starsky’s injuries and his self-imposed guilt, if only for a little while, Dobey squeezed Hutch’s arm. “Tell me about your son, Hutch.” Dobey’s reward was immediate. Hutch’s face cleared and sparkled with the joy of new fatherhood.

“Oh, Captain, the baby.” Hutch laughed out loud. “Guess I should quit calling him the baby. My son’s name is Kiernan Leif, Kiernan Leif Hutchinson.” Hutch had to smile at Dobey. “Of course, Starsky has been referring to him as Wisp and probably always will. Poor kid. He’s a beautiful boy, Cap. He’ll have to stay here another day to make sure everything is okay and then I’ll be taking him home. And in about a week, I’ll be bringing Starsky home, too. Jeri’s father wants nothing to do with Kiernan and her mother has passed away–but it wouldn’t have mattered if the old man did want him, Captain, I would have fought to keep him. Just like I’m fighting for Starsky. Because I love them. Starsky told me I’d fall in love with Kiernan the second I saw him and I did. He’s my boy.”

Dobey sat quietly, absorbing all he had just been told and feeling, delightedly so, like a grandfather. He and Edith had moved south after his stroke and he had only seen Starsky’s son Kenny a few times when he was new. Little Sarabet was known only through pictures and the pride in Starsky’s voice when he described his baby girl to his captain over the telephone. But the connection was always there, one of his ‘boys’ having kids of his own. And now another one…maybe it was time to renew some very important relationships. I’ll talk to Edith, maybe we could rent a little place up… Dobey’s thoughts were interrupted by a question from Hutch.

“Cap? You said you knew about Starsky and me. When? We didn’t really know ourselves until several months ago. What..?”

“When Starsky was shot, Hutch.”

Hutch stared at his Captain, wide-eyed with surprise. “That long ago? At that horrible time?”

“Oh, I had suspected before, but there were girlfriends, and you did lead separate lives. Well, at least for the most part. But when Gunther got to Starsky and we almost lost him, that’s when I knew.” Dobey laughed at the expression on Hutch’s face. “That’s when I knew, Hutch, took you two top cops a while longer.” Dobey shifted in his chair and smiled sadly at Hutch. “Do you remember much about the time right after Starsky was shot, Hutch? While he was still lying in the parking lot?”

“No…no, not really. I was so damned scared and I couldn’t get to him, there were so many cops trying to help. It was all I could do to get to his head and hold him. I remember talking to him, telling him over and over to hang on. God, Cap, he was bleeding from everywhere…guess that’s what I remember most, the blood. But why do you ask? What is it you know that I don’t remember?”

“I was right behind you, Hutch, hanging on to you in fact. I wanted to be near Starsky too, I just couldn’t imagine how he was going to survive. I…I cleared most of the cops away to give you and Starsky some privacy to say good-bye. I was the only one close enough to hear and I could hear every word you said to him, Hutch. You did tell him to hang on, just as you remember. You also told him how much you loved him and how you loved him and that you didn’t want anyone else in your life but him. And when he was better, you and he would always be together, loving each other forever. Your words went way beyond friendship, even beyond the friendship we all accepted between you and Starsky. Starsky opened his eyes, Hutch, do you remember that? No? He opened his eyes and smiled at you and you kissed him. He tried to tell you he loved you, too, Hutch, but he was just hurt too badly to do it. Then the medics arrived and that was that.”

Hutch sat in stupefied silence. That he had professed his love for Starsky, that he had kissed him as he lay dying on the ground…why couldn’t he remember that? He held no doubts that Dobey was telling him the truth–Dobey never lied to them. But why was this old news from Dobey so new? Starsky had never mentioned it him. Did he remember? Considering his condition at the time, it was highly improbable…but Starsky had made the first moves in their love affair, Starsky had been so sure, so wanting. Maybe, maybe somewhere deep down inside he did remember. Had always known.

“Captain, I don’t know what to say…why didn’t I act on my words and feelings when Starsky recovered? I did know back then, I had to have! But I didn’t…what the hell was the matter with me?”

“Listen to me a minute, Hutch, before you go beating yourself up. You and Starsky have always protected one another. From everything. I have no doubts that Starsky loved his wife, but I think he married her more out of his love for you. He was protecting you and your career the same as he would protect you from a bullet. Denying himself, giving himself up…whatever you want to call it, he did it for you. And you did the same for him when you quit the force. You knew better than anybody that Starsky couldn’t handle the streets anymore, hell, the man had a breakdown! So you left knowing Starsky would never go back to the streets without you. That he would take the captaincy and a desk. To you, that was the only way you could guarantee he would stay off the streets. And Starsky separated himself from you and your friendship so you would never be tempted to go back either, to him or the streets. You arranged each other’s lives to take care of each other. You two are the most stubborn, bullheaded men I have ever known.”

Dobey’s face went soft and his voice matched his expression when he continued. “I regret to this day that I never said anything, it was damned hard watching you pull away from each other. I hope you can understand that I felt I had to protect you both, too. Don’t wait any longer, son, don’t let society dictate what you should do with your lives. Starsky belongs with you as much as I belong with Edith. Your time together is precious, Hutch, keep each other safe and cherish it together.” Dobey paused just long enough to make certain that he had Hutch’s full attention. “And drop the guilt, Hutchinson, that’s an order. You should have learned by now that life takes turns we can’t control and don’t always understand. Don’t waste anymore time! Move on. Now, let me have a minute to talk to Starsky and then I want to go upstairs and meet that boy of yours.”

Hutch listened quietly as his former captain talked to the still sleeping Starsky. Bits and pieces of the past drifted forward, riding in on Dobey’s voice, reminding Hutch of all Dobey had gone through with him and Starsky. Blood spilled, loves lost, the times when he and Starsky had given it all up and resigned out of anger or despair. And the times they had triumphed, the times that made all that happened worth it. Dobey’s pride was on his shirtsleeve right next to his heart when he told Starsky he was a hero–that he was safe and would be all right. Starsky stirred at that, but stayed asleep and Hutch remembered that other time: when Starsky finally woke up after Gunther. Starsky had heard Hutch and Dobey while he slept then, too, the power of their friendships transcending coma and drug-induced sleep. Hutch’s eyes closed as his captain murmured a quick prayer of thanks.

“Now, tell that partner of yours you’ll be back. I have a grandson to see.”

Dobey was treated to one of Hutch’s, as Starsky called them, loopy grins. Dobey moved to the door and watched as Hutch leaned over and whispered in Starsky’s ear and kissed his mouth. And Dobey was pleased with himself when the display of affection did nothing more than warm his heart. Hutch could just make out Dobey’s words as they left the room.

“Good, good.”

Dobey and Hutch laughed themselves silly in the elevator on their way down to the main floor.

“Did you see the look on that nurse’s face, Hutch? Kiernan’s great uncle! ‘Family Only’ just took on a whole new meaning.”

“Think she believed me though, Cap! Especially when I told her you were on my mother’s side.” Hutch leaned on the elevator wall, still smiling, but gaining control. “Felt good to laugh, really good, haven’t been doing too much of that lately. Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.”

Dobey stopped him. “I’ll be fine, Hutch, you get back to Starsky and remember what I said. You and Starsky enjoy your lives.” Dobey shook Hutch’s hand and issued a final order. “Take care of him, Hutch. Take care of each other.”

Hutch was still smiling when the elevator stopped at Starsky’s floor. Then the door slid open and any vestige of a smile or laughter disappeared. Liz Starsky was slumped in her father’s arms just outside Starsky’s room, sobbing into Jacob’s chest. Queenie stood a few feet away from them, a pale and silent sentry staring into the room as doctors and nurses flowed around her, their trips to and from Starsky’s room paced with urgency.

“Starsk? Oh, no…please, God…”

Hutch ran. Queenie called and tried to stop him. Jacob called to him, too, his words that Starsky was all right but having pain barely registering. Liz brought him up cold.

“Stay away from him, Ken…don’t you dare go in there!”

Hutch stopped and looked at Liz as an expression he could not place fluttered across her face, rapidly replaced by another. This look Hutch knew. He had seen it before from Liz–maybe not as openly obvious as now–but he had seen it. Anger. Anger at his very presence. It was her words that identified the unknown facial expression and gave it a name. Hate. Liz Starsky’s face was filled with hate.

“Maybe you can tell me why it’s Dave lying in that room instead of you. Maybe you can tell me what the hell he was thinking when he did this!” Liz’s words spat at Hutch.

“Liz? What are you…?”

Jacob and Queenie pulled at their daughter, shushing her to no avail. Liz was going to have her say. She grabbed Hutch’s arm and held fast, her fingers white in her fury.

“He has children! He should have been thinking of his own kids. You should have been with Jeri Eastman, Ken, not Dave. When is he ever going to put someone else first? Someone besides you?”

“Don’t, Liz. David…”

“Don’t what, Ken? Say what’s true? How many times is he supposed to sacrifice himself for you? What am I supposed to tell Kenny and Sara?”

Hutch could only stare. At Liz. At her parents standing with their arms around each other, clearly not knowing if they should support their daughter or demand she leave.

“Hutch? Hutch where…?” Starsky called weakly from his room and Hutch disengaged himself from Liz’s fingers, forcing himself to be gentle and respectful of Starsky’s wife, easing her back to her parents. He turned on his heel the second he was free and pushed his way to Starsky’s side.

“Shhh, Starsk, take it easy…I’m here now. I’m here, David. Can you breathe for me, buddy? Take it slow? Okay…it’s okay…” Damn, Starsk, what happened?

Starsky calmed, sinking back into the bed, his hand clutching Hutch’s. His eyes locked on his lover and he let Hutch take some of the hurt away. Dr. Bradford was explaining in Hutch’s ear–visitor upset him…woke up wanting you…pain…in pain… Something was injected into Starsky’s IV tubing and relief came quickly, his doctors finally relaxing at what the monitors told them. Sleep beckoned and Starsky desperately wanted to let its curtains fall back around him, but what had awakened him was holding sleep at bay and he pulled Hutch closer.

“Hutch…Liz…try and…”

“Shh, babe, she’s out in the hall waiting. Want me to get her for you?” Oh, Starsk, I’ll try, I promise, but right now…

“Wait…Hutch…she’s scared…doesn’t mean…”

Starsky lost the battle and slipped back into sleep. Hutch wearily ran his hand through his hair, wishing he shared his partner’s attitude. Liz was scared, he knew that; hell, they were all scared. He heard the nurse talking in the hallway with Liz and her parents. Liz’s tone was calmer, she was asking a lot of questions and getting answers, and Hutch was grateful that someone else had taken over, at least for that. Hutch could feel his own anger building at Liz’s earlier words and he wasn’t certain he could trust himself just yet. He owed it to Liz to talk to her, Starsky would want him to. Want him to reassure her, ask after the kids. Gonna leave this one to me, huh, babe? Hutch fussed with Starsky’s blankets for a moment, taking the time to satisfy himself that Starsky was sleeping without pain. He kissed him and whispered in his ear that he would be back and left Starsky’s side to go and talk with Liz.

Liz and her family had moved to the small waiting area at the end of the hall. Hutch made a quick stop to grab coffee, well aware that Liz was watching him. She took the offered coffee, staring at Hutch over the rim of the cup, her eyes still angry. Jacob and Queenie sat off to the side, watching their daughter and talking quietly between themselves.

“He’s asleep.” Hutch stared back. “Liz, I’m not going to ask you what happened in that room, but I want you to know a few things. First, it never happens again. Second, about what you said before…that it should have been me, not David? Do you think for a minute that I don’t agree with that? I’d give anything to take his place…”

Liz set her coffee down hard. “Stop, Ken. Your words are too predictable. I mean, what else can you possibly say? I’ve heard all the stories. Dave would never think twice about dying for you. And now he was willing to die to save your child with no thought at all about his own. When is enough going to be enough? Not until he’s dead?” Liz’s parents’ admonitions were echoed by Hutch’s.

“Stop, Liz!” Hutch grabbed her roughly by her arms, refusing to let go even when she struggled. He was aware of Jacob standing and being pulled back by Queenie and eased his grip. “You had your turn, Liz, now you listen to me. Don’t you dare belittle what David did. Yes, he saved my child. Yes, he was desperate to try and save Jeri. And yes, he damn near was killed. But don’t you see, Liz? That’s what being David Starsky is all about. It wouldn’t have mattered to him if the person he was protecting from John Haddon had been a total stranger–David would have done his best to save that person, too. And as far as dying for each other goes? Yes, Liz, David and I would die for each other in a heartbeat. When I say I would trade places with him I mean it! Liz? Liz, do you really think that David would have reacted any other way when Haddon stepped out of that elevator with a gun?” Liz had quit fighting, limp in Hutch’s hands, trembling and crying. Hutch pulled her close for a second, then cupped her face in his hands. “David Starsky is the strongest, bravest man I know. Please, Liz, don’t try to take that from him. He needs your support now, needs to know his kids are being taken care of, that you’re going to be okay.”

Hutch could say no more, didn’t have to. Liz leaned into his body and he held her and let her cry. Over her shoulder, he saw Starsky’s surgeon take Starsky’s chart from the nurse’s station and hurry toward his room. Dr. Ninio saw Hutch and motioned for him to give him a minute with his patient.

“Liz? David’s surgeon just went into his room. Let’s drink our coffee and then we can go in and see how he’s doing. Okay?”

Liz nodded her agreement, wiping at her tears. She took her coffee and walked to the window. Hutch studied her. Liz Starsky was a beautiful woman, beauty she had passed on to her children. Kenny with her coloring and eyes, Starsky’s build and hands and feet. Sarabet with her father’s curls and eyes in a very feminine version of Starsky’s face, the rest of her all Liz, as if she and Starsky had picked and chosen which child would have which of their features. Hutch felt an ache deep in his soul that blossomed into the need to go see his own son again, to see if Kiernan held Jeri in his face or the shape of his hands. He wondered if Liz would want to know the little boy he and Starsky considered to be Kenny and Sarabet’s brother. He didn’t want their kids to be separated into Starsky kids and Hutchinson kids, raised with different rules, taught different values, the ‘that’s okay at your house but not at mine’ sort of family. He didn’t want any one of them left behind. Kenny and Sarabet and Kiernan deserved to be family.

“Liz? After we speak with David’s doctor, will you come upstairs with me? I’d like you to meet Kiernan.”

“I…I don’t know, Ken. Maybe some…”

“Liz,” Hutch’s voice was soft, almost pleading…if she just sees him…how sweet he is…how worth all of this he is… “Kiernan isn’t to blame for any of this. He’s going to be part of all of our lives. Please, Liz. For David. And for Kenny and Sarabet, too.”

Liz’s face softened at the mention of her children and she looked to her parents. Queenie and Jacob nodded at her in unison and Hutch was reminded of Queenie telling Starsky that she and Jacob were each other’s soul. Liz started to answer when Dr. Ninio called from the hallway.

“Ken, David’s awake and asking for you.”

Hutch held his hand out to Liz. Please? Come with me? She hesitated briefly before curling her fingers around Hutch’s and together they went to see Starsky.

Starsky’s surgeon was just finishing, tucking Starsky’s blankets back over his abdomen, cracking wise with his patient, advising him to stop getting shot.

“Seriously, David, no more bullets.” Starsky mumbled some sleepy response along the lines of ‘tell that to the bad guys’ and his doctor turned with a pat to his patient’s knee and spoke with Hutch and Liz.

“Not too long now, he’s had another injection to help him sleep. I’ve explained to David that the sudden, sharp pains in his belly will diminish as his stomach heals. Both wounds look real good, no infection. We’ll be taking that heavy bandage off of his neck later today–should make him more comfortable. What he needs most is sleep.” Dr. Ninio looked pointedly at Hutch and Liz. “And quiet. Don’t upset him again. I’ll be by later after my rounds, we can talk more then.”

Hutch thanked the doctor and walked him to the door, smiling when Liz warned Dr. Ninio that her parents were in the hall and would undoubtedly waylay him and ask lots of questions. Hutch turned back and his eyes met Liz’s and something passed between them. Some starting of an understanding, some easing of their emotional pain. He stayed by the door and watched as Liz leaned over Starsky’s bed and softly called to him. Starsky had closed his eyes while Dr. Ninio spoke with Liz and Hutch. They opened again when Liz touched his face. Liz found she couldn’t help her tears.

“Liz… Don’t be angry, honey, I’m sorry…”

“No, Dave, no. Don’t be sorry. Everything will be all right. Listen, Ken and I are going to go upstairs now and see his son. You sleep, Dave. We’ll be back later. Mom and Dad will be back to see you later, too.”

“Kids?”

“They’re fine…their Uncle Mark has them out on the boat.”

Starsky accepted that and looked as if he had fallen back to sleep. Hutch and Liz were stopped at the door by one more request.

“Tell ’em I love ’em. Please, Liz?”

“I will, they know…now sleep, Dave. We all need you to get better.”

Liz’s visit to Kiernan was short. She held him in that nursery where she and Starsky had fallen in love with their own babies, and wanted nothing more than to leave. Bittersweet was leaning to bitter and she wanted to get away before she lost control again. I shouldn’t have come up here, this baby…this poor baby… Kiernan fussed in her arms and Hutch reached for him. Liz transferred the child tenderly and went directly to the door. Hutch called softly, asking her to wait for him. Liz nodded and stepped into the hallway, waiting while Hutch said good-bye to his son.

“Liz…Liz, are you all right?”

“Yes…I just… Just a lot of memories, too many to deal with right now, Ken. I want to collect my parents and get home to my children. I’m sorry about waking Dave, about the things I said.” Liz took a deep breath. “I’m still angry…so damn angry at both of you. I can’t help that. I need more time. I came up here for Dave’s sake…because I know our kids and Kiernan will be raised together.” Liz laughed and for a moment Hutch had a glimpse of the vibrant woman Starsky had fallen in love with. “Sarabet will think she has her very own live babydoll.” The moment passed and Liz headed toward the elevator. “Let me go down alone, would you, Ken? Just give me about ten minutes so my parents can say good-bye to Dave, I promise we won’t wake him. If you could call and let me know how he is?”

The elevator door closed as Hutch nodded his agreement. He turned back to the nursery and stood at the large viewing window. He had forgotten. Forgotten that he and Starsky had stood here looking in on Kenny. Starsky rocking on his toes, making no bones about his pride, no bones about his love for his partner, telling anyone who would listen. His name is Kenneth…after my best friend. The best friend who had drifted away, gone full circle, and returned. To everything, Starsk, to everything…

David Starsky had never looked more beautiful. Strikingly handsome in a black suit, the lace shawl that wrapped Kiernan Hutchinson draped over his arms, contrasting sweetly against the dark fabric. His head was bowed over the infant he cradled, curls shining subtly in the subdued light that filtered through old stained glass, his face and eyes soft with love. His little Sarabet cuddled against her father’s leg, clinging to the soft, white corner of Kiernan’s shawl, staring up at her father and the baby he held. Her new baby brother, her daddy’s Godson.

Hutch stood proudly across from Starsky, his suit the darkest of grays, spun-gold hair sharing the dance of stained glass colors with his partner’s. Kenny Starsky stood beside him, Hutch holding on tightly to his namesake’s hand, the little boy fidgety and solemn at the same time.

Here in this simple nondenominational church, Kiernan Leif Hutchinson was being celebrated, and through him, his father, his Godfather, and his brother and sister. This tiny boy, dressed in satin and lace, so loved, surrounded by his family and friends, offering hope and the continuation of life.

“And how shall this child be raised?”

Starsky answered, his eyes fixed on his Hutch, his voice filled with all that was between them.

“He shall be raised with love and acceptance and honesty. We shall guide him and cherish him and grow with him. We will teach him the meaning of family and through us he shall know his mother.” Starsky’s voice faltered, the loss of Jeri Eastman painful and still fresh. “He shall know she loved him and sacrificed for him. And he shall know his mother would have taught him all that we shall.

“I love Kiernan Leif Hutchinson as I love my children Kenny and Sarabet. As Kiernan’s father loves all of our children.” Starsky looked down at the sleeping baby he held. “I promise you, Kiernan. I will always love you and I will always keep you safe. I take you as my son and hold you in my heart.” Starsky’s eyes locked on Hutch’s as he finished his vow to Kiernan. “Forever.”

The hammock under the trees that bordered Hutch’s rose garden swayed lazily, its occupants sleeping in the gentle afternoon breeze. Kiernan slept on Starsky’s chest, Kenny and Sarabet each claimed a side. Kiernan’s big day had worn all of them out. Hutch sat and watched his family as he and his guitar sang of joy and triumph and love, and Hutch knew he would never need more in his life than what was before him.

Starsky had been home for just under a month. He was healing well physically and, with Hutch’s encouragement, had sought counseling while still hospitalized. Counseling that included both Hutch and Liz, and then Kenny and Sarabet, too. The shadows that haunted and terrorized him after Gunther failed to re-materialize. All that continued to loom before him and Hutch was their future, and before him and Liz, raising their kids together. There were decisions to be made about his career, but for the moment, Starsky had set those aside. He was healthy and getting stronger every day, and he was enjoying life–in love with Hutch and their children, at peace with Liz and her family. Life was good and he and Hutch cherished the gifts they had been given.

Hutch started with Kenny, picking the sleeping boy up and carrying him to bed, smiling at the memory of Kenny and Sarabet’s happiness over their new room courtesy of Quentin Cohen. Their trundle bed shared space with Kiernan’s crib and a toy store worth of toys. “You’re spoiling our kids, Quentin…” “Yes, Ken, I am. Don’t argue with your boss, Ken.” A bumped-out wall yielded a large bedroom and extra bath, rounding out the Hutchinson Starsky home. Hutch made another trip for Sara, another for Kiernan, and the last for Starsky.

“Babe? Come inside with me?”

Starsky blinked sleepily and pulled himself out of the hammock and into Hutch’s waiting arms. Hutch held him, there in the garden, recalling that time not so long ago when he and Starsky had reaffirmed their love on the grass below their feet.

“Starsk…?”

“I remember, Hutch… Was right here…”

“Seems like a lifetime ago.”

“Yeah…maybe in a way it was. So much has happened, babe…so much has turned out so good.” Starsky pulled back and gazed into Hutch’s eyes, running his fingers through breeze-tousled hair, cupping the back of Hutch’s neck and pulling him into a kiss–a gentle probe with his tongue, a tender bite to Hutch’s lower lip. Twin kisses to closed eyes. “Hutch…”

“You sure, David?” Hutch held every inch of Starsky close, feeling all the familiar signals. Wanting him in return. “I don’t want you to hurt…hasn’t been that long.”

“I won’t hurt, babe. Nothing you do could ever hurt me. I want you, Hutch. Take me to bed, love me, let me love you?”

“The kids…”

“Will sleep.” Starsky smiled and shook his head at his lover. “If they wake up, we pick up where we left off later. Parents love each other, babe, our kids know that.” Starsky returned to Hutch’s mouth, making love to its feel and textures and wetness. His hands traveled in every direction at once, making Hutch groan into his mouth and press tightly to his groin. “Hutch…now, Hutch…please.”

Behind the closed door of their bedroom, they loved each other. New scars were caressed and stroked with an eager tongue, welcomed to Starsky’s body for what they were. Symbols of love, bravery, and total selflessness. Secret places were joyously rediscovered, explored until once again familiar, and then consumed in sheer pleasure. Starsky lay over his lover, taking Hutch until they were one body–joined by genitals and mouths and hands. Their lovemaking was slow, seeking out every sensation, every want, and finally they came together, muting each other’s shouts with mouths and tongues, silencing satisfied cries against a long neck and a furred chest. Starsky fell back to sleep where he lay on Hutch’s body, held by large hands that continued their petting, soothing Starsky and finding reassurance for Hutch in the warmth of Starsky’s flesh.

Eventually daylight found dusk and Hutch knew naptime would be ending for at least two of the kids. Easing Starsky to his side, he kissed his lover awake, watching every second it took until dark blue eyes peered out from their fringe of dark lashes. Lashes he took a moment to trace with his finger and kiss and claim.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself, love. Think we ought to get up and make dinner for our kids, don’t you?” “Hmm…better shower.”

“Go ahead, Starsk, I’ll check on the kids and take mine after you.”

Hutch pulled Starsky to his feet and pointed him in the direction of the bathroom, watching the smooth ripples of muscle as Starsky gathered his clothing, watching the bounce that ran from ass to feet as he walked to the doorway. Smiled back at the face that looked at him over one broad shoulder. Answered the eyes that made a promise for later that night with his own. The bathroom door closed and Hutch moved to the kids’ bedroom. Kenny was just stirring, smiling even as he woke, so much his father that Hutch was overwhelmed with love for the little boy. Kenny drifted back to sleep and Hutch stood in the doorway and listened to the three little lives in the room. Memorized the sounds they made in sleep, tucked their images away to keep, and lost all track of time.

“Hutch?” His name was accompanied by the shower-warmed body of his lover pressing against his back.

“Just watchin’, babe…can’t take my eyes off of the three of them. Thinking about what they’ll look like when they’ve grown up. Kind of wish we could keep them little.” He turned to Starsky then, running a finger over a freshly shaved cheek. “You know?”

“Yeah. If only we could, Hutch. Make time stand still…always be young.” Starsky held Hutch close and kissed the face he cherished, pressed his mouth to the mouth he adored. “We can’t do that, babe…can’t stay young forever. But we can get old together…think that means more to me than stayin’ young. Being with you for the rest of my life. I love you, Hutch. For always and a day, I love you.”

“Starsk…I…”

“I know, babe, you don’t have to say it back to me. I know. Now come on, you know our kids wake up hungry.”

Hutch released his lover and headed toward their bedroom, pausing at the door, waiting silently until Starsky knew and turned to him.

“Forever, Starsk.”