False Accusation (chapters 13 - 18)

  by Lutra Cana  (07/23/2000)

 

Starsky followed the sound of laughter to the kitchen where he found Helen and Hutch up to their elbows in the double sink.  He smiled at the sight of the two blond heads bent over their task and walked over to find out what the mother and son were doing.  Peering in the sink, Starsky saw that the side Helen was working in was full of lettuce and the one Hutch was splashing around in contained a myriad of other vegetables. 

 

Hutch looked over his shoulder at Starsky.  "Well it's about time you got down here, buddy.  We're getting dinner ready and we could use a hand."  He flicked some water at Starsky and grinned when he jumped.

 

Starsky glared at Hutch then grinned.  "Watch it, blintz.  I'm still pretty good with a damp dishtowel, ya know.  Helen, what can I do to help you?"  He reached over Hutch's hands and snagged a green bean, "accidentally" brushing his partner's hand.  Crunching on the bean, Starsky leaned against the counter and tried to ignore the light blush that covered Hutch's cheeks.

 

"Why don't you take over preparing the lettuce, David, while I get the spaghetti sauce ready."  Helen shook the water off her hands and dried them on a towel lying beside the sink.  "Ken tells me that you like Italian food."

 

Starsky grinned happily as he took his place at the sink beside Hutch who was peeling carrots.  "Yes, ma'am.  I love Italian food.  Guess it comes from the time my Grandmother lived over an Italian restaurant when I was a kid...."  His voice faltered as he heard Hutch saying the last few words with him.  Bumping his partner with his hip, he shook his head, "Oh, be quiet.  It's the truth."  Turning his back as much as possible on Hutch's grin, he continued to talk to Helen.  "How come you're making dinner so early?  It's only," he looked up at the wall clock and was surprised at the time, "three o'clock."  He and Hutch had been upstairs longer than he thought.  Starsky felt his own face redden a bit.  He tried to concentrate on laying the clean lettuce leaves in neat little rows on the dishtowel spread out for that purpose beside the sink.

 

Helen was busy pulling things from the refrigerator's freezer compartment.  "Richard and I are invited to drinks at a business associate's home tonight.  The company has been trying to land a contract with the man's shipping firm for months now, and Richard doesn't want to miss out on what may be our last chance.  Especially with us leaving on Sunday.  We have to be there by seven."  She pushed a few cartons around in the freezer, then stood with her hands on her hips.  "Oh...oh...bother."  Starsky looked in surprise at Hutch when he heard his partner's swallowed snicker.

 

"What's the matter, Mom?"  Hutch asked innocently.

 

"I thought I had a package of hamburger in here, but it's gone.  And we can't have spaghetti sauce without it."  Helen turned back towards the pair at the sink.  "Ken, would you mind running down to the market and getting some?"

 

Hutch picked up the discarded towel and wiped his hands.  "Sure, Mom.  You still using the same butcher?"

 

Starsky lost track of what the two were saying as he watched how Hutch moved.  He'd always liked the way Hutch did things.  For a big man, and a confirmed klutz, his partner could be very graceful.  Like how his hands - musician's hands - could punch out a man half again his size yet be so gentle.  Starsky shivered as he watched Hutch's hands carefully drying themselves on the pale yellow towel, long fingers appearing and disappearing in its folds.  He remembered how those hands had felt on his skin and against his body. 

 

Losing himself in his admiration, Starsky felt mesmerized by how the afternoon sun streaming across the kitchen seemed to search Hutch out.  How it flowed around him, shining in his hair and etching his tall, long-limbed body with a kind of silvery aura.  For the few minutes that Hutch stood there, talking to his mother, Starsky felt as if Hutch were part of the sun itself and had found his way into Starsky's soul.  Starsky's breath quickened as he imagined all that light and grace wrapping itself around him.  Pushing its way into his body. 

 

It was Hutch's big, warm hand on his shoulder that finally brought Starsky out of his rapture and back into the rather ordinary here and now.  Grinning self-consciously, Starsky blinked and looked up into Hutch's knowing eyes. 

 

"I won't be very long.  Don't give my mom any trouble."  Hutch's words were said in jest, but it was the unspoken ones that Starsky heard.  Tonight.  We'll be all alone in this house tonight. 

 

Starsky's body may have been standing at the sink, but his mind followed his heart out the door.        

 

He started peeling carrots in earnest, hoping that Helen wouldn't notice how his hands trembled or the besotted look that he sure was on his face.  Deciding that this might be a good chance to learn more about his partner, Starsky started asking innocent sounding questions.

 

"Hutch told me that you've not been in this house long.  What made you move?"  Carrots done, Starsky started snapping the ends off the beans.

 

Helen rattled pots for a few minutes before she answered.  "After Katie married, the house seemed to be too big.  I know that this one is actually bigger, but Richard and I decided that we needed to sell the old one.  It's hard to explain.  The other house was too full of memories that both of us - all of us, really - needed to get away from."  She kept her back towards Starsky.  But he could see by the set of her shoulders that she was uncomfortable with the topic.  Helen continued in a brighter voice.  "Besides, this house is closer to Richard's office and Karl's family lives just a couple of blocks away.  Katie and Dennis are close by too, so it was a good decision all the way around."

 

Starsky watched Helen as she dumped frozen sauce in a pot.  Come on, Helen.  Tell me what made Hutch run all the way to California to get away from you.  Hoping he wasn't pushing too hard, Starsky continued with the innocent act.  "Hutch said that he thought maybe you were hoping that he'd move back home.  That's why you bought the bigger house."  Helen turned to face him and her expression made him wish he'd never started the conversation.

 

Blinking her eyes against what looked suspiciously like tears, Helen stared at him.  Looking as if she were trying to judge how much to tell this virtual stranger in her house.  Or how much he already knew.  "Maybe once.  When Ken first started college, we had high hopes that he'd become a lawyer like Karl.  Or maybe join his father in the family company.  Richard had even started the legal work to get the company's name changed to Hutchinson and Son."  She smiled sadly.  "But after everything that happened, after he left for Los Angeles...well, it almost broke Richard's heart.  It's only been in the last few years that Ken and his father have been able to be more than just civil to each other."  Helen turned back to her cooking.

 

"They hardly spoke for a long time.  Both of them are very stubborn men."  She smiled thinly over her shoulder at Starsky.  "I'm sure you know that about your partner."  Starsky nodded, not wanting her to stop talking.  Helen looked away again.  "Richard would never tell his son how proud he was of him that he turned his life around like he did when he became a police officer.  Or how worried he was about him.  Ken would call home once in a while to talk to me or I'd hear he'd called Katie but he wouldn't talk to his father."  Helen put down the spoon she was stirring the sauce with and walked over to Starsky.

 

She smiled at him.  Taking the beans out of his hands, she laid them on the counter and took his hands in hers.  "I know we have you to thank for Ken making peace with his dad.  He told me once about how much you missed your father and how it made him realize how quickly someone could be taken away.  Ken phoned his father one night and the two of them talked for hours.  It was right after you were poisoned.  Ken was so shaken by almost losing you that it made him realize life is very short, and very precious, and that love should never be wasted."

 

Starsky froze in shock as Helen wrapped her arms around him, drawing him against her in a hug.  "Thank you for giving us back our son, David.  Thank you for keeping him safe.  And for loving him."  Starsky smiled to himself and returned the hug. 

 

The doorbell ringing startled both of them.  Helen let Starsky go with a little pat on the back.  Wiping at her face, she smiled at him.  "Silly me.  David, would you please see who that is?  I'll be right there."

 

Leaving Helen to collect herself, Starsky went to answer the door.  The bell rang again just as he entered the foyer.  "Hold your horses, I'm coming."  Muttering, Starsky grabbed the knob and opened the door to find the last two people on earth he wanted to see right then.

 

Inglehart and Cruthers.

 

Cruthers grinned wolfishly at Starsky while Inglehart simply stared disdainfully.  "Hello, Mr. Starsky.  You're just the person we wanted to see."  Cruthers seemed to be enjoying himself much too much for Starsky's liking.

 

Trying to pretend a nonchalance that he didn't feel, Starsky leaned against the doorjamb.  "What do you two want?  We're kinda busy right now."  Go away.  Just go away.  The little voice in Starsky's head was very close to gibbering.

 

Inglehart pulled a folded piece of paper out of an inner jacket pocket.  "I told you we'd be back with a warrant before dinnertime."

 

Helen's little gasp alerted Starsky to her arrival on the scene.  Her voice was indignant.  "Why are you bothering us again, Detective?  You should be out looking for the person who hurt that little girl."  Helen laid her hand on Starsky's forearm, squeezing it almost hard enough to make him wince.

 

Cruthers' sneer sent shivers down Starsky's back.  "Oh, I think we've found the right person, Mrs. Hutchinson.  Now, I advise you, *Mr.* Starsky not to try anything.  Just come along quietly and we won't have to get rough with you.  Although, maybe you like the rough stuff.  I've heard that your kind do."

 

Before Starsky could react, Cruthers had pushed Helen aside and pulled him out onto the stoop.  Cruthers forced Starsky up against the stair rail and handcuffed him in one clean move, leaving the prisoner gasping for the air that was knocked out of him when his stomach hit the rail.  Starsky barely managed not to struggle when Cruthers pulled him upright.

 

"David.  You're hurting him."  Helen had gone from indignant to terrified.

 

"Just stay out of this, ma'am.  Mr. Starsky, although I'm sure you know the Miranda by heart, I'd still advise you to listen closely."  Inglehart's smug voice grated in Starsky's ear as he tried to turn back to Helen.

 

"David, what do I do?"  Crying, Helen stood in the doorway, wringing her hands.

 

"Call Karl.  Tell him they've arrested me.  And look after Hutch."  Starsky barely got the words out before he was crammed into the backseat of the detectives' car.  He looked back at Helen in stunned disbelief as the car pulled away from the curb and he was taken away.

 

*****

Starsky had no idea how much time had passed since he'd been brought to this room and left.  After being dragged away from the Hutchinson house to the jailhouse, he'd been fingerprinted, searched, and basically treated like a criminal.  Cruthers seemed to delight in Starsky's embarrassment during the search, which had meant stripping off all his clothes and standing cold and naked while a bored guard searched him and his garments for who-knew-what.  He found himself thinking it was a good thing he'd put his medication back in the carry-on instead of in his pocket.

 

They'd taken his watch, belt, shoelaces, and ID.  The guard had tried to remove the two rings from his left little finger, but they were on too snug and it would have taken a metal cutter to get them off.  Starsky took a tiny bit of satisfaction in Cruthers muttering about that.  But Cruthers had the last laugh when he snapped the handcuffs on Starsky's wrists once again.

 

Sitting alone in the cold interrogation room gave Starsky far too much time to think.  At first, he'd tried to concentrate on the knowledge that Karl would soon be along to protest them hauling him off in such a manner.  That someone higher up than the two Duluth detectives would see how wrong Cruthers and Inglehart were, and Starsky would be out before another hour passed. 

 

Then he thought about what little information Helen had told him.  Starsky knew Hutch had gone a bit wild in the first freedom of college.  He just didn't know what that entailed.  The couple of things that Jack Mitchell and Hutch had mentioned during their brief reunion in Las Vegas only heightened the mystery for Starsky.  What could his rather straight-laced partner have possibly done to cause the rift between father and son to last for more than a decade?  Starsky hoped he'd have the chance to find out. 

 

The pain in his shoulder ate up some more time as he attempted to find a position that didn't pull on his arms.  Standing didn't help.  Neither did walking around the small room with his hands held at chest height.  Finally, he sat down again on the straight-backed chair and laid his forearms on the sticky surface of the room's small table.

 

Starsky couldn't understand why Cruthers and Inglehart took such delight in hassling him.  Sure, he was accused of a horrible crime, but this seemed more personal than that.  Especially with Cruthers.  Starsky searched his memory for anything he might have said to cause the level of hostility the two men seemed to feel.  Tried to remember if he'd ever had a case with anyone who might be linked to either detective.  Nothing occurred to him.  Not for the first time, Starsky cursed his newly imperfect memory.

 

Then he got thinking about Hutch.  How it had felt to kiss Hutch, to feel the man's hands on his body.  It gave Starsky a strange, hot feeling in the middle of his body to remember Hutch's fingers caressing his face, running almost tickling little lines down Starsky's chest.  Putting his head down on his bound hands, Starsky tried to think of only that and not the fear that threatened to overwhelm him.  To set him to screaming.

 

The one thing he tried very hard not to think about was what his partner must be thinking and feeling right now.  Hutch had made him a promise and through circumstances not of his making, Hutch had failed on that promise.  Starsky knew it would be tearing his proud partner apart. 

 

Closing his eyes, Starsky thought back to the first days after the shooting.  To the time when he was aware but still not too sure what had happened to him.  Of how Hutch would come and talk to him for hours at a time, even though Starsky wasn't in any condition to respond with anything more than a weak smile or the blink of his eyes.  He should have known then that things were changing between them.  Had changed between them.  Should have recognized that the tiny touches and lingering caresses Hutch bestowed on him were more than what they'd always been.  Should have known that he craved those gestures far more than he ever had before.

 

Starsky tried to remember the exact moment when he finally knew he loved Hutch.  He had a suspicion that he felt that way towards his friend far earlier than the shooting and its aftermath.  Hutch and he had gone through some hurtful times that last year.  They'd pulled away from each other until Starsky feared for their friendship, never mind their partnership.  There were even moments when Starsky felt as if he hated Hutch.  And Hutch hated him in return.  Hurtful, ugly things said and done to each other, shocking now to remember.  

 

Straightening up, arching his aching back, Starsky stared at a corner of the room.  Remembering the turning point in that awful period.  The dark, smoky interior of the dance hall.  The almost visible fear of the employees, wondering who was going to be the next victim of the madman stalking them.  His own fear as he felt his whole life slipping away from him, desperate to hang on to something.  Latching on to the wrong something.

 

A blinding realization hit him, making him gasp in shock.  Starsky knew when he fell from loving Hutch to being in love with him.  Maybe not the exact moment, but certainly the event.  One night early in the investigation, when he and Hutch were undercover as patrons of the dancehall, he'd looked at his partner and felt rage.  And a burning ache in his gut that - at the time - he didn't understand.

 

Hutch and the third member of the team, Kira, were dancing.  Holding her tight, Hutch was smiling down into the woman's laughing face.  That smile felt like a knife in Starsky's heart.  Somewhere in the back of his mind a little voice whimpered.  A need for the return of his partner's affections, too long absent, rose in Starsky's chest.  For a brief moment, Starsky thought he was going to be ill.  Throw up right there from the agony in his throat.  Then Hutch looked away from Kira and towards Starsky, a little worried frown marring his beautiful face, and the agony passed. 

 

Unfortunately, anger remained.  Starsky and Kira had been dating.  Mostly a couple of drinks here, a meal there.  Nothing serious.  Not until that moment.  After that dance, Starsky practically threw himself at Kira.  Tried everything he knew to sweep her off her feet, make her fall in love with him.  Did his best to convince himself that he loved Kira with the same passion he'd felt for his lost Terry.  And, for a tiny space of time, his mind forgot what his heart knew.

 

Sitting here in the cold, barren room, Starsky shook his head at his younger self's stupidity.  He'd misunderstood the jealousy he'd felt - the hurt, the anger that overwhelmed him when Hutch walked out of Kira's bedroom.  He wasn't jealous of Hutch making love to Kira, but of Kira making love to Hutch.  To *his* Hutch.  Starsky hadn't wanted Kira for himself.  He'd been trying to keep her away from Hutch, and he'd failed.

 

It was rather a shock to know, finally, that he'd been in love with his partner for almost six months longer than he'd believed.  Somewhere deep down inside his frightened psyche the germ of desire planted itself and flourished in spite of his ingrained homophobic beliefs.  In spite of everything he believed about himself and his partner.  When he looked back over all that had happened after the Webster case it all made sense.  His willingness to throw away his badge because Hutch did.  Their almost obsessive need to stay together, stay partners, through the brief period between quitting and coming back. 

 

And it explained a lot about the strange dream - memory - vision - hallucination - whatever it was he'd brought back from the half-hour or so he was dead. 

 

***

Misty light flowed around him, hiding his body from his sight.  The air was neither warm nor cool, simply was.  It felt a lot like the ocean sometimes did towards the end of summer, when the water was blood-warm.  When you could float forever and be barely aware of the liquid around you.  Time, space, and distance held no meaning here.  Neither did pain nor fear.  A soft and tranquil place.

 

He wanted out.  Here there was no love, no friendship.  He was alone, lonely.  A voice in his mind - if he still had a mind - compassionately spoke to him.  Asking him if he wanted to stay where he would never hurt again.  Where he'd never feel want or pain.  Never feel desire or pleasure.  Would always simply be. 

 

Everything that he was at that point screamed in agony.  Not agony of the physical body, but agony of his being.  And the one word he screamed was "Hutch." 

 

Given to him in a blinding moment was the sight of his partner's face.  Sweet and gentle with love.  Strong and passionate in desire.  The voice asked, "Is this what you want?  Forever?"  Sobbing, he'd answered back, "Yes.  Forever."

 

One moment he'd been in that lukewarm, misty place and the next he was thrown into a sea of pain.  Hot and cold.  Sharp stabs of something racing through his body for once again he had a body.  But none of that mattered for he could feel something coming for him.  Something so mighty, so powerful that his still heart leaped in his chest and he breathed.  Then he remembered no more. 

 

If anyone had been listening, they would have heard him softly sigh one word as he came back from death then slipped into sleep.  And that sigh held love in its essence.

 

***   

Starsky was surprised to find tears on his cheeks.  He'd lowered his head back down to lie on his cuffed and folded hands and he could feel the wetness on his fingers.  Lifting his head, he wiped at the moisture and tried to breathe against the ache that seemed to fill his body.  An ache he now knew was the one that had saved his life in another cold and barren room.  The ache of loving Hutch.  Of needing Hutch enough to live.

 

***

 

More time passed.  Starsky once again walked the small room, trying not to fall apart.  Trying his damnedest not to start gibbering with fear.  He knew this was a ploy on Inglehart and Cruthers' part.  Something he and Hutch had done on occasion with a real hard case to soften them up.  But they never left the prisoner for this long.  Or bound in handcuffs.  Starsky was beginning to worry that if something - anything - didn't happen soon, they'd be fitting him for a straight jacket.  Having been blessed with that experience once, he had no desire to repeat it.

 

So wrapped up in keeping the panic away, Starsky almost jumped out of his skin when the door to the interrogation room opened and the two detectives strolled in.  Doing his best to steady his ragged breathing, Starsky leaned against a handy wall and watched as Cruthers and Inglehart took positions on either side of the doorway.  Before Starsky had the chance to demand his lawyer again, Karl marched in. 

 

"Why is this man in handcuffs?  What the hell did you think he was going to do, locked in this room?"  Karl didn't raise his voice, but it seemed to fill the room with its force.  He tossed the briefcase he was carrying onto the table where it landed with a loud bang.  Karl walked to Starsky and took his bound hands in his.

 

"Look at this.  These cuffs are too tight and his wrists are swollen.  Uncuff him immediately."  If the look he aimed at Inglehart had been a fist, the detective would have been out cold.  As it was, the man blanched and hurried to unlock Starsky's cuffs.

 

Starsky flexed his tight shoulders, hissing as the left one cramped.  He raised his arms to stretch backwards, grinning to himself as both detectives tensed.

 

"Are you all right, David?"  Karl laid a concerned hand on one of the younger man's arms.

      

"Just sore from not being able to move my arms.  I'll be okay.  I think."  The last words accompanied a sharp pain in his chest as more stressed muscles made their presence known.  Rubbing at the scars that laced his chest, Starsky glanced from the stern look on Karl's face to the restrained anger on the two detectives'.  "Karl, what now?"

 

Karl glared at the detectives again.  "Now you're going home.  These two over-stepped themselves when they arrested you and I've made sure that won't happen again."  If Inglehart could have gotten any paler, he would have disappeared against the white of the wall he stood against.  Cruthers looked like a storm cloud.

 

Starsky was surprised at this sudden turn of events.  He'd been sure he was going to have to spend the night until an arraignment hearing was held.  Starsky had been positive that was what the delay was all about.  Keeping him away from his lawyer until it was too late to release him.  He'd not been looking forward to being locked up in a holding cell for the night.

 

With one hand on Starsky's elbow and the other holding his briefcase, Karl escorted the freed man past the detectives and out of the interrogation room.  When Starsky tried to ask questions, Karl silenced him with a shake of his head.  They went down a short flight of stairs to the guard's desk where Starsky retrieved his belongings.  After taking a minute to allow Starsky to relace his shoes and put on his belt, the two men exited the holding area into the main part of the police station.  Where they were met by Hutch and his father.

 

Starsky had been looking at Karl as they walked through the door but turned in time to see his partner's face light up.  One moment, Hutch was in front of him; the next Hutch's arms were wrapped around Starsky.  "Oh, God, babe.  Oh God."  Starsky squeezed his eyes shut and held on, listening to the sweetest voice in the world whispering in his ear.

 

***

It took the combined efforts of both Richard and Karl to convince Hutch to let go of Starsky long enough to get them out of the police station and into Richard's gray sedan.  The two older men sat in the front while Hutch and Starsky took the back seat.  As his father drove towards home, Hutch sat as close to Starsky as he could and reached for his hand.  Starsky flinched when Hutch's fingers tightened momentarily on his wrist.

 

Concerned, Hutch took Starsky's left hand into his lap and examined it as well as he could in the flickering light cast by the passing street lamps.  "Starsky, what did they do to you?"  The thin edge of anger in Hutch's voice was clear.  Starsky hurried to reassure his partner.

 

"Nothing, Hutch.  Honest.  They left me alone after they booked me."

 

"Yes, alone.  In handcuffs for hours."  Karl's voice was every bit as angry as Hutch's.

 

In the intermittent dark of the back seat, Hutch looked at Starsky and slowly raised the captive hand to his mouth.  Gently kissed the pale bruises on Starsky's wrist and lowered their hands back down to rest once again in his lap.  "I'll kill those bastards." 

 

Starsky grinned uneasily, not sure which unnerved him more, the cold promise in Hutch's tone or the lingering warmth of the kiss on his skin.  "Careful there, buddy.  Don't want you going to jail too for uttering threats in the presence of two officers of the court."  He tried to joke, but it fell flat in the somber silence of the back seat.

 

Hutch turned away and looked out at the dark buildings flitting by the window.  His hand held Starsky's gently, thumb rubbing lightly back and forth on Starsky's palm sending little shivers up that palm and into Starsky's tired heart.  At that moment, Starsky didn't care that the other two were there with them.  He only cared that he and Hutch were together.  Leaning against the seat back, Starsky lay his head against Hutch's shoulder and closed his eyes.  Letting the fear and humiliation flow out of him as he breathed in Hutch's scent and absorbed his warmth.

 

Drifting in that warm, safe place, Starsky lost all sense of time.  He didn't fall asleep, remaining aware of Richard and Karl talking quietly in the front seat.  Aware of every breath his partner took as Hutch's shoulder rose and fell under Starsky's cheek.  Totally aware of every old ache and every new bruise vying for attention.  Only drifting back up to active participation when the car stopped and the motor quieted.

 

A soft voice in his ear, "Hey, babe.  We're home."  Opening one eye, Starsky saw that they were indeed back at Hutchinson house.  The light shining over the front walk, illuminating the petunias planted in tubs along the railings, was the homiest thing Starsky remembered ever seeing. 

 

Sitting up he realized that he'd made a painful error when he slouched down against Hutch.  Starsky watched Hutch's smooth exit from the car with something close to envy as he cataloged the hurts his body screamed at him.  His back hurt worse than it had in a long time, the muscles across his chest felt tight, and the headache he'd been trying to ignore was back in full force.  The failed attempt at stifling the groan that moving forced from him alerted Hutch to his pain.  Starsky's desire for independence won out over his need for Hutch's comfort.

 

"Knock it off, Hutch."  Starsky shook away the hand that reached in to steady him as he climbed painfully out of the car.  Immediately contrite, he leaned against the door and touched Hutch on the arm.  "I'm sorry, Hutch.  I just hurt too much to be touched right now.  Let me do this on my own.  I'll be fine.  Honest."  Starsky could tell that Hutch didn't believe him but the smile Hutch gave him let Starsky know that he'd pretend for both their sakes.

 

Richard had gone ahead to open the door.  He disappeared into the house as Karl accompanied the partners up the walk.  He still maintained a stony silence, one that Starsky didn't find hard to read.  It was far too similar to the one Karl's nephew drew around himself.  Anger was evident in the tension across the shoulders, in the set of the jaw, and the frown between the eyes.  Starsky felt a little shock as he realized how much the two looked alike.  Formidable and beyond furious.

 

There was little time for further comparisons as Helen met them upon entering the house.  With a tiny pat for her son, Helen took both of Starsky's hands in hers and looked searchingly into his eyes.  "Are you all right, David?"  Helen's voice held a little quaver.

 

Smiling, Starsky squeezed her hands gently then let them go.  Even that light hold had hurt.  "Yeah, I'm fine.  Nothing that a little food and lots of sleep won't fix."  Starsky ignored the humph of disagreement from his partner's vicinity.  "But what I'd really like is a drink of water.  I'm practically dying of thirst." And some drugs.  Yeah, drugs would be really good about now.

 

"You mean to tell me that they put you in that room and left you without even water?"  Karl sounded incredulous.  "For how long, David?"  

 

Still hoping that if everyone else stayed calm about his arrest, he'd be able to, Starsky wondered how honestly he should answer any of Karl's questions.  Then Starsky noticed the way Hutch was watching him and knew that no matter what he said, Hutch would know the truth before the night was out.  "I don't know.  You mean how long was I in that interrogation room?"  At Karl's nod, Starsky looked at his watch and tried to focus on the small hands. 

 

"It's going on to nine, Starsk."  Hutch quietly informed him.

 

"Oh.  Guess it'd be not quite five hours or so that they left me there.  It took about an hour for the booking and search and all."  Starsky really wished they'd let him sit down somewhere soft and quiet.  Or better yet, lie down.  His headache was pounding behind his eyes and the hallway seemed off-kilter.

 

"You poor boy.  Let the man come in the house, you two."  Helen grasped Starsky by the arm and started walking towards the living room.  "You go in and sit down, David.  Ken and I will go and get you a sandwich or something.  And something to drink."  Helen left Starsky in Karl's care and herded her son down the hall to the kitchen.

 

Starsky was surprised to find a small family gathering waiting for him in the living room.  Richard was on the phone with his back to the room, quietly arguing with someone.  Sitting on one of the small couches by the lit fireplace were Katie and Dennis.  Karl went to stand beside Richard, listening intently to the one-sided conversation.  Starsky stood in the doorway unsure of what to do.  He really wasn't up to being sociable but it looked like that's what the others wanted.

 

"Dave, sit down, man.  You look like you're about to fall over."  Dennis quickly came over and ushered Starsky to the chair nearest the fireplace.  Starsky hadn't realized how cold he was until the warmth of the fire enveloped him.  Manfully holding back a groan, he settled down in the soft chair and leaned back against the cushions.  Closing his eyes in relief he opened them in surprise when he felt firm fingers on his wrist.  Dennis smiled down at him as he took Starsky's pulse.  "Your pulse is fast, Dave.  Take a few deep breaths."

 

"I'm okay.  Just got a headache."

 

"Yeah, and you're hurting everywhere else."  Hutch announced his arrival.  Starsky rolled his head to look at his partner as Hutch walked towards him carrying a plate and a glass.  "They never should have left you like that for so long.  When this is all over, I'm going to have a serious talk with those two."

 

"Hutch, they didn't treat me that much differently than we've treated prisoners ourselves."  Hutch's frown didn't lessen as he placed the dishes down on the end table beside Starsky's chair.  Starsky tried again.  "Okay, I'll give you that we'd never leave someone alone in an interrogation room for almost five hours in handcuffs or without checking on them occasionally.  That was rather unusual.  But they had a warrant and I *was* a prisoner." 

 

"Actually, they didn't have a warrant."  Karl had come over to join the group at the fireplace.

 

"Huh?  Then what was that paper that Inglehart was waving around?"  Anger gave Starsky a brief surge of strength.

 

"Could have been his laundry list for all I know, but it sure wasn't any warrant.  I checked."  Karl smiled at Katie and continued talking as she moved over to give her uncle room to sit beside her on the couch.  "That's why we were able to get you out at all.  Although, between the three of us raising holy hell about them taking you in like that, we would have had you out before long anyway."

 

Starsky looked to his partner for enlightenment.  Hutch had settled down on the floor beside Starsky's chair.  He leaned on the arm of the chair as he explained.  "Dad, Karl, and Dennis all have a great deal of influence in this town, Starsk.  Between the three of them, they probably know every important person in Duluth.  If not the whole state."  Starsky wasn't sure if the expression on Hutch's face was one of pride or discomfort.  He stored the questions it raised away for later.  "As Dennis said earlier, he plays racquetball with the commissioner.  What he didn't tell those two twits is that he's also the godfather of the commissioner's son."  Dennis shrugged when Starsky looked at him in surprise.

 

Hutch smiled a bit at Starsky's look of bemusement and continued.  "I already told you that Karl's the best defense attorney in Minnesota.  He's also a past member of the City Council and friend's with the current mayor."  Hutch looked away from his partner's questioning eyes.  "And Dad....  Well, Dad's on the board of several charitable organizations, past-president of the Chamber of Commerce, and CEO of one of the biggest shipping companies on the Great Lakes.  And that's just the male members of my little family, I won't even start to tell you what Mom, Aunt Liv, and my own little sister are involved in."

 

Starsky wasn't sure if it was the headache pounding behind his eyes or the knowledge that his partner's family was far more powerful than he'd ever guessed that was making the light in the room dance.  But he definitely felt a bit overwhelmed.  He'd always suspected that Hutch's family had money.  Over the years of their friendship, he'd been exposed to too many "upper-class" things while with his partner not to know that they all came as second-nature to the rather Bohemian Hutch.  Things like knowing which was the really "good" caviar or what wine to drink with what foods.  How Hutch could go undercover and mix with high society types and not be found out.  And how, in spite of Hutch's inclination to drive around in old rust-buckets, he knew his way around expensive cars.

 

For a moment, Starsky felt as if he didn't know his partner at all.  Or really ever knew him.  And for that moment, Starsky wondered what the hell Hutch saw in him.  David Michael Starsky - Brooklyn poor boy.  The offspring of two lower-middle class Jews to whom corned beef without fat was haute cuisine.  A shiver of loneliness ran through him as he envisioned Hutch leaving him to come back to this life of power and money.

 

Then Hutch placed a warm hand on Starsky's knee and looked up at him.  The love in those eyes made everything right again and the fear faded away.  Leaving only the pain in his head and the ache in his body to contend with.  But they were nothing as long as Hutch loved him and as long as Hutch looked at him like that.

 

Richard ended his phone conversation with a loud banging of the receiver.  Coming over to claim the last chair in the grouping, he sighed heavily as he sat down.  Running long fingers through his hair, Richard looked around at his family.  "That was Les Stevenson.  Judge Stevenson, David.  Seems Inglehart and Cruthers approached him about five minutes after we left the police station for a warrant for your arrest.  He turned them down telling them that they didn't have enough evidence."  Richard grinned wolfishly.  "Besides, I'd already talked to him about what was going on and he assured me that none of the other judges would issue a warrant with what little those two have for evidence.  That he was sure of it."

 

Starsky felt sick to his stomach.  This was something both he and Hutch had always fought against.  One of the things that had led them indirectly to the attention of John Gunther through his bought judge.  Power used to influence.  And now, here he sat, in the midst of just such power.  And his best friend - his lover - was all part of it.  Starsky wished his head didn't hurt so much.  It made it too hard to think.

 

He closed his eyes against the pitching of the room.  Only dimly aware of Helen coming in or of the others as they talked until something filtered through.  Cautiously, he reopened his eyes and looked at Karl.  "What did you say?"  Starsky didn't notice the way everyone looked at him when he spoke.  He was trying too hard to focus on Karl.

 

"I said, that Les has little use for Inglehart and Cruthers.  Just a couple of weeks ago, Les had to dismiss a case because of their sloppy work.  The man was as guilty as sin and everyone knew it, but those two rushed things and screwed up.  The defendant got off on a technicality and now no one's sure if the police are ever going to be able to prove he did the crime.  That's why none of the judges in this town will write a warrant for those two dimwits without an okay from their captain."  Starsky didn't notice the look of concern as Karl watched him. 

 

"You mean...."  Starsky wasn't sure how to phrase his question without sounding rude or angering the very people who were trying to help him.  He rubbed at his aching forehead.  Damn.  I can't think straight.  "You mean you didn't 'convince' the judge to look the other way?"

 

Karl and Richard glanced at each other and started laughing.  Richard leaned forward to look directly at Starsky.  "David, no matter what my son says, we're really not that important in the scheme of things.  Sure, we've got lots of important friends and contacts.  But that's all they are - friends.  There's no way I could convince a judge to do anything.  And while Karl's good at what he does, most of the judges here make sure he toes the mark simply because he is that good."  Richard smiled warmly at Starsky.  "I called Les to ask him what to do about that warrant Inglehart claimed to have simply because Les is a relative of ours.  I won't get into the lineage, it's too convoluted, but that's the only reason."

 

Hutch rose to his knees and laid a hand against Starsky's cheek.  "You look awful, Starsk.  Try to eat some of that sandwich, okay, babe?"  Starsky blinked at him.  Hutch's face seemed to swim, glowing in the firelight.  "Starsk?  You okay?"

 

"Yeah.  I think I need to go get the stuff for my head, Hutch."  Starsky tried to rise, but the room dipped and he fell back into the chair and held his pounding head in his hands.  It took him a minute to get the pain down to a level where he was sure he wasn't about to embarrass himself by throwing up on the Oriental rug beneath his feet.

 

"Stay still.  Tell me where your medication is and I'll get it."  Hutch's arm was around Starsky's shoulder and Starsky leaned gratefully into that support.

 

"In my carry-on in a little leather pouch.  Just bring the whole thing."  Hutch's arm was gone and Starsky leaned back in the chair, trying not to think or feel.  Just letting the sudden quiet of the room work its way into his brain. 

 

The sound of a door banging shut jarred Starsky.  He barely opened his eyes enough to see Rickie run into the room.  She stood there; pulling in great breaths of air as if she'd just ran a mile, her long hair floating to stillness around her flushed face.  But it was the look of elation on her face that brought him upright and everyone else to their feet. 

 

Looking at her father, Rickie grinned widely.  "I just talked to Chris.  I know what really happened."

 

Starsky found himself standing; swaying a bit, but standing nonetheless as the sound level in the room suddenly escalated.  The family surrounded Rickie, everyone asking questions all at the same time, no one giving the girl a chance to answer any of them.  It wasn't until Hutch arrived, his face almost white against the dark blue shirt he was wearing, that any semblance of order returned.  And only then because of his shout of, "Be quiet," in his best cop voice.

 

All eyes turned towards Hutch.  He stood just inside the doorway to the living room, blond hair back lit by the hallway light with a half-wild look on his face that made something in Starsky shiver.  Starsky walked towards Hutch, never taking his eyes from his partner's face even when he bumped painfully into a table corner.  No one else in the room paid any attention to his slow progress until he stood beside Rickie.

 

"Rickie, honey, what do you mean you talked to Chris?  What did she tell you?"  Starsky was only vaguely aware of the look of surprise on Hutch's face as Starsky tried to focus on Rickie.

 

Karl forestalled whatever Rickie was about to say, "Wait.  Don't answer that, Erica.  You could be considered my agent and as such shouldn't have talked to Chris without either her lawyer present or her parents' permission.  And just what the hell were you doing over there in the first place?  I told you to stay here with your aunt."

 

Starsky saw Hutch circling the group, edging towards him.  While part of him craved his partner's strength, that need scared him and he steeled himself not to give in to the temptation to lean against Hutch.  Instead he forced himself to stand straighter and focus all of his attention on Rickie and her father as they stood nose to nose.  Forced himself to concentrate on what Rickie was saying.

 

"I got permission from Mrs. Vetter.  I went over there, knocked on the door, and she let me in.  I asked her if it would be okay to talk with Chris and she told me to go on upstairs to Chris' room."  Rickie stared at her father with her hands clenched on her hips and her mouth in a tight line.  Starsky couldn't tell if she was angry at her father's attitude or if she was trying not to cry.  Either way, she reminded Starsky of Hutch at his fierce best.

 

"And I wasn't doing it for you.  I wanted to help Ken.  You weren't here this afternoon after those creeps dragged David out of here.  You didn't see Ken's face when he walked in the door to find Aunt Helen practically in hysterics on the phone trying to track you down.  You weren't the one to hang on tight to keep him from going down there and searching for his partner, looking like he was ready to kill someone.  Were you?" 

 

Rickie's voice got lower and deeper until it was barely audible.  Starsky risked a glance at Hutch and caught him staring back.  Another shiver ran hot through Starsky as he became lost in the pain and remembered fear in his partner's eyes.  Coming back to himself with a start, Starsky realized he was reaching out a hand towards Hutch and that Rickie was talking to him.  Turning away from that intense gaze hurt almost as much as the agony in his head, but Starsky managed.

 

"I had to, David."  Starsky realized he had no idea what Rickie was talking about.

 

"Had to what?" 

 

Rickie sighed in exasperation.  "I had to talk to Chris - learn the truth - for both you and Ken.  I couldn't stand the thought of you in that jail and I couldn't stand watching Ken tear himself up about it either."  She looked from one partner's tense face to the other.  Rickie's eyes were bright with unshed tears and her jaw clenched as she stared into Starsky's eyes.  "I love Ken too much to stand aside and watch the person he loves be railroaded."  She turned back to her father.  "Besides, I figured that those stupid detectives probably intimidated Chris enough that she was afraid to tell the truth after she lied.  And I knew she lied.  I figured she'd tell me, a friend, what really happened.  And I was right."

 

Father and daughter stared at each other.  Starsky wanted to take Karl by the shoulders and shake him until he allowed Rickie to speak.  He wanted to go find a quiet corner, curl up on the floor, and give in to the pain that felt as if his brain was melting.  Wanted one last chance to make love to Hutch before it was too late. 

 

Karl broke first.  Looking away from Rickie's determined glare to meet Hutch's pleading eyes staring at him over her shoulder.  The older man ran his hands through his hair again, pulling at the dark blond strands.  "Okay, Rickie.  Tell us what Chris said."

 

Before Rickie had a chance to speak, Hutch laid a hand on her shoulder.  "Can we go back and sit down?"  There was no need for him to say why.  Starsky knew by the glances towards him that the family all understood.  As a group, they went back to their original places with Hutch following close on Starsky's heels.  Hutch offered Starsky the little pouch he was carrying once Starsky had sat back down but Starsky waved it away.  As bad as his head hurt, he needed to keep some fashion of alertness for what was coming next.  Hutch leaned against the back of Starsky's chair and said nothing.

 

Richard gestured Rickie to take his chair and he perched on the arm of the couch beside his wife.  Rickie appeared suddenly nervous as the focus of all her family turned on her in quiet intensity.  Fiddling with a strand of hair, she looked from one face to another.  Nervously she looked at Starsky and Hutch.  Starsky offered his best compassionate smile and she smiled faintly in return.

 

"Chris was lying on the bed when I got to her room.  She looks awful.  Her eyes are black and blue and she's got a big red bruise on her cheek.  I don't know what else there was because she was wearing these pajamas that covered her arms right down past her wrists and she had an afghan over her legs.  But she moved like she was in a lot of pain.  God, Dave, I felt so bad for her.  She was hanging onto this old teddy bear and she looked like she was about nine years old.  I almost didn't have the heart to question her."  Rickie wiped at a lone tear that ran down her cheek.

 

"I went and sat on the bed beside her and asked if I could hold her hand.  She looked so scared that I was afraid to touch her without asking first.  It took her a minute but Chris held out her hand and we just sat there for awhile without saying anything.  I just watched her.  She looked so tired.  Like she just didn't care anymore.  I finally couldn't take it any longer and I just out and asked her who had done it to her.  She got really scared, and looked at the door like someone was going to bust it down.  Then she asked me,  'Don't you know?'  And I said, 'I know David didn't do it.'  You should have seen the expression on her face."  Rickie twirled the bit of hair harder and looked down at her hand in surprise when she pulled too hard.  She let the hair go, put her hands under her thighs, and continued telling her story.

 

"Chris just looked at me for awhile but I could tell she was thinking really hard.  Then she sat up and pulled her hand out of mine.  I was afraid she was going to tell me to leave but she just leaned closer and started whispering.  'Let it be, Rickie.  They'll won't bother him because he's a cop and it'll all go away.'"

 

"I could have smacked her myself.  'It's not going away, Chris.  They've taken him to jail and they're going to prosecute him.  Do you know what happens to policemen who end up in prison, Chris?  What happened to you is nothing compared to what the other prisoners will do to him.  Do you want that on your conscience?  That you sent an innocent man to his death?'  That got through to her.  Her eyes got all big - well, as big as they could with the bruising - and then she covered them with her hands.  She started crying and I wanted to shake her, but I hugged her instead.  I don't think anyone's hugged her in a long time." 

 

Rickie looked like she could use a hug herself and if Starsky hadn't been trying to stay upright, he would have gone to her.  The girl wiped at her eyes again.  "She cried for a little while, then she told me what had really happened.  I won't bore you all with the details, not now."  Rickie looked at Hutch hovering over his partner.  "You remember I told you I thought she was seeing a boy her father didn't like and that was why she was grounded."  Starsky didn't need to see his partner's nod.  "Well, I was right.  She's been sneaking around with this guy who's not in school anymore.  He was kicked out when he got caught selling drugs on campus.  I think he's on probation.  Anyway, she'd arranged for him to meet her here last night and she went off with him after talking to you, David."  Rickie didn't look at her father when he started to speak.  Katie put her hand on her uncle's arm and he subsided.

 

Continuing to look only at Hutch and Starsky, Rickie swallowed hard.  "Chris said that she and this guy had never gone beyond some heavy petting but last night he was insistent that she go all the way.  When she wouldn't, he forced her to.  Out there in the field, in the dark.  Chris said she was never so scared in her life.  But after he was done, he just zipped up his pants and left her.  She said it was long after midnight before she worked up enough courage to go home."

 

Starsky didn’t like the expression on Rickie's face as she looked over at her father.  "What happened after she got home is even worse than her being raped.  At least I think it is.  Chris' father was waiting for her.  And he was really drunk by the time she snuck in the back door.  Chris said that he called her all kinds of awful names, telling her she was nothing but a tramp and a whore.  Even when she tried to tell him that she'd been raped, he still kept yelling at her.  Then he started to hit her."  Rickie seemed unaware of the tears streaming down her face. 

 

"Chris said that her father hit her so hard that she fell down and then he kicked her."  A sob caught Rickie in mid-word and it took a minute for her to collect herself enough to continue.  "That's when her mother stopped him.  She'd been standing in the hallway outside the kitchen the whole time and didn't make him stop hitting Chris until she fell.  Daddy, how could anyone treat their child like that?"  Karl looked like he was just barely keeping from crying himself as he got down on his knees beside his daughter and gathered him to her.  Rickie sobbed quietly against his shoulder. 

 

Starsky felt sick from more than his headache.  Hutch laid his hand on Starsky's shoulder and Starsky placed his own hand on top.  The rest of the family sat in stunned silence as Rickie tried to control her crying.  Karl spoke soothing words against her blonde hair and rubbed gentle circles on her shaking back.  Starsky tried to ignore the way Dennis was looking at him, as the room seemed to contract and expand in synch to the rhythm of Starsky's heart.

 

Finally, Rickie pulled away from her father's embrace and looked over at Starsky.  Gulping in little breaths of air, she spoke quietly.  "Chris told me that she said you'd raped her because she was afraid her father would kill her if he found out she'd been seeing that boy behind his back.  She figured that because you're a policeman they'd leave you alone.  Chris really does feel bad about the way you've been treated, David." 

 

She turned back to her father.  "I want to go home, Daddy.  I want to crawl into bed and forget that people like the Vetters even exist."

 

Karl nodded.  Helping Rickie to her feet, he looked over to his brother-in-law.  "I'll get hold of the proper authorities first thing in the morning, Richard.  I doubt very much that Inglehart and Cruthers will try anything else tonight, but if they do, don't let them in and call me immediately."  Pulling his daughter close, Karl guided the still weeping Rickie out of the room.

 

Patting Katie on the knee, Dennis rose and came over to the partners.  "Let me see your medication, David."  Hutch handed over the pouch before Starsky could reply.  Poking about in the assortment of pill bottles inside the leather bag, Dennis finally pulled out the one containing the little white pills.  Reading the label, Dennis frowned and looked down at Starsky.  Starsky tried to keep the pain he felt off his face but he could tell he was fooling no one.  Dennis took Starsky's chin in his hand and looked into Starsky's eyes.

 

"You're feeling pretty bad, aren't you, David?"  Starsky shrugged, too tired to fight any more.  "I don't think that these are going to do you any good.  Do you have any allergies?" 

 

Hutch spoke before Starsky could wrap his thoughts around the question.  "Just codeine.  He got too much of it once before when he was shot and it makes him pass out.  But he hasn't had trouble with anything else."

 

Dennis looked up from his patient to Hutch.  "Good.  I'm going to whip on over to the hospital dispensary and get some Demerol.  Get him up to bed and I'll be back in less than fifteen minutes."  Before Starsky could protest, Dennis was leaving. 

 

"C'mon partner, you heard the man.  Let's get you up to bed."  Hutch reached for Starsky's arm.  Something seemed to snap inside of Starsky's aching brain and he pulled his arm out of his partner's grasp.

 

"I'm not that sick, Hutch.  I'm quite capable of getting myself to bed.  I'm not a child."  Starsky ignored the hurt look on Hutch's face and the ones of shock that the rest of the family wore.  Pulling himself to his feet almost undid Starsky's determination to prove himself.  "Goodnight everyone.  I'm sorry to put you through this.  I'll repay all of you somehow for caring.  But it'll have to wait."  Each word he forced out hurt, but he was determined not to show it.

 

Ignoring Hutch, Starsky started the long journey upstairs to his bedroom.  Each step seemed a mile and when he arrived at the top of the staircase and looked down the long hall towards his and Hutch's shared rooms, he almost wept in frustration and pain.  Hanging onto the wall, he made his slow way until he finally stood in front of the two doors at the end of the hallway.  Looking carefully back over his shoulder, Starsky saw Hutch standing at the top of the stairs watching him. 

 

The lost look on Hutch's face undid Starsky's hard won strength and he sagged against the doorway to his room.  Opening the door, Starsky entered the cool dark and wondered if he could get into the bed without killing himself falling over something in the blackness.  He barely noticed the opening of another door and almost didn’t register the sudden glow of light from beyond the bathroom doorway. 

 

"Starsky?"  Hutch's voice was soothing in the dimness.

 

"Yeah?"

 

"May I help you?"

 

A soft sigh.  "Yeah."

 

Hutch was beside him, helping him slip out of his shirt and jeans, then helping him pull on the pajama bottoms.  Then Hutch guided Starsky to the bathroom where Starsky painfully took care of the basics.  Almost crawling by the time he was done, Starsky gratefully took the offered arm and stumbled back to the bed.  Lying down on the soft pillows with the warm blankets covering him felt as close to Nirvana as he'd ever experienced.  Closing his eyes, Starsky watched the swirling colors behind his eyelids and prayed that his stomach would behave. 

 

Starsky was almost asleep when he heard Dennis' voice quietly talking to Hutch in the hallway.  Then the bed moved a bit as someone sat down on the edge of the mattress.  Opening one eye, Starsky looked up at the dim outline of Dennis' body and watched in detachment as the doctor prepared the hypodermic in his hand.

 

"Can you roll onto your side, David?  I'm afraid I have to give you this shot in your butt."  Dennis' voice was soothing even while promising to inflict an indignity upon his patient.  Starsky obligingly rolled over far enough that Dennis could reach him.  A cold touch of alcohol then the pinch of the needle and it was done.  Starsky rolled back to his original position and wondered where Hutch had gotten to.  Before he could ask Dennis, the world grew even softer and fuzzier than it had been and Starsky knew nothing more. 

 

*****

Waking was slow.  Fuzzy with the aftereffects of really good drugs, Starsky lay quietly under the blankets and just was.  After a bit he started searching around inside his head, looking for the pain that had tortured him earlier.  A bare echo remained and he woke a little more.  Sleepily, he stretched out one arm, questing for something and was disappointed in the exploration.  "Hutch?" 

 

Still blurry with remembered agony and enforced sleep he opened his eyes to look for his partner.  Muddled in with the pain there was a dim memory of Hutch stealing into the bed sometime during the night and holding him close.  A soft, warm memory of a gentle kiss and loving arms wrapped around his tired and not quite aching body.  Surely, he hadn't dreamt it.  Starsky hoped not.

 

But Hutch wasn't there.  Not beside him in the bed nor anywhere else in the room when Starsky slowly moved his head to look.  He rolled over onto his side, feeling lost and alone, and saw a slight indention in the other pillow.  Gathering it to him, Starsky could discern the faint, lingering aroma of his partner's aftershave and realized that he had remembered true.  Satisfied, Starsky closed his eyes and fell back into sleep.

 

***

It was some time later when he struggled up to wakefulness again.  This time the waking was less fuzzy.  The drawn drapes muted the bright light edging around them into a soft dimness.  Realizing that the headache he'd been sure was going to kill him the night before was gone, Starsky pushed the covers back and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.  Stretching was easier than it had been in a long while and he did it again just for the simple joy of it.  The ache that had lived in his back since Gunther was still there, but the sharp stabbing pain from yesterday - pain that felt as if someone was digging into him with a rusty scalpel - was gone.  Starsky didn't miss it at all.

 

"Looks like you're feeling better."  Starsky stopped in mid-stretch and looked over his shoulder towards the hall door.  Hutch stood in the open doorway, one hand holding the doorknob and a tentative smile brightening his pale features. 

 

Smiling hugely in return, Starsky gestured for Hutch to come in.  "Yeah, the headache's gone and I'm feeling great."  Starsky rose to stand in front of his partner.  Hutch made no move to touch him and Starsky's smile slipped away.  "What's wrong?  Something's happened, hasn't it?"

 

Hutch shook his head, "No, nothing like that, Starsk."  He looked nervous.  "I'm...I don't want to overstep myself with you." 

 

"Huh?  What'cha mean, 'overstep'?"

 

Hutch looked down at the floor and swallowed hard.  "Last night, with all that happened and with you looking so awful, I got scared.  When I came home and found you gone....  When Mom told me that they'd taken you away, I felt like my whole world was falling in around me."  He glanced up at Starsky then back down at the floor.  "I remembered what you said about not letting them take you, and I was afraid you'd do something."  Hutch threw his head up and looked anywhere but at Starsky.

 

"If anything had happened to you, Starsky....  If things had gone wrong and you really decided that you couldn't take it, I don't think I could bear it.  Then last night when you were in so much pain and there wasn't anything I could do to help you....  When you wouldn't let me near you, I didn't know what to feel, what to think."  Hutch looked at Starsky with pain and fear in his eyes.  "God, Starsky.  I've never loved anyone the way I love you.  Never needed anyone the way I need you."

 

Starsky stepped closer to his partner and wrapped his arms around the man.  Holding him close, Starsky could feel faint tremors running through Hutch's body and the arms that had reached to embrace him.  "Hutch, it's going to be okay now.  We know the truth and even those two turkeys are going to have to admit that I'm innocent.  I won't leave you, I promise."  He grasped Hutch by the shoulders and drew back enough that he could see Hutch's face.

 

"I realized something yesterday, Hutch.  Our lives are bound together.  Have been for a very long time.  When I died, I was offered a choice.  I could have stayed wherever it was that is beyond this life or I could come back.  It was a choice between never hurting again or hurting like hell for maybe forever.  The only reason I came back was because I'd rather risk living with the pain from the shooting than never be with you at all.  Anything, any amount of pain, is worth it as long as I have you with me."

 

They stared at each other.  Starsky could see Hutch trying to work out what he'd told him.  Not being able to stand the sadness on his partner's face any longer, Starsky raised his hands from Hutch's shoulders to rest them against the pale cheeks.  "Listen to me, Hutch.  I love you with everything I've got in me.  I'll love you for the rest of my life and beyond if you'll let me.  Don't let my pain or whatever it is that's eating at you get between us."  He pulled Hutch's face closer and kissed him on the forehead, then lower to lay little kisses on each closed eyelid.  Starsky's voice was barely above a whisper as he moved down to claim Hutch's lips.

 

"I love you, Hutch.  Always have, always will."

 

At first Hutch's lips remained closed against his, then with a small moan, Hutch opened to Starsky's insistent mouth.  The kiss they shared began gentle.  A soft give and take of love and promise.  Slowly it grew from healing warmth to burning need.  Starsky felt as if he were drowning in the desire that flooded him, making him ache in a totally different way from the pain in his back.  He lowered his hands to grasp Hutch's shirt, needing something to hang on to.  Hutch's hands were making slow, lazy caresses down Starsky's bare back, leaving tingling heat in their wake.

 

It was Starsky who broke the embrace, his heart pounding so hard in his ears that he felt deaf.  Gasping for air, realizing that he'd forgotten to breathe sometime during these last minutes, he stared at Hutch in amazement.  If this was the way he felt after one kiss, how the hell was he going to survive making love with this man?  Trying to reconnect his mind to his body, he groped for words.  "Hutch...where...is..."  Damn, get a grip.  "Where is everyone?"

 

Hutch looked as shell-shocked as Starsky felt.  His eyes glowed in the dimness of the room; his hands moved from Starsky's back to stroke the muscles of Starsky's chest.  When one long finger grazed across a nipple, Starsky felt his whole body respond.  Starsky tried to move back, away from those hands, but he couldn't make his feet obey him. 

 

"Hutch?"

 

"They've gone out.  Probably gone for hours."  Hutch appeared mesmerized by Starsky's body.  A body he'd seen a thousand times.  Starsky felt as if the room was closing in on him along with his desire to sink to the plush carpet and take his partner with him.  Instead, he finally succeeded in backing away from Hutch, only to bump into the bed behind him.  Hutch grinned wolfishly at him, moving closer.  Starsky wasn't sure if it was desire or fear that ran hot through him.

 

"Hutch, I don't want this right now."  Seven simple words.  But the effect they had on Hutch was instant.  His eyes seemed to dim, shutting Starsky out.  Hutch removed his hands from Starsky's body as if burnt and stepped back a couple of paces.

 

"What do you mean you don't want this?  Me or what?"  The chill in Hutch's voice filled the room.

 

"No.  I mean, yes - I want you.  Always want you.  Just not right this minute."  The usually articulate Starsky struggled to find the right words.  "Hutch, please understand.  I love you so much that I can't think about anything else when I'm around you.  Hell, when I'm not around you either.  I want it to be perfect when we finally make love.  But this isn't perfect.  I can still smell that damn jail on my skin.  I'm dying of thirst, hungry as anything, and I really, really need a shower."  Starsky's hand reached out towards Hutch in supplication. 

 

Hutch blinked, his eyes clearing and a little smile pulled at the stern features.  "Any time we make love will be perfect, Starsky.  Is perfect.  But if you want to wait, even if it's killing me, I'll wait.  Go take your shower, partner, and I'll go downstairs and find you something to eat."  Hutch moved, not away again but closer, and captured Starsky's mouth with his before Starsky could react.  The kiss was rough, passionate, and left Starsky gasping for air once again.

 

Starsky watched Hutch walk away from him towards the hall door.  Sudden fear warred with the desire burning in Starsky's blood.  Desire to take advantage of this chance at finally doing what they'd both been wanting for so long without the threat of interruption.  Fear that everything could still go wrong and he'd never get the chance to prove to Hutch how much he really loved him.

 

"Hutch."

 

Hutch stopped just outside the door and looked back.  "Yes, Starsky?"

 

"That shower is big enough for two."  Starsky swallowed hard at the expression on Hutch's face. 

 

Like the sun suddenly appearing from behind a cloud, the smile that lit Hutch's face seemed to heat the entire room.  Or maybe just Starsky's soul as Hutch turned back into the room.  Closing the door firmly behind him, Hutch approached Starsky and stared at him.  "Are you sure, Starsk?  Don't say you want me unless you really do."  A look of intense longing replaced the smile as Hutch waited for Starsky's answer.

 

Feeling mesmerized by the dark specks he'd never noticed in Hutch's eyes before, Starsky slowly nodded.  "Yeah, I'm sure.  Sure as anything I've ever wanted before.  I want to be with you, Hutch.  Any way I can, even if it's not perfect.  I'm too afraid to wait any longer."

 

Turning away from Hutch, Starsky walked towards the bathroom, trusting Hutch to follow.  Doing his best to ignore his partner and his own growing excitement, Starsky prepared the shower for them.  Turned on the water and held his hand under the stream until it was just past blood warm.  Pulled several fluffy towels from the cupboard and laid them on the counter.  Gathered a couple of washcloths and reached into the misting shower to hang them on the rack intended for that purpose.  Found the soap and shampoo he'd brought and placed them just inside the curtain.  Took a moment to draw a large glass of water and tried to swallow past the craving in his throat. 

 

Finally running out to things to do, Starsky turned back to Hutch to find his partner had been making some preparations of his own.  Hutch had stripped off his clothes and stood with his back to Starsky as he folded the discarded jeans and shirt and laid them on the closed toilet seat. 

 

God, he's beautiful.  Starsky had seen Hutch naked a hundred - maybe a thousand - times over the years.  Seen him in locker room showers, padding back and forth to the bathroom when one of them had stayed overnight on the other's couch.  Even once when Hutch had fallen in something truly disgusting chasing a felon and Starsky had helped wash the stink off his partner's skin in Hutch's shower.

 

But he'd never seen him nude before.  Not like this, not when it was for him - for Starsky.  For them.  The sight of Hutch's strong back, taut ass, and long runner's legs moved something in him that he'd never been aware of before.  His eyes mapped Hutch's back.  Committing to memory every small scar, every freckle, every mole.  Starsky knew that, if he was so talented, he could have painted that body on canvas without ever looking at it again.

 

Then Hutch turned around and Starsky's knees almost gave out on him.  The sight of his partner's - his lover's - erection drew Starsky's eyes.  In perfect proportion to Hutch's height and build, it was long and slender, thickening with growing desire as Hutch stared at him.  Starsky had always been aware that Hutch was well made, well endowed.  There'd been too many shared bathroom visits over the years not to learn that.  But now, facing his partner in full arousal, Starsky took note of the flawless elegance of Hutch's body and for the first time in his life felt inadequate.

 

Starsky lifted his eyes to Hutch's, shivers running through him as he saw the look in the other's eyes.  As he'd never quite seen Hutch's body this way before, he had never seen an expression on Hutch's face quite like this one either.  Full of need, burning passion, and almost animal sensuality.  All of it plain on Hutch's beloved face and all for one David Starsky.    

 

Voice deep in his throat, Hutch broke the heated silence that enveloped them.  "You going in the shower with those on, babe?"

 

Looking down, Starsky was startled to see that he still had his pajama bottoms on.  Raising his eyes once more, he locked stares with Hutch.  A wicked sense of something possessed Starsky and he grinned impishly at Hutch.  "Thought maybe you'd like to help me out of them."  He raised one eyebrow.  "Lover." 

 

Hutch blushed red.  Damn.  Starsky thought he'd never seen Hutch look so flustered yet so sure of himself as his partner moved across the small space between them and rested his hands on Starsky's waist.  The sensation of Hutch's hot, slightly steamy hands touching Starsky's equally moist skin made Starsky's cock pulse inside the suddenly constricting pajamas.  And when Hutch pulled him into another kiss, Starsky had to think hard and fast about something else or he would have come right there. 

 

Trying to maintain any control was difficult considering what Hutch was doing to him.  Hutch's fingers splayed against Starsky's waist, thumbs rubbing against the top of his hipbones.  One long-fingered hand moved up Starsky's back until it rested between his shoulder blades, covering one of the bullet-scars there.  He caressed the sensitive skin, causing Starsky to tremble in not-quite pain and pull Hutch closer. 

 

One part of Starsky's rapidly over-heating brain registered the strange sensation of holding a naked man in passion.  The way Hutch's back felt under Starsky's own exploring hands.  Soft, firm skin overlying hard muscles that moved and trembled as Hutch fondled him in turn.  The way Hutch's lips tasted of oranges and his hair smelled of damp hay.  How those lips nipped at Starsky's chin and how Hutch's warm tongue licked at the pulse in Starsky's throat.  But it was the sounds of desire and longing mouthed against his neck that Starsky would remember most fondly when he thought of this time.  Low, almost lyrically, Hutch said Starsky's name over and over.  Murmuring indistinct words into Starsky's ear as Hutch mouthed the lobe and nuzzled into the curls behind it. 

 

Hutch's erection poked at Starsky's as they clung to each other in the misty room.  Starsky moaned against Hutch's mouth as Hutch slowly pushed down on the pajamas, inching them slowly away from Starsky's heated body.  Down past his ass and gently over his cock until those large hands cradled him fore and aft.  The fingers of one hand stroked softly across one buttock as the other hand held Starsky's cock in a firm grasp.  Starsky gasped and pushed against the hand holding him so intimately and heard an answering gasp as their bodies pressed together.

 

Holding on to each other, tongues and lips exploring, they swayed together to some inaudible music.  Starsky felt as if he was soaring, his body grounded here in Hutch's arms but his soul hovering somewhere above them.  He needed completion, he needed to breathe, he needed to back away from all of it before his body gave in to its desire and he lost all control.

 

Pulling his mouth away from Hutch's questing tongue, Starsky managed to get intelligent words out.  "Hutch.  Shower."

 

Hutch smiled down at him and let go with one hand but left the hand that rested on Starsky's ass where it lay.  It stayed there as Starsky kicked the clinging pajamas away and remained as, together, they moved towards the tub.  Starsky held the curtain aside to allow Hutch to enter first, then let it drop behind himself as Starsky stepped in to the warmth and steam of the water splashing against the porcelain.  Starsky pushed Hutch forward until they both stood under the stream and he kissed Hutch again as the water ran between them.

 

The stimulation of water against his skin, of lips nibbling on his neck, and a slick hand moving against his hip meshed into one devastating sensation so heady that Starsky felt drunk with it.  Felt as if he'd never felt anything before.  And he wanted to go on feeling like this for the rest of his life.  Starsky, needing to share the feeling with Hutch, reached out bold fingers and touched his partner's erection for the first time. 

 

As Starsky's hand closed around the heated cock, Hutch gasped against Starsky's neck and bit down.  Starsky arched back at the sudden pain, then relaxed as Hutch licked the tiny hurt.  "Sorry, babe.  God."  Hutch voice whispered against Starsky's ear as they moved together and Hutch's hand reached for Starsky.

 

Everything, every sound, taste, smell, every touch was so new, so different from anything he'd ever experienced with a woman that Starsky felt momentarily at a loss.  Hutch's cock was heavy in his hand and Starsky was afraid of hurting him.  But Hutch had no such compunction as he fondled Starsky's cock, moving down the shaft until he touched the scrotum.  Starsky felt himself grow harder and pressed his forehead into Hutch's shoulder.  He felt Hutch's smile against his cheek as Hutch stroked back up Starsky's cock and thumbed the tip.

 

Trying to remember what breathing felt like, Starsky duplicated Hutch's move, feeling the strong pulse against his palm and the fine hairs at the base.  Trembling, he opened his eyes and drew back his head so he could see his partner's face. 

 

Eyes closed in ecstasy, Hutch looked wanton in the steam enveloping them.  There was something so magnificent, so other-worldly about Hutch standing there with his head thrown back and his hair slick with water that Starsky felt engulfed with love and need.  Giving himself over to that need, Starsky lost all sense of self, all sense of reality, as his body tried to fuse with Hutch's.  He couldn't tell who was touching what, whose hand caressed whose back, which mouth pressed against which nipple.  Time flowed and lost all meaning as first one then the other reached climax.  Their cries mingled with the mist and washed down between them with the water.

 

Starsky had no idea how long he rested pressed up against the wall tiles with Hutch's head lying against his chest.  Joy ran through him, replacing the blood in his veins and the marrow in his bones.  Eyes closed, he slowly returned to the awareness of the feel of the rapidly cooling water and Hutch's warm breath against his skin.  Never had he experienced anything as intense as the climax they'd just shared.  Starsky knew that their lives would never be the same again.

 

He just hoped he - they - could survive the change.   

 

***

 

Coffee cup in hand, Starsky leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on another chair as he watched his partner move around the kitchen.  Starsky had been shocked to find out that he'd slept the entire day away after Dennis' shot and that the glow he'd seen outside his bedroom window was from the setting sun.  By the time they'd recovered enough to finish Starsky's shower, the house was in full darkness.

 

They'd both felt a little shy with each other after the passion had been satisfied.  Starsky smiled into his raised cup as he thought about the pale pink blush that flooded Hutch's cheeks everytime their eyes met.  Hutch had left the bathroom first to get dry clothes from his room, leaving Starsky to go back to his own room to dress.  But Hutch had been waiting for him outside his bedroom door and they'd gone downstairs together.  Starsky had offered to help fix them a late supper, but Hutch insisted he could do it faster on his own.

 

"Hutch, where did your parents go?"  Starsky loved the way Hutch's hair swung against his collar as he turned to look at him.  But then, he knew that he loved everything about his partner.  Man, oh man, have you got it bad, Starsky.

 

Hutch smiled at him.  A smile so sweet and loving that Starsky felt warm all over.  "You remember the people they were supposed to go have drinks with last night?"  At Starsky's nod, he continued.  "Dad didn't want to risk losing the man's business so Mom and Dad took them out for dinner.  They told me not to expect them much before eleven as the restaurant's one of those really fancy ones that makes a production out of dinner." 

 

Picking up the plates he'd been fussing over, Hutch walked towards the table.  Starsky enjoyed watching his partner as he came to him.  Hair still slightly damp, powder blue shirt hanging loose over jeans, Hutch wasn't hard to look at.  Especially for someone as infatuated as Starsky knew himself to be.  Smiling down at Starsky, Hutch put the plates down on the table.  Starsky started to move his legs to allow Hutch to sit down on the chair when Hutch stopped him by the simple act of putting his hand on Starsky's knee.

 

Hutch leaned over him and touched Starsky's hair with his other hand.  "Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?"  He ran his hand through the curls hanging over Starsky's forehead as he locked gazes with Starsky.

 

Mesmerized by both Hutch eyes and the hand stroking his scalp, Starsky shook his head, enjoying the way Hutch's fingers lightly gripped his hair.  "Uh, I don't remember."  Starsky tried to smile but he couldn't seem to remember how that went either.

 

"Well, you are.  The most beautiful person I know and I can't believe how lucky I am to have you to love me."  Hutch leaned closer and quickly kissed Starsky's lips.  Letting go of Starsky's hair, he straightened up and patted Starsky's knee.  "Eat your sandwich, partner.  Can't have you wasting away on me."

 

Starsky put his feet down on the floor and shifted in his chair so he was sitting facing the table.  Staring down at the sandwich, Starsky wondered if he'd ever get over the awe that he felt every time Hutch kissed him.  Or touched him or even simply looked at him with love in his eyes.  It was wonderful and scary at the same time, but he'd no sooner give up feeling this way than he'd give up his left hand.

 

"What's the matter?  I know it's not one of those weird concoctions you try to pass off as food, but it's good."  Hutch grinned at him from where he sat, touching knees with Starsky.

 

Starsky grinned back.  "Nothing's wrong.  Just wondering if this green stuff is lettuce or kelp or something."

 

"It's lettuce, smart guy.  Just eat.  You're going to need your strength."

 

Starsky almost choked on the bite of sandwich in his mouth.

 

He hadn't realized just how hungry he was until he'd polished off the first sandwich and caught himself eyeing the half still on Hutch's plate.  "Is there enough for another one, Hutch?"

 

Hutch pushed his plate towards Starsky.  "Eat this.  I had something earlier when Karl and Rickie were here."

 

Starsky looked up in interest at the mention of his lawyer's name.  "Did Karl have any news?"

 

Settling back in his chair, Hutch rested his coffee cup on his chest, holding it with both hands as he watched Starsky eat.  "Yeah, good news.  Karl took Rickie to talk to the DA.  Then the DA called in Inglehart and Cruthers' captain and had Rickie repeat everything to him.  The upshot of all that were two warrants - one for Chris' boyfriend on statutory rape and one for her father on assault.  They also called up child services and had Chris and her younger brother removed from the house."

 

"So it's all settled then?"

 

"Looks like it.  Apparently, Chris came clean to the two new detectives they sent to talk to her.  Told them basically the same story she told Rickie.  They've dropped the investigation against you and Karl's pushing for a full written apology from the department.  And he's also pushing for disciplinary action against those two SOBs."

 

Starsky felt almost light-headed with relief.  "How come you didn't tell me this earlier?  You knew how scared I was."  Starsky pushed his plate away and stood to stare down at his partner.

 

Hutch didn't react to Starsky's anger.  Calmly he took a sip from his cup and then grinned self-consciously at Starsky.  "I was going to as soon as I knew you were awake enough to understand.  Then we...uh...got busy and it kind of slipped my mind until now."

 

Sitting back down, Starsky crossed his arms on the table.  "God, I can't believe it's all over.  Just like that."  He dropped his head onto his arms.  "I gotta tell you, Hutch, I've never been that scared in my life.  All of a sudden I had so much to lose and those two were so determined to take it all away."  Starsky heard Hutch's cup clunk against the tabletop; then Hutch's hand was on Starsky's neck.

 

"It's okay now, Starsk.  It's all over.  You're okay, Chris is going to get the help she needs, and the real guilty ones are going to be punished."  Hutch rubbed the sensitive skin on Starsky's neck, causing warm shivers to race through Starsky's body.  He relaxed under the caress and listened to Hutch's soft voice.

 

"Last night after everyone went home, I couldn't sleep.  All I could think of was you shut up in that room for all those hours, not knowing what was going on.  I know how you hate being cooped up and when I found out that they left you bound too...."  Hutch's swallow was loud in the quiet kitchen.  Starsky almost lifted his head to look at his partner when Hutch started again.  "I checked on you when I was getting ready for bed.  I wanted to make sure you were breathing okay.  I used to do that when I first brought you home from the hospital.  You were so fragile then.  Even though all the doctors said that you were perfectly fine to go home, I worried.  What if your heart acted up again, or that lung collapsed?  God, Starsk, there were so many ways I could still have lost you.  I was so afraid that you'd die on me."

 

Hutch's still hand lay heavy on Starsky's neck, but Starsky wouldn't have moved for the world.

 

"Last night was so much like those first days, days when I listened for every breath that you took.  Every time you moved in your sleep, I'd be sure that you were struggling for air or something.  Last night I finally did the one thing I wanted to do so badly all those nights last year.  I crawled into bed with you and held you in my arms.  You barely woke, even a little.  Just cuddled up against me like you belonged there.  That was the first night in far too long that I really slept.  I knew you were safe and I'd die to keep you that way."  Hutch moved against Starsky, lying his head on Starsky's back.

 

"I could hear your heart beating, Starsk.  Hear every breath you took and it was like some kind of lullaby.  I want to sleep like that every night for the rest of my life."

 

"Let me up, Hutch."

 

Hutch's head lifted off of Starsky's back and Starsky sat up.  Before Hutch could move away, Starsky grabbed one of his hands.  "Are you saying that you want us to live together, Hutch?"

 

"Starsky, I'd marry you if they'd let us.  I want to sleep with you, wake with you, fight with you, love with you, and simply be with you for the rest of my life.  If you'll have me." 

 

Starsky knew exactly what he wanted to say to Hutch, but he couldn't get his voice to work.  He sat and stared at the man he'd loved for what seemed like all his life and was speechless.  Holding on to Hutch's hand, Starsky slowly shook his head, then realized he was giving the wrong message to Hutch as his partner tried to pull his hand away.

 

Tightening his grip, Starsky looked down at the two hands clenched on the tabletop.  "Hutch, you know I love you.  I've loved you as my friend for a long time.  You're the best thing that ever happened to me.  When I asked if you were asking me to live with you, I thought that was all I wanted.  To, like you said, sleep with you in my arms every night for the rest of my, our lives.  And if you'd said that was what you wanted, I'd have been happy with that.  But this, well, it's damn big, Hutch." 

 

Starsky looked back up at Hutch.  "I want to marry you too.  There must be some way that we can, even if it's not entirely legal.  We just have to figure it out."

 

Hutch's smile was soft and loving.  "We have time, Starsky.  Let's just worry about living together first.  Who knows, maybe we won't be able to stand being together all the time.  We do have pretty different attitudes to lots of things."

 

"Ah, I've put up with your weird eating habits and your terrible taste in cars all these years.  I can't see us splitting up over anything as little as not putting the top back on the toothpaste tube or any of the other dumb stuff couples break up over."  Starsky grinned.

 

"Couple.  God, I like the sound of that."  Hutch grinned back. 

 

Starsky moved in the chair until their knees were touching and he could reach out his hand to lay it against Hutch's cheek.  "I love you, Hutch.  I really do and I want to live with you for as long as you'll put up with me.  But I think we're really going to have to tell your parents now."

 

Hutch leaned into Starsky's hand, rubbing against it.  Starsky half expected him to start purring.  "Why now?  Nothing's changed that much from before."

 

"Oh yeah, it has.  You don't think it would be kinda mean to let them come back after a year and find out you'd moved.  And had a new roomie?  Besides, Dennis already knows about us, and although I don’t think he'd tell, it's bound to get back to your folks."

 

"Dennis knows?  How the hell does Dennis know?"  Hutch sat up straight, grabbing Starsky's other hand.

 

"Well....  He kinda guessed and I told him how it stood between us."  Quickly Starsky told his partner about the conversation he'd had with Dennis the morning before.  Hutch wasn't happy about his brother-in-law knowing so much about them.

 

"Why couldn't you have just denied it?  How come you can lie so well undercover but you can't help but tell the truth when it's personal?"  Hutch glared at Starsky.

 

"Hutch, it seemed like the smart thing at the moment.  And, damn it anyway, I thought you wanted the whole family to know.  What's the matter, you ashamed of us?  Of me?"  Starsky wasn't sure if he was truly angry or if what he was feeling was hurt.

 

They sat, glaring at each other.  Hutch still held Starsky's hand, holding it against his thigh.  Starsky still held onto Hutch's other hand on the table.  Neither giving an inch.  Then Hutch frowned and closed his eyes.  "Aw, damn it, Starsky.  How come you're always right?  No, I'm not ashamed of us.  And I've never been ashamed of you.  I've never been ashamed to have you for my friend or my partner.  And I'm damn proud to have you for my lover.  I'll be proud of that for the rest of my life."

 

He opened his eyes again and pulled on both sets of clenched hands until they rested against his chest and Starsky was leaning a little towards him.  "I love you, you big idiot.  I want to tell the whole world how much I love you.  I'm scared.  It's taken my family and me a long time to get to where we are and I'm afraid to rock the boat.  But if having you means losing them, then I guess that's the way it'll have to be."  Hutch pulled Starsky closer and kissed him.  Drawing back Hutch smiled forlornly.

 

"You're right, partner.  My folks have got to know.  Tomorrow night the family's coming over for dinner.  We'll tell them then.  And God help us.  I think we may need it."

 

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