This is a "What If?" story which relies on the events in the episode "Starsky's Lady." The story begins in the evening after the basketball game at the school where Terry, Starsky's girlfriend, works. Starsky and Hutch have finished their shift and are preparing for the evening.

Starsky's Lady: A What If Story

By

Katherine Atkins

David Starsky stopped his car in front of Venice Place, his partner's apartment. "Hutch said he had to stop at the grocery to get some fixin's for salad. I told him not to bother, but…"

"But he said you aren't the only one eating," his companion finished for him.

He smiled at her. "Right. He said at least you try to eat healthy."

She nodded. "And it's a real challenge with you around," she said good naturally as she put her hands on his arm and rested her cheek against his shoulder. "But I love challenges."

"And I love you, Terry," he whispered. He gathered her into his arms, but froze when the police radio sounded.

"All units in the vicinity of 990 Ocean, Jensen's Market, robbery in progress. Shots fired."

Starsky released his beloved and put the Tomato back in gear. "That's where Hutch was going."

The dark haired detective saw his partner's battered LTD in the grocery store's parking lot and his heart began beating way too fast. Terry saw it too, but she just put her hand on his arm and tried to smile encouragingly.

Starsky was out of the Torino almost before it stopped, fighting his way through the crowd. "Excuse me. Police. Let me through. Police." Terry was close behind him.

A small crowd was gathered in one aisle, silently watching two paramedics work on someone. Starsky's eyes swept the crowd, looking for a familiar blond head, but Hutch wasn't among the watchers. The detective took a deep breath and peered over the paramedic's shoulder. He heard Terry gasp as she saw the victim on the stretcher.

<No! Hutch>

The blond lay pale and still. A bandage covered the side of his head, and his face was drawn with pain.

"Is he gonna be all right?" Starsky could barely say the words to the paramedic who was tending to Hutch.

"Don't knoll. Looks like there's a bullet in his head."

<HUUUUTCH>

Starsky knelt beside his partner, gently touching his face. "Hey, Buddy."

Hutch's eyelids fluttered. In spite of his pain, he tried to reach out for the other's hand. "Starsk. It was…it was…" He closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

"Easy…easy." Starsky grabbed the flailing hand and squeezed it. "I'm right here."

One of the paramedics put a hand on Starsky's shoulder. "We really need to get him to the hospital."

Hutch heard and shook his head. His face screwed up in pain at the movement, but he swallowed again and opened his eyes, searching until they found Starsky's face. "Starsk. It was Prudhomme," he finally whispered. "Careful…might go after Terry…or you…"

Starsky's eyes widened, but he nodded. "I'll take care of it, partner. You just rest, okay?" He turned to Terry, who stood behind him, wiping her eyes. "Go with him, please. I gotta…"

She smiled. "I know. I'll take care of him."

Dave asked the witnesses to wait for a minute, then followed the paramedics and Terry to the ambulance. Before they put Hutch in the vehicle, he bent over him. "I'll see you later, Blondie."

"Careful…" Hutch muttered in a raspy whisper.

Starsky stood there, watching until the ambulance disappeared, then turned back to the store to get statements and begin filling out his report. He went to the store manager first.

"What happened?"

"Two guys. Came in, robbed the place."

"Anybody else hurt?"

"Nope. First thing they did was shoot him, like that's what they came for. He wasn't doing anything. Just standing in line to pay; his arms were full of stuff he was gonna buy. They didn't even give him a chance, just walked in firing. Then they just took the money and left."

Much later, Starsky he walked down the cold hospital corridor, hoping that the news was good. It had to be good. He was tired, but he knew it would be a long time before he'd get any rest. He'd spent the night interviewing witnesses and filing his report.

Terry was sitting in the surgical waiting area, looking worn out and very worried. She looked up when Starsky sat down beside her and leaned into his arms. "Hi."

"How is he?" Starsky put his arm around her shoulders, rubbing her arm.

She blinked rapidly, fighting tears of exhaustion. "I don't know. I've been here for hours, and nobody will tell me a thing. Not a thing."

"Listen. You're worn out. Go on home, get some rest. I'll call you when I know something."

"No. Best friends don't leave each other. I love Hutch, too. I want to know."

He sighed. "He'll be all right. He has to be all right."

They were sitting quietly, arms around each other, each lost in thoughts of Hutch, when soft footfalls and a throat was cleared. "Excuse me, I'm looking for Detective Starsky."

The dark haired man looked up as he and Terry separated and sat up straighter. "I'm Starsky. How's my partner?"

"I'm Dr. Quo. If you want to see Detective Hutchinson, please do so now. He desperately needs to rest, but he insists upon seeing you first."

"Will he be all right?"

"Detective, I'll answer your questions, I promise, but my patient comes first, and right now I want him to rest. Please see him, then come to my office. The nurse can tell you where it is."

"But…"

"Please, Detective. See him, then we'll talk."

Dave motioned for Terry to join him, and they started walking away.

"Detective?"

Starsky turned around. "Yeah?"

"He's in room 543."

Terry snickered and Starsky flushed a little. "Uh, thanks."

"Oh, and Detective?"

He turned around again, a 'now what?' expression on his face.

"When we talk, would you explain to me what a 'soapy scene' is?"

Terry looked confused, while Starsky just stared.

"He said you don't like them. That's why he asked me to talk to you, because he said he didn't think you could handle a 'soapy scene'."

A sound not unlike a sob escaped Starsky, who turned and straightened his shoulders. "Come on, I need to see my partner," he said to Terry.

Starsky hesitated in the doorway while Terry went to Hutch's bed. She bent over him, gently brushing the backs of her fingers against his cheek. "Hey, Handsome," she said with a weak smile.

He was so pale, and a small bandage covered the wound in his head. Other wise, there was little evidence of his trauma. The machines that Starsky had grown to loathe were not there. He almost wished they were.

Hutch's eyes were open, and somehow he managed a smile. He whispered, "Finally ditched Starsk and realized…realized I'm the one…right?"

<So that's the way he wants to play it. > "No way, Blondie," Dave argued as he moved to the other side of the bed. "She just has a thing for guys with bandages on their heads." He took Hutch's hand and squeezed, receiving a weak squeeze in response.

Hutch grinned, but he looked so tired. From sad experience, Starsky knew he was hanging on to consciousness by sheer will power. "Did…you find out anything?"

"Prudhomme's prints were on the cash register. We've got an APB out on him and his pal."

Hutch nodded. "Good." He glanced from one friend to the other. "How'd he get out?" His eyes closed. "Cabrillo Point, supposed…to…be…maximum security…" He was asleep, or at least Starsky hoped it was sleep.

Terry and Starsky stood at the bedside for a few moments, holding the injured man's hands and watching him sleep. Finally, reluctantly, Starsky let go of the big hand he held and whispered, "Let's go talk to the doctor."

Terry sat in the chair in front of the doctor's desk, but Starsky couldn't sit. He had to move, to do something, to erase the sound of the doctor's voice giving his partner and best friend a death sentence.

"The placement of the bullet makes it impossible to operate," she was saying in a cool, professional voice. "He could lie flat and immobile in the hospital bed until the bullet moves, or he can resume his life until it moves. Either way, he will die when it does move."

Starsky kept pacing. Terry spoke up quietly, "How long?"

"If he stays immobile, perhaps as much as a year. If he begins moving around, it could be a day, a week, a month, perhaps a year, although that is unlikely. We have no way of telling."

"And that's it. You're gonna die, Detective Hutchinson. There's nothin' we can do, Detective Hutchinson? That's it? You're just gonna give up?"

Terry stood and put a hand on his arm. "Dave."

"Detective, we will do everything we can. There is just very little knowledge in this area. Your partner has made his decision. If he had decided to stay here, we would do all we could to keep him as comfortable as possible. He has decided to leave. He'll sleep for several hours, but he'll be ready to leave late this afternoon. Even though he will not stay in the hospital, I have asked a colleague in the Midwest for a second opinion. It will be several days before I have an answer."

"He's leaving the hospital?" Starsky didn't even feel Terry's arm around his waist. He stared at the doctor. "There's nothing else you can do for him?"

The doctor shook her head. "I'm sorry, no."

Starsky and Terry stood in the corridor, staring at each other. "He's leaving. He's giving up."

She shook her head. "No, Dave. He's not giving up. He's choosing to live, while he can. Can't you see that?"

He nodded reluctantly. "I see that my partner may be dying, and there's nothing anybody can do about it."

Terry moved closer to him reaching up to wipe the tear that was coursing down his cheek. "Let's go to my place," she whispered. "I'll fix us some breakfast, then you can get some rest. You have to pick him up this afternoon."

He nodded. "Come back with me?"

"Sure."

That afternoon, Starsky let Terry off at the door of the hospital while he found a parking place. She went to Hutch's room, finding her friend sitting on his bed, waiting for her and Starsky.

She kissed his cheek. "Ready to go home?"

He nodded. He reached for her hands and held them, looking into her eyes. "Terry, you'll take care of Starsk for me, right?"

She nodded.

"He'll need you. This isn't easy for him," the blond whispered. He bowed his head.

She put a hand on his arm. "Or you."

He shrugged, refusing to make eye contact. "Maybe I should just go away. So he won't have to watch me…" His voice faded as he choked back a sob.

"No, that wouldn't be right. For either of you," she told him gently. "He needs to be with you now." She put her hand against his cheek raising his chin so she could look into tear brightened eyes. "And you need him, don't you?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "But, I keep thinking it would be easier on him. He thinks it's his fault, because it was Prudhomme… If I left…he wouldn't have to …" His voice trailed away as he looked up to see Starsky standing in the doorway. He'd heard at least part of the conversation, but Hutch couldn't tell how much.

Starsky walked into the room, his face flushed with anger. "Terry, I want to talk to Hutch. Alone."

She got up, patting Starsky's arm as she passed him. She didn't say anything, but her eyes begged Starsky to be easy on Hutch. He turned away and she left the room.

Hutch couldn't get the courage to look at his partner, but the dark haired man was silent for so long that he finally looked up. Starsky was glaring at him, his body ramrod straight, his arms folded against his chest. "Starsk?"

"How dare you, Partner?" Starsky's voice dripped cold anger. "How dare you decide that just walking out would be better for me, for us?"

Hutch looked contrite, but determined. "I just thought it might be easier…you…"

Starsky sat on the side of the bed, and framed the blond's tear streaked face with his hands. "Me and thee, remember, Partner? Us? Being there for each other. That's what kept us a…alive…all these years." Starsky's voice broke on the word 'alive', but he continued. "Don't take that away from me, Hutch. The only things that are keeping me sane right now are you and Terry. I need you here with me, Buddy. For as long as it takes, as long as we've got…" His voice broke again, and this time the tears he'd been holding back broke free.

Hutch gathered his crying partner into his arms. "Sh! It's all right. Let it out. It's okay. Let it out." Starsky cried into the blond's shoulder for several minutes, while Hutch rubbed his back in soothing circles and whispered encouragement to him. Finally, the dark head lifted. Starsky managed a tearful smile. "Isn't this supposed to be the other way around, Blintz?"

The blond detective smiled. "Hey, 'me and thee', remember. Whatever one of us needs, the other one is there to give it. Right?"

Starsky drew a ragged breath. "Yeah."

Hutch held him for another moment, but Starsky felt the tension in his partner's body and drew back. "What is it, Hutch? Are you in pain?"

Hutch shook his head. "No, I'm okay. I just…I don't know what to do, Starsky. The doctor says I can't go back to work. I feel fine, but Dobey refuses to listen to me. I argued with him for an hour before you got here, and he won't override the doctor."

"I know it's tough…" Starsky started to say, but Hutch cut him off with an icy blue glare.

"Don't do that, Starsk. We've been through too much together to do that kind of stuff. I can't just sit around waiting to die. I'll go crazy first." Hutch wiped at angry tears, like a little boy who doesn't want anyone to know he's crying.

Starsky nodded. "I know, Blintz. I talked to Dobey about that. I think I have an idea." He grinned. "I let Dobey think it's his, but I thought of it."

Hutch's features looked hopeful for the first time in what seemed too long a time. "Yeah?"

"It's Terry. Prudhomme is goin' after her next. I know that, just as well as I know your bowling average." Hutch glared, but he let it pass. "I want her to go to a safe house, but she won't. She says she won't give up her life because of him."

"So?"

"So, I'm putting her in protective custody. Hutchinson protective custody."

Hutch looked relieved but the expression was short-lived. Relief was replaced with doubt. "Starsk, I don't know. The doctor says it will be sudden and quick. I might not be exactly capable of… What if I'm…what if I pass out or something, when she needs me?" The blue eyes were worried and uncertain. "I don't know…"

"I do," Starsky asserted. "I know that you'll do everything you can to protect her. I know I have the best partner there is, and that you'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe. There's no one else I trust with Terry, Buddy. No one."

"Did you ask her? Do you think she'll be able to handle me following her around?"

Starsky leaned close and whispered conspiratorially. "I didn't tell her you were protectin' her. I told her I need her to keep an eye on you…"

Hutch looked disconcerted, then he smiled. "You are devious, Detective Starsky."

The dark-haired detective grinned. "Why thank you, Detective Hutchinson."

Hutch's smile faded. "I'm not a detective anymore."

"Of course you are. Dobey agreed to keep you on the precinct active duty list, assigned to "restricted duty."

Hutch thought of something else, and he sagged a little. "I can't protect anybody, Starsk. Dobey took my weapon."

"Your Magnum is in my car. He gave it to me to give to you." He shrugged innocently. "How can you be on any kind of duty without out your weapon?"

Hutch snorted. "Not possible. So, are we ready to go?"

Starsky frowned, suddenly serious. "Listen Babe. Maybe you should stay here. The doctors can take care of you…"

"No, Starsk. I'm not gonna lie around here and wait to…wait for something to happen. I'll go crazy first." The blond's jaw set stubbornly. "I want to go home."

Starsky put an arm around his partner's waist and helped him get off the bed. "Then let's get goin'. Terry's waitin'."

Once they were in the Torino, Hutch sat in the passenger seat with Terry next to him, her head on his shoulder. Hutch's long arm stretched across the back of the seat, his fingers resting lightly against Starsky's shoulder. They rode in silence, each lost in thought.

At Venice Place, Hutch got out and closed the door. He squatted at the curb, his hands resting on the top of the door after Terry rolled down the window. "Thanks for the ride. Terry, I guess I'll see you tomorrow." He stood, and made his way slowly to the door, his back stiff.

"Dave."

Starsky watched Hutch open the door and go in without looking back. "What?"

"I love you David Starsky," she whispered. "But if you let him go to that apartment and stay there all alone tonight, I'll never speak to you again."

"I know. I'll take you home, then come back."

At her apartment, he made sure she was safely inside the apartment. He kissed her quickly, then kissed her again, deepening the kiss as she melted against him. "I love you."

She leaned against with him. "It's all right. I'll be here, Dave. Hutch needs you, tonight."

He turned to leave, but his shoulders sagged and he turned back to her. "No, I can't leave you alone. What if, what if Prudhomme…?" He looked at her helplessly.

She felt a surge of sympathy for him, and sighed. "Okay, just for tonight, I'll go Jennifer's. I'll be all right there." She kissed him again. "I promise."

"I love you," he told her. "Call me at Hutch's when you get to Jennifer's." He turned back, as another thought occurred. "Listen, Terry. About school…"

"I know. If I keep teaching, I might endanger the children. I'll call in tomorrow, tell them I'm taking a few days off."

He smiled. "Good." Then he was gone.

Hutch couldn't hide his surprise when he answered Starsky's knock.

"Hey Blintz, Terry threw me out. Okay if I crash here?"

The blond shook his head, following his partner to the sofa. "Starsk, this isn't necessary. I'll be fine. You need to take care of Terry."

"Terry's okay. She went to Jennifer's for the night," the curly haired man assured him.

Hutch sighed. "Are you sure she'll be okay?" He settled on the sofa, his body slumping with fatigue and something else Starsky couldn't identify.

"I'm sure, Blintz. What's going on, Buddy. Why are you so down?"

The blond grinned a little. "You mean, besides the obvious?"

Starsky winced. "Yeah. Besides that?"

"I called my folks. They're real upset, of course. They said they'd try to come out here…'' Hutch rested his head on the back of the sofa.

"Try. They're gonna try?" Starsky couldn't help yelling.

Hutch shrugged. "It's real hard for my Dad to get away."

Starsky settled down on the sofa and put his arm around Hutch's tense shoulders. "I'll be here, Buddy."

Hutch moved his head to rest against Starsky's shoulder. "I know. That helps, Starsk, it really does."

They were silent for a few minutes. Then Hutch muttered. "Christine called. She said her schedule has changed, she's gonna be making a lot of overseas flights in the next few weeks. She…she says she won't be around much for awhile, but she'll call me when her schedule settles down."

Starsky stiffened. Terry had called Christine and told her about Hutch. And now she suddenly had a "change in schedule." "Don't worry about it, Blintz." He squeezed his partner's shoulder. "We don't need her."

Hutch moved closer into the safety of Starsky's embrace. "Right. Me and thee."

"You got it, Pal."

Hutch fixed a simple meal, and the two men ate and cleaned up the kitchen in companionable silence. Hutch turned on the TV, and both men stared at it for the rest of the evening, but neither could have said what they watched.

Starsky insisted that Hutch go to bed early, sure that the blond was more tired than he would admit. He knew he was right, when his partner didn't protest and slipped quickly into an exhausted slumber.

Sprawled on Hutch's sofa, Starsky woke from a sound sleep. At first he didn't know what woke him, then he heard the muffled footsteps headed for the front door. "Hutch?"

"Sorry…didn't…didn't mean to wake you."

"What do you think you're doin'? The doctor said you need to rest." Starsky turned on a lamp, letting his eyes adjust to the light.

"Sorry…" Hutch stood near the front door, fully dressed.

"Where are you goin'?"

"I'm…I want to go for a walk on the beach." Hutch spoke softly, but with determination.

"Come on Blondie. It's 4 o'clock in the morning," Starsky protested, standing in front of his partner.

"Yeah, but it's a pretty night. The stars are out…"

Starsky shook his head, putting his hand on a thin shoulder. "You need to rest, Blintz."

The blond shook his head. "I don't want to rest. I want to see the stars and…" His gaze met Starsky's, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I don't want to waste my time sleeping."

Starsky's face softened into a loving smile. "Sure. Let's hit the beach."

Hutch shook his head. "You don't have to go, Starsky. I'm just gonna walk for a little while. Stay here. Get some rest."

"You think I could rest with you out there in the dark, all alone, and Crazy George Prudhomme on the prowl? You can forget it, Blintz." Starsky shook the shoulder he held, gently. "Come on. Let's go."

"I'm sorry. I didn't think. Go back to sleep. I'll read or something," Hutch whispered, his blond head bowed. "You need to sleep, you have duty tomorrow."

"Hey, I'm ready for a walk," Starsky protested. He grabbed his jacket and Hutch's and put his arm around his partner, guiding him to the door. "Let's get out there before they turn the stars off."

They walked in silence for several minutes. The peaceful setting allowed them to forget their situation for a few minutes. After a time, they sat down shoulders touching, arms wrapped their knees, looking out on the moonlit ocean.

"Starsk?"

"Yeah, Blintz?"

"It's not your fault."

Starsky didn't reply.

"Starsky, you did the right thing. You arrested Prudhomme last year. You put him away," Hutch told him.

"Yeah, but if I'd done what I wanted to, he wouldn't be here now, and you wouldn't be…" Starsky's voice broke.

Hutch could help a small chuckle. "Yeah, I'd be visiting you in prison instead, and trying' to survive on the streets without you."

"But at least you'd be surviving," Starsky whispered. "Not…not…" Starsky couldn't continue, his words choked by the huge lump in his throat.

Hutch put an arm around his partner and pulled him close. "What ifs aren't gonna get us anywhere. Neither is feeling guilty about doing the right thing. Starsky, you're a cop. You did what you had to do," he said sincerely.

Starsky was silent once again. He just rested his head on Hutch's shoulder and sighed.

The two men watched the ocean, neither saying anything for a long time. Starsky slipped into an exhausted sleep, and Hutch held him, resting his cheek against his partner's dark, curly hair.

As the dawn broke, Starsky woke, rubbing his face. "What time is it?" he asked around a huge yawn.

Hutch pulled his partner's wrist to his eye level and consulted Starsky's watch. "6 AM. We have time for breakfast before you have to go on duty."

Starsky sighed. "Yeah, duty. And what are you going to do today?"

"I'm a man of leisure. Light duty, remember? I think I'll do something fun. Maybe I'll cook Terry something healthy. Tofu pizza or artichoke lasagna. " He laid back in the sand, his hands behind his head, grinning at his glowering partner. "I just don't know."

Starsky reached down and pulled him to his feet, but carefully. "Come on Blintz. I think you need to get some sleep."

Hutch grinned, but the flash of pain in the blue eyes tore at Starsky's heart. The dark haired detective clenched his jaw trying to maintain control. "You can fix me some breakfast, but no protein drinks."

The blond shrugged, pretending to frown. "Starsky, you're hopeless."

Starsky threw an arm around his partner's shoulders as they headed back to Venice Place. "'Bout time you noticed, Blintz."

As the two men reached Hutch's front door, it opened to reveal a familiar thin form. Huggy Bear was holding a towel to his face, trying to stop the bleeding from a cut.

Starsky took Huggy's chin in his hand and examined his friend's battered face. "What happened to you?"

"I had a visitor, or rather two of them. They wanted me to convey a message to a pair of policemen I know, a matched pair of Starsky's and Hutch's."

Hutch looked worried. "Who were they, Hug?"

"Crazy George Prudhomme and his equally crazy partner. They wanted me to be sure to let Starsky, here, know that they won't stop until he's lost everyone he loves. Then it will be his turn."

Hutch took a deep breath and put a hand on Starsky's shoulder. "Easy, partner." He grabbed Huggy's arm and led him toward the bathroom. "Come on, Hug. I'll put some ointment on that cut."

Huggy resisted for a moment, his eyes locking with Starsky's. "They said your girlfriend is next."

Starsky nodded. It was what he and Hutch were expecting. He watched them go, smiling at his partner's willingness to take care of anyone who was hurt and at the same time trying to control his rage at George Prudhomme's insane desire for revenge.

It was early evening when Starsky leaned against Terry's door, weary to the bone. He'd spent a long day checking dead-end leads on George Prudhomme's whereabouts. When she answered the door, he walked in without a word. He took her into his arms and just held her for a long moment. "Where's your bodyguard?"

"Don't worry, he's not slacking off. I sent him home after you called to say you were on your way, the tenth phone call today, I might add. He wanted to get ready for the Monopoly marathon tonight."

"Oh. Yeah. I forgot." He sighed.

"If you're too tired, I can call Hutch…" she offered.

He shook his head, his arms tightening around her. "No. I want to see him, anyway." He pulled back. "I called several times, but you weren't here or at Hutch's. So what did you and the Blintz do today?"

"Well, we went by the school."

"You didn't…Hutch didn't try to play basketball?"

"No. He was helping Sally, showing her some moves with the pom poms. You should have seen him, Dave. He was so funny. The kids were in hysterics. And Sally was so excited." She smiled at the memory.

"Then what?"

"I applied for an indefinite leave of absence, and it was granted."

"Good. What else?"

She shrugged. "We ran some errands."

He looked at her suspiciously. "What kind of errands?"

"Maybe you should ask Hutch," she teased.

"I'm askin' you," he whispered as he pulled her back into his arms. They stood together, holding each other close. "Terry?"

She sighed. "Why can't I resist you?" she wondered. He started to say something, but she shook her head. "Don't say it, Dave."

He tightened his embrace and grinned. "So, what did you do?"

"You won't like it."

"Tell me," he insisted.

She pulled away and led him to the sofa. She pushed him down and sat beside him, taking his hand in hers and putting her head on his shoulder. "We went to a funeral home."

He stiffened. "What?"

"He doesn't want you to have to take care of things after…when…if something happens. So we went to a funeral home, one of those places that let's you make 'pre-arrangements'."

Starsky was silent.

"And we went to see his lawyer."

Dave looked at her. "Why?" He couldn't help asking, even though he thought he knew the answer.

"He wanted to update his will. He's going to ask Captain Dobey to be the executor so you won't have to do it."

Starsky stood up. He couldn't sit any longer, listening to Terry's sweet voice talking about Hutch trying to make things as easy as possible for him. "Anything else?"

She grinned, but he didn't see the mischief in her eyes. "Let's go. We have a date for a Monopoly game. We don't want to be late." As she headed for the door, she whispered, "He's leaving you his car."

Starsky just rolled his eyes. "Wonderful."

Once they were settled in the Torino, headed for Hutch's, she said, "Dave, I'm worried about him."

"Me, too."

"No, I mean, he seems so tired. He doesn't want to sleep. He says if he doesn't have much time left, he doesn't want to waste it sleeping."

"I know. He told me."

"We went one other place today. We went to the hospital. He wanted to talk to the doctor."

Starsky glanced at her. "About what?"

" She couldn't give him much information after he was shot, but she told him to check back after she had time to do some research. So today we went to check with her. He wanted to know what he could expect in the way…when it happens…he wanted to know what will happen. And he wanted to know if she had a better idea of how long…"

"What did she tell him?"

"Nothing specific, really. She says she thinks it will be soon, and she hasn't heard anything from the colleague she sent Hutch's records to…"

Starsky tensed but he kept his focus on the road ahead. "Any thing else?"

"She said he probably wouldn't experience much in the way of warning. His hands and feet might start tingling or go numb, he could lose his eyesight, and he might experience dizziness…she didn't really know. Symptoms can vary from person to person. Fortunately, this doesn't happen a lot, and there isn't really much information available. But once he starts experiencing symptoms it means the bullet has begun to move, and things will happen swiftly." She moved closer, resting her cheek against his upper arm.

"Thanks," he whispered. "Thanks for helpin' him, today."

She smiled, rubbing her cheek against his arm. "I love you."

"Me, too," he answered. He stopped the car in front of Hutch's place and pulled her into his arms, holding her fiercely. "Terry, if…when…after I get Prudhomme, I'm leaving. I'm quittin' the force and…I think I want to leave here. Get away. Start fresh. Will you come with me?"

Her face was hidden against his chest, but she whispered, gently, "It won't be the same without him, will it?"

Starsky stiffened, but he relaxed immediately. "I can't, Terry. I can't do it without him, not here. Maybe if I try someplace else…"

She lifted her face, her eyes shining with tears. "I'll go with you, David Starsky. Don't think you can get away from me that easily."

He smiled, an expression she hadn't seen since Hutch was shot. "Did I tell you I love you?"

She shook her head. "It was at least five minutes ago. "

He grinned. "I'll try to do better." His expression sobered. "Terry, don't tell Hutch that I'm thinkin' about quittin', okay?"

She nodded. "Okay."

The Monopoly marathon was short-lived. Hutch was bleary-eyed with exhaustion when Terry and Starsky arrived. Starsky insisted that the tired man sit on the sofa while he and Terry completed dinner preparations. It was all Hutch could do to keep from falling into his spaghetti during their dinner.

He insisted they begin the Monopoly game, sitting next to Starsky on the floor, their backs against the sofa. After only two rounds, Hutch's head was resting on Starsky's shoulder, and Terry called the game with a shrug and a smile. Hutch didn't wake up when Starsky pulled him up and moved him to the sofa. He curled on to his side, his head resting on Starsky's lap. Resting his hand on Hutch's cheek, Starsky whispered, "Go ahead and crash on Hutch's bed. I'm gonna stay out here with him."

Terry kissed both men and went quietly into the sleeping area.

Hutch's restless movements woke Starsky late in the night, or early in the morning, Starsky wasn't sure. "Sh! Blintz. I'm here. It's okay."

"Starsk?" Hutch's voice sounded weak and uncertain in the darkness. "Starsk is that you?"

Fear clutched at Starsky's heart. "Yeah, Buddy. It's me. Are you okay?"

Relief flooded the curly haired man as Hutch's head nodded. "Yeah. I'm okay. Are you?"

"Sure. I'm fine." He put his hand against Hutch's cheek, surprised to find it wet. "Hutch?"

"I had a dream. I dreamed…I…Prudhomme killed you…I tried to stop him but I couldn't…I tried, Starsk."

"It's okay. It was only a dream, Blondie. I'm here. Terry's asleep in your bed. We're all safe," he assured his partner.

"Safe…" Hutch muttered, already falling back to sleep.

Starsky patted his partner's cheek, glad that he was getting some rest. But he spent the rest of the night watching over Terry and Hutch.

Another day of chasing down leads to nowhere exhausted Starsky. Dobey sent him home early, telling him to take a couple of days off. When Starsky protested, Dobey promised to let him know if any information on Prudhomme surfaced, but still insisted that his dark haired detective take some time off.

Starsky bounded into Hutch's apartment and found Terry and Hutch working at the dining room table, brown and blond heads bent over a stack of paper. "Hey, what's goin' on?" he asked.

Terry looked up with a welcoming smile. Hutch looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "What's goin' on?" Starsky asked again.

"We're making a list," Terry told him. Hutch kept his head bowed over the paper he'd been writing on.

"What kind of list?" Starsky asked suspiciously.

Hutch sighed. "It's a list of my stuff, and who I want it to go to," he told his partner, reluctantly.

The dark haired man took a deep breath, but said calmly. "Good idea." He went to Terry and bent to kiss her cheek. "Listen, Dobey gave me some time off. How about we do something. Have a picnic, or go to a museum, or something?"

Hutch couldn't hide his surprise. "A museum? You hate museums."

"Yeah, but you and Terry don't," Starsky admitted. "I can stand it if you can."

Hutch was shaking his head. Starsky moved around the table and squatted beside his chair. "Hutch, I want us to do something. Something we can all enjoy. Isn't there something, something you'd like to do?"

Pale blue eyes, bright with tears, met darker blue eyes, which were also even brighter than normal. "Starsk, you don't have to do this. You look like you should take a nap."

"I want to go somewhere, Blintz. Isn't there something you'd like to do?"

Hutch shrugged. "I was thinking…remember the beach we found, the one with no houses near it? We haven't been there in a while, and it's so beautiful. I'd…I'd like to see it again," he said, softly.

Terry spoke up, trying to lighten the moment. "Great! What shall we take? I know there's plenty of desiccated liver in the refrigerator."

Hutch grinned as Starsky lowered his head and muttered, "What have I done?"

"Don't worry, Starsk. I have some 'butterfly bones' all ready for you." He put a grateful hand on Starsky's shoulder and grinned. "Come on, let's get this picnic on the road."

The beach was as beautiful as Hutch remembered. He took off his shoes and tested the water. It was warm, warm enough for a short swim, anyway. He breathed in the clean salt air and settled onto the blanket he'd spread on the sand, sitting with his arms wrapped around his legs. He grinned at Starsky, who was chasing Terry up and down the sparkling sand. He laughed out loud when Terry turned on the curly haired man and pushed him down into the sand.

When two sand-covered people came to sit beside him, he grinned and suggested, "Let's take a swim."

His suggestion was met with silence. Surprised, he looked at his partner. "Something wrong, Starsk?" he asked concerned at the worry in Starsky's features.

"Uh, Blintz. I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why not?" Hutch was getting angry, and he didn't bother to control it.

"Well, the water's kind of cold. I just don't think it's a good idea," Starsky said, lamely.

Hutch's eyes narrowed. "You mean you don't think it's such a good idea for me, don't you?" he asked quietly.

Neither man noticed when Terry stood up and started walking down the beach.

"Look Blinz, you know what the doctor said. No excitement. No undue exertion. I just think it would be better if you didn't…"

"Starsk. You can't protect me from everything. I'm not gonna let you wrap me up and keep me safe," Hutch protested. "Terry, tell him." He looked around. "Where'd she go?"

Both men stood, looking around. They were trying to determine which direction she'd taken when they heard a scream.

"That way!" Hutch said, taking off down the beach as another scream sounded.

Hutch ran up the beach, closely followed by, then passed by Starsky. Hutch faltered, fighting a wave of dizziness. He kept running, deliberately pushing away the thoughts the dizziness evoked. Instead he concentrated on getting to Terry and helping Starsky. Losing Terry would kill his partner, and Hutch was determined to keep that from happening. Seeing Starsky up ahead, rounding a large sand hill, the blond changed direction to take the hill from the other side.

Starsky stopped, frozen by the sight of George Prudhomme pulling Terry toward a waiting car. She was struggling, but he held a gun to her head and his other arm was around her neck, relentlessly dragging her toward the car.

"Police! Freeze!" Starsky called, his steady hands clutching his gun.

"You won't shoot me, Starsky. You've already proven what a coward you are," Prudhomme taunted. "I'm gonna kill her, just like I killed those two cops. Just like you killed Lonnie." He grinned. "Put the gun down, or I'll do her right here."

Starsky's grip didn't waver, as he kept his eyes and the gun on Prudhomme. If necessary, he would shoot. He just needed a clear shot. Just one second of inattention…"It's okay, Terry," he called. "He won't make it. You'll be safe in a minute."

Prudhomme just chuckled as he pulled the frightened woman closer to the car. Prudhomme's accomplice was in the driver's seat, revving the motor. He reached back to open the back door on the driver's side, so Prudhomme could drag Terry into the vehicle. He hunched over the wheel, ready to make a quick getaway.

"Let her go, Prudhomme."

"Hutchinson." The way the crazed man spat the name made it sound like a curse. Hutch stood in front to the car, his weapon weaving from Prudhomme to the car's driver and back again. Prudhomme was caught between Hutch's Magnum and Starsky's Beretta. Abruptly, he let go of Terry, pushing her toward Starsky and dove into the car. "Get us out of here!"

Starsky had rushed forward and caught Terry, but it took him a moment to steady her and get his own balance. When he was able to look around, his horrified gaze locked on the getaway car speeding toward a determined blond figure. "NO! HUTCH! GET OUT OF THE WAY!!!"

Hutch fired once, but the car kept coming, in spite of the shattered windshield. At the last possible moment he lunged to the side, narrowly missing being thrown across the hood of the speeding vehicle. He landed in the sand and was still.

"No."

Starsky barely noticed Terry's soft cry. He spread his legs, steadying himself at he raised his weapon, holding it with both hands. Taking a deep breath, he shot out the rear tires of the fleeing Buick. The car careened to a stop. The driver was thrown against the steering wheel and then was still. Prudhomme threw open the door, fired a wild shot in Starsky's general direction, and ran down the beach.

The dark-haired detective was barely conscious of Terry's running to the fallen blond as he took off after his tormentor. A quick check told him that the wrecked car's driver was unconscious. Starsky quickly used the man's belt to secure his wrists to the steering wheel and took off down the beach.

Prudhomme was running, firing an occasional shot over his shoulder, but he was no match for an enraged, healthy policeman. Starsky caught him with a flying tackle, then wrestled him to lie face down in the sand. He roughly pulled his prisoner's arms behind him and cuffed him. He flipped the man over to lie on his back and held his gun inches from the snarling lips. Starsky looked in Prudhomme's crazed eyes, and honestly didn't know what he was going to do. If Hutch had been there, he would have told him to put the gun down, to take his mentally ill prisoner in. Hutch was his rock. He was the one who reminded Starsky of procedure and kept at him about doing his job. He was the one who had supported Starsky when Prudhomme was killing cops, and it was his belief in his partner that had helped Starsky keep from killing Prudhomme then.

But Hutch wasn't here, now. He was… Starsky closed his eyes for a moment, trying to block out the image of Hutch lying face down in the sand, his body still… "Come on Prudhomme. I ain't gonna do what you want me to do. I ain't gonna kill ya." He jerked Prudhomme to his feet and pushed him back toward the wrecked Buick. "At least, not until I know how Hutch is."

Starsky stopped at the getaway car to check his other prisoner and handcuff Prudhomme to the steering wheel, then he ran down to the beach.

Terry was sitting in the sand, Hutch's head in her lap. She looked up when he approached, her eyes bright, her beautiful features a mask of worry.

Starsky squatted next to Hutch. "Hey, Partner?"

Blond lashed fluttered. Hutch opened his eyes. "Did…did you get him?"

Starsky kept a wary eye on Prudhomme, but he smiled. "I got him."

"Good. Sorry…couldn't help…dizzy." "Hutch's eyes opened wide, and he reached out, trying to find his partner. Starsky caught his hand and held it. "Prudhomme…Starsk? Starsky…where? Starsky you didn't…" Hutch muttered.

Terry and Starsky's gazes met over the long form of their friend. " We got him. I'm right here, Blintz. And so is Prudhomme. He's all ready to go back where he belongs," the dark-haired man whispered, trying desperately to keep the worry out of his voice. "Everything's okay."

Hutch smiled, loosening his grip as he lost consciousness.

The next few hours were a blur for Starsky. Calling for an ambulance for Hutch and the driver. ("Two ambulances, I said. Hutch ain't ridin' with that lowlife.") Calling for a black and white to pick up Prudhomme, and telling Dobey what had happened. Following Hutch's ambulance to the hospital, wondering if his partner was still alive.

Waiting in the hospital corridor for word on Hutch was agony for both Terry and Starsky. They held on to each other, not knowing whether they wanted to see Dr. Quo or not. As long as they didn't know for sure how Hutch was, they had hope. Neither was ready to give it up.

Starsky was using the pay phone, telling Captain Dobey that they hadn't heard any word on Hutch, when Terry touched his arm and whispered, "Dave, the doctor's here."

"Uh, Captain. Hutch's doctor wants to talk to me. I'll…I'll let you know. Okay?"

Dobey's voice suddenly wasn't steady. "I'll be here, Starsky. You call me."

Starsky turned, taking a deep breath. "How is he?"

Dr. Quo actually smiled. "Your partner must have a very hard head. He seems to be fine, although he hasn't been sleeping much, or eating. He's exhausted, and mildly dehydrated. But, otherwise, he's fine."

"Fine?"

She shook her head. "Fine, for now. There is no change in his condition. The bullet just has not begun to move, yet. He still has some time. I'm sorry I cannot tell you how much time he has."

Starsky's smile lit up the area. "But, for now, he's okay?"

"Not okay. But, not as bad as I feared when you brought him in," she told him. "He's sleeping, but I think he will like it if you are there when he wakes up." She patted Starsky's arm. "Just don't tire him out. I want him to stay overnight, but it should be all right to take him home tomorrow."

Dr. Quo watched Starsky take Terry into his arms and whirl her around several times, repeating, "He's okay. He's okay!" She walked away shaking her head, but with a smile on her face.

Terry tried to calm him down, laughing as she did so. "Dave, he's still…"

He put her down, his expression becoming more somber. "I know. But, we've got time. More time. I'll take it, Terry."

"So will I," she agreed. She held out her arm, and he took it, escorting her to his partner's room. The say down on either side of his bed, watching him sleep.

Hutch woke slowly, his head tossing on the pillow. Starsky held his hand, while Terry stroked his hair and told him everything was okay. The blond's eyes opened. "Thought…thought I was dead," he muttered.

Starsky grinned at him. "The doctor says you've got a hard head. I could have told her that."

Hutch managed a smile. "I'm okay?"

The dark-haired man nodded. "You can go home tomorrow, if you promise not to pull any more stupid stunts."

"Stupid?" Hutch bristled, ready to protest, but Terry put her hand on his forehead. He looked at her and winked. His eyelids fluttered as he slipped back into sleep.

"Listen, Terry, I gotta go down to the station. I have to file a report…you know. Will you stay with him?"

"Sure. I'll be here when you come back."

He went to her and bent over her, whispering something in her ear. She looked at him, her eyes bright, her face radiant with love. "Of course, I will, Friend. Did you doubt it?"

He shook his head. "I just needed to make it official, I guess. Don't tell Hutch if he wakes up. I want us to tell him together."

"Okay." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Dave, are you still thinking about…you know."

He shrugged. "Yeah, but just thinking. I won't make a decision until we talk about it. I want to see what happens…" He looked at his sleeping partner. He kissed Terry's cheek and left, quickly.

Starsky was putting the finishing touches on his report when his phone rang. "Starsky."

"Dave…"

"Terry. What's wrong?"

He could hardly understand her. She was crying, crying hard. "Dave…I…Hutch…get here."

"No!" He slammed the phone down and ran to his car, his heart in his throat. No. Not now. Please not now. We have time. Just a little more time. He raced the Torino through the streets, Mars light flashing, siren wailing, heedless of everything but the need to get to his partner. Hang on Hutch. Please. Don't leave without saying goodbye.

"Zebra Three, come in. Zebra Three, please respond." Starsky ignored the call, concentrating on getting through the traffic that was keeping him from Hutch. "Zebra Three respond. Captain Dobey wants to talk to you."

He stopped the car at the Emergency Room entrance, not bothering to turn off the engine. He didn't close the door either, just jumped out and flung himself through the entrance doors. The elevators were stopped on upper floors, and he didn't even slow down as he threw open the stairwell door and took the stairs two at a time.

No one tried to stop him as he ran past the nurse's station and paused to open the closed door to Hutch's room. He stopped on the threshold, frozen by the sight of the blond man seated on the edge of the bed, holding Terry's hands as he talked quietly to her.

The fair head came up, and Hutch read the anguish and anxiety in his partner's blue eyes, and immediately knew what had happened. Without a word he let go of Terry and held up his arms, and Starsky walked blindly into them, not even seeing the other people standing near the bed.

Hutch looked at Dr. Quo. "Can you give us a few minutes?"

"Of course." The doctor, and the man with her left, closing the door behind them.

Starsky was holding his partner tightly, his face buried in the hospital gown Hutch wore. It took a few minutes for him to calm enough to hear Terry's murmured, "I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I didn't mean to scare you."

Hutch was holding him, rubbing his hands up and down his back, and Starsky finally made out the words he was repeating. "It's okay, Starsk. It's gonna be okay. I'm gonna be okay."

"What. What did you say?" the dazed man asked, pulling back so he could see Hutch's face.

Terry broke in eagerly, while Hutch just looked at him with a broad smile. "Dr. Quo's friend looked at Hutch's records. He reached the same conclusions she did."

Now Starsky was really confused. Why were they so happy? He shook his head. "Huh?"

"But he showed my records to one of his friends, and he says he thinks that the bullet can be surgically removed," Hutch said, happily. "It's a little tricky, but he says he thinks it can be done."

Starsky's eyes narrowed. "What kind of odds does he give you?"

Hutch shrugged, no longer looking at his partner. "Almost 50-50," he said softly.

"Almost 50-50?"

"Starsky, it's the best and only chance I've got. That was the surgeon, the man with Dr. Quo. He's ready to operate the day after tomorrow. I'm going for it," Hutch told him. He set his jaw, ready for an argument if necessary.

But Starsky only smiled. "Of course you do, Blintz. You couldn't do anything else."

"Dr. Cayce says it'll probably take several hours, but he thinks that Hutch will come through fine." Terry added.

"Dr. Cayce?"

"Yeah, you know Starsk. He's the neurosurgeon who's gonna operate. His name's Cayce, Ben Cayce. He's real nice. Maybe you should open the door, so you can meet him."

Two days later, Starsky and Terry were waiting for Hutch to wake up after his surgery. Dr. Cayce had assured them that the surgery went very well, but neither of Hutch's friends would be sure until he woke up. Dobey and Huggy were patrolling the corridor outside ICU and the switchboard operators were frantically trying to field the many inquiries about the blond's condition.

The long body stirred, and Hutch moaned softly.

"Easy, Blintz. Take it easy," Starsky soothed. "You're gonna be fine, but the doc says you shouldn't be movin' around, not for a couple of days."

Hutch started to nod, but instantly regretted the move and whispered, "I'm gonna be okay?"

"You're gonna be great. It'll take some time, but you'll be fine. And you better hurry up, 'cause I got a job for you."

"Yeah? What job is that?" the blond mumbled.

"Best Man."

-END-

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