We Don’t Say Goodbye

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Starsky suffers terrible tragedy, and his partner is there for him.

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Chapter One

So this is who I am
And this is all I know
And I must choose to live
For all that I can give
The spark that makes the power grow
“Immortality” by Barry, Robin and Maurice Gibb

 

Huggy refilled Hutch’s beer mug and set it in front of him. “What’s the big mystery, anyway?” he asked. “And what the hell’s keeping your partner?”

Hutch shrugged and glanced at his watch for the third time. “You got me. All I know is Starsky said for us to meet him here tonight at ten. And here we are. But no Starsky–” he broke off as the door opened and Starsky breezed in, half an hour late and beaming from ear to ear.

He sat down on the stool next to Hutch, close enough their shoulders were touching, and patted the top of the bar. “This round’s on me,” he said, tossing a companionable arm around Hutch and giving him a brief hug. “Congratulate me, gentlemen. I’m gettin’ married.”

Huggy clutched the edge of the bar for support and stared at Starsky as if he’d never seen him before. Hutch stared, too.

“Lydia?”

“Who else?” Starsky demanded, his grin getting wider. “I just asked her, and she just said yes.”

“So what the hell are you doing here?” Hutch demanded, staggered but unable to resist the temptation to tease Starsky a little. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating with your lady?”

“Already did,” Starsky said, picking up Hutch’s beer and downing a huge swallow. “She’s gotta get up early, so I took off. Had to tell you guys the news.”

Hutch and Huggy exchanged a glance.

“Wow,” Hutch finally said. Then a wide grin appeared and he unashamedly threw his arms around Starsky and gave him a bear hug. “Congratulations, buddy. That’s terrific.”

Huggy grinned, too, finally getting his bearings again. “I’ll be damned, Starsky. You lucky bastard. She’s a real find. Too bad she’s gettin’ stuck with you, though.” He pretended to dodge a blow, but Starsky was too happy to even play along.

Instead, he just sat there and beamed at both of them. “You’re right. I’m the one who’s gettin’ the best of the deal, and she knows it, too. But she loves me anyway.”

“Hey, maybe if you get right to work, Huggy and I’ll be uncles in nine months,” Hutch teased.

Starsky stood, straightened his jacket and gave a saucy grin. “Seven months.” He started to walk away, but Hutch wasn’t about to allow that. He reached out and grabbed Starsky’s sleeve just in time to yank him back.

“What was that, pal?”

Starsky tried to dim the wattage of his grin, but it just couldn’t be done. He finally gave up. “I said it’s only gonna be seven months. She’s pregnant. She just found out a few days ago.”

“Starsk, you’re not getting married just because of that, are you? That’s never a good idea–” Hutch began.

“I was gonna ask her anyway, buddy. And she didn’t even tell me she was pregnant until after I asked,” Starsky said.

Hutch relaxed.

With another wicked grin, Starsky added, “Can’t accuse me of shooting blanks, anyway, can ya?”

Hutch dissolved into laughter, as did Huggy, and Hutch made Starsky sit back down for a celebratory drink.

That one drink turned into several and by the time all was said and done, neither Starsky nor Hutch was in any shape to drive. Huggy had long ago locked the door and stumbled upstairs to his apartment there, and finally, arms around each other for support, Starsky and Hutch followed. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d crashed on Huggy’s carpet.

Huggy blissfully slept crosswise on the bed, on top of the covers, still wearing his shoes. Hutch made it as far as the armchair before his knees gave way, and Starsky simply plopped onto the floor, tugging ineffectually at his Adidas.

“Here. I’ll help you,” Hutch said, bending over and almost taking a header onto the floor. Starsky grinned and propped one foot on Hutch’s knee so Hutch could unlace his sneaker for him, switching feet to let him get at the other one. Adidas and jacket off, Starsky stretched out on his back and folded his arms behind his head.

After long moments of silence while Starsky examined the ceiling, he finally said, “Hutch, I been thinkin’.”

“It’s always good to try new things,” Hutch said with a wicked grin, still trying to get his own shoes off.

Starsky smiled at the joke, but didn’t answer it as he normally would have. Instead, his eyes grew serious as he sat up and looked at Hutch, and he said, “Something’s worryin’ me.”

Hearing that note in Starsky’s voice, Hutch’s expression grew serious, too, and he slid down on the floor to lie next to Starsky with his head propped on his hand. “What?”

“Nah, it’s crazy.”

“Starsk, if it’s worrying you, you need to talk about it.”

Starsky sighed and looked down at his crossed legs, playing idly with the ragged hem of his jeans. After several moments of this, he finally said, “You ever notice how, every time I fall in love with a lady, something happens to her?”

The “jinx.” I should have known.

They’d talked about it before. Neither of them seemed able to sustain a serious relationship. Hutch blamed the job. But Starsky…blamed himself. Not in so many words. Not so Hutch could refute it. But Hutch knew, just the same. Starsky, the superstitious one, the one who wore garlic to fend off vampires, believed there was something about him that put the women he loved in danger or drove them away. Helen. Terry. Rosey.

“Starsk,” Hutch began, but he wasn’t sure what to say that would convince Starsky. “Buddy,” he said, trying again, “Lydia loves you. I can see that. And you love her. And there’s a baby on the way. Nothing’s going to go wrong. You’re going to get married and live happily ever after and I’m gonna spoil all six of your kids so rotten you’re gonna hate me for it.”

Starsky grinned, a little unwillingly, and said, “Six? Ain’t ya jumpin’ the gun there a little, Hutch?”

Hutch smiled back and reached out a hand to lay it over Starsky’s arm. “You’re going to be a terrific dad, buddy. That’s a lucky baby, to have you for a father.”

Starsky reddened a little. “I am pretty excited about that,” he admitted. “I mean, if it hadn’t happened this way, I’d’a wanted to wait a while, you know? Till we had time to settle in and get used to bein’ married. But since it did….” He got a little redder, and mumbled something too low for Hutch to hear.

“What was that?” Hutch asked.

“I bought a teddy bear for the baby today,” Starsky repeated, a little louder, not meeting Hutch’s eyes. “A white one. Like Ollie. I kinda…I hope it’s a girl. I could spoil a little girl and hug her and stuff without bein’ embarrassed. A boy might not want me to do that….”

Hutch smiled again to hide the burning in his eyes. “You old softie,” he accused affectionately. “Any son of yours would be as warm-hearted as you are and he wouldn’t mind his old Dad givin’ him an occasional hug any more than I mind it when you hug me.”

Starsky finally looked up and his eyes were a little bright, too. “But you and me are different, Hutch. We got somethin’ special. I–” he stopped suddenly and turned his body so he was facing his partner. “I hope that don’t change just ’cause I’m married.”

“It won’t,” Hutch assured him, but he had a sinking feeling it would. Oh, they’d still be best friends. Partners. Forever. He’d always be welcome at Starsky’s house. He’d still see him every day, or most days, anyway.

But that constant companionship would be gone. It’d have to be. No more late night drunks. No more camping trips or vacations together. Starsky would be needed at home. He’d have a wife, a child, responsibilities they didn’t have now. Hutch couldn’t call him at 3 a.m. anymore when he couldn’t sleep. And Starsky wouldn’t call him at 3 a.m., either. If Starsky couldn’t sleep, he’d have a wife lying next to him to chase away the nightmares. He wouldn’t need Hutch anymore….

“Hey,” Starsky said quietly. “I don’t know how you ever manage to fool anybody undercover, buddy, because every thought shows on your face like a neon sign. You’re thinkin’ we won’t be the same after I get married. That I won’t need you as much. Aren’t you?”

No point in lying. Starsky could read him like a book. Hutch didn’t even try. “Well, you won’t, Starsk. You know it’s true.”

“Hutch,” Starsky said, leaning forward and fixing Hutch with a very straight look, “I’ll never not need you, buddy. You’re the best friend I ever had. I owe you my life dozens of times over. My sanity, too. And besides all that, I just plain like havin’ you around. Lydia even said, and I quote,” he grinned a little, “‘If you and Hutch don’t spend enough time together, you get as grouchy as an old grizzly bear. So don’t go thinking you gotta spend all your time with me, got that, buster?'”

Hutch laughed aloud.

“I think that’s why she chased me outta there tonight with that crap about needin’ to get up early,” Starsky went on. “She knew I was just bustin’ to tell you and Hug–but mostly you–that we were gettin’ married.” He paused for a moment, his eyes still fixed on Hutch. “Will you be my best man?”

“Aw, Starsk,” Hutch’s eyes filled, but he blinked the moisture away. “Of course I will.”

 

Chapter Two

Saturday night, Starsky brought Lydia with him to Huggy’s where Hutch was glumly drinking a beer–alone–because his date for the night had come down with the flu and had to cancel. They were going to double with Starsky and Lydia and go to dinner and a movie, but Hutch felt like a fifth wheel without a date. When he saw the two of them come in, he tried frantically to think of a way to bow out of the evening gracefully.

Lydia came straight to him and dropped a kiss on his cheek. “Where’s Sandi?”

“Flu,” Hutch said, putting an arm around her waist and returning the kiss.

“Damn.” Lydia looked at Starsky. “You got any old girlfriends hanging around loose you could lend your buddy, here?”

Starsky shook his head, eyes dancing. “Nope. Threw out my little black book when I met you, darlin’. Besides, they all had better taste than that.”

Lydia gave him a playful swat on the behind. “Creep. Any girl in her right mind would love to date Hutch. Look at him.” She put her hand under his chin and tipped up his face–although, even with him sitting on a bar stool, she was just barely above eye level with him–and she smiled at him. “He’s adorable. He’s handsome. He’s talented. Oh, Hutch!” Lydia stopped suddenly and put both hands on his shoulders. “Hutch, honey, dear, would you do something for me?”

“You want me to rescue you from having to marry my intrepid partner?” Hutch inquired with a grin.

She shook her head. “Try again.”

“You want me to date your cousin who isn’t much to look at but has a ‘nice personality’?”

She laughed. “No.”

“I give up.”

“I want you to sing at our wedding.”

Hutch’s heart gave a leap–he suffered from a severe case of stage fright, though he loved to sing. “Lydia, I–”

“Please, Hutch! Oh, it would be so sweet! Please? Pretty please?”

If I can’t say no to her, Hutch thought with a rueful grin, how the hell will Starsky ever be able to? “Okay, Lydia. You don’t have to beg. What do you want me to sing?”

Lydia beamed at him. “What a good boy you are. Thank you. I’ve always dreamed of having ‘Annie’s Song’ at my wedding. And yes, David agreed to it, and we’ll talk the rabbi into it somehow. Would you sing that?”

Hutch gave a barely-perceptible sigh of relief. He’d been a little afraid she’d choose some horribly difficult song and his voice would crack. But he could sing “Annie’s Song” all right. In fact, he could do a pretty good job with that one. “Sure, sweetheart. I’ll sing that for you. Both of you,” he added with a grin at his partner.

They decided to skip the movie and have dinner at Huggy’s. While they were waiting for their steaks, Starsky challenged one of the regulars to a game of pool, leaving Hutch alone with Lydia. She didn’t have much interest in pool and Hutch found it easy to get her talking about the wedding plans. He enjoyed watching the excitement on her face as she talked about all the little details like her flowers and her bridesmaids, things that Starsky would probably know nothing about. But then, Starsky didn’t have a sister, and Hutch remembered his own sister’s wedding well. He’d been pressed into service more than once as an “impartial” judge of which veil went with which dress and whether roses or carnations were better suited to the bride’s bouquet.

But Lydia soon wound down and leaned forward, propping her chin in her hands and gazing at Hutch. “I want to talk to you, Hutch.”

“Uh-oh,” he teased gently. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

She smiled. “Silly. I want to be sure you understand something.”

“Okay. What?”

“I don’t want to take David away from you,” she said, her eyes growing serious. “I know how close you two are. I know how much you depend on each other. And I know what a White Knight you are, too. You won’t call if you need him, or come over as much as you want to, because you’ll think you’re intruding. I’m right, aren’t I?”

Hutch wondered if his face really did betray his every thought, the way Starsky had said, or if Starsky had told her something.

“David didn’t put me up to this,” she said sternly, sensing his mood. “I told him I wanted the two of you to spend as much time together as you want. Not just at work. Any time you want. You come over any time you want. You crash on our couch any time you want. Go off and do ‘guy stuff’ together. I don’t want to monopolize him. Or own him. Part of what I love about him is you, Hutch. The two of you together. It’s special, and I don’t want to be the reason that changes.”

“Lydia, you’re something else,” he said.

She grinned. “Thanks. So are you. So, do you promise? You won’t be a White Knight?”

“I promise. But you have to promise me something, too.”

She looked a little surprised, but she nodded. “Sure. What?”

“Be good to him,” Hutch said. “Take care of him. Love him.”

Her eyes softened, and she reached across the table to take Hutch’s hands in hers. “I promise.”

“Hey,” Starsky’s voice said teasingly from behind Lydia. “You movin’ in on my girl, partner?”

Lydia turned her head to smile saucily at him. “We’re just having a little talk, David. Go away until we’re finished.”

Starsky shook his head at Hutch. “You hear that? We’re not even married yet, and she’s already givin’ me orders.”

Hutch laughed. “Face it, buddy. She’s going to be the boss.”

“That’s okay,” Starsky said, leaning over to kiss the top of Lydia’s head. “I can think of worse things that could happen to me.” She smiled up at him and he reached out to pull her to her feet. “But I can’t let my partner monopolize your time, schweetheart,” Starsky went on with a grin. “Come on. Dance with me. Hutch, play somethin’ sappy on the juke, would ya?”

Hutch grinned–and obeyed. He leaned against the bar and watched as Starsky pulled Lydia close, clowning and doing his “Ramon” character at first. But as the song played on, Lydia rested her cheek on his shoulder and he laid his against her hair and closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around her and cradling her against himself like a precious treasure.

 

Chapter Three

Hutch knew Starsky and Lydia were paying for their own wedding, and that it was a strain on their finances, especially with a baby on the way. Lydia’s parents were retired–she’d been a change-of-life baby–and couldn’t afford to help. And Starsky was the one who sent money to his mom, not the other way around.

So, for a wedding present, Hutch dipped into his carefully hoarded savings and bought plane tickets for a weekend honeymoon in San Diego and booked a romantic suite in the nicest hotel for them for two nights. He wished he could send them to Hawaii or Cancun, but on a cop’s salary….

But Lydia’s reaction when he told them what he’d done was as ecstatic as if he’d lassoed the moon for them. She clasped her hands over his, tears brimming in her dark eyes, and threw her arms around him in a bear hug. “You darling! You old softie! You shouldn’t have.” She drew back and tried to look stern. “We can’t allow you to–”

“It’s too late,” Hutch said, putting one arm around her and the other around Starsky. “I already did it. It’s the least I can do for my best buddy and his girl. And my soon-to-be nephew or niece,” he added teasingly, letting go of Starsky so he could gently touch Lydia’s still-flat midsection.

She blushed.

Starsky didn’t say anything at all, but he didn’t have to. His eyes met Hutch’s, and the look in them was all the thanks Hutch wanted.

The night before the wedding, Starsky was so nervous he trembled. Hutch took him in hand and stayed with him to keep him from drinking too much–or not enough. Huggy had arranged a bachelor party for him at The Pits, and a couple dozen of their fellow officers were in attendance. But no strippers or other scantily-clad women. Starsky had been adamant.

“It wouldn’t be right, Hutch,” he said. “Not with Lydia carryin’ our baby and all. I wanna be a good husband and a good dad. And I want to stand under that canopy tomorrow with a clear conscience, watching my wife come down the aisle.”

Hutch blinked back the moisture that sprang to his eyes and lifted his beer mug to clink it against Starsky’s. “You will be, buddy. You’ll be the best.”

But by the end of the evening, when Starsky was feeling the liquor, he really began to have an attack of nerves. Most of their fellow cops had gone by then, and Huggy’s was emptying out. Huggy was in the back, restocking his coolers, and Hutch and Starsky were sitting in a booth near the back.

“Hutch.”

Hutch looked up from his beer to see stark, staring terror in his partner’s eyes. He understood it–he’d felt the same way before marrying Vanessa, and with good reason as it turned out–but he wasn’t about to let Starsky’s wedding jitters overcome him.

“Hutch, I’m scared,” Starsky said. “I can’t do it. I can’t go through with it.” He was actually pale and sweating.

Hutch suppressed the grin that threatened, and instead reached over to put a hand over his partner’s. “Starsk, take it easy. It doesn’t hurt. You’ll live through it. I promise.”

“You don’t understand, Hutch! I don’t know nothin’ about bein’ married or raising a kid or….”

“Yes, I do understand, buddy. It’s natural. I’ll bet Lydia’s scared, too. It’s a big step. But it’s the right step, Starsky. She loves you. You love her. Don’t you?”

He nodded, and a little of the terror left his eyes. “Oh, yeah. I sure do.”

“Well, then, buddy. It’ll be okay. It’s no different from living with somebody, except it’s permanent. It’s legal,” he smiled a little, “and remember the baby? You want to run out on your baby?”

“No,” Starsky said firmly, and a little more terror left his eyes.

“I’ll be right beside you every minute. You’re gonna be okay. I promise. You’re gonna be okay.”

 

Chapter Four

Hutch watched as Starsky buttoned his ruffled tuxedo shirt with shaking hands. His own tuxedo was already on, including his tie, but Starsky was taking a long time to get ready. Outside the door, Hutch could hear the voices of the friends and family gathering for the wedding, but inside this anteroom it was deathly silent.

Finally, Starsky reached for his bow tie and looked down at it helplessly.

“Here, I’ll do it,” Hutch said, rising to go over to his partner and slide the tie under his shirt collar. Starsky helpfully tipped up his chin, and Hutch quickly tied it for him, making sure it was straight. “All done,” he said, giving Starsky a pat on the shoulder.

Starsky put the vest on, then the dark blue jacket. Lydia had asked both of them to wear dark blue tuxes, and her bridesmaids were wearing dark blue dresses.

“You both look so yummy in blue,” she’d said with a wicked twinkle in her eyes.

Both men had blushed scarlet, but of course, they’d agreed.

Finally, Starsky faced the mirror and examined himself.

“You clean up pretty good,” Hutch teased.

Starsky smiled at him. “Is it normal to be terrified? Are you sure?”

“It’s normal,” Hutch assured him.

Starsky ran a brush over his thick, curly hair. His hands were still shaking, Hutch noticed. On the table lay two white yarmulkes, one for each of them. Starsky reached for one of them and settled it on his curls. Amazingly, it stayed put. Hutch had wondered about that.

“Your turn,” Starsky said, backing away from the mirror.

“I never wore one of these before,” Hutch said, trying to figure out what to do with it. Starsky had made it look so easy.

“I’ll help ya,” Starsky said, taking it from him, smoothing the blond hair with one hand first, then placing it on his partner’s head and peeking over Hutch’s shoulder into the mirror to make sure it looked right from the front. “There ya go, Blondie. You’ll fit right in.”

Hutch laughed. “I’ll bet.” He reached down and picked up the carefully folded prayer shawl. It had belonged to Starsky’s father and grandfather before him. His mother had put it away after Starsky’s bar mitzvah and had kept it for him, to give to him on his wedding day.

Starsky glanced at it, then lifted his eyes to Hutch’s. They stood silently for a moment, eyes locked, then Hutch shook the shawl out and gently laid it over Starsky’s shoulders, straightening out the ends so they were even.

“I think you’re ready to go, buddy,” Hutch said softly.

“Oh, God, Hutch, I’m so scared.”

Hutch wrapped his arms around him and held him tight for a moment. “You’re gonna be okay, babe,” he whispered into his partner’s ear. “Lydia’s waiting.”

Starsky held on almost desperately tight, trembling, before drawing a long breath and loosening his hold. “Thanks,” he said gratefully. “I’m all right now.”

Hutch patted his shoulder and turned him toward the door. “Let’s go.” But, as Starsky took a step, Hutch said, “Starsk?”

Starsky turned.

“I love you.”

Starsky smiled, a slow, easy grin. “I love you, too, Blintz.”

~~~

Neither of them had seen Lydia’s dress until the moment she emerged, surrounded by her bridesmaids, to join Starsky under the canopy. She was exquisite, in a white satin gown with puffy sleeves and shiny little pearls swirling around the bodice. The pearls also ran down the sleeves, which ended in points at her wrists, and her filmy veil rested on her chestnut hair like a cloud. She carried a bouquet of white roses and blue carnations. She took Hutch’s breath away, and he wondered how Starsky must feel. He tore his gaze from Lydia to look at his partner, and Starsky’s eyes were starry with love. Hutch smiled at the sight. Then his eyes traveled down and he realized Starsky had forgotten to put on his dress shoes. He still wore his beloved blue Adidas. Hutch suppressed a snicker. It was pure Starsk. And appropriate, somehow. Besides, the tux was blue. At least he was color-coordinated.

Starsky’s mother noticed the Adidas at approximately the same instant and her eyes met Hutch’s in a moment of shared amusement and fond understanding.

But Starsky and Lydia were oblivious to everything but each other. The rabbi read softly from the wedding service in the reverent hush that filled the synagogue, broken only by an occasional sniffle from one of the mothers, Hutch wasn’t sure which. He couldn’t look away from the bride and groom. He’d never been prouder of his buddy, or loved him more, than he did at this moment. And his heart easily opened wide enough to admit Lydia, too. God bless her, he thought. Anybody that puts a look like that on Starsky’s face…. She’d made Starsky happy. And that was good enough for Hutch.

The rabbi was up to the vows. “Lydia Ruth Geisler, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband…?”

“I do.”

“David Michael Starsky, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife…?”

Starsky’s voice shook, but it was emotion, not nerves, as he said, “I do.”

The rabbi paused after the vows and glanced at Hutch.

He wasn’t sure his voice would obey him at this point, but he turned and took his guitar from Huggy, who was standing by looking immaculate, as always, in his tux. Slipping the strap over his shoulder and strumming it once to make sure it was still in tune, Hutch gently played John Denver’s ode to his wife, Annie:

“You fill up my senses like a night in a forest
Like the mountains in springtime
Like a walk in the rain
Like a storm in the desert
Like a sleepy blue ocean
You fill up my senses
Come fill me again
Come, let me love you
Let me give my life to you
Let me drown in your laughter
Let me die in your arms
Let me lay down beside you
Let me always be with you
Come let me love you
Come love me again.”

His voice was steady most of the way through, but he was relieved to finish before he broke down completely. He handed the guitar back to Huggy, who passed it on to someone else.

The rabbi smiled at the couple in front of him and held out the glass of wine. Both drank from it, then he wrapped it in a white cloth and laid it on the floor in front of Starsky. Hutch offered a steadying arm as Starsky raised his foot and stomped the glass into smithereens.

A cheer went up from the watching friends and family, and cries of “Mazeltov!” rang out as everyone gathered around to congratulate and kiss the bride and groom.

Starsky’s mother was beaming from ear to ear, but there were also tears in her eyes as she kissed first Lydia, then her son. “He’s a good boy,” Rachel Starsky said to Lydia. “He’ll be a good husband. And if he isn’t, you call Ken and tell on him, and he’ll straighten him out for you.”

Lydia laughed and slipped her free arm through Hutch’s. “I’ll remember that.” She smiled up at Hutch, and he leaned down and kissed her forehead.

“You look absolutely beautiful,” he told her.

“Thank you. So do you,” she added wickedly.

Now that the ceremony was over, Starsky had regained a little of his equilibrium, but he was still too pale.

“Was it that bad?” Hutch asked in a low voice, arm around his buddy’s shoulders as Lydia talked to some of her cousins.

“I can’t believe it, Hutch,” Starsky said, eyes still wide with wonder. “I’m married. Me and Lydia are married.”

“How about that?” Hutch remarked with a grin. He hugged Starsky with the arm that was still around him. “Told you you’d live through it.”

 

Chapter Five

“Hey, Hutch, can you unhand my brother long enough for me to congratulate him?” said Nick’s voice from behind them. Nick gave Starsky a couple of slaps on the back. “I’ll be damned, David,” Nick said. “You really went and did it. You got married. Maybe now Ma’ll quit harping at me to find a wife and give her some grandkids. It’s your job. You’re the oldest.”

Starsky colored slightly, but kept quiet. He and Lydia had agreed not to tell anybody just yet that there was a baby coming. They wanted today to be just about them, without complications.

“Watch your language, little brother,” Starsky said instead, flashing a grin. “What would Ma say if she heard you cussing in synagogue?”

“Oops,” Nick said, but his eyes twinkled unrepentantly.

“I’ll tell you what she’d say,” Rachel said, having walked up without their noticing. “You’re not too big to spank, Nicholas Marvin Starsky, even if you are taller than I am.” But she smiled at him.

“Uh-oh,” Nick said, pretending to be terrified. “I’m gonna split and go kiss my new sister before she makes good on that threat.” He left and infiltrated the crowd around Lydia.

“Well, I’ve got one of my boys married off,” Rachel said, putting her arm around Starsky. “One down and two to go.”

“Two?” Hutch said, puzzled.

“You and Nick,” she said, smiling at him. “You’re my boy, too, you know. So when are we going to dance at your wedding, Ken?”

“I think it’ll be a while,” he said. “We all have to recover from Starsk’s before we can even think about going through this again.”

~~~

There was a great deal of dancing at the reception in the synagogue basement. A towering wedding cake, made by Edith Dobey, dominated a table at one end. A band was set up at the other end. In between, Lydia’s enormous extended family mixed with Starsky’s few relatives and fellow cops, light hearts making everyone willing to joke and smile with little provocation. The police photographer sneaked around taking pictures of everyone and everything, and at one point, he said to Hutch, “You know, this is what I really wanted to do when I was in school.”

“What? Photograph Starsky’s wedding?” Hutch asked with an innocent face.

McDermott laughed. “Yeah, sort of. I wanted to be the kind of photographer that goes to weddings and christenings and takes family portraits and senior pictures. Instead, I’m the guy who takes photos of dead bodies and crime scenes. Funny how things work out.”

“Yeah, it is,” Hutch said thoughtfully, watching as Starsky twirled his bride around the floor. She smiled up into his face, and his eyes were shining down at her. The sight brought a little bit of a lump to Hutch’s throat. When had he ever seen Starsky look like that?

But, as he watched Lydia and Starsky dance, he felt a mixture of feelings and emotions he couldn’t quite understand. He was high with anticipation and love for these two people. He watched them dancing and he smiled at them…he was so happy for Starsky…but inside, for a moment, something else touched him. A thought of long ago, when he was young. Sailing on his parents’ boat…and watching his parents with his sister, the daughter they adored and who never disappointed them. And he wondered, what would happen if the boat sank? What if he and his sister and his mother were all drowning? Who would his father swim to first?

He always felt, first his mother, then his sister…not that his father did not care, not that anyone did not care…but who would instantly want to save him first?

Certainly not Vanessa. His mind flashed to his deceased ex-wife…would Van have swum to him first? Her memory seemed more bitter now than sweet. Van had been Van. And Van always had come first.

He had never felt “first” in anyone’s life. He had never felt that significant…that needed…that important…that special…until that day Starsky walked into his life. That dark, curly headed, blue-eyed buddy of his that came walking, no…came bouncing into his life one day. And that was when it happened. Hutch didn’t know it at the time, but he knew it now…here was finally someone who, if he were drowning…would swim to him first.

Hutch thought about all of the people in his life he had loved…and he had, he thought, loved them. But never anyone like Starsky. Not ever. Because they were partners, because they lived through moments that no one else on earth would understand but them…because no other two people on the planet knew what it was like to be them, together…because this friendship that was so intense and so unbelievably beautiful…was real.

Hutch allowed that feeling to touch him and for a moment, wished he could never let go of it. But he had to let go. It would always be beautiful, it would always be real and it would always, always exist. But it was going to change now, it had already changed. Hutch looked out upon the dance floor and hoped no one noticed the sadness that surely hinted in his eyes for a moment. There was Starsk, over the moon and looking at Lydia in a way that….

And Hutch knew…he knew. Lydia was the one Starsk would swim to first now…it was only right. It was the way it had to be. And that was the way Hutch would expect and want it to be from now on.

Who’ll swim to me first now? Hutch thought, embarrassed at the silly thought that held him silently for a moment. Then he smiled. He had to be happy, he had to be proud, he had to be grateful. He had years and years of being first in Starsky’s life. Starsky had swum out to rescue him over and over and over, how many times?

How many people ever have someone love them that much? And no matter what, the memory of that love would forever remain a part of Hutch’s soul. Just as Starsky would.

Then Hutch cut in and took his turn dancing with Lydia. She was flushed with excitement, and her dark eyes twinkled up at Hutch as she took a firm grip of his shoulder and hand.

“Hutch, this is the happiest day of my life so far,” she told him.

“Mine, too, honey,” he said gently. “You’ve made my partner a happy man, and I thank you for that.”

“Oh, Hutch.” Her eyes softened. “I’m the lucky one. David’s a wonderful man. I can’t believe he loves me.”

“I can.” Hutch danced in silence for a moment, then added, “Remember your promise to me?”

“Yes.” She looked up into his eyes. “And you remember yours to me?”

“Yes.”

Chapter Six

Once everyone had run out of steam and sat down to rest a while, Hutch stood up, lifted his glass and said, “I think it’s time the best man gave the traditional toast to the bride and groom.”

Silence instantly prevailed, and Hutch paused. He’d spent over an hour, late last night, composing what he was going to say, and he didn’t want to blow it. He looked at Starsky and Lydia, sitting there holding hands and looking so happy, and he smiled at them.

“Lydia, I want to tell you something about my partner you might not realize. He’s the most important person in the world to me. His happiness is my happiness. When he hurts, I hurt. I love him, Lydia. We’ve been through a lot together. And there were times I never thought either of us would live to see a day this happy. Thank you. You’ve given him this day.

“And, buddy, I want you to know how grateful I am to you for your friendship and your love. You’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I know. You deserve this and I’m thrilled for you, babe. Here’s to at least 100 years of wedded bliss! Here’s to David and Lydia!”

There were tears standing in Hutch’s eyes by this time–and in Lydia’s and Starsky’s–but everyone smiled and drank to the newlyweds. Hutch leaned down and kissed Lydia’s cheek, then Starsky’s, and gratefully sat down to compose himself.

But Starsky leaned over and whispered, “I love you, too, buddy.”

Starsky and Lydia had changed and collected their luggage and now they moved around the room quickly, saying goodbye and getting another round of kisses and hugs, before stopping at Hutch. He was going to give them a ride to the Long Beach airport, where they would catch a commuter flight to San Diego.

It was raining lightly as they came out of the synagogue, and Hutch frowned up at the sky. “Where the hell did this come from? They forecasted clear skies and 80 degrees tonight.”

“They were wrong,” Starsky said with a grin. “So what’s new about that? Come on, buddy, we don’t have much time.”

Hutch lifted their bags into the trunk, slammed the lid, and held the door open for Lydia to sit between him and Starsky in the front seat. They were taking the Torino to the airport, partly because Starsky had jokingly refused to let his bride ride in “that piece of shit of yours” and partly because Hutch was going to keep an eye on the Torino while Starsky was gone. It began to rain harder, until Hutch had to turn the wipers on high so he could see to drive.

“I don’t like this, Starsk,” he said as he pulled into the airport parking lot. “This isn’t good flying weather at all.”

Starsky didn’t reply until they were inside and had checked the departure schedule. Their plane was still taking off on time. “There, ya see?” Starsky said to Hutch. “If it was too bad to fly, they’d have said so, wouldn’t they?”

“I guess,” Hutch said, a little unwillingly. His cop instincts were all on edge, but he tried to shake that off. It was only rain, after all. He glanced at the other passengers, wondering if he’d seen someone threatening and hadn’t realized it. But they were mostly families, some business traveler types. No one who could have set off his inner alarm.

You’re just feeling left out, Hutchinson. That’s all it is.

They called for passengers to board the plane, and Hutch gave Lydia a tight hug and another kiss on the forehead. “Have a wonderful time,” he said to her.

“We will,” she said, touching his cheek gently. “Thank you, Hutch.” She drew a little away as if she sensed Hutch needed a moment alone with Starsky.

Starsky and Hutch simply gazed at each other for a moment, before Hutch pulled his buddy into a hug and swallowed to steady his voice. “Goodbye, Starsk.”

Starsky pulled back a little and looked into his eyes. “We don’t say ‘goodbye,’ babe. I’ll see you Tuesday. Okay?”

Hutch pulled him against him again, having seen a little shadow of worry in those expressive eyes. “Okay. Go have a terrific time and enjoy your lady.”

Hutch watched as they went through the doors and boarded the plane. He waited as the plane lifted off and disappeared into the darkness.

But he wondered why he felt so bereft as that plane took his best friend away to his honeymoon.

Because that’s the best part of you flying off into the darkness…and he’s leaving you behind.

When he got back to the synagogue, the party was still in full swing and showed no sign of abating. It wasn’t long before one of Lydia’s cousins had Hutch on the floor dancing, and Hutch finally managed to relax and have a couple of beers to loosen up. Huggy egged him on as the cousin–Hutch thought her name was Naomi, but he wasn’t sure–tried to teach him the Charleston. It was getting into the wee small hours and Hutch was getting a little tipsy, so he didn’t really notice when the telephone on the wall rang. Someone answered it and listened, then gestured to Captain Dobey. He walked over to join her, and that’s what finally got Hutch’s attention. He stopped dancing and watched his captain.

Dobey listened also, then raised his eyes to Hutch’s. And the look in them made Hutch’s blood run cold.

He ran across the room, dodging dancers. “What is it?”

“That was Cal,” Dobey said. “We left the number here in case he or Rosie needed us. Hutch, there’s been an accident.”

Huggy sensed something was wrong and stopped the band. The rest of the guests gathered around to listen. Where a moment before there had been laughter and music, now there was dead silence as the group waited.

Heart pounding and adrenaline rushing, Hutch fastened his eyes on his captain’s face and said, “What is it, Captain?”

“It was the plane, Hutch. The plane…the plane crashed.”

“Oh, my God,” Rachel Starsky said with a gasp.

Hutch slid an arm around her automatically. “How bad is it?” he asked unsteadily.

“There are some survivors, but most of the passengers,” Dobey paused and swallowed, “didn’t make it.”

Rachel’s shoulders were shaking with sobs, and Hutch pulled her a little closer before asking, “Starsky?”

“They haven’t identified any of them yet,” Dobey said.

Without another word, Hutch turned and headed for the door, snagging his jacket from the chair where he’d left it.

“Hutch, wait!” Huggy ran to catch up. “You don’t even know where it crashed, Hutch!”

“Off I-5, between Mission Viejo and San Juan Capistrano,” Dobey supplied. “In a field east of the interstate.”

Hutch was almost out the door, desperate, his heart in his throat, and Huggy caught up and grabbed his arm. “We’ll take my car, and I’m driving,” Huggy said. “You’re in no condition.”

Hutch nodded wordlessly, and the two of them ran through the pouring rain to Huggy’s Caddy.

 

Chapter Seven

In the time it took to reach the crash site, the news had time to slowly sink in, and Hutch was in a panic before they ever got there. And when he saw the fire engines, the flashing lights of rescue vehicles, and the triage set up under hastily-erected canopies, he couldn’t help it; a sob of grief and fear escaped him.

“Easy, Hutch,” Huggy said, though his voice shook, too. “We’ll find him. He’s okay. He’s gotta be.”

They ran into the confusion, dodging emergency workers and stretchers, hearing the moans of the injured, looking for someone who seemed to be in charge. Hutch spotted a man with a clipboard and made a beeline for him, followed by Huggy.

“David Starsky?” Hutch asked, grabbing the man’s arm.

“No, I’m….”

“Not you! I’m looking for David Starsky! He was on that plane!” Hutch shouted.

“We haven’t identified everyone yet,” the man said, his tone sympathetic. He consulted his clipboard. “He’s not here. He may still be–” he gestured toward the wreckage, scattered over the field. One large piece of fuselage, broken wings, bits and pieces of airplane all over the field, lit up by the lights of the fire trucks and ambulances parked everywhere.

Hutch ran, barely taking time to glance at bodies on the ground, all of them dead or dying. He didn’t see Starsky among them and kept running. Huggy stuck with him, both of them getting soaked and muddy in the marshy field. When they reached the piece of fuselage, an EMT grabbed Hutch’s arm and halted his mad dash.

“Wait, don’t go any further.”

“My partner’s here somewhere!” Hutch said desperately. “I gotta find him!”

The man glanced at Huggy, then back at Hutch. “Sir, one of the men was….” He took a long breath and went on gently, “He was decapitated. You don’t want to see that.”

Hutch produced his badge and shoved it in the man’s face. “I’m a cop, goddammit! I gotta find my partner!” Then what the man had said sank in and Hutch’s face went white. “De–decapitated?” His knees gave way, and if Huggy hadn’t grabbed his arm and held him up, he’d have gone down. But Huggy held on tight, sliding an arm around his waist. “No, no, no,” Hutch said, his voice choked. “My God….”

“We haven’t identified him,” the EMT said.

“It’s not Starsky,” Huggy said firmly.

“You don’t know that!” Hutch snapped, his eyes full of tears, with the rain soaking his hair and running down his face.

“If one of you could look at him,” the EMT said, a bit unwillingly, “we could be sure.”

Hutch raised his eyes to the man, stricken, then looked at Huggy. “I can’t….”

Huggy wet his lips and patted Hutch’s back. “I’ll do it.” He made sure Hutch was steady enough to stand alone, then followed the EMT around the side of the plane. Hutch closed his eyes and waited. In a moment, Huggy was back. “It’s not him,” he called as soon as he could see Hutch.

“Thank God,” Hutch said fervently, and his knees trembled again, but Huggy put his arm back around his waist.

“Come on, Hutch. We gotta keep looking.”

Hutch nodded and drew a deep breath. He had to get it together. He had to find Starsky. He couldn’t break down. Not now. Not yet. Not until…they knew something.

They dodged emergency workers, looking at every face, seeing more death and dying and horrendous injuries in that quarter hour than either of them had seen in their whole lives. More than once, Hutch had to swallow back bile as he looked into the face of some poor suffering soul with a severed leg…or a half-torn-off ear…and one woman, not much more than a girl, with a gaping wound in her abdomen.

They heard the voices of the rescuers: “Green!” “Red!” “Yellow!”

“What do they mean?” Huggy asked.

Hutch blinked back tears at the sight of a little boy about two, curled up as if in sleep and still clutching a muddy teddy bear, dead. “They’re doing triage, Hug. Green means somebody who can wait. Red means somebody who needs attention right now. Yellow’s in between. And–” he broke off as a voice called bleakly, “Black!” and finished, “Black means they’re dead.”

Huggy swallowed hard. “We’ll find him, Hutch. And he’ll be okay. He’s gotta be.”

In the dark and confusion it was difficult to see, but Hutch knew he’d recognize Starsky the moment he found him–no matter what condition he was in.

“Yellow!” yelled a voice almost right beside them, making Hutch jump, and he whirled to look at the victim.

“Oh, my God,” he said softly, stunned. It was Lydia. Her face was covered with blood and mud and rain soaked her clothes, but she was alive. He fell to his knees beside her, and the EMT who was planting a yellow flag next to her glanced at him.

“Do you know her? Can you identify her?”

“Yes,” Hutch said, his voice shaking. “Her name’s Lydia Geis…Starsky. Lydia Starsky.”

The EMT consulted the passenger list on his clipboard and made a checkmark next to her name. Hutch could see Starsky’s name above hers and there was no checkmark beside it.

“Lydia? Honey, can you hear me?” Hutch took her hand and touched her cheek, but there was no response. She moaned a little and her eyes fluttered, but she couldn’t speak. “Lydia, it’s Hutch, honey. We’re getting help for you. You’re gonna be okay,” Hutch said desperately, praying it was true.

“Don’t move her,” the EMT cautioned, getting up to go on.

“I won’t,” Hutch said, still holding her hand. “Lydia, listen to me. You’re gonna be okay.”

Her eyes fluttered again, and she tried to focus on him. “Hu….”

“Yes, sweetheart, it’s Hutch. And Huggy. Help is coming, okay? You’re gonna be okay,” Hutch said, tears running down his cheeks and mixing with the falling rain. But Lydia had lost consciousness again and didn’t respond.

“Move aside, please,” said a voice behind him as two rescue workers dropped a backboard on the ground beside Lydia and loaded her onto it. They were in too much of a hurry to be gentle as they strapped her down and lifted the board to carry her to a waiting ambulance.

“Careful! She’s pregnant!” Hutch said, letting go of her hand unwillingly.

“Okay, man, take it easy. Make a note of that,” one of them said. “This one’s pregnant.”

The EMT who had planted the flag yanked it out of the ground again and made another note on his clipboard. As the other two left with Lydia, he turned to go on to the next victim, leaving Hutch and Huggy to keep looking.

“Starsky can’t be far away, they were sitting together,” Hutch said. He plowed on through the mud, Huggy right next to him. And in a few minutes, they found him. He, too, had a yellow flag next to him.

“Starsky!” Hutch threw himself down into the mud next to Starsky and gently wiped mud and blood off his buddy’s face. “Can you hear me, babe? Are you okay?”

Starsky moaned, half in and half out, but his eyes opened, glazed and unfocused. “Hutch?”

“You’re hurt, buddy, but it’s gonna be okay,” Hutch said, trying to smile and look confident, but the cloudiness of Starsky’s eyes, the way they wouldn’t focus and wouldn’t hold still, scared him all the way to the core of his being.

Starsky blinked and winced. He swallowed and tried to speak, but he couldn’t. His hand moved as he tried to reach for Hutch, and Hutch captured it and held it in both of his, against his chest.

“I’m right here, babe. I won’t leave you. It’s okay, buddy, it’s okay.” Tears were falling freely down Hutch’s cheeks now, and Huggy knelt beside him, arm around his shoulders, one hand squeezing his shoulder comfortingly.

“Hutch…” Starsky moaned again and tried to wet his lips. “Hutch, it…hurts. I’m cold….”

Hutch let go of Starsky’s hand and stripped off his tuxedo jacket, laying it over his partner. “There you are, buddy. Is that better? They’re gonna come get you in just a second, babe, hang on, okay?”

Starsky coughed and a look of such pain crossed his face that Hutch felt it, too. “It hurts….”

“I know, babe, I know,” Hutch said, his voice so choked with tears he could hardly get the words out.

Finally, the rescue workers came for Starsky, loading him onto a backboard and securing his head and neck.

“His name’s David Starsky,” Hutch told them, and they noted it down. He watched as they took his partner away and loaded him into a waiting ambulance. They were taking him to Mission Viejo. Hutch grabbed Huggy’s arm and hauled him back to the car.

When they arrived at the emergency room, it was chaos. The plane crash had overwhelmed the night crew and nobody had any time to answer questions. About half the survivors had been brought here. The rest had been dispersed to other hospitals in the area. But Hutch was relentless, and finally managed to corner the harried nurse at the information desk, demanding information on Starsky and Lydia.

She sorted through forms scattered on her desk and finally found Lydia. When she raised her eyes, they were very sober. “Are you a member of the family?”

“Her brother-in-law,” Hutch said without batting an eye. “David Starsky–her husband–is my brother.”

“Your name, sir?”

“Ken Hutchinson.”

She looked at him, head to one side, and Hutch realized he’d goofed. But he was a desperate man, and this wasn’t going to stop him.

“David Starsky is my brother, dammit!” he said with the glare that Huggy knew so well. Nobody he’d ever met had enough nerve to cross Hutch when he got that look on his face. This nurse was no exception.

She nodded. “Mrs. Starsky is in ICU, Mr. Hutchinson.”

 

Chapter Eight

Hutch stared at her blankly, and Huggy choked back a gasp, putting an arm around Hutch. “She’s…she’s dying?” Hutch finally said, his voice shaking.

“You’ll have to talk to the doctor, sir. I’m sorry. I don’t know any more than that.”

“Oh, God.” Hutch ran a hand over his face and looked at Huggy.

“I don’t see Mr. Starsky here yet, sir,” the nurse said. “We apparently don’t have his paperwork yet. Why don’t you go see your sister-in-law and try again in a little while? We should have more information then.”

Hutch nodded dumbly and backed away. Huggy gently steered him to the elevator and took him up to ICU. The blank, terrified look on Hutch’s face scared Huggy. He looked so lost, so helpless….

It was Huggy who asked for Lydia when they got to ICU, and the duty nurse directed them to her room. Huggy again steered Hutch down the hall to the glass-fronted room, where Lydia lay, as pale as the sheets she lay on, with tubes and wires all over her. Hutch froze in the doorway and stared at her, tears dropping onto his cheeks.

But he took a deep breath and went forward, carefully picking up Lydia’s limp hand and sitting down next to her bed. “Lydia? Can you hear me, honey? It’s Hutch.”

Her eyes opened and slowly turned toward him. She tried to smile. “Hu…utch,” she said, so softly and weakly he almost didn’t hear her.

“I’m right here, honey. So is Huggy.”

Her eyes moved toward Huggy, standing next to Hutch, and he gently touched her cheek. “Hi, Lydia.”

“Hu…Hutch…David….”

“He’s fine, honey,” Hutch lied smoothly. “He’s on another floor, though. But he’s gonna be okay.”

Huggy glanced at him, but didn’t change his expression. He knew why Hutch was lying to her.

She closed her eyes and didn’t speak again, while Hutch stroked her hand. Finally, he turned to Huggy. “Let’s go find Starsky.”

Some of the chaos in the emergency room had dissipated by the time they returned. The same nurse was still at the information desk, and this time when Hutch asked for David Starsky, she had the paperwork.

“He’s being treated,” she said, reading from the forms. “If you’ll wait in the family room, someone will come and tell you when you can see him.”

It was an eternity. Huggy found coffee for them, and Dobey brought Starsky’s mother and Nick after Huggy had called to tell him where they were. But Hutch sat as though in a trance, numb, waiting.

The doctor came in two hours later, still in his scrubs, and looked around the room, unsure who was family and who wasn’t. Hutch stood and helped Rachel to her feet, putting his arm around her shoulders. “H–how is he?” Hutch asked.

“His back is injured,” the doctor began without preliminaries. “Nothing was broken, but he landed pretty hard and there was some injury to the spinal cord.”

Rachel drew a sharp breath.

“I don’t think it’s permanent,” the doctor assured her. “He’ll have to have therapy to regain full use of his legs, and it’ll be a while, but I’m almost certain he’ll be back to normal eventually.” He paused a moment. “He also suffered some lacerations, most of them basically superficial. He has a concussion and some internal bleeding, but we got that under control. Considering what I’ve seen tonight…,” he paused again and ran a weary hand over his eyes, “David’s very lucky.”

Rachel broke away from Hutch and took the doctor’s hands. “Thank you, doctor. How’s my daughter-in-law? Lydia?”

He rubbed at his eyes again. “I’m sorry, I don’t know. But I can ask someone to find out for you. I’ll send someone in as soon as I find out, or come myself.”

“Can we see him?” Hutch asked quietly.

“One at a time, and only for a few minutes,” the doctor said. “He’s still unconscious, and we’re going to keep him that way for a day or two because when he wakes up, he’s going to be in a lot of pain. We want him to have a chance to heal, and he can’t do that as well if he’s fighting against pain.” He nodded at them all impartially and left the room.

“Go ahead, Rachel,” Hutch said. But she shook her head.

“No, Ken. You go first.”

He kissed her cheek and left to see Starsky.

He hadn’t noticed the cuts and bruises on Starsky’s face in the field because of the darkness and the mud. He sat down in the chair next to the bed and took Starsky’s hand. “It’s me, buddy,” he whispered. “We just talked to the doc and he says you’re gonna be okay. Oh, God, Starsk…,” he dropped his forehead onto their clasped hands, “I’m so sorry.”

By the time he composed himself and returned to the waiting room, the doctor had sent a nurse in who was explaining Lydia’s condition to Rachel, Nick and Lydia’s parents, who had also arrived.

“The baby’s all right,” the nurse was saying as Hutch entered. “At least we’re still getting a heartbeat….”

“Baby?” Rachel said at the same moment Lydia’s mother said it.

Hutch intervened, putting an arm around Rachel. “Lydia’s pregnant,” he said gently. “They wanted to keep it a secret until after the honeymoon.”

“How far along is she?” Rachel demanded, her voice shaking.

“About three and a half months, maybe a little more,” Hutch said.

“Oh, God. Oh, my God.” Mrs. Geisler covered her mouth with her hands.

“The baby seems to be all right,” the nurse said soothingly. “Although Lydia did suffer a great deal of trauma, and we won’t know anything for sure for a few days. I think we can at least be hopeful.”

The nurse patted both mothers on the arm and left. Rachel immediately turned to Hutch. “A baby? Why didn’t Davy tell me? I’m his mother!”

“They wanted to wait until after the wedding,” Hutch said gently. “They didn’t want their wedding to seem…hurried. They wanted to concentrate on being a couple before announcing they were going to be a family. They were going to tell you–and you,” he added to Mrs. Geisler, “as soon as they got back from,” his voice shook a little, “their honeymoon.”

Rachel nodded, and even managed a wan smile. “And Davy can’t keep anything from you, can he, Ken?”

Hutch smiled a little, too. “Nope.”

Huggy left with Captain Dobey, pressing his car keys into Hutch’s hand. “I know you won’t leave until you’re sure Starsk can be left alone,” Huggy said with an understanding grin, “so you keep my car. Just don’t drive it like he does.” Hutch accepted the keys, gave Huggy a brief hug, and watched him go. Next to Starsky, he valued Huggy’s friendship most of all. Always there. Always willing to help.

Lydia’s parents went up to ICU to see her, leaving Hutch alone with Rachel and Nick. They made a brief visit to Starsky’s room, but Rachel came back so pale and shaken that Hutch insisted on taking her back to her hotel in Los Angeles. She had been mercifully spared seeing Starsky hurt before this–and God knew, although Hutch had seen him in hospital beds before, shot, poisoned and even dying, it didn’t get any easier. He could only imagine how hard it was to see your child like that, no matter if he was a grown man.

She was quiet most of the way back, and the drive was a long and bleak one. Hutch kept his peace, too. He pulled Huggy’s Caddy up to the hotel door and put it in Park. Without a word, Nick got out and opened the door for his mother.

Before getting out herself, Rachel put a hand on Hutch’s arm. “You get some dry clothes on before you go back to the hospital, okay?”

He didn’t ask how she knew he was going straight back to Mission Viejo. He simply nodded. “Okay, Mom.”

She smiled, kissed his cheek, and went into the hotel. Hutch glanced down at his damp, soiled tuxedo and gave a rueful grimace. The cleaning bill–if it could even be cleaned–was going to be enormous. He turned the Caddy toward Venice Place.

Two hours later, he was back in that same waiting room, alone this time, showered and dressed in jeans and a sweater. Hospitals were always so cold. Or was it just that he felt cold in them, because so far it had never been good news he was waiting for?

Once every hour, he made a trip first to Lydia’s room, then to Starsky’s. Neither of them had regained consciousness by the time the sun came up. But Lydia’s pallor was so much worse than Starsky’s, her breathing so much more labored. Hutch was frightened for both of them, but he knew his partner. He was tough. He’d survived Gunther. Bellamy. Marcos. He had to survive this, too….

But Lydia was more delicate. He stood by her bedside as the first rays of sunlight peeked through the curtains, holding her hand, and looking down at her white face. She seemed to have lost weight, even though he knew that was impossible. But her thin hand lying so limply in his seemed almost porcelain in its fragility. The blankets tucked around her body showed the slight swelling at her abdomen, the first sign he’d noticed of her pregnancy.

You gotta make it, Lydia. For Starsky. For the baby.

He stayed with her until the nurse shooed him out, then he went to Starsky’s room. Starsky was still out, too, but his color had improved, and he at least appeared to be sleeping naturally. Hutch pulled a chair up close to the bed and sat down. For a while, he just watched Starsky sleep, gently stroking his arm where it lay near him.

 

Chapter Nine

A couple of days later, the doctor tried a new procedure he called “ultrasound” on Lydia, to check the condition of the baby. Hutch went with her, at her request, to the examining room.

Lydia was still in so much pain and so weak she couldn’t even grasp his hand, but he held onto hers anyway as the technician moved the scanner over her abdomen. And her eyes never left the screen. Hutch was open-mouthed with wonder, and even Lydia managed a smile at the sight.

“She seems to be fine,” the technician said.

“She?” Hutch asked.

“You can tell, sometimes, if the baby’s willing to cooperate,” the technician said, pointing at the screen. “See there? That’s a girl baby.”

“A girl…,” Lydia said slowly. “David said he hoped it would be a girl.” She looked up at Hutch, her face still so pale that her eyes were like dark pools. “Will you…will you tell him, Hutch?”

“Of course I will,” Hutch promised.

But Starsky hadn’t regained consciousness by the end of the day. The doctor told Hutch and Rachel that he’d stopped the drugs to keep Starsky out and he should be waking up naturally by now. What he didn’t add, but Hutch thought with a sinking heart, was that this was a very, very bad sign.

Which worried him almost as much was Lydia’s condition. True, she was conscious, but her pallor had become even more pronounced these last couple of days. She no longer tried to talk; it tired her too much. And she was so weak she couldn’t even attempt to squeeze back when Hutch held her hand.

Her parents had become shadows of themselves. They could see it, too. Lydia was getting worse. Rapidly, visibly worse. The doctor only shook his head.

“The injuries were quite severe,” he told Hutch privately, out of hearing of both the Geislers and Rachel. “She hemorrhaged quite a bit in the emergency room. And the baby is taking whatever nutrition we can get into her. It’s nature’s way. I’m afraid,” he paused and glanced into Hutch’s eyes, “we may not be able to save her.”

“But why not?” Hutch demanded. For the moment, anger was the emotion uppermost in his heart, though he could feel the slow hopelessness of grief beginning to surface. “This is a goddamned hospital!”

The doctor didn’t take offense. He understood the signs. He shook his head again. “We can’t do miracles, Sergeant. I wish we could. But when the body suffers severe trauma–”

“What, exactly, is this severe trauma?” Hutch asked, a little more calmly.

“Internal bleeding. The placenta tried to detach,” the doctor said. “She was apparently ejected from her seat in the plane, and she hit the ground at about 60 miles per hour. And that’s a conservative estimate. Head injuries. Swelling of her brain. Her heart stopped on the examining table, Ken. We had one hell of a time getting it started again.”

Hutch trudged slowly upstairs again to sit at Lydia’s bedside and hold her limp, cold hand. She was sleeping, and her breaths were too shallow and slow. Hutch valiantly fought against the tears that threatened.

And then, her eyes opened. She turned them toward Hutch and saw the expression on his face before he could wipe it away. But by the look in her eyes, she already knew.

“I’m…not going to…make it…am I?” she whispered.

Hutch swallowed hard. “Lydia….”

“Don’t…,” she paused, drew a slow breath, and finished, “don’t lie to me, Hutch.”

Hutch couldn’t speak.

Lydia struggled to get her other hand over to lay it on top of Hutch’s. He helped, reaching for the hand and holding both of hers in both of his. “Promise me…something, okay?”

He nodded, not daring to trust his voice.

Tears formed in her eyes, and one escaped and rolled down her cheek into the pillow. Hutch gently wiped it away. She drew another long breath. “What I promised you….”

“I remember,” Hutch said, his voice shaking.

“Do that for me,” she said, imploring, her eyes fastened on Hutch’s face. “I don’t…want to leave…him. And…and our baby….” More tears fell, but Hutch was blinded by his own.

“I promise, Lydia. I promise.” Hutch bent his head and kissed her hands.

She closed her eyes again. “Love him…tell him….” The heart monitor quit beeping. Hutch sat, head bowed over their still-clasped hands, for several moments, barely even noticing when Huggy softly entered and laid a hand on his shoulder.

When Hutch finally raised his head, his face was wet with tears, and more were falling. “Oh, Huggy…she’s gone.”

“Hey, bro,” Huggy said quietly. “I’m right beside you, man.”

Hutch stood up at last, gently folded Lydia’s hands together, and bent down to kiss her forehead. He looked down at her for a long time, stroking her hair, before straightening his shoulders and turning to Huggy. “What the hell am I gonna tell Starsky?”

Telling Starsky wasn’t the most immediate concern, however. When Hutch and Huggy went back to the waiting room, they had to face the Geislers and Rachel.

“My God, what is it?” Rachel rose to meet Hutch, and he put his arms around her and rested his cheek against her hair, eyes closed. It was a few moments before he could speak.

“It’s Lydia…,” he began, but he couldn’t go on. He didn’t have to.

Mrs. Geisler gasped once and reached for her husband, sobbing against his shoulder. Rachel’s arms tightened around Hutch, and though she kept her face pressed against his shirt, he knew she was crying, too.

“Oh, Ken. That poor little girl,” she finally said in a muffled voice. “Oh, God.”

Chapter Ten

Hutch lost track of time while the necessary arrangements were made. Finally, the Geislers left, silent and pale. Huggy took Rachel back to her hotel. Hutch was finally alone, and he made his way to Starsky’s room on feet of lead.

All was quiet. Starsky was no longer hooked up to any equipment. He lay on his back in the hospital bed, eyes closed, breathing deep and naturally, but with no sign of waking up. Hutch pulled a chair closer, took his partner’s limp hand, and held it in both of his.

Oh, God, buddy. Look what I’ve done to you. I wanted to give you something special. I wanted you and Lydia to start off with a nice trip away from all the hell and bullshit we have to live in every day…and look what I gave you instead. Sleep while you can, babe. At least while you’re asleep you don’t hate me for this….

Nurses came in and out during that long night, checked Starsky’s pulse, took his blood pressure and temperature. No one asked Hutch to leave. And as those long hours passed and Hutch sat in the hard, unyielding chair holding Starsky’s hand, he waited for some flicker of awareness. He had to be the one to tell him. Not Huggy. Not Rachel. Him. He had caused this. And he would take responsibility like a man.

But he’d rather walk through fire.

He couldn’t get the memory of Lydia’s face out of his mind. All night, as he sat there, visions of her played through his brain as if on a movie screen. Lydia and Starsky dancing at Huggy’s. At their wedding. Starsky playfully poking ice cubes down the back of Lydia’s shirt one afternoon during a picnic at the park, and her squealing and then chasing him all the way into the duck pond and dunking him while Starsky spluttered and splashed and hollered, “Huuuuuuuuuutch!” But Hutch had been helpless with laughter on the bank. Lydia’s shy smile when Hutch congratulated her on being pregnant and her quiet, “Thank you, Hutch,” just before she’d kissed his cheek and squeezed his hand. Her radiance as she joined Starsky under the canopy at the wedding. The look in her eyes as Hutch had sung “Annie’s Song.”

He remembered when Starsky had first introduced them, that slow, proud grin as he’d said, “Lydia, this is my partner.” Hutch had felt a warm flush of pleasure at the way Starsky introduced him, and then, as he’d met Lydia’s eyes, a flash of recognition. He’d known instantly they’d be friends, too. She’d grinned up at him with those saucy hazel eyes of hers, accepted the hand he’d held out and said, “So this is Hutch? Yup, you’re everything David said you were. I thought he was lying.”

From that moment on, Lydia had been as natural a part of their lives as if she’d always been there. Hutch never felt constrained in her presence. He’d always been as comfortable with her as he was with Starsky. And she’d taken him straight to her heart. Once, at Huggy’s, when Starsky had left the table for one of his innumerable trips to the john, she’d leaned over and said confidentially, “I know why David loves you so much, Hutch.”

And he’d grinned a little, embarrassed, and said, “Why?”

“You two just go together. If the department had been stupid enough to partner you guys with somebody else, you’d have found your way together in the end anyway. You’re two halves of a whole.”

But the image he simply could not erase from his mind was her lying so pale and weak on that pillow, unable even to squeeze his hand, asking him to tell Starsky she loved him, asking him to take care of Starsky for her….

I killed her. I killed Lydia….

~~~

“He wake up yet?” Huggy’s soft voice asked behind him some hours after sunrise.

Hutch shook his head without turning around.

Huggy came closer and put a hand on Starsky’s shoulder. “Come on, m’man,” he said urgently. “You gotta come back to us.”

“Maybe it’s better this way,” Hutch said despondently. “This way, he doesn’t have to face what’s happened.”

Huggy turned to look at him in silence for a moment. “Hey, Hutch, that doesn’t sound like you, bro,” he said at last. “You almost sound like you don’t want him to come to.”

“I almost don’t,” Hutch said, his eyes on Starsky’s peaceful face, not looking at Huggy. “I can’t stand thinkin’ about how he’s going to feel….” He stopped.

“Hey, Hutch,” Huggy said, “come on. Man, you look whipped. You been sittin’ here all night? Come on and get a cup o’ coffee, huh? We’ll get some breakfast into you and you’ll feel a hell of a lot better.”

Hutch allowed Huggy to pull him to his feet and get him as far as the hallway.

But then, Huggy said, “Everything’s gonna be all right, Hutch, you’ll see.”

Hutch pulled violently away. “All right? All RIGHT? Don’t you get it, Huggy? What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

“Ssssh,” Huggy cautioned, eyes widening. He tried to get hold of Hutch’s arm again, but Hutch jerked it away.

“Nothing,” he hissed, more quietly but no less intensely, “is ever going to be all right again!”

“Hutch…,” Huggy said helplessly, “Man, I know you’re hurtin’, but Starsk’s gonna need you to be strong when he wakes up. And he is going to wake up. Just give him some time–”

Hutch spun on his heel, raised his fist to punch the wall, thought better of it and finally drove his fist into his open hand. “Huggy, it’s my fault!”

“No, it ain’t, man, what the hell are you talkin’ about? What’s your fault?”

“Don’t you understand?” Hutch demanded. “I killed Lydia! I killed the baby! I bought the tickets, Huggy, I bought the fuckin’ tickets!”

Huggy was stunned into silence. He stared at Hutch for several long moments, finally reaching out to take Hutch’s arm–and Hutch allowed him to, this time–and simply let his hand rest there for a few moments, lending his presence and strength.

Hutch kept his eyes on the floor. He didn’t want Huggy to see the tears he couldn’t quite hold back. When he thought he could trust his voice, he said, “That isn’t all, Hug.”

“What else?” Huggy asked quietly.

Hutch swallowed, blinked, and looked up. “I’ve been sitting there for days, and all night last night, just praying he’d wake up. I’m so scared he’ll–”

“You afraid he’s gonna die, too?” Huggy asked. “You afraid he ain’t gonna wake up?”

“No,” Hutch interrupted. “I’m afraid…he will.”

“What?” Huggy stared at him blankly.

Hutch sighed and leaned his hand against the wall, dropping his head on his arm wearily. “Huggy, don’t you see? Think about how he’s gonna feel when he wakes up, when I have to tell him his wife and baby are dead. After all he’s been through. After all we’ve both survived. This time it was supposed to be different. This time he was supposed to win….” Hutch’s voice failed and he stopped.

Huggy tried to put an arm across his shoulders to comfort him, but Hutch pulled away and all but ran down the hallway in the early-morning quiet. He needed to be alone. No, he needed Starsky…but Starsky was sleeping peacefully, not knowing what awaited him when he woke up, not knowing his best friend, his partner, the guy who was supposed to take a bullet for him if necessary…had been responsible for the deaths of his wife and unborn child.

What if he can’t forgive me? What if he hates me for this?

 

Chapter Eleven

But even in his dread of Starsky’s reaction to the news, Hutch couldn’t leave him alone for long. After walking around the hospital grounds for an hour to clear his head and get a grip on his emotions, Hutch returned to Starsky’s bedside and resumed his silent vigil.

He looked over at his sleeping partner and felt something he was almost afraid to admit, even to himself. Safe. He was “first” again, because of an unbearable loss suffered by his beloved best friend. Because of a cruel twist of fate, he was, once again, the most important person in Starsky’s life. But at what cost?

Lydia was gone, and with her, the baby she and Starsky had looked forward to with such anticipation and joy. Starsky’s dreams lay shattered around him, and Hutch shared that pain…he felt Starsky’s loss pierce his own soul, too…but with that pain, there was also relief, the feeling of having something back he’d thought was lost forever. Completeness.

Hutch was grateful that Starsky was asleep, because his partner could read him so well he’d have known what Hutch was thinking and feeling.

There was a tomorrow for them…but not for Lydia. She’d been so willing to share Starsky with Hutch, to allow him to be an integral part of their lives. Hutch admitted to himself that he had been less willing to share with her. But…he’d stepped away, he’d watched the door close on the part of his life where he and Starsky were “me and thee.” And now…it was open again. Now there were but two of them again…

Lydia, I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…but your promise is my promise. I’ll take care of him. I’ll love him. I’ll be there for him. I’ll honor your memory by loving him. This one last thing I can do, I can promise. He will be loved. Always.

The long, sleepless night…the days that had gone before…caught up with Hutch at last and he dozed. But something woke him.

He instinctively turned toward his partner and found a pair of very groggy blue eyes looking back at him. “Starsk, it’s me. Do you recognize me?”

Starsky tried to smile, but it was clearly an effort. He swallowed, wet his lips and finally whispered, “Hutch.”

“You’re gonna be okay, buddy,” Hutch said quickly. “You’re in the hospital, but you’re gonna be okay. Doc said so. It’s just gonna take a little time, a little work, but I’ll help you, and you’re gonna be all right.”

Starsky managed a nod. He moved his eyes, slowly and painfully, around the room for a moment. Hutch waited for the question that was sure to come. But it didn’t. Instead, Starsky made a supreme effort and managed, “Shot?”

“No, no, you weren’t shot.”

Starsky frowned a little. “Car wreck?”

He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t know what happened….

Feeling guilty, but also relieved, Hutch realized that Starsky wasn’t going to ask that question. Not yet, anyway. “No, buddy. Plane crash. You’re lucky you survived. It was pretty bad.”

“Plane crash?” Starsky blinked at him for a moment, obviously confused. Hutch could almost hear him thinking “What the hell was I doing on a plane?” but he didn’t say it. He drew a long breath and just nodded, taking Hutch’s word. Hutch picked up his hand again–the hand that he realized, with a sinking heart, still wore the shiny new wedding ring Starsky was sure to notice any minute–and patted it a little awkwardly.

“Can I get you anything? You want me to get the doctor?”

Starsky slowly shook his head. “Water, maybe….”

Hutch picked up the cup next to the bed and bent the straw in it, placing it gently between Starsky’s lips. Starsky swallowed several mouthfuls gratefully, then lay his head back again. Hutch replaced the cup on the nightstand.

“Thanks, Hutch,” Starsky said, already almost dozing again. Hutch patted his hand one more time, laid it back on the bed, and went to tell the duty nurse that Starsky had awakened.

Starsky slept for several more hours, long enough for Hutch to go home, shower and change, and pick up Rachel from the hotel. When they got back to the hospital, the doctor told them Starsky was out of all danger.

“Now he’s just got to get his strength back,” the doctor said, “and get back on his feet. I don’t think he’ll have any problem, but he’s going to have some physical therapy to get through.” He smiled gently at Hutch. “You look like the type who can make sure he does his exercises.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Hutch said, managing to smile back.

“Good. Then you’ll know how to handle him. It’s going to hurt a lot, and he won’t want to do them, but he has to if he wants to get back on his feet. Does he…,” the doctor paused and sobered, “does he know about his wife?”

Hutch shook his head. “No. He wasn’t awake very long and I–”

The doctor nodded. “You want to wait until he’s fully conscious. It’ll be quite a blow. I’ll tell him if you’d like.”

“No!” Hutch realized he’d sounded harsher than he meant to and consciously softened his tone. “I’ll tell him. It’ll be better that way.”

“Of course.” The doctor patted Rachel’s arm and walked away.

“Oh, Ken,” Rachel said, leaning on him as he led her back to a seat. “This is going to hurt Davy so much. I wish….”

“I know, Rachel. Me, too.”

 

Chapter Twelve

But as the days stretched into a week, and Starsky got well enough to stay awake all day, but still had not asked about Lydia, Hutch began to get alarmed. He didn’t share his fears with Rachel or even with Huggy, but he knew Starsky should have remembered her by now. Unless something was very wrong….

Starsky was still so weak he had to be helped with eating and, much to his disgust, had to use a bedpan. His spirits, however, seemed to be bouncing back.

“Now, Ma,” Starsky was saying, hoarsely but with decision, as Hutch entered his hospital room, “I’m gonna be just fine. Hutch’ll crack the whip on the therapy thing and Huggy’ll make sure I eat enough. You can go on back home. I know you got a life o’ your own to lead.”

Rachel’s hands were on her hips and she looked exactly like Starsky always did when he was having a stubborn fit. “Look here, young man, I am still your mother. And I won’t go off 3,000 miles away and leave you until I’m sure–”

“Hutch, would ya tell her–”

“David Michael–”

“Whoa!” Hutch interrupted with a forced laugh. “They’re going to take him down for X-rays in a few minutes. The doctor just told me. Can we put this argument off until later?”

“Of course,” Rachel said. She leaned over and kissed her son’s forehead, smoothed his curls, and smiled. Then she took Hutch’s arm and they left the room. Lydia’s funeral would begin in a couple of hours. They’d already put it off far longer than Jewish custom demanded, hoping Starsky would get well enough to attend, but he wasn’t going to; and Lydia’s parents, knowing Starsky did not remember and not wanting to upset his slow healing with the news, had finally decided to go ahead and have the funeral.

Hutch had struggled with the decision not to tell Starsky. He’d even discussed it with the psychiatrist at headquarters, who had shaken his head a little sadly at the story.

“He took quite a blow to the head, I understand,” Jenkins had said when Hutch finished. Hutch nodded. “An experience like a plane crash, coupled with unconsciousness and a blow to the head, could impair his memory of events immediately before and after the crash,” Jenkins went on. “He won’t even know he doesn’t remember things. It could just be gone. Telling him might not be wise. But not telling him…,” he’d paused and considered Hutch thoughtfully for a moment. “You know him better than I do. What would his reaction be if you did tell him?”

“Crushing grief,” Hutch said.

Jenkins pursed his lips. “I can’t tell you what to do, Hutch,” he said. “I think it’s a decision for the family to make together. I will tell you one thing, though. This is such a traumatic loss, it’s possible he’s just blocking it.”

“Blocking it?”

“His subconscious is keeping him from remembering to protect his emotional state,” Jenkins said. “He knows, but he’s denying it. It’s too painful to face.”

In the end, Hutch had told Rachel his opinion was that they should let Starsky be the one to lead the way. She had agreed, in spite of her misgivings, because she knew Hutch had seen her son through so many losses before.

The funeral was the saddest Hutch could ever remember attending. Even worse than Terry’s, and he’d thought nothing could be worse than that. Lydia’s mother tucked a little pink teddy bear into the casket with her daughter, smoothed her hair and kissed her cheek before bursting into such heartbroken sobs that she’d collapsed. Rachel clung to Hutch like a lifeline, and when it was their turn to walk past the casket and say goodbye, Rachel kissed the tips of her fingers and touched Lydia’s lips. Hutch, barely able to see for the tears in his own eyes, laid a hand over the cold, folded hands in the casket and whispered, “David would be here if he could, sweetheart.” He hoped Lydia understood, wherever she was.

Afterward, he left Rachel at her hotel to rest, and drove slowly back to the hospital in the rays of the setting sun. He walked into Starsky’s room, thinking Starsky was asleep, and sat down in the chair quietly. But Starsky turned his head, his face more pale than usual. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

For a moment, Hutch stopped breathing. He met his partner’s eyes fearfully and couldn’t speak.

Starsky lifted his left hand–the movement was still an effort, but he was getting a little stronger–and gazed at the ring there. “I was layin’ here a little while ago, thinkin’ I’d forgotten something. Like I left the coffee pot on or forgot to lock my car. And I happened to look down and I saw this.” His eyes stayed dry, but the look in them broke Hutch’s heart. “When did she die?”

“Six days ago,” Hutch said past the lump in his throat. “She asked me to tell you she loved you.”

Starsky’s eyes closed and Hutch saw his throat move as he swallowed. “I missed the funeral?”

“Yes.”

Starsky’s eyes stayed closed, and a single tear slid out from between the long dark lashes to roll into the pillow.

“Aw, babe,” Hutch put a hand on Starsky’s hair and gently stroked. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I was with her, buddy, and her very last words were her message to you. I–” his voice broke and he had to stop for a moment. Starsky didn’t open his eyes. Hutch drew a long breath and went on, “Starsk, you know I love you. I didn’t tell you about Lydia before because I was afraid to. You were hurt pretty bad…but, buddy, I want to help you. I want to be there for you.”

Starsky’s left hand gripped a handful of sheet, but there was no other reaction.

Hutch reached down and took that hand in his. “Did I ever tell you how much I admire you, partner? How strong you are, how brave? I know I give you a hard time, but it’s because I love you so much and I have a hard time showing it. But let me tell you now. No matter what this fucked-up world throws at you, you always stand tall. You never let it break you. And you’ve always been a pillar of strength for me. Always there when I needed you. Every single time. Aw, Starsk….” Hutch’s voice failed again for a moment, but he forced the last words out, “Starsk, you’re my hero. I want you to know that. You’re a hero to me.”

The hand Hutch held tightened on his and he saw another tear slip free and fall and Starsky’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but he made no sound. It was several moments before Starsky spoke, but when he did, he lifted his eyes to Hutch and said, brokenly, “Thanks, Hutch. From both of us.”

 

Chapter Thirteen

Starsky finally talked his mother into going home. Nick had left days earlier, and both Starsky and Hutch knew that she felt uneasy about Nick’s being in New York without her, as if there were anything she could do to keep him out of trouble.

Hutch drove her to the airport and tried in vain to banish the memory of the last time he’d driven a Starsky to the airport.

Rachel collected her boarding pass, checked her baggage, and finally looked up at him with those eyes so much like her elder son’s. “Tell me the truth, Ken,” she said soberly. “Is he really going to be all right?”

Hutch knew she didn’t mean physically. He squeezed her hand. “I’ll do everything in my power to make sure he is.”

“I know.” She gazed at him thoughtfully again for several moments. “Don’t be afraid to call me if he needs me.”

“I won’t.”

“And take care of yourself, too. He needs you most of all.”

“I will.”

She kissed his cheek and walked away from him.

Starsky’s therapy started the next day. He went at it with a kind of grim determination, but very little actual interest. It was as though, Hutch reflected, he thought he had to do it to please everyone else, but didn’t care if he got better for himself. But no matter what his reasons, Hutch stuck with him every day, encouraging him to keep trying when he got too tired or weak to go on, helping him go through the exercises, rubbing sore back and leg muscles afterward. But Starsky hardly spoke. And he never smiled.

Hutch was rubbing those sore muscles for Starsky a week after Rachel left, when Huggy showed up with a sackful of burritos. “Thanks, Huggy. I was gettin’ a little tired of hospital food,” Starsky said.

“Thought you might be,” Huggy said.

“Hutch, would you mind going and getting me a cup of coffee?” Starsky asked. “They won’t let me have any, but–”

“Sure, buddy,” Hutch said. “They don’t have to know. Come on, Hug. We’ll get enough for all three of us. I could use a cup myself.”

It was lunchtime and the cafeteria was crowded. Hutch and Huggy were standing in line to pay for the coffee when suddenly Hutch got frightened. His hands went cold and his heart started to pound. But there was nothing–nothing–in that cafeteria to frighten anyone. “Huggy,” he said quietly. “Can you manage? I gotta go back upstairs.”

Huggy studied him for just a moment before saying, “Sure, Hutch. Go on.”

Hutch almost danced with impatience in the elevator up to Starsky’s floor. He tried not to run when the doors finally opened. And when he got to Starsky’s door, he paused, just for a second, to slow his breathing before opening it.

Oh, my God.

Starsky was sitting up on his bed, his Beretta in his hands. He was examining the gun as if he’d never seen it before, turning it over and over. And then he turned the barrel toward himself and looked down at it.

Hutch was frozen to the spot, afraid to move, afraid to breathe…and afraid not to. He heard Huggy come up behind him, heard Huggy’s startled indrawn breath, and still Hutch could not move.

Where the fuck did he get that?

Very, very quietly, Starsky said, without looking up, “Am I still your hero, Hutch? Would I be your hero if I put this against my head,” he stroked the barrel with his other hand, “and fired? Would I? Huh?” His voice broke and Hutch saw a tear roll down his cheek.

“Starsk–”

“I’ll get security,” Huggy whispered.

“No,” Hutch said without taking his eyes off Starsky. He held out his hand, and Huggy put one of the cups into it. Hutch moved slowly and carefully toward his partner, carrying the coffee. He set it down on the bedside tray. “Here’s your coffee, Starsk.”

At first, Starsky didn’t move or acknowledge him. He continued to stare at the barrel of his gun as though fascinated.

“Starsky. Your coffee.”

Finally, Starsky raised his head and met Hutch’s eyes. “She’s gone, Hutch.”

“I know.”

“She’s dead.”

“I know.”

Starsky’s hand went limp and the gun slid out of his grasp. Hutch took it and slid it into his hip pocket. Starsky’s eyes filled, his shoulders shook, and he mutely held out his arms toward Hutch.

Hutch sank onto the bed and gathered Starsky close, trembling with fear and relief, as he held his partner close and let him cry.

 

Chapter Fourteen

“Now, you have to do these exercises every day, you understand, David,” the physical therapist said, handing Starsky his release papers and a long list of instructions. “Every day.”

“Okay,” Starsky said, taking the papers and handing them to Hutch, who stuffed them into his jacket pocket.

“You can’t have alcohol while you’re on this medication, either.”

“Okay.”

“Make sure he eats right,” she added to Hutch. “Limit his junk food intake.”

“I’ll try,” Hutch said, a slight twinkle coming into his eyes. “I can’t promise it’ll work.”

She smiled. “Do the best you can.” To Starsky, she said, “I want you to drink three glasses of whole milk, every day.”

“Can it be in a chocolate milkshake?” Starsky asked, with the first glimmer of humor Hutch had seen in him for weeks.

“Yes. In fact, that might even be better.”

“I can handle that.” Starsky settled himself more comfortably in the wheelchair. “And I’ll bring this stupid thing back before you even miss it. I ain’t gonna need it long.”

“I’m sure you won’t,” she said.

Hutch wheeled Starsky out to the Torino and opened the passenger door. “Okay, buddy, you’re gonna have to help,” he said, moving the footrests out of the way. He bent down and Starsky got a grip of his shoulder with one hand and the seat back with the other. In a couple of moments, Starsky was settled, but both were breathing hard.

“How do you expect to get me up the stairs into my place?” Starsky inquired once Hutch had stowed the wheelchair in the trunk and gotten in on the driver’s side.

“Huggy’s gonna meet us there,” Hutch said. “We’ll just carry you up. No big deal.”

Starsky closed his eyes and a look of pain crossed his face. “Shit.”

“Aw, Starsk. Don’t let it get to you, buddy. It’s just temporary.”

“I just hate to be so goddamned helpless.”

“I know. I’d hate it, too. But if you’ll eat what I feed you and do your exercises every day, you’ll be on your feet in no time.”

“Yeah.” Starsky was silent while Hutch started the car and pulled out of the parking place, but when Hutch got to the street and turned on the turn signal to go left, Starsky said, “Hutch.”

“Hmmm?”

“I wanna go to the grave.”

Hutch swallowed hard. “Right now, buddy? You sure?”

“Is it too hard to get to?” Starsky didn’t look at him.

“No. It’s right next to the path.”

“I just want to get the first look over with.” Starsky finally looked up and the pleading in his eyes was more than Hutch could take.

“Okay.” Hutch turned right instead. The cemetery was only about half a mile away, and Huggy would wait for them. Hutch pulled the car up as close to the grave as he could get, got out and pulled out the wheelchair. Silently, he opened it up, positioned it next to Starsky’s door, and helped his partner into it. Neither of them spoke as he pushed it, grunting a little, over the grass to the new grave. There was no stone yet.

Starsky still said nothing, simply sat and looked at the mound of dirt. Hutch gently put a hand on Starsky’s curly hair and let it rest there. After several minutes, Starsky said quietly, “Was she in pain, Hutch?”

“A little. Not much. They kept her doped up.”

He nodded and was silent for several more minutes. “Did she know she was dyin’?”

“Yes.”

“And you were with her?”

“I was holding her hand, babe.”

Starsky closed his eyes. “What about…the baby?”

“It was a girl, Starsk. Lydia asked me to tell you, but you were unconscious.”

Starsky made no sound, but Hutch saw his shoulders shake and quickly knelt next to the chair, wrapping his arms around him. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered into Starsky’s hair. “I’d give anything to take it back. Anything.”

“Hutch, I wanna name the baby. Will they let me do that?” Starsky, his eyes wet and his voice still trembling, clutched at Hutch’s arms and raised his head. “Will they?”

If they won’t, they’ll have me to deal with.

“I’m sure they will, Starsk. Lydia’s folks were waiting to order the tombstone until you were better. They thought you’d want to decide what to put on it.”

“I want to name her Emily Ruth,” Starsky said. “On the…on the plane…” his voice shook a little, but he steadied it, “we talked about names. Emily was Lydia’s grandmother and she wanted to name the…the baby Emily if it was a girl. And Ruth is for Lydia.” He smiled a little. “If it was a boy, she wanted to call him Kenneth.”

Hutch choked a little, and Starsky turned to look at him. “Hutch? I’m sorry, buddy. I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“It’s just that–” Hutch couldn’t go on. He rested his head against Starsky’s shoulder and tried to get hold of himself.

“Hutch? What’s the matter, partner?” Starsky put his hand under Hutch’s chin and made him look at him. “Lydia loved you, Hutch. You shoulda seen her face when she told me she wanted to name the baby Kenneth. She looked like,” he smiled again, “a little girl cookin’ up some mischief. She said, ‘Hutch’ll pretend to be mad, but you watch, he’ll secretly be pleased.'”

“And I would’ve been.”

“So what’s really wrong, then?”

“Oh, Starsky….” Hutch shook his head. “I’m so sorry about all this. God, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“For what?”

“For buying those goddamned tickets!”

Starsky stared at him for several moments before he found words. “What? You been blamin’ yourself for this? Hutch, that was the nicest thing you coulda done. You couldn’t’ve known what would happen. Nobody’s blamin’ you, buddy!”

“I am.”

“Well, don’t.” Starsky gave him a little shake. “I don’t blame you, Hutch. Lydia wouldn’t blame you, either, and she’d tell you so in no uncertain terms if she could. Now, look,” and he put his hands on either side of Hutch’s face, “you stop that, right now. It was an accident. Nobody’s fault. Not yours, for sure. Definitely not yours. Okay, Hutch? Huh?”

Hutch looked into Starsky’s eyes and saw nothing but love and concern there. He wasn’t lying. He couldn’t. Hutch could always tell when Starsky was lying. Every time. He rested his cheek against Starsky’s shoulder again, and they sat there for a long time, drawing and giving comfort.

~~~

Huggy was waiting when they arrived at Starsky’s, sitting on the steps with a cigarette in one hand and a paper bag at his feet. “About time you boys turned up,” he called cheerfully, trotting down the steps to meet the car. “Got you some dinner to tide you over the first night, Starsk,” he went on, opening the door and getting the wheelchair out. He opened it like an old pro and reached in for Starsky. Hutch joined him and together they lifted Starsky out and put his arms around their necks. Making a chair of their joined hands, they carried him up the stairs. Huggy set Starsky’s feet on the porch floor while Hutch took all of his weight. Once Huggy had the door open, the two of them got Starsky inside and deposited onto the couch while Huggy went back for the wheelchair.

“See, Starsk? That wasn’t so bad.”

“I feel like a sack of moldy potatoes,” Starsky complained, but he didn’t sound serious, and Hutch let it pass.

Huggy hung around only long enough to make sure Starsky was settled and Hutch didn’t need any help moving him around, then pleaded a neglected bar and left to go back to The Pits. Hutch went into the kitchen to warm up the Chinese food Huggy had thoughtfully provided and mixed Starsky up a chocolate malted milk while he was there. He came back, plopped it all onto the coffee table, and affected a Jewish mother accent. “Eat something. You’ll feel better.”

Starsky actually grinned at him. “Needs work. But it’s not bad. You must’ve spent a lot of time with my mom.”

Hutch grinned back and gave a shrug. “Yeah. I s’pose.”

 

Chapter Fifteen

Starsky had practiced with the wheelchair at the hospital, so he didn’t need much help navigating around the apartment. Huggy and Hutch had moved furniture around to make it easy for Starsky to get from one room to another, and Hutch helped him get in and out of the bathroom. The problem was, the medications and the lack of feeling Starsky still had below the waist combined to make it difficult for him to know when he had to use the bathroom, and sometimes there was little or no warning, so Hutch had to stay near and be ready to move at a moment’s notice. That didn’t bother Hutch, but it bothered Starsky. All in all, by the time the news was over at 11:30, both were more than ready to call it a night.

“I want you to holler if you need me for anything overnight,” Hutch said, grunting a little as he lifted Starsky into the bed. “Don’t worry about bothering me, okay? It’s what I’m here for. You want a drink of water, you gotta go to the john, you yell. I’ll be right in there.”

Starsky was silent, but he nodded. Hutch tucked the covers around him, gave him a pat on the shoulder and left the room. It wasn’t easy to get comfortable on Starsky’s couch, but Hutch was tired, and it wasn’t long before he fell asleep. Something woke him some time later, however, and he sat up, listening. When he heard nothing more, he got up quietly and tiptoed to Starsky’s room to peek in at him. Though Starsky was lying on his side, and Hutch couldn’t see his face, he knew he was awake. He went on in and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“You okay?”

Starsky sighed and flopped over onto his back. “I’m sorry. I woke ya up.”

“I told you–”

“I don’t need nothin’, Hutch,” Starsky said apologetically. “I just…I couldn’t sleep.”

“Aw, Starsk.” Hutch heard the bleak note in his partner’s voice, try as Starsky might to keep it out. He laid a hand on Starsky’s shoulder and gently stroked back and forth. “You wanna talk?”

“It won’t bring her back.”

“No. But it might help you sleep.”

Starsky stared up at the ceiling for several moments, one hand covering Hutch’s where it lay on his shoulder, and finally said, “I thought, when I came home, I’d be bringin’ Lydia with me. And we’d be lookin’ for a bigger place, so as to have room for the baby when it–she–was born. And pickin’ out a crib, and buyin’ baby clothes and diapers….” His voice broke and Hutch squeezed his shoulder a little, to remind him he was nearby. “Hutch, I–I don’t know how to go on without her.”

“I know, buddy.” Hutch could barely make the words come.

“Every time. Every goddamned time….” Starsky stopped, but Hutch knew what he was talking about.

“If I could trade places with her, I would,” Hutch said earnestly, his heart aching. “I’d rather be dead myself than have Lydia dead and you suffering so much–”

“Hutch, no!” Starsky sat bolt upright and took Hutch by the shoulders, shaking him a little. “Don’t even think such a thing. Don’t even think that!”

Hutch shut up, a little startled.

Starsky’s eyes bored into his. “I miss her so much,” he said, his voice shaking. “I’d give almost anything to have her back. Anything but you. I couldn’t give that. I’ll learn…,” he paused and swallowed hard, “…to live without her. It’s gonna take time. A lot of time. Most of my dreams were wrapped up in Lydia, in our future, in the ba– in Emily. And it hurts, Hutch. Oh, God, it hurts. But I couldn’t do that, Hutch…I couldn’t go on, if you weren’t here to see me through it.”

Hutch couldn’t speak for a moment. But when he could, he said, “But it’s all my fault, Starsk. I did this. I took her from you with those damned–”

“No, you did not,” Starsky said, almost angrily. “It is not your fault. What about all those other people who were hurt, who died? Did you kill them, too?”

Hutch hadn’t even thought about the other people since the crash.

“I didn’t think so,” Starsky said, a bit more calmly.

“But I told you it was over, the jinx was over. I told you that this time it would be all right.”

“That still don’t make it your fault!”

Hutch dropped his eyes.

“What makes you think you can take all the blame for everything that happens to me? Aw, Hutch. You big blond blintz.” Starsky smiled, in spite of his wet eyes, and gave Hutch a hug. “You’re an idiot, you know that? Have I told you that today?”

Hutch grinned a little. “No.”

“Well, consider yourself told.”

~~~

After that, the air was cleared considerably. Hutch helped Starsky with his exercises every day, and Starsky did them, though he hated it and complained bitterly and constantly. He also complained about the food that Hutch and Huggy conspired to feed him and even got to the point he complained about having to drink chocolate milkshakes. But all his complaining was just a way to let off steam, and Hutch knew it. He didn’t take it seriously and rarely even acknowledged it.

One afternoon, Starsky was resting up from his labors and watching a game show on television. Hutch hated game shows, but he was in the kitchen trying to fix supper, so he didn’t have to watch it.

Usually, Starsky cheered the contestants on, answered the questions himself or groaned aloud when a contestant did or said something he didn’t agree with. And he’d been doing that until a few minutes ago. But gradually Hutch realized that for the last several minutes, in spite of the fact that he could hear the studio audience yelling and cheering, Starsky had been utterly silent. Worried, he went into the living area to see if something was wrong.

Starsky was sitting in his wheelchair, hands folded in his lap, head bowed. Hutch went over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Starsk? What’s wrong? You okay?”

Starsky nodded once, but didn’t look up.

“Come on. I know something’s wrong. Why won’t you look at me?” When he still got no answer, he knelt so he could look up into Starsky’s face. “Starsk?”

Starsky finally glanced at him, but immediately turned his eyes away again. “I’m too fuckin’ embarrassed to even say it.”

“Embarrassed? With me? Come on, buddy. Since when?”

Starsky smiled a little wanly.

“Okay. Spill it. What’s wrong?”

He bit his lip and quietly said, “I shit myself.”

Hutch wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “What?”

“I said,” Starsky raised his voice, “I shit myself.” He was red from collar to hairline.

“Aw, buddy.” Hutch gentled his voice and patted Starsky’s arm. “You know that’s just a side effect of all this. It’s no big deal. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Starsky said, a little angrily. “I shit myself, man, that is not okay.” He fisted the arm of the chair. “This sucks.”

This was not a case of Starsky letting off steam and pretending to be frustrated and angry when he really wasn’t. Hutch couldn’t remember ever seeing his partner this agitated. “Come on, babe. It’s just shit. What the fuck? You think I never did that?”

Starsky’s lips twitched a little, and Hutch was encouraged by that.

“I mean, shit happens.”

The lips twitched again, more this time.

“You always were kind of a shithead,” Hutch went on.

A snicker escaped.

“After all, what’s a little shit between friends?”

Starsky actually laughed, though he was visibly trying not to, and choked it back as soon as he could.

“I mean, we don’t need this shit….”

“Stop!” Starsky was laughing hard now, his eyes beginning to water.

Hutch couldn’t hold back any longer, either, and he gave Starsky a friendly slap on the back. “Come on, shit-for-brains, let’s get you cleaned up.”

That set Starsky off again, and he gave up trying to hide it, though Hutch could see the gratitude in his eyes, too, that Hutch had treated the whole matter lightly.

“And when we’re done doing that,” Hutch said, releasing the brake on the chair and turning it toward the bathroom, “we’ll go get shit-faced.”

~~~

Two months later, when Starsky was on his feet again and back on light duty, the tombstone came and the cemetery sent a letter that it had been put in place. Starsky read it silently, with sad but dry eyes, then slid it across the desk to Hutch, who was plowing through reports. Hutch looked up, took the letter and read it. Then he looked at Starsky again. “About time for our lunch break, isn’t it?”

Starsky nodded gratefully.

Hutch was still driving most of the time, since Starsky’s legs remained a bit weak. He pulled the LTD up next to the Geisler plot a few minutes later. Starsky stayed seated for a moment, looking at the backside of the stone, before getting out and walking toward it. Hutch trotted to catch up and laid a hand on his shoulder as they stood together, looking down at the dark gray granite.

At the top was carved the outline of an angel with spreading wings, her arms held out as if to protect the two people who lay below. Under the angel, it said “Lydia Ruth Geisler Starsky. Beloved daughter, wife and mother. 1950-1981.”

Under that was an etching of a hand cradling a tiny, tiny baby.

“Emily Ruth Starsky,” the inscription read. “Adored daughter of Lydia and David.”

Immortality
There is a vision and a fire in me
I’ll keep the memory of you and me inside
We don’t say goodbye
We don’t say goodbye
With all my love for you
And what else we may do
We don’t say…goodbye.
“Immortality” by Barry, Robin and Maurice Gibb

THE END