Tell Me Nine Truths

5.6K

This story is the sequel to Ninety-Nine Miles From LA.

 

Edited and published by Lucy and Elaine in the zine Leave a Light On For Me, in October of 2002.

---

Chapter 1

The phone rang and Starsky had almost given up on it being answered when a sleepy stretch could be heard, followed by, “Lo.”

“What time did you get in last night? I didn’t even hear you come in,” Starsky asked softly, turning his back to shield the conversation from the other people at some distance away, but still in the same Records and Information office.

“I guess it was a little after four. You were sawing logs. But we’re even, I didn’t hear you leave this morning either, thanks,” Hutch answered.

“This schedule sucks!” Starsky said. “We never see each other. I’ll be glad when I get the final okay and can get off this damned desk duty and back with you, where I belong.” And Steve gets another assignment.

“I know, babe. It won’t be much longer now. The review process is week after next. Right? Once you pass the PT obstacle course, you’ll be getting in when I do at four a.m. You sure you want back on the streets that bad?” Hutch’s voice clearly sounded a smile as he spoke.

“I want to be your partner again. If I have one more day of filing and doing record searches I’m going to kill the first thing I see leaving here in the afternoon.”

Hutch chuckled warmly into the phone. “Maybe Steve and I will be lucky tonight and we’ll get this nut that’s beating up guys coming out of gay bars and I’ll get the weekend off.” Hutch lowered his voice to purr into the phone. “While you’re sitting there waiting to do another search, I’m sure you can let your mind wander and think of some interesting things for us to do with a whole weekend off. Hmmmm?”

“I won’t get much done at all now since I have to wait for the boner I’m sporting to die down before I can finish my lunch and go back to work. Thanks a hell of a lot.”

“You could always pretend it’s my mouth…”

“That’s enough of that!” Starsky interrupted. “I’ll get out of here as early as I can. At least I can see you for ten minutes before you head out the door.”

“I’ll have something waiting for you to eat…”

Starsky groaned.

“I was being serious here. I took some chicken out to defrost,” Hutch’s tone signaled his affront. “Hurry home, Gordo. I miss you.”

“Yeah, same here. ‘Bye.” Starsky hung up the phone and, giving himself a quick readjustment, stood up and went back to his temporary desk to plug away at the never ending stack of things to file.

Two hours later he stood again to stretch and, with a check at the significant dent he’d made in the stack, he glanced at his watch. “Twenty to three,” he muttered. A smile broke across his face. I’ve got time to get over to the range and do a firing set. That’s something I have to do before I come back anyway. I could get it done today and be that much ahead of the game. It’s just all the stationary target stuff. The simulation set maybe Hutch can run with me this weekend and see how it goes. Straightening up his desk, a quick peck on Minnie’s cheek, and he was out of the building and into the early afternoon sunshine. He stopped to take a deep breath of the warm air, completely oblivious to the smog and bus fumes it was laden with.

“Preliminary psyche panel last week, so that’s done. I gave them the recommendations from the doctor. That’s in the file. Now I show the firing range scores from today, then it’s just go through the PT course and pass it.”

Even as he said it he felt the butterflies a bit. “Damn the schedule you’re on, Hutch.” Starsky grunted as he got in the car and drove the short distance to the Police Academy firing range. The case in question that was keeping his lover so busy was a rash of men and women beaten late at night as they were leaving bars in the gay district off Sunset. The latest resulted in an older man with a bad heart dying. Hutch and Steve Bussell, Hutch’s temporary partner, had drawn the case. Starsky had seen precious little of Hutch since. The plans they’d had to do the simulation range and the PT course had fallen through the cracks of Hutch going to work at 6 p.m. and covering the bars until closing at 4 a.m. Starsky usually got home in time to see him out the door, then spend a boring evening at home alone… going to bed alone… to have Hutch stagger in at four or after, then sleep through Starsky getting quietly ready for work the next morning.

Not fair! He complained to himself as he drove, forcing his concentration to stay on the issue of not seeing Hutch or spending time with his lover rather than acknowledging the fact that his lover was spending so much more time with the temporary partner who had the hots for him.

He slammed down his mind on that train of thought. “Nothing either of us can do about it right now.” Starsky muttered under his breath. “Hutch hates it as much as I do,” he affirmed. He gave his head a quick shake to rid his mind of the pictures that came to accompany thoughts like those. Pictures he couldn’t get out of his mind’s eye. Pictures that plagued his dreams at night, replacing the old ones of twisted metal and automatic weapon fire with writhing bodies locked in passion. “To be honest, I don’t know which ones hurt the most…pain’s unbearable either way.”

He pulled the car into a parking spot and sat a few seconds getting a handle on the hurt. The pain gradually faded giving rise to a wave of anger. Starsky slammed his fist on the top of his steering wheel. “Damn you to hell, Hutchinson!” The rage left almost as quickly as it had come, but it left enough of a niggling ache to linger in his thoughts. “I told him I forgave him, so why the hell can’t I forget it?” He sighed heavily and got out of the car, ramming his keys into his jacket pocket. “Maybe I’m just feeling the anger I should have felt then.” That was the question that troubled him lately and he asked it of himself over and over. “Do I really forgive him?” Starsky flashed his badge and entered the range area, signing in at the desk. I love him, he loves me, we’ll get through this, he thought the familiar mantra. Don’t think about it now, anyway.

 ***

The phone was ringing as he let himself in Hutch’s apartment. Tossing the grocery sack on the couch he grabbed for the phone. “Hello,” Starsky answered a little breathlessly.

“Hi yourself,” Hutch’s voice washed soothingly over him. “I tried calling you at work to let you know I had to go in early but I missed you.”

“I went to the range to do some firing. I saw your car was gone when I got home so I figured as much. Thanks for the chicken, it was good. I went by the store and picked up a couple of things you needed. Thought you’d like to crash in your bed for a change, huh?”

“As long as you’re there, any bed’s okay.” Hutch answered, the words all but drowned out by the music as the band resumed.

“Hey, blondie, when you come in tonight…”

“Yeah?”

“Strip at the door. I’ll catch a nap now and set the clock. I’ll be waiting for you. Even if you don’t get the weekend off, tomorrow’s Saturday. We’ll still have all day before you go in Saturday night.”

“Want me to bring anything?”

“Just you… naked.” Starsky smiled as he thought he heard Hutch’s breath hitch just before hanging up.

Starsky whistled tunelessly as he put the few groceries away and grabbed a beer, then began working on his plans for the evening. With a glance at his watch he went back to the phone. “Better give Ma a call before it gets any later. He dialed the New York number and waited.

“Hi, Ma, how’s it going?” Starsky asked when he heard his mother answer from the other end. He sat on the couch, feet propped on the coffee table, listening to her relate the neighborhood news. When she finished she hesitated slightly.

“What is it, Ma?”

“I’ve got the house on the market to sell. It’s too much for me to take care of anymore. I’m all alone here, what do I want with so big a place? It’s just a lot to clean. I need to live in something smaller.”

“Ma, if you want to stay there but you need some cleaning help, get someone to come in, I’ll pay for it,” Starsky offered.

“No, it’s not just that I think it’s time. I found a nice place that has large kitchenettes in a big tower like one of those large hotels. It’s got good security, and a dining room so if you don’t feel like cooking you can just go downstairs and eat. A lot of my friends have moved there over the past few years. Mrs. Noble, remember her? She lives there. Moved in right after she fell at home and broke her hip. Mr. Keopke moved there about three months ago. Then Harriet Zychowitz  moved in while I was out there visiting you. I won’t be lonely, I’ll know almost everyone there.”

“Is it what you want to do, Ma, or something Nicky suggested?” Starsky asked, wishing he were there to see his mother’s face.

“It’s what I want. I think it will be best for a lot of good reasons. It’s just going to be so much work to get ready to move. I have so many things to go through. What to keep… what not… Everything won’t fit in the apartment of course, and then there are all the trunks and boxes of things in the basement and attic.”

“Okay, Ma, listen. If you’re sure it’s really what you want to do, I’ll come and help. I’ll call and see when I can get a flight out. I’m not back to active duty yet, so it will be a lot easier getting the time off to come now than in a few weeks. I’ll help you go through everything. It’ll be good, don’t worry about anything, okay?”

“Oh, honey, I don’t want you to do that…”

“It’s fine, honest, Ma. The timing couldn’t be better. I’ll call you tomorrow when I know what time I’ll be getting in and you can send that brother of mine to pick me up at the airport.”

“Okay… I’ll look forward to talking to you tomorrow. Thanks, Davey. How are you feeling, you never said.”

“I’m fine, Ma. Doing just great.”

“How’s Hutch?”

“He’s fine too. He’s working tonight and I’m keeping the home fires burning.”

“Will Hutch come with you?”

“No.” Starsky felt the finality of that click into place. “He’s busy working on a case right now. He wouldn’t be able to get away, and once I get back on the streets, I wouldn’t either. So that’s why the timing is perfect. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Say hi to Nicky for me, and warn him that I’m coming so he can clean up his act.”

“David,” his mother scolded, then blew a kiss into the phone before saying goodbye.

Starsky hung up the phone and took along swallow of his beer. The more he thought about it the more he was sure this was the right thing to do to lay his ghosts to rest. “Now all I have to do is convince Hutch,” he muttered.

The evening wore on and Starsky mentally went over how he’d tell Hutch of his plan. He’d pictured a dozen inflammatory responses on Hutch’s part. That would be inevitable. He could only hope they’d blow over and he’d be able to calm Hutch down so the last few evenings of their time before Starsky left would be pleasant.

Tired of thinking about the never ending scenarios, he got up and went to run water in the bath tub. Taking a paperback with him to enjoy the soak, he relaxed into the hot water. Starsky was just about to drain the cooling water and get out when he heard the key in the door.

“Hutch?” he called from the tub hearing the door shut softly.

“I thought you might already be asleep,” Hutch answered, leaning into the steamy room.

“I said I’d wait up, didn’t I?” Starsky looked hungrily at his lover. “You were supposed to strip once you got in the door. What’s with still having clothes on, blondie?”

Hutch’s face broke into a smile in spite of his tired looking eyes and he backed out of the room to lose the clothes.

Starsky let the hot water tap run a slow stream of hot water to freshen the cooling tub. With a stretch he reached for the matches to light the candles he’d placed around the edge. When he looked up again it was as Hutch entered to stand naked next to the tub. “Kill the lights,” Starsky ordered softly.

Starsky held out his hand and gave a gentle tug closer, running his wet warm hands up the back of Hutch’s legs, starting midcalf. He leaned toward the edge of the tub as his hands rubbed firmer strokes on the back of Hutch’s thighs. The erection so tantalizingly close to his face bobbed with enthusiasm. Starsky let his tongue run the underside as Hutch’s erection continued to fill. Starsky felt long fingers tangle against his scalp urging him to take more of the cock in. He heard the rewarding groan from Hutch’s throat when he gave the tip a single swirl before pulling as much of the large cock in his mouth as he could and sucking hard back to the tip.

Starsky pulled back removing his mouth all together and looked up at the wall of tan skin standing in front of him. Hutch still held Starsky’s head loosely but his own was thrown back exposing his long neck. Starsky grasped Hutch’s wrists and used them as leverage to stand and pulled Hutch against him, steadying him as he stepped in the tub. “You are so beautiful. How’d I get so lucky, huh?” Starsky warded off any answer by taking Hutch’s mouth in a deep kiss, plastering his wet body against the blond’s. He eased down to sit in the water, turning Hutch to sit and rest back against him. Hutch let his head fall back against Starsky’s shoulder with a contented sigh, running his hands up and down Starsky’s legs where they cradled his own. Starsky’s hands reached for the soap and drew lazy slippery circles over Hutch’s smooth chest and stomach, easing down lower to encase the cock that so stridently poked up out of the water. Starsky’s strokes gradually became firmer and faster as Hutch moaned, his head tossing back and forth against Starsky’s neck.

“No, let’s take it in the bedroom,” Hutch pleaded. “I haven’t been with you in ages, and I don’t want it to be a quickie. I want to really make love to you. Starsky, I need to feel you…”

“You are feeling me, babe,” Starsky answered against Hutch’s ear. Sheering off the bubbles on Hutch’s chest, Starsky raised his hips to slick his own cock and nudged Hutch to lean forward. Starsky eased in two fingers and felt Hutch tremble. The cock in his other hand became impossibly harder. He removed his fingers, scissoring them on the way out, and centered himself at Hutch’s opening. “Lean back babe, I want to slide in real slow. I’m going to feel so deep you’ll think I’m all the way to your heart. Ease on down, that’s it. Oh God, Hutch, you feel so good.” Starsky’s voice quivered and he felt his own legs tremble in his effort to make good on his promise of taking it slow.

Hutch had a white knuckle grip on each of Starsky’s thighs as he levered himself down to complete penetration. Starsky’s angle hit Hutch’ prostate with even the smallest of movements and Starsky knew neither of them would last long this way. He stopped moving and eased Hutch’s head back against his shoulder. Kissing his face and whispering endearments, he tried to slow things down. He changed his tempo with the hand holding Hutch’s cock to long slow lightly touching strokes, swirling his thumb around the head as the pre-cum presented itself.

He gradually firmed up the grip, tickling around the rim of Hutch’s ear with his tongue and sucking in the earlobe. “I love you… more than anything.” More than anybody, Starsky finished to himself.

“I love you, more,” came the familiar reply as Starsky felt Hutch tighten his internal muscles around Starsky’s cock, urging him to begin moving again. They picked up speed and rushed headlong into the throes of orgasm, not noticing at all the amount of water that got sloshed over the side of the tub.

Starsky held tightly to his lover as he felt the shaking and hard drawn breaths gradually slow. With a playful splash to wash the white droplets of sperm off Hutch’s chest and belly he eased back and toed the tub’s water release. As his spent cock slid slowly from his lover’s body he stood up, dragging Hutch with him. The warm-fuzzy and sated face that he turned to him warmed his heart and he drew his fingers through the soft blond hair to push it away from his forehead. Hutch leaned down and kissed Starsky, softly, gently, as he so often did after they made love.

“You’re such a mushball to kiss when you’re finished,” Starsky teased, leaning in to claim one more. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Uhmmmm,” came the only answer as the blond swiped at his hair with the towel before letting it drop.

Starsky tugged Hutch a little closer and pulled the covers up over both of them. “Make any headway tonight? You’re home earlier than I thought you’d be,” Starsky whispered into the damp blond hair.

“No headway at all. Somebody got the shit beat out of them about three blocks over. Abernathy and Grimes caught the call. There was nothing for Steve and me to do but can it for tonight. We’ll go over Abernathy’s report tomorrow morning and try it again, tomorrow night.”

“How’s the person that got whacked?”

“Colorful, from what I heard. It was just like the others, baseball bat from what the lab thinks according to the size and shape of the bruises. Tonight it was a woman,” Hutch answered sadly.

“I’ll drive in to the station in the morning with you when you go. I need to fill out a leave of absence form,” Starsky said matter-of-factly holding his breath.

“Leave of absence, for what?” Hutch asked around a yawn.

“I talked to my mother tonight…”

“Yeah, it’s Friday. You always do.”

“Well, she put the house up for sale. She wants to move into one of those apartment complexes for Seniors. I told her before I got on regular duty and it became hard to get away, I’d come now and help her go through things to get ready to move.” Starsky hurried on in spite of feeling Hutch stiffen in his arms. “She’s got forty years of stuff in that house. I told her I’d help her… so I’ve… got a flight out Sunday night.”

“Sunday?” Hutch pulled out of Starsky’s embrace to sit up. “That’s not enough notice. Dobey will never let me get away, not in the middle of this case…”

“I know, that’s why I’m going alone. I never expected you to try and get off, too.”

“You’re going alone…” Hutch stared for a few seconds in silence, then shut his open mouth with an audible snap. “You sure you’re okay with that?”

“Going alone? Yeah, I’m a big boy, I’m not afraid to travel alone.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You mean am I okay with going and leaving you here working undercover gay bars with Steve?” Starsky asked, his voice taking the sharper edge it did every time he mentioned Steve Bussell.

Hutch nodded.

“That’s part of the reason I was willing to go.”

“Huh?” Hutch asked obviously confused.

“I think… I may…. have been a little hasty when I said…I forgave you.” Starsky held up one hand to abort Hutch’s interruption. “I’m not taking it back. I said I forgave you and I did, but I haven’t been able to forget it. Until I can, then …the forgiveness… is just words… not the emotion I need to put it behind me…behind us. I have to learn to trust you again, Hutch.”

Starsky risked a raise of his head to look over, searching his lover’s face for understanding, but seeing only hurt. “I trust you with my life as my cop-partner, but I need to trust you the same way as my life-partner.”

“And you don’t?” Hutch’s voice trembled just a little as he spoke.

“Not the way I used to… before Steve, but I want to.” Starsky couldn’t watch as Hutch’s face closed like a trap door. Starsky let his head fall back to the pillow and tightened his grip around Hutch’s wrist, trying to pull him back down to lie against him as before. “Don’t look like that, babe…”

“How do you want me to look?” Hutch asked, letting Starsky pull him down. Starsky could feel every fiber of Hutch’s body tensing like a bow-string. “I should smile and be happy when my lover tells me he doesn’t trust me any further than he could throw me? Tell me how that’s something to celebrate?” Hutch wrenched out of Starsky’s grasp to sit up again, offering a stiff back but no further conversation.

“That’s why I’m going alone. To get that back…”

Hutch let out a long breath and his head fell forward, shaking from side to side slowly. “How the hell is it going to help? Answer me that…” Hutch turned to look over his shoulder, his face still a mask of ice.

“How can I learn to trust you again if I’ve got you in my pocket, huh? If we’re never out from under each other’s watchful eye? If I’m here with you there isn’t any risk in that. If I’m three thousand miles away for a while, then when I come home…”

“Are you going to call while you’re gone?” Hutch interrupted.

“Sure, I’ll call.”

“And if you get no answer, then what?”

“Then I’ll call another time,” Starsky answered stubbornly.

“So when you come home how are you going to know I didn’t fuck Steve through the floor the first night you were gone?” Hutch’s voice dripped contempt and he raised his chin in arrogance.

“I’ll ask you,” Starsky answered honestly, meeting Hutch’s gaze, “and you’ll tell me the truth.”

Hutch deflated, “And you’ll believe me?”

“Yes. You never lied to me about it, Hutch. It wouldn’t do you any good. I’d know as soon as I set eyes on you.”

Hutch actually smiled briefly, “Yeah, I guess you would at that.” He sighed again and ran both hands over his face before lying back down next to Starsky, who willingly opened his arms to hold Hutch once more. “I don’t want you to go. Not because I’m afraid of what I’d do if you aren’t here to stop it, because I said it would never happen again. As God is my witness, I meant that I just hate to have you gone. I’ll miss you. But in some convoluted way of the-world-according-to-Starsky, I guess it makes sense.”

Starsky kissed the side of Hutch’s head and squeezed him harder. “I’m not doing this to punish you, Hutch. I have to know that you understand that.”

“Yeah, I do, I guess…” Hutch looked up from where his head rested on Starsky’s chest. “I love you, more than anything, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make us work. I’m sorry…”

Starsky stopped his words with a touch to Hutch’s lips. “You’ve said that.” About a million times. “You don’t need to apologize again. I’m doing what I feel like I’ve got to do. We’ll be better for it when I get back. Trust me on that, okay?”

“I do trust you,” Hutch answered sadly and so softly that Starsky almost didn’t hear.

“Go to sleep, babe.” Starsky kissed the blond hair once more but it was long minutes in spite of the lateness of the hour and the fatigue of both men before they finally slept.

 

Chapter 2

 A warm tickling breath ran across his neck and he struggled to wakefulness. He shivered In response. The breath was followed by lips that sucked and nipped across his jaw to suck hard behind his ear where the hair would cover the mark, mostly. The glorious torture continued down his neck to his chest with those lips fastening on first one nipple, then the other. Finally getting his sleep fogged brain to send a signal to his arms, he reached for the head attached to those lips and tangled his fingers in the disarray of soft blond silk. Pressing Hutch’s head against him, he urged more contact.

“Uhmmmm,” Starsky groaned. “Did I ever tell you how great you are to wake up to?” Hutch raised his head from where he was licking a path down Starsky’s chest to the erection rapidly filling below, long enough to let out a blinding smile followed by a lecherous wag of eyebrow before Hutch’s head ducked down to get back to business. The warm lips and wet tongue wiggled slowly down to meet Starsky’s bobbing cock and engulf it with enthusiasm.

Starsky arched up at the onslaught, fingers now with nothing to hold onto, grabbing at the sheet, clenching and unclenching as Hutch’s mouth and tongue proceeded to drive him crazy.

“Ohhh, God. I love the way you do that….” Starsky croaked out past gritted teeth as he tried to hold back the threatening storm of orgasm, wanting the exquisite torture to last as long as possible. Hutch wrapped his large hands around Starsky’s thighs and held him still, stopping the thrusting into Hutch’s mouth that was instinctual. Hutch deep throated him, swallowing once, the muscles of his throat milking against the sensitive head of Starsky’s cock and that was all it took. With a roar Starsky felt his body explode into Hutch’s willing mouth. The shudders shook Starsky’s whole body until he was spent and lay drawing in great gulps of air. Hutch’s mouth backed off his softening dick and with a final soft kiss at the tip, Hutch elbowed his way back to the top of the bed where Starsky rested, feeling like a smiling wet noodle.

Starsky flopped almost limp arms around Hutch as he approached, giving the blond a squeeze.

“Well, since you’re laying there all relaxed and loose, why not let me keep on showing you how much I love you?” Hutch’s hand traced a slow path down Starsky’s belly again, over the spent cock to nuzzle behind his balls, reaching for his center and once finding it drawing soft circles with his finger.

Starsky leaned up to press a kiss against Hutch’s mouth, then used his weight to roll them both over. He stretched his length along Hutch’s body, using his mouth in much the same way as Hutch had when he awakened Starsky. Taking hold of Hutch’s wrists he drew his arms up over his head and pressed them into the pillow there. “It’s my turn, beautiful. Let me love you.” Starsky looked into ocean blue eyes that clouded with a sadness before closing. Hutch’s head nodded ever so slightly in ascent.

I know I haven’t let you take me in a couple of weeks. I know you’ve noticed, but I can’t Every time I try, my mind snaps to the images I’ve created of you and Steve together. Clearer in my head than if I’d ever seen them in real life. Believe me, baby. No one wants those ghosts laid to rest more than I do.

Starsky kissed and sucked his way down Hutch’s body, noticing that as he slipped lower in the bed Hutch was unaccustomedly quiet and still. When Starsky’s fingers carded through the soft mass of blond curls, they wrapped around a semisolid cock that was losing turgidity slowly even as he held it trying to stroke it back to hardness.

Starsky leaned up on his elbows and was about to take the semisolid dick in his mouth when Hutch’s hands pushed him gently away. “It’s okay. Never mind. It’s getting late, we better get moving. Dobey will be in a piss poor mood having to come in on a Saturday as it is after last night’s fiasco. And that’s even before you have to ask for a vacation.” Hutch gave Starsky a thin smile as he rolled away from Starsky’s grasp and got out of the bed to plod into the bathroom. Starsky barely registered the sounds of the shower running. Oh, Hutch…I’m sorry.

With a deep sigh Starsky got up also and laid out his clothes, giving his partner time to finish in the bathroom. When Hutch finally emerged, his towel tousled hair was standing up everywhere. Starsky went to him with a smile as he finger-combed Hutch’s hair to tame it. “I love you, you know that, don’t you?” Starsky asked softly, his hands drifting down to cup each side of Hutch’s damp face.

“Yeah, I know you do.” Hutch’s eyes lowered to fix at Starsky’s chest.

“You just need to give me a little time. That’s all I need, I swear.”

Hutch looked back up to meet his eyes. “Take all the time you need, babe. This isn’t your fault, it’s mine. I’m the one…”

Starsky’s fingers touched Hutch’s lips to silence the offered blame. “That’s a dead topic, we don’t need to exhume the body.  I just need to know, you know that nothing’s gonna happen to the love. That’s there as much as it’s always been. I just need to work through some of the other stuff…and I will. It’ll be okay when I get back. You’ll see.”

“Whatever it takes, as long as it takes,” Hutch’s answer was softly spoken but sincere, And the hope Starsky saw in his lover’s blue eyes poured over the crack in his heart he was so strongly willing to heal, soothing still another part of it. The action somehow made Starsky all the more certain he was doing the right thing.

“Make some coffee, will ya? I’ll be out in a second.”

“You better be, that’s about all the hot water I left you,” Hutch retorted with a chuckle as he walked toward the kitchen fastening his jeans.

The ride in to the station was filled with the normal teasing banter. Hutch nosed his car into a parking spot toward the rear of the parking garage and killed the engine. With a cursory glance around, Hutch lifted Starsky’s hand to his lips and slowly kissed each finger where their hands entwined. Starsky watched as Hutch’s lush lips met with each digit and wished they were anywhere but where they were so he could act on the warmth he felt hitting his groin. Suddenly Hutch’s eyes drifted sharply off Starsky’s face to the right, as if something else had caught his attention. Hutch’s hand squeezed briefly like a vice then jerked away as if burned.

“What?” Starsky asked, not moving, but wondering for a second if he should go for his weapon.

“Abernathy…he’s in the car next to us,” Hutch answered with a whisper, busying himself with the clipboard on the seat.

“I thought you looked around…” Starsky sputtered.

“I did! He must have been bent down looking for something under the seat. He just popped up, but he got an eye-full.”

Starsky opened the door and bounced free of the car. “Come on… let’s go. I’ve got a lunch date with a stewardess that’s only in town for a three hour lay-over. You may have to work like a dog, but I still get regular lunch breaks and today will be a little longer than usual…eat your heart out”

Hutch groaned and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay, rub it in. I hope you get loaned to Traffic all day, then maybe I can take your place. What are friends for?”

Starsky gave Hutch a playful punch in the shoulder as he stepped up to meet Starsky at the rear of the car. We used to talk like this all the time, he remembered. It was meaninglessly hollow then, superficial. It makes me feel sick to have to do it now. I hate living a lie. He glanced at Hutch, knowing his own smile was as artificial as the one he saw on his lover’s lips. They stepped into the elevator, grateful that no one else took the ride upstairs with them.

“We’ve got to be more careful,” Hutch said as both men slumped against the back wall.

“No shit!” Starsky let his breath out in a frustrated huff. “Think he bought the save?”

“I don’t know… maybe… hell! Starsky, right now I don’t give a shit. If shouting  I love you from the roof of this place will help what’s wrong between us, I’ll do it. I don’t care about what anybody else thinks.”

“Hutch, the only thing that will help is the unemployment rolls, but I appreciate the gesture. Come on, Blintz, let’s forget it. It isn’t a problem until we hear that it is, okay?”

“Yeah,” Hutch said, but the agreeing word was strongly contradicted by the hung head and slumped shoulders. “When’s your flight out?”

“Four-thirty.”

“I’ll take you to the airport. I’ll still have time to get home and change before the stake out. That way you won’t leave the car there and have to pay the parking.”

“Thanks, that was my plan, too.”

The elevator doors opened and the two men side-stepped a few night-shift officers who were obviously anxious to get home and sleep.

Starsky stopped long enough to pour two cups of coffee and, with a detour to Hutch’s desk, carefully sat one down before squaring his shoulders and walking to knock on Dobey’s door.

“Come in,” came the reply from the other side and with a backward glance toward Hutch, Starsky raised his hand with crossed fingers as he entered.

“Mornin’, Captain.  I…ah… need to ask a favor.” Starsky began, standing at the front of the desk twirling his coffee cup slowly between both hands.

“What is it?”

“I need to put in for some time off for a family leave.”

“What? Why, you’re not back to regular duty yet, what’s going on?”

“I need to go back to New York and help my mother.”

“She sick?”

“No sir, she’s moving. She’s not able to stay at the house anymore alone and wants to move into a smaller place. She needs someone to help her go through everything. It’s something I need to do to help her. She came out here…”

“Okay,” Dobey reached into his desk and pulled out a multi-page carbon form and scrawled his signature across the bottom. “Here, fill out the dates and put my copy in my box. You know what to do with the rest. How long are you thinking it will take?”

“I…” Starsky stopped, surprised that it had been so easy. “I’m not sure, a week maybe a little less.”

“Don’t screw up the review date you have coming up. You got that? Be sure you’re back here and ready to go before then.”

“Yes, sir. I never had any intention of this trip interfering with that. I’ll be back and I’ll be ready. I’ve already gotten most of the paper work done. I did the firing range Friday. I’ll hit PT and simulator when I get back and that’s all they’ll need to have. I’ve already gotten the green light from the doctors.”

“Okay, don’t eat too many pizzas while you’re home, and stay out of trouble, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Send in that partner of yours. I’m tired of seeing his case on the front page of the papers.”

Starsky grimaced, knowing Hutch was doing the best he could and not envying him the upcoming hot-seat at all. “Yes, sir.”

Starsky exited the office letting out a long breath of relief. “Your turn, sorry,” Starsky waved toward Dobey’s door.

Hutch rose slowly, glancing behind him as the squadroom door opened and Steve Bussell entered.

“Morning. Hey Starsky, how’s it going?”

“It’s going. Dobey wants to see Hutch. I’m sure you’re invited to the party, too.”

“Yeah, I’m sure I am. Maybe we could pretend I hadn’t got here yet?” Steve asked, putting on his most innocent expression.

“Like hell!” Hutch answered. “I’m not taking the shit all by myself. Come on,” Hutch tugged at the sleeve of Steve’s jacket, giving the younger man a push forward to propel him into the office first.

“I’ll call you when I get out. Pick out a place for lunch where I can stand up. I doubt I’ll have much ass to sit on after this meeting.”

Starsky smiled in sympathy and sat at the desk to fill out his leave request form and get the paperwork in process.

 

Chapter 3 

Hutch stood next to the driver’s side door of his car leaning against it as he watched the departing plane out of sight. The hollow feeling in his stomach rose like a fist to close over his heart. He took a deep breath trying to lessen the painful tightness in his chest. “Come back to me,” he whispered toward the silver glint that was now barely visible. With a sigh Hutch pushed off the metal and opened the door to drive home and get ready for the night.

He pulled in front of Venice Place and started to get out of the car, then hesitated, stretching over to get a small white bag out of the glove box and carry it upstairs with him. Once inside the apartment he tossed his keys on the coffee table and shrugged out of his jacket and holster before sitting heavily on the couch. The bag sat on the table in front of him and he stared at it for long seconds before reaching to pick it up and shake out the contents. Two gray velvet boxes fell into his palm.

He opened one, its contents bringing back the fist that had clenched his heart earlier. Resting in the box was one of Starsky’s Chinese coins. Hutch picked it up and turned it from the flat dark side that he’d been looking at to the other modified side. Nested on the other side of the coin was a shiny halo between the edge of the coin and the square center opening for the cord. Hutch smiled, remembering the confusion the jeweler had experienced when he described what he wanted. He’d finally resorted to drawing a diagram to show the man how he wanted the exact size of the ring milled out of that center coin for the band to rest there, and a clip added to the top of all three to hold the coins and the band tightly together. The winking brightness of the gold was picked up by the dim light in the apartment. Running his thumbnail over the clip, then giving the coins a slight shake, the shiny halo slipped free of the groove to fall into Hutch’s palm. There he fingered the gold band, smiling as he touched the smoothness of it before snapping it back into the niche of the coin.

Standing, he walked to the sleeping alcove and opened the top dresser drawer and began to fumble under the T-shirts where he’d hidden the cord with the other two coins on it. Unfastening the clasp he let one of the coins slide free before he strung on the altered coin and replaced the other. Holding the cord up to the light all three coins hung nested against each other like normal. If anyone were to look they wouldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Three coins on a cord resting high on Starsky’s throat. But if…no when you come home, I’ll give them to you, Hutch thought. “No one will know what you’re wearing but us. I can’t shout it from the rooftops but I can do this, babe,” Hutch spoke to the necklace as he placed it out straight on the top of the dresser next to a bottle of Starsky’s cologne. He felt his face break into a smile as he envisioned Starsky coming home to find his lost necklace waiting for him. “I wonder how long it will take you to find the ring?” Hutch walked back to the couch to pick up the other gray box. Opening it he picked up an identical gold band and slipped it on his finger. Looking at the glint On his hand he marveled at how normal it felt to wear a ring there again. “Mine needs to be visible all the time. I know you’ll deny it, but you need to see it there and to know everyone else does too. And I need to do this for you.”

Hutch stretched, then scooped up the bag and empty boxes, tossing them in the trash as he poured a glass of milk and headed for the shower to get ready for work.

Humming to himself as he dressed he saw the light catch on his ring and smiled. It felt good to see and feel it there, like a part of Starsky wasn’t gone and part of him had made the trip to New York after all.

For the first time since he’d made such a dumb and desperately regretted mistake, he began to feel hopeful. Maybe you’re right, babe. We will get through this…

With a final glance at his skin tight white jeans and the light blue tank top, Hutch reached down to fasten the ankle holster with the .45 in it to his leg. He stood and shook the pant leg down over the weapon already missing his .357 Magnum, but knowing anyone he danced with would feel that size gun immediately and his cover would be blown.

The honk of a car downstairs signaled it was showtime and Hutch turned off all but the Light over the stove and left his apartment.

Steve sat waiting, dressed all in black leather. “That’s new,” Hutch commented as he slid into the front seat.

“Yeah, got it this morning. Like it?” Steve asked, opening his leather jacket to show off a black fish-net shirt underneath.

“It should get somebody’s attention. Let’s hope it’s the dick we’re after and not two thirds of the other guys in the bar.”

“I’ll circulate, don’t worry. You look good, too. Those jeans must be painful.”

“I wore them in high school. They fit a lot better then,” Hutch grimaced as he adjusted himself.

“That’s a matter of opinion,” Steve said with a grin and a wink as he pulled out into traffic.

“You’re enjoying yourself waaaay too much on this case,” Hutch teased. “Where are we tonight and who’s the back up?” Hutch asked.

“We’re at The Velvet Turtle, and back up is Gomez and Harrington.”

“Abernathy’s off?” Hutch asked feeling a wave of unease, remembering earlier that day in the garage.

“Must be. That’s the assignment I got when I logged us in before leaving home. Why?”

“No reason, I just saw him earlier today and just assumed he and Grimes would be working it tonight.”

“Maybe they’re at one of the other places. I’m just as glad they aren’t with us. I keep waiting for Abernathy to deck the first person who approaches him and start a brawl. He’s so stiff, if he fell off the barstool he’d shatter,” Steve said.

“I agree, but I was hoping to do some damage control.”

“Why, what happened?” Steve asked, concerned.

“I thought all the cars in the parking garage close by were empty. He was parked next door and I didn’t see him. He must have been fishing for something under the seat. Anyway, Starsky and I gave him an eye-full.”

“Oh shit, you’re kidding!”

“Nope.”

“And you’ve been ragging on me for being indiscreet with my fella?”

“A lip-lock in a restaurant parking lot is more than indiscreet.”

“Did he say anything?”

“No, we played it up when we got out of the car about Starsky having a hot lunch date with a Stewardess. Maybe he bought it.”

Steve rolled his eyes with a groan. “One can only hope.”

They rode the rest of the way down Sunset to The Velvet Turtle in silence. When they were about a block away Hutch turned on the walkie-talkie. “This is Peacock calling Flamingo. We’re checking in, how do you read?”

“You’re coming in great guys. Everything set?” Came the tinny reply over the hand-held two-way radio.

“Almost. If we get any takers I’ll leave the bar, radio for you guys and circle around the back to head in. You guys come through the front entrance of the bar so we have all the exits covered.”

“Got it. You’re John Wayne and we’re the cavalry. Good luck!”

“Peacock out,” Hutch turned to Steve. “Who picked these crazy names, you?”

“Me? No, actually it was Starsky that suggested it. I thought he told you,” Steve finished with a twinkle in his eye that made Hutch wonder if he was being had.

Steve parked the car and put a fresh stick of gum in his mouth, using the paper to wrap up the old one. He offered a stick to Hutch who took it with a nod of thanks.

“Want to grab breakfast when we’re done if there’s no takers?” Steve asked without looking over from the driver’s side.

“I don’t think so, thanks. I’ve got leftovers at the house I need to eat or throw away. I’d Like to eat there and call New York before I go to bed. It’ll be 7 a.m. by then there. Starsky will hate it, but his Mom’s an early riser. They’ll be up.”

“I wasn’t making a pass, Ken. I’m not going to try and push anything while Dave’s gone.”

“I know…” It wouldn’t do you any good to try it anyway. I fucked things up once, literally. I won’t let it happen again.

“Okay, let’s go see if this peacock can attract some suitors,” Steve grinned and with a pat to his own ankle holster, he bounced out of the car.

The two men walked into the bar and waited as their eyes became accustomed to the smoky atmosphere and their ears adjusted to the driving disco music. The noise seemed to instantly energize Steve as it always did. He was a great dancer and that got him plenty of attention right away. I wish he and Starsky could dance together, they’d bring the house down, Hutch thought with a smile and a slight stirring of his groin at the thought of how sexy his lover was when gyrating on the dance floor.

“What’s with the ring?” Steve leaned to yell into Hutch’s ear.

“What about it?”

“Don’t you think that’s a little dangerous?”

“I was married before; if anyone asks I’ll just say I was feeling sentimental,” Hutch answered over the din.

“And you think that will fly?”

“If anyone asks more than that, the answer will be: it’s none of your business.“ Hutch followed the words with an icy expression. “Think that will table the conversation?” Hutch asked.

“No, but that look should shut up almost anybody,” Steve answered with a laugh as he Grabbed Hutch’s arm and dragged him to the dance floor. “This will be the only dance you get With me tonight, buddy. Enjoy it. We are going to get this bastard tonight, I’ve got better things to do with my evenings.”

“Oh yeah, what?” Hutch asked.

“I met this dentist… he’s really hot and I’d like the chance to get to know him better. That’s a little hard to do being here every night.”

“You should invite him down, he could see you in action,” Hutch teased.

“I said I wanted to get to know him better, not scare him to death.” Steve danced away from Hutch to the bar to order a drink and Hutch laughed as he followed.

The night wore on with watered down drinks as a pre-arrangement with the bar tender/owner and loud music. Hutch leaned on his elbow seeing Steve on the dance floor again, this time dancing with two men at the same time. One of the young men was tall and muscularly built who moved with a cat-like grace similar to Steve himself. This was the third or fourth time he’d approached Steve. The other man was a short Hispanic with a drop-dead body in skin-tight clothes who moved like a classically trained dancer. He was new to the mix, not one that Hutch could remember seeing here before or in any of the other bars. Nodding to Steve that he was taking a break outside, Hutch easily caught the car keys as Steve tossed them his way and began to dance again. Hutch went quickly to the car. Reaching under the seat for the two-way radio he keyed the switch, “Flamingo, this is Peacock. Anybody run across a short Hispanic guy built like a dancer in any of the stake outs before tonight?” Hutch asked and waited for the answer.

“I saw a guy like that at the club I was working last week. Looked like a dancer from one of those shows in Vegas, right? He was there early on, then left. I sort of lost him, never did see if he left alone or with someone. It was a Friday and the place was packed,” Gomez answered.

“That was the Friday a woman was hit, wasn’t it?” Hutch asked feeling his pulse quicken.

“Yeah, they found her in the alley behind The Chardonnay Club. Nobody was working there that night at all. We got caught with our pants down,” Harrington answered. “You got someone like that there tonight?”

“Yeah, he’s all over Bussell. Maybe this is it and we’ll get lucky.”

“Maybe he likes Steve and somebody hopes he’ll get lucky,” Gomez joked.

“Very funny. Let me get back in there. You guys stay awake.”

“Right. Flamingo out. Who picked these dumb names anyway…” Hutch heard before the switch was released.

Hutch walked back into the club and joined Steve who was taking a break at the bar.

“That short guy who’s been acting interested. He’s been seen at a club before. The Friday night that woman was assaulted at The Chardonnay. Has he said anything to you?”

“Yeah, the normal come-on stuff, nothing that I can qualify as anything different He hasn’t suggested we go some place more private. The other guy wanted to slip to the back bathroom though, for a quickie,” Steve said as he sipped his drink. The mischievous twinkle made Hutch doubt he was serious.

Steve finished his drink and made his way back to the dance floor, stopping at a table to pull the Hispanic man out of the seat to dance with him to a slow and sensual rumba.

Hutch watched as Steve bent his head to hear what the other man was saying. Then taking a quick turn Steve took the shorter man tightly in his arms for a few beats and made eye contact with Hutch across the crowded dance floor. With an all-business nod, Steve signaled he’d just been tagged to leave the bar. Hutch nodded and looked at his watch. Almost closing time. Yep, the timing’s right. Hutch finished his drink, threw down some bills, and left the bar to go to the car and radio the back up to get ready.

Opening the car door he reached for the walkie-talkie and keyed the channel open. It was met with static. “Peacock to Flamingo, can you read me?” Hutch twisted the knob to turn up the gain and tried again. “Flamingo, come in, this is Peacock.” Again only static. Hutch jabbed the key into the ignition of Steve’s GTO and keyed open the regular police band. “Dispatch, this is Zebra Three, come in.”

“Go ahead Zebra Three, but aren’t you supposed to be using the short wave?” Came the dispatch reply.

“I’d love to if I got an answer on it. Try and raise those guys for me, will you? It’s going down and I need them to be the back up. Radio them on their regular channel and tell them to get ready. I’m going in. It’s Gomez and Harrington. Got it?”

“Got it, will do. Control out.”

Hutch keyed the walkie-talkie once more but still heard nothing but static and he threw the radio down in disgust. Reaching under the seat once more he pulled out his regular holster and the .357 that rested in it. He shrugged quickly out of his jacket to slip on the holster and snapped it in place before throwing his jacket back on. He jogged quietly down the alley toward the rear of the bar to where Steve would be leading the suspect.

The alleyway was dark and heavily littered with trash as Hutch moved quickly down it, Magnum drawn. It ended in a blind nook with a large dumpster against the far wall. Just as he reached the dumpster, he was struck on the side of the head. Something large and hard felled him to his knees. The gun fell out of his limp hand and slid away in the darkness. He shook his head to clear it and felt the warmth of blood running down his face and behind his ear. He saw only shadows in the dim light, but there were three of them, he guessed, as he rolled to the side to avoid any further blows. It seemed they allowed the roll but weren’t fooled by it. They stepped easily toward him, again encircling him on three sides. He eased his hand down toward his ankle to reach for his other gun but was never able to complete the gesture, a heavy booted foot kicking his hand away then slamming roughly down on his ankle. Gloved hands roughly pulled his pant leg up and snatched the holster and gun away. He shook his head to try and clear it, desperate to make his mouth work to try and stop the attack.

Someone opened a door down the alley and a small window of light clearly illuminated the three sets of boots, dark pant legs and gloved hands. Each man held a baseball bat. Hutch made a dive toward the legs in front of him and tried to scramble to his feet. He didn’t get far and was again sprawled face down in the filthy alley, having only moved the attack a few yards. They began raining blows down on him, powerfully struck, vicious things, that took his breath away. It was almost systematic, each man taking a tum to strike. He tried to protect his head with his arms, one particularly hard strike caught him on the forearm and he heard a loud crack and felt the pain shoot all the way to his shoulder. His hand hung fairly limp and useless after that He rolled and tried to kick out with his feet, making a connection at intervals but in no way doing enough damage to get himself free. Several strikes had caught him in the same area of the left side and breathing was becoming more and more difficult. His mouth filled with the salty metallic taste of blood. He caught hold of the baton the next strike and used it to pull the man wielding it to him. Holding tightly to the squirming man, Hutch tried to use the body to deflect the blows the other two were pelting him with. It brought a roar from the imprisoned man.

The voice sounded faintly familiar. “You’re hitting me, you stupid sonofabitch!”

Hands grabbed Hutch and dragged him to his feet, the movement making him lose his Grip on his attacker. He stood bent over nursing his broken arm and his battered side as he tried to gulp in enough air to stay conscious.

“I… I’m a c… cop. You don’t want to do this. You k… kill me and it’ll be a 1… lot worse f… for you.” Hutch stammered through swollen and bleeding lips.

A cold peel of laughter filled the alley. “We didn’t start beating up gays, but I wish we’d thought of it first. Someone else did us that favor. We’re just taking advantage of it You’ve been partnered a lot of years with a normal man. Then you get assigned with that fairy that’s in there and he changed you. It’s like a disease that spreads. Now you’re trying to change your partner. Well, we can’t stand by and let that happen. He’s gone now for a while; hopefully away from you he’ll start to think right again. But you, you aren’t going to be waiting for him when he gets back. The poison stops here. You’re dead and so is that fag inside. He’s getting the shit beat out of him right now by the guy who started all this. When he’s done, we’ll go over and make sure the job was done right.”

The familiar voice came closer and Hutch could smell stale cigarettes and booze. “Too bad, things must have gotten out of hand tonight. That guy must have brought re-enforcements. They took out both of you. One too many hits to the head, and that’s all she wrote. Two good cops die in the line of duty. Full burial honors and all that. As if you fags deserve it, but that’s a small price to pay to be rid of both of you for good.”

Hutch tried to raise his head to get a better look at his attackers but the light had long since gone with the shutting of the door down the alley and he was unable to see anything out of his red haze of pain but big black shadows. Those shadows came closer again with bats raised and Hutch charged, using his head as a battering ram into the stomach of the man nearest him. The others were too fast to be taken off guard for long enough to make an escape attempt successful, but Hutch felt he had to try. The blow struck him in the back. He fell, rolling over to try to avoid the next strike, but was kicked in the stomach and chest instead. His jacket provided little protection and as the blows and kicks continued, he became less and less aware to try and ward them off. The last blow to his hip sounded another loud crack and the strikes stopped.

“Shit, the bat broke…” one of the men exclaimed, sounding disappointed that he was out of the fun.

“Here, put it to good use then,” another voice said and Hutch felt himself turned over and rough hands were grabbing his belt and ripping down his jeans.

“Ram it in him,” one voice encouraged. “Then we’ll toss him over behind this dumpster and push it against that niche. They won’t find him ’til somebody smells the rot.”

Starsky, I’m so sorry…so sorry. Hutch tried to kick out but the jeans were too restrictive around his lower legs. He felt a rough hand grab him by the hair and jerk his head back.

“You like taking it up the ass, don’t you faggot? Well how’s this?”

Hutch felt the hands that grabbed and held his buttocks only a few seconds before he was hit with a blindingly hot pain that went inside him. His head was pulled back at such an acute angle he couldn’t even take in a deep enough breath to scream before everything went black.

 

Chapter 4

Harold Dobey hit the alarm clock again and wondered why it was so dark outside. The noise sounded again and he realized it wasn’t the clock at all but the phone by the bed. Fumbling for it he answered, “Dobey.”

“Sorry to wake you, sir, but this is the admitting clerk at Memorial Hospital. I need to notify you that one of your men is here. He was brought in by ambulance. About twenty minutes ago.”

“Who is it?” Dobey asked sitting up, totally awake now.

“Detective Steve Bussell. There’s an officer here that can give you the details.”

Dobey waited anxiously as he heard the phone handed off. The squawk of a hand-held radio registered faintly in the background.

“Captain Dobey, this is Officer Davol. Detective Bussell was assaulted outside a bar downtown while undercover. He got away from his attacker and crawled back into the bar and they called for an ambulance. I’ve spoken to dispatch and they have officers at the scene. A Detective Abernathy is the ranking officer I spoke with.”

“Thank you. I’ll be right there,” Dobey answered as he threw back the covers.

“Harold?” Edith asked quietly. “What is it?”

“Bussell was attacked tonight. He was on one of the gay bar stake outs. He’s been taken to Memorial. I don’t know where the rest of the team is. Hutch was with him. I’ve got to go. I’ll call you when I know more.”

Dobey dressed quickly, dashed to his car and backed out of the driveway heading downtown.

“Dispatch this is Zebra One, come in,” Dobey called.

“Go ahead Zebra One.”

“Patch me through to the stake out team on Sunset tonight.”

“I’ll try, sir. There have been some communications problems with their radios.”

“Use the main band, get me someone at the scene of that officer injury.”

“Yes, sir. I think I can raise Detective Gomez,” her voice answered.

In a matter of seconds Dobey’s radio sounded. “Zebra One, this is Flamingo, go ahead.”

“This is Captain Dobey. What the hell happened there tonight?”

“I’m not sure, sir. We got a heads up from Detective Hutchinson, then the radios started acting up. It was like something was turned on to interfere with the crystal. We tried fixing it and finally got it clear but then there wasn’t any response from Hutchinson when we tried to raise him on it. So we waited a little while so we wouldn’t blow anything, but then when we didn’t get any response on the main band either, we went in.”

Dobey pulled his car to a halt in front of The Velvet Turtle and looked around at the mass of flashing lights from the three black and white units and an ambulance.

“Where’s Gomez?” Dobey bellowed.

“Here, sir.” The detective left the van that had been the back up position and walked quickly to Dobey’s position.

“Where is Detective Hutchinson?” Dobey asked.

“I don’t know. When we talked to the bartender he said that Officer Bussell left with the Hispanic man described to us earlier by Detective Hutchinson. About the same time Detective Hutchinson left the bar by the front door. Bussell and the other man went out the back. When we didn’t hear anything after we cleared up the radio trouble, we went in though the front door of the bar like we’d been instructed to do. Officer Bussell had just crawled in the back door and was being assisted by one of the waiters. The ambulance had already been called.”

“Did you check out the alley?”

“Yes sir, and the lab guys are there now. There was no sign of Detective Hutchinson. Abernathy and Grimes did also.”

“What are Abernathy and Grimes doing here? This wasn’t their assignment,” Dobey asked.

“They heard the call for back up, I guess when the radios went whacko, and came from their stake out over to assist. But Officer Bussell was already injured by then. Abernathy and Grimes checked the rear of all the buildings in the alley and didn’t find Hutchinson either.” Gomez stopped to run a hand through his hair. “We’re spreading out to look further right now, but nothing so far.”

“How was Bussell?” Dobey asked

“When I saw them loading him in the ambulance, he was unconscious, sir, but alive.”

“I’m going to the hospital. I want to be called when you find Hutchinson, is that clear?”

“Yes, sir. ”

“Then when this scene is secure I want all your asses back at Parker Center and you wait for me there.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Dobey drove quickly through the streets to Memorial Hospital as the beginnings of dawn streaked the sky. Entering the emergency room he stopped at the desk and was directed to Neuro ICU on the second floor. When he stepped off the elevator, he followed the signs to the designated unit and pressed the call button on the wall. A green light lit up over the phone next to the call button and he raised the receiver. “I’m here to inquire about Detective Steve Bussell. I’m Captain Harold Dobey. Detective Bussell is under my command.”

“Just one moment, sir.”

Dobey paced at the door for several minutes before an older man in a lab coat pushed through the double doors and approached him.

“Captain Dobey, I’m Steve’s father. The neurologist is still with him. He hasn’t regained consciousness but so far the tests are encouraging. It looks like it’s just a severe concussion and that there is no active bleeding in the brain right now. There’s swelling and that’s what’s keeping him unconscious, but I am hopeful when that lessens he’ll wake up.”

Dobey looked at the circles under the man’s eyes and the tension in his face and as a father himself, he knew what he must be feeling. “I’m very sorry for the injury your son sustained. He’s a good officer and I’m proud to have him in my unit. As soon as he is awake, I want you to call me. There’s another officer missing. Steve’s the only lead we have,” Dobey offered softly.

“Ken’s missing?” Dr. Bussell asked

“Yes, he was working the case with Steve. There was a malfunction with the radios they were using to communicate with the back up stationed in a van down the street. So we really don’t know what went down. Only that Steve managed to crawl back into the bar to get help, but he never said anything about Hutchinson before he collapsed”

“I’ll be staying here until Steve wakes up. As soon as he’s able to answer questions I’ll call you.”

“Thank you, Dr. Bussell.” Dobey held out a beefy hand for a handshake.

“I’m sorry to hear about Ken,. He’s a nice guy and my son thought a lot of him. I really hope he’s okay. I know that will be Steve’s first concern, too.”

“I’ll be at the main office downtown. If I’m not there, dispatch can find me,” Dobey assured as he left the Neuro waiting area to return to the squadroom and hopefully some answers.

Driving across town he mulled over the information he had so far. It stunk to high heaven. Abernathy and his partner just happen to hear the radio transmission from more than 10 miles away when the van less than fifty yards away gets nothing but static? “Do they think I just fell off the truck?” Dobey grumbled

He opened the door to the squadroom with a lot more force than necessary and took great satisfaction in seeing every man in the room jump.

“Abernathy and Grimes in my office. Gomez, you and Harrington wait here,” Dobey roared as he opened the door to his office and stood to let the other two men pass.

Dobey sat in his chair tugging his tie down as he fixed the two men standing in front of him with his sternest glare. “You want to tell me how it was you happened to be at The Velvet Turtle tonight?”

“We heard the transmission when dispatch tried to raise Gomez. Hutchinson tried to get through, I guess, on the walkie talkie and it wasn’t working. He called in on Tact 2 and asked dispatch to call them and tell them to go in,” Abernathy answered.

“What was your assignment tonight?” Dobey challenged.

“To cruise along South Sunset between The Dixie Pixie and Antoine’s.”

“How far away from The Velvet Turtle is that?”

“About eight and a half miles.”

“I’ll ask you again, what were you doing at The Velvet Turtle?”

“It was almost closing time, Captain. There hadn’t been a nibble of activity all night so when we heard Dispatch trying to raise Gomez and Harrington we thought that was where the action was, so we headed over to try and help,” Grimes answered.

“The next time you take it upon yourself to re-arrange pre-set assignments be sure you pass it by the shift supervisor, you got that?” Dobey shouted. “I don’t have hot dogs in my department. Not now, not ever.”

“Yes, sir,” both men answered.

“Dismissed. Send in Gomez and Harrington, and file your full report. I want it in my box before you leave here.”

They turned and walked out of the office, leaving the door ajar. In less than a minute Gomez and Harrington slowly walked in, closing the door behind them.

“Sit down,” Dobey barked.

Dobey looked at first one man then the other, letting them squirm under his silent scrutiny. “Which one of you wants to tell me why there was such a massive equipment malfunction with radios that were supposedly used without a problem an hour earlier? This resulted in no back up for two men. One of those men is now missing and the other is in Neuro ICU still unconscious from having the shit beat out of him.”

“I don’t know, sir. I’ve been over that radio ten times since then and it’s worked perfectly every time. I have no explanation for why all we got was static when Hutch tried to call on it.” Gomez looked solidly at Dobey, anguish showing clearly on his face. “I just fucking don’t know.”

“We waited, thinking if we went in too soon, we’d blow the whole thing. This was the first nibble we’d had on this guy. We didn’t want to blow it. Damn it, how were we supposed to know it was all going down and happening so fast?” Harrington said miserably.

“How the hell many people did they have? We were expecting one guy, but to get the drop on Steve like that and take Hutch out, too? What was there, a platoon of them?” Gomez asked.

“We’ll wait for the lab to tell us whatever they can from the evidence in the alley. I want those radios turned in along with the tape from central dispatch from the hours of midnight to 4 a.m. Get on that right now. Tell them I said to make checking that out a priority. I want a copy of the dispatch tape and the radios in my hands within the hour,” Dobey said. “Dismissed.”

Gomez and Harrington stood as a unit and turned to leave. Harrington pulled open the door and made his exit first, leaving Gomez hesitating behind him.

“I’m really sorry, Captain,” Gomez said sincerely.

“So am I, Joe. So am I.” Dobey reached for the phone and punched in a number as Officer Gomez softly closed the door.

“I want an APB put out on Detective Kenneth Hutchinson. Call personnel and get the vital statistics from his file as far as height and weight and any identifying marks. I want every precinct in this city to be aware and on the look out. Then look up the family contact number for Hutchinson and his partner David Starsky. I need the number of Starsky’s mother in New York. Call me back with those numbers as soon as you have them, please.” Dobey slowly replaced the receiver and sat staring at the phone. “God, don’t let me have to make those phone calls,” he prayed aloud.

 

Chapter 5 

His head hurt like a sonofabitch. That was his all consuming thought. He didn’t try to push his pain fogged brain toward any other. He vaguely entertained the idea of opening his eyes to see where he was, but knew it was likely to make his head hurt worse and he decided quickly it wouldn’t be worth it. He could hear machines beeping and the soft buzz of multiple conversations around him but none close enough to hear clearly and nothing seemed to be directed at him anyway. He ignored it and drifted back into the gray and black shadows that made his head hurt less.

A touch on his forearm woke him, really woke him for the first time. His head still hurt but not like before and he took a deep breath, wincing as the motion hurt bruised or broken ribs. Shit, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. How embarrassing. That guy was such a little fucker. I should have been able to take him, he thought, as he steeled himself to open his eyes a crack and face the world. He blinked a few times, his eyes watering when the pain intensified just as he had expected. When he could focus as well as usual without his contacts in or glasses on, he recognized the blurry visage of his father’s concerned face as it leaned over him.

“Hey, boy. Welcome back!” his father greeted.

Another man in a white lab coat stood by the opposite side of his bed and leaned forward to look closely in his eyes with an opthalmoscope. The light hurt and the doctor’s breath smelled like he’d just finished eating strong garlic. Steve felt a rush of nausea and he raised a hand to push the doctor away.

“Everything looks good in there. Some isolated retinal hemorrhage but that should resolve. The increased intracranial pressure of before seems lessened. He’ll need to take it easy, of course, for several days.” The doctor turned to Dr. Bussell. “I’d say your son was very fortunate. It could have been so much worse. Call me if you need anything.” The two men shook hands across Steve’s bed and the neurologist left.

“Give me my glasses, please, Dad. Everything’s so blurry it’s making me feel sick.”

“Here, I doubt it will help a whole lot with the nausea, but it will tell us if you can see okay.” The older man eased the frames gingerly onto Steve’s battered face. “So how many fingers?” he asked holding up three in front of his son.

Steve focused on the fingers a second before answering, “Three. Where am I?”

“Neuro ICU. You came in unconscious. How the hell did that happen, Steve? After all the money I spent on Karate lessons…”

“Don’t say it! I was undercover, so I wasn’t supposed to come across like Bruce Lee. It was only after a couple of hits when I realized things weren’t going according to Hoyle that I hit back, but he’d already gotten in a couple of cracks to my head that took out my timing. Let’s just say I wasn’t in my best form by then.” Steve ran his fingers tentatively over the swelling by his eye and then through his hair. The fingers caught and tangled in the dried blood there.

“I need a shower,” Steve remarked dryly.

“You’ve been unconscious for nine hours; let’s take it slow, okay?”

“Where’s Ken, is he okay?” Steve asked. He saw the expression on his father’s face harden. “What is it?” Steve asked. “Tell me,” he demanded.

“He’s missing. He placed a call to send in the back up, then they had some sort of radio trouble, Captain Dobey said, and they lost contact all together. Ken wasn’t at the bar and hasn’t been seen since.”

Steve stared at his father, his brain struggling to make sense of the words he was hearing. “What do you mean he wasn’t at the bar, of course he was…” Steve fumbled with the controls at the side of his bed to raise the head and sit up straighter.

“He was in the alley on the far right side of the building,” Steve continued. “He was going to come around from the back to where I was with that short fucker on the opposite side of the alley. The back up was supposed to plow straight through the front door of the bar and go to the back. What the hell happened?” Steve’s voice was rising in fear and frustration.

“Easy, son I know that was the plan, Captain Dobey told me. The back up was late. You’d already crawled into the bar before they ever got there. They never did see Ken, inside or outside of the building.”

“That’s insane! It doesn’t make any sense. This guy doesn’t take hostages, and besides he was limping pretty badly as he was leaving anyway. I need to talk to Dobey, give him a full description. I need to get out of here. Get down to the station and get an artist working on a composite, then we can be checking the other emergency rooms and clinics for this guy.” Steve straggled to sit up straighter before he felt a restraining hand on his chest.

“You aren’t going anywhere right now. Let me talk to Dr. Andrias and see when he feels You can downgrade to a regular room. Then you can talk to your Captain and give him whatever details you need to. It’s going to be a day or two before you’re ready to be discharged. But just cool your heels right where they are for now. You were lucky, Steven, and I thank God for that. You’re not going to do anything stupid now and aggravate your injuries.”

“Dad, I’m not 13 anymore and this isn’t a question of keeping my grades up or you’ll put me on restriction. I’m a police officer and my partner is missing.”

“I don’t give a damn how old you are, you’re still my son and you could have died or had permanent brain damage from last night. If I could put you on restriction, believe me I would But right now on the advice of your attending physician you are on bed rest!”

“Then I’ll fire my physician,” Steve retorted, his face taking on very similar lines of obstinance as the older man standing at his bedside.

“You can’t fire him because you didn’t hire him, I did.”

“I’ll sign out AMA!”

“Steven, don’t do this,” Dr. Bussell lowered his voice. “You’ve had a serious concussion. You’re on IV manitol for the swelling in that hard head of yours. It’s only just now subsided enough for you to be responsive and wake up.”

“What time is it? What day is it?” Steve felt a wave of nausea and the irritating twinkling lights in his line of vision returned.

“You’ve been unconscious since you arrived at the hospital; that’s when I got the call. It’s been over nine hours now. It’s a little after 2 p.m. on Monday.”

“I need to talk to Captain Dobey.” Steve heard his voice as if it were coming through a tunnel. The pressure in his head was so increased by his movement to sit up he felt like there was an anvil on the top of his head. “Will you call him for me, please? It’s really…” Steve’s voice faded away even as he tried to hold tightly to the thought driving it and the gray fog took him under again.

The next time he awakened, his father was still at his bedside and the room hadn’t changed, but the ambient lighting certainly had. He squeezed his eyes to focus on the hands of the large wall clock, but it was no use.

“Wh… what time is it?” His throat was dry and his voice sounded strange to his ears.

“It’s a little after eight in the evening,” his father answered, putting down the book he was reading and standing up to offer a sip of water.

“Is it still Monday?” Steve asked, not sure why that information was important but it seemed so.

“Yes, it’s still Monday. How do you feel?”

It’s Monday…Monday night… the fragments of his memory slowly snicked into place and he felt filled with panic. “Hutch! How is he? Where is he?”

Steve fumbled for his glasses where they sat on the over-bed table and put them on. Searching his father’s face he saw that guarded look he was so familiar with that meant bad news. “Tell me,” Steve demanded.

“Same as this morning, son. They haven’t found any trace of him at all.”

“Help me up.”

“Steve, what do you think you’re doing? You aren’t going anywhere.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Stephen…”

“I’m going to that bar and look around. I know there’s got to be something there to tell us what happened. You can go with me so you can see that I’m okay or you can get the fuck out of my way. Because either way, I’m going!” Steve flung back the bed clothes and slowly sat up.

“Where are my clothes?”

“They were all bloody and someone from the police lab took them to be examined as evidence. You don’t have anything here.”

“Then get me the sweats you keep in your locker… please,” he added sarcastically.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.” Dr. Bussell left with a frown and Steve leaned back against the pillows, the headache of earlier decidedly more pronounced from all the yelling. Steve reached for the water pitcher and poured some in a glass, glad that his father wasn’t there to see the shaking of his hands as he did so. After taking some water to relieve his dry mouth, he reached for the phone and dialed the Metro station.

“Captain Dobey, please. If he’s not there, patch me through to his house. This is Detective Steve Bussell.”

“Captain Dobey is in his office. One moment, please.”

“Dobey, here,” came the gruff reply when he’d been connected.

“Captain, this is Steve…”

“What the hell, they told me you were… how are you?”

“Sore, colorful and mad as hell. What’s up with those yo-yo’s that were supposed to be backing us up?”

“It’s being looked at. Do you have any idea where Hutchinson is?”

“No, he would have headed down the alley to come around to meet me. There was nothing in that alley to give you any idea about what the hell happened?” Steve asked.

“Blood on the ground that was the same blood type as Hutchinson’s, and some wood splinters, but they could have been from anything. Until the lab identifies them, we’ve got a big fat zero.” Dobey let out a loud sigh. “Frankly, I was hoping when you woke up you could shed some light on things.”

“I’m going to the alley and look around myself. If I find anything that got missed before I’ll call you.”

“Are you sure that’s okay with your doctor? I mean for you to leave and go walking around?”

“I’m taking my doctor with me,” Steve retorted with a short laugh as he hung up.

The senior Bussell entered the room. “I talked Clark into writing the order to downgrade you. Your room is now on the 3rd floor. We’ll take your things up there and you’ll eat a little, or at least drink something. If you can keep it down I’ll go with you back to that damned alley. Fair enough?”

“Thanks, Dad.” Steve eased off the bed, his father locking the wheelchair in place and carrying his IV. The world swam sickeningly with the motion but Steve swallowed hard and breathed through it, hoping his father didn’t notice if he were turning as green as he felt.

By the time he had the ride in the elevator and the rolling ride to the private room at the far end of the hall, the bed turned down and waiting for him looked damned good.  I’ll just lie down for a few minutes. He stretched out on it gratefully.

“I’ll go get some scrubs for you to wear. I’ll be right back.”

Steve closed his eyes, his mind going over the last minutes in the alley, but the images kept blurring and changing until he was no longer sure of what was real.

Starsky’s face was contorted in rage as he screamed in Steve’s face. “I left him with you. You were supposed to keep him safe! You couldn’t have him as a lover so you didn’t care if you did your job or not? What’s the matter with you? Where’s Hutch? Why did you let him get killed?”

The face blurred and changed and became the faces of his Mother and Father. His father cleaning his glasses with his tie, his mother sitting on the side of his bed as she had done when he was a child. “Stevie, I told you, if you can’t play nicely with your toys, your father and I will take them away from you. Detective Hutchinson will have to be put away now, you didn’t take good care of him at all.”

“No, no, I didn’t do anything…I stayed undercover until I couldn’t anymore. I was waiting, he never came, it wasn’t my fault. Something else happened, somebody else….” Steve jerked himself awake with a start, his heart pounding, his eyes stinging with unshed tears.

Steve looked around the room in confusion for a second before feeling awake and oriented. He looked at the over-bed table and the food tray that rested there. The thought of food turned his stomach. He sat up and lifted the cover, remembering the deal with his father and forced down a little of the Jell-O and soup. He took the juice to the bathroom with him and after a few sips he poured the rest down the toilet as he relieved himself and flushed it away. Making his way slowly back to the bed he looked at the tray in speculation. “That should be enough to pacify the old man. Much as I hate to admit it, I don’t think I could make it downtown on my own. What the hell went wrong? Hutchinson, where are you?”

Good to his word, Dr. Bussell opened the door and entered carrying clothes. “Here, these will fit you better than my sweats; besides if you wear them, I’ll never get them back.” He laid the scrubs on the bed “How did your dinner do?”

“Okay for hospital fare. Did you bring a toothbrush?”

“There’s one in the admission kit sitting in the bathroom.”

“Good, give me five minutes and I’ll be ready to go,” Steve replied as he headed toward the bathroom with the clothes.

***

The cool night air felt good as it blew in Steve’s window, but the bumping of the car on the road did nothing to help his head.

“What do you hope to find that the others didn’t, son?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t have anywhere else to start.”

Steve directed them to The Velvet Turtle and they parked the car at the side of the Opening to the alley closest to the corner where Hutch would have been. Instructing his father to tum the car lights on high, Steve looked around at the fragments of the yellow tape that had cordoned off the alley for the lab people, which now lay in tatters on the ground. The areas of blood were still dark and visible stains in the dirty alley. Encased in white chalk, as they were, made them stand out all the more. He had heard a scream that night, he knew he had. At first when he’d been crawling toward the back door of the bar, he thought it was his attacker as he had limped away, but he realized now it would have had to come from here. This side of the building, the sound had been so faint and far away. Steve walked further down the alley, the flashlight he held making shaky glowing arches in the dirt and debris as he walked. Staggering slightly, he moved closer to the wall letting his hands rest against the warm bricks at intervals to steady himself. His steps made noise as they struck against paper and cans and the odd empty booze bottle as he walked.

“Steve, there isn’t anything to see here. No one found anything in broad daylight, and we’re wasting our time here in the dark. It’s after eleven. Let’s get you back to the hospital and I’ll come get you and we’ll look again in the morning. Maybe in the daylight….”

“There’s something wrong… I just can’t think straight…” Steve rubbed his face in frustration, looking at the alley’s dead end and confused by it.

“The alley dead ends, it doesn’t go around to the other side,” Dr. Bussell offered bluntly As he sidestepped a small puddle filled with stagnant water. “Now, let’s go…”

“No! You’re wrong, it does. Now I remember, we walked it out the day before. Do you Think we’d set up a sting like this and not know the physical layout of the place? It went all the way around, we walked it.” Steve stood at the edge of the huge dumpster craning his neck to see past it. “This wasn’t here…that’s what’s different. There was a dumpster here, but it was smaller, you could walk past it easily. This isn’t the one that was here.” Steve looked at the wheels, kicking at them with his feet and trying to move the huge metal box.

“Help me, it’s locked down, move it just enough for me to squeeze past it.”

“Steve, what was that?” Dr. Bussell asked, holding his hand up to silence his son.

“What?”

“Did you hear that?” Dr. Bussell kicked at the dirty rusted locks on the wheels until one came free and he could angle the box a few inches away from the wall. The movement of the box was followed by a scraping sound and a low moan. “There it is again. It’s coming from back here.”

Steve jumped up on the edge of the box, supporting himself on his hands so he could shine the light and look past the big box, not just in it as he knew the others had. “Oh my God,” he breathed, his arms going weak and unable to hold him anymore. He collapsed against the edge and slid off the box to the ground, the flashlight falling out of his hand.

“Oh my God… He’s behind it.” Steve struggled to his feet. “Help me, Dad.”

Both men worked at one edge to ease the dumpster a few more inches. It wasn’t much but it was enough for Steve to squeeze through to where Hutch lay pinned awkwardly between the heavy metal and the brick wall.

“Ken, can you hear me?” Steve asked, almost afraid to touch the pasty skin for fear of feeling it cold as death. “Dad, you need to get in here, he’s hurt bad. Help me out and I’ll call for an ambulance.” Steve shimmied back to his feet and extended a hand to have his father’s grip his and help to lever him out of the tight space.

Dr. Bussell squeezed into the same cramped space and with a quick look he hollered out to Steve as he hurried to the back door of one of the facing store fronts. “Bring back a blanket or table cloth… something to cover him with.”

Steve returned quickly, the forced activity causing his head to pound and his eyes to be filling with irritatingly distracting flashes of light. Tossing the blanket over the side of the dumpster, he asked, “How is he?”

“He’s alive. From the amount of blood back here he’s lost a hell of a lot. Broken arm, broken ribs that I  can see and feel without X-Ray. The internal damage is what worries me. I can’t examine that this way. Did you see what they did to him?” the older man’s voice trembled.

“I saw they’d taken his pants down and beat the shit out of him,” Steve answered, feeling his anger boil.

“He’s impaled,” Dr. Bussell answered.

“What?”

“The reason they took his pants down. There’s a broken baseball bat back here with him. Broken off just above the handgrip. The part that’s missing they…”

“Oh my God,” Steve’s knees crumbled and he slowly slid to the dirty ground. He rested his head against his knees and fought to control the wave of bile that rose in his throat. He could hear his father murmuring comforting words on the other side of the metal. He strained to hear if Hutch was conscious now and talking.

“Take it out…” He heard the faintest croak. “Please, take it out, it hurts so bad…” Hutch moaned.

“I can’t do it here. An ambulance is on the way. We’ll get you to a hospital and into surgery. We can’t take it out before then, or we’d get into bleeding that couldn’t be controlled. I’m sorry.”

“Please, take it out…” Hutch begged, as if he hadn’t heard the explanation of why it wasn’t possible, or was in too much pain to comprehend it.

Steve heard the sirens of help approaching in the distance and with all the effort he had, he pushed away from the dumpster to stand and walk to the end of the alley and wave the ambulance inside. Once they made the turn, he went to his father’s car and grabbed the car phone off the dash. “Operator, get me Metro Division Dispatch, please.” Steve rested his head back against the seat until he heard the ring that indicated the connection. “Dispatch, this is Zebra- Three. Patch me to Captain Dobey.”

“This is Dobey, what the hell are you doing out of the hospital?”

“I found Hutch. He’ll be going to Memorial. You better meet us there. It’s bad. Zebra Three out.” Steve backed out of the seat and walked unsteadily back down the alley. The ambulance crew was moving the dumpster a few more feet to be able to get to their patient. The movement caused Hutch’s body to list from where he’d been tightly pinned on his side to his back. Hutch opened his mouth to scream but made no sound. Freed from the shadow of the metal box, the EMS floodlights illuminated the small space and Steve could see more clearly the damage done. Hutch’s hair was matted with blood, his face swollen and bruised. His left arm was swollen, discolored, and misshapen halfway down the forearm. His shirt was bloody and ripped in places. The lower part of his body was naked, covered only by the thin table cloth his father had obtained, his pants pooled around his ankles. On the ground under Hutch’s legs was a large pool of clotted blood

“Keep him on his side,” Dr. Bussell ordered, reaching to pull Hutch back over. “Get a pillow to put between his legs and I need a splint for his arm. Bring the stretcher down here and let’s get him loaded. I’ll start the IV on the way. He needs to get to the OR as quick as we can get him there. I’m Dr. Bussell, a trauma surgeon at Memorial. We’ll go there. Radio ahead and tell them I want an OR open and ready for us. Have them call Dr. Vaughan to assist.”

Steve watched the flurry of activity as the three men prepared Hutch to be loaded on the stretcher. The movement of the lift itself brought another unholy moan and Hutch began dry heaving. Each retching movement ended with a sob of pain.

“I’ll ride with him. Are you okay to drive?”

Steve nodded his lie and accepted the keys from his father’s hand.

 

Chapter 6 

The wine slid down warm and sweet, adding to the buzz that had been building since Starsky and his brother, Nick, had come outside. Sitting on the stoop in the gathering darkness Brought back many childhood memories and he found himself enjoying the ‘remember-the-time’ conversation. Nicky’s girlfriend joined them after work and Starsky liked her immediately. A pretty, no-nonsense, level-headed Italian. Her influence had been good for Nick and it was obvious they were serious about each other. Her arrival heralded the opening of another bottle of homemade wine and it was quickly finished

“This is great wine…where did you say you got it?” Starsky asked, accepting the last inch of the dark sweet liquid that killed the second bottle.

“Gloria Syno… she lives two doors down. She makes it like her Mama used to and still shares it with Ma.” With a glance at his watch he looked pleadingly at his girlfriend. “It’s not too late, why don’t you go see if she’s home and wants to join us?” Nick gestured in Starsky’s direction with a wink. “Ask her to bring some more wine.”

Giving Nick a quick kiss his lady hurried away, returning in a matter of a few minutes with an attractive young woman, each lady carrying an unopened bottle of wine.

“Gloria, this is my older brother, Dave, from California. Dave, this is the prettiest girl on the block, next to my Stella,” Nick said, scooping his girlfriend to him with an arm around her waist.

Gloria smiled at Nick for the left-handed compliment and extended a bottle of wine to Starsky. “Stella said you really liked the wine. I brought some more.” Gloria reached into her jacket pocket and produced a corkscrew. With a shy smile she held it out also.

The bottle opened easily and glasses were re-filled all around, Nicky dashing into the house for a fourth paper cup.

That bottle and its companion were dispatched in no time. Nicky and his girlfriend headed for home after the last round, leaving Gloria and Starsky nursing the last of the wine in their glasses. Covering the second yawn in the past few minutes with a slender hand, Gloria stood. “It’s late and I have to work in the morning…this morning,” she corrected with a soft giggle.

“I’m still on California time, but it’s late even for me. Let me walk you home.” Starsky stood, wavering slightly as he helped Gloria to stand She staggered slightly as she stepped down off the stairs, and Starsky reached out to steady her. The gentle cool breeze blew her hair toward his face and he inhaled the smell of her perfume.

Starsky released her after a few steps down the sidewalk but she stumbled slightly over an area of the cement made uneven by years of growth from the tree roots and he extended his arm to steady her again. A few paces later Starsky himself tripped over the uneven pavement. “I guess we’re steadier together than either of us are alone,” Starsky said, laughing as they linked arms and continued.

“Ssshhhhhh,” Gloria cautioned, putting a finger to her lips.

Something about the gesture seemed particularly funny to Starsky and he laughed all the harder. By the time they reached Gloria’s house and staggered together up the steps and inside they were both laughing like only two tipsy people pretending not to be, can.

“I’d offer you a drink, but I think that was the last bottle of wine,” Gloria said then dissolved into laughter.

“Good… I don’t think either of us could handle any more,” Starsky said laughing along with her.

“You’re right,” Gloria answered, taking off her jacket and tossing it to a nearby chair. The motion disturbed her tenuous state of balance and Starsky reached out to steady her again. Gloria put her arms around his shoulders and leaned against him. She felt small and soft In his arms, her body felt warm. He looked down into her face… large liquid brown eyes with lids at half-mast met his, then they were closing… closing as was the distance between their lips as she tipped her chin slightly and their mouths met.

A warning bell bonged at a great distance and fleeting thoughts skittered somewhere across his alcohol haze, but didn’t stick. Her body felt good against him, bringing with her heat the memories of countless other small and soft bodies. Her tongue swept against his lower lip and he opened his mouth to meet it. Their kiss deepened as did the strength of Starsky’s arms around her. His head was swimming, he gentled his embrace, running his hands up and down the slender back, cataloguing the feel of light muscle and small bone. The feather-light touches of tiny cool hands danced against his face and neck while their lips remained just barely touching, her tongue ghosting across his lips…barely felt. Her hands were on his chest now, tickling their way lower until she reached her goal and expertly fondled him to hardness.

The wine coursed through his veins fanning the passion. He felt her mouth leave his and mourned the loss, but was quickly lost in the swimming of his head and the heat building in his groin. She was on her knees in front of him, his belt unfastened and zipper down. When did that happen? his mind asked with a drunken hiccup. Her fingers were reaching in to pull his erection free… full lips so close, opening and ready…The distant clanging of the warning bells in his head were becoming louder, clearer, until as a Klaxon now, they finally registered

“No…” his voice was hoarse with passion and indistinct from wine. He cleared his throat as he tilted his pelvis back and away from her. “No…” clearer and louder now. “I can’t… I’m with someone… I… I can’t.” The sweetness of the alcohol began to dissipate with the fast pounding of his heart. The message from his dick was unrelenting. Hard and weeping it was clear…that head’s thought was any mouth would do. He took a step back, fumbling himself into his tight jeans with a groan. “I need to go before we do something that will make things complicated. I’m sorry…it’s not you…that’s all… it’s just that…” You aren’t him. “It can’t be with you.” Starsky staggered slightly in opening the door and stepped outside. The night air was a dark cold mist now making the street lights look like a dry dandelion waiting for a child’s breath to blow it apart. The mental picture of that fragmentation struck him with sobering clarity. Hutch’s action had shattered his world and he had nearly done the same. He was still too toasted to analyze it clearly. As he stumbled up his mother’s stairs and wound his way through the darkened house to his old bedroom, a kaleidoscope of fragments filled his mind. Alcohol… a willing seducer… the images blurred from Gloria to Steve and back again. Time… opportunity and human nature. With a sigh that was half sob, he fell into bed

***

The smell of coffee drew him more awake than he wanted to be and he fought the pull. With a crack of one eye open he glanced at the bedside clock. Its red numerals emblazoned 07:36. With a groan he turned over against the light from the window and the clock. It doesn’t count.  It’s the middle of the night in California; Hutch’s probably just getting home. “That must be why I’m awake… used to waking up a little when he slides in,” Starsky mumbled as he shifted the covers a little higher over his shoulder to close out even more of the light. He was almost able to drift off when he realized the light wasn’t the only irritant to ignore, and he tried to pretend he didn’t feel the increasing discomfort coming from his full bladder.

With a disgusted sigh he threw back the covers and went out of his old bedroom to the bathroom at the end of the hall to relieve himself, shrugging into the shirt he’d hung on the doorknob when he’d removed it before flopping into bed. What the hell time was that? he asked himself, taking note now that his mouth tasted like the bottom of a birdcage. Feeling a big sense of relief after he peed, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the old mirror on the back of the bathroom door. His eyes were a little puffy from jet lag and too much of Gloria Syno’s mother’s homemade wine. He chuckled for a second at the memory of sitting on the front stoop with Nicky and his current squeeze and Gloria, the neighbor he remembered from down the street when he’d lived here, and the four of them drinking more than one bottle’s offering out of paper cups.

Starsky looked a little closer at his reflection, his hand coming up to straighten out the Collar of his shirt. There was make-up on it, and a little lip stick on the edge of his collar. For a second his mind went back to that old Connie Francis song and he was amazed at how clearly he could hear the old lyrics in his head. Then he sobered as he remembered the action that had gotten it there. Nicky and his date had driven away, leaving Starsky and Gloria and the last of the bottle of sweet red wine. When the last drop had been drunk, Gloria had stood to go to her own place and had swayed slightly. Starsky in reflex had reached out to steady her. His arm had gone around her waist and she had sagged against him. Her waist was small under his hand and her perfume filled his nostrils as the early morning breeze had blown her hair in his face. He had felt the softness of her breast against his side as he had held her until she was secure in her footing. He had walked her home, going inside the house with her. She looked at him, eyes at half-mast due to the wine and lateness of the hour. It had seemed like the most natural thing in the world to lean over, ever so slightly, and kiss her. He could clearly remember thinking that thought as he looked at her. It had all felt so natural at the time.

How can that be? He let his fingers drift across the stain on his shirt for a second, then shook his head, the beginning of a headache manifesting behind his eyes. I need to go back to sleep. He flushed, washed his hands and slipped silently out of the bathroom and back to bed. With a flop on the bed, still wearing the shirt, he closed his eyes but knew sleep wouldn’t be coming.

You almost did what you’re so mad at Hutch for, he thought accusingly. “Well, it isn’t like I did fuck her, or let her suck me off, even if I thought about it. A kiss isn’t the same thing. I mean he actually….” He stopped before he could finish verbalizing the sentence. With a sigh he sat up and dragged himself back to rest his head against the old high headboard. “Who am I kidding? It’s a matter of degrees? What the hell… it was a reflex that meant nothing. I’m home for the first time in forever, jet lagged and woozy from too much wine. It was just a… I mean, Hutch was home, he left the house and got drunk. It was a conscious act… he didn’t have to stay at Steve’s, he didn’t have to…What I did didn’t mean a thing… It…” Starsky closed his eyes, remembering Gloria on her knees in front of him, his penis searching eagerly, anticipating the feel of her mouth. That image gave way to the pained and stricken look on Hutch’s face as he’d confessed what had happened between he and Steve and had begged forgiveness. Hutch’s voice rang out with the same words; It didn’t mean a thing.

“Oh, Hutch. I know it didn’t. I can even understand that given the stress you were under for so long that you weren’t thinking clearly. And neither was I. I should have yelled and bitched and the two of us screamed until we hashed it all out right then. Instead, I didn’t have the energy. Hell, be honest, if I kept quiet, I knew you’d beat yourself up over it a lot more than anything I could say to you in anger at the time. So I let you do it. I kept quiet and played the martyr. So…you got a little wake up call, huh Davey boy? You aren’t perfect either.” With a smile and a greater sense of lightness in his world than he could remember in a long time he stretched, feeling the vertebrae crack satisfyingly. He shrugged out of the shirt and with a soft whistle of an old Connie Francis tune, he made up his bed before grabbing clean underwear and yesterday’s jeans and headed back to the bathroom for a shower.

He followed the smell of coffee and potato pancakes into the kitchen and, stepping up behind his mother’s back, he gave her a good morning kiss on the cheek. “Momin’ beautiful,” Starsky said as he reached above her head to snag a cup out of the cabinet.

“Good morning, yourself. I’m surprised you aren’t still sleeping.”

“When there are smells like this coming from the kitchen? How do you expect me to ignore them and sleep, huh?”

Starsky poured his coffee and reached for the phone while he watched in great anticipation as his mother piled his plate. He dialed Hutch’s number and waited for the rings to be answered. With a quick glance at the clock on the stove he did the math, registering that it was shortly before 6 a.m. “Come on, Hutch. Wake up and answer, babe.” The ringing continued and with a slightly disappointed sigh, Starsky heard the click that signaled the answering machine was picking up.

“Hey, babe. Sorry I missed you, I’ll call later when you’ve had a chance to sleep a little. I miss you. I’ll be home before you know it. We’ll be here at the house going through boxes and stuff. When you get this message, give me a ring. I love you, blondie. You can take that to the bank, got it?” Starsky hung up with a smile.

He began attacking the plate in front of him, but stopped eating when he saw the puzzled look on his mother’s face. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing… I just… that was Hutch’s number you called, yes?”

“Yes, he’s either not home from work yet, hopefully that’s because they got the guy and are buried in paperwork, or he’s already home and asleep, or in the shower and didn’t hear the phone. Why?”

“You were up so late last night, I thought… I mean…”

Starsky lowered his fork and wiped his mouth with the napkin. “Nicky and his girlfriend and Gloria and I were just talking on the stoop. I don’t know, it was like being a kid again. That’s all, Ma.”

“Gloria’s a pretty girl, and she’s single now since her husband was killed in Viet Nam… I just…”

“Ma, Gloria is a pretty girl but it doesn’t matter to me if she is single or not. I am not Interested. You know why, Ma. I explained it to you. Nothing has changed.”

“Why didn’t Hutch come with you?” she challenged.

“I told you why. He’s in the middle of a big case. There’s no way Dobey would give him the time off. I came because I’m not back at work with Hutch yet. Not until after the final review board meets.”

“Oh,” she turned back to the stove, removing the last of the pancakes from the griddle and turning it off. “I just thought that maybe since you were pretty much well now and things would be getting back to normal…”

“That I’d come to my senses and go back to wanting a woman instead of Hutch?” Starsky moved to push his plate away but his mother dropped the last two pancakes on it anyway. “I am pretty much well now, Ma. And as soon as I get the word from the department review and I’m back assigned to Hutch as his partner, things will be back to normal. As normal as I want them to be.”

She turned away from the table busying herself with the dishes without another word.

“I thought you were okay with this. What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing… I just thought with you outside so late… I guess I jumped to the wrong conclusion. I am okay with you loving who ever you love. As long as they love you back and you are happy. What else can a mother ask?”

“I love him, and he loves me and like any other relationship we’ll have our rocky spots.” And I’ll be bringing home a boulder for us to get over, Starsky thought grimly. “But we’ll work through them. I’m happy, Ma… more than I ever imagined. More than I ever knew. This time away now is good. Gives us both time to think about what’s important.”

Starsky went back to his plate. “I’ll start bringing down the boxes and you can go through them. Nick said he’d be by later today to help, too,” Starsky said around a mouthful. “We’ll get it knocked out in no time.”

***

The phone rang as Starsky was reaching for another of the boxes he’d brought down from the attic. He heard his mother speak briefly before she appeared in the kitchen doorway. “David, it’s for you.”

With a smile he got up from the floor to answer the phone in the kitchen. Balancing his coffee cup with one hand he took the phone from where it rested on the counter and snagged over a kitchen chair with his foot to sit by the sink, resting his feet upon the counter.

“Hello, about time you called I’ve gotten pretty sick of leaving messages on that stupid machine at the house,” Starsky spoke brightly into the phone, but there was only silence on the other end. “Hello, Hutch? You there?”

“Starsky,” Dobey’s voice was immediately recognizable and Starsky’s heart froze. He sat upright so abruptly bringing his feet down to the floor that the chair nearly toppled. “What happened?” Starsky’s voice cracked with the question.

“I think you’d better get back here…”

“What happened?” Starsky shouted. “Where’s Hutch?”

“He’s at Memorial Hospital. They finally got him stabilized enough to go to surgery. That’s where he is now. Things don’t look too good”

“What happened?” Starsky all but screamed again. “How?”

“He was on stake out and they got the break we were waiting for. It looks like Steve got tagged by the guy doing the assaulting at the gay bar and he left the bar with the suspect. That was the plan. Hutch went out the front to call for back up and was supposed to come around the rear of the bar to back Steve up until the other officers came in from the front. He never got there. Steve was alone and got banged up pretty good before he was able to defend himself and the perp ran away. Steve managed to crawl back into the bar to get help but passed out before he could say anything. He was unconscious for a number of hours and nobody knew where Hutch was.”

“You mean that crazy that’s been beating the shit out of gays had Hutch?” Starsky asked, disbelieving his ears.

“No, he was pinned behind a big dumpster in the farthest part of the back alley. I guess he was unconscious, too. Nobody could see him or hear him. He was hurt too badly to move or call for help.” Dobey’s voice broke. “It’s bad, Dave, it’s real bad.”

“What happened to the back up? They didn’t see anything either? Why the hell didn’t they get to Steve before he got beaten senseless? Nobody was there to back up Hutch? What the fuck are you telling me?”

“There was some trouble with the walkie talkies that fouled up contact with the back up team. They didn’t get the call for help. When they decided to go in anyway, it was too late. Steve was already injured and unconscious. By that time the waiter at the bar had called for an ambulance. There was no sign of Hutch at all.”

“What?”

“Listen to me, you’ll have all the time you want to point fingers on how it should have gone down. But right now my suggestion to you is that you get on the horn to the airlines and get back here,” Dobey shouted.

“I’m not trying to point fingers, I just need to understand…”

“Understand this, son. You need to get back here as soon as you can if you want to see your partner while he’s still…” Dobey faltered.

“Where’s Steve?”

“Right here. He’s still hospitalized himself but instead of staying in his room where he belongs…” Dobey’s voice softened a little “He’s here with me. It’s his father that took Hutch to the OR.”

“Give him the phone.”

“Bussell, come here. It’s Starsky,” Dobey called and Starsky waited impatiently for Steve to come on the line.

“Yeah,” Steve’s voice sounded funny, tired or sick, Starsky wasn’t sure which.

“I’m on my way, you make sure Hutch knows that, okay?” Starsky asked

“Yeah, I’ll tell him if I get the chance.”

“What do you mean if you get…”

“They don’t think he’ll make it off the table.” Steve voice sounded as if the admission took all his strength to say.

“What happened to him?”

“He had the shit beat out of him with baseball bats. Broke his arm and some ribs… he’s got some lacerations on his head. They beat him until one of the bats broke, then they…” Steve stopped and Starsky could hear his irregular breathing.

“What? Go on… tell me.”

“Then they fucked him with the broken piece of wood. He lay all night and the next day in that filthy alley trapped behind a dumpster. They threw him there to bleed to death. He was hurt too badly to move even if he could have pushed the dumpster away. With the broken ribs and internal bleeding he couldn’t even yell for help. They’re doing everything they can, but my Dad wasn’t very optimistic. Even if he gets off the table alive they don’t think he’ll be strong Enough to fight the massive infection. That’s a sure thing with a ruptured bowel. It’s had too many hours to take hold. Peritonitis. Get here, will ya? He needs you. It won’t be a nice, clean easy way to die, even if he survives the surgery.”

Peritonitis. The word frightened Starsky more than anything he’d heard so far. “I’m coming, you tell him to wait for me to get there. You hear?”

“I’ll tell him.”

“I’ll call and have you or Dobey paged when I know my flight arrival time. Call Huggy and ask him to pick me up.”

“Will do, just hurry, will ya’?”

“Yeah,” Starsky’s throat tightened with the helplessness he felt as he heard the defeat in Steve’s voice. “I’ll get there as quickly as I can.” Starsky pressed the dead phone tightly into his

other hand, wanting to scream or throw something.

“What is it, David?” Starsky’s mother’s quiet question brought him back to the present.

“It’s Hutch, Ma. I’ve got to go home. He’s hurt bad, and he needs me.”

“How badly?”

“The doctors said they didn’t know if he’d make it out of surgery. I… I… need to call the airlines…” Starsky stood and looked around, his fear almost incapacitating.

“You go pack your things, I’ll call for you.” His mother pried the phone out of his icy fingers and he ran to his old room to throw his things together.

 

Chapter 7

The time on the plane was spent alternating between fighting to keep his mind from thinking of anything at all and running to keep up with the thoughts that zipped around in his head at warp speed. He went over every crumb of information about the case that Hutch and Steve were working, kicking himself for every time he forced Hutch to change the subject. His own jealously at Hutch working with someone other than himself fueled that fire. What had happened shouldn’t have happened. None of the officers involved were novices. This sort of fuck-up doesn’t happen to seasoned guys. It stunk to high heaven and the more Starsky tried to analyze it the more he feared the direction the stench would lead. This is the work of a single perp. There is no way he would have been able to incapacitate Steve in the alley and, while he crawled back inside the bar for help, beat Hutch that badly and hide the body. Hiding it so successfully that no one heard or saw anything. A crime scene sweep in which Hutch was missed all together, he thought trying to grasp the impossibility. “It just doesn’t make sense,” he muttered as he looked at his watch yet again. An hour and a half, he thought. Hutch hang on, babe, I’m coming. Starsky closed his eyes and worked to stay calm as he, with his whole heart, willed that the plane would fly faster.

He found a phone booth and made the call for a ride to the hospital while he waited for his luggage to be unloaded. Unchanged, Dobey said. Starsky felt his stomach lurch with the thought. “Well at least you made it through the surgery. That’s a positive,” Starsky reasoned under his breath as he watched for his luggage to tumble off the conveyor belt.

Huggy’s caddy stuck out like a white boat amidst all the smaller cars and taxi’s in the passenger pick-up lane, and Starsky raised his arm to get the driver’s attention. Tossing his bag in the back seat, he slid in the front “How is he?” Starsky asked before his door was even closed.

“Everybody’s pretty grim-faced and tight-lipped,” Huggy replied. “Dobey’s camped out in the ICU waiting room. There’s a guard on the entrance to the floor by the elevator. Hutch is in the same room you were. Too much déjà vu for this brother,” Huggy said as he steered the big car around the airport traffic.

“How the hell did it get so fucked up?” Starsky asked, feeling the anger rising.

“I don’t know, man, but everybody is tight lipped about that, too. I agree with you that it stinks to high heaven and the direction of the smell is pretty obvious. I heard Dobey telling some one he’d talk to them back at the station, and that he was getting IA on this. I don’t know if he thinks it was just carelessness or deliberate.”

“Deliberate?” Starsky asked

“Yeah, maybe the back up was late on purpose, you dig? I guess Steve isn’t too discreet about his lifestyle as it were. Hutch made a comment to me just the other day that he wished Steve would be more careful.”

“You’re thinking that the back up was slacking so Steve would get slammed by this gay vigilante? But what about Hutch? That doesn’t fit It may be part of it, but the MO has always been the same. There has never been any indication that this wasn’t the work of a single assailant. If Steve’s getting slammed on one side of the back alley, Hutch would only be a few seconds behind. There had to be someone else waiting on that other side. And from how badly Hutch was hurt, it sounds like there was more than one.”

“So who? And how did they know Hutch was a cop and to wait in the back alley for him to go around?”

“Maybe they didn’t. Maybe it was a copycat and Hutch walked right into it.” Maybe it was a group of vigilante cops and communications didn’t fail at all. Starsky shuddered at the thought and fought to dispel it. Images of a dark viaduct and a similar extremist group played out in his mind’s eye. Would this really be that different?

Huggy pulled up in front of the hospital bringing the car to a stop. “I’ll swing by your place and drop off your luggage. Give me a call and let me know how things are going.”

“No, take them to Hutch’s, please. I want to make sure everything’s okay. I know he’s got notes about this case there, and I need to look them over. It just feels like there’s a big hole in this whole thing. I just need to find it and figure things out.”

“You got it” Huggy started to turn away as Starsky swung open the passenger door. “Starsky,” Huggy said stopping his exit. “When you see Hutch, hang on tight to yourself, brother. It’s as bad as it’s ever been.”

Starsky looked into the thin face of his friend and swallowed against the nausea brought on by that statement. He could smell the stench of his own fear. “Yeah, I’ll try. Thanks.” Starsky gave the door a shove closed and walked quickly into the hospital lobby. He went to the west bank elevators, all too familiar with the way to ICU. He forced his feet to move swiftly and with purpose through the corridors, only the tightly closed fists at his sides to betray the effort it took. I’m coming, buddy…but God, I hate the thought of seeing you like this. Maybe it won’t be as bad as everybody says, he thought hopefully.

He walked a little slower when he reached the open area of the waiting room. Dobey sat in a chair, his head resting in his hand. As Starsky came closer the big man turned and saw him. With a sweep of his hand over a tired looking face he slowly stood. Dobey met Starsky’s gaze straight on but couldn’t hold it long. With a shake of his head he looked down at his feet.

No?…No what? Am I too late? Starsky felt his heart pounding like it would break out Of his chest. He was hardly even aware of his own hand as it rubbed against the fierce pounding there.

“Where is he?”

“In 306, the same room you had.” Dobey turned to his right slightly and took a step or two. “Want me to come with you?”

Starsky hesitated, then answered, “No. I want to see him alone.” Starsky walked toward the room, digging his fingernails into his palms and cursing the trembling he felt in his legs as they took the steps. He turned back suddenly. “Wait for me, please?” he asked his Captain. Dobey nodded and returned to his chair.

Starsky’s hand shook as he pushed open the door to 306 and entered. Hutch lay on the bed, pale and still. Starsky’s eyes slowly traveled over every piece of equipment in the room, every wire, every tube. Moving as if in slow motion he walked forward, and still gazing at the equipment, he slowly sat in the empty chair at Hutch’s bedside. He wanted to reach out and grab the hand that lay exposed on top of the covers but he was terrified to reach for it. He heard the door to the room open but couldn’t tear his eyes away from Hutch to look over. An older man in a white lab coat stepped into his line of vision and with a quick glance up, he recognized him as Steve’s father.

“He’s being kept sedated and on the ventilator. It’s the best way to rest him right now. He’s got a lot to fight with the shock, blood loss and infection.”

Starsky looked up as the doctor spoke. “What are his chances?” Starsky asked the question that had burned in him since the phone call at his mother’s.

“I don’t give him any.” Dr. Bussell answered softly. “Frankly, I can’t believe he made it off the table. I was sure he wouldn’t.” Dr. Bussell took a step closer. “I repaired everything from the inside. The bleeding scan showed the perforation to be contained in the lower rectum… nothing higher. That was lucky. If I’d had to open him up to search the bowel for more damage…the longer anesthesia time, more blood loss…he’d never have survived it. The other superficial injuries are all repaired: the lacerations, broken arm and ribs are splinted. He’s got every antibiotic I can throw at him going. That’s all I can do. I don’t think it will be enough… but there isn’t anything else.” Dr. Bussell took a few steps closer to check the settings on the ventilator, then with a consoling pat to Starsky’s shoulder he put the chart back in the rack at the foot of Hutch’s bed and walked toward the door. “Stay as long as you want. I told the nurses. I saw you listed as next of kin. Sometime in the next few days we’ll need to talk.” Dr. Bussell’s hand reached for the door.

“What do you mean talk? Talk about what?” Starsky asked sharply.

“I think you should speak to any of Ken’s other family members. When the time comes to consider turning everything off… if he should go into a cardiac arrest at any time… why put him through a code to bring him back over and over when the ultimate outcome won’t be changed.”

“You’ve already given up on him,” Starsky rose and rushed at the older man. “I don’t want you on the case if you’ve already given up. He’s a fighter, he can beat this thing. He’s beaten stuff you don’t even know about. He’s not a quitter and neither am I. If you can’t be with us on this, I want another doctor.”

“Detective, it isn’t about giving up, it’s about facing the reality of the injuries. Complications from multiple units of donor blood. He’s had over twenty. That takes a toll… the infection…” Dr. Bussell sighed. “I’m not saying we should turn everything off now. He’s come further than I would have ever expected. I’m just trying to prepare you for the decisions that I think will be necessary to make down the road. If we never have to make them, son, believe me, no one will be more thrilled than I.” Dr. Bussell turned to look at Hutch. “This could be my wife and me making the call with Steve laying there. I know how you feel. I know how I would feel. Sit with him, talk to him.” Dr. Bussell reached for the door again. “Good luck,” he said softly as he left.

Starsky returned to his seat and eased into it. With determination he reached out and grasped Hutch’s hand. He was surprised to find the palm warmer than he expected it to be. “I know you probably heard all a that… and maybe it scared you. But don’t you worry, I won’t let anybody give up. I’m not giving up. Hutch, don’t you give up either, you hear me?” Starsky let his other hand come to rest on Hutch’s forearm, softly stroking the warm flesh there. He gently raised the hand he held and brought it to his lips. Trailing his fingers down the inside of Hutch’s arm he noticed how much cooler the skin was there. When he rested Hutch’s arm back down Starsky’s hand touched the bed. He recoiled at the coldness of the mattress, then realized the reason why. Infection…fever…peritonitis… He looked around at the myriad of machinery close to the bed and followed a green hose to a large machine nearby. The red dial on the front registered two sets of numbers. He looked closer and saw ‘patient temperature,’ the number reading 102.8.

“I know things have been tough the past months. I know it wasn’t easy for you, taking care of me and working… my mom coming. We both made some mistakes handling things… but we can fix it. I know we can. I love you. More than anything I know. You gotta hang on to that and fight. I know you can do it. These doctors … they don’t know how strong you really are. They got no idea what you’ve fought free of before. But I know… I know what you’re made of. I’m here, babe. I’m here. You’re not alone anymore. Don’t be scared. It’s gonna be all right” Starsky continued his litany until his throat was dry from talking. He didn’t know how long he’d been at it and didn’t care. It was all he could do right now and unlike Dr. Bussell, he had to believe it would be enough.

Two nurses came in. One went to Hutch’s IV and took down one of the small bags there, replacing it with another. They introduced themselves and explained they were going to turn Hutch and change his position on the bed. Starsky nodded his understanding and moved slightly to get out of the way. The women handled Hutch gently but efficiently, turning him from his back to his side and propping him there with pillows. Starsky got a glimpse of Hutch’s bare back as they rubbed an alcohol smelling gel over it. He saw the bat-shaped bruises on his ribs, and the distinctly shaped fingerprint bruising on Hutch’s hips and buttocks. There was bloody drainage on the pad between his legs and more swelling and bruises extending to his scrotum. Hutch’s top leg was raised to put a pillow between his knees, the movement causing a frown and almost soundless moan. One nurse checked the cooling machine and adjusted the dial. 104.1 flashed now, the red dial looking as angry as the emotion Starsky could feel boiling up inside himself. Once Hutch was positioned to their satisfaction the nurses left.

Starsky leaned close, stroking the damp hair back away from Hutch’s ear and whispered, “I’m going to go talk to Dobey for a while, babe. I got some questions about what happened. I’ll be back. You rest and just concentrate on healing, you hear me?” Starsky let his hand gently cup Hutch’s face, mindful of the bruises there as well, then quietly left the room.

Dobey was right where he had been when Starsky arrived, in spite of the cop stationed near the elevator being a different officer. Dobey looked up as he approached “How is he?”

“Lucky to still be alive from what the doc said,” Starsky answered. “I want to know what you know. What the hell happened?”

“IA’s investigating. Supposedly the walkie talkie’s failed and one team couldn’t communicate with the other. By the time they went in from the front Steve had been beaten and the perp walked clean away. There wasn’t a trace of Hutch at all. That was the report from everyone at the scene and even the crime lab investigator’s sweep didn’t pick up the fact that Hutch was behind the dumpster. It looked like it was flush against the wall. No one looked behind the damned thing. That part is the only part that doesn’t stink in all this. The radios failing at a crucial time when they’ve worked fine ever since… I don’t know what to think.”

“Sure you do,” replied Starsky, his voice a low and dangerous hiss. “The call for back up was deliberately ignored. Why?”

“Starsky, I’m not going to subscribe to that idea until I have some proof. I won’t hand up the careers of four officers…”

“Those four officers stood by and did nothing to come to the aid of two other fellow officers who were in a life-threatening situation. If this had been hookers that were getting killed, would it have been different?”

“Starsky!” Dobey’s voice cut him off. “You know me better than that. I do my job regardless of popular opinion or prejudice.”

“You weren’t at that bar or in the alley looking for Hutch. I want the names of the guys who were.”

“Let IA do their job. If there’s dirt to be uncovered, they’ll find it. Go sit with your partner. Call me if anything changes. I’ll be at home. I doubt I’ll be sleeping much tonight.” Dobey pushed his bulk up and out of the chair. The big man took a few steps, then turned and reached inside his suit coat pocket. He pulled out a large envelope folded in half. “They gave me this when I got here. It’s Hutch’s personal things. All his clothes and stuff were taken as evidence. His gun wasn’t found at the scene.” Starsky reached for the envelope, his fingers feeling the bulk of a wallet, the hard ridge of a comb, the badge folder and some coins. Starsky watched a few seconds as his boss lumbered away. Without opening the envelope he folded it just as it had been and placed it in his jacket pocket.

Starsky fought to control the rage simmering under the surface. When I find out who, the why won’t mean a thing. I’ll kill them. Starsky stood at the coffee machine waiting for his cup to fill. Just as he was removing it from the slot, he sensed an approaching motion from behind him. He spun around and saw Detective Abernathy approaching.

“I heard you were back east,” Abernathy said as he dropped some coins into the machine and pushed his own selection.

“I was. Dobey called me this morning to tell me what happened. I took the first plane back.”

“I saw Bussell leaving with his family a while ago. Looked like he was going to be okay. Walked out under his own power, anyway. How’s Hutchinson?” Abernathy asked, blowing into the steam rising from his cup.

Starsky shook his head and turned to look at the closed door of Hutch’s room some feet away. He took a sip of his own hot coffee, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stir. Following his instincts he lowered the cup and looked back at Abernathy. “Seems like a waste of manpower for this fucker to just walk right out of the alley under everybody’s nose. I don’t give a shit about Bussell. If he couldn’t take the guy on, one to one, he deserved what he got. But my partner didn’t. He may have been acting a little crazy lately but… he didn’t deserve this. I could have straightened him out once I was back to full duty. You know?” Starsky looked to Abernathy for understanding and saw the guarded look slowly falter.

“Yeah, once you got back where you belonged and Bussell got sent back to Westwood, or wherever the hell he needs to go. San Francisco maybe,” Abernathy said. “I hear he’d be real comfortable in that environment.”

“Yeah,” Starsky growled. “That’d be a good place for him, all right. The further the better, as long as it’s way the hell away from my partner.” Starsky crammed one hand into his jeans pocket, his fist driving his fingernails into his palm. “The way Hutch has been hurt. I don’t know if it’s gonna matter. Nobody that’s talked to me has been very optimistic about him making it at all…” Please God, don’t let what I’m saying become real. “He’s still unconscious. He may never wake up.”

“That’s too bad,” Abernathy said, the relief on his face belying the consoling words. “Let us know how he’s doing. If you need anything, yell, you hear?”

“Yeah, I will.” Starsky nodded and walked slowly back to go into Hutch’s room. His fingers itched to wrap around the phone there.

He fumbled in his wallet for a small address book and dialed a number. He could feel his heart beating against his chest, the echo sounding loud in his own ears.

“Hello.”

“Steve, this is Starsky. Who were the guys waiting for the signal out front?”

“Wh… ah… Gomez and Harrington. Why?” Steve’s voice sounded like he was struggling to wake up.

“What was Abernathy’s assignment and who was he with?”

“He was set up at another bar with Grimes and some guy from Vice. I don’t know his name. Why?”

“Don’t tell me you think there was really some radio fuck up. This was a set up. If you got nailed by this guy, they were all for it. They were just going to take it a step further and take Hutch out along with you and let the same guy take the rap for both. They know you’re gay. I don’t know how, and personally I don’t give a shit. So you’re out to your folks and you want to walk hand in hand down the street with some guy in front of God and everybody. That’s your business. But you selfish motherfucker you can’t do that in this city as a cop.“

“Who I’m intimate with isn’t any of the city’s damned business, or yours either.”

“It is, if that’s the reason my partner got beat half to death,” Starsky spoke through gritted teeth.

“Does Dobey know?” Steve asked, sounding a little less cocky.

“I don’t know. If he’s heard anything he didn’t let on to me. Hell, I didn’t know until Huggy mentioned that Hutch had been concerned.” If he tried to talk to you, why the hell didn’t you pay attention? You bastard!

“How’s Hutch?” Steve asked.

“The same. Listen, I’m going to stay with him here tonight. You come up here and relieve me in the morning. I don’t know who else is in Abernathy’s camp. I don’t want Hutch being guarded by the guys who tried to kill him. I made some noises to Abernathy today. I’ll make it louder tomorrow and see if I can’t get him to relax enough to give me something to take to Dobey and IA.”

“Be careful. If he’d be a party to killing one cop and setting up a second to have somebody beat their brains in, you’re not any higher on the food chain, my friend,” Steve warned.

“Yeah,” Starsky said. I feel like I’m a cowboy walking into a canyon, but I have no clue how many Indians are there waiting. “See you in the morning.” Starsky heard Steve’s grunt of goodbye before the line went dead. He slowly hung up and turned to look at his sleeping lover. Hutch’s skin was so pale, his hair, damp from the perspiration of the fever, was plastered against his scalp. God, this is like seeing you when you had that plague, only without all the paper and rubber gloves  that kept me from touching you. “Did you know how hard that was for me? Did I ever really talk to you about it?” Starsky spoke softly to Hutch as he stroked through his damp hair. “You touched me so often, even back then. I think I just took it for granted. I touched you, too. But then when you were in that isolation thing and I couldn’t… touching you with the gloves on, just wasn’t the same. I needed to feel you. skin to skin.” Starsky shook his head at the sad memory. “I’ll always need to touch you,” he whispered. The pillow had rusty flakes of dried blood that Starsky brushed away. Hutch’s hair hadn’t gotten washed out well after the lacerations were hastily repaired. Small potatoes compared to the other major injuries needing attention at the time of his admission, Starsky surmised

Starsky reached for the wet washcloth the nurses had left hanging on the side-rail and drew it tenderly over Hutch’s face.

“I’m here, babe. You’re safe. It’s all over. Nobody’s gonna hurt you any more.” Starsky hung the cloth back where it was handy and drew a chair up close to the bed. Gently cradling Hutch’s hand, he rested his cheek down on the bed where they joined. He squirmed around a bit trying to get comfortable before sitting up and shrugging out of his jacket. He gave it a toss to another nearby chair. The jacket landed too low and slid to the ground. The bulky envelop in the inside pocket slid out to the floor.

With a sigh Starsky scraped his chair back and picked up the jacket and the envelope. He hung the jacket over the back of the chair and looked at the writing on the envelope. Hutchinson, Kenneth. He opened the seal and looked in. “I may need some more change for the coffee machine, buddy. You don’t mind buying, do ya?” Starsky shook out the coins into his palm, surprised when a gold band came with them. He took a step toward the door, intending to notify the nurse that someone else’s belongings were mixed up with his partners when his eyes caught sight of the engraving on the inside of the band: “Me and Thee, Forever.“ Starsky felt his eyes sting and he blinked quickly to bring the engraving back into focus. “And you were ragging on Steve for not being careful?” Starsky whispered as he closed the envelope and folded it tightly and safely away in the jacket pocket. Going back to his chair by the bed he took Hutch’s left hand and slipped the ring on the third finger. He swallowed several times against the lump in his throat at the sight of the masculine band on his lover’s hand. Kissing the hand before he rested it back down on Hutch’s side, Starsky settled his head down on the bed, cradling Hutch’s fingers within his own.

He dozed off and on during the night, waking when Hutch moved or when the nurses came into change his position. At one point during the night as Hutch’s sedation was wearing off he became agitated. He tried to cry out, tossing his head and biting on the tube attaching him to the ventilator. He opened his eyes and they were wild and frightened. Starsky leaned close, trying to get his attention, trying to let him know he was safe, but Hutch was in his own nightmare and didn’t seem to be aware that Starsky was even there. Hutch kept mouthing words around the tube in spite of being told by the nurses and Starsky that the tube was there to help him and that he couldn’t talk around it right now. Starsky watched closely trying to understand what Hutch was so desperate to say. But most of it was a jumble that didn’t make any sense. One thing that Hutch did make clear was when he repeatedly begged: “Take it out, please…take it out.”

Starsky’s stomach twisted hearing the plea and watching his lover beg when there wasn’t anything he could do to alleviate his suffering. Once, Starsky thought he mouthed cops, but couldn’t get an answer to any question he asked Hutch to try and determine whether Hutch was saying it was cops that did this to him, or was asking someone to call them. The medication the nurses pushed into Hutch’s IV line eventually took effect and he drifted off again and was still. Starsky watched as Hutch’s eyes tracked for a short time behind closed lids, then stopped with a silent whimper just before his face went slack.

 

Chapter 8 

The last rounds of the night nurses woke Starsky and he stretched up from his pretzel position in the small chair. “I’m going to go home, grab a shower and get some clean clothes,” Starsky whispered through a yawn to Hutch. Steve’s going to come and sit with you. I’ve got some stuff to check out about what happened the other night. So you just rest, huh? Don’t give the nurses any trouble. I’ll be back.” With a swift glance out the room’s window, Starsky leaned in and kissed Hutch’s warm dry lips. “I love you, Blintz. Get better for me.” Starsky went to the small sink and splashed his face with water to fully wake up. The dietary cart had arrived and the smell of breakfast wafted in the air. His stomach growled in anticipation..

The nurses had just come in to do Hutch’s bath when Steve arrived. His face still showed some bruising and he looked tired. Every few minutes he reached up under his glasses to rub at his eyes, the left one in particular. It seemed to persistently water, Starsky observed.

“What are you going to be doing?” Steve asked, stepping with Starsky to the side of the room out of the way while Hutch’s bed was being changed.

“I’m going to talk to some people and see what the word on the street is. I want to go back to the bar and give it a look see. Then I’m going to have lunch with Abernathy. He and his friends hang out at Chichi’s at lunch and after work. I’ll see if I can catch him there.”

“Why would he not think that odd, for you to just drop by?” Steve challenged.

“It’s right around the corner from the mechanic I use. I think it’s time for the Torino to have a tune-up, don’t you?”

“Good, that’ll work. Be careful.” Steve frowned and removed his glasses to rub at his eyes.

Both men were surprised by a knock on the door and a man in scrubs and a lab coat entered. He was in his late thirties, tall and slender with thick black hair and piercing light blue eyes.

“I thought I might find you here. I called your house but there was no answer.”

Steve smiled at the man, obviously glad to see him. “This is Dave Starsky, he’s a detective with the Metro division. Dave, this is Dr. Wayne Myatt.”

Dr. Myatt extended his hand and Starsky shook it. The grip was warm and firm. “I’ve got a couple of cases this morning. I should be finished before noon and don’t have my first office appointment until two o’clock. Are you doing anything for lunch?” Myatt asked Steve.

“I am now,” came the quick reply. Steve’s face lit up with a bright teasing smile, then he flicked his eyes over to Hutch in the ICU bed. “But you know, I’ll need to hang here for a while until Dave gets back. Why don’t you make a run to that deli we like a couple of blocks away and bring something back. I know it won’t be the same as a dimly lighted restaurant and wine, but I’ll make it up to you later tonight,” Steve promised.

“Why do you need to stay here? There’s a guard posted outside by the elevator, isn’t there?”

“Yep, but he may not recognize the bad guy as easily as I would.”

“Certainly you don’t think that maniac will make some sort of attack here at the hospital, do you? His picture is plastered all over the newspapers and the TV channels. He’d be foolish…'”

“There may be more than one attacker, Dr. Myatt,” Starsky interrupted “We’re not taking any chances.”

“Oh… I see. Well, be careful, Steve. Don’t sit here and try to read or anything. Rest your eyes,” Myatt ordered with affection, then stepped closer to give Steve a quick hug. “I’ll see you when I’ve checked on the patients in post-op and find out what you want for lunch. Nice to have met you, Dave.” Dr. Myatt looked over at Hutch in the bed, then back to Starsky. “I’m sorry it isn’t under different circumstances. Ken joined us a few times for lunch or dinner. He seems like a nice guy, he spoke of you often.” Dr. Myatt looked at his watch. “I’ve got to run, they’ll be paging me. See you later,” Myatt said with a wink in Steve’s direction as he turned toward the door and left.

“What did he mean by rest your eyes? Starsky asked.

Steve looked both uneasy and defensive. “I’m having a little trouble since getting my head used for a soccer ball. Don’t worry about it. I’ve got my gun and I can still hit something at this close a range.”

“I wasn’t doubting that. I was just asking.”

“I…don’t say anything, because the medical report isn’t official yet. Hell, miracles can happen, right? I can hope.” Steve continued, “It looks like there was some retinal damage after all. Microscopic detachments that are scaring over and leaving blank spots in my vision. Remember those things in the cereal boxes when you were a kid? You made a pin hole in the cardboard and looked at a printed page and saw some code thing? Well, it’s a little like that, only I’m still looking for the code to make sense,” Steve replied somewhat bitterly

“I’m sorry…I…”

“Forget it Go on, get out of here. The sooner you find the other guys the better I’ll like it. If they hadn’t stopped Hutch, he’d have been where I needed him to be and we’d have caught that crazy fucker and I wouldn’t be watching the world through Swiss cheese. I want them as badly as you do.” Steve looked over at Hutch for a second before adding, “Well, almost as much.”

“I’ll be in touch. You stay here until I get back, even if Huggy or someone else drops by. You don’t leave this room, got it?”

“I got it. I’m here until you get back. If you’re going to be really late and fuck up my dinner plans, at least call, huh?” Steve said with a smirk.

With a tight nod, Starsky left the room. What the hell did Hutch like about your sense of humor? Starsky wondered as he walked quickly to his car.

Starsky spent the better part of the morning reading the reports that had been filed regarding the sting gone bad. He sat fuming in Dobey’s office. “These guys still have their badges?” Starsky asked. “If IA can’t see this for what it is, there isn’t any point to me busting my ass to get back on full duty.”

“Thinking it, as I do, they do, too, and proving it are two different things. It’s being worked on, believe me,” Dobey said.

“Yeah, well… I’ve got an idea of my own.”

“What’s that?” Dobey asked, with a sigh and roll of his eyes that clearly asked, ‘Do I really want to know’?

“Remember when Hutch and I did the sting to find out who were in the group of vigilante cops a while back? Oh, musta been 4-5 years now.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“I dropped a few well placed hints in Abernathy’s lap yesterday. I’m going to try and add to it today.”

“Starsky, you aren’t released to be back on unrestricted duty yet. Remember?” Dobey warned.

“That’s just a formality. I could pass the PT exam now, and you know it. Do you want me to run down there? I can shoot through the course today, if I have to. But don’t you think it will be smarter to let things go the way they are?” Starsky asked. “If I’m still out on light duty, who’s going to take my nosing around things too seriously.”

“So you want to nose around, as you put it, against a group of cops that almost killed two of their own colleagues. And you’re going to do it whether I say you can or not, I know that for damned sure. What are you going to do for back up?”

“Can’t use any,” Starsky answered. “Don’t you see?” Starsky hurried on as soon as he saw the expected stubborn lift to Dobey’s chin. “That’s the only thing that’s going to make me look believable!”

“I don’t like it,” Dobey said.

“I don’t either, but I’m going to do it with or without your blessing. Now, if you think for the sake of IA’s investigation you could be hurt by my plan, then we never had this conversation. If you order me not to pursue this, you can have my resignation and you know I’ll do it anyway.”

“Don’t give me ultimatums, Detective!” Dobey shouted.

“Ultimatums?” Starsky exploded in kind. “Did you read the medical report on your other Detective? Want me to elaborate on the cold clinical medically stated facts with what I saw Hutch going through last night?” Starsky took a breath to try and calm down. “Those guys are sadistic, sub-human bastards that don’t deserve to wear a badge. They’re not even as decent as the guys going around wearing white sheets and burning crosses.” He saw Dobey stiffen at the reference and knew he’d made his point. “I know where they hang out and I’m going to be there for lunch, waiting while Merle works on my car. I’ve done it before, it’s believable.” Starsky checked his watch, nodding to himself at the time. “Steve’s with Hutch, so there will be enough coverage around that Abernathy won’t try anything. At least not yet. He knows Hutch is still out of it. He doesn’t know if Hutch recognized any of them, but he’s feeling pretty safe as long as Hutch hasn’t talked to anybody. I want to convince him that Hutch is hurt so badly he may not survive. I’m going to make him continue to believe that he’s safe, and that there is no threat there. I think I can get him to make some sloppy remarks and I can let him believe I share his bigoted viewpoint so I get invited to join the inner circle. I want to know who else is in on this.”

“How can I help?” Dobey asked grudgingly.

“Slow IA down, if you can. If they put a lot of heat on, Abernathy will spook. Then he and his goons won’t take any chances. If they think it’s going to be ignored and blow over, they’ll get bolder and plan something else.”

“I don’t think Abernathy’s that stupid,” Dobey reasoned.

“I don’t think he’s stupid either. But I’ve seen sadistic men before… in Viet Nam. I saw unnecessarily brutal things. The more they did it, the more they liked doing it. Abernathy’s done stuff before, he’s got a file full of complaints, but he’s gotten away with it. He likes it, now, and he’ll do it again.” Starsky turned to go.

“Make sure he doesn’t do it to you,” Dobey’s voice cautioned as the door closed.

Starsky walked out to his car, his pace purpose-driven. Abernathy, you are going down along with every motherfucker crazy enough to follow you.

As he drove, he played over several possibilities for opening a plausible conversation with Abernathy. He found his eyes kept drifting to the passenger seat, so used to brain-storming this sort of thing with his partner. The empty seat seemed so very big and empty. Oh, Hutch…

He left his car with Merle, asking for a tune-up he knew it didn’t need, making up a story about it sounding rough when he ran it first thing in the morning. “Give it a look see and I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” Starsky said as he got his sunglasses off the dash and with a slight adjustment to the shoulder holster under his jacket, he walked the two blocks down and one over to Chichi’s.

Starsky sat at the bar and ordered a beer, then, keeping his glasses on, he scanned the reflection of the room in the mirror. He drank a few swallows then took the mug with him to the John, praying it would be empty and he could pour out most of it. He was in luck. He poured down to the last two fingers and went back to the bar and ordered another. He sipped at the first so when the refill was brought it sat in front of him untouched.

The door opened and he caught sight of three men coming in out of the mid-day brightness. Their eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the darkness, giving Starsky a chance to see them before he himself was seen and recognized. The bartender made a move to take away the first empty mug but Starsky’s hand stopped him. “Leave it.” Starsky reached for a menu and opened it, appearing engrossed in his lunch order as the three men walked past him to a booth in the rear.

He ordered and waited. When his food arrived he began to eat, sitting on the stool at such an angle as to be able to see part of the table where the three were sitting.

One of the men with Abernathy got up and went to the juke box. Putting in his quarter he took a great deal of time making his selection. All the while Starsky could feel the man’s eyes boring a hole in his back. Once his selection was made the man walked back to the table to whisper and nod to Abernathy and the other man seated there.

Yep, it’s me, asshole, Starsky thought. Now come on over here so we can talk. Starsky finished his beer and ordered another rather loudly. Yeah, that’s it…come on over. You know you want to…that’s right Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, that’s good, come on…five, four, three, two…

“Dave Starsky, is that you?” Abernathy asked with obviously artificial cheerfulness.

Starsky feigned surprise. “Hey, Bud, how you doin’?”

“What are you doing down here?” Abernathy asked, his false smile firmly in place, but his eyes piercing.

“My car’s in the shop. The only mechanic I trust her to is a couple of blocks from here.”

“That’s right, we’ve seen you and Hutch in here a time or two. Nothing expensive, I hope.”

“Nah, I don’t think so. I go back on full duty next week. I just thought I’d better get her ready to go, too.”

“That makes sense. Glad you’re back. It’s been a long haul. But now you’re coming back and your partner is laid up…who are they going to partner you with?” Abernathy asked

“I don’t care, as long as it isn’t that fag, Bussell,” Starsky all but snarled, draining his beer and motioning to the bartender for another.

“I doubt you’d draw that. He’s still out on the sick roster. They’ve got him marked MLOA the rest of this schedule.”

“Good. Maybe I’ll get paired with a normal guy until…” Starsky stopped and swallowed. “If Hutch makes it so…” Starsky shook his head and slammed his hand down on the bar top. “Damn it to hell, we’ve been friends since the Academy. He’s been my partner for eight years! He took care of me after I got shot. Helped me get healthy. I don’t know if I could have made it without him. Then he’s partnered with Bussell for a couple of months and everything changes. He starts getting all these weird ideas…” Starsky wiped both hands over his face. “Fuck, he’s probably not going to make it, so what difference does it make now anyway.”

“Hey, I know it’s tough. I lost a partner when I was with Vice. Come on, bring your beer over to our table. You don’t need to be sitting here drinking alone.” Abernathy threw an arm over Starsky’s shoulders and a wave of nausea at the proximity of the man almost brought up Starsky’s lunch.

Acting slightly more affected by his beer than he actually was, Starsky joined the group in the back booth. Detective Grimes, he knew as Abernathy’s partner, and they shook hands. “Tillman,” the other man, a Nordic-looking blond pretty boy introduced himself. “I work Vice. I got loaned out to these goons to help flush out the suspect at the gay bars.” I’ll just bet they loved you.

“I wish you’d been with Hutch. It might have gone down better,” Starsky lamented. He looked morosely into his beer, rubbing wet circles with it on the table top while casting a furtive glance through his lashes at the others. Abernathy let a smirk flash across his face as he glanced at his partner and Starsky clenched his teeth together so hard he heard his jaw crack.

“That was a real cluster-fuck, wasn’t it? And then for nobody to even find Hutchinson… for what… almost a day? I’m surprised he didn’t bleed to death,” Tillman said.

I can’t do this…I’m going to kill all three of these guys right here and claim insanity.

Abernathy shot Tillman a warning glance. “Yeah, I heard from one of the patrol boys on the scene when the ambulance responded that he was in real bad shape.” Abernathy turned to face Tillman. “Starsky here was Hutch’s original partner.”

“Why weren’t you working the case?” Tillman asked.

“Out on medical leave myself. I’m still on light duty until Monday. Then I’m back to full status. It’s been a while.”

“Starsky… Starsky! Oh yeah, I remember. You and your partner had a hit go down right in the Metro parking garage a while back. I didn’t make the connection at first. Sorry.” Tillman nodded with the memory and finished his beer.

“I guess you’ll be working with a new partner,” Grimes said. “Tillman here would be a good one. He’s been trying for a transfer out of Vice for a couple of months now.”

“I’d give my left nut to get out of that toilet. One more assignment in the gay district and I’m going to eat my gun or go back to teaching high school. Not sure which would be worse.” Starsky joined in with the laughter at the table, his stomach churning.

 

Chapter 9 

“I want to take over the case Hutch was working. I want to get that guy, so maybe since you’re  already involved, I could ask for you. I’ll mention it to Dobey, if you’re serious,” Starsky offered.

“Hey! That’d be great. Thanks!”

“They won’t be trying a sting with anybody planted undercover after all the publicity this last one got,” Abernathy sneered. “So you won’t have to worry about that I don’t think Tillman could spend one more night being groped by fags.”

“Hell, no!”

Abernathy looked at his watch. “I hate to leave good company, but we’ve got to get back to work. Take care, Dave, and don’t drink anymore before you go to pick up your car.”

Starsky raised up his mug. “I know, this is the last one. See ya.”

Starsky watched the three officers, nursing his beer until he was sure they were out of sight. He slipped out of the booth and went to use the pay phone near the bathrooms. Digging out a coin from his jeans and a slip of paper he dialed the number for the direct line into Memorial Hospital’s ICU.

“Surgical ICU, Maria speaking. May I help you?”

“This is Detective Dave Starsky. Can you transfer this call into room six, please? There is an officer guarding Detective Hutchinson there. I need to speak with him please.”

“One moment”

“Hey, lover, you forget the order already?” Steve’s voice answered.

“This is Starsky, how’s Hutch?”

“Oh, sorry. I thought you were someone else. He’s doing okay, I guess. There have been A shit load of doctors in and out of here all morning. Poking and prodding, you know how they are. They took out some of the stuff they had his ass packed with. If you’ve just eaten, I’ll spare you the details.”

“How’d he do with that?” Starsky asked, dreading the answer.

“Dad called ahead and had the nurse medicate him. It wasn’t too bad. They made some changes on the vent settings to start making him breathe on his own. If he doesn’t get too tired doing it, they’ll try to get the tube out later tonight.”

“How’s the fever?”

“He’s still on the ice blanket, but it seems to be holding. They haven’t added ice packs to his groin or arm pits like they did the first day. So I guess that’s good. It’s reading 101.6…no, I think that’s 101.3, sorry, a black hole got in the way. So… how are you doing?”

“It was an interesting lunch. I’ll fill you in when I get there. I’m going back to the station to pull a personnel file and check it out, then I’ll go grab a shower and some clean clothes and relieve you.”

“Sounds good, thanks. Huggy was here for a while. He just left.”

“Any other people try to visit?” Starsky asked.

“Someone who identified himself as being a detective from Metro. But the docs were in with him and whoever it was didn’t leave a name.”

“What time was that?”

“About 10:30.”

“Could have been Abernathy or a buddy. He’d still have had plenty of time to make it to Chichi’s by lunchtime.”

“Hell, Starsky, it could have been anybody. Nurse Ratchett is in charge today. She’s not big on visitors on a good day. She’s not going to encourage anyone else in here, believe me. She’s spitting nails that I’m here.” Steve chuckled. “But she can’t very well complain to Hutch’s doctor and get very far, can she?”

Starsky heard Steve’s voice say something but it was too muffled to comprehend.

“Listen, my Prince Charming has just arrived with lunch. I’ll see you when you get up here. ‘Bye.”

“Enjoy, ‘bye.” Starsky fought a wave of jealously driven anger as he hung up. You’re so open and so easy with it, and Hutch and I will never be free to be like that. “Maybe Hutch and I will never get the chance to ‘be’ in the closet or out of it.” He threw a tip down on the bar as he passed, going outside to walk the short distance back to Merle’s for his car. With every step he fought the increasingly oppressive state of depression he had been feeling since his return.

“Okay… what would Hutch tell you…” he mumbled. “Depression is anger turned inward, so what are you mad about?” Starsky thought for a second, breaking his reverie long enough to look as he crossed the street. “What am I pissed at? Steve for having a lover and being happy when he caused Hutch and me to have such awful fights? No… that’s not true. We’ve had worse fights over whose turn it was to buy lunch. Because it rocked our world… shook the trust I always counted on. I let it make Hutch less in my eyes and he knew it. I saw that he knew it every time he wanted to make love and I wouldn’t let him top me. Punishing him for being human… and that’s all it was. I know you never loved Steve, Hutch. You told me it was never about that and I knew it, too. But it was about having you all to myself and I couldn’t resist punishing you for taking that away. I was kidding myself it was about anything else more noble. Hell, I almost had a meaningless lay in New York. What a hypocrite! I hope I’ll get the chance to tell you about it. Not to hurt you, but to let you know I understand. I need to talk to you the way I should have when it happened. I don’t think now’s the time to get into anything heavy like that or what I did at home, but when you’re better, baby. We’ll have that talk.” Starsky rounded the comer and crossed to the other side of the street. “Maybe you’ll have that tube out and be able to be awake a little tonight. I hope you’ll be with it enough to know I’m there. I really need to tell you how much I love you. Oh God, I need you to know that, more than anything.” Starsky walked into Merle’s lot, his baby sitting on the side waiting for him, sparkling in the sun.

“She all set?” Starsky called to the legs sticking out from under the belly of a Thunderbird.

“Yep,” Merle called. “She’s as tight as she’s ever been. I don’t know what the hell you think you hear in the morning, but bring her in when you hear it and I’ll listen again then. Didn’t find a thing now. So get outta here and quit wasting my time.”

“Okay, I’ll get back to you if I hear it again. Thanks, pal.”

Starsky drove to Parker Center and spent the next few hours going over Grimes and Tillman’s records. He filled Dobey in on the conversation from lunch. The two of them came to a compromise to pair he and Tillman up to finish the current case in spite of there having been no new assaults in any gay bar in the city since the night of Hutch and Steve’s attack.

Starsky handed Dobey the note from the doctor that officially released him to full duty beginning Monday, but there wasn’t the joy he had anticipated in the action. He and Hutch had planned on making such a big deal out of it, and now… now, he was back in the same hospital, in the same room, praying that his partner and lover would survive against all odds as he had.

Starsky let himself into Hutch’s apartment, gathering the mail off the floor as he entered. He watered the plants and threw out anything that resembled a biology experiment in the refrigerator, then took a quick shower. Wrapping the towel around his waist he rummaged in the bottom drawer of Hutch’s dresser for the clean clothes he kept there. Looking for his hair pick he moved a paper back book on top of the dresser and was surprised to find his coin necklace there. He picked it up, the heft of it feeling odd in his hand. He took it out into the brighter light of the kitchen to look at it more closely. He fingered the coins feeling the rough edge of the clip at the top. Sliding it over he jiggled the coins until they separated and caught the glint of a brighter metal. He separated it from the older metal and his breath caught as what fell away against his finger was a ring that matched the one he’d found in Hutch’s belongings envelope. He glanced at the engraving, Me and Thee, Forever. He re-stacked the coins, nesting the ring inside the milled groove made for it and reset the clip. Putting it around his neck he snapped the clasp on the rawhide cord, adjusting it to rest at the base of his throat. He let his fingers feel the coins where they rested. “That’s exactly what it will be, babe. Me and Thee… if God will just give us, forever.” He finished dressing quickly and drove to the hospital.

He quietly opened the door to Hutch’s room and motioned Steve to join him in the far corner. “Anything new?”

“Not since we talked. He seems to be doing okay. The last time a respiratory therapist came in and drew blood, he seemed to think after the doctor got the results he’d order the tube out. The nurses are just waiting to do it, I think.” Steve looked over at the body in the bed. “He opened his eyes a while ago and got a little restless. I think he saw my ugly mug and was disappointed. He’ll probably be a lot happier the next time he’s awake and sees you here.”

“Has your Dad seen him this afternoon?” Starsky asked

“Yep, came by about five. He said Hutch was holding his own. They gave him some more blood this afternoon. Dad kinda frowned at Hutch’s urine output, because it’s been steadily dropping. I think that concerns him, but he didn’t say anything else.” Steve stretched the kinks out of his back and neck. “I’m out of here, unless you need something else.”

“No… I’m here for the night. Thanks for staying. Can you do it again tomorrow? Once Abernathy hears that Hutch is awake… nobody knows if he can identify the guys who did this or not. Abernathy’s got to be worried about that. I intend to tell him Hutch doesn’t know, whether he does or not, but Abernathy may want to verify that by dropping by.”

“Got ya. I’ll be here right after breakfast. That okay?”

“That’s great, thanks.” Starsky nodded and stepped close to the bed. He looked at Hutch, his eyes drinking in the sight of him, memorizing every feature. When Steve actually left, Starsky couldn’t have said. “I wish you’d open those baby blues for a minute so I could see them. So I’d know that you know I’m here.” Starsky pulled the chair closer and sat down. “I know you’re tired, babe. I know you hurt… but it’s going to get better. It will…”

His lover was still. With a small sigh of disappointment Starsky reached for the file of notes he’d brought with him to familiarize himself with the case Hutch and Steve had been working.

He hadn’t been reading long when some staff entered. The respiratory therapist Starsky recognized, the nurse he did not. With polite introductions she asked him to leave while they removed the endotracheal tube from Hutch, to free him from the ventilator support.

“It won’t bother me. I’ll stay, thanks. Do what you need to.” Starsky stood and moved his Chair against the wall out of the way and sat back down, his demeanor immovable.

It went off without a hitch and Starsky only closed his eyes once as the long tube was pulled from his lover’s mouth. Hutch coughed a few times, the cough punctuated with a groan and Starsky winced, remembering how badly it had hurt him to do that after surgery. Once they were satisfied everything was fine, the staff left the room and Starsky resumed his position closer to the bed.

He stroked the damp hair off Hutch’s forehead and began his softly toned stream of conversation. “I’d really like it if you’d wake up a little. I know they’ve been keeping you pretty snockered, but I gotta know some stuff, Hutch. It’s something only you can tell me. I’m gonna get the bastards that did this. I think I already know who. I met with them today at lunch. You don’t know how badly I wanted to kill them right there.”

Hutch’s eyes began to track under his closed lids and eventually sluggishly blinked their way open. Hutch struggled to focus and weakly reached a hand out toward Starsky. Starsky grasped it eagerly, his face all but cracking with the width of his smile.

Hutch frowned, looking confused. “You’re real?”

“In the flesh…”

“I thought I dreamed you were here…but it was Steve…”

“I was here yesterday and last night. Came directly from the airport. I asked Steve to stay with you today while I checked on some things. He wasn’t a dream either. I’m here now, for the night. I’ve gotten used to sleeping with you, blondie. It’s what I want, even if it means I got to do it sitting in this chair.”

Hutch pushed at the sheet covering him with his casted arm. “It’s hot in here,” he said.

“You’re running a fever. They’re giving you medicine for the infection, it’ll get better.”

Starsky eased his hand away long enough to wet a wash cloth and came back to smooth it over Hutch’s face and neck. “That feel better?”

Hutch nodded, his eyes closing again in relief. “They think I’m going to die,” Hutch whispered. “I heard them talking.”

Starsky’s hand froze for a second then continued. “They didn’t think you’d make it through the surgery. You were in pretty bad shape when they got you in here. But you fooled them all. You’re not gonna die, babe. I won’t let ya’.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d come back… in the alley, that’s the last thing I remember, not knowing that I’d ever see you again. That hurt worse than anything they did to me.”

Starsky’s throat caught as if there were a hand gripping it. “I’m sorry you thought that. There was never a question about me not coming back. This is my home…you’re my home. There isn’t any other place for me to be. There isn’t any other place I want to be.”

Hutch took in a breath and let it out with a groan. The more awake he became the more his face took on the drawn look of ever increasing pain. “Feel like you can answer a few questions? Then you need to let me call the nurse for you so you can get some medicine to make you comfortable and go back to sleep. Okay?”

Hutch nodded.

“How many were there?”

“Three.”

“Did you recognize them?”

“Ski masks and gloves.”

“What about the voices?”

“I’m not sure, I thought so, but I never placed it for sure. I was too busy ducking to give it a lot of my attention, you know?” Hutch tried to move to get comfortable but it obviously didn’t help and he moaned with the effort. “Oh God….”

“One more, then you’re done. Did you get a sense that they were cops?”

“They knew me… called me by name. They knew that you were gone. They know… Steve is gay and they blamed him for turning me and wanted to end it before I turned you. They called it a disease that was spreading and had to be stopped.” Hutch was breathing faster, his hand gripping harder in Starsky’s. “I’m thirsty…”

“They won’t let you drink anything, babe. I’ll wet your mouth for you. That’ll help.” Starsky wet the comer of the washcloth and rubbed it across Hutch’s dry and cracked lips. He squeezed a few drops into his mouth to moisten his tongue. “Better? Not much, huh?” Starsky set aside the cloth. “You rest and get well, and I’ll buy you the coldest beer in town when you get out of here. I’m gonna get the nurse now, okay?”

“Hurts…”

“I know it does. I’ll be right back.” Starsky walked to the door and waved to get the attention of the secretary at the desk. “Tell his nurse he needs something for pain, please.”

The secretary nodded and walked into the lounge area behind the nurses station. She returned quickly with a nod and wink. Starsky went back to sit down and in a matter of a few minutes the nurse arrived with a shot.

You must be hurtin’ pretty bad not to bitch about taking it. It seemed like forever for the medication to lessen the frown lines on Hutch’s face. The tight clenching and unclenching of Hutch’s fingers as Starsky held his hand broke Starsky’s heart. Using his free hand he bathed Hutch’s face and neck to cool him. He lowered the sheet a little to wipe Hutch’s chest and belly. Seeing the multiple ‘bat-shaped’ bruises on Hutch’s torso brought tears to his eyes. Resist, Abernathy! Even a little bit Give me any reason I can use to blow your fuckin’ brains out, Starsky thought in a red haze of fury. His mind’s eye briefly replayed the shot he took at the fleeing kidnapper’s car after he saw Hutch take a hit dead center that propelled him through a glass window. He’d forgotten that Hutch had been wearing a vest and in the heat of the moment thought Hutch was truly dead. Starsky had shot to kill and the car exploded.

Hutch gradually slipped into a drug induced sleep and Starsky eased their joined hands back to rest on the bed. Picking up the file again, Starsky began to read. He hadn’t been surprised to find Abernathy and Tillman had similar records of multiple complaints of police brutality and unnecessary use of force in their 201 file. Tillman had actually gotten an official reprimand and three days suspension without pay. Quick with your hands, are you boy. Maybe it’s time somebody gave you a taste of your own medicine.

Hutch stirred a little and Starsky looked up to see that he was awake again. His eyes were still a little glassy from the fever, but they looked more focused than the last time he’d been awake. “How’s Steve?” Hutch asked, not meeting Starsky’s eyes as if he were uncomfortable to be asking. “I never got there to back him up.”

“He took a few hard knocks, then stopped with his cover act and got in some licks of his own. The guy ran away and Steve made it back inside the bar to get some help.” Starsky leaned forward to meet Hutch’s gaze. “He’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. Don’t you dare take that on, you hear me?”

“I was stuck behind this big dumpster. I heard all the sirens. I was afraid Steve and the others were all dead. I kept fading in and out. I could see the flashing of the lights reflecting on the walls above me, but I couldn’t move to crawl out of there. I tried to yell loud enough for somebody to hear me. I could hear people in the alley, I knew they were there. I couldn’t believe nobody heard me. I kept thinking someone would come any minute, but they never did. Then they all went away and it was quiet. It was so cold… and quiet. I tried to push at the dumpster, but I only had one arm to use. I couldn’t budge it and I could feel the blood pouring out of me every time I tried. I finally gave up.”

“Everybody’s okay, don’t worry about it. They got a good description of the guy from Steve and he’ll be caught. Just a matter of time. Regardless, there haven’t been any more attacks so maybe he got scared and moved on. All you got to think about is getting well. Right now, that’s your job.” I’m going to get the guys that did this to you, that’s my job.

The rest of the night passed with Starsky dozing at intervals, a night of fitful starts and stops of sleep for both he and Hutch. Somewhere about 4 a.m. Hutch awakened, moving and struggling in the throes of a nightmare. Starsky reached out a hand to rest on Hutch’s chest to comfort him back to sleep. It had worked several times before during the long night, but this time had little effect. Starsky wearily pulled himself up out of the chair, his contorted muscles protesting everything about the position he’d been trying to sleep in. Holding Hutch’s face between his hands he tried to wake his friend. “Hutch, come on, babe. It’s only a dream. I’m here and you’re okay.”

Hutch tossed his head against the restraining hands, tears flowing beneath his tightly closed eyes wetting Starsky’s fingers. “I’m sorry… I’m really sorry. I’d take it back if I could. Please… don’t go… don’t…”

You’ve been through what they did to you and your nightmare is about me leaving? Oh, God, Hutch…

Starsky spoke louder this time and when it also had no effect, he turned and crawled in bed next to Hutch. He tightly wrapped his arms around him, rocking his body slightly and speaking a steady stream of comforting words into Hutch’s ear where he rested his own lips against it. “I’m here, buddy. I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay… we ‘re okay.” Whether or not Hutch actually ever woke up to know it was only a dream or if the words and touch eventually penetrated Hutch’s subconscious, Starsky didn’t know. But at long last he was quiet. His breathing slowed down to the rare hitch of leftover tears. That’s the way both men were when the morning shift change took place.

Starsky moved away from Hutch and hopped off the bed looking a little self-conscious. “It was the only way he could stay asleep,” he offered the nurse that entered with a surprised look on her face.

“I’ve got a lady a few doors down that screams most of the night. I’ll have to try that on her,” she said with a teasing smile. Dressings were checked, new antibiotics hung, and Hutch’s catheter bag emptied. Apparently satisfied with everything, the nurse left.

Starsky was still there waiting for Steve to take over when Dr. Bussell entered, making rounds. “Good morning.” Dr. Bussell smiled as he read over the chart. “Not too bad a night for the first one off the vent,” he offered, then hung the chart back on the rack at the foot of the bed. “How did you do?” he asked Starsky.

“Not too bad either,” Starsky answered with a rub at his neck from the chair-sleeping that had become second nature.

Starsky watched in silence as the doctor examined Hutch while he slept. He listened to his chest and abdomen, and pressed at places on Hutch’s belly which occasionally elicited a small squirm from the sleeping man.

“He’s got good bowel sounds now. I’ll pull that tube out of his nose and let him start with some ice chips, and see how he does. I’d like to get him started on liquids, then food. We’ll see if my repair work will hold once we put something through it.”

“He’s been really thirsty. I’ll bet he’d think some ice would taste like a million bucks,” Starsky said. “He’s doing better than you thought, right?”

“The fact that he’s still breathing at all is a lot better than I ever thought.” Dr. Bussell took a few steps away. “I fully expected he would have succumbed to sepsis and died by now. The fact that he hasn’t just tells me he’s got more to do here before his time is up. Gives me hope, Mr. Starsky. Even we healers need to believe in miracles.”

“Thanks for everything you did. Especially for helping Steve go find him. I’m sure if he hadn’t gotten to the hospital when he did, we wouldn’t be talking now.”

“You can thank my son for that. I was against it every step of the way. The only reason I went at all was because I knew he’d go alone and I was worried about him doing that.” Dr. Bussell took another step toward the door then turned. “My son loved being a cop. From his record, he seemed to be good at it. I’m sorry something like this had to happen to take it away from him, but I’m damned glad he’s still alive.”

“What do you mean, take it away?”

“Didn’t Steve tell you?”

Starsky shook his head.

“He’s almost blind in one eye and has patchwork vision in the other. His retina was damaged from the blows to his head. His little foray to find Ken was too much movement, too soon. It caused scaring where the retina had bled. Nothing can be done for it. Oh, he’ll see well enough to walk around and drive if he’s careful. But he’ll never go back to work as a police officer again.”

“He mentioned his eyesight was spotty, but I had no idea…” Starsky looked over at Hutch briefly then back to the older man standing by the door. “I’m sorry… I know Hutch will take the news about that really hard. I’d rather he not know while he’s still so sick himself.”

“I understand. I’d rather Steve tell him anyway. I thought Steve had told you or I wouldn’t have mentioned anything. I wouldn’t say your friend is out of the woods yet, but at least I’ll admit to the fact that the trees are thinning. Here are a few doctors that I’m comfortable recommending. I know Ken will be required to speak to one of the department counselors, but he might feel less inclined to be as forthright as he needs to be, since the counselor is, like himself, employed by the city.”

Dr. Bussell rubbed at tired looking eyes, then continued. “He’s been attacked on the most intimate and primal level a man can be. Having his sexual preference exposed and reviled… sodomized in a brutal and humiliating way, then tossed away like so much garbage to die, alone.” Dr. Bussell closed his eyes and shook his head as if the memory was that freshly painful.

“I think he should be encouraged to see one of these, or someone else he can trust to really talk about his feelings. It’s going to come out sooner or later. If he bottles it all up now, the explosion when it does occur… may be catastrophic. It would be better for him to vent a little at a time, hmmmm? Have the nurses contact me if you have any concerns.” Dr. Bussell gave a sad smile and left the room.

Starsky sat and digested what he’d heard from Dr. Bussell. Good to his word, a few minutes later an aid came in with a pitcher of crushed ice, a cup and a spoon. She was followed shortly by a nurse who awakened Hutch gently to tell him she’d be pulling the tube out of his nose. Starsky gagged right along with Hutch as the mile-long thing snaked its way up from Hutch’s stomach.

“Want to try a little ice?” Starsky asked when she was gone.

“God, yes!” Hutch’s voice sounded hoarse but stronger than Starsky had expected it to. Hutch opened his mouth like a bird and accepted the ice eagerly. “More…”

“Okay, but take it easy. I know from experience… if you puke they’ll put that thing back down.”

Starsky slowly fed Hutch a few more spoonsful, then set the cup aside. “Let’s let that settle, huh?”

Hutch frowned but agreed. “Nothing’s ever tasted so good.”

“Yeah, I know. Listen babe, Steve is going to sit with you again today for a while, but I’ll be back later. Okay?” Starsky took a few steps toward the door.

“Why, what are you going to do?”

“I’ve got some things to check out, swing by the station, go take a shower, change clothes. I want somebody with you, Hutch. You’re alive and a witness. Those three guys don’t know if you can identify them or not. If they’re cops, you’re a sitting duck in here. Humor me, okay?”

Expecting the comment to earn him a smile, he was surprised to see Hutch’s face darken. “I’m no threat! I couldn’t pick a single one of those guys out of a line-up. Their voices were muffled by the masks. I wish I could give you their names, damn it, but I can’t!”

Starsky moved quickly back to Hutch’s side. “Easy, babe…”

“Don’t you think I want to identify them?” Hutch was becoming agitated, struggling to try and sit up. Failing, he fell weakly back, crying out in pain.

“Hutch, relax, don’t hurt yourself moving like that! It’s okay. If it’s a little fuzzy right now, it’ll clear up. You don’t need to do anything right now but rest and get well.” It didn’t take a doctor to know that Hutch getting this upset wasn’t a good thing. Red lights flashed on the monitor above the bed and in no time Hutch’s nurse came in.

“You okay, Mr. Hutchinson?” she asked as she looked at the alarming numbers on the monitor, then turned to Starsky. “I don’t know what the topic of conversation was, but knock it off. Look at those vital signs.”

Starsky had looked as Hutch began to get upset and it had scared him. Heart rate 140, respiratory rate 44, blood pressure 160/108. The numbers were almost double what they had been all night.

She turned back to Hutch. “Mr. Hutchinson, try to calm down. Your heart rate and blood pressure are too high, you’re breathing too fast. This isn’t good for you. You’ve got to relax. Take slow deep breaths in and out. That’s right. In your nose, out your mouth. Relax, you’re doing great.” Hutch closed his eyes and tried to do as she asked, but even from where Starsky moved several feet away to make room for the nurse, Starsky could see the fine tremors wracking Hutch’s body as he trembled. Starsky glanced at the cooling blanket Hutch was lying on. It had stayed rock solid at 101.2 all night. Starsky watched in dismay as it climbed…the red numerals shining 101.7…no, 101.8,101.9,102. Aw, shit!

Starsky saw Steve out of the comer of his eye, walk up to the door and tap lightly on the door before entering. Moving hesitantly closer to Hutch, Starsky tried to ignore the glare from Hutch’s nurse. “I’m going to go get my stuff done and let you rest, buddy. Steve’s here. I’ll be back soon,” Starsky said, backing out of the room as he addressed Steve. “If he needs me, call. I won’t be gone long.”

“Okay, I’ll be here ’til you get back,” Steve answered with a quizzical look at both the  nurse and Starsky, then joined them in a frown at the monitor’s readings above Hutch’s head.

***

Starsky spent the better part of the day talking to the owners of the gay bars where the attacks had taken place. He showed Abernathy, Grimes and Tillman’s pictures to see if they had been involved in that action. He got nowhere. Discouraged and tired, he went back to the station. Dobey was just preparing to leave for the day as Starsky arrived.

“Hey, your paperwork is on my desk. Be here on time Monday morning. I’ll be introducing you to your temporary partner. Don’t glare at me, you know the rules. How’s Hutch?”

“Better, now that they took some tubes out. He’s breathing on his own and they’ll let him start on liquids soon. He’s fooled them all; he’s gonna make it.”

“Good, I’m more relieved than you know. What I saw when they brought him into then hospital… I wouldn’t have taken any bets on the outcome being a good one.”

I’m not sure I’d consider things having a happy ending just yet, Starsky thought, remembering Hutch’s emotional melt-down that morning. “I want to work the case Hutch and Steve had,” Starsky informed Dobey.

“Abernathy and Grimes have taken it. They were involved anyway. There isn’t any use trying to plant an undercover officer again as much press as the whole thing has gotten. That guy would be crazy to try anything again.” Dobey frowned and shook his head. “It’s a dead end.”

“It is as long as you have Abernathy and Grimes working it,” Starsky argued.

“Listen, Starsky. I’ve got six officers, and one of them is Hutchinson, saying the walkie talkie’s didn’t work and that was the reason back up was delayed. Believe me, I am as skeptical as you are and I’m damned sorry the fuck up injured two of my men…but I don’t have any proof to the contrary and neither do you. IA’s dismissing it, at least for now, but you better know that they haven’t forgotten it.”

“What!?” Starsky asked incredulously.

With a frown, Dobey moved back to his office door and unlocked it. “Let’s take this in here.”

Starsky followed, feeling the heat of his anger bum in his face. “I told you what they said at lunch…” Starsky shouted.

“Said, Starsky…said,” Dobey began with exaggerated patience. “The last time I checked the First Amendment was still in effect. They can say whatever they want as long as they don’t act on it. There weren’t any threats made, were there?”

“No, but…”

“None of them admitted to taking part in the delay of back up response to an officer down, did they?”

“No…but Captain…”

“Then we’ve got shit! Tillman will be your new partner. Orient him to the department.”

“No way! You and I both know he, Grimes and Abernathy are the ones who almost killed Hutch.”

“No, I don’t know any such thing and neither do you! I understand how you feel but without  any proof I can’t do a thing and you know it. Bring me one thing I can use… even a small thing… a piece of evidence, a witness… anything that we can use as probable cause for search warrants and I’ll go with you to serve them myself. But right now, all you’ve got are a few anti-gay slurs spoken in a bar on their lunch hour.”

“I don’t believe this…” Starsky could feel himself shaking.

“I don’t like Abernathy. I don’t think gays are his only issue of bigotry. I don’t much care for Grimes and I don’t know Tillman, but until we have something I can charge them with…the assignment stands.”

“You expect Hutch to come back and work in the same department with those creeps?”

“I expect Hutch to come back when he is medically cleared and conduct himself as the professional he is,” Dobey offered sternly.

Starsky stared a long moment in stony silence. “Yes, sir.” He turned on his heel, military style, and left the office. This time, Captain, I think you’re asking too much…of both of us.

 

Chapter 10 

Starsky relieved Steve in the early evening. He entered the room to find Steve and his friend, Dr. Myatt, sitting closely together side by side, talking quietly while Hutch slept.

“How is he?” Starsky whispered.

“They turned off the cooling blanket and his temp is holding. They’re looking for a private room up on the surgical floor and should move him shortly,” Dr. Myatt offered

“So soon?” Starsky asked with concern.

“His vital sign are stable, his last blood count showed his hemoglobin and hematocrit hadn’t dropped since the last transfusion, and his white count is coming down. It’s still sky high, but he’s responding to the antibiotics. There isn’t anything being done for him here that they can’t do up there,” Myatt explained.

“I told Dad I figured you’d still want to stay. He was going to order you a sleep-chair so at least you can open it out and lay down at night,” Steve said.

“Yeah, I’ll still be staying…”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday. You need me?” Steve asked.

“No… I’ll be here then, too. If he’s in a regular room, I’ll shower there.”

“I won’t tell,” Steve answered with a wink. “Let me know if you need to go do anything. I’ll be around.”

“Okay, thanks,” Starsky answered and watched as Dr. Myatt placed a steadying hand on the small of Steve’s back as the two men left.

***

A few hours later they were in a room upstairs. True to his word, Dr. Bussell had arranged for asleep-chair for Starsky and he looked longingly at it, relishing the idea of actually stretching out.

It was a rough night. Hutch’s pain medication was IM injections now rather than the IV pushes that took effect almost immediately. Delays in the medication’s arrival, coupled with the many long agonizing minutes waiting for it to take effect, made for a long night and arduous next day. The ice chips gave way to clear liquids with jokes about lukewarm chicken broth and green Jell-O. But Hutch ate fair and kept it all down, gradually beginning to look less fragile.

By Saturday evening, Starsky was getting cabin fever. When the nurse came in to say Hutch would be allowed to get up and walk a few steps in the hall, Starsky looked forward to it, whether Hutch did or not.

The trip outside of the room to the edge of the solarium at the end of the hall was less than twenty feet, but by the time Hutch had walked it, he was pale and shaky.

“Felt like a mile, huh?” Starsky teased, as he helped Hutch remove his slippers and lift his legs back in the bed.

“At least,” Hutch replied, winded.

Starsky pulled up the covers and offered Hutch some cold juice. “Want me to ring for them to bring you a pain shot?” Starsky asked, reaching for the call light.

“No…” Hutch shook his head. “I’ve been on that stuff around the clock for days now. I don’t want…”

“Hutch, don’t lay there and hurt. If you need it…”

“I don’t want to need it… get me?” Hutch snapped. “Let’s see if it won’t ease up just with me being still first, okay?”

Starsky drew in a breath to argue, then let it out slowly. “Want a back rub? Maybe it’ll help you relax.” he said instead.

Hutch rolled slowly to his side, dragging a pillow up between his legs with a grimace.

Starsky untied the strings to Hutch’s hospital gown, pushing the sides away, then reached for the lotion out of the bedside table. He warmed it in his hands and began rubbing careful slow circles over Hutch’s shoulders, up the tense muscles of his neck and down his back, mindful of the blue and green resolving bruises. “You used to do this for me, remember?” Starsky asked, thinking of the countless days and nights Hutch had massaged his muscles after doing his physical therapy before bed every night and before work the next morning. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

***

Sunday brought an overcast day and Hutch had a mood to match. Huggy came by shortly before noon, long enough for Starsky to go home and collect his mail. Then he went to Hutch’s apartment to do the same. He changed into some old sweats of Hutch’s and left the apartment for a run along the beach in preparation for his PT test the next day. He ran the course they had clocked months ago easily, did some sit-ups and push-ups for good measure, then went back to Venice Place to shower and clean up and return to the hospital.

Hutch was asleep when Starsky returned and he raised a questioning eyebrow in Huggy’s direction. The thin black man placed a finger against his lips and motioned Starsky back out the door.

“Hutch got a little irritable after you left…”

“He was irritable while I was here, so what’s new?”

“The nurse put out a call to his doc and they brought him a happy pill, then had to argue with him for half an hour to get him to take it. He finally did. It wiped him out. He’s been knocking out the zzzzz’s the last couple of hours.”

“Good, he didn’t sleep well last night. He probably needed it.”

Huggy gave him a skeptical look and a pat on the back. “Better you than me, that’s all I can say. They call me Huggy ‘cuz I’m cuddly like a teddy bear, not because I want to be around a real one. Good luck!”

“He’s been through a lot,” Starsky defended.

“Yeah, I know… so’ve you! Must be love…” Huggy gave him a more genuine smile as he turned away down the hall.

“Yep, that it is,” Starsky whispered as he opened the door and sat at the bedside of his lover.

The evening and night passed without event. Hutch took a second walk and did better, going several feet farther without as much pain. The improvement, a tangible one, seemed to lift his spirits. Or the happy pills are working, Starsky thought cynically. Regardless, it was a good night. Starsky had awakened only once to help Hutch go to the bathroom, and after a short-lived argument that Hutch take something for pain since it had been so many hours since the last shot, morning found both men more rested than in recent days. Hutch was still sleeping when Starsky slipped quietly out of the room as he turned his partner over to Steve for the day’s vigil.

Starsky returned that evening to relieve Steve and was encouraged by reports of Hutch’s continued improvement. He sat in the chair drinking a large soda and nursing some very sore muscles.

“Not exactly what we had planned, is it?” Hutch asked sadly.

“Not exactly…” Starsky answered. “But it’s done, I passed the damn thing. That’s all that matters. You and I can celebrate me passing the PT course anytime. It’s okay.”

Hutch sighed and turned his face away. “They assign you anybody yet?” he asked softly.

Starsky felt his jaw tighten. “Tillman.”

Hutch’s face snapped back to pierce Starsky with a steely glare. “IA’s closed it, haven’t they? They bought the radio malfunction…”

“Communication tech said there was a small crack in their crystal that could have caused the static. Nobody’s been able to re-create the problem since, but they said…”

“IA bought it and it’s a dead horse,” Hutch finished. “No reprimand, nothing?”

“The report’s in their file. I’m sure Dobey worded it in such a way that there’s no danger of any of those guys getting ‘Policeman Of The Year’.”

“No danger of them being charged with felony assault, either.” Hutch’s voice had a bitter ring. “I want to go home.”

“You’re doing good, eating a little now, it should be soon.”

“Yeah, maybe tomorrow, they said. I have to take a dump without falling apart first. That’s my ticket out of here,” Hutch gave a weak laugh. “I’m not looking forward to it,” he replied softly, his dread evident.

“Want me to run to Winchell’s and bring back a big bran muffin?”

“I’m afraid to eat anything…”

“Hutch, you can’t get your strength back that way. All these months…being back out on the streets together is what pushed me…pushed us. That’s still important to me, babe. I don’t want anybody else. Back out on the streets without you? Hell, I might as well stay in R&I.”

“You’d be a damned sight safer. Now, not only do we have to watch our back from the bad guys but maybe our own, too?”

“Are you saying you don’t want to come back?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking…I don’t know. I don’t think now is the right time for me to make a decision like that. My head’s pretty fucked up.”

“You’re doing great, Hutch,” Starsky encouraged softly, rubbing his hand up and down Hutch’s uncasted arm. I hope you don’t explode like the last time I said something encouraging. God, I wish you’d talk to the counselor Dr. Bussell suggested. Fat chance!

Hutch’s face took on an anxious look, his hand rubbing at his lower abdomen. With his lips set in a hard straight line, Hutch pushed the covers back and worked his legs off the edge of the bed to sit up. “You can forget the run for a muffin… I think the moment of truth is here.” Hutch walked stiffly into the bathroom looking like it was the path to a waiting electric chair.

“Want me to come with you?” Starsky offered, feeling helpless and uneasy.

“No… thanks anyway. Get comfortable, I may be a while.”

Starsky flipped the pages of a sport’s magazine but had he been asked what was on any of the pages, he’d have had no idea. The clock ticked… Starsky paced. He had knocked on the door earlier to see if his lover was okay and was met with “Leave me the fuck alone!” He rang for an aid to bring fresh water and ice… and paced some more. Finally the door opened and a white-faced and sweaty Hutch appeared.

Starsky went to his side like a shot. “You okay?” Starsky put his arm around his trembling partner.

“I have a new and greater respect for my mother and any other woman who has ever given birth.” Hutch eased back to bed to lie on his side. “Tell the nurse the eagle has landed. They wanted to know.”

Starsky left briefly to pass the word. As he was walking back into Hutch’s room a nurse’s voice sounded over the intercom. “Do you need something for pain, Mr. Hutchinson?”

“No, I’ll be okay in a little while. I’ll just go with the sleeper at bedtime,” Hutch answered while he wiped the sweat off his face with a comer of the sheet. “Starsky, you don’t need to spend the night in that chair. Go home. You need to be rested for work.

“Hmmm…this conversation sounds familiar, doesn’t it? Haven’t I heard those words before?” Starsky tapped one long finger on the point of his chin and looked innocently at the ceiling.

“I’m serious. I’m doing okay. I’ll be coming home tomorrow, and I don’t need a body guard. In all honesty… I’d like to be alone.”

Starsky’s head came quickly down from the teasing pose and met the ‘Hutchinson-behind-the- wall’ expression he hated.

“Hutch, I don’t mind being here, I want to…”

“What about what I want? Listen, please go home, will you? I know what you’re trying to do and I appreciate the caring… but I’m not like you, Starsk. When I’m sick, I’d rather just be left alone. Let me lick my wounds and heal with no audience.”

“The only way you could lick your wounds, would be if you were a cat,” Starsky tried teasing again.

Hutch stiffened, his face going from blank to black with fury. “You think that’s funny?” Hutch hissed. “Get out!”

“Hutch, I was only kidding… I just want to be here in case you need anything.”

“What I need is five minutes by myself so I can think. No babysitters, not Steve, not you. Please, why can’t everybody just leave me the fuck alone?”

Starsky schooled his face against the sting of those words and the anger behind them. “Okay, I’ll give you some space. Call me when you’re discharged tomorrow and I’ll come pick you up. Goodnight, partner.” Starsky leaned over and gave Hutch a quick kiss. Hutch moved his face a fraction at the last second making the kiss land at the comer of his mouth.

“See you tomorrow…” Starsky let his voice trail off, not adding the customary, ‘I love you’ as he left. Not because I don’t feel it, but because I don’t want to hear your answer in the mood you’re in right now…or the lack of one.

 ***

Starsky tossed and turned most of the night. Once sunlight began to brighten the bedroom, he gave up trying for more sleep and got out of bed. He puttered around while he waited for the coffee to brew, opening mail and doing some general clean up. He made a mental list of things to pick up at the grocery store for Hutch’s homecoming. Soup, juice, raisin bran and milk.

Starsky finished his second cup of coffee and looked at the clock. “It’s almost seven. The stores will be open by the time I get there.”

The phone was ringing inside Hutch’s apartment as Starsky entered with the groceries. “Hello…”

“There you are… I was calling your place. Why didn’t you sleep there last night?” Hutch asked.

“I did! I just went to the store so you’d have some food in and it wouldn’t make much sense to put it at my place only to move it over later, would it?”

“Oh… well.” Hutch sounded subdued. “I’m sprung. You can come get me anytime.”

“Let me put the stuff away and I’ll be right there. I’m glad you’re coming home.”

“Yeah, me too…” was Hutch’s flat reply.

The ride home was quiet. Hutch felt every bump in the road and showed it, in spite of how careful Starsky tried to be. The climb up the stairs was agony and Hutch was pale and sweating by the time Starsky got him settled on the couch.

“Can I fix you something to eat?” Starsky asked

Hutch shook his head emphatically, no, as he tried to adjust his position on the couch to get more comfortable.

Starsky went to the kitchen and filled up a large tumbler with ice and set it on the coffee table with a bottle of orange juice and Hutch’s water pitcher from the hospital, filled with fresh water. “At least drink a little every once in a while. Here’s your medicine,” Starsky took two bottles out of his shirt pocket and placed them on the table by the pitcher. “Are you sure you’re okay with me leaving?” Starsky asked. “I can call Dobey and…”

“No… you’re back on full duty. Go, I’m okay. No sense in both of us sitting here, staring at the ceiling.”

“Call me if you need anything, or if you want…”

“I’ll call. Go on. Get going. I’m going to just lay here and sleep anyway.”

Starsky looked closely at Hutch. He saw his partner, pale, weak, thinner… the dark shirt loose now…and angry, he thought. And you don’t even know who to be pissed at.

Starsky squatted next to Hutch’s face as he lay on the couch. “I’ll be back soon. I’ll give you a call. You can tell me what you feel like eating for dinner. I love you.” Starsky fingered the coins that nested at his throat and reached to take Hutch’s left hand. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Hutch caught the movement and understanding dawned, and with it a lessening of the pinched and strained expression he wore.

“I found the ring in your personal stuff when Dobey gave it to me at the hospital. I put it back on your hand.” Starsky ran his thumb over the band Hutch wore. “I didn’t find mine ’til later, here at your place.” Starsky smiled. “Slick trick, how’d you ever think of that? I love it. Makes me feel close to you all the time. Thanks,” he said simply.

Hutch reached out his arm, the fingers on the casted hand brushing against Starsky’s necklace. “I know. I’m lousy company right now. I’ll try not to be such a prick.” Hutch squeezed Starsky’s hand as he held it. “I love you, too.”

Starsky leaned in a little and gave Hutch a gentle kiss, putting all his love into it. “I’ll get home as quick as I can,” Starsky said with a last caress of his fingers through Hutch’s hair.

“I’ll be here,” Hutch sighed. Thank God! It was too close to not being the truth. Starsky couldn’t dwell on that thought and, with a suppressed shudder, he left the apartment

Tillman was sitting in Hutch’s chair when Starsky entered the squadroom. The wrongness of that hit Starsky like a physical blow. Fighting the very real desire to throw the man out on his ass, Starsky made a detour to the coffeepot to compose himself. Hoping he looked more nonchalant than he felt, Starsky moved to his customary chair, giving nods and waves of acknowledgement to the ‘welcome backs’ from some of the other detectives present.

Abernathy and Grimes wandered over as Starsky sat down. “Welcome back! How’s Hutchinson? I heard he left the hospital.”

“Yeah, I took him home this morning, that’s why I’m late. He’s doing fine, I guess.”

“He’ll be well enough to talk to IA then pretty soon?”

“I suppose. Not much to say though… he doesn’t remember a lot”

“Oh yeah?” Grimes piped in. “What’s the last thing he can remember?”

“Leaving the bar when Steve gave him the sign that he’d been approached. He doesn’t even remember making the call to dispatch when the walkie-talkie failed.”

“Damn, that’s too bad,” Grimes replied with such an obvious sigh of relief that Starsky would have almost laughed, had he not been sickened by the sight of him.

“I’d like to see the files you guys have on the gay batter. I’ve already looked over everything Bussell and Hutch had,” Starsky stated, all business.

“Why?” Abernathy asked, sotto voice. “There haven’t been any more attacks since that night. He’s probably long gone.”

“Captain Dobey gave me a file on a convenience store robbery and murder from last night I thought we’d go with that,” Tillman added.

“I don’t know how they do things in Vice, but here we can work more than one case at a time,” Starsky said, giving Tillman his full attention only briefly before returning his gaze to Abernathy. “The guy that beat up Steve is still a felon wanted for murder and multiple attempted murders. I don’t think ten days of inactivity warrants shelving it, do you?”

Abernathy stiffened. “It’s my first day back,” Starsky continued. “Help me make things look good, huh? We don’t have to look that hard,” Starsky whispered, leaning forward on his elbow as he gave Abernathy and Grimes his best smile.

“Okay, sure.. I get ya. I’ll bring it over after lunch. We’re going to Chichi’s, want to join us?”

“You guys go on, I’ll catch up with you. I’ve got to drop off Hutch’s disability stuff to Dobey… check in… you know.”

Tillman stood, then hesitated. “Want me to wait?”

“Nah… you go ahead. I’m going to read over that convenience store file while I wait for the Captain to come from the senior staff meeting, that’s all. I’ll meet you guys there. Then we’ll check out some places. I’ll show you around the beat, meet some of the snitches. You know the drill.”

“Catch you later, then.” Tillman stood and threw on his jacket. As he slid his arms in, his shirt rode up out of his pants, exposing a bruised area near his waist. Bat-sized bruises…green now in their resolving stage. Just like Hutch’s.

Starsky pulled over the file Tillman had been reading and struggled to focus on it as the three detectives exited the squadroom, leaving Starsky to wait for Dobey. He read over the patrolman’s report, then shook his head at the extreme differences in the descriptions given by the two witnesses. His experience let him easily picture the scene. The man who’d been shot and killed, unlucky enough to have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, entered the convenience store and spooked an inexperienced robber who was probably a whisker away from panic. It caused him to turn and fire, then run without ever getting the money he was after. Probably drug-driven, Starsky thought as he closed the file. He walked over to Abernathy and Grimes’s desk and picked up the file on the gay assaults, taking out the composite Steve had created with the department’s artist. He memorized every nuance of that face until he was satisfied that if he ever saw the man in question he’d know it. Referring to Steve’s statement he read, “Possible broken left leg.” He thumbed through Abernathy and Grimes papers but could find no documentation that local hospitals or clinics had been checked in case the man had, himself, sought medical treatment.

“Starsky,” Dobey called, standing at his office door without Starsky ever having seen him enter the squadroom. “I saw Tillman leaving with Abernathy and Grimes. That is your temporary partner, mister. Whether you like it or not…”

“They’re going to lunch, Cap, I said I’d catch up. I told them I had to give you Hutch’s disability papers.” Starsky stood and took a few steps toward his Captain.

“I got those papers in the mail this morning. Dr. Bussell filled them out before Hutch was discharged.”

“I know…” Starsky said with a smile as he walked past his boss and into his office.

Dobey shut the door soundly. “What are you trying to pull?”

“Just giving them enough rope, sir… giving them enough rope.” Starsky sat down, placing Abernathy’s file on Dobey’s desk in front of him.

“You realize that they have made zero progress on this case since Steve and Hutch were assaulted. Steve’s statement reflected his belief that he’d inflicted significant injury to the attackers left leg. As in, he was pretty sure he’d broken the guys knee-cap. Do you see anything in there about checking hospitals, ER’s, doctor’s offices, or anywhere else, for someone seeking care for such an injury?”

“Maybe they just haven’t turned in those notes yet,” Dobey offered without much conviction.

“Their comment to me was more along the lines of: there haven’t been anymore beatings so the guy’s probably long gone. I say he’s probably in a leg cast and can’t get around. What are we looking at? Five, six weeks, then therapy after it comes off. It could be two months or more before this creep is ready to go dancing again.”

“I hear ya… you’ve got something. Work it and keep me informed.” Dobey reached for some papers on his desk. “Oh, by the way… I gave Tillman a new case.”

“I saw it. I’ll check out some snitches. It felt like a drug driven robbery gone wrong. Some nickel and dimer needing to score and taking a step up in desperation.”

“That was my take on it, too. When I handed it to Tillman you’d have thought I just asked him to find Jimmy Hoffa. He’s really green. Be careful. Don’t expect him to work the way you and Hutch did if you get in a tight spot.”

“No danger of that!” Starsky turned to leave.

“Get something on these guys, will you?” Dobey’s face reflected his disgust. “I need to get a real replacement in here.”

Starsky gave a small salute of understanding as he left the office.

 

Chapter 11

Starsky drove directly to Chichi’s, reminding himself to drive around the beat area after lunch at least a little, to make it look like he was trying to orient the new guy.

He stepped into the bar and removed his sunglasses, giving his eyes a second to adjust to the dim light. With a wave at the bartender, he motioned he’d be joining the three men at the back who were already eating. With a smile at the waitress he gave her his order as he passed. “Hamburger with everything, a large Coke and an order of chili-cheese fries, schweetheart.”

He walked to the table and dropped his sunglasses at the empty spot next to Tillman, then motioned toward the bathroom with his thumb.

Starsky paused at the payphone right outside the bathroom door. Fumbling in his tight pocket for a dime, he called Hutch. The line was busy. He depressed the cradle of the receiver and dialed again.

“Hello…” was answered on the first ring.

“Hi, you musta just hung up.”

“Yeah… Starsky…” Hutch’s voice sounded tense and a little breathless.

“What’s the matter?”

“The phone call I just had… that was… the gay batter… he called here.”

“What?” Starsky choked on the word. “He called you at home?”

“He wanted me to know it wasn’t him! I guess there was a blurb in the newspaper talking about the lack of progress in the case. It mentioned that both of the injured police officers were now recuperating at home.”

“Great!” Starsky frowned. “Did he say anything else…sound at all threatening?”

“No… just the opposite. He said he felt badly that a bunch of copy-cats got involved and hurt an innocent party.”

“Damn, that came out of the blue… Well, at least we know he’s still around. How you doin’?”

“I… I feel a little vulnerable here. I need to get out… I need to… g… g… go and b…b…buy a gun. Mine are all in the evidence locker from the alley… I’ve got nothing…”

“My back up is in a belt clip in the bottom drawer under my jeans. Go get it. But don’t leave the house. You’re in no condition to be driving around anywhere. Okay?”

“Okay… I got it. It’s loaded. I’ll be fine. The call was just weird to wake up to. Kinda shook me, you know? I’m … I’m okay,” Hutch said, sounding anything but.

“Take your medicine and eat something. I’ll call again before I head home. And if that guy contacts you again… call me.”

“Yes, mother,” Hutch replied, sounding a little more like himself.

“Kiss my ass,” Starsky laughed his reply.

“That’s about all I’m up to,” Hutch answered, a trace of the hollow depression of late still echoing. “See you later.” The line went dead.

Starsky walked back to the table, the smell of his just arrived food greeting him.

“What the hell is that?” Grimes asked, pointing with his chin at Starsky’s plate.

“Chili-cheese fries. They make the best in town here. You outta try ’em,” Starsky announced as he dug in.

“I don’t eat anything that resembles an abortion,” was Grimes grisly reply. Starsky ignored him, and the laughter of the others, attacking his food with enthusiasm.

“So, what’s on the agenda for the rest of the afternoon?” Tillman asked.

“I’ll show you around the beat, meet a few snitches. We can go do a prelim on the convenience store thing, but I think that’s a no-brainer. Then give the emergency rooms and clinics a shake for the guy that clobbered Steve.”

“I thought we agreed to let that sleeping dog lie?” Abernathy said.

“I said I wasn’t going to try too hard. There was a thing in the paper about the lack of progress in the case. That makes Dobey look bad. If Dobey looks bad, he isn’t fun to live with. Believe me, you don’t want that. Not unless you want to be re-doing every report you turn in because there’s a typo on it.”

“If we stumble on him accidentally, we can always buy him a drink,” Grimes joked.

“You bet!” Starsky piped up without looking up from his plate. “I need to do more than That. Hell, I’ll buy him dinner. He’s solved my problems…”

“How’s that?” Abernathy asked, his tense body language after Grimes’s statement giving way to intense interest as he leaned forward in the booth.

“Steve’s not coming back. Didn’t you hear?” Starsky asked. “He has some permanent loss of vision in one eye. He’s going out on a work related medical.” Starsky looked up chewing the last of his lunch and wiping his mouth with the napkin. “Hey, don’t get me wrong, I’m sorry he got hurt. He’s a good cop. I wish he’d taken it, like you said, to San Francisco where he’d fit right in. I never wanted him to be hurt I just didn’t want him around Hutch no more.”

“How’s Hutch doing?” Grimes asked.

“He’s okay. Moving slow, you know. Hell, two weeks ago nobody thought he’d live. He doesn’t remember anything about the attack. He hates that. It’s just as well, if you ask me. Easier for him to forget it and go on.”

“Yeah,” Tillman joined the conversation, keeping his eyes downcast on his plate under the pressure of a hard and icy stare from Abernathy. “Probably just as well.”

Starsky burped his appreciation of his lunch and tossed his napkin down on the empty plate. “Ready?” he asked Tillman as he slid out of the booth to his feet.

Tillman tossed his money on the table, but when Starsky started to do the same, Abernathy waved his money away.

“It’s on me! Call it a welcome back home present. Metro needs more men like us…real men!”

“What’s the matter, Bud? Your wife bum the quiche last night?” Grimes teased as he nudged Abernathy out of the booth.

“My ol’ lady knows better! I have never eaten quiche, sushi either!” Abernathy quipped, standing and adjusting his gun and jacket before heading to the door.

“Hey, Bud…” Starsky said as they were all outside. “You don’t have an extra flashlight, do ya? I can’t find the one that’s always been in the car. Maybe Hutch took it in his place while he was driving my car or something. If you’ve got an extra, can I borrow it until I can look for mine or get it replaced?”

“Sure. I think there’s a spare in my trunk.” Abernathy opened the trunk of his Impala. In the far edge of the trunk Starsky caught sight of a fold of black knit material with an eye-sized hole. Winking out of the hole was the unmistakable light yellow wood… typical of baseball bats. Abernathy reached in with both hands. One drew out the large police issue flashlight, while the other dragged the edge of a green wool Army blanket forward to cover up the edge of the exposed fabric.

“Here you go. I’ve got another extra. Keep it,” Abernathy said as he quickly shut the trunk.

“Hey, great, thanks! If mine doesn’t turn up, I’ll put in a requisition for another. Thanks again,” Starsky turned to a white-faced Tillman. “Ready?” Starsky took a few steps toward his car and turned back to Tillman who had lagged behind. “You okay? You look like your lunch didn’t sit right. You shoulda had the chili-cheese fries. Look at me? I’m fine!” You saw the mask and bat, too, didn’t you kid?

The remainder of the afternoon Starsky drove around the beat pointing out areas of concern, people usually good for reliable information, and kept up a steady stream of dialogue regarding things, new, even to Starsky. Many things had changed in their area during the long months of recovery. The entire time Tillman made a few notes for future reference but all in all was unaccustomedly quiet.

Starsky turned the car toward Metro to call it a day, tired of the pretense. He was beginning to feel a sense of unease and concern about Hutch, in spite of the fact that Starsky had stopped once during the afternoon to call and check on him.

He dropped Tillman at his car in the parking garage and logged them off. With a wave at the younger man, Starsky palmed the wheel and turned the car out of the garage in the direction of Venice Place.

Bounding up the steps, Starsky stopped to take a deep breath and enter quietly in case Hutch was asleep. As he stepped in he was confronted by Hutch leveling a .45 automatic at Starsky’s head from his vantage point on the couch.

“Whoa… hey, it’s me!” Starsky hastily identified himself as he sidestepped out of the line of fire as Hutch slowly lowered the weapon.

“Sorry, I was half asleep and just heard the door opening.”

“Any more phone calls?” Starsky asked, walking casually past the couch and taking the gun from Hutch’s hand to place it in its holster on the coffee table.

“No… it’s been quiet. I’ve dozed on and off most of the day.” Hutch sat all the way up with a wince, slowly turning his legs so his feet rested on the floor. “How was your day?”

Starsky looked at his lover’s face, the dark circles and pallor making his guts twist. I saw one of the bats they beat you with, Starsky thought, but answered aloud, “Okay. I showed Tillman around a little… went through the motions, anyway.”

Hutch nodded but with little interest as he levered himself up off the couch and shuffled into the bathroom, closing the door.

“That’s a first,” Starsky muttered, then with a shrug, removed his jacket and holster, pulling his shirt out of his pants and unbuttoning it to let it hang loose and comfortable. “You hungry?” he yelled in the direction of the closed door, but got no reply. As he drew in a breath to shout again the door opened.

“Nah… I had some soup a while ago.” Hutch paced aimlessly around the central area of the apartment as Starsky watched.

“Feel like Chinese? That’s kinda soft. I could warm you up something later if you get hungry before we go to bed…” Starsky suggested heading for the phone to call in a delivery order.

Hutch gave a non-committal shrug and continued pacing, his latest lap making a detour to include the sleeping alcove. At first Starsky thought Hutch was going to lie down, but he continued to hear the soft footfalls of his partner’s pacing.

After a few moments, Starsky followed the sound, interrupting Hutch’s progress by stepping into his path. “Gonna wear a hole in the floor?” he asked softly. He reached his hand out and placed it gently on Hutch’s belly. It felt distended and hard. Under his fingers he could feel as well as hear the gurgling. “Gas pains, huh? I thought so. I remember quite a few really long walks in that hall at the hospital myself,” Starsky said. “Hey, all your stitches are on the inside, and you’re supposed to sit in that hot water thing a couple of times a day, anyway. Let me run the tub full for you. It’ll help.” Starsky gave Hutch an encouraging smile and went to work.

In no time Starsky interrupted Hutch’s walking again. Taking him by the hand, Starsky led Hutch into the prepared bathroom. The lights were off and several candles flickered in the early evening breeze coming in from the greenhouse. Starsky shimmied out of his jeans and stepped into the tub, holding Hutch’s hand to steady him as he unbelted his robe and stepped in, too.

The men sank slowly into the warm water, Starsky supporting Hutch’s weight until he was settled and leaning back against Starsky’s chest. With a large bath sponge, he squeezed warm water over Hutch’s chest and stomach while the other hand rubbed slow soapy circles over the swollen, painful area. Gradually, the rumbling lessened and Hutch found relief. With a grateful sigh he rested his head back on Starsky’s shoulder.

“I kept having crazy dreams while I was sleeping today.”

“Oh yeah? What about?”

“I didn’t know where I was for sure. I was lying on something hard and cold. I thought maybe it might have been a concrete floor…”

“They had you on an ice blanket because your temperature was so high,” Starsky informed.

“I was naked and tied down… I thought it had to be hell. I felt like I was on fire, so that had to be the only explanation. I hurt so bad. I was choking on something rammed down my throat. Every orifice of my body had been penetrated. I felt like I was being ripped apart. The harder I struggled to get away the tighter they tied me…whoever they were.” Hutch’s voice painted a haunted picture.

Hutch made a dry mirthless laugh. “Then, I thought maybe some of Simon Marcus’s group had gotten me and were going to torture me to death for having arrested him. He’d been given the death penalty and so had I, in retaliation.”

“Aw, Hutch…” Starsky wrapped his arms protectively around his partner.

“I heard voices almost all the time… I guess that’s what made me think of Simon.. .that damned chanting.”

“Don’t remind me.” Starsky gave a shudder of his own.

“Then I thought I heard your voice, but I didn’t believe it was real.”

“Why not?”

“Because I was still tied down and they were still hurting me.” Hutch hung his head. “I guess that’s when I really felt like I was losing it. I couldn’t understand why you wouldn’t help me. I went with the only thing I could think of at the time and kept trying to scream so you could hear me. Kept trying to say I was sorry, don’t be mad at me anymore. I kept hoping if I could make you hear, that you’d help me. Then, I thought I was still in that alley and I was begging you to help me there, too. To take it out… what… what they’d… stuck in me, and not go away.” Starsky remembered Hutch becoming agitated while in ICU, fighting the ventilator’s life preserving tubes and straining against his restraints. To hear his lover’s perception of that time sickened him.

“I thought you were hallucinating from the fever. I tried talking to you but I never believed you knew I was there. When you opened your eyes, they were wild… no wonder you looked so scared. To you, you really were in hell.”

“Seemed like the only logic I could grab a hold of.” Hutch sat forward a little with a groan as his body protested the movement and the change in pressure against his buttocks. “I can’t imagine hell being any worse than that…” Hutch said in a small voice. “You there, but not helping… not caring…

“Ohhh, God, Hutch. I’m not mad at you, babe… not now, not then. I didn’t know what to do to help. I called the nurses to give you medication for the pain. You had to be connected to all the tubes and machines…” Starsky leaned forward to get a better look at Hutch’s face. “That’s what you were dreaming all day?”

Hutch hesitated for a second before he looked away from Starsky’s gaze and nodded.

“Baby…I’m so sorry. It’s all over. I swear it really is.” Starsky turned Hutch’s face a fraction. “Look at me, Hutch. It’s. All. Over. Everything’s going to be okay. We’re okay.”

Hutch’s lips quivered just for a second before he said, “I love you.”

“I love you, more,” Starsky answered and kissed him.

They rested together until the water began to cool and the gooose bumps Starsky saw rising on Hutch’s legs signaled him to stand and pull Hutch carefully out of the water with him. Letting all his love show in the action, Starsky dried his lover and led him to bed.

“No, I don’t want to sleep yet. Put some old movie on… I’ll watch it with you,” Hutch said, steering them away from the bed like it was a demon to be avoided.

“Okay, Blintz. Come on. You can sleep through Godzilla, you always do.”

Hutch got up halfway through the movie to pace again. Starsky watched without comment for a few long minutes. Finally, “You hungry yet? I can heat up the fried rice…”

“No, I’m not hungry.” Hutch frowned at Starsky for a few seconds. “Steve was here today…” he began.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Did you know about his sight?” Hutch asked, standing behind the back of a kitchen chair, his knuckles in a white-tight grip there.

“Sort of…” Starsky hedged.

“Did you or not? It’s not a hard question. Yes or no?”

“I know what Steve’s dad told me. Steve hinted at a problem once, but never said anything was set in stone. I…”

“He’ll be medically discharged out of the department. You knew! When were you going to mention it to me, huh?” Hutch snapped.

“When Dr. Bussell told me about the problem, you were still in ICU. I didn’t figure you needed anything else to worry about.”

“So you’d wait to tell the invalid when you felt he could handle it?”

“Hutch…”

“I guess I wasn’t the only one who got fucked in the alley that night,” Hutch spat in disgust. “Shit…how did it all go so wrong?”

“It wasn’t your fault! It wasn’t anything you did wrong,” Starsky said.

Hutch whirled away from the kitchen chair, approaching Starsky in full attack mode. “Don’t you get it?” he roared.

“Get what? That you personally assume the guilt for just about everything? Yeah… after all these years with you, I do get that!”

“That could have been you! If you’d have comeback to unrestricted duty a week earlier, it would have been!”

Starsky stood staring at the perfect stranger in front of him wearing his lover’s face.

“Yeah, it could have been, but it wasn’t! What happened to Steve was a damned shame and we’ll get the guy that did it. It wasn’t your fault. It didn’t happen because you made a mistake. You weren’t a lousy partner. If Abernathy and Grimes hadn’t stopped you…”

“What?” Hutch crossed the remaining distance between them in long strides. “You know who it was?”

Starsky stopped and backed up a few steps. “Not for sure. I don’t have the proof I need for a warrant, but I’m working on getting something concrete so they can be charged.”

Hutch stood in the center of the room, his chest heaving. “Cops…” his voice was a hoarse whisper. “Cops from our own department. My God… if they came after me, they might do the same thing to you! Not answer a call for assistance, bogus alarm to lure you out somewhere and…”

“Hutch, no! Their window of opportunity is closed with the original guy incapacitated. They aren’t going to do anything that obvious… too many eyes would be on them like white on rice. Besides… they don’t think I’m…” Starsky hesitated and dropped his eyes, but not before he saw Hutch’s eyes widen in shocked understanding.

“Hutch, don’t look at me like that. I’m letting them think what I need to, to bait the hook. That’s all, babe… no surprises.” Starsky inched closer, putting a hand on each of Hutch’s shoulders. “You’re all I want… today, tomorrow… forever. Making them think otherwise is just like any other undercover gig. You gotta believe me. If I’d wanted a woman…” Starsky stopped, unsure if in Hutch’s fragile emotional state now was the right time.”… we both know they’re out there,” Starsky finished.

“What if I can’t ever… you know…”

“You’re healing, babe… more than just physically. One day at a time.” Starsky took Hutch’s left hand and ran his thumb across the band there, while with the other hand he touched the coins that carried the matching band nested at his neck. “Forever…” he said with conviction. “Isn’t that what it says?”

“Yes, but…”

“Listen, if I rolled the Torino tomorrow and broke my back… say I’m paralyzed from here down…” Starsky gestured at his own waist. “Would you throw us away?”

“No…” Hutch replied quickly.

“Okay, then. Subject closed.” Starsky cupped Hutch’s face between his palms and moved closer to take his mouth in a gentle kiss. He started to pull back when he felt Hutch’s arms wrap around him with a fierce desperation. Hutch opened his mouth and his tongue demanded entry into Starsky’s mouth. The kiss deepened and they pressed tightly together. Rapidly filling erections on each man began grinding together.

Starsky broke away first, feeling a little breathless. “I don’t know if you’re ready for this yet.”

“You’re probably right… but at least you know it works,” Hutch answered with a shadow of his normal smile.

“Let’s go to bed, Blintz,” Starsky suggested and Hutch gave an answering nod.

They slowly undressed and slipped into bed, Starsky letting Hutch assume a position of comfort before spooning up behind him and holding him gently.

“No bad dreams, babe. I’ve gotcha! Sleep tight.” Starsky whispered his assurance and both men fell asleep.

 

Chapter 12

Starsky killed the alarm just minutes before it was due to sound and quietly eased out of the bed without waking his partner. He felt rested and was encouraged by Hutch’s apparent solid night’s sleep. He grabbed clean clothes and tip-toed to the shower to get ready for work, his mind ticking off his list of ‘to-do’s’ for the day.

Leaving a note next to the pot of fresh coffee, Starsky threw on his holster and jacket and silently left the apartment.

Once at the station he went to his desk. Taking the police sketch out of Steve’s file, he made multiple copies and sat down to wait for Tillman to arrive. He’d barely finished the coffee in his cup when the young man entered. While Starsky felt rested and refreshed since the day before, Tillman looked like the exact opposite. Circles under puffy eyes proclaimed he had slept little if at all.

“I hope she was worth it,” Starsky quipped as Tillman poured his cup of coffee and came to sit at the desk across from Starsky.

“Wh…what?”

“Whoever you were with that kept you up all night,” Starsky finished.

“Oh… it wasn’t a date. I think my lunch didn’t set right, like you said yesterday.” Tillman gave his lame excuse. “So, what’s on the docket for today?”

Starsky patted the manila envelope he’d placed the composite copies in and stood. “Legwork, junior… legwork… C’mon.” Starsky finished his coffee and walked toward the door, one ear listening to be sure Tillman was following. A slow scrape of the chair against the squadroom floor assured Starsky that he was.

Once in the Torino, Tillman picked up the envelope to examine its contents. “What are we going to do with these?”

“Check out hospitals and clinics, doctor’s offices. Find out if anyone treated this guy and if so, do they have a name and address,” Starsky explained.

“Then?”

“Then we arrest him because he’s one of the bad guys. Understanding why he did what he did doesn’t change the fact that it was against the law.” Starsky spoke slowly as if to a child. “Besides, it’ll look great on our record. Dobey will retire eventually… got me?”

Tillman nodded with a knowing smile… “Got ya.”

They spent the day canvassing the area around Sunset, hitting hospitals and clinics first. Shortly after lunch they hit pay dirt.

“Why yes, I recognize this young man,” admitted the receptionist of the clinic, a middle aged woman with over-processed blonde hair. “His name is Paul Heckling. We saw him here a couple of weeks ago, I guess, was the last time. He came in with a knee injury. Before that, maybe once or twice a year for routine things, you know. He was a professional dancer.” She shook her head sadly. “Such a nice young man…”

“Was?” Starsky emphasized her choice of words.

“Yes, he broke his kneecap in a fall. We sent him to Orthopedic Hospital downtown, right away… but he waited too long before coming in. Thinking it was just a bad sprain, I suppose. He has his routine follow up care here, it’s closer to home. Kinda hard to get around in a long leg cast. The prognosis was never very good from what they told him. He’ll probably never dance Swan Lake again.”

“That is a shame,” Starsky answered with sympathy in his tone. “Do you have an address, please? We think he may have been a witness to an assault a few weeks ago and we’d like to ask him some questions.”

She hesitated for only a moment. “Normally you’d have to have an official request for me to give you any personal patient information, but Paul is such a nice man, I’m sure he’d be happy to help the police if he had the opportunity.” She looked through some files and jotted down an address on a note pad, tearing off the top sheet and handing it to Starsky. “Here you go.”

“Thank you so much. You’ve been great I’ll be sure to let Paul know how well you think of him.” Starsky took the note and with a feral grin at Tillman turned and left the office.

Tillman slammed his door causing Starsky to glare in his direction as he started the car. “What’s the matter with you?” Starsky asked.

“He’s a ballet dancer…the gay batter is a … queer!”

“He’s automatically gay because he’s a dancer?”

“What the fuck do you think?”

“I think you’re making a stereotypical judgment. That’s like saying every woman with big boobs is a whore or all fat people are stupid and lazy.”

“Well…this is different. How many straight men do you know that are into ballet?” Tillman challenged.

“I arrested one a few years back. The man was definitely in to women and the jump he made getting away… Shit, he was one hell of an athlete, even with a gimpy leg. I couldn’t follow him, and I was younger and in better shape then.”

Tillman gave a snort of disbelief.

“Well, what about yourself?” Starsky asked, slowing the car to look more closely at the apartment numbers.

“What about me?”

“You fit a stereotype, too. Blond, too pretty. Haven’t you heard that all your life? Too pretty to be a boy, should have been a woman…” Starsky baited. “Hutch told me he used to hear that all the time…”

Tillman’s face was red with fury. “Shut up! You just shut the fuck up!”

Score! Starsky thought with an inner smile while the face he turned to the angry man was one of schooled innocence. “Sorry, didn’t mean to push any buttons. I was just trying to make a point.” Starsky glanced quickly at the passenger seat where Tillman sat silently fuming. “Looks can be deceiving, kid. The guy that beat up Steve and the others thought he was making a statement against a lifestyle. He’s free to make the statement, but he’s not free to punctuate it with a baseball bat. The ones who hurt Hutch were wrong! I’ve known him since the Academy. He was married then, but his wife thought being married to a cop instead of a doctor was too big a step down. He’s been serious about a couple of ladies since then, so’ve I. It just didn’t work out. If being a good looking man is all the reason anyone needs to bash your head in… you’d better watch your ass…”

“I didn’t know Hutchinson had ever been married. I… I heard he and…” Tillman stopped.”

“You heard what?”

“I thought… he and Bussell…”

“Steve’s gay… he’s pretty open about it. I mean he didn’t broadcast it at the station, but his family knew. He’s got a friend he’s with. Now that he’s going out on a medical, he’ll probably be even more open about it. But there was never anything but a cop to cop professional relationship between him and Hutch. You can take that to the bank!”

“And Hutchinson was okay with having Steve as a partner?”

“Temporary partner,” Starsky corrected. “Steve’s a good cop. Hutch minds his own business. As long as Steve could cover his back, Hutch wouldn’t give a damn what he did behind closed doors.” Starsky stopped the car. “Come on, here we are.”

Tillman looked distracted and confused as he got out of the Torino and followed Starsky up the stairs to apartment #203.

Starsky motioned for Tillman to take the other side of the door and drew his own weapon. Looking to see that Tillman followed suit, Starsky waited a second before knocking on the door.

“Who is it?” came a voice from inside.

“Pharmacy, Mr. Heckling. We’re delivering a new prescription your doctor called in.”

“Just a minute…”

Starsky could hear shuffling behind the door as it was unlocked and slowly opened. “I didn’t know anything about a new prescription…”

Starsky gave the opening door a shove, knocking Heckling off balance. He and his crutches landed in an awkward heap just inside the door.

“Paul Heckling, you are under arrest for the assault of a Police Officer. You have the right to remain silent…” Starsky continued the Miranda speech as he pulled the man to his feet and settled him in a chair.

“I didn’t know the last guy was a cop, I swear, I didn’t. The other one that got hurt at the same time… that wasn’t even me. I called him and told him so. That wasn’t my fault!”

“Here are your crutches, Mr. Heckling. We’re going downtown.”

Starsky held open the door as the prisoner hobbled out.

***

Starsky went to his desk. After consulting the Rolodex he dialed a number. When a voice answered, he said, “You might want to come down here, Bussell. I’ve got your boy. A solid ID from you would be good!”

“You’re shittin’ me…” Steve’s voice answered.

“Nope… you were right. You broke his knee. After I saw that it wasn’t hard.”

“I’ll be right down. Give me thirty minutes,” Steve hesitated, then continued. “Starsky…thanks,” Steve finished and the line went dead.

Starsky sat down at his typewriter and began the arrest report. He glanced around briefly before starting to type and noticed Tillman had disappeared. Grimes and Abernathy, both seated at their desks when Starsky had entered, were conspicuously missing also.

A while later, Starsky pulled the completed report out of the typewriter, signing it with a satisfaction he hadn’t felt in quite a while.

He looked up to see Captain Dobey standing across from him. “Where’s your partner?”

“He’s home…” Starsky felt a moment’s confusion at the question.

“I meant Tillman…”

“I don’t know. He disappeared right after we got back here. He didn’t look too good this morning, so maybe he’s in the John.”

“Does Bussell know you made the collar?” Dobey asked.

“Yeah, he’s on his way in to make the ID.”

“Good. No slip-ups. I want this guy so tight when we bring the case to court he doesn’t have any room to wiggle.”

“Yes, sir. I want that, too.”

“Have everyone seated in chairs for the line-up. Blankets on their laps, hiding their legs. That will be easier than trying to get crutches for everyone.”

“They’re already working on that in booking.”

Dobey looked past Starsky’s head to the entry door and smiled. “Speak of the devil…”

Starsky turned to see Bussell walking in.

“Long thirty minutes,” Starsky said with a glance at his watch.

“I took a minute to call Hutch.”

“You what?” Starsky said feeling his temper begin to boil.

“I thought he’d want to know,” Steve answered calmly.

Starsky slammed the report he’d just signed into his ‘out’ box and stood. Taking Steve by the arm he pulled him out the door and down the hall the short distance to the men’s room. Once inside he turned his full fury on Steve.

“What the hell makes you think you have any right to call Hutch to tell him anything?

“Get your hands off me!” Steve growled, jerking his arm free. “He was feeling so guilty yesterday when I saw him. I thought it would help if he knew…give him a little closure.”

“His head is messed up enough with everything that’s happened to him. Don’t fuck with my partner!” Starsky hissed.

“Interesting choice of words,” Steve said with a smirk.

Starsky took a step back, fist drawn and ready to strike, when he heard voices on the other side of the door and getting closer. One he recognized immediately. Grabbing the front of Steve’s jacket he roughly shoved him into a bathroom stall. With a jerk of his thumb he motioned Steve to get up on the commode with him to hide their feet from sight. Starsky stepped quickly up also, his hand covering Steve’s mouth to silence him.

The bathroom door opened and three men walked in talking in hushed tones.

“I tell you, he said Hutchinson wasn’t gay. He was married, Bud… you never said anything about that. Did you even know?” Tillman asked, keeping his voice low.

Starsky eased his hand away from Steve’s mouth, both men listening intently.

“Lots of queers were married, that’s the operative word… were. I’m telling you what I saw in the parking lot in this very building,” Abernathy said.

“Starsky’s straight. Maybe he thinks with Bussell out of the way things will get back to normal with Hutchinson. I hope that’s true… then what we did to him was just a warning. Hopefully he’ll see it that way,” Grimes offered.

“Right, and then what we did was worth it. All in all, I think that night was doubly successful,” Abernathy spoke again.

“Why?” Tillman asked.

“Because our action kept Steve from getting any back up and he’s out of the picture and Hutchinson saw the light.” The last of the phrase was spoken like a TV evangelist. And all three of the men laughed.

“Whether he saw the light or not, I don’t think after the baseball bat he’ll want anything else up his ass,” Grimes said still laughing.

Starsky felt his rage building to the boiling point. He clamped his teeth so tightly shut his jaw was aching. He drew in great gulps of air through dilated nostrils as he waited for the sound of the laughter to fade as the three officers left the washroom. Starsky could feel the tension of Steve’s controlled rage vibrate against him in the close quarters. Starsky waited a few more seconds before stepping down and going to listen at the door. Opening it a crack to be sure the coast was clear, he motioned for Bussell to follow and they slipped unnoticed out of the bathroom and went directly to Dobey’s office.

“We got it!” Starsky announced as he and Steve entered without preamble.

“Got what?” Dobey said looking up. “Don’t you knock?”

“Proof! We just heard Grimes, Abernathy and Tillman talking about their attack on Hutch and the deliberate delay of the back up for Steve.” Starsky’s voice quivered slightly and he was shivering like the room was very cold. He glanced at Steve who had remained silent, the jumping of his jaw muscle the only outward sign of emotion.

Dobey stood and walked around his desk, snagging his suit coat off the back of his chair and shrugging into it. Pulling his pants up a bit on his belly he adjusted the gun in his belt clip and unbuckled the snap on his handcuff case. “I said I’d cuff them myself if you brought me anything we could charge them with. I meant it!” Dobey stopped at a file cabinet on his way to his office door and pulled out a second pair of handcuffs. He tossed them to Bussell. “I’ll take Grimes, Starsky, you can take Abernathy, and Bussell, you take Tillman,” Dobey said with a predatory smile. “Ready?”

“Damned straight!” Starsky almost laughed to himself at his choice of words. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steve smile.

Dobey led the way with Starsky and Bussell close behind. They went directly to Abernathy’s desk where all three men were quietly talking.

“Robert Abernathy, Thomas Grimes and Bradford Tillman, you are all under arrest for the attempted murder of Kenneth Hutchinson and conduct unbecoming an officer of the Los Angeles Police Department in deliberately causing a delay in the back up of an officer down,” Dobey said slowly and calmly. Every eye on him, the squadroom was still as an unmarked grave.

Abernathy reacted first and with his hands away from his body, slowly stood. Dobey Drew his weapon, and Starsky and Bussell followed suit.

“What is this? Some kind of joke?” Abernathy looked from Dobey’s snub-nosed .38, dwarfed in Dobey’s big hand, to the face of his boss.

“There aren’t words to express how unfunny I think this is, Bud. Put your shield and your service revolver on the desk and back away,” Dobey said grimly.

“You, too, Grimes,” Starsky said.

“Tillman, join the party,” Steve echoed the order.

Tillman took a step back but made no move to obey the order to disarm. “Now, don’t do anything stupid, kid. I don’t have a baseball bat handy… so I guess I’d just have to shoot your ass.” Steve’s voice was like liquid steel and it sent a shiver down Starsky’s spine.

Starsky covered Grimes as he took his gun out of its holster and laid it on the desk. “Your shield, too. You won’t be needing that, either,” Starsky snarled.

“Why are you doing this, Dobey? You don’t have anything on us,” Abernathy said, still making no move to comply with the order.

“Don’t say anything, Bud!” Grimes snapped. “I want a lawyer and a union rep called.”

“Yeah, I bet you do,” Starsky answered as he spun Grimes around and snapped the handcuffs on him.

“All this because the walkies failed? We’ve already explained that,” Abernathy said easing his hands down.

“Put your fuckin’ gun on the desk, Bud. I’m not playing around here,” Dobey ordered.

Abernathy reached to draw his suit coat aside, slowly reaching inside. Just at that moment, Tillman panicked and turned to run. Bussell yelled, “Don’t do it, stop or I’ll fire!” Steve took off a ta run after him, tackling the young man before he reached the door. The action drew Dobey and Starsky’s attention away for a fraction of a second and that was all the opportunity Abernathy needed. He went for his gun.

“Now, you drop it, nigger,” he snarled at Dobey. Starsky turned hearing the racial slur and pointed his weapon at Abernathy.

“Drop it, Bud, or I’ll shoot you right here. After what you did to Hutch, I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it,” Starsky spoke, his voice low and deadly.

Abernathy backed up slightly so he could cover both Starsky and Dobey with his weapon. “You lying cocksucker! You are one of them.” Abernathy gave an ugly laugh. “And I was fooled into thinking you were a real man.”

“Drop the gun,” Dobey barked.

“Fuck you! Fuck all of you…” Abernathy screamed, raising his gun to aim at Dobey.

A single shot rang out, echoing loudly in the stillness of the squadroom. Everyone froze: Dobey where he stood, Tillman, Bussell who was straddling the prone man putting on the handcuffs, Grimes, who had backed a few steps away from the desk, hands cuffed behind him, and Starsky, his gun-hand still, the muzzle of the automatic slightly smoking.

Abernathy turned toward Starsky, opening his mouth as if to speak, but no words came. As if in a slow motion movie, Wild Bunch style, he slowly fell forward against his desk. The spreading red stain on his shirt dead center was the only testament to why.

Bussell stood and pulled Tillman up with him. With a nod at Starsky he pushed the young man out the door, another detective in the squadroom holding it open for them to pass. Starsky pulled Grimes away from the wall and shoved him toward the door and the other detective standing there. “Take him to booking, please, Jack. I’ll be right there.”

The detective nodded and grasped Grimes’ elbow as he escorted him away.

“He’d have shot you, Captain. I haven’t a doubt in my mind,” Starsky said, meeting his superior’s eyes squarely.

“I know…” Dobey answered quietly. “He’s been under my command for over three years now. You’d think growing up with segregation I’d have better instincts about a bigot, wouldn’t you?” Dobey looked at Abernathy’s dead body with sadness.

“You’re too good a man, Captain. You don’t automatically think the worst about anyone. That’s the difference between you and him,” Starsky answered, sliding his gun back in its holster. “Nothing to regret, sir. Not where he’s concerned.” Starsky looked once more with contempt at the officer he had just killed and slowly left the squadroom to take care of business.

It was over in less than an hour. There was a background buzz of hushed conversation all over the station Starsky was peripherally aware of. That buzz would quickly spread through the entire building, he was sure. He walked back to the squadroom, stepping over chalk marks and fragments of yellow tape to get to his desk. Bussell stood there just hanging up the phone.

“My, my, my… but haven’t you been a busy boy this morning. Does Hutch know yet?”

“No. It’ll be a while before the others are ready for questioning and if they confess, Hutch won’t have to try to do a voice recognition ID at all. I’d like to keep him out of it as much as possible. He’s already given his deposition before he came home from the hospital. I don’t know that seeing or hearing them would do a whole lot more than increase his stress.” Starsky fixed Steve with a hard stare. “He doesn’t need that right now.”

“Yeah…” Steve said, then fell silent for a few seconds. “Try to get him to talk to somebody…” Steve offered sincerely. “All of this coming on top of what he went through when you got shot… nobody could handle all of that without a melt down.” Steve turned to go, patting Starsky on the shoulder as he passed. He turned back with a small grin. “I’m no threat to you, I know we both know that. Take care of him, that’s all I’m saying. He wants to be a rock, especially for you… take care he doesn’t crumble.”

“I will,” Starsky answered solemnly. His mind flitted to the mental image he had been fighting for weeks… Steve and Hutch together. With crystal clarity he saw it in his mind’s eye and he let it fade away. Gone… finally and forgotten… thereby forgiven. He watched Steve walk out of the squadroom, then turned to pick up the phone on his desk just as Dobey approached.

“Why don’t you give Hutch a call from my office,” he suggested. “It’ll be more private.” Starsky nodded his appreciation and followed after the big man. “It’s your arrest…both Heckling and the other two,” Dobey said. “Bussell officially is on medical retirement, he just hadn’t gotten to turn in his shield and gun yet. I’ve already called IA. They’ll be down probably before the ink’s dry on Grimes and Tillman’s fingerprints. They’ll sit in on the interrogation along with a union representative. You can give your statement to the stenographer while we’re waiting. Bussell has gone to give his now.”

“Okay.”

“Starsky, I think it’d be better if I did the interrogation. It might be a little easier for me to ask the questions and hear the answers. I’m not doubting that you’d be professional…but anybody has limits to what they can hear about someone they care about.” Dobey put his hand on Starsky’s shoulder and gave it a fatherly squeeze. “I’m not saying I don’t trust you but my mother taught me to insure my own success, and I sure as hell don’t want to have to read you your rights because you punched one of their faces in.”

Starsky gave a short laugh and felt his own face redden. “Thanks, Cap’n, in this case I don’t minda bit.” Starsky patted Dobey’s arm and hesitantly reached for the phone. He punched an outside line and dialed the number, grateful when he saw out of the comer of his eye Dobey’s silent exit from the office. He knows.

 

Chapter 13

It was several days later and Starsky entered the dark apartment quietly not wanting to disturb Hutch if he was sleeping. He eased his hand along the right wall until he came to the opening for the bathroom and found the light switch. Flipping it on bathed the main area in a muted light. Starsky was surprised to see Hutch standing at the greenhouse door.

“You’re awake.” Starsky felt a little foolish stating the obvious. He approached the silent man. As he passed the kitchen table he noticed some change lying there. Not randomly scattered as if Hutch had emptied his pockets, but methodically laid out by denominations in a straight line.

“What’s this with the money?” he asked pausing at the table.

Hutch slowly turned. “Ever watch Ben Casey?”

“Huh?” Starsky was caught off guard and confused.

“I used to watch it when I was a kid. He was a strong man, you know? Principled… his mentor was Dr. Zorba. He was an old wrinkled, wizened man about as big as one of Ben Casey’s biceps. I remember one show where they were discussing the worth of a man.”

“Yeah?” Starsky encouraged when Hutch fell silent.

“It’s ninety-eight cents. So many grams of iron, copper, zinc… adds up to ninety-eight cents worth of minerals. Not very much, huh?”

“Is that why you laid out the change?”

Hutch glanced back at the line of coins on the table. “I’ve just been trying to make some sense of it. Why cops… brothers-in-arms, co-workers who took the same oath we did. To protect and serve… why they’d consider me a worthless commodity. Maybe they saw the same show, huh? Anybody can throw away less than a buck.”

Starsky crossed the short distance between them with long strides, taking his lover in his arms.

“Oh, baby, this isn’t about you being worthless. You’re a good man, a righteous man, who is beautiful inside and out. It’s about them having sick warped minds. It’s their ugliness, Hutch. They’re the ones who have no worth. Not to themselves, this job, or society. They don’t represent cops in general, you’ve got to know that. Tillman was using all that hot air and bravado to hide what he was feeling inside but was too much of a coward to face. Jail isn’t going to be easy on him. Abernathy was crazy, it got him killed and Grimes has a Nazi mentality. He’ll be put away for so long that at his age, it’ll be a life sentence.”

“It’s a life sentence for Steve, too. He didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

“No, he didn’t. But he knew what the risks were when he pinned on the badge. We all do. It goes with the territory.”

“I feel bad for him,” Hutch said.

“I do, too. A few more weeks with one of us and he’d have made a pretty fair detective,” Starsky said.

Hutch smiled the smile Starsky had been hoping for as he pulled a little out of Starsky’s tight embrace.

“Steve will be fine!” Starsky answered. “He let me read a couple of the chapters in that book he’s writing. It’s good. He could be another Joseph Loenbraugh.”

“Joseph Wambaugh,” Hutch corrected.

“Next time you want to know what you’re worth,” Starsky offered softly, “ask me, I’ll tell you.” Starsky rested his lips against Hutch’s cheek and neck, softly placing loving kisses there.

“Oh yeah? How much?”

“Priceless…let’s go to bed and I’ll show you.”

Starsky turned, reaching for Hutch’s hand. “Make love to me, Hutch,” Starsky made therequest knowing what the offer would mean to the man in front of him. All things forgiven and truly forgotten, at long last. With arms around each other’s waists they entered the shadowed sleeping alcove. Starsky stripped quickly out of his clothes while Hutch turned on the bedside radio.

As the two men tangled arms and legs in a gentle embrace, the soft guitar music from the radio filled the room.

 

“Leave a light on, to light my way home,
Leave a light on to shine on the streets below.
And say a prayer for me, so everyone will know
And say a prayer for everyone on the streets below.
Now in this moment of weakness, I come to you
Seeking a place where love can last forever.
Now in this time of darkness, we will be as one
In a place where love will last forever…”

 

Epilogue

Starsky pulled his car behind Hutch’s on the street in front of Venice Place. Good. You’re home, Starsky thought as he grabbed the bags of groceries off the front seat and ran up the stairs. Kicking his distinctive knock against Hutch’s front door he juggled the bags and waited. The door opened and his lover stood in the threshold. “Don’t just stand there, get one,” Starsky said as his grip on one of the bags was slipping.

“What’s all this?” Hutch asked, grabbing for the bag in the most danger.

“I said I’d bring stuff and we’d barbecue, don’t you remember? We never had the celebration we’d always talked about when I got cleared to go back to work, so we’re going to make it a double-header.” Starsky pushed past Hutch to put his bag down on the sink top. Maybe you don’t think you’ve got anything to celebrate. “So how was your last day of freedom?” Starsky asked.

“Okay, I did some laundry, saw the shrink… How was yours?”

“I took Olson to lunch. I let him pick the place. God, his choice in restaurants is worse than yours! I told him it was good working with him these past nine weeks…”Starsky chuckled. “Like he believed me. He said he appreciated the chance to work with me, but he knew I could hardly wait until I got my partner back.” Starsky busied himself opening the packages of steak and washing the huge baking potatoes for the grill. “I’m starved… want to get the coals going?”

“Sure,” Hutch’s reply wasn’t very enthusiastic but he went out to the greenhouse area to do as requested. Out of the comer of his eye, Starsky watched as he went. It had been a rough nine weeks. Hutch’s physical healing had progressed well, but the emotional wounds, though hidden, seemed the more resistant to treatment. Putting the meat on a platter and wrapping foil around the potatoes, Starsky laid it all on the kitchen table. He glanced at the various papers there, some unopened mail, Hutch’s release form to full duty and another page partially covered by the others with Hutch’s distinctive handwriting on it. Starsky picked it up to read the words with guitar chords written over them. Hutch had spent a lot of his solitary time playing his guitar and writing music. This one was dated today.

 

Patchwork curtains, paisley, tweed and rose
A flowing stained glass sewn by you
Patch work curtains, morning of our lives
And there you are
Bringing us our day
in a cup

 

Starsky felt Hutch’s return from outside and looked up to see his lover. “This is beautiful… you need to finish it and play it for me.”

Hutch took the page and placed it on top of the refrigerator without comment “What does the word patchwork make you think of, Starsk?” Hutch asked.

“Pieces of things, like the words in that song… portions of our lives, the people in it, our experiences. It’s all sewn together to make a beautiful whole…” Starsky stopped when Hutch began to smile, then laugh. “What?”

“You,” Hutch answered, no longer laughing but his smile still broad.

“Why, did I miss something?”

“No, not at all. You’re right, and your description is so…you.”

“Why’s that?” Starsky asked, still not sure if Hutch was making fun of him.

Hutch turned to face Starsky more squarely and was serious. “Remember in that alley outside the porn studio when we were looking for the guy who poisoned you? Our window of time was at the halfway point. Remember what you said?”

“Yeah, I think so…the part about half empty or half full? Yeah, I remember.” What I remember most was how badly I hurt all over and how good it felt for you to hold me like that, not caring who walked by. I don’t think up to that point in my life I’d ever been held so tight.

“You’re the optimist, life’s cup is always half full to you. Like a patchwork is pretty Pieces fitting together to make it even prettier.”

“What is it to you, Hutch?” Starsky asked, feeling butterflies of fearful anticipation of the answer.

“Fragments… Things that were whole once that are broken, now…patched together…”

Starsky walked a step closer, taking Hutch’s face between his hands. “Is that how you feel?”

“Sometimes…”

“I like to think of us as a patchwork, too. Pieces of you and me, together making a whole that’s better than the fabric of either of us alone… or apart.” Starsky searched Hutch’s face. “There’s plenty of stitches between us, that’s for sure,” he said lightening the mood.

Hutch smiled as he grunted his agreement. “Coals’ll be hot in about fifteen minutes.”

“Want a beer?” Starsky asked, heading over to the refrigerator to get his own.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Starsky brought over two bottles. Handing one to Hutch, he clinked the bottom of the bottles in a toast. “To getting my partner back…” Starsky said.

“Such as he is…” Hutch said, then drank several swallows.

“Babe,” Starsky started, his own beer untouched. “If you don’t think you’re ready…tell them!”

“I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be, Starsk. I’m… .I’m just…” Hutch turned away, picking up the platter of meat and taking a few steps toward the sliding glass door.

Oh, no you don’t! “Just what?” Starsky stopped him. “Talk to me…now. Don’t wait until it all blows up in our faces tomorrow.”

“I’m scared. I’m scared all the time and I hate it!” Hutch’s voice cracked like heat lightning.

“I know,” Starsky offered calmly. “I felt like that, too. Everybody coming around to say welcome back… but then you’d catch them staring at you like what they were really thinking is: have you still got it?”

“Yeah…yeah.” Hutch looked at him like Starsky’d just discovered a cure for cancer. “That’s exactly how I feel.”

“It goes away, babe. I swear to God, everyday it gets a little bit better.”

Hutch looked at the waiting grill and back to Starsky’s face. The hunger Starsky saw there had little to do with the food he held. God, I haven’t seen that look in so long, Starsky thought, feeling his heartbeat accelerate, and all the blood it pumped was going straight to his groin.

“We can put the spuds on the very top rack and let ’em cook real slow. They’re the size of a small cat, anyway…” Starsky let his voice trail off as he ran his hand down Hutch’s back. “I’ve got more charcoal to make the fire hotter in a little while for the steaks…” Hutch agreed with a lustful smile.

Starsky hurried to the grill, lifting the lid and grabbing at the foil packages to toss them in. Hutch set the platter down on the edge of the grill’s tray and threw a kitchen towel over the meat. As soon as Hutch’s hands were empty they were all over Starsky, dragging him into a tight embrace.

The two men stumbled inside, fumbling clothes away between desperate kisses and groping hands, until they reached the bed and tumbled, finally naked, into it.

Hutch was the aggressor that he hadn’t been in a long time. His tongue plundered Starsky’s mouth, then kissing, sucking and biting, he worked down Starsky’s neck and shoulders. With strong arms Hutch rolled, taking Starsky with him. “Make love to me…” Hutch spoke not taking his lips off Starsky’s to form the words. “I need to be full of you,” Hutch groaned.

Starsky prayed Hutch hadn’t noticed the split-second when Starsky froze at hearing the plea. Hutch hadn’t been willing to be penetrated in any way since his attack. During their lovemaking, he wiggled away from even the slightest touch there.

Starsky kissed back, matching the frantic ardor, while stretching his arm enough to feel for the drawer in the nightstand and the K-Y they kept in it. Starsky straddled Hutch’s thighs, taking deep and hopefully calming breaths. “How do you want it?” Starsky asked, his voice quivering a little. “You want to turn over?”

“No!” Hutch’s answer came quickly. “Like this. I need to see your face.”

“Okay, like this is good. We’ll take it real slow… you can tell me if I…”

“I will,” Hutch interrupted. “Go on… do it!”

Starsky leaned forward to kiss down Hutch’s chest and belly, walking backward on his knees until his mouth was even with the bobbing erection at Hutch’s groin. He licked up and down the hard shaft, then captured the head, sucking hard. Above him Hutch stiffened in the exquisite torture. Hutch flexed both knees to give Starsky better access. Starsky squirted out some K-Y and liberally coated his fingers before he probed gently for Hutch’s center. Starsky circled the pucker and began pressing very slowly and gently inside as his other hand and mouth worked on Hutch’s cock. One finger slid in easily and Hutch pushed down against it, urging it deeper. Starsky could taste the pre-cum. He withdrew his finger and returned with two easing them in as carefully as before. Hutch was eagerly receiving.

“Come… on…you. I need to feel you! Fuck me!”

Starsky refused to be hurried, sliding his fingers in and out as Hutch moved wildly on them. Starsky felt his fingers brush over the nub of Hutch’s prostate and Hutch’s entire body bucked “God, Starsk, please…”

Not sure whose body was trembling the hardest, Starsky removed his hand. Squirting out a large dollop of K-Y, he thickly coated his straining erection and got ready to position it at Hutch’s hole. Hutch lifted both legs… his hands grasping them behind his knees, opening himself to Starsky… wider, completely vulnerable and yielding.

Starsky placed the head of his cock at his lover’s opening and rocked forward. The tissue was tight in spite of the preparation Starsky had given it, partially due to the scar tissue from Hutch’s injury and the long surgery to repair the damage, and partially because it had been almost three months since Starsky had been inside him.

Starsky wanted to close his eyes and savor the tight velvet heat he was sliding into, but forced his eyes to stay open and on Hutch’s face. He needed to know the instant it became too much. No such signal came. Hutch’s erection stayed solid and, aside from an intermittent tensing that Starsky recognized immediately so he could stop and give Hutch time to stretch and adjust, he slowly sank into the hilt inside his lover’s ass. Once there he leaned forward resting his weight on his hands and began raining kisses over Hutch’s face.

“Oh God, babe. You feel so good… so hot I’m afraid to move, I’ll shoot my wad and it’ll be all over. Oh, oh…God, Hutch, I love you so damn much.”

Hutch released his legs to lock his ankles over Starsky’s back, his hands clawing frantically at Starsky’s shoulders, urging him closer, deeper… “Move…God, Starsky, please, move. Let me feel you.”

“God, Hutch… I can’t… No, not yet… .ohhhhh shit, I’m…commmminnnggg…” His voice ended in a hoarse scream as he felt like his very soul erupted out his cock to empty everything he was deeply inside his partner.

“Oh. My. God!! Starsky…” Hutch’s voice sounded loudly next to his ear and he felt the shuddering spasms rock the body under him, the hot wetness shooting up between them where their bodies joined.

Starsky eased out of Hutch’s body, slowly and carefully, but even as he did so, he heard Hutch utter a moan with a slightly different timbre than the ones normally associated with passion. He rolled to the side getting one of the wash cloths they kept in the bedside table with the K-Y. He pushed Hutch’s knees back and up so in the lamplight he could be sure everything was all right down there. The rag came away with only the slightest tinge of pink on it after cleaning them both off.

“I’m fine,” Hutch said with conviction before Starsky had a chance to ask.

Starsky looked up at his partner’s flushed face, seeing a contentment that hadn’t been there in months.

“Can you walk?” Hutch asked.

“Yeah… why? What’s the matter?” Starsky asked, feeling a growing alarm.

“Go get our beers., after a climax like that my legs feel like two wet noodles.”

“Oh, oh… yeah… be right back.” Starsky half-staggered off the bed and returned with the two lukewarm beer bottles. Handing Hutch his, Starsky waited.

“Now, that toast,” Hutch said, scooting up to rest his back against the headboard.

“To my partner,” Starsky began, amazed that he could talk around the lump in his throat.

“Me and Thee, Forever.”

They touched bottles gently and drank to their world returning to normal.