Captain Dobey sat at his desk looking across at his newest detective. Detective Hutchinson had just transfered to bay City from Beverly Hills. He looked over the blond man, thinking that he appeared to be anything but a homicide detective (which in a way was true - according to his file Hutchinson had not yet actually worked a homicide case). The blond appeared to be well groomed and his clothes spoke of a certain amount of wealth. Harold began to wonder if he'd made the right choice deciding on who to parnter Hutchinson with before he actually met the man. Hutchinson sat back in his chair infront of his new Captain's desk. He was excited about his new assignment and a little nervous about meeting his new partner, but he didn't let it show. He wondered who he'd be partnered with. A grizzled veteran, jaded and cynical from too many years working violent murder cases? A gung-ho up and comer? To tell the truth, he was more curious than anything. When was the guy going to show up already? Detective Starsky rushed towards Dobey's office, knowing that he was no doubt in for another chewing out. He was late - again. Today of all days was the worst to be late for, since he was getting parntered with a new transfer. He burst into Dobey's office, through the side door. He had a half eaten doughnut sticking out of his mouth and didn't seem to notice Hutchinson. He took the doughnut out of his mouth and looked at Dobey sheepishly.
    "Sorry, Cap'n, car troubles - again," he apologized, thinking to himselff that one of these days he would get a much better car.
 Dobey rolled his eyes. "Well I'm glad you decided to join us anyway, Detective. I hope we aren't interrupting your breakfast but I thought you might want to meet your new partner," he said gruffly. He didn't want to be too soft on Starsky's bad example on Hutchinson's first day. "This is Ken Hutchinson." Dobey told Starsky. Looking at Hutchinson, he said "This is..." but Hutchinson cut him off.
    "Dave Starsky," he finished, standing up.
    Starsky turned and grinned at his new partner. "Hiya, Hutch."
    Dobey looked momentarily thrown for a loop. "Oh," he said, in an effort to recover himself. "You've already met."
    "We knew each other at the Academy," Hutchinson explained simply.
    "Been a long time." Starsky said, not sure exactly how to react to Hutchinson being his new partner. They had been very good friends at the Academy, but at the time Hutchinson had been married and his wife Vanessa was very much the uptown snob, who disapproved of their friendship. And it had been because of her that they had drifted apart. "Still married?"
    "Um.. officially. We're separated," Hutchinson said a little awkwardly. It had been, in a way, because of Vanessa that he had lost contact with Starsky, but how could he tell his new partner that it hadn't been the way it looked? It hadn't been because she disapproved of him. She had, but that was one thing that Hutchinson had never given a damn about her approval. But it *was* to please her that he took the Beverly Hills assignment. Uptown. And he knew now that he had been right to leave there when his marriage started falling apart. Meeting up with Starsky again had to be some kind of kismet. It told him he'd made the right decision. "Did you ever tie the knot?" he asked sort of casually, though he was really quite curious.
    "Nah. Still having too much fun playin' the field." Starsky said, with grin. He glanced over Hutch's attire, noticing he was still very much the 'uptown' boy. He looked like model for a high fallutin' fashion magazine - just as he always had before.
    Hutch smiled a little uneasily. There was something between them that hadn't been there at the Academy. He recognized it well - it came with Vanessa. It came with a life not lived in dorm rooms, where everyone was not in the same boat. Or if they *were* on the same boat, then some were in First Class and some were in Steerage. They had been so close before though, Hutch was certain they could overcome it. It was just a matter of time... and maybe sorting out some issues. "Great," he said. He hoped he sounded more enthusiastic than he felt. He didn't even really know what he was referring to - he was just trying to think of something to say to reduce the awkwardness.
    Starsky wanted to continue the conversation, but suddenly became aware that they weren't in the room alone, Dobey was still sitting there, obviously confused by the new partners.
    "Unless you have a problem, get to work." Dobey said gruffly.
    "'Kay," Starsky said, leading the way out of Dobey's office and to their desk.
     "So," Hutch said, trying to start conversation now that they were outside of Captainly ears. "These would be our desks... conveniently accompanied by chairs..." his voice trailed off. He looked at Starsky suddenly. "Is something wrong, Starsk? 'Cause you can put in for a different partner if this isn't going to work for you." He had been aware of his partner's scrutinizing gaze and it occurred to him that he didn't have to feel guilty for being who he was. If they were going to work together, he wanted it to be honest. He wanted all their cards on the table right off the bat. He just hoped it didn't lose him his new partner before he ever really had him. He had truly felt an almost dizzying rush of relief when he recognized just who had walked into Captain Dobey's office that morning. He'd never had a closer friend and he wanted that back - but not at the price of his own self-respect.
    "Nothing's wrong, Hutch," Starsky said sincerely. "Why would I put in for a new partner, huh? Before we left the Academy, we said we'd be partners one day, and looks like that day is here so why would I back out of that now? Unless you want a different partner." Starsky wondered if that was really the case. Things between him and Hutch had changed almost as soon as they had gotten out of the Academy. Hutch's wife had vocally disapproved of him, made it known that she thought of him as nothing more than white trash. He found it impossible to get along with her, though he had attempted to remain civil. It reached a point that he just refused to go over to the Hutchinson home, which didn't seem to be a problem at first. Hutch still came over to his apartment... then that began to happen less and less often. Which left him wondering if Hutch maybe agreed with his wife and friends; that because they were out of the Academy and in the 'real world' that Hutch's attitude had changed. And when Hutch left to work in Beverly Hills they stopped talking altogether.
    Hutch dropped his eyes to a pile of papers on the desk. He wasn't really looking at them. He shook his head. "That's the last thing I want in the world," he said, then looked up almost timidly to find his partner's eyes. He managed a small smile. "We were going to be the best team in the deartment. A force to be reckoned with. ...I wouldn't mind giving it a try." He extended his arm and offered Starsky his hand, hoping the other man would shake it and seal their partnership.
    Starsky grinned brightly, and took the offered hand in a firm handshake. "Me neither."
    Hutch couldn't help his timid smile from turning into a broad grin. Starsky's enthusiasm had always been contagious. "So what're we working on at the moment, partner?"
    Starsky reached over and grabbed the top file off the stack, and handed it Hutch. "Supposed ta be working on this one, 'first and foremost'," he told his new partner, recalling how Dobey had been anxious for a break to be found in the case.
    Hutch opened the file and started to read it over. It was a gruesome multiple homocide. They didn't know who committed it, but whoever it had been was a sick individual. The perpetrator had broken into a women's shelter via an upper-floor window and snuck downstairs. Whoever it was had then proceeded to knife 6 women to death, one by one, then escape into the night. The victims had been found the next morning, when a woman who worked at the shelter as a volunteer had come in to relieve one of the slain women who had been on night duty. They had no leads. Hutchinson closed the file grimly and placed it back on the stack wordlessly.
    "You work any homicide yet?" Starsky asked, noting Hutch's reaction with an obvious genuine concern.
    "Nope," he said, then thoughtfully revised his response. "I worked an armed robbery where the victim was killed." There was a pause, as he took a deep breath - clearly pulling himself together enough to say what he had to say without wavering. "Nothing so... seemingly motiveless." He picked up the file again. "I mean, *look* at this. Nothing was *taken*. He went there purely for the purpose of killing those people. Why would somebody *do* that?" He became aware that he had begun to raise his voice slightly. He put the file down with forced calm, feeling embarrassed at his outburt. Some first impression he was making.
    "Don't know *why*. It's all guesses right now. Don't have any substantial leads. But the women that were in there were all there because they were trying to escape abusive relationships. It kind of seems whoever did it was one of the victim's husbands, and he just killed all of them to keep it from appearing obvious," Starsky said. He leaned back against the desk, thinking the case over. He had seen the scene of the crime and knew how bad it looked, and understood how upset Hutchinson was. "Whoever did it was a pro because all the vicitims were still in their beds. He killed them all before they could make a sound."
     Hutch dropped his eyes to the ground for a moment. Something this awful *would* be his first homocide case. "Baptism of fire," he said, more to himself than Starsky. "Where do we start?"
     "Go ask some more questions. There is still a few ex's that haven't been accounted for yet." Starsky said, and paused for a moment. "If you think this is too harsh a case for being the first and all ... we could ask Dobey to give us a different assignment. He's pretty understanding about things, so I doubt he'd argue all that much."
    Hutch shook his head vehemently. "No. I can handle this," he said firmly. Probably as much to convince himself as his partner. "Let's go talk to some people."
    Starsky nodded and led the way down to the police garage. He wondered how well this partnership was going to work out. Even though he wished it would work out as perfectly as they had once thought (or at least he had thought) he still had some doubts. Hutch had been the first person he really trusted and allowed himself to get close to. Then it all had seemed to be for nothing and Hutch was gone, back to the fancy life from which he had come - as though despite all his saying that 'class' didn't matter, it did anyway as soon as they entered the 'real world'.
    Starsky's car was a beat-up  brown Chevy. Hutch stood and stared at it a moment, oblivious to Starsky's sudden
self-conscious fidgeting. He looked at his partner.
    "What a fabulous car!" he said, then noticed the look from Starsky that was greeting his enthusiasm - half like he didn't believe Hutch was beinng sincere, half like he'd just seen Hutch spontaneously grow a second head. Hutch
suddenly felt awkward. "Not my *dream* car or anything... I like something with a little longer body, you know? I just think..." He paused. Starsky unlocked his door. "Nevermind," Hutch mumbled, and slid into the passenger seat. 'Great,' he thought. 'Now he thinks I'm patronizing him.'
    "Not my dream car either." Starsky said. "But, it's all I can afford." he said, as he started the car. "You still driving the 'vette?"
     "Uh, nope. Van sorta kept it." He shrugged. "Never really liked it anyway."
     "Oh," Starsky commented, pulling out of the parking garage. He hoped the car didn't stall out on him again like it had this morning just to prove how big of a junk heap it was. "What kinda car you got now?" hating how pathetic his attempt at making 'small talk' sounded.
    "I'm sort of between cars at the moment," he answered, starting to feel stupid for feeling so awkward. It had never been like this before. They'd always talked so easily. Or not talked *just* as easily. Comfortable companionable silence when nothing needed said. Now they were like two strangers sitting beside each other on the bus, feeling compelled to talk about nothing, really, because it was easier than not saying anything. "Uh, Starsk..." he started, then stopped, not knowing quite how to phrase what he wanted to say. Starsky's expression had become expectant. Perhaps he had been feeling the same way as Hutch. He tried again. "Starsk, what's wrong with us? We used to be able to talk. I'm not..." he trailed off. "I just want to know what this wall between us is made of."
     "I don't know," Starsky replied, turning to look at Hutch. "Too many other things seemed to matter after we got out of the Academy."
    Hutch looked down at his hands. "You think so? I think we decide what matters." He looked at his partner. "It wasn't fair, you know."
    "What wasn't?" Starsky asked. A part of him wanting to accuse the falling apart of their friendship on Hutch - after all he was the one who made the decision to stick with his wife in the 'upper class' world in which he lived. But he knew that wasn't fair, knew he was partly to blame since he had also stopped trying.
    "Making me choose. Van didn't want to know you, okay? That's true. But I did. I never let her say a bad word about you without challenging it. But she wanted me to move to Beverly Hills and you wanted me to go to Bay City. What could I do? Leave my wife?" He paused for a second. "Well, I guess I *could* have for all the good it did me. But it wasn't fair. And it got too hard after a while, trying to perform some endless juggling act, like a freak in a circus in Hell. So maybe I stopped trying as hard as I could have, but quitting was hard too. Harder, maybe."
    Starsky flinched inwardly, partly from recalling how bad things had gotten back then and partly from hearing how bad it had been for Hutch. They had never gone as far as to discuss the fighting between Vanessa and Starsky, with Hutch running intercept (and in the end fighting with his wife). "I didn't expect you to leave her, I never once told you that you had to make a decision. And I *know* that you made the one that you *had* to ... I mean she's your wife, or was. It was just hard. If I called you and she answered she'd slam the phone in my ear. Whenever I went over she'd never let me in the door ... or stand there and just ... she made a point of pointing out how different we were. I just ..." Starsky rambled quickly. He paused to draw a deep breath and slowly released it. "It seemed that you ended up agreeing with her. I don't just mean about on where to move ..."
    Hutch leaned his head against the glass in resignation. That's what he'd been *afraid* Starsky was thinking. "I never agreed with her," he said quietly. "I never..." he closed his eyes. "I never even wanted to live like that. That's not me. If I wanted to make her happy, I had to spend all my time pretending to be what she wanted in a husband - what she approved of in a person. And that's not me. And every day I fell asleep exhausted from pretending, I wished I could have called you and been myself for just 5 minutes, because your the only person I've ever spent time with that *didn't* expect some kind of charade from me."
He didn't know what kind of effect this would have, but it had been bottled up inside for so long, he was glad he'd finally said it, regardless of what happened now.
    "Hey ..." Starsky reached over and placed a hand on Hutch's shoulder, waiting until his partner looked at him. "We got a job to do here. Why don't we talk about this later over a beer?"
    Hutch nodded gratefully, then leaned his head back against the glass. He didn't feel the need to say anything. The awkwardness of the silence had gone.
    Starsky no longer felt that anything needed to be said, and that anything that did need said could be said later. He began to whistle quietly, though his whistling was more then just slightly out of tune.
    Hutch smiled, feeling better. "So where is this place? It feels like we've been driving for hours," he said lightly.
    "It's actually on the outskirts of the city. They have a little bit of land - well more than anywhere in the city's got." Starsky glanced at Hutch grinning slightly. "More in touch with nature as *some* people like."
    Hutch's smile widened. "I guess being a little out of the way makes it feel safer too." He thought for a moment. "It wasn't though, was it?"
    "They built it there because it was out of the city and figuring it would help the women relax more to be in peaceful surroundings," Starsky said, filling his new partner in on some of the history of the place he had learned when he first went to investigate.
    "Is its existence common knowledge? How did our killer know where to look for... whoever it was that he was there to kill specifically?"
    "It's not very well known. They don't advertise their location in the phone book or nothing. But anyone who wants to be able to find it can." Starsky said. "Not sure he knew where to look. He came in at night and they don't have any real sercurity. He could've just wandered through the place until he found the bedrooms."
    Hutch frowned. "You'd think a place like that would be *expecting* the odd crazed ex-husband. Why would the security be so poor?"
    "They can't afford it. It's completly a charity organization."
    Hutch nodded ruefully. It figured. Was he being paranoid, or did everything really come down to money? "Well, wake me up when we get there," he cracked, and stared out the window at the passing scenery.
     "It's only another couple miles," Starsky told him.
    Finally they reached the home and Starsky's car spluttered when he turned it off, sounding as though it were dying as the engine cut out. Hutch sort of stared through the windshield a moment at the hood of the car, but said nothing. He glanced at Starsky and noticed a self-conscious look pass across the detective's features briefly. He pushed his door open and got out of the car, looking up at the big, old house as he did so. It must have been built at least 50 years ago, and had been converted to its current use much more recently. He looked over as his partner came around the car and joined him, then the two men walked up to the door.
     "Can I help you?" A woman who looked to be in her mid fifties asked, as the two men entered. She looked slightly nervous, eyeing both the men over carefully.
    "Ms. Emerson, I'm Detective Starsky. I talked to you the other day," he told her as he stepped forward to shake her hand, notcing that her hand was trembling slightly as she returned the handshake.
    "Oh, yes, I remember you," Ms. Emerson said, seeming to relax slightly.
    "This is my partner, Detective Hutchinson."
    "Nice to meet you, Mrs Emerson," Hutch said warmly. She stepped back to allow them to move from the landing into the front room.
     "We'd like to ask you a few more questions concerning the night in question."
    "Alright," Mrs Emerson said uncertainly. "I don't know what else I can tell you."
    "Just start at the beginning, Mrs. Emerson," Hutch told her gently. "Perhaps just by talking about it you may remember something you didn't mention before."
    She still looked uncertain, but tried to do as she was asked. "Well, I came on my morning shift, like I said, and thought it was weird that nobody was up yet. We do.. er, *did*, I should say" Her face had fallen and she struggled to keep her composure. "We had some early risers," she finished quietly, looking at the ground now. She fell silent.
     "Did anything else seem out of place to you?" Starsky asked, even though the questions had been asked before sometimes different answers were told later, or things were remembered.
    "No, everything else all appeared to be normal ... until I went upstairs."
    Hutch noticed her slight hesitation. "But...?" he prompted.
    "Well," she said slowly. "Something *was* a little weird."
    "What was that?" Hutch asked.
    "There was a clean knife lying in the kitchen sink. One of the women on usually puts all the clean dishes away at night before going to bed." She looked a little embarrassed. "I guess I figured someone had had a midnight snack or something. I didn't really think much about it."
    "What did you do with knife?" Starsky asked, even though the fact that the knife was clean eliminated any possibilites of lifting prints .. even then came the fact of how many people used that knife - there could *many* sets of prints to try to sort through.
    "Well, I..." she thought about it. Seemed at something of a loss. "I didn't do anything with it. It seemed so stupid to worry about dishes in the sink after what had happened. Maybe one of the other girls put it away."
     "Would you be able to show us the knife?"
     "Um, I think so. Let me go see. I'm sure I know which one it was. We only have the one of that size." She disappeared into the kitchen.
    Hutch turned to his partner. "That was gall,wasn't it? That was someone who knew what he was doing. Didn't even bring a murder weapon with him - he knew he'd find one to hand. Then, after he kills every woman in the place, he strolls back downstairs and washes it in their sink. He probably walked right out the front door!" His whisper, though not loud enough even at the end of his rant for the woman in the next room to hear, had increased with intensity during his outburst. He put a hand across his forehead and squeezed his temples with his thumb and forefinger, then sighed.
    "He might've even walked in the front door," Starsky said. This was one of the worst cases he had worked yet as a detective. He recalled how hard his first case had been. It had been a grisly scene and he had almost wanted to quit, having no one he could talk to about it. So he felt a certain amount of pity for his new partner and decided that if Hutch needed to talk he would be there to listen (even though he was sure Hutch had more than enough other friends he could talk to).
    "Maybe," Hutch said resignedly, letting his hand drop back to his side as Mrs. Emerson returned with a large kitchen knife. She handed it to Starsky.
    "So you really think that that's what he... did it with?"
    "In all likelihood," Starsky said, examining the blade carefully and not seeing a single drop of blood.
    Starsky handed the knife to Hutch for his partner's examination. Sometimes one pair of eyes could see what another missed.
    Mrs. Emerson was looking extremely worn down and decidely older. She was looking at the knife sort of forlornly. "Is there anything else I can help you with?" she asked.
    "Not at the moment," Hutch answered, fingering the knife gingerly and turning to go.
    "We're empty now, you know? Women won't come here now, and I don't blame them. We're keeping it open just in case. Maybe out of hope. I don't know how long we can keep an empty house before we have to shut down. It would be a shame for women who need us to have to stay in their bad situations just because there's no place safe for them to go."
    "Don't worry, ma'am, once we catch whoever is responsible, I am sure things will go back to normal and all the women who need help can stay here. And maybe a way for you to have more security can be found so that there is no chance of a repeat situation."
    She nodded, though not very hopefully, and saw them to the door. They looked at each other a moment, wordlessly, as they stood on the porch, then went back to the car. As they slid into their seats, Hutch looked over at Starsky. "We have a list of all the women who were there that night? Who they were, and who they were running away from?"
    "Mostly." Starsky said and sighed. "Some were here under assumed names, too afraid to say who they were. It was all they could do to come here and ask for help."
    Hutch nodded again. He worked here too long and he was going to come down with a nasty case of whiplash. "Well, what do you say we start with what the coroner can tell us about the identities of the girls who didn't have names? We can drop the knife off on the way."
    "Yeah," Starsky agreed, and moved to start the car. The engine refused to turn over. "Damnit, not now," Starsky muttered under his breath.
    Hutch didn't say anything, he was starting to get a feeling for how sensitive Starsky was in car-related matters. He sat quietly and waited.
    After a couple more tries the car finally started. Starsky didn't even look at Hutch, not wanting to see the inevitable 'ridiciule' that'd be in Hutch's blue eyes about the fact his junker car was in such bad shape.
     Hutch had noticed that Starsky avoided his eyes whenever the car did something less than satisfactory. He wished there was something he could do to let his partner know that it didn't bother him, but anything he said would sound like he was being patronizing, and that would only do more harm than good, so he kept his mouth shut.
    Starsky wasn't too sure of what to say as he headed back towards the city. "At least there were no children there. There are other similar shelters that have children as while as wives .."
     "Yeah, I guess it was lucky that way," Hutch agreed, though his heart hadn't been in it any more than Starsky's. "Do you think they'll have had a chance to get through the dental records ID process on all the girls that were using assumed names by now?"
    "It's hard to say. It takes a while sometimes with massmurder cases like this one. Everything we have so far is all speculation. I mean we *assume* it was one of their husbands. It could've been a past resident's husband whose wife went there and he blames the place for her leaving. We don't know anything." Starsky said, slamming one hand agaisnt the steering wheel to emphasize his frustration.
     In an odd way, it was comforting to see his slightly more experienced partner get frustrated by the meaninglessness of the act they were investigating, but at the same time, he wanted to tell him that it wasn't his fault and that they would find the guy and not to worry. "Look, evidence is in short supply in alot of cases in alot of departments. We have plenty. There's motive galore with a place like that, if you're a sicko. Let's just go with our current line of investigation. It feels right, even if it is nauseating."
     "True," Starsky agreed. Hutch was the first partner he ever discussed his frustraions about the case with, even though all the others had been little more than temporary partners as most didn't seem to get along with the dark haired detective well enough to stay parntered for long.
     They arrived back at the station and went down to the morgue, stopping at the crimelab to drop off the knife on the *very* off-chance that there was still something incriminating (or at least helpful) to be found on it.  They took the knife, doubtful that it would prove to be of much use. Only one more of the victims had been identified: Kassi Brocken.
     "Kassi Brocken," Hutch read off the paper. "Let's see what we can find out about her."
    Starsky nodded. It took them a while to find out what her home address had been, where her husband still lived and went to question him as to his wherebaouts the night of the murders.
     It turned out that Brocken had an alibi. Airtight. All they could do was wait to see who the other Jane Does turned out to be.  Starsky and Hutch were sitting in the squad room looking over the files, searching for any lead no matter how slim it may seem - any possible lead that hadn't already been followed. Another detective (who looked more like a linebacker for a football team) sauntered over.
    "So, you're the new guy?" He asked, staring at the blond detective, with an almost critizing gaze.
    Hutch looked up at the detective disinterestedly. "Who's asking?" he said blandly, then returned his attention to the file on his desk.
    "I am."
    "Why don't you go scurry back under whatever rock you crawled out from under, Jackson." Starsky said, nearly growling as he glared at the bigger detective.
    "Shame you got stuck with the partner you did, Blondie."
    "Could have been worse," Hutch said casually. "They could have stuck me with some big, dumb flatfoot on a power trip. I don't suppose you know anyone like that in your bathroom mirror?"
    Starsky chuckled as Jackson's face turned red. "You gotta a nasty mouth on you, boy," Jackson snarled.
    "Take a hike, Jackson. We are rather busy working on a case." Starsky said, barely able to restrain himself from starting a fight.
    Jackson laughed. "Guess it won't ever get solved. Give it a week, Blondie and you'll be in there begging Dobey for a new partner." Jackson informed Hutch, having no clue that Hutch already knew Starsky.
    Hutch stood up. Jackson was broadshouldered, but Hutch was taller. He stood over Jackson and looked down into his face. He grabbed a handful of Jackson's shirt and pulled him towards him a bit roughly. Jackson clearly hadn't expected this reaction from the new guy. His defenses were focused on the possibility of Starsky jumping over the desk. Perhaps that had even been the desired reaction. This caught him off-guard. "My *partner* told you we're busy," Hutch snarled, "so take a hike. If you want to talk again later, come see me any time. I'll be with Starsky." With that he let go of Jackson's shirt with a bit of a shove, then sat back down at his desk after one last glare in Jackson's direction. He picked up his pencil and continued his work as if the incident had never happened.
    Jackson stared at Hutch, almost unable to comprehend what had just happened. There was a faint sound of laughter from other officers who had witnessed the altercation. He stormed off, grumbling under his breath about the new blond detective. Starsky just looked at Hutch for a moment. Jackson wasn't the only one who hadn't expected the reaction from his 'bullying' - Starsky also hadn't expected it.
    Hutch glanced up at his partner and did a small double-take as he realized that Starsky was staring at him. "What?" he asked, genuinely wondering why Starsky had that somewhat inscrutable look on his face. It was some strange combination of confusion and pride.
    "Um ... just that not many people stand up to Jackson," Starsky said, not saying that since he worked part of a case with Jackson, the other detective often harassed him He always dealt with it on his own - and definitely never had any help.
    "Well maybe they ought to," Hutch said simply, then turned his gaze back to his file. He studied it for a second, then looked up. "I'm going bugeyed from this and it's not getting us anywhere. Are you hungry?"
    "Yeah." Starsky replied, with a grin, shutting the file he had been looking at. "You still eat all that health food junk?"
    "That health food *junk*, as you call it, has kept me trim and fit and handsome for all these years, I'll have you know," he said mock-indignantly. "But you know this part of town better than I do. Tell you what - you pick the place and I'll treat."
     "Well I sure ain't gonna argue with that." Starsky said and smiled. "With picking the place and not having to pay that is."
Hutch grinned. "Well then, love it while it lasts, Curly," he said and picked up his jacket.
    Starsky was about to make a comment but seemed to decide against it, instead he turned and headed towards the parking garage.
    Hutch followed him, wary of his sudden silence. In the garage, they approached Starsky's car, but before they got in Hutch put a hand on Starsky's shoulder, spinning him around to face him.
    Starsky looked startled but Hutch's unexpected action. "What?" he asked catiously.
    Hutch took a deep, frustrated breath. "I don't know," he said. "I just..." He closed his eyes a second, then opened them again. "Something's bothering you again. Tell me what it is."
    "There's nothing bothering me," Starsky said. "So let's just go get somethin' to eat."
    "Fair enough," Hutch said, and walked around the car to slide into the passenger seat.
    Starsky climbed in behind the wheel, and paused for a moment before starting the car. "Thanks," he said quietly.
    Hutch looked up, startled. He'd thought Starsky'd been angry with him again. 'Thanks' was the last thing he'd expected. "Any time," he said. It probably sounded flip, but he meant it.
    Starsky started the car, doubting Hutch wanted to hear any details as to why Jackson had came over attempting to cause problems.
    Hutch fiddled with a piece of torn upholstry for a second, then looked at Starsky. "What's that Jackson's problem, anyway?" he asked cautiously. "Is he just a shit disturber? He seemed to have a thing for you. He sounded like a jealous ex-boyfriend," he added with a bit of a smile. He left it a bit light in case Starsky wanted to shrug it off.
    "Basically just a shit disturber. He's the shining example of a 'macho' cop. Worked a case with him .. or at least part of it. Temporarily stuck being partners with him ..."
    "Ah," Hutch said as understanding dawned. In a way, he kind of *was* a jealous ex. "You didn't get along, I take it."
    "Not getting along is putting it lightly." Starsky said, with a rueful laugh. "The case we were on was ..." Starsky paled slightly thinking about the case. "Sickening ... and he treated it all like a game or something ... so I kinda had it out with him. We were assigned new partners .. and he wasn't too happy when I was the one left on the case ..."
    Hutch nodded his understanding. He'd known cops like that in his time. He changed the subject. "So where are you taking me to eat? Ye Olde Pit O' Grease?" he joked.
    "Nah, nothing that fancy." Starsky said with a grin. "Though since you are paying, we should go for steak dinner..."
    "I'd appreciate that, because if I'm paying I wouldn't mind eating something I can digest," he deadpanned.
    Starsky rolled his eyes, but didn't comment any further. Deciding on a place he figured they would both enjoy, a small Italian restaurant.
     After they ate, they decided to head back to see if the lab had had any luck indentifying any more of their nameless victims.
One more victim had been identified Marsha Dean, who was one of the most recent women to have arrived at the shelter.
They had an address on Marsha's ex. Hutch took Starsky by the wrist and looked at his watch. Letting go of his partner's hand, he said "We've got time to visit him tonight. You up for it?"
     "Let's go pay him a visit."
    They pulled up infront of the Deans' bungalow just as dusk was giving way to twighlight. They walked up the driveway and banged on the door. A man looked through a small window at eye-level in the door. "Yeah?" he said gruffly. Starsky and Hutch held up their badges. "Police, Mr. Dean," Hutch said wearily.
    "We'd like to ask you a few questions."
    "About what?" Dean asked suspiciously.
    "About your wife, Mr. Dean," Hutch informed him.
    "What about her?" Dean asked. "I haven't seen her in a week. She ran out on me."
    "We know that, Mr. Dean," Hutch said.
    "Then why are you looking for her here?"
    "We're not looking for *her*," Hutch explained. "We know where she is."
    Dean looked at them quizzically.
    "Look, Mr. Dean, why don't you just let us in and we can discuss this matter." Starsky said.
    "Discuss it? Why? Where is she?" Dean asked as he opened the door. He seemed close to becoming hysterical.
    "She's dead, Mr. Dean," Hutch told him gently, then his eyes hardened slightly. "But I think you already know that."
    Dean ran a hand through his hair as he seemed to digest Hutch's words. Suddenly he gave Hutch a rough shove into Starsky and ran past them out the door.
    Starsky drew his gun and took off after Dean before Hutch even had a chance to fully recover from the shove.
    Hutch regained his feet and followed Starsky and the assailant out the door. He couldn't see either of them right away. 'Great,' he thought. 'Hide and seek.'
    Starsky was close behind the suspect, and quickly gaining. In a few moments he caught up and grabbed the other man by the arm in attempt to stop him. Hutch caught sight of them a small distance away from him just in time to see Starsky catch up with Dean. Holding onto the man's left arm, Starsky spun him around. From his distance, Hutch saw the light glint off the blade they didn't know that Dean had with him before Starsky could possibly have been aware of it. "STARSKY!!!" Hutch shouted, but it was too late. In what almost seemed like slow motion, he watched Dean plunge the blade deep into Starsky's abdomen. As Starsky fell and Dean stepped back from his handywork, Hutch raised his weapon and fired, hitting Dean in the right shoulder and sending him sprawling to the ground. He ran up to the spot where the two men cluttered the ground like abandonned toys and, after kicking the knife away from Dean and searching his clothes to make sure there weren't anymore surprises hidden away there, he practically fell to his knees at Starsky's side. For a moment he didn't know what to do. He'd had first aid training, but this was overloading his senses. "Starsky?" he asked. It came out much more strained and pleading than he'd intended.
    Starsky slowly opened his eyes and looked at Hutch, his dark blue eyes clouded with pain. He hadn't even noticed the knife until the second before he had been stabbed. He had heard Hutch's shout, but hadn't understood exactly why. He figured Hutch had seen the knife before he had and had attempted to warn him. He groaned in pain, his right hand cleanched over the wound.
     "Just... lie still. I'll..." He held one hand over Starsky's, helping him put pressure on the wound. He glanced over his shoulder at Dean. He wasn't much concerned at the moment if they guy died. He was just worried he'd suddenly jump up and kill them both. Dean wasn't moving, however. He turned his eyes back to where his attention was already focused: Starsky. Without even thinking, he placed his free hand against his partner's head. He used it now to push the hair back from his forehead. "Don't worry," he said. "We'll get you to a hospital and you'll be fine."
    Starsky didn't even try to move, trusting Hutch to know what was best. He found Hutch's hand on his head to be comforting despite the intense pain the knife wound was causing. Starsky smiled at Hutch. "Thanks, partner."
    "Don't thank me!" Hutch joked, though there was no joy in it. It helped alleviate the tension of the situation. "I'm with you for *one* case and you get stabbed... I hope this isn't one of the regular features of our partnership."
     "Hope not." Starsky argeed, and grinned. "Though next time it's your turn to be the one who gets stabbed," he teased, though by no means meant it - he knew he'd rather be the one who was stabbed then to see Hutch get hurt.
    "Look," Hutch said. "I have to run over to the car and call an ambulance, or I'm going to have to carry your body to the morgue." The worry in his eyes surfaced. "Will you be okay on your own for a second?"
     "Yeah," Starsky said, his voice turned serious. "Don't worry," he told him, though his eyes asked for Hutch to hurry back, his eyes spoke of a need that could never be put into words.
    Hutch ran back to the car and flung the door open. He reached in a grabbed the CB. "Control, this is Zebra-3. Send backup and an ambulance to 37 Arbour Road. I have a man down. I repeat - Starsky is *down* and so is the suspect. Over."
    Control acknowledged that backup and the ambulance were on their way, but Hutch hardly waited for it and barely heard it as he ran back to where his partner lay on the ground.
    Starsky groggily opened his eyes when he heard Hutch return, staying awake was seeming to get harder with each passing second.
    Hutch glanced over his shoulder at their suspect as he knelt down at his partner's side, absently placing a hand in Starsky's curly hair. The knife was still on the ground, out of the psychopath's reach; the psychopath in question still lying still on the ground, but the steady up and down of his chest telling Hutch that he was fine, more-or-less. Probably better off than Starsky. He turned his worried gaze back to his partner's face.
    "Hell of a first day as partners, huh?' Starsky commented, his voice quiet. He clenched his eyes shut tightly as a sharp wave of pain tore through his body. He tried to take a breath to ease the pain and only ended up coughing.
    "Yeah, well.. as long as it's not the last, we should be able to make up for it," Hutch said, trying to sound less anxious than he felt.
     "Still gotta have that beer," Starsky said opening his eyes to look at Hutch. He tried to just relax and drawing the strength he needed from his partner - the strength his friend was offering.
    Sirens sounded in the distance and were quickly drawing closer. "Help's here," he said softly. "Any minute now. Just hang on for one more minute and you'll be fine."
    "'Kay," Starsky said, shivering slightly. He was feeling cold and he knew that was from the loss of blood. "Jus' don' go nowhere, 'kay?"
    "I'm not. Don't worry." He glanced nervously over his shoulder for the ambulance. It wasn't quite in sight yet. "Don't worry," he murmured to his partner. His mind was screaming "C'mon, c'mon, c'MON!!!!" silently to the ambulance.
    "Cold..." Starsky mumbled, wanting to do nothing more than go to sleep. But he knew if he did he might never wake up again and he wasn't ready to die - and really didn't want to die on his first day being partners with Hutch. It was something he had waited a long time for, even if he'd lost sight of that over the years.
    Finally, after a couple of minutes that seemed like eternity, the ambulance and several police cars came into view. Hutch breathed what must have been an audible sigh of relief. "You're okay, Starsk," he whispered. "Help's here - you'll be alright. Just do me one favour."
    "What'sthat?" Starsky mumbled, his words running together.
    "Don't die." He managed a strained smile. "That's not alot for a guy to ask of his partner, is it?"
    Starsky managed a weak smile. "Nope."
    The paramedics came running over and Hutch allowed them to squeeze him out. They were equipped to save Starsky's life. If he allowed them to do so, he could see his partner tomorrow for as long as he liked. Another couple of paramedics were checking out the prisoner, Hutch noticed, glancing over his shoulder momentarily before turning his full attention back to Starsky. One of the paramedics got up to get a gurney from the ambulance. Hutch hurried along beside him. "Is he going to be okay?"
    "I'm not a doctor," the paramedic said dismissively, but not unkindly.
    Hutch put a hand on the man's arm. "This isn't your first day on the job. Take an educated guess."
    There was a note of desperation in the policeman's voice that made the paramedic pause. "I think so. We've got the bleeding under control now. We'll get him back to the hospital. He *should* be okay - but don't quote me on that."
    Hutch allowed him to pull away and continue his work. He breathed slightly easier.
    Starsky could feel himself drifting and fought to stay awake, trying to move his head so he could see his partner, unable to see him he felt a sudden pang of panic - fearing that Hutch had left him. "HUTCH!" Starsky shouted for his partner as loud as he could - which wasn't too loud. Nor was it a very good idea, for it only caused more pain - though that didn't concern him in the least.
    Hutch heard the near-panicked shout and leaned over one paramedic's shoulder. "I'm still here! Don't worry. They're going to take you to the hospital now. I'll be waiting there to see you when you wake up, okay?" he told Starsky as the paramedics lifted him onto the gurney. He walked beside it, his hand on Starsky's arm, all the way over to the ambulance, gave it a last squeeze before the paramedics hoisted it in and slammed the doors. Hutch watched the ambulance speed off and stood a moment, still looking in the direction it had gone, drained completely. Then, throwing a glance over his shoulder at the uniformed police and paramedics dealing with the prisoner, he wandered over to the car - Starsky's car - and slid behind the wheel.
    Starsky felt the darkness over take his mind and body the second the doors of the ambulance closed, his last thought was of the promise he had made to his partner, and it was one promise he planned on keeping (he planned on keeping every promise he ever made to his partner).
    He wasn't sure how much time had past or how long he had been 'asleep' before the first bits of consciousness began to return. He was no longer cold and there was no pain - only a numb feeling where he had been stabbed.
    Hutch had sat in the waiting room for what seemed like hours or days or weeks. Finally the doctor came out and told him that Starsky would be fine. By the time Starsky regained consciousness, Hutch was sitting in a chair beside the bed, dozing off. Starsky slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the bright light of the room. He could sense that he wasn't alone in the room, somehow he knew his partner was there with him. He turned his head and looked at Hutch, not disturbing the sleeping man.
Hutch blinked his eyes open, realizing that he'd fallen asleep - again. Only this time, when he looked up, Starsky's eyes were open. He sat up in his chair. "Starsk? How are you feeling?"
    "Better," Starsky said and smiled at Hutch. "After all I made a promise."
    "Me too," he answered. "And here I am in all my glory," he added, joking.
     "Yeah, the white knight in all his glory," Starsky said, partly teasing, partly serious.
    Hutch noticed Starsky's eyes starting flutter shut again. He was exhausted himself. He leaned back in his chair - there was nothing more that needed said anyway. The silence wasn't awkward anymore. It was like before. He smiled at the thought. They were going to be okay.