Cross words and Puzzles

by provencepuss

A post SR story: Starsky suffers psychological repercussions from the shooting in the garage. In its original form this runs to 55 chapters - I don't understand why the divisions disappear when I upload, sorry for the inconvenience

CROSS WORDS AND PUZZLES

Hello darkness my old friend; I've come to talk with you again.
Because a vision softly creeping; left its seeds while I was sleeping.
And the vision that was planted in my brain still remains; within the sound of silence (Simon and Garfunkel)

Starsky was taking a long time to recover this time.
It wasn't the physical recovery although God knows that had taken long enough.

The psychological fallout had really taken Hutch and the others by surprise. Starsky refused to speak to anyone. He stayed locked in his silence. Now he was in a psychiatric clinic doing jigsaw puzzles and refusing to make eye-contact with anyone.

Six months.
Two months for each of the bullets that had ripped his body and almost taken his life.

Hutch had doggedly gone on with his job – tracing all the way to the top and finally arresting Gunther. He'd come running when Starsky's heart stopped the first time and he'd prayed like he'd never prayed before – stuck in San Francisco dealing with the arrest formalities when word came that his heart had stopped for a second time.
Somewhere in the coming and going between investigation and bedside vigil, Hutch had seen Starsky surface for a few sweet moments. Time enough for him to hysterically rattle off the computer printout in his hands; time enough for Starsky to smile before he sank back into the coma. Gunther was already in jail and Starsky lay surrounded by the tubes that took fluids in and out of his body with monitors beeping and bleeping to prove that yes, he was still alive.

In the darkness he was clinging to the sound of those beeps like a lifebelt.

The doctors were amazed that he had survived. One bullet had seared through a lung; another had nicked his spleen tearing a length of gut on the way; and a third had narrowly missed his spinal column. And there were the broken bones too. Two ribs were fractured when he fell and the cardiac massage had broken two more.
His right arm and collar bone were both broken. Two cardiac arrests had severely limited the blood flow to his brain long enough for there to be a possibility of permanent damage…brain damage.
Hutch stood with Lily Starsky while the doctor explained that until her son gained total consciousness there was no way of knowing what his recovery possibilities would be. They took it in turns to sit in vigil by his bedside. Hutch took the nightshift; Lily took the day shift while Hutch grabbed a few hours sleep before going on with the investigation.

All Starsky could feel was pain. His body hurt in ways he could never have imagined - and God know he'd been in pain often enough. He knew that he wasn't dead; but he wasn't too sure whether he was alive. He could hear voices somewhere in the distance - the noise in his head made it difficult to hear what they were saying.
He was floating somewhere between life and death and he was going to fight every inch of the way to get to the right side of the divide.

Why can't I tell them I'm here? Hutch? Can you hear me, Hutch?
He was shouting in his head but instinctively he knew that there were no words coming out of his mouth.
So thirsty.
Momma?
Momma where are you it's dark in here and I'm scared!
Can't breathe.
It hurts too much.

It's like swimming deep underwater and not being able to get back to the surface.
There's a light over there – but I don't want to go.
I can hear you calling me…dad…Terri… but I'm not ready to leave them yet.

Aw mom, don't cry – I'm trying to get back.
It's so dark and cold here.
So thirsty.
So much pain.

Why is everything fading?...getting colder?...

The monitor by the bed signaled cardiac arrest. Dobey watched in horror as the staff arrived in their calm way – they walked quickly but seemed unhurried. He rushed to a 'phone and told Hutch to get back here as quickly as he could.

While a nurse prepared to cut the bandages on Starsky's torso an intern started cardiac massage and another nurse took up the steady pumping of the respirator. The doctor applied the paddles and they stood back as Starsky's torso jolted with the first shock. There was no sign of a reaction.

Ow what was that? Jolted through me like and made every bone in my body rattle…again?...why are they torturing me like this…Ow, that one hurt even more…
Hey it's getting warmer…the light has gone…I can't see you anymore dad. Terri?
I can hear my heart beating. It sounds like a drum in my head. Something is sucking at my chest…

Hutch arrived just in time to see the doctor try again and again. He prayed, begged and pleaded with a god he hadn't turned to for years to please spare his partner.
The medical team stepped back from the bed and Hutch raised his head to see that the monitor had resumed its steady, monotonous and heart-warming beep beep beep beep….

Hutch sat his lonely vigil…sometimes he was relieved by Lily, sometimes by Dobey or Huggy; but the truth was he dared not go too far away in case Starsky died and he wasn't there to say goodbye.

Tubes entered and left Starsky's body - evacuating his bladder and his gut; feeding him with a saline drip and boosting his strength with new blood.
Dobey followed Hutch's gaze.
"He'll pull through, Ken. You know that he doesn't give up easily."
"Yea. But this time the damage is massive. The doc said he was lucky not to lose his spleen. They still don't know if his liver is OK."

Finally Hutch agreed to go out and get on with his job – and Huggy ran after him to keep him company.

There was a brief moment when Hutch believed that Starsky had recovered. He was sitting by the bed poring over a computer read-out when he saw his partner's eyes flicker. But it didn't last long and Starsky sank back into his coma.

Gunther was arrested and in jail and Hutch spent every day with Lily. They took it in turns to go to the bathroom or to get something to eat. Days passed into weeks and Starsky lay on his back with a peaceful smile on his face as the machines pumped and hissed and kept him alive.

Lily had gone to get some rest and Hutch was alone with Starsky.

Hutch is there...I can sense him even if he says nothing….what was it bubba Starsky said about don't let the sun set on your arguments…hey buddy…I still want that dinner.

I see them again… they are holding their hands out to take me with them. I'm not ready…but dad says the pain will go if I follow him. It hurts. My whole body hurts.
Terri…I still love you. Why didn't you marry me? I want to be with you…will the pain go?
No I'm not ready yet. Mom doesn't want me to go yet…she loves me too. I gotta hang on and fight back. I love you Terri, but I'm not ready to come with you yet.
Too many things to settle here.
You taught me not to run away dad…I'm staying here.

Everything hurts… Worse than after the worst fight with a tough guy…feel like I've been run over by a truck….

Hutch listened to the beeping of the monitors. The doctors were pretty sure that Starsky would breathe without assistance – but they were not ready to take the risk yet and the respirator hissed and sighed as it filled and emptied his lungs.
Hutch needed a leak. He was quick as he could be. Something attracted his attention when he returned. He would never know why…but he sensed that something had changed. He went to the read-out that came from one of the monitors…it showed the brain's activity. Hutch looked at it and saw the pattern – it looked like something he had seen on the TV after an earthquake. He rang for a nurse.
The nurse looked at the paper and went to find the neurologist.

"Something's happening…no doubt about it… but I can't say what. It could be that he is dreaming…or that his body is reacting to pain…."

Well give the kid a prize. Pain – that's what it is….
My whole fucking body hurts….

The needle quivered again and traced a furious series of peaks on the paper.

"He reacted…I'm sure he reacted." Hutch said urgently. "Does that mean he can maybe hear us doc?"

Of course I can hear you…but you can't hear me.
Listen Hutch; listen in that part of your mind that links to mine…I'm calling out to you buddy…help me get back

Hutch sat by the bed and took his friend's hand in his again.
He sat for a while; silent and still; and then it happened. He wasn't imagining it…Starsky's hand moved. Hutch changed position so that his hand was in Starsky's and waited. And waited. He bowed his head in defeat; "maybe I imagined it."

Hang on to me buddy…. I'm trying to get back…I need you to help me…hold my hand and don't let me fall back….
Hutch felt Starsky's fingers move; he waited and this time he felt a pressure on his hand. The needle was moving fast again.
Hutch thought he saw a sign of life from Starsky. One of the long-lashed eyelids had flickered.
"Starsk? Are you coming back to us? Hey buddy."

Thirsty. My mouth is so dry…feels like the Mojave Desert in here.
Another effort…here we go….

He gripped Hutch's hand again. Hutch felt the strong slender fingers close around his own.
"He gripped my hand I felt it. Doc he moved."

Ok let's see what else I can do.

"He opened his eyes…look he's opened his eyes. Starsk – hey Starsk, can you hear me."

And the winner of the dumb question of the month is Ken Hutchinson from Duluth Minnesota.
Shit I wish I could laugh.

Hutch watched Starsky's eyes carefully – yes his partner; his best friend, could hear him.
"I'm going to call your mom…she's getting some rest; I'll be right back."

Aw shit I hope she isn't gonna cry
What is this thing in my mouth?
No wonder I'm so dry.

"We'll know in a day or two whether he's going to make it or not. And even if he does...he's going to need a very long time to recover. He won't be fit to work for months."
"Months!"
"A few more weeks for the broken bones to heal. And I would guess another month or two for full recovery. He'll have to go to a rehab facility. He's a veteran isn't he?"
Hutch nodded sadly.
"That means he has the right to go to a military rehab - and frankly they have the best facilities. Of course all this is assuming that there isn't brain damage."
Hutch sat upright. "Brain damage?"
"He had two cardiac arrests; his brain didn't get all the blood it needed. We can evaluate most damage easily enough - his broken bones and his damaged organs; but we can only know the extent of the effect of all this on his brain when - if he comes round. Then we can ask him to carry out simple actions and..."
"...and know if he's a vegetable or not!"
"I wouldn't put it like that but...yes, depending on his responses."

I'm not a fucking vegetable!
"Won't someone please give me something to drink?
So thirsty!

There were two nurses in the room now; removing the breathing tube and checking some of the monitors. Starsky felt the pressure between his teeth relax

"Thanks"…his voice was barely audible. One of the nurses smiled and said "it's a pleasure to have you with us again. I guess your mouth is pretty dry – I'll get you something." She returned with a goblet and a straw – one of those bendy things kids get at the burger joint. Before she could hold it to his lips Lily Starsky burst into the room; followed closely by Hutch.
"Davey, oh my baby, oh my sweet Davey."
He winked at Hutch. At least he hoped he had; it felt like it anyhow.
She took the goblet. "Here you are sweetheart; momma's here to help you with this. Take little sips – remember when you had your tonsils out…all that ice-cream you had."
She turned to the nurse. "He could maybe have some ice-cream now?"
Starsky noted how his mom's voice took back its Yiddish cadences when she got carried away with emotion and flicked a grin at Hutch. This time he could see that it worked. Hutch grinned back.
"I think maybe just water for now Mrs. Starsky; then we'll see what the doctor says about ice-cream."

The doctor said "No." He explained that Starsky had suffered massive damage and that although there was no evidence of digestive problems there was still a long way to go before he could have solid food.
"Some chicken soup maybe?"
"Not even chicken soup yet, Mrs. Starsky. In a day or two maybe…but for now I'll arrange for a new drip feed."
He turned his attention to his patient. "Welcome back. We really thought we'd lost you back there; you have a heart like an ox. And willpower – I'm sure of that."

Wait for it…"Stubborn as a mule".

"Stubborn as a mule when he wants to be." Hutch said.
"My Davey was always determined to get his own way."

Just like his father
"Just like his father" Lily chorused.

"Now I think that David should be left to rest. You may stay with him Mrs. Starsky – but please let him get excited."

"Don't worry doc – she'll get hysterical enough for both of us!" His voice was strained but his mother heard him clearly enough.
"Davey!"
"I love you mom."
Lily started to cry.
I knew it!
He drifted off again – but this time he was only asleep. Lily turned worried eyes to the doctor and for the first time Hutch noticed how much her son resembled her.
"He's very weak; he'll drift in and out of consciousness for a while; but don't worry, I really don't think we will lose him now."
Not if I can help it you won't!

Hutch left them and went to give the good news to the Dobey family and Huggy.

It was a long time before he could get out of bed. His right leg wasn't cooperating with his left leg; there had been a little neurological damage after all.
"He's young and in good health," the doctor assured Lily, "we'll have him back on his feet again."

He was in the hospital for another few weeks; waiting for his bones to set. Lily stayed until she was sure that her son was on the road to recovery and then returned to New York to help look after her second grandchild – a girl born while her uncle David was still lingering on the borders between life and death.

Starsky took stock of his situation. He'd been out cold for a month he didn't need to be told that the bandaging on his torso was not as tight a fit as it had been when it was put on.
He decided to make a few tests of his own. He took a deep breath. Fingers first, I think; Right hand? All present and correct. Left hand (please God, I promise I'll observe every holiday; please...)...phew; well it won't hurt me to starve for 24 hrs once a year; I managed it last year after all.

He rested again for a while and then went back to concentrating on his legs that were hidden under the covers. At least he hoped they were. He moved his right hand gingerly and lifted the covers. Yep, there they were; he concentrated hard and was amazed to see a slight movement in a big toe - the pain told him how dumb he had been to try. Well at least I know that one works...now for the other...
Fuck! Tears ran down his cheek; tears of pain fear and frustration.

He couldn't resist making sure that everything else was still there too - all those tubes were beginning to worry him. All present and correct...well I'll check that out later - hope there's a pretty nurse in this joint. The door opened and the answer to his earlier wish came in. This nurse was a doll...slim; fair hair in a pony tail; pretty hazel eyes...Starsky thought lewd thoughts and grinned in secret relief.
"I've come to check your catheter"
Oh shit!
She pulled back the covers and smiled - "I see you are feeling better!"
"Uh... I... uh...I just woke up, guess I must have been dreaming..."
"Sweet dreams!"
"Better than the nightmares my leg is giving me."
"Oh. I see. I'll ask the doctor to come and explain things to you."
"Why is it that I don't like the sound of that?"

The doctor was reassuring. "Your leg will be OK in time. One of the bullets came close to your spinal column and there's still a little pressure on the cord...and when your heart stopped the blood supply to the brain was interrupted – that may have compromised something too. That leg has been badly damaged in the past hasn't it? I saw the bone scars on your X-rays; when did that happen?"
"Nam. Doc? Even Hutch doesn't know how bad that was..."
"Your secret is safe with me...I'm impressed though - you obviously keep fit and you are a first class cop."
"Mind over matter I guess. Plus I had good care."
"Well you'll be going to the military rehab when you've healed, so I guess you know what to expect."
"I'll tell Hutch ...no Huggy to bring me food parcels!"
"Close your eyes – I want to do a little test." Starsky closed his eyes obediently – he had a feeling he knew what was coming and he crossed his fingers.
The doctor took the end of his stethoscope and slid it along the sole of Starsky's foot. There was no reaction; he tried again. A toe moved.
"What did you feel, David?"
"Nothing. What was I supposed to feel?"
"I stimulated the sole of your foot twice. The first time there was no reaction" Starsky sighed and closed his eyes. "But the second time, there was a weak reflex shown in your toe."
"So, I wasn't too good at biology in school, I only listened to the bit about the rabbit. What does it mean?"
"It means that I think your leg is going to recover. But it's going to take a long time and hard work in Rehab."
"How long?"
"I can't say; it rather depends on your determination. You are young, fit - it's going to be a case of how long it takes your nerves to remember how to tell your muscles what to do."

Starsky looked at him - his deep blue eyes seemed to penetrate the doctor's consciousness.
"Just one more question doc."
"Yes?"
"Was that the good news; or the bad news?"
"Let's see what the X-rays say."
Starsky lay on the X-ray table and obeyed the orders to hold his breath and not move while the technician took the slides of his arm, shoulder and torso.
He lay back in pain while the shots were developed.
The doctor came back with the X-rays and put them onto the viewing lamp.

"I want to take another shot of your back - I think we may have better news than I thought."
Gently the nurse helped Starsky roll over onto his side so that the technician could focus on the base of his spine.
"Breathe in; don't breathe," the machine buzzed; "you can breathe out now."
Starsky rolled back and lay still, waiting for the next photo to arrive on the reading lamp.

What did he see? Please God; let it be good news. I'm too scared to go through this without Hutch!

The doctor studied the X-ray for what seemed to Starsky like a half hour.
"David; you'll be back on your feet sooner than I thought. There is a lot of bruising on your spinal column and the pressure is on the main nerve to your leg. I'm going to put you under, and relieve the pressure. You'll still need rehab for the other leg; but…"
"But I might not need a candy-apple red wheelchair!"
Starsky laughed with relief before moaning as the pain reasserted itself.
He watched as the doctor prepared a syringe to prep him for surgery.
"I really hate those things, doc; ever since some nut tried to kill me with one."
"Just hold out your arm. Now I want you to start counting down from one hundred."
"Hundred…ninety-nine…ninety-eight…ninety-seven…nine..ty…sicsh…ni…ni..ninety fi…."
By the time the gurney was out in the corridor Starsky was fast asleep

Starsky was lying half propped up; when he heard the door open he tried to turn his face into the pillows that were puffed up around his head. He wasn't quick enough and Dobey saw the glistening trail of a tear on the young man's cheek.
He sat down gently and took Starsky's hand. "Are you hurting, son?"
"Yeah. I had a painkiller but...it's not just my body that hurts...it's my whole being. I'm scared Captain...I'm really scared because this time I don't think I'll be back on the beat."
"Come on Starsky; you always bounce back eventually."
"Not this time...not if I'm not gonna be able to walk again."
Dobey stared at him. "What?"
"I can't feel one of my legs. Doc says it'll get better but…. They're gonna transfer me to Veterans Rehab in a coupla days..." he sniffed...
"I guess I'll just have to paint the wheelchair candy apple red!"

Dobey sat speechless for a second. He looked at Starsky who was leaning back on his pillows and making a feeble attempt to wipe his nose with a finger.
Dobey took a Kleenex and gently wiped Starsky's face.
"Listen to me Starsky; you are not going to end up in a wheelchair - and that's an order!" Starsky turned a lop-sided grin at the fat man sitting next to him.
"OK, Cap'n; for once I'll try to follow orders - but we have to make a deal, OK?
"Shoot.
"I make a big effort to walk out of rehab; and you lose twenty pounds."
"I already lost a few worrying about you…but you're right, if I don't lose some weight it's gonna be me in the hospital."
"Deal; and our secret."
"The doctor says your internal damage is mending nicely but you're going to have to be patient…bones heal in their own time and nothing you can do will speed that up. Relax and let your body heal."
Dobey sensed that there was more on Starsky's mind; "your record doesn't tell everything about the injury in 'Nam, does it son?"
Starsky looked at him calmly – a calm that Dobey usually expected to announce the storm; no storm came
"No. I didn't want anyone to know…especially my mom. When they got me to the field hospital I had to fight them to stop them taking the leg off there and then. They shipped me out direct to a hospital ship…the two surgeons had this big argument over my bed; one wanted to take it off and the other said it could be saved.
Lucky for me the second guy won. I had all kinds of surgery – mostly on the knee – and by the time I got to Hawaii it felt like they'd cut it off and sewn it back on again. The surgeon was a great seamstress – the scars on my knee are so fine you can hardly see 'em – and well I have nice hairy legs to cover the rest.
I was in that place for six months…yeah, I know the record shows two months…that's 'cos I found a pretty lady in the records department and…uh…charmed her into changing things. Six months of slowly learning to walk again. I had a couple more ops along the way too. If I did it back then I guess I can do it now."
What could Dobey say? He knew that Starsky kept a lot of things to himself, but this…
"Well the rehab worked didn't it? I hear you can still out-run most of the force if you put your mind to it"
"Yeah…and sometimes I pay for it later…but I have something that eases the pain. And I have Hutch to keep an eye on – that's what'll drive me Cap'n knowing that the Blond Blintz wouldn't survive in the jungle without me." He winked and smiled. "Only kidding; he does just fine on his own. He brought in the bastard that wanted me dead, after all."
The 'phone rang on the night stand and Starsky reached painfully over to answer it. Dobey knew better than to help him.
"Hi, mom….getting better…yes mom…Mom? …I'll call you Friday, I promise…" He blew a kiss into the mouth piece. "..I promise…shalom momma."
"You're lucky to have her Dave, she loves you."

As a veteran Starsky had the right to be admitted to the VA rehabilitation unit – generally considered to be one of the best in California. The therapists would be tough with him – but if he was going to walk again he had to follow orders. Those few seconds when the oxygen didn't make it to his brain had taken their toll; not just his leg, but his right arm too. He arrived in a wheelchair; a drab gray standard issue wheelchair.

Veterans' Rehab...Starsky was effectively back under army rules and regulations!
He was wheeled into his room and helped into bed. The nurse explained his daily routine for the next week or two. Two hours of physiotherapy in the morning. One hour of exercises to back it up. Lunch at mid-day. Another couple of hours of treatment in the afternoon; followed by exercise and a massage. Lights out at nine-thirty.
"When will I be able to fit in a little R&R?"
"That is not what you are in here for officer!"
"Whoooo!"

It was kind of funny though. The last time he'd been in here he was a simple GI; no rank, no privileges - except that he was considered a 'hero' and so he got a little more TLC that some of the others. Plus there had been Dr. Laurence!
This time he was in as a veteran and as a cop in active service...and he had a Police rank that got him officer treatment.

Starsky was still trying to figure out how best to get around the situation when the door opened and a big muscular guy came in. He was bald and built like the Hulk; except he was black not green. He wore a white tank top and white jogging pants which exaggerated the effect of his muscles. Starsky felt like the proverbial beach-side wimp compared to this guy.
"Officer Starsky?"
"That's me!"
"I'm Bill and I'm your physiotherapist." Starsky dismissed all fantasies of a lithe blonde helping him with his rehab.
"I've come to assess you leg and arm and see what we need to do."
"Great. Hey, be gentle, I'm ticklish."
Bill drew back the bed covers and looked at Starsky's leg. "Looks OK to me; you're pretty strong, aren't you? How much do you work against in the gym?"
"I never work in the gym. I run (but don't tell my partner) I chase bad guys; I play a little tennis and swim sometimes."
"OK, how much do you weigh?"
"Hundred sixty five...well normally I do anyways. I guess after what those guys did to me and the hospital food I might have lost a bit"
"OK, I'll weigh you down in the gym. That way I can figure out what to pitch you against. Have you tried to stand on your own yet?"
Starsky looked away.
This guy seems straight up; I guess I can trust him
He turned back to Bill. "To be honest, I've been too scared to find out if I can or not. I reckon with you here to catch me..."
""That's what I'm here for. Listen, I've looked in your file; you've been through one hell of a bad time. I'm here to help you, not bully you. So what do you say we see if you can stand up on your own? I'll be right here to catch you, OK?"
Starsky took a deep breath and nodded.
"One other thing, Dave; you call me Bill. Now sit up properly...I'm not going to help you here..."
Starsky sat up and swallowed hard.
"Don't be ashamed to yell."
"Thanks!"
"Now, swing your left leg and then the right over the edge of the bed. Take your time and concentrate..."
"Starsky slid the left leg over the edge of the bed with no difficulty. He frowned with concentration as he willed his right leg to follow; then fell back on the pillow in disgust. He was fighting back the tears.
"It's OK Dave, let it go if you want; I expected that...I just wanted to see how determined you are. So let's see what this leg will and won't do with or without your help?"
Bill took Starsky's ankle and gently pushed it up and back to bend the knee.
"Try to resist me, OK?"
Starsky willed his muscles to push against Bill's strong pressure.
"That's great man, what did you feel?"
"Frustrated! I didn't feel a fucking thing, if you must know."
"Don't worry. You were resisting me hard - even if you couldn't feel it. Ok now I'm going to try the opposite. You push your foot away and I'll keep the leg bent."
Once again Starsky closed his eyes and willed his foot down. He felt a slight flicker in the thigh muscle. He opened his eyes and Bill grinned at him reassuringly.
"You felt something that time, didn't you?"
"Yeah...I mean...I think so...it kinda flickered."
"Next stage; are you ready?"
"Go for it!"
"OK, I'm not going to help you this time; you're on your own. Bend your knee."
"Starsky closed his eyes and concentrated hard. He felt something; but it was a weird sensation.
"Ok that's fine. Want to see what you did?"
Starsky opened his eyes warily; the knee was slightly bent and his foot had moved maybe two inches back. He grinned.
"What about my arm?"
"Oh I'll sort that out, no problem. That's enough for now. Of course if you want to practice and show off to me tomorrow; it's up to you man. I'll see you tomorrow at ten...in the gym!"
"Get the weights ready."

Starsky watched Bill leave and lay back. He was still scared; but he knew that he was going to make it. Bill's method was so different from what he'd gone through the last time he'd been in this place. Back then, they'd hauled him out of bed and put him on a kind of ramp with parallel handrails and left him there until he took a step. He'd stood unsteadily for a half hour before they took pity on him.

He stared at his foot.
OK, let's see if I can do it on my own.

When Hutch came to visit him the next morning he found Starsky propped up against the pillows with a magazine resting on his two bent knees.
Starsky grinned up at his friend. "I cheated a little, but I did most of it myself."
He pushed back the covers; "Watch this," he said and Hutch saw him slide his right foot so that his leg started to straighten again. Starsky pushed his knee a little to help things along.

"Hey man, I thought I told you to be in the gym at ten am! You're in an army facility here, Officer!"
Starsky sketched a mocking salute and Bill laughed. "Well I guess five minutes is nothing!" "Watch this!" Starsky slowly lowered his left leg to the floor and then dragged the right leg across the bed. He set his feet a few inches apart and pushed himself up off the bed with his free hand. He swayed slightly and Bill put out a steadying hand.
"No! If I fall, catch me."
He stood for a second and then took a deep breath. He leaned slightly to the right to put his weight on his good leg and lifted his left foot. He fell backwards onto the bed and swore.
"Don't try to run before you can walk, Dave." Bill told him.
"I'm not trying to run; I just want to fucking walk! Sorry, it's not your fault. I'm stubborn that's all."
He hauled himself to his feet again and this time he let Bill guide him to the wheelchair.
"Catch you later, Blondie!"
Hutch grinned and went back to work.

Down in the gym Starsky was installed on a seat with his feet on the weight press. Bill had loaded it to 20lbs and Starsky was pumping away slowly, his teeth gritted with grim determination.
"Wait a minute," Bill stopped him, "right leg only now."
Starsky lowered his left leg out of the way and pushed - the weights only got halfway up the pulley this time. He gritted his teeth and pushed again; and again and again until he was pumping slowly but strongly. Bill left him to go on exercising for another few minutes.
Starsky was so determined to get back on his feet that he wasn't bothered by the aches and pains that he knew he'd have later. After a while Bill came over and released him. He led Starsky to a flat couch and told him to lie on his back. Bill started to massage his legs, easing the knotted muscles and helping them to relax.

"If you carry on like this you'll be out of here in no time; but don't overdo it Dave."
"You don't understand. I have to get out of here."
He looked across the room and saw the familiar parallel handrails. He nodded towards the apparatus. "Get me over there, will ya please, Bill?"
"Rest now and do it this afternoon."
"Now!" Starsky barked and Bill could tell that there would be no point in arguing.

Starsky stood with his left hand on the rail; his right arm hung by his side and he forced himself to place the hand on the other rail. He put his weight on his right foot and lifted the left He took a step forward and grinned. He put his weight on his left foot and bit his lower lip then moved his right foot. He staggered slightly, but he made it. Bill watched Starsky's mouth grinding in concentration as he slowly walked the length of the ramp. He managed to turn himself around and started to walk back. After a couple of steps he took his hands off the rails.

He turned to grin at Bill and nearly lost his balance. "Fuck!" He steadied himself and did a couple more return trips. After five minutes he was walking a little unsteadily, but without support.
Bill grinned at him. "Dave, you are the toughest bastard I ever had to deal with! Man you are amazing! I'd reckoned on a couple of days before you could get this far."
"Aries. Stubborn as a ram; I just keep butting my head against things until I get my own way! Now we have to work on my using a stick - right?"
"Right. How tall are you?"
"Five eleven; why?
"So I can get the stick to the right length. Do you want an elbow crutches or sticks?"
Starsky noted the use of the plural and swallowed hard. Damn tears come so easily right now!
"What do you think is best?"
Bill considered for a second. "I think you should use elbow crutches for a couple of days and then see how you get on with a stick; you're still weak remember. Wait there and I'll go find one for you."
Starsky took another little stroll along the ramp. He was aware that someone was watching him.

A young soldier was sitting working his arm muscles; he was staring at the way Starsky walked.
"Hey man, sorry I'm not a pretty blond, but I can't help the way I wiggle - that's a souvenir from my last stay here."
The boy smiled. "I wasn't thinking of that - I was thinking how lucky you are."
Starsky looked again - the kid had no legs.
"Yeah;" he said softly, "I guess I am. But hey, they can do pretty good stuff these days …you'll probably be on fake feet before you know it."
The boy smiled. "Thanks. I feel better already."

It was a long hard haul; but he made it and soon he was back home; taking one day at a time and slowly preparing himself for his first medical review board. Hutch had offered to come and stay but Starsky had brushed him off gruffly. "I don't need a nurse-maid."

And then he had another setback.
He woke up in pain…he was lying in a pool of blood. He managed to dial Hutch's number before he lost consciousness.
Hutch had been there before – a call in the middle of the night and a frantic ambulance ride with Starsky fading visibly.
Starsky was in hospital for another two weeks; he had overdone things and ruptured the wound in his gut.

Then it happened. The darkness closed in – but this time he was totally conscious. This time he embraced it.
Hutch found him. He was sitting on the bed staring blankly into space and rocking gently. He didn't respond when Hutch spoke to him.

Hutch had never seen him like this; oh sure, Starsky had his dark side, the side that after all these years Hutch still qualified as 'mysterious', but this time he'd closed up completely. The normally loquacious Starsky had not spoken a word for nearly six weeks. Not so much as a 'yes-no-please-thank you'. Just silence and a blank stare. The blank stare was something else too. Starsky had a way of communicating with his deep blue eyes that had got them out of trouble more than once. He could transmit a whole sentence to Hutch with a glance; Hutch could read him most of the time. His mind went back to when Van had been found dead in his apartment. Starsky had arrived and poured him a stiff drink, told him to drink it and asked him what happened – without actually uttering a word. Later he'd arrived to execute the arrest warrant; he'd insisted on handcuffing Hutch to the guy from IA and with a movement of his eyes indicated that in no way was he going to take his partner in. They'd left the other guy cuffed to the kitchen table.

In times of pain and in times of laughter, Starsky's eyes were always alive and expressive; and now they were blank. "The eyes are the window of the soul"; Hutch had read that somewhere – well right now it looked like even Starsky's soul had been switched off. As Starsky might have said; 'the lights are on but there's nobody home.'

Now those deep blue eyes were blank and stared out from above a thickly bearded gaunt face.

Hutch went to visit him every day. He sat for hours in silence watching as Starsky mechanically placed another piece of puzzle. He always started at the top. The shrink had noted this methodical approach and asked Hutch about Starsky's approach to life.
"Would you say that he is organized?" Hutch hadn't needed a second to reply. "Starsky is one of the neatest people I ever met; if that's what you need to know. He goes about most things in a logical way – unless he's working on some hunch or instinct."
"I see. Thank you Sergeant." And that was the end of the interview. Hutch still didn't know if the shrink had the information he needed.

Then the shrink had asked to visit Starsky's apartment. He said he wanted to see what was important in his patient's life. Hutch had taken him over there and stood back while the doctor made a quick tour of the apartment. Hutch had only had been a couple of times since the shooting. Once, at Starsky's request to take the stuff out of the fridge, the fruit bowl and the vegetable rack. "Use what you want and throw the rest out, OK." The second time had been to throw together a few clothes and stuff for Starsky when he was transferred to the clinic.

Now he stood in the apartment and tried to see what the doctor might be seeing. A neat, tidy, clean apartment that showed its owner's eclectic tastes. On a table there was a lamp with a beautiful Mexican pottery base, a bowl for fruit and a Menorah. The pictures on the walls included a girlie calendar from an Italian tire manufacturer, a series of vintage cars, a couple of modern paintings, and a sketch of a woman that Hutch had a hunch Starsky had drawn – he'd never asked, and he'd never been told.
In pride of place was the wrecked clay bust of Starsky – a reminder of a case where he'd accidentally blinded a young woman. The doctor stood and stared at it for a while and said nothing.
On the bureau stood one of Starsky's model ships – a full-rigged galleon; in his mind's eye Hutch saw himself handing Starsky a reel of cotton and a needle while his friend concentrated on the rigging and pretended that he wasn't hurting. "Does he have any particular hobbies?" The shrink's voice brought Hutch back to the present.
"Yes. He loves photography; he has a really good Nikon." Hutch went over to the coat-stand and found the camera hanging beneath Starsky's blue windcheater. He handed it to the doctor who turned it over appreciatively in his hands. "This is not exactly the amateur version."
"No, if Starsk wants to do something he wants to do it properly; and he's willing to pay for the best equipment."

The doctor had spotted the Menorah. "Interesting. Is that purely decorative or does he use it?" Hutch smiled at the memory. "Yes, he uses it. A couple of years ago he gave me a lesson in comparative religion while he was lighting the candles!"
The doctor continued his tour. "…almost compulsively neat…wide range of tastes…traditionalist…but a little unconventional at times…ah; what's this?" He stopped in front of Starsky's latest modeling project.
It was a small sloop. Starsky had been working on it the day they were called out to deal with what should have been a routine hold-up situation. In theory it was their day off; Hutch had dropped by to see if Starsky felt like going to see a movie and found his friend carefully drawing shapes on a sheet of balsa wood preparatory to cutting them with firm confident strokes with a modeling knife. "What are you making this time?" Starsky had replied by singing the Beach Boys song 'Sloop John B'. Hutch had laughed and joined in with the harmony line…they both pooped out when they realized that they would never hit the top notes.

Now Hutch looked at the sheet of balsa and the knife; it gave him an idea.
"Doctor Friedman?"
"Yes."
"Starsky loves making models; could we maybe take this to him?"
Friedman hesitated; Hutch could see that he was assessing the knife and its possible uses. "We don't usually allow our patients to have anything …dangerous…"
"You haven't seen his shaving kit yet, doc!" Hutch grinned. "Seriously though; can't he be allowed to use it under supervision or something? Starsky really loves making his models and it's been a kind of therapy to him in the past."
Friedman hesitated; "well all right, I'll make sure that he is supervised. To be honest I don't think he'd try to harm himself anyway. Now what's so special about his shaving kit?"
Hutch showed him. Friedman said nothing. The shaving kit stayed where it was.

So now Hutch was sitting in Starsky's room watching him finish yet another jigsaw puzzle. Friedman had decided to keep the model for a therapy session.
Starsky grunted in disgust as he realized that he had wrongly placed a piece of the puzzle. Hutch waited for the explosion and sure enough the puzzle went flying across the room. Starsky slumped back onto the pillows and a tear ran down his face. Hutch touched his arm and Starsky flinched away.
This was the pattern. Starsky would show some sign of emotion and Hutch would try to reach out to him; only to be rejected. Hutch stood up and began to gather the scattered pieces of cardboard. Starsky stared into space and made no move to help.
While Hutch was still picking up the pieces of puzzle (and wishing that he was picking up the pieces of Starsky's mind) an orderly came in to announce lunch. Hutch glanced at the bed – no reaction.
The orderly shrugged. "Either you come down and eat or you go without. If you won't eat you're back on the tube."
Starsky closed his eyes and turned his face to the pillow.
"I hate to have to do it to you; but we'll be back later with the feeding tube."
Hutch stopped him as he went out. "How long has it been going on this time?"
"Forty eight hours; it's the limit; either he comes to eat, or he's on the tube."
"Isn't there something I can do? Why don't you bring him a tray; I'll see if I can get him to eat…I'll even try to feed him."
The orderly shook his head. "I don't see why you should succeed where we can't; but OK…"
Ten minutes later Hutch was holding a forkful of meatloaf out to Starsky. He had to admit it smelled good – amazingly good for meatloaf; incredibly good for hospital meatloaf. "Come on Starsk…Dave, since when did you refuse gourmet meatloaf?"
Starsky didn't move. He stared into space. Hutch felt that he was staring through him rather than past him. He put down the fork sat on the bed and tried to look Starsky in the eye. He leveled his face directly in front of his partner's and focused on the familiar blue eyes in front of him. He recoiled. Starsky showed no sign of recognition; if Hutch hadn't seen him doing the jigsaw he would have believed Starsky to be blind.
"Oh buddy; oh Starsky where are you? What pain are you in that you won't even let me in there to help you?"
Starsky continued to stare at him; and then he turned away.
I don't know if I can trust you any more.

Hutch patted his cheek and returned to his chair. When the orderly returned he took one look at the tray and sighed. "The doctor will be along in a few minutes…he'll tube him."

Dr Friedman was an avuncular man in his late fifties. He'd worked with trauma victims during the Viet Nam war and had made a specialty of it ever since. His clinic was well-respected and the Police Department had even recommended it to victims of rape or other attacks who needed a little therapy to get over their experiences. Starsky and Hutch had met him a couple of years ago when he had taken over the care of Lieutenant Slate's daughter Leslie after she had been raped and her father had been arrested. Hutch had shown a certain wariness of Friedman's profession but Starsky had laughed it off. "Don't take any notice of him, Doc. He's just an uptight WASP who believes in self-help. Now me; I'm your average semi-neurotic Jewish boy who loves his momma too much and would give old Siggy hours of entertainment!"

Friedman had been impressed by the two cops who had brought Leslie Slate to him. The young woman had been raped; her mother was long dead and her father, a Police Captain, had been arrested for trying to kill the rapist. Starsky had led the girl into his office; his arm around her shoulders, holding her close to him protectively. Hutch had kept his distance – as Starsky had said; there was a chill air of Protestantism in his demeanor as far as Friedman was concerned. Friedman had already taken Hutch's measure and seen that the blond cop was not as self-confident as he liked to appear. The dark cop, however, intrigued him. He came across as bluff and naïf; but his intelligence shone out of his eyes like the beam from a lighthouse.

Now Starsky was in Friedman's care.

When he'd been called to Memorial to assess a case of post-traumatic shock the last person he expected to see lying in the bed was Detective Sergeant Dave Starsky.
He checked the chart. All the indicators were that Starsky should be up and out of bed and probably clamoring to be allowed to go home. Instead he had been lying in silence for a week, refusing to respond to any one and hardly ever eating. He was thin and his face was pale and drawn. He looked as if he'd been through Hell and back. Friedman knew that he was going to have to find out what that particular Hell had been. He had arranged for Starsky to be transferred to his clinic immediately.

Now, nearly a month later Friedman still had not broken through the wall that Starsky had built around his psyche; and worse, the young man frequently refused to eat.

Hutch stood up as Friedman came into the room.
"Are you really going to tube-feed him, doctor?"
"I'm afraid so…" he turned to Starsky, "unless you are willing to cooperate, David."
Starsky didn't react.
"I think it would be better if you left now, Hutch. Tube feeding can be pretty distressing – for the feeders as well as the patient."
"That sounds like a good reason for me to stay with him. I'm his best friend, even if right now he doesn't seem to care if I'm here or not."
"Very well. But please, whatever happens, don't try to intervene."
Hutch nodded his assent and returned to his chair.

Dobey was having a tough time with the Chief of Police.
"I'm sorry Dobey, but that is the regulation; Hutchinson must be allocated a temporary partner. I really can not see why you are so opposed; after all Meredith worked with Starsky easily enough while Hutchinson was hospitalized. Please make it plain to Hutchinson that he does not have a choice in this, and that if he wishes to object he knows where my office is. As far as I am concerned, the matter is closed. Meredith and Hutchinson go out on the streets together as of this afternoon."
"But you don't understand how it is between Starsky and Hutch."
The Chief raised an eyebrow. He had been appointed as an emergency replacement when his predecessor had died suddenly of a heart attack; he hoped that come the next elections he'd be confirmed in the post and he was busy asserting his reputation as a no-nonsense Chief of Police who got results and who ran a tight ship. He had heard that these two detectives were very close. "Are you implying…."
"It's nothing like that! Those guys are very close friends, that's all. They've worked together so long they operate almost like one person. Plus, there's something you don't know. When Meredith and Starsky worked together they…uh…uh… Hutch might not have the same rapport with her that's all."
"Or on the other hand, from what I've heard about him when it comes to his partner's girlfriends, he might. In any case, they are a team as of this afternoon two pm. Make sure that Hutchinson is present when Meredith reports on duty. And Dobey, that's an order!"

Dobey sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. This was not going to be easy…not one little bit. He went into the squad room in the vain hope that Hutch might be there.
Minnie looked up from the filing drawer where she was working. "He's with Starsky, Captain. Apparently there's been another incident."
Dobey returned to his office via the candy machine. He was unwrapping the candy bar while he dialed.
"Friedman Clinic; how can I help you?"
"I need to speak to detective Hutchinson; this is Captain Dobey speaking."
"Oh, Hutch; I'll page him for you."

Hutch was sitting in his chair and watching as Starsky was being fed through a tube in his nose. He'd never seen the procedure before and could well understand why it was used as a form of torture in some countries. Friedman had started by showing Starsky the tube and explaining that it would be passed through his nose down into his esophagus and down to his stomach thus enabling the direct introduction of nutrition to Starsky's system. Starsky had blinked and turned his face to the pillow.
Friedman called for the nurse and orderly to help him. As Starsky struggled the two of them managed to hold him in position and Friedman introduced the tube.
"If you struggle it will be worse, David. You know what to do; swallow and relax."
Starsky looked at him and for a second Hutch was sure that he saw pure hatred flash in his friend's eyes. Starsky suddenly went limp and Friedman started the feeding process. He started to pour a protein solution into the funnel at the end of the feeding tube. The nurse held the funnel up so that the liquid would run down the tube and into Starsky's stomach. Starsky gagged.
There was a knock at the door and a nurse came in to tell Hutch that Dobey was on the 'phone.
"Tell him I'll call back."
"He says it's urgent."
Hutch took her to one side. "When Starsky and I don't want to hear our Captain we pretend that the radio isn't working. I am asking you to pretend you couldn't find me; OK? Say you think maybe I'm in the men's room, anything…tell him that you will ask me to call him back immediately."
She nodded her head and slipped out of the room.
Hutch went over to the bedside and took Starsky's hand in his.
"I'm right here Starsk." He got no reaction.
Friedman interrupted the feeding until his patient had calmed down again. When the contents of the bottle had run their course Friedman leaned towards Starsky and said gently. "It doesn't have to be like this David." He withdrew the tube as gently as he could and handed it to the nurse.
"Give him a sedative and let him sleep." He beckoned to Hutch and then turned back to Starsky. "I'll be back to see you in a little while, David; try to rest for now."
Starsky remained as expressionless as before.

Hutch followed Friedman out of the room. "Doc; for a moment there…I thought…oh…I…uh…."
"So did I Hutch; I think for a second he let his barrier down. I guess you'd better call Dobey."
Hutch went over to the nurses station and was about to take the 'phone when the messenger looked up. "Captain Dobey left a message. He said that you are to report to his office immediately. Oh and Hutch, he said that if you took that long in the can you must either be sick or trying to avoid him!"

Hutch didn't really want to leave the clinic without checking up on Starsky one more time. He peered around the door and saw that his friend was asleep; he felt better about leaving him.

Watch out behind you man...the gooks are everywhere...wait up...I can't let them hurt that kid...Joe? Ricky? Hey guys, wher'd'ya go?
Why's it all black in here?
My legs...oh my God...momma...I want my mom...help me ...I can't see...
"His pulse rate is up again doctor."
"Give him another couple of CCs of diazepam to calm him."
"It's slowing to normal again."
No please...don't cut it off…please...no...no...

His screams brought the nurse running and she gave him another dose of sedative.

"How is he?" Dobey asked before Hutch had even the chance to sit down.
"I don't know Captain. He still doesn't say anything. He threw a tantrum with a puzzle – but just stared blankly all the time. He's refusing to eat again and I watched them tube feed him…" Hutch's voice broke off as he tried to control his emotions. "He tried to fight it off...why wouldn't he want to eat?"
Dobey didn't want to think about that one.
"Hutch, I have an order from Chief Pearson. You are to report at two this afternoon to go out with a new partner."
Hutch opened his mouth to protest but Dobey continued. "Pearson says that it's a direct order from him and if you have a complaint you have to go to him. I don't recommend that Hutch; the mood he's in he'll suspend you at the slightest excuse."
Hutch considered that for a moment. Suspended, even on half pay, he could at least spend time trying to help Starsky to come back.
"Don't even consider it Hutch! I need you on this case. Leave Starsky to the doctor for a while. Now I guess you want to know who your new…"
"Temporary!" Hutch interrupted vehemently.
"…your temporary partner is."
Hutch nodded glumly. The thought of having to work with anyone but Starsky filled him with a reluctance that bordered on fear. He could trust the "Me and Thee" thing with Starsk - but with anyone else…?
"It's Meredith." Dobey said.
"Meredith? You mean…oh boy, maybe it's a good thing Starsky isn't communicating right now!"
Dobey smiled and nodded. "I don't really know what went down between those two."
"I do; Captain. Believe me; this is going to be interesting."

The Pits was bustling as usual at mid-day. Huggy was transporting a tray laden with four plates piled high with burgers and fries. Angel was preparing sandwiches and Anita was managing to serve four different people at the same time. Hutch found a stool and waited for her to notice him. Huggy arrived behind the bar and came to Anita's rescue. When he had finished with the regular customers he turned to Hutch.
"What can I get you my man?"
"A beer, I guess and maybe a sandwich; I don't know."
Huggy looked at him carefully. "Still no change, huh?" Hutch shook his head wearily.
"No; and he isn't eating again. I watched them tube feed him, Hug; it was terrible…he tried to resist but then he just…." He took a long swallow of beer. The memory of Starsky with a tube in his nose and showing absolutely no reaction to what was happening to him haunted Hutch. "And now you won't believe what the Chief has done."
Huggy nodded. "He's ordered me to go out there with another cop; and guess which cop."
Huggy raised his eyebrows.
"Meredith! Can you believe that Hug? They've put me with Meredith. And after what she and Starsk had going! If he finds out he'll think I've done it deliberately"
Huggy grinned. "And you reckon she's gonna be over the moon about having to work with you after what you said to her?"
"Hey, all I said was she shouldn't have parked right outside Train's place…even a rookie should have known better!"

At one fifty-five precisely, Meredith was sitting in Dobey's office. At two fifteen Hutch came into the room. Good manners dictated that he shake hands with Meredith. He obeyed his upbringing. Meredith smiled and returned the compliment. Her handshake was firm and warm; Hutch pulled his hand away. He didn't say anything.

"Chief Pearson expects you two to work together without problems." Dobey said.
"I see no problem, Captain." Meredith shot a smile at Hutch as she answered. Hutch found he couldn't resist. "No problem for me either Captain."
"OK. The hold-ups are still happening; and I want you two to put an end to them."
Out of habit, Hutch stood up to go to his desk; Meredith followed and installed herself at Starsky's desk. Hutch glared at her.
"Come and sit here." He said pulling a chair next to him. She took her place.
"I don't want to replace him Hutch; just like I didn't want to replace you when I worked with Dave…how is he?"
"He's…he's…he's not Starsky. I don't know what's happening to him. It hurts to see him like that."
"Who else visits him?"
"The usual gang: Dobey and his wife, Huggy, and a few other friends. He doesn't seem to even notice we're there."
She didn't push the point.

After he had brought in Gunther, Hutch had gone back to more routine detective work. His last assignment had been dealing with a series of hold-ups. During the last one a cop had been shot. In the confusion the robbers had managed to escape and so far, six weeks later there were still no leads as to who they were.

And then Starsky had gone silent.

To add insult to injury they had pulled off two more capers since the shooting. One was across the County line in Ventura County and the other one was in the heart of the city's business area.
Hutch had to admit that he had been so preoccupied with Starsky's condition that he had not taken much notice of the two other incidents. Meredith, it seemed, had at least read the reports.
"What I don't understand is how they just appear and disappear like this." She said to Hutch. "I mean no-one seems to know who they are or where they come from; and they always manage to escape."
Hutch studied the file. He stared at the page in front of him; but all he could really see was a cop lying on the floor of a grocery store; and the image melted into Starsky on the ground by the Torino with three bullet wounds in his back. He tried to focus on the hold-up and make some sense of what Meredith had just said.
"I don't remember hearing a car."
"Excuse me?"
Hutch looked at her with distaste; Starsky would have understood.
"Hey; it's not my fault I can't read your mind!"
"I'm sorry but…"
"Yea, yea; Starsky wouldn't have asked – he'd just know – blah blah. Don't you think I had enough of that from him when you were out of it?"
"Sorry."
"Mmm. You were saying?"
"I don't remember hearing a car. I mean, if they had a getaway vehicle I don't remember hearing its motor running – or taking off.
"Are you saying that they left some other way?"
"Yes; the question is – how?"
"The last hold-up was in the business district – why don't we go and talk to the witnesses again. Perhaps somebody saw something so obvious that they didn't realize it was important."
Hutch was impressed (but he couldn't bring himself to show it). "OK come on; let's go talk to the people who were around at the time."

Friedman was sitting by the bed when Starsky woke up. His eyes opened but there was no other sign that he reacted to his surroundings. He sat up and pulled the bed tray towards him and started working on his puzzle.
He stared at each piece; turned it around in his fingers and looked at it as if seeing it for the first time. He tried a joint and when it didn't fit he eased the two pieces apart and tried another combination. He continued until he found a fit for the piece in his hand. If there was no fit he placed it carefully along one of the borders of the tray.
Friedman watched him for about fifteen minutes. The upper border of the puzzle was almost completed; Starsky fingered one more piece and a smile flickered across his lips as he fit it into the last gap. He started to select the pieces for the left side of the border.

"David?" Friedman said gently. "David? I know you can hear me."

Yeah I can hear you; but it doesn't mean I have to listen.

Starsky continued sorting the pieces that should fit into the left border. He didn't react.
"David. I want to help you. I want to help you without having to use any invasive treatments."

God helps those who help themselves…that's what bubba Starsky used to say…but I can't help me right now so why does this guy think he can?

Starsky glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and then pieced together a row of six cardboard shapes. He slid the assembled sequence along the tray and fitted them to the upper border.

"David. Please leave the puzzle for a few seconds and listen to me."

I'd leave it if I could…but I'm stuck inside it.

Starsky continued to sort another group of pieces. He stared at the tray and seemed to be concentrating. Once again he assembled another sequence and fitted it to the last one; the left border was almost completed.

Friedman touched his arm. The effect was not what he had expected. Starsky turned and looked at him; then he put his own hand on the doctor's and lifted it away from his arm.
"OK; you don't want me to touch you. I won't do it again."

Starsky completed the left border and started on the bottom of the puzzle. He rarely looked at the picture to guide him; he seemed to prefer to work it out for himself, without clues. Friedman thought of the model sloop. Hutch had told him that Starsky scorned kits; he bought a plan and the materials and made his models from scratch.

"David. Would you like to work on the sloop?"
Starsky stopped what he was doing. He held a puzzle piece in mid-air above the sequence where it would surely fit. He bit his lower lip and seemed to think for a second before continuing his puzzle. If I could get it together in my head – then I'd tell him. But right now I can't get it straight.

Friedman left the room. If he was going to get through to Starsky he needed to find something that would hook the younger man's interest. He was beginning to wonder what he could ever find to distract him from the jigsaw puzzle.
A week earlier he had tried to take away the puzzles; to stop Starsky from continuing his compulsive behavior. The result had been distressing for everyone. Starsky had ended up in a straightjacket and had been forcibly tube fed for three days. At least this time he had not really resisted the tube.

"Dr Friedman?" Friedman turned. A bearded man in his late forties was standing by the desk. Friedman went over to him. "Yes."
The other man held out his hand. "I'm Jonathan Stern; I've been away for a while and I've just found out that David is here."
"Yes, yes he's here; in fact he's been here for some time. Are you a friend of the family?"
"I'm his friend. I guess I'm his Rabbi."
Friedman took this in. "Come to my office Rabbi; I think we should talk."

"David first came to me a couple of years ago. He and Hutch had been protecting a ballet dancer from threats that purported to come from JOA; they discovered that the American Fascist Party was behind the threats and managed to stop any attacks on the dancer. David came to me because his real sympathies had been with JOA; he told me that he would rather have been outside the theater with a placard than inside watching Anna Akhanatovna, as he put it, prancing around on the stage. He felt a need to rekindle his spirituality a little."
Friedman made a note of this. "I noticed the Menorah."
"Ah yes; he's very proud of that; his grandmother gave it to him; apparently his great grandfather was a rabbi and that Menorah came from the shtetl synagogue."
Friedman jotted down a few more notes. Stern continued. "About a year ago, Starsky and Hutch found themselves up against the Fascist party again. This time they wanted revenge and they captured Starsky. They used a young actor who looked like Hutch to taunt Starsky. He was tortured and…and Hutch got there just in time to stop David from being gassed to death. He came to me again after that and joined the synagogue. He attends as many services as he can – and with his line of work that is not many – but he did observe Kippur with my family this year."
"Does he confide in you?"
"Yes, he's talked to me a great deal recently; about his fears and about his hopes; I think that he was going through a great deal of difficulty about his job and his relationships…and then…."
"And then he was shot."
"Yes. I heard about it when I returned from a sabbatical – I've been in Israel; I called his Captain who told me that he was in here."
"You didn't call his partner; why was that?"
"I don't know; I felt that perhaps it would be better to speak to Dobey; I can't put my finger on why. How is he?"
"He is totally withdrawn. He won't speak to anyone; doesn't make eye-contact – not even with Hutch; and he has refused to eat on more than one occasion. We had to tube feed him today."
Stern thought for a second. "May I see him?"
"Yes; perhaps you will be able to touch something that we haven't."

Friedman led Stern to Starsky's room.
Starsky didn't look up from his puzzle. The two men noticed that the picture was nearly completed. It was a seascape – expanses of shades of blue with very little to differentiate the scene.
Stern looked from the puzzle to Friedman. "Yes," came the reply, "he does them all the time and he hardly ever refers to the picture on the box."

Stern went over to the side of the bed.
"David? David I have been away; I am sorry to see you here. If there is anything I can do …." He stopped. Starsky had turned his deep blue blank stare towards him – but tears were welling up in his eyes. Stern sat on the edge of the bed and took Starsky's hand. "I'm here David; whenever you need me – I'm here." He felt Starsky's grip tighten for a second before the hand dropped away from his.
Starsky went back to completing the puzzle. Only a few of the pieces from the very center of the picture remained to be placed. Stern got up to leave. "No," said Friedman, "I think you should see what happens." The two men stood at the end of the bed and watched as Starsky fitted in the last pieces. He stared at the completed picture for a moment and then sighed before methodically breaking it up and replacing all the pieces in the box. He fitted the lid carefully and pushed the box away. Starsky leaned back on his pillows and closed his eyes.

"He does that each time. He won't do that puzzle again. It is as if he has completed a stage in is mind – but for the life of me I can't break through to him to understand what is troubling him and why."
They left the room.

He can't break through! I can't fuckin' break through so why does he think he can?

Meredith was talking to a young woman who kept a flower stand just across the street from the store where the last hold-up took place.
"Think back; I know you didn't see what happened, but think – did anything strike you as unusual that day?"
"I don't know. I mean I had a big delivery of flowers just then; they could have taken off in a helicopter, I wouldn't have heard a thing – not with the truck in front of my stand and the kids on the sidewalk with all their noise."
"Why do you say…what kids?"
"Hare Krishna or whatever they call it. You know; dressed in flowing clothes and chanting the same thing over and over. What was odd, now I come to think about it…yes…they had some kind of amplifier rigged up to a tape machine and that made it sound like there were more of them."
Meredith thanked her and looked for Hutch. She spotted him talking to the owner of the store next door to the one that had been robbed. The victim was a grocery store and the neighboring store sold greetings cards and the kind of gimmicks and gadgets that would probably have kept Starsky happy for hours…back when Starsky was behaving normally. As Meredith came over Hutch was leaving.
"Anything?"
"No, the owner isn't in today and he was here the day of the robbery. I have his address; let's go."

Meredith was driving and Hutch wondered whether a canary yellow car was preferable to a candy-apple red one. They made their way from the Downtown district to the San Fernando Valley suburb where the owner lived in a comfortable ranch-style house in a leafy street.

Tom Bishop was in his workshop; his wife led Hutch and Meredith around the back of the house and called her husband. "Tom? It's the police." Bishop didn't look up from what he was doing. "I guess it's about the hold-up; come on in."
Hutch and Meredith entered the workshop and Tom Bishop switched off the small drill that was whining in his hand. "My hobby; I sell them in the store. Each one is unique."
Hutch looked at the workbench to see that the drill was a jig saw; Bishop was cutting a puzzle; a photo of a St Bernard dog was glued onto a sheet of thick plywood. Hutch had an idea. "If I brought you a photo, could you make a puzzle for me?"
"Sure. But that's not why you're here, is it?" Bishop smiled. "Can I offer you two a beer – or lemonade; I have an icebox out here." Hutch settle for the beer, Meredith gave him an old-fashioned look and asked for lemonade.

Bishop had not heard anything until the three robbers ran out of the store next door. No, he hadn't seen a car or van in the vicinity. No, he didn't see them get away.
"The minute they came out of the store those Hare Krishna kids went by…"
Meredith put down her glass. "Were they chanting?" Bishop looked at her as if she had asked the proverbial stupid question. "Yes; I thought it was kinda weird that they had an amp with them though….I mean usually it's little bells and stuff – these kids and a recording of an electric guitar – no wait; it might have been that Beatle guy's record."
"Enough noise to distract attention…and enough of them for the hold-up men to melt in with their crowd." Meredith said quietly.
Hutch looked at her with approval. "Nice thinking. Let's go check out the other scenes." He put down the half-finished beer. "Mr. Bishop I'd like to bring you a photo and ask you to make a puzzle for a friend of mine."
"With pleasure; drop by the store and if I'm not there, come here."

Hutch and Meredith went back to the car.
"It's a nice idea. What photo will you take?"
Hutch didn't answer; instead he picked up the radio mike and contacted Metro.
"This is Zebra…this is Hutch, Mildred. I need a patch through to the Ventura County Sheriff's office."
The Sheriff came on the line and Hutch arranged to meet him at the liquor store that had been held-up a couple of days earlier. It didn't take long to discover that the Hare Krishna group had been outside at the time. Meredith was almost triumphant. "That's it; they slipped away with the crowd."
Hutch snapped at her. "So what are you going to do, put out an APB on all the kids in flowing robes chanting Peace and Love or whatever? There are hundreds of them out there…Hare Krishna; Peace and Love; the Maharishi – you name it! Most of them genuinely believe in all that stuff; some of them are just looking for another joint."

Meredith started the car. "So what would Supercop do if he wasn't playing with the pieces of his mind?"
Hutch reached over and pulled the key out of the ignition. "That's enough!" he said angrily. "I thought you had a thing going with Starsky. Now it sounds like you don't care about what's happened to him. Well I do care; he's my partner and he's my best friend and if you can't stop yourself from making snide remarks about him shut up. I don't care what Pearson says; I 'm working on my own." He handed her back the keys and got out of the car.
"Hutch; how are you going to get home?"
He ignored her – there was a bus-stop along the way and he could see from here that the line went along the coast road to Venice. He set off to catch his bus.
He didn't go out again that day.

Merle looked up as Hutch drove his disreputable excuse for a car into the yard.
"Man why do you want to mess up my place with that heap of junk."
Hutch grinned. "Pleased to see you too; Merle."
"How's Starsky?"
"That's why I'm here. He's still locked away in his own little world. I need your help."
Hutch explained what he wanted and Merle led him into the office. As Merle was leafing through a pile of big glossy photos showing off his handiwork Hutch spotted something else. "Merle, is that some kind of a plan of a car?"
Merle looked at him like he was some kind of simple child. "Yes Hutch; it is 'some kind of a plan'; it's the technical drawing; shows all the parts and how they fit together. Now that is a real jigsaw puzzle."
Hutch thought for a moment. "Would you have one of the Torino?"
"No I don't; but I can try and get you one…why?"
"We'll see; I'll let you know. Right now I'm more interested in the photo."
Merle pulled a big eight by twelve glossy out of the pile. The Torino gleamed in the sunshine; its new paint-job had only just dried and the white stripe was clearly defined against the red paint.
"That's perfect Merle – I hope it isn't the only copy."
"I have another; why?"
"Because, this one is going to be cut up into a two hundred 'n fifty pieces." Hutch ducked as Merle threw a service handbook at him.
"All in a good cause, Merle; I met a guy who makes custom jigsaw puzzles and I figured Starsky would enjoy doing this one."
"I got plenty more where that came from; when he finished that I'll find him one of the T-Bird he had before he went to 'Nam." Merle said.
"He had a T-Bird?"
"1962 model, a real beauty; his cousin wrecked it while he was in 'Nam…good thing for him that Starsk came back a little more mellow than when he left!"
Hutch preferred not to think about the pre-'Nam Starsky too hard.

Hutch ignored the radio as long as he could.
First Meredith came on; "Hutch are you listening? I have a lead; I'm going to see some guy over at Malibu – I'll let you know what happens."
Then it was Dobey. "Hutchinson where in the hell are you? I want you in my office now!" He repeated the message again five minutes later. Hutch sighed and switched off the radio.
He drove into the residential area of Tarzana and found Bishop's house. Molly Bishop waved from the window and pointed to the workshop; Hutch went straight to the back of the house. Ted Bishop was putting the finishing touches to the puzzle he had been cutting the last time. He was sanding the edges to make sure of a perfect fit.
"Mr. Bishop? I wondered if…"
"Call me Ted. You want a custom job? OK show me the lovely lady."
Hutch smiled and shook his head; "she's not exactly a beauty queen; but my partner loves her." He held out the photo of the Torino. Bishop whistled. "Some paint job; this is your partner's car? I thought you guys were detectives." Hutch laughed; "it's a long explanation; maybe when Starsky finally snaps out of it he'll explain."
Bishop explained what he was going to do. "First I glue the picture to the wood and varnish it to protect the paper. I cut from the back – the wood side; the saw creates its own pattern at random. I sand the edges – like I'm doing now – and the thing should be a perfect fit. I'll have this ready in about two days."

Hutch nodded. "I guess I'd better go back to work now before my Captain fires me." He started to walk out of the workshop when Bishop called him back. "Hey I thought of something. Those kids…I think they had a camper parked around the corner; one of those VW campers that the hippies favor."
"What color?"
"It was covered in flowers that I guess they painted on it themselves."
"You didn't happen to notice the license number?"
"No, sorry…but …I'm pretty sure it was out of state. Oregon maybe; or Oklahoma; I'm pretty sure I saw an 'O'."
Hutch ran to the car and switched on the radio.
"Zebra Three to control. I need to contact Meredith."
"This is control, Zebra Three. Detective Meredith has not been in contact since…"
Hutch slammed his fist against the wheel and swore.
"Hutch!" It was Dobey.
"Yes Captain?" Hutch said, trying to sound as innocent as possible.
"Get back in here; we have an emergency. Meredith has disappeared."

Starsky was in Friedman's office. He was sitting upright and foursquare on his chair and seemed to be staring at a point on the wall to the left of Friedman's face. The modeling equipment was on the table.
"David, I though you'd like a change from your puzzles. Hutch suggested we bring this from your apartment."
Starsky turned his gaze to the table. He studied the sheet of balsa wood; the pencil and the knife for a few seconds. He reached out. Friedman held his breath.
Starsky picked up the pencil and started to draw the shape of the boat's keel onto the wood. He worked freehand and used one firm movement. The shape was perfectly symmetric. He picked up the knife and released the safety device. With one steady, confident stroke he cut out one side of the keel. He repeated the sequence and held the two pieces in his hands, staring at them. He looked at the table.
"Oh I'm sorry, David. I forgot the glue."
Starsky looked at him steadily. For a second Friedman was sure he saw an expression of derision in Starsky's eye.

Glue! He doesn't know anything! Unless he thinks he can stick me back together again.

Starsky took the knife and started to carefully cut notches in one piece of the keel; he took the second piece and did the same. He slid the two pieces together and Friedman realized that they were joined by a perfect dovetailing system. Starsky cut another piece that fitted into the keel to form the deck. It held by pressure against the tension created in the bent wood of the keel. He looked at the table. "He's looking for the rest of the model." Friedman said to himself.
"David, I'm impressed. I could never make a model – not even with a kit and both my brothers helping me. I'm sure you want to finish this one. If you would like to tell me what you need I'll have it brought in for our next meeting."
Starsky looked at the sloop in creation and sighed. Friedman waited in silence; he didn't want to force Starsky to speak. The silence seemed to last for minutes – but the ticking of the clock on the wall told the seconds. Starsky picked up a pencil and the legal pad that Friedman had left on his desk.

Nice try – but I'm not ready!
"Thread; scissors, sailcloth and a length of one eighth inch rod." He wrote.
"I'm sorry David; I don't understand the last bit of that…"
Starsky looked at him wearily. "I need thread and scissors and sail cloth. I also need the rod to make the mast – one-eighth inch diameter rod…please." He wrote again.
"Where should I go to buy it?"
Starsky scribbled again: "It's in my apartment."
"I think that's enough for now…unless you want to…" Starsky was already standing up to leave. Friedman let him go without further comment. He leaned back in his chair and sighed with relief.

Starsky went back to his room. He climbed into bed and turned his head to the pillow and surrendered to sleep.

It was the same old nightmare; with a twist. A big nasty twist in the tail; that hit him four-square in his mind's eye and knocked his brain out of gear.
Back in the alley; hiding behind a trash can. The alley leads to a jungle and the jungle leads to another alley.
The trash can becomes bamboo and mud.
Only the sounds remain the same.
Gun fire.
A single shot; or a burst from a machine gun.
No matter how hard he tries to run – he can't. He's frozen in place. Petrified – literally, stuck in place like stone. Fear stops him from crying out. Instinct tells him not to cry out. He can't stop it happening. His dad…Hutch…Joey and Mike and Ricky and Pete; the people in the village…he can't stop the bullets. He can't stop them from dying- not this time. This time he has frozen in place and fear won't even make him tremble.

"Starsky!" He watched the man turn to see who had called him. He watched from behind the trash can…silent…terrified…helpless. A single shot and he saw his father fall to the ground.

Inside his head he could hear his voice cry out.
Inside his head he heard the voice change octave in mid scream.
Inside his head; outside his head there was no sound.
Only the sound of footsteps running down the alley; and his mother's scream when she saw what had happened.

Inside his head he could hear his voice; strong and confident.
"Joey, Mike, Ricky, Pete…" they didn't hear him.
They didn't hear his warning and they ran straight into it.
Straight into what he would learn to call "an accident".
Straight into what he knew was "friendly fire".
But it wasn't friendly…not this time…it came from "friends" who didn't want the others to see what they were doing.
Inside his head…and outside his head he heard himself shout and saw the children run to the safety of a ditch.

How many times had he seen it and heard it?
How many times had he shouted a warning just in time?
He'd always been there for Hutch…he hadn't let him down.
He hadn't always been able to stop the bullet making contact with that strong body…but he'd been there; doing his job…alert and ready to cover his buddy.

And Hutch?
He'd been there enough times.
He'd held him as poison ran through his veins.
He'd hauled him out of a gas chamber and he'd nursed his wounds enough times. But this time…this time he hadn't been quick enough.
He hadn't been quick at all. Hutch hadn't really been there…and Starsky knew that there was no excuse.
He'd seen Hutch; he'd seen him…
Only this time…this time it wasn't a nightmare.
He was wide awake and he saw.

This time it was once too often; one bullet too many had burned its way into his body; ripping his flesh.
Once too often; trusted and been let down…but he had never expected it to happen this way.
He'd trusted women who had betrayed him.
He'd trusted his fellow grunts in the jungle…and seen them turn against him.
He trusted Hutch…with his life…
But Hutch had betrayed him with Kira…
He couldn't handle it any more.
I don't want to go back!
I feel safe here in the silence!
I feel safer here inside my head!
The lines of communication are broken
He sobbed into the pillow until he heard the door open and felt the sweet relief of the needle.

Hutch was having his own problems. Dobey held him responsible for what had happened to Meredith. And to tell the truth, Hutch knew that he had a point – but he was in no mood to admit it. He had enough on his mind to feel bad about.

After she'd watched Hutch walk to the bus stop; Meredith had decided to take things into her own hands. She'd gone back to see the Ventura County Sheriff and checked with him where the local communes hung out. That was two days ago. The last thing anyone had heard from Meredith was when she dropped by Hutch's place dressed in frayed jeans, a short cropped tie-dyed top and bare feet. She'd painted a flower round her navel and another on her cheek. She was wearing a bandeau around her hair and had flowers and beads around her neck. She smelled of patchouli – at least Hutch hoped that's what it was.
"How do I look?"
"I don't know – I mean what am I supposed to say? You look like a hippie."
"That's all I needed to know. I have a favor to ask you."
Hutch looked at her sourly.
"Aren't you going to ask me in?"
Hutch made a bowing gesture and stepped to one side. Meredith settled herself on the sofa and smiled up at Hutch. "Any chance of a beer?" she asked.
Hutch sighed and went to the fridge to find a can of beer; he handed it to her and stood sipping from his own can.
"You wanted to ask me a favor?"
Meredith drank some of her beer. "Yes…I need some wheels."
"What's wrong with your car?"
"Nothing; only….well it's kind of smart for a hippie; if you see what I mean."
Hutch had a feeling he knew what was coming. He nodded.
"Well I figured that we could maybe swap cars for a while. You can drive my car and…" She saw the expression on his face. "Oh, maybe you'd rather drive the Torino." Hutch swallowed his beer and shook his head.
Meredith grinned at him. "No; I can understand that. Starsky's pretty possessive about that car of his isn't he?"
"That's not the point. I'm not sure…I guess…I mean…"
"Well to get to the point; I need a car that fits the image and yours is just fine. I mean it looks more the part than mine does."

Hutch thought about it for a second; he went over to the bed and picked up his jacket. He fished in the pockets and found his key-chain. He removed the car key and went back to Meredith. He handed her the key in silence. She gave him the key to her car. "Don't beat it up too much; Hutch; I kind of like the paint and all." Before he could say anything she was gone…with his car.

He closed the door and went back to his beer and his plants. He hadn't bothered to ask her where she was going…and he realized that he didn't care. He was still too preoccupied with Starsky's silence. He made a mental note to go over to Starsky's place and tend his plants too. He picked a couple of dead leaves off the plant and watered it. He was hungry and a quick check of the fridge showed that he had nothing much to eat in the house. He decided to go and eat at The Pits and see if Huggy had heard anything of interest about the hold-ups. He pulled on his jacket and went out into the street. The canary yellow car was parked just in front of the spot where he usually parked; he noted yet another oil spot on the road where his car had been and swore.

"Hutch, how're you doing?" Huggy was as cheerful as ever.
"OK I guess Hug."
"How's Curly?"
"Bad. Friedman says that there are moments when he thinks he is breaking through and then the barriers go up again. I went to see him yesterday and he turned away when I went in the room and refused to even look at me."
Huggy could see how much Hutch was hurting about Starsky. They turned to one another so often that this rejection was like torture to him.
"The worse thing is…I…I feel like it's something I've done. Like maybe I did something that upset him and tipped him over the edge."
Huggy looked at Hutch carefully. "And did you?"
Hutch said nothing. He was thinking and he knew what the answer was.
"I need something to eat, Hug; what does the house recommend?"
"A Huggy Bear Special!"
Hutch looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "If that means cold burger in a stale bun; forget it!"
Huggy rolled his eyes. "It means a fresh bun with a quarter pound burger; tomato, pickle and coleslaw on the side."
"Hold the pickle."

Huggy sat opposite Hutch while he ate what he had to admit was a great burger.
"What about the most beautiful cop in the Force?"
Hutch looked up at him. "Huh?"
"Meredith; the woman I plan to marry one of these days – if I can ever persuade her to find normal employment."
"She took my car."
"The lady has flipped!" Huggy grinned. "What she do a crazy thing like that for?"
"She turned up at my place dressed like a refugee from San Francisco in 1969 and took my car. She left me hers in exchange."
Huggy stood up and went over to the bar. He served a couple of customers and came back with a cigarette hanging from his lower lip. He looked at Hutch: "And?"
"And I don't know where she went. I mean she probably has some crazy idea that she's going to solve this on her own. And you know what Huggy? I don't care if she does…just as long as she doesn't cause me any trouble!"

Meredith took a while to get used to Hutch's car. The transmission lived a life of its own and going up a slight hill she found it necessary to slip it down before the engine realized that it couldn't handle the strain. The brakes were fine – but if it had shock absorbers they didn't work too well. At least the steering was OK – so far.
She radioed in to inform Dobey that she was following up a lead in Ventura County and that she'd be in touch through the Sheriff's Office. That was her last call.

She drove across the county line and pulled over. She disconnected the mike from the radio and stashed it in the glove compartment. There was a 'phone booth about two hundred yards further along and she stopped to make a call. She followed the instructions carefully; driving up North Ventura until she came to the junction that led her to Devils Canyon. The camper was waiting on a bend in the road – just like her contact had said.
As she approached the camper moved away from the side of the road and she followed it. They continued up the winding road for another mile or so before the camper turned off and started up a dusty bumpy track. Meredith couldn't help wishing she had her own car – at least it had good suspension – she wasn't too sure that this thing of Hutch's had any suspension.
The camper pulled up in front of a rambling wood-built house that looked like it had been designed by a committee on a trip – and built by another one. Bells hung from the trees, a young man was playing a bongo drum in front of a fountain. He was wearing a saffron colored loincloth and his hair looked like he hadn't washed it or tried to comb it for at least a month.
Her guide climbed out of the camper and came towards her with an outstretched hand. If she didn't know better she'd say he was Hutch's brother. The guy was a little skinnier but the same tall lean frame; blonde hair that flopped over his ears (this guy's was at least six inches longer. He had a moustache like the one Hutch had grown recently. He was wearing a poncho that looked like it might double as a dog blanket and velvet pants that flared wide from the knees down to touch the ground and covered his silver platform-soled boots. When he reached out his arm she saw that his torso was bare under the poncho. The thought of his body was kind of exciting. She tried to keep a cool cop's head on her shoulders.
"Peace. My name is Jason; but most people call me Jay."
She shook his hand and felt his finger linger in her palm. "Most people call me Merry." She smiled at him as she spoke.
"Welcome Merry; come on in and I'll show you where you can stash your stuff."
She grabbed a big army surplus back pack from the back of the car and hitched it onto her shoulder; then she followed him into the house.
The main room was lit with candles even though there was bright sunshine outside. All the windows were draped with semi-transparent red cloth; the atmosphere was warm and relaxed. Meredith sniffed carefully and detected the heady fumes that contributed to this ambiance. She followed Jason up the stairs and across a hall way. As he went he gestured to the doors that they passed. "That's the john; the bathroom; the men's dorm and this…" they went up another flight of steps and he knocked on a door at the end of the hallway, "is the where the ladies hang out."
Someone called out "come on in" and she followed Jason into a big room under the eaves of the house. The room had been partitioned with tie-dyed lengths of cloth to create individual cubicles. A young woman sat cross-legged on a cot, she was braiding her long still-wet blond hair and she was naked from the waist up. Jason didn't seem to notice and the woman didn't seem to care. She looked up at Meredith and smiled.
"Peace." She said dreamily and went on braiding.
Meredith saw that one of the cubicles was obviously unused so she dumped her pack on the cot and turned to Jason. "How about a guided tour of the rest of the commune?"
He smiled and beckoned to her to follow.
They visited the other communal rooms on the first floor; a big dining table dominated one of the rooms. It had benches like something out of a monastery; Meredith noticed that it was beautifully waxed and clean. The grain of the wood was beautiful; she stopped to admire it.
"Happy made the table. He's our woodworker. Sherri likes to keep it looking good; she's our beekeeper." Meredith took in the sweet smell of beeswax.
They went into the kitchen. It was a sunny room that opened onto a deck. The windows had transparent stickers on them and the rainbows and flowers sent the sunlight into the room as if it was reflected through a prism. There were pale yellow muslin curtains to add to the glow. In the center of the kitchen three women and two children were working at a scrubbed pine table. The kids were shelling peas and shucking corn; one of the women was mixing something in a bowl; another was chopping onions and garlic; the third was cleaning a chicken. Meredith started. The woman was sitting holding the chicken between her legs and expertly stripping away the feathers. Jason saw Meredith's reaction. "We eat a whole-food diet here; but we are not all vegetarians. We are as self-sufficient as we can be – we keep our chickens for eggs and we breed some for the pot. Moon-song is our chief cook." He smiled at the woman chopping onions.
"Hi," she said, "Peace."
Meredith smiled and muttered "Peace" before following Jason out into the yard.
Some of the men were working the truck garden. Meredith could see that there was enough to feed the commune and to sell or trade for those things that they did not produce. Jason must have read her mind. "We take our stuff to the Farmer's Market once a week; plus we supply a local store with our eggs and extra goat cheese." Meredith noted the goats roaming in a field a little further along. We buy stuff like rice and pulses and sugar and flour with what we make…and we allow for little extras to brighten up our days – if you see what I mean." She watched a man stop to roll a "cigarette" and figured that she knew exactly what he meant.
"Do you really make enough to buy all you need from the stuff you produce?"
Jason looked at her carefully. "Of course not. Many of us use our skills to provide services or to make things to sell. We have a pottery studio; Carla teaches music; Ben teaches yoga and Happy repairs things as well as makes things on special orders. He has a good reputation for his furniture and people pay well for good work."
He stopped. A second camper had just pulled up behind the barn and Jason seemed anxious to draw Meredith's attention from it. He moved to block her line of vision. "Why don't you come and meet the others and drink the tea of togetherness?" He led her back to the lawn in front of the house. As she turned Meredith caught a glimpse of a young woman in a Hare-Krishna outfit slipping into the barn. She said nothing.

Friedman had been impressed when Starsky had started to work on the sloop; especially because Starsky had at least communicated with him – if only in writing. He decided to allow Starsky to work on the sloop on condition that he did so in the one of the communal rooms so that he could be discreetly supervised. Starsky still said nothing and the next morning he installed himself at a table in a corner of one of the rooms. A male-nurse had been assigned to keep an eye on Starsky as he worked. "I want you to observe him; see if he shows any sign of communicating," Friedman told Bob, "and you'd better stay close enough to make sure that nothing happens with the knife. I don't know if I'm taking a risk here or not."

We went on the Sloop John B. My grandfather and me…I never went on a boat with him but he taught me to love the silence.
It would be nice to just sail out to sea and drift and drift until I disappear over the horizon…disappear and never have to come back. No that's running away isn't it, and dad taught me not to do that.

Starsky sat quietly; he had finished the keel and the deck and was now cutting the cloth to make the sails. He worked without any kind of pattern and Bob was fascinated to see that everything seemed to fit perfectly. Now Starsky was whittling at the piece of wood that would be the mast. He worked carefully; painstakingly, obsessively paring the wood to fit tight enough into a small hole in the deck not to need to be fixed with glue.
Suddenly Starsky stopped working. He stood up and walked over to the door; Bob watched him as he went into the men's room.

In the shadows – behind the door – they got me from behind. I was pissing and they got me from behind. They took me to the darkness – but it wasn't the right darkness and I didn't want to go there. Watch the mirrors. Watch out behind you; always watch your back…the law of the jungle – watch your back.

When Starsky returned he seemed less calm. Bob couldn't put his finger on why he thought so, and he would later tell Friedman that he just had a sense that something was going to happen
Starsky sat down at the table and picked up the knife. He stared at it for a while. Bob was talking to one of the other patients when he turned and saw in horror that slowly and carefully Starsky was drawing the knife across the flesh of his inner arm. He didn't cut deep; he was scoring his skin in a criss-cross pattern. He seemed to be concentrating on what he was doing. Bob reached the table just as Starsky started on another cut. Bob knew that if he grabbed the knife he could provoke a more violent reaction. Gently he put his own hand around Starsky's left wrist. Starsky didn't resist. His fingers relaxed and the knife dropped onto the table. He turned his blank staring blue eyes on Bob and his face was an expressionless mask. Bob guided him to his feet and back to his room. Starsky lay quietly on the bed while Bob bathed and disinfected the cuts. He didn't move while the nurse bandaged his arm. Friedman arrived just as Bob was putting on the bandage.
"What happened?" He asked without anger.
"I was answering Freddie and I turned round and saw that he'd started scarifying his arm."
"Did he show any distress before he did it?"
"No, he went to the john and then started doing this when he came back."
Friedman sat on the edge of the bed. "Why do you want to hurt yourself, David?"
Starsky closed his eyes.

Because it takes my mind off the other pain.

Meredith was assigned to help in the kitchen. She went to see Moon-song to find out what she should do.
"You can go down to the herb garden and pick me some sorrel."
Meredith took the basket that Moon-song held out to her and went out into the yard. The herb garden was to the left of the deck. The green sorrel leaves seemed succulent as Meredith picked them; she wondered what Moon-song was going to use them for. While she was gathering a basketful of leaves one of the children came skipping out to her. She was an elfin child of about six; her long auburn hair hung in wisps around her face and she had big almost green eyes. Like the other children she wore dungarees and nothing else – her feet were bare and filthy.
"Merry; mom says to pick her some parsley and thyme and rosemary."
Meredith resisted the temptation to ask if she wanted sage too…the song was already echoing around her head. "Remember me to the one who lives there; she was once a true love of mine."
"OK; why don't you help me?" The little girl grinned and started to pick a bouquet of parsley leaves.
"What's your name?" Meredith asked.
"Venus…my brother is Mars…mom likes to watch the stars at night and she chose our names for her favorites."
"How old are you?" Venus stopped picking and thought for a second. "I'm six and three quarters and one week and two days." She replied with the precision that small children revel in. "And Mars?" Venus had to think a little harder; finally she said "Nine."
Meredith looked around and noticed that there were other children playing on a homemade swing. "What about the others? Are they all brothers and sisters?"
"No, silly. That's Jack and Sara and Tommy and Angel. Their moms and dads all live here too."
"What about school?"
"They don't need to go to school to learn to be good members of society." A man's voice said behind her. She turned and found herself face to face with a black man with a wild 'Afro' hairstyle. He was staring at her. "They learn to read and write and count and all that is important here. We have many people here with good college degrees who can teach them all they need to know to make their way in the world without being brainwashed by the capitalist culture out there.
"That's great; but suppose they want to go to college too?"
"Ask Jay about that; his son is in pre-law at USC. He did all his studying in places like this!"
Meredith accepted the point. The man looked her up and down.
"I've seen you around," he said "don't tell me; it'll come back to me sometime."
He walked away leaving Meredith with an uncomfortable feeling that her cover might not be as good as she thought it was. She finished gathering the sorrel and followed Venus, who was clutching a huge bundle of the herbs her mother had asked for.

Later that evening all the members of the commune were sitting around the big table on the deck. They had eaten a rich chicken stew and now they were sipping herb tea and smoking joints or plain tobacco according to their tastes and moods. Jay was drawing on a pipe. Someone pulled out a guitar from behind a chair and the afternoon drummer took up his bongos. They started to jam and sing. Meredith was impressed by the natural harmonies that many of the women were singing alongside the men's stronger voices. "…we are one person…we are two together…we a three for each other…."
The man from the garden sat down beside her and whispered in her ear. "I still haven't figured it out…maybe we could get to know each other better." She turned and smiled into his eyes and found herself drawn to him irresistibly. Later he took her by the hand and led her down to a soft bank beside the creek. They spent the night there.

Meredith was missing. She had called in a couple of days earlier to say that she was following up a lead. They understood that she had infiltrated a commune and that the only chance she had to make contact was if she was in town with the others getting supplies. She called from a payphone and at the time no-one thought it necessary to identify its location.
Hutch was in Pearson's office.
"I ordered you to work with Meredith, Hutchinson. Why did you allow her to go off on her own?"
Hutch looked at him with distaste. Most of the cops in the city knew that Pearson was a desk cop who had hardly ever been out on the streets. He had political contacts and had climbed up to the position from where it had been an easy step into a dead man's shoes. Hutch was not alone on the force in hoping that the Governor would be re-elected thus stopping Pearson from getting what he really wanted – a permanent appointment in the job. It was a well-know fact that his support was in the Republican Party and as long as the present Democrat governor held his place Pearson would not be confirmed in the job.

"I am not responsible for Meredith's movements, Chief. I mean…"
"You are her partner; and what is more Hutchinson you hold a higher rank than she does; I do not see why you think that you are not responsible."
Hutch resisted the temptation to explain about women's equality to this urban red-neck.
"What I meant, sir, is that Meredith went off alone when we were not on duty. I couldn't know what she was doing."
"She took your car."
"I thought she was going to play a joke on some friends." He knew it was weak but he hoped that it fooled Pearson. He was wrong.
"She had already informed the Ventura County Sheriff what she was doing; and she had cleared it with Dobey…and you are trying to tell me that you thought she was going to a fancy-dress parade!"
Hutch shook his head. "I figured that she didn't want or need me in the way. I was worrying about something else."
"You were worrying about your partner. From what I've read in the IA report – you are going to have more trouble whether he snaps out of it or not."
Hutch looked at him. "What do you mean, sir?"
"I think you know."

Hutch stood up. "If you'll excuse me, sir, I guess I'd better go find Meredith."
"I guess you had. Dismissed. Oh and Hutchinson?"
"Yes?"
"We will discuss the matter of Ms Phelps later."

Christine Phelps. He couldn't help himself. When she'd first come into his life she had rubbed him all up the wrong way. Her snide remarks about Starsky and Hutch seeing themselves as heroes; her bitching coverage of them trying to do their job while all the time handicapped by having to behave themselves to please the Chief. Starsky had really taken against her but Hutch had been seduced by her apologies. He'd invited her to dinner (making sure that Starsky didn't overhear) and one thing had led to another.
When he found out the identity of the new lady in Hutch's bed Starsky was coolly polite with her – or just plain ignored her presence.
It lasted about a month. Christine came by every evening when Hutch wasn't working – or he went round to her place.
She was making her way through the jungle of journalism; her series of articles about the guys had caught the attention of a local station and now she had graduated to presenting her own show; "The Hidden City".
Starsky had grudgingly accepted that she was "OK, I guess"; but he tried to avoid joint dates.

Hutch had played his part in Christine's rise to fame. He called her when they were about to go out and she was there with her crew at the right time in the right place ready to bring another exciting scoop to the daytime soap audience. Hutch made sure that she never got in the way….and that she was never in danger.
She moved in to his apartment and Starsky started calling her "Mrs. H'.

Hutch hadn't expected Christine to turn up at the stake-out. They hadn't seen each other in over six months – and the breaking up had not been easy. He had no idea that she had taken to monitoring the police bands and that when she heard that Starsky and Hutch were on a case she tried to be there.

So there she was; the proverbial bad penny, right in the middle of a stakeout. He'd automatically gone over to her.
She was still as lovely as ever as far as Hutch was concerned. He was still holding a candle and blinded enough by the flame not to see that he was going to burn his fingers.

"Christine?"
"Hi Hutch." She looked him straight in the eye; that same disarming wide eyed look she'd given him when he had first met her. Hutch couldn't resist.
"How did you get here?"
"Hey I am an investigative journalist, remember? I know how to get the right leads."
"If it was Huggy I'll…."
"No you won't; and any way it wasn't Huggy. How is he by the way?"
"Fine. You know Huggy."
She smiled and twiddled with a button on the microphone in her hand. A technician called out to her and she spoke rapidly so that he could check his levels.
"Christine? I uh…I…when we've finished here…if you want to …."
"Take up where we left off? Oh Hutch I didn't want to stop. Does this mean you've stopped sowing your wild oats?"

The phrase took him off guard. They'd split up because he'd seen her in a bar with another guy; they were kissing. The fact that he was there to meet one of his regular air-hostesses didn't seem to matter to him. Christine had betrayed him in his eyes.
The next day they'd argued about it. She took the same line as Kira – why was it OK for a guy to sleep around but not for a woman? Both said things they might not have really meant; and she had packed her bag and was gone by the time he got home that evening.

"I could ask you the same." He grinned and held her arm. He repeated the invitation and she accepted.
The camera was ready and Christine stepped away from Hutch to tell her audience what was happening. Although she knew that some of the people watching wouldn't know where the soap ended and her show began, she tried to inject as much tension into the situation as she could.
"Hey Christine…" It was the cameraman. "Jess wants to know who the handsome guy is and can't you ask him a question or two…"
Jess was her producer; he was back at the studio scanning the monitors and he'd seen Hutch. The cameraman came over to Christine and handed her the headphones. She held one to her ear and mugged the camera. "Jess? His name is Ken Hutchinson and he's one of the…yes that's right…no Starsky's the one that was shot…I don't know." She turned to Hutch; "Where's Starsky?"
"He's still recovering from his injuries."
Hutch was about to turn away. "No Ken; wait." He had no trouble in staying where he was.
"My producer wants me to record an interview with you. You explain what's going on and then when it's all over you can tell us how you guys did it."
Hutch shook his head. "I don't now…I mean I should already be over there in position."
Christine looked around – there were cops everywhere. "Hey come on…the others can handle it."
He sighed.

"Sergeant Hutchinson; please explain the situation."
"Well Ms…uh…Ph…Phelps…Christine. This is the third armed hold-up in a small store in this sector of the city in the last month. We have a couple of men already in position around the back of the store and when they are ready they'll go in and try to neutralize the situation."
"Neutralize?"
"Yes…uh…uh…if possible arrest the robbers without anybody getting hurt."
Christine smiled to the camera. "I have first hand experience of how Ken and his partner do their best to avoid a shootout in these situations." She turned back to Hutch. "And your role is to…."
She didn't get to finish her question. They all heard the gunfire. Then they heard the shout.

"Officer down…"
Hutch started to run to the store and Christine and the camera man followed.
Hutch put his hand up to block the camera from showing the young cop lying on the floor in a pool of blood.

Meredith woke up chilly and stared up at the night sky. Her company was gone and she stretched before hauling herself stiffly to her feet. She still didn't know his name.

She started to walk up to the main house but a light at the barn window caught her attention and she made her way over. She stood to the side of the window and looked in. Three men sat at a table made from an old door and a couple of barrels; at first she thought they were playing poker. She looked again; there were no cards on the table only cash; a lot of cash; enough cash to have come from a liquor store hold-up.
One of the men stood up and she recognized her erstwhile lover.
She drew back and held her breath.

He hit her from behind. A quick blow to the back of the head with the lump of wood that he'd picked up as he passed Happy's workshop. She fell forward and he waited a second to make sure that she was out cold. He heaved her up and pulled her over his shoulders. "Funny" he thought as he lugged her to the barn, "it looks easy in the movies." He kicked the door open and carried her into the barn.

The "card players" looked up.
"Hey man; if you want to have a little fun take the lady someplace else." The speaker was a guy in his early thirties. He was thick-set and his muscles showed through the sleeves of his tie-dyed T shirt. He drew on his pipe and passed it to the young man sitting next to him. Pete dumped Meredith on the ground and sat down again.
"She was watching us through this window."
"Still got the hots for you huh?"
"I'd love to think so; but I know I've seen her someplace before." The younger man stood up and walked over to Meredith. He turned her over and looked at her. "You ever get busted?"
"What's that got to do with it?
"Lady's a pig!"
"Oh man…you mean I laid a cop?"
"Yea. You know when I went back to see if the cops were talking to anyone? I saw her talking to the flower lady…"
The heavy-set man took another toke from his pipe. He looked at Meredith. "You deal with her Pete. Maybe you and Benny want to have a little fun first?"
Benny didn't need an invitation. He pulled at Meredith's pants and started to open his zipper.

It was a freak thing that anybody ever found Meredith's body.
A couple of kids playing way off limits noticed some smoke rising from behind a rise in the canyon. They ran down to a nearby phone booth and called the fire service. Later, when a fire truck took them home they tried unsuccessfully to convince their angry parents that they'd followed the truck to see what was happening.
The fire hose snagged on something down in the gully and one of the men ran back to see what the problem was.
"Hey, Mike; call the cops! We have a body here."
The local patrol squad was the first to arrive and they radioed in to the coroner's office and Missing Persons.
Peggy Marsh from the Missing Persons office immediately recognized her best friend in the description of the dead woman. She ran down the corridor and into Dobey's office.
"Captain…Joan Meredith….they've found her…she's dead!"
Dobey looked up at her. "Are you sure?"
"Captain she was my best friend; I've known Merry since we were kids at school together; believe me I recognize the description."
Dobey told her to sit down and get herself together. He went in to the squad room and looked around. "Does any one have even the slightest idea where Hutch is?" No reply; the officers in the room all seemed to be concentrating on what they were doing. Dobey sensed a cover up.
"Well if anyone sees him; tell him I want him in my office faster than he knows how to run!"
He went back to his office and dialed Hutch's home number. After ten rings he gave up and put through a call to Dispatch to tell them to beep Hutchinson with an urgent request to call in. He didn't expect to get a reply – but he was an optimistic man at heart.
No sooner had he replaced the receiver than the 'phone rang again. This time it was the Chief himself. He wanted to know why Hutch hadn't reported to him as ordered earlier that afternoon. Alarm bells rang in Dobey's head.
"Chief, we have a new situation here…yes I know but this is more serious…yes it involves him I guess…Chief if I may…Detective Meredith has been found dead. Yes…Yes…I'll meet you there."
He stood up and went to put a hand on Peggy's shoulder. "Will you be OK?"
She sobbed.
"Wait there." He went back into the squad room and beckoned Minnie over.
"Take Peggy home and make sure she's OK. Meredith was her best friend."
Minnie looked at him.
"I guess you haven't heard yet." He said to everyone in the room. "Meredith is dead."

Hutch was at Christine's place. The 'phone was off the hook.
Christine was working in the kitchen when he came out of the shower.
"Feeling better?"
"Yes, thanks." He opened the fridge and retrieved a bottle of wine that had been set to cool. "Corkscrew?"
She used her wooden spoon to point to a drawer and Hutch found what he needed. He opened the bottle and poured the pale golden wine into the glasses that were waiting on the table. He handed a glass to Christine and they toasted their rekindled affair.
"Why don't you go and sit down and relax while I finish this?" She suggested as she checked the contents of the oven. Hutch smiled and did as he was told.
He switched on the television and immediately wished he hadn't.
"The body of a young woman was found in an arroyo near the Devil's Canyon area earlier this morning…." Hutch reached to switch it off but Christine had heard the commentary and was already picking up the 'phone.
"Ted? Hi. Listen I just switched on the TV; how come you didn't call me out to that one?...OK….do we know anything about her?...I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
Hutch stood up. "Hey that's a turnaround – you're the one who's running off to a reported body!" She was already in the bathroom checking her make-up. "If you want to come with me Mr. Po-lice-man you'd sure be welcome."

Hutch sighed. He wasn't sure about the jurisdiction of Devil's Canyon; he shrugged. "Might as well come along for the ride and join the other rubber necks."
"You might even be of use!" That stung.
Hutch let Christine drive. He fished in his pocket and found the beeper that he had switched off earlier and reluctantly pressed the button. The thing started beeping immediately and a quick check showed what he already knew – Dobey had tried to contact him.
"I guess you'd better drop me off at my place – I'll call Dobey and pretend I was sick or something."
She smiled and turned in the direction of Venice Place.
"Catch up with you later." Hutch said as she drove away.

He sprinted up to his apartment and picked up the 'phone just as it was about to stop ringing.
"Hutchinson!" The dulcet tones of his favorite angry Captain echoed along the wires.
"Yes Captain; I was just going to call you. I…uh…I wasn't feeling too good and I slept a little; I just switched on my beeper…"
"Never mind the excuses; just get your ass over here – join me at the crime scene. Oh and Hutchinson…."
"Yes Captain?"
"…Chief Pearson is already here."
Hutch put the 'phone down. "Shit," he muttered, "what the hell is Pearson doing there?"
He grabbed his gun and ran down to the car.

Dobey and Pearson were waiting for him. They were standing in a gully next to a tarpaulin that covered a body. Hutch could see from the silhouette that the victim was female.
"Captain. What do we have here?"
As he spoke he crouched by the cover and lifted a corner to look at the body.

"Oh shit! Meredith."
Dobey didn't say anything. Hutch stood up and ran a hand over his face. "Do we know anything Captain?"

"We know that a detective went on an undercover operation without the back up she should have expected from her partner." Hutch turned to see Pearson standing behind him. The Chief continued. "Too busy with the journalist to cover your partner, eh Hutchinson? It's getting to be a habit with you. Two cops are dead; but Hutchinson's sex life is just fine."

Hutch glowered at Pearson. "Now wait just a minute. Meredith didn't tell me where she was going and she didn't ask me to go with her. She's...she was…an adult and she took her own decisions."
"Are you telling me that you would have let Starsky go off without at least finding out what he had in mind?"
"I wouldn't have needed to ask."
Hutch walked away.

"Let me deal with him." Dobey said to Pearson. "I'll report to you later." He walked over to join Hutch who was standing to one side of the group of M.E. team workers.

Pearson returned to his car.

Starsky had taken to watching the television. He seemed to just stare at the screen; but Friedman was pretty sure that he was choosing what to watch…and enjoying it.
Most times he watched the kids' cartoon shows. The adventures of Penelope Pitstop, Dick Dastardly, Road Runner and Droopy seemed to get all of his attention. Other times he'd watch the daytime soaps – he seemed to favor the complicated sagas. One thing he never watched was a cop show.
He was sitting on his bed holding the TV control when Friedman came in. Starsky didn't seem to notice…he was riveted to the screen and Friedman saw that he was watching a local newscast.

Friedman sat in the bedside chair and glanced from the screen to his patient…gauging his reactions.

Christine appeared on the scene.
The blond bombshell herself!
"The body of a young black woman was discovered in this gully earlier this morning. While the Police refuse to give any details of her identity we have reason to believe that she may have been a police officer…."
Friedman glanced at Starsky…almost imperceptibly the cop seemed to be a little more alert.
"…Early indications are that the victim may have been sexually assaulted before her death.

Starsky drew his breath sharply. In the background behind Christine viewers could just make out the figures of a tall blond man and a fat black man apparently arguing. Friedman looked closer and saw that the blond was Hutch. He turned back to Starsky who had slumped back on the pillows and was staring at the ceiling. Friedman continued to listen to Christine while watching Starsky.

"This is Chief Pearson. Chief Pearson, thank you for agreeing to answer our questions. Can you confirm that the dead woman was a Police officer?" Pearson preened visible before answering. "Yes Ms. Phelps." Pearson could hardly disguise his dislike of this journalist and Friedman wondered why. Pearson continued. "The victim is Detective Joan Meredith; she was apparently working under cover. Unfortunately her partner was unable, or unwilling, to accompany her when she went undercover…"

Merry!

Starsky's sob attracted Friedman's attention.
"David…David, did you know her? Was she a friend?"
Nothing; just two big tears running down his cheek.

We were lovers…but were we friends?

Friedman went to switch off the television but Starsky snatched the control away from him. He continued to stare at the screen. Friedman sat back in his chair and continued to observe Starsky while listening to the television.

Christine was asking Pearson what he meant. "Are you implying that her partner deliberately left her in danger, Chief?" Pearson looked at her coldly. "Ms Phelps, when a Police officer prefers to give his attention to his girlfriend instead of giving it to his partner…I call that irresponsible. In fact I would go so far as to call it a dereliction of his duty. I think that is clear enough." Christine missed a beat before smiling at the Chief and asking: "One last question, could you give me the name of her partner." "With pleasure Ms. Phelps; the officer guilty of insubordination and failing to do his duty is Detective Kenneth Hutchinson." Pearson turned full face to the camera. "This is not he first time that Detective Hutchinson has neglected his duty preferring to be with his girlfriend instead of doing his job. Unfortunately, once again an officer is dead. Detective Hutchinson has been suspended until a full enquiry has established the facts of this murder."

That's not fair…it wasn't his fault…he couldn't see it coming…but if he hadn't betrayed me…

Starsky snapped the button and the screen went dead.

Friedman knew what he had to ask Starsky, but one look at his patient's devastated expression made him postpone the conversation – or at least the hope of one. "I'll leave you to get some rest; would you like me to send a nurse with a sedative?"
Starsky lowered his eyelids in a gesture that Friedman had come to understand as meaning "yes".

A sedative will make you sleep but it can't stop you from dreaming.
The scene replayed over and over.
Hutch was talking to Christine or was it Kira?
Somehow it melted into a vision of Hutch slumped in a hallway bleeding.
Joan Meredith's pretty face.
A pretty face on a pillow that became Christine's and there was Hutch in bed with her…..
Hutch was with Christine….
Hutch was with Kira….
And he was lying on the ground with bullets in his back.
And Meredith, sweet Joan Meredith was dead.

Dobey and Hutch started back to their cars. Christine came over, microphone held out in front of her like a sword. She was speaking as she walked.

"…and this is Captain Dobey who is Sergeant Hutchinson's senior officer. Captain Dobey, do you have any comment on Sergeant Hutchinson's suspension?"
Dobey looked at her as if he could smell something bad.
"No Ms. Phelps, I have no comment to make; especially to you!" He walked away as quickly as his bulk allowed. She came towards Hutch. He put his hand over the microphone and looked her in the eye. "Not now; I'll talk to you later." He ran to his car before she had a chance to say anything else.

Hutch followed Dobey back to headquarters. His initial instinct had been to refuse to obey orders and to go home instead. He didn't want to face this one. Somewhere in the back of his head he heard Starsky's steady voice; they had been discussing their fathers. "He taught me never to run away, Hutch – no matter how hard it is; if you don't face up to things you can't face up to yourself either."

He took a deep breath and drove on. Dobey parked on his allocated spot and Hutch, for once, was quick enough to grab a place being vacated by a patrol car about to go on duty. He congratulated himself on pulling off Starsky's trick! He decided to give Dobey time to get to his office and get his breath back. He sat fingering his badge and wondering if, when it came down to it, it was really worth all the misery it had caused him over the years.

"Sit down Hutchinson and listen to me." Dobey seemed more saddened than angered.
Hutch did as he was told.
"Why didn't you go with her?"
"Because she didn't even suggest it. In fact I don't think she wanted me to go along with her; she just wanted my car." Hutch answered as steadily as he could.
Dobey raised an eyebrow. "I don't remember you or Starsky ever giving in to that kind of excuse before."
Hutch sat in silence. It was true; in his mind's eye he saw Starsky glancing at him over the top of the Torino "he said 'alone' Hutch; or he'll kill a car load of kids." But he'd taken the patrol car and followed his partner to the old zoo all the same. And the time Starsky had stayed with him and weaned him off the heroin that he'd been forcibly addicted to.
They watched over one another.
There'd been the time when Hutch had an anxiety attack and was too terrified to cover his partner. Starsky had managed to break cover anyhow and get to him – Starsky took that risk for him – and now? He let himself be distracted by a pretty pair of legs. He felt ashamed.
"No Captain, you're right. I guess I wasn't thinking straight." Hutch made a silent wish that Dobey would take that as meaning he was worried about Starsky.
"Yes; I guess you weren't. But that is no excuse! Starsky's been in trouble before – you had a duty to Meredith."

Hutch stared at the floor.

"Pearson is going to hang you out to dry Hutch; and you don't have your partner to coming running to defend you this time."
Hutch didn't move.
"Go home and get some rest. Oh and Hutch; I'm sorry to ask this but…."
Hutch laid his gun and his badge on the desk and left the room in silence.

Under normal circumstances Hutch would have gone straight to Starsky. His partner would have known what to do – once he had even convinced Hutch that Captain Ryan was trying to frame them. Hutch regretted Ryan's absence now. Only eighteen months after being appointed Chief of Police, Ryan had died of a heart attack…and now Pearson had the job.

He pulled over to the side of the road and thought about exactly where he was heading. He yearned to be with Christine; to drown his sorrows in her sweet body. But somehow he felt uncomfortable about being with her. Pearson had a point – he had given Christine his attention twice too often. He sighed and headed to the Friedman Center.

The clinic was housed in a big house in Santa Monica. It was one of those gracious leafy avenues that Hutch had dreamed of when he was kid; the perfect setting for a high-priced lemonade stand. He gave his name at the gate and waited patiently while it swung open the drove up the driveway. The scrunch of the gravel under the tires was comforting in some strange way; Hutch felt that it was a sign of comfort and security – although he was not sure who was supposed to be comforted.

He parked in a bay marked for visitors and went into the building. Friedman was coming out of his office as Hutch walked in.

"Ken, could you give me a minute before you go to see David; I need to speak to you."
Hutch followed him to his office and settled in a comfortable leather chair facing a bay window that opened onto a rose garden. He had never actually been in Friedman's office before and he glanced around the room.
"The couch is over there, if that's what you're looking for. Most people are comfortable enough in that chair."
Hutch straightened instinctively; Friedman noticed and said nothing.

"David had a very bad day yesterday. He is still asleep and to be honest I don't really want to wake him…I want him to sleep; it's a kind of therapy."

"What happened?" Hutch sensed that something serious had happened since the last time he'd been – when was it?

Friedman glanced at him and then leaned back in his chair. He pressed the tips of his fingers together and held them to his mouth for a second before speaking.

"Two things. Yesterday morning, he was working on his sloop. Everything seemed normal and I saw no reason to prevent him from using the knife. One of the orderlies was watching him…but unfortunately…"

Hutch was on his feet and ready to run to Starsky's side.
"Sit down, Ken. He didn't do himself any real harm. It was what we call scarifying…tracing fine cuts on his arm. He only managed a few cuts and he probably won't even have a scar."
Hutch raised his eyes to the ceiling in a silent prayer of relief.
"You said two things, doctor."
"Yes; and this is really why I need to talk to you before I can allow you to see David again."
"You think I need your help too?"
"Do you?"
Hutch swallowed hard and turned away in disgust. Friedman noted this reaction and put it down to Starsky's earlier analysis.
"There's no harm in talking about things that are troubling you Ken." He said carefully.
"I don't need a shrink. What happened?"
"He was watching the television when the reports came in about detective Meredith. His reactions were interesting. I take it he knew her."
"He worked with her once when I was injured – they slept together a couple of times."
Friedman wrote something on his pad and Hutch couldn't help wondering what it might be. He didn't get a chance to find out because Friedman's beeper broke the silence with its shrill insistent cry of alarm. Friedman glanced at it and put his pen down abruptly; Hutch had never mastered Starsky's trick of reading upside down but even he could see that the doctor had stopped in mid-word.
"I think you had better come with me."
Hutch followed him out of the room.
They walked at a fast pace without actually running and arrived at Starsky's room.
Two orderlies were struggling to keep Starsky from banging his head against the wall.

It was a pathetic sight. Starsky was thinner than Hutch had ever seen him. His hip bones were easily visible and despite his naturally muscular build, his chest and abdomen seemed to be sunken in. His moustache and beard seemed to cover most of his face and his eyes stared from deep dark sockets. Hutch could hardly bear to look at his friend in this condition. He had a bandage on his arm covering the thin cuts that he had inflicted on himself.
He ran to Starsky's side and pushed one of the orderlies aside.
Starsky didn't react. He continued to struggle against the other orderly and succeeded in banging his head against the wall one more time. Hutch grabbed Starsky around the waist and dragged him to the ground. They fell together and Hutch enveloped his friend in his arms. Starsky went limp.
"Come on buddy; it's me, Hutch, hey….hey…Starsk…Dave…." He decided to take the risk; he lowered his voice and almost whispered… "Davey."
Starsky turned to look at him for a second and Hutch drew back as if stung. In the same brief second that he relaxed his grip and Starsky pulled away from him.

Friedman put his arms around the younger man's shoulders and led him gently to the bed. He guided Starsky to lie down and once again his patient showed no signs of resistance.
"I think it would be best if you left me alone with him." He nodded to the orderlies; "I can handle him."

Hutch left the room stunned. In that split second that Starsky had looked at him he had seen more anger in Starsky's eyes than he had ever seen before – and God know his partner could explode. He walked away and decided to wait in Friedman's office.

"Officer Ken Hutchinson." He heard his name on the PA system. "Urgent telephone call for Officer Ken Hutchinson." He went over to the nurse's station and took the 'phone that was handed to him. He listened to what Dobey had to say and gave the 'phone back to the young nurse who smiled warmly – if he'd been in a different frame of mind he might have been tempted to follow that up.

Friedman sat in the edge of the bed.
"David." He said gently. "David, you must let me help you. What are you so angry about? It is anger, isn't it David? You aren't just scared; you're angry too. Is it something to do with Hutch?"

Isn't everything 'something to do with Hutch'?

Starsky stared at the ceiling. He seemed to be thinking about his reply. He caught his lower lip with his teeth and Friedman saw a vulnerability that worried him. He had touched a raw nerve and now he had to soothe it enough to help Starsky to break through his self-imposed barrier of silence.

He looked carefully at Starsky and saw how deteriorated his physical condition had become. Tube-feeding had been replaced by an IV drip providing Starsky with sufficient salts, sugars, proteins and minerals to keep him from malnutrition, but it did little more and Starsky had obviously lost some muscle mass as well as the small amount of fat his body had stored before he was hospitalized.

"David, I'm going to leave you now….do you want to sleep?"
Starsky shook his head.

Friedman stopped at the desk and spoke to the nurse on duty.
"I think David would be happier if he had a new puzzle; could you find one for him and arrange for someone to observe him."

He went back to his office and found Hutch waiting for him.
"What's happening to him, doctor?"
"I wish I knew Hutch. I think I'm beginning to understand and I have to ask you to do something that will be difficult for you."
Hutch looked at him steadily. "If it'll help Starsk, I'll do anything."
"I have to ask you not to come here again until I tell you that it is OK."
Hutch was silent. The request hit him hard; he felt as if he'd taken a full punch to the solar plexus. He swallowed. "Why?"
"I'm not sure, but I think Starsky is reacting to something and you are the focus of whatever it is. I hope that it won't be too long."

Hutch stood up. His love for his best friend was tearing a hole in his soul right now and the thought that somehow he might be the reason for Starsky's unhappiness made the edges of that hole red and raw. And yet…and yet he knew that there was something in what Friedman said.

"I have to go. Dobey called; there's a lead on Meredith's murder that I have to follow up."

"I'll keep in touch, Hutch. The moment I think it is OK for you to see him; I promise I'll call you."
"Any time Doc.; I've turned out at two in the morning before and I can do it again."

"Oh and Hutch…."
"Yes?"
"I'm here if you need to talk."

Hutch left the room. How did he guess?

That's not the right piece.
Why can't I make things fit together anymore?
They haven't understood, none of them; not even Friedman.
I'm trying to put the pieces back together.
If I can do it with these puzzles how come I can't do it for me and Hutch?
We're falling apart and I can't put us back together again.

The nurse watched him as Starsky carefully pulled two mismatched puzzle pieces apart.
The puzzle was almost finished and the remaining pieces were like the keystones to an arch; without them the whole thing could fall apart. The jagged gap in the centre of the picture was what held the key to the whole; without it the full picture could not be seen.
She was mesmerized by his patience.

He dropped a piece on the floor; she stepped forward to pick it up and place it on the table.
Like a petulant child he picked up the same piece and dropped again. She bent to pick it up and then stopped. She looked at the puzzle piece that lay on the floor and stood up again.

She picked up the 'phone and said quietly: "I think you should ask Dr. Friedman to come back here."

Starsky had pushed the tray away and was lying back staring at the ceiling. Despite his beard she could see that a slight smile was playing on his lips.

I think she understands. I wonder if I do.

Hutch sat opposite Dobey's desk and looked at his Captain, who was standing by the window fiddling with the cord on the shade and wiping his face with a handkerchief.

"I thought I was under suspension."
"You are…but I need you and so I've called you in."
"And the Chief?"
"He's in Sacramento trying to impress the right people. That gives us a couple of days."
Hutch resisted the temptation to point out that the television and telephone networks reached as far as the State Capital. "I'll need my gun and my badge." Dobey was already opening the drawer in his desk.
Hutch pocketed his badge and slipped the gun into the back of his jeans – he would have to stop by his place and pick up his holster.
Dobey sat down. "We have a couple of leads. A couple of hikers found the Mars light and the radio from your car dumped up in the canyons. We put out an APB on your car and a patrol car saw it outside a grocery store; it was driven by a couple of hippie women."

The image of Meredith dressed as a hippy and going down the stairs with his car-keys came back to haunt Hutch.
"Did the patrol car follow them?"
"No."
Hutch swore under his breath. Dobey continued. "One of the cops had the good idea to do a driver ID check and he got the driver's address. She lives on an old farm up off Devil's Canyon. We checked her out – seems she inherited the farm about four years ago and she allows all-comers to go live there."

Hutch was halfway out of the room before Dobey had time to say any more.

He drove home and changed his clothes. He replaced the plaid shirt and tan leather jacket with a faded T-shirt and his poncho. He found the scruffiest pair of jeans he owned. He rejected going barefoot and pulled his old cowboy boots out of the closet. He shoved a few other things into his old backpack and was about to leave the apartment when he had a better idea. He picked up the 'phone.
"Captain; I'm going to need a motorbike…I thought of borrowing Starsky's but I guess it is too classy for this cover. I thought of that dirt bike we used a while back."
The vision of Starsky zooming in his wake as he ran from 'phone contact to 'phone contact flashed through his mind. He thought he heard someone sob. Dobey's voice brought him back to focus.
"Hutch? Are you listening to me?"
"Yes Captain."
"The bike will be ready for you in the main garage; don't forget to sign all the paperwork."
"Yes, Captain."
"And Hutch?"
"Yes?"
"I want you to take a wire too."
"No! Captain, I don't know how long I'll be in that place; with a wire I won't be able to …uh…participate."
"You take a wire; or you don't take the bike."
Hutch put down the 'phone and went down to the street. The sight of Meredith's car made him hesitate for a second; but he had no choice. He drove to headquarters and turned into the garage. One of the mechanics was checking the bike over. He handed Hutch a wad of papers to sign. Hutch was about to sign when he saw Dobey in the garage office. "Shit." He said under his breath.

Dobey beckoned him over and Hutch went into the office. Dobey held up the tiny transmitter and the wire. Hutch grimaced and raised his T-shirt.

It was a lovely day for a bike trip to the canyons and Hutch enjoyed the feel of the wind in his hair. He had started to let it grow long – he figured if Starsky could get away with a shock of long curls he should let his hair grow too. He even let Starsky's gentle ribbing slide. "Growing it long to make up for thinning on the top, buddy?"
He followed the directions that Dobey had given him. He turned off the road and onto a dirt track; at a turn of the track he saw that the farm was below him. He lifted his T-shirt and pulled the wire off his chest and slipped it into the saddle bag.
He started down the hill; although he was trying to go slowly he knew that his dust trail would attract attention long before he got down to the rambling house in the valley.

Sure enough; when he arrived in the yard a woman was already standing shielding her eyes against the sun with her hand. She held a cloth and was wearing an apron; Hutch noted the smear of flour on her nose.
He put both feet to the ground and sat astride the bike.

"Hi, my name's Carla but the people here call me Moon-song. Welcome."
Hutch held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Ken."
"Are you just passing through or do you want to join us?"
"I…uh…I'm on my way up to Washington State. I heard about this place from some guy in a bar back in...uh…"
"It doesn't matter. You're welcome to stay as long as you like. The only rules are that you contribute…something you know how to do; or money, whatever."

While they were talking Hutch had dismounted the bike; he noticed that the kickstand was broken. "Is there someplace I can put this?"
Moon-song pointed to an old cow-barn.

Hutch wheeled the bike over to the barn and slid open the door. His car was already in there; he hoped that he didn't show any reaction.

He followed her into the house and she gave him much the same tour that Meredith had with Jay. He threw his pack onto a cot and followed her back down stairs.
"Something smells good." He grinned.
"Bread; I always bake bread on Thursdays. Are you hungry?"

"In restless dreams I walk alone; narrow streets of cobblestone…."

I have to tell him.
I need to tell him
I want to tell him
I can't tell him
I must tell him
But he has to ask the right question.

"Will you take the money; or open the box?"

I'm waiting for him to ask the right question.
I'm waiting for him to unlock the door.

"Open the box! Open the box!"

It's like a room with no doors and no windows.
I've been in that room before.
Don't close the door…there's no light in here.
Let me out.
I have to get out.
I have to break out of here.

But how?

The nurse left Starsky and went to find Friedman.
"I think he's trying to tell us something, Doctor."
Friedman looked up from his files and gestured to her to sit down. "Tell me what happened."
"He was doing the puzzle. He'd almost finished it; just like he always does, he left the last center bits to last. I was watching him. I don't think he realized that I saw him look at me before he did it."
"Did what?"

"I thought it was an accident at first. He dropped one of the pieces on the floor. I picked up and gave it back to him…that's when I thought I saw him look at me…I was going to sit down again and he did it. Just like a kid…you know when a baby deliberately drops something to see what will happen? He did it deliberately; he didn't drop the piece by accident he threw it on the floor. And he waited 'til I was almost back in my chair before he dropped it again. And when I went to pick it up I realized…he dropped the key piece; the piece that finishes the picture. The key to the puzzle."

Friedman pressed his fingers to his lips and leaned back in his chair. "That is very interesting; thank you. One other thing; did you pick it up?"
"No; I guess I thought that if he really wanted to he'd pick it up himself when I was gone."

"Why don't we go and see if David has finished his puzzle. I think perhaps I'm beginning to solve mine."

Starsky was sitting cross-legged on the bed and rocking back and forth. The puzzle had been neatly replaced in its box but this time Friedman noticed a new detail. Starsky had replaced the competed puzzle in the box; he hadn't taken it apart. Friedman looked again…the key piece was missing.

"Where is the last piece of the puzzle David?"
Starsky smiled and stuck out his tongue; and Friedman finally understood. The nurse suppressed the urge to giggle at the sight of Starsky with a puzzle piece neatly balanced on the tip of his tongue.

Friedman reached out. "May I?" Starsky didn't move. Friedman removed the puzzle piece and carefully inserted it in its place. Starsky retracted his tongue and smiled; rocking back and forth on his bed he started to laugh an toneless, humorless hysterical laugh. Friedman sat on the bed and put an arm around him as the laughter turned to wracking sobs.
"When you're ready, David." He said softly.

Starsky pulled himself away from Friedman and looked him in the eye. Friedman said nothing; this in itself was a breakthrough. He kept his hands on the younger man's shoulders and smiled; never taking his own gaze from Starsky's face.
Starsky wiped his nose on his sleeve and shot a side-long glance at the puzzle that he had replaced in the box.

"The communication lines broke"
His voice was so faint that Friedman only just made out what he said.
Starsky turned away signaling his physical withdrawal. Friedman said nothing and stood to leave the room. He turned back to look once more at the silent emaciated figure in the bed.
"We'll talk tomorrow David. But first I'm going to arrange for you to have something to eat. Will you promise me that you will try to eat something?"
Starsky nodded without enthusiasm.

Back in his office Friedman took out a legal pad and started to write. This case was interesting enough for him to be considering writing a paper for the American Psychiatric Journal and he felt a need to keep constant notes.

"The patient presents a continued period of elective mutism following serious injury in the course of his work as a Police Officer. He has refused food and has also reacted in a hostile and aggressive manner towards his partner.
There has been one minor episode of self-inflicted wounds. No suicidal tendencies have been detected.
No invasive treatments have been used except the administration of sedatives when the patient shows excessive distress and the use of tube and IV feeding methods when he has refused to eat.
A clue to the patient's mental state was observed in his diligent completion of jigsaw puzzles. It was thought possible that this activity was a sub-conscious signaling that the patient was unable to correlate certain images in his own mind; or that he was in fact trying to arrange his thoughts.
A visit to the patient's home showed a sense of order and this is reflected in his manner of completing the puzzles. It was therefore conjectured that he was using this orderly puzzle-solving to help him correlate his own thoughts prior to consenting to communicate again.
A breakthrough of sorts occurred when the patient deliberately used a key piece of a puzzle to signal that in his mind or in his thoughts something was missing or out of place.
After a period of forty seven days the patient spoke for the first time today."

He looked over what he had written. I seemed dry and cold compared with the very human enigma that Starsky presented him with. But somehow he knew that if he was going to report this case efficiently he would have to remain as detached as possible – on paper at least. The 'phone rang on his desk.
"Yes?... Hello Captain; there has been some progress; David spoke to me today although I am not altogether sure what he was trying to tell me. He's promised to try to eat something and I'll start work with him tomorrow."

Moon and Hutch sat at the table outside the kitchen. She had made a pot of herb tea and they were sipping it and eating slices of a fruit cake that she had taken down from where it hung in a net outside the kitchen door.
"I thought that was for the birds." Hutch grinned.
"No; it…uh…benefits from being in the air and out of the reach of the kids."
"My mom made a fruit cake laced with rum when we were kids – never allowed a slice of it – but oh boy the crumbs were good. This is good too; but it isn't rum; what booze did you use?"
Moon hesitated and Hutch suspected that he had asked a stupid question.
"Oh it's a home brew I make with plants." She said as he reached for another slice. "Careful, if you aren't used to it, the effects are a little heavy." She watched his face carefully. With the sun spangling through the leaves of the trees he looked boyish with his golden curls and his broad white-toothed smile. "I might make you feel kind of mellow."

Hutch was feeling just that…mellow. It wasn't a familiar sensation; he had been drunk enough times but this wasn't drunk. He had also known the miseries of heroin and it wasn't that either. His mind flashed him a snapshot of Starsky slightly and happily stoned on a joint at the movie studios. Oh no!

Moon was standing up and reaching out her hand. In the gentle honey haze of his mind he saw no reason not to follow and they made their way upstairs to her bedroom.
After they had finished Moon rolled a joint and lit it. After taking a long draw she offered it to Hutch. He shook his head sheepishly. "I never could bring myself to smoke." He told her. "All the more for me then," she smiled and started to dress; the joint hanging from the corner of her mouth. Hutch dressed and they went back down to the kitchen.

A heated argument was going on over by the barn. Hutch could see two men discussing something; what really caught his eye was the camper van parked just beyond the barn.
He tried to disguise his interest but Moon had followed his gaze.
"What are you looking at?"
"Oh I...uh…I thought I recognized one of those guys; but truth is I'm short sighted and without my eyeglasses I can't really tell."
"Why don't you wear them?"
"Broke 'em. A friend taught me some exercises so I won't need a new pair; I think things are getting better – a while back I wouldn't have seen the barn even!"
She laughed.
"The one on the right is Jay. I guess he's my old man right now. The one on the left is new here; I forget his name. He and a few others tend to stay apart from the rest of us. They came here a couple of months back and they contribute financially so I don't complain that they are anti-social much of the time. I think a few of them follow a form of Hinduism – Hare Krishna, you know? Anyways they don't eat with us…they eat macrobiotic or something."

Hutch noted the reference to Hare Krishna and the fact that this group paid its way with money not shared skills.
He stood and stretched his legs. "You know I was on that bike for about five hours before I found this place and I haven't had any real chance to stretch my legs yet. I guess I'll take a walk around the place if that's OK."
"You're welcome. You could stop by the kitchen garden and bring me back a bunch of carrots."
She watched him as he walked way from her and hoped that he might be staying a few days.
Hutch started to walk towards the barn in the distance; but changed his mind. He didn't want his approach to seem too direct. He spotted a little girl playing down by the stream that ran through the property and made his way over to them.
"Hi! My name is Venus."
"My name is Ken – pretty boring huh?"
"You can change it. Our mom calls herself Moon-Song but we know it's really Carla"
Hutch laughed. The little girl looked up at him again. Are you going to stay here a little while? The new lady said she would help me with a daisy-chain but she went away."
Like so many young kids Venus didn't know how to keep much of a secret – unless it was one of her own making and her young mind ran from one thought to another spilling out little bit of information as it went.
"She was pretty. I think Gary liked her. She was here and then she went away." The child paused and chewed her thumb for a second. "But I think she's gonna come back 'cos she left her car behind."
Hutch smiled at the little girl. "Didn't she tell you where she was going?"
"No; but I think she went someplace with Gary. But he came back and she didn't."
Hutch thought quickly; he needed to be sure of this information and he needed to find out about Gary without alerting the child's suspicion.
"What was her name?"
"It was pretty – like her. Her name was Merry."
"That is a pretty name. Is Gary here now?"
Venus hesitated and for a moment Hutch worried that he had asked one question too many. "He's over there talking to my new dad."
"Your new dad?"
"Yes; mommy isn't with my daddy any more; Jay is my new daddy."
Hutch looked over towards the barn. Jay and Gary were still discussing something and it was evident that Jay was angry. Gary lashed out and that gave Hutch the excuse he needed. "Oh-oh;" he said to Venus "looks like I'd better go and give your dad a hand."
As he spoke Gary appeared to take a swing at Jay; Hutch ran up the slope and arrived just in time.
Without really thinking about it he swung his fist and caught Gary square on the jaw. Gary returned the compliment and Hutch grabbed at his shirt; the two of them fell and started to roll in the dirt each man struggling to get the upper hand. It was an even fight and Hutch needed to pull all the tricks he knew before he could get back on his feet. As he straightened up Gary came for him again; aiming low with his head. Hutch had seen Starsky do this often enough; lunging like a football player. Hutch side-stepped and Gary fell headlong. Hutch put a foot on the small of the other man's back.

While this was going on Jay had walked away and was on his way back to the main house. Hutch dragged Gary up by the scruff of his neck and half-dragged; half-pushed him into the barn.
"Suppose you explain what's going on?"
Gary rubbed his chin ruefully and sat down.
"Hey man it was just a little argument between friends. A little difference of opinion about my contribution to the commune."
He held out a hand to Hutch. "No hard feelings?" Hutch shook his hand. "I guess I misunderstood but from back there it looked like you two were going to have a real fight."
Gary looked at him for a moment. 'You really know how to handle yourself; need to make a few extra bucks?"
Hutch hesitated; "Yes, doesn't everybody?"
"How long will you be around?"
"Until I'm ready to move on."
"You wanna crash here with us?"
Hutch thought of Moon's soft body. Gary must have sensed something. "Hey man, if Moon gave you her special welcome that's all you get. She's with Jay!"
Hutch grinned. "I got the welcome and a slice of cake!"
"Man that's all they ever get!"
Hutch laughed softly. "I left my stuff in the house; I guess I'll go get it."
He walked back to the house and thought about his next move. If he had read Gary right he risked being recruited into the hold-up gang. Somehow he had to find out what it was that Jay and Gary had been arguing about.

He went into the house and started for the stairs. He heard low voices coming from the bedroom that he had visited with Moon. He went to the door to listen.

"I don't like it that's all. This is supposed to be a place of peace and harmony and those people …"
It was Moon speaking and as Hutch listened he heard Jay cut her off. "They pay their way, honey. In fact right now they're paying more than their way – without the last money they brought in we would be in trouble and you know it."
"I know that. But all the same Jay; if anyone ever traces them back to us. And another thing; what about that nice young woman who turned up a few days back – the last anyone saw of her she was with that Gary and now no-one knows where she is. Did you see her with them?"
"No. I didn't see her; and I didn't ask. Maybe she just decided to try somewhere else."
"Her car is still in the barn!"
"Shit!"
Hutch pulled back as he heard the sound of footsteps coming to the door. As the door opened he managed to look as if he had just started up the stairs. Jay came out of the bedroom.
"Hi Ken. Hope you didn't get too mussed up with Gary." He flashed a friendly grin.
"No, in fact I was just going to get my stuff; he invited me to go shack up with them."
"Oh right. Hey man that's cool – there's maybe a little more space in the barn than here."
"Yeah, and Gary says he might have a little job coming my way."
Jay looked at him steadily. "You wanna think twice before you get involved too much with that gang."
"Gang? You make 'em sound like desperate criminals."
The two men laughed – Jay more uneasily than Hutch. They went their separate ways, Jay downstairs and Hutch up the stairs to get his pack.

Sitting on his bed Hutch stopped to think for a moment about how he was going to handle this. He needed to get to his car without arousing suspicion so that he could salvage a spare pistol and a radio if they hadn't already been discovered. He picked up his pack and went back down to the kitchen.
Moon and Jay were talking in low careful voices and Hutch caught the words "disappeared" and "worried" as he went out of the door.

Back at the barn he dumped his stuff on an old army cot up in the hayloft.
"I'm going to check out my bike; it was running a little uneven back-aways and I want it running right when I move on out."

Checking that he was not observed Hutch slipped into the makeshift garage. He opened the passenger door of the car as quietly as he could and slid into the seat. He opened the glove box and sighed with relief. He took the spare pistol and a box of ammo and slipped them into his pocket. Then he took out the hand-held radio set and slipped that into another pocket. He slid out of the car and closed the door as quietly as he could, allowing for the fact that it usually refused to close without a slam.
He thought he heard someone outside and moved quickly to be in position by his bike if anyone came in. The door opened and a short man with a long graying beard came in.
"Hi, I heard you might need a little help with your bike."
Hutch grinned. "Yeah, she was kinda spluttery this morning."
"Have you checked the lines?"
"I was just going to - but the truth is I'm a rider not a mechanic."
"Man if you are going to take that thing to the North you'd better learn! First off it's a dirt bike not a road bike."
"I use a lot of back tracks."
The other man looked at him with an expression that mixed amusement and pity. "OK let's give this baby a check-over." He set to tinkering with the motor and Hutch watched as he worked. "My name's Ben, by the way." He shot over his shoulder as he started unscrewing something.
Ben checked the bike thoroughly. "Can't see anything wrong; maybe you just had a bit of dirt in the gas lines." After another few minutes Ben was satisfied that all was well.

Friedman had toyed with the idea of seeing Starsky in his office; but he decided to keep the environment as relaxed as possible. He sat at the side of the bed; Starsky was lying on top of the blankets, he was wearing pajama pants but no top.

"Before we do anything else, David I want you to relax completely."
Starsky grinned. "You gonna try to hypnotize me? It never works."
"This is just relaxation. Close your eyes. Now I want you to start with your feet; concentrate on your feet and your toes. Stretch your feet and feel them slowly relax. And again." He watched as Starsky flexed his toes and let them relax back again.
"Good now I want you to concentrate on your legs; the same exercise stretch them and then relax. Feel the warmth of relaxation fill your legs. They feel heavy and warm.
Breathe deeply and evenly. Breathe in when your stretch and let your breath out slowly when you relax. Now your abdomen. Breathe in as you tense the muscles and breathe out slowly as they relax."
Starsky drew in his breath and Friedman watched the strong abdominal muscles ripple as he did. "God he's thin," he thought as he saw Starsky's hip-bones jut out from the flesh; he also noted the clearly defined rib cage as it rose and fell with each breath.
"Now your arms; stretch them away from you and flex your fingers; stretch to the tips of your fingers. And now I want you to stretch your neck; very good…and finally scrunch up your face; really frown and then let it relax.
You should feel warm and relaxed now."
Starsky smiled. "Feels good."
"That's all for today David. I want you to relax. Tomorrow we'll talk."

Starsky lay on the bed; he felt as if he was floating a few inches above it and the warm secure feeling enveloped his mind and body.
Talk…yes talk. Talk about what? Dad? The guys in the jungle? Betrayal?
Fear?
"...and the sign burst out it's warning…" But what is it trying to tell me?

He needed the bathroom and sat up slowly before swinging his legs off the bed.
In the bathroom he glimpsed himself on the mirror and was horrified. Looking back at him from the mirror was a pale, emaciated version of himself; his hair was long and unkempt and his beard seemed to have taken over most of his face. He stood and stared at himself for a while before going back into his room and ringing for a nurse. When she came in he asked her to find him a shaving kit. She looked at him and smiled kindly. "You can't do that on your own."
Starsky grinned at her; "I could if I had my own shaving kit."
She promised to see what she could do. Starsky settled back on the bed; there was another new puzzle on the bed-table and he pulled it towards him. He looked at the box for a second before pushing it away again. I guess I don't need that anymore.
He picked up the TV control and flipped channels until he found a soap opera about the kind of family that only exists in a scriptwriter's imagination. At least if he watched this he wouldn't have to watch the images in his head. He watched for a while before falling asleep. The nurse looked in to check on him a few minutes later and switched it off. She pulled a blanket out of the closet and covered him. He slept without dreaming.

Life in the commune might have suited Hutch if he didn't have more important things on his mind. Moon noticed that he was quieter than the rest and came over to stand behind him.
"Something on your mind?" She asked softly. "Are you running away from demons or trying to find heaven?"
"That's an interesting choice." He laughed. "I guess I'm trying to settle a few things in my mind."
"I have strong shoulders." He turned and put his arms around her waist. "I noticed," he said with a broad grin.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"It's complicated. I did something dumb and a friend got hurt. Badly hurt; and right now he isn't speaking to me."
"Was it a girl?"
"Not this time. Well maybe yes…I told you it was complicated."
"And that's why you are running away all the way to Oregon or wherever?"
"I guess so. I guess it's also why I'm still here."
"You're right; it is complicated!" She left him staring at the embers of the fire in the barbecue pit. The others began to disappear for the night; some couple would only last the duration of a good trip – others like Jay and Moon would go on forever. Hutch sat alone for a while before wandering up to the barn and his bed in the hayloft.

"She's been asking questions about Merry…."

They must have either forgotten he was there or thought he was asleep. He heard voices down in the main part of the barn and strained to listen to what they were saying.

"Yeah; you should have got rid of the car too man; that was dumb."
"Don't worry, I know how to get rid of the car…and…"
Hutch couldn't hear the next words because they were drowned in the sound of footsteps as the speakers went outside. He checked to see if he was alone and then crawled over to the loading bay that made it possible to hoist hay up to the loft.

"…kill two birds with one stone."
"Are you sure?"
"Man; did you see the way he swung at me…that ain't no sweet little drop-out."
"That don't mean a thing – you throw a mean left yourself."
"Yeah. Take a good look at this and tell me I'm imagining it."
Although it was dark, Hutch could see that the speaker had handed something to Gary to look at."
Gary looked at what he held in his hand and then back at the other man. "Where'd you get that?"
"It was in the glove-box of the pig's car. I guess she was his partner."

Hutch drew back quickly and his movement made a lump of straw fall out of the loft and land at the feet of the man speaking to Gary. The two men looked up before walking back to the barn.

Hutch waited until he was sure that they were inside the barn; there was a rope hanging down from a pulley and he prayed that it hadn't been there so long that it was rotten. He grabbed it and lowered himself gently to the ground. The rope stopped short by about ten feet and Hutch let himself drop. His ankle turned as he landed and he bit his wrist to stop himself from crying out; he tried his weight on it carefully and despite the twinge of pain that ran up his leg he managed to run into the trees behind the barn.
"Now you're in trouble, Hutchinson," he muttered to himself; "gotta get to the car somehow." He waited to be sure that the other men had not heard him. They were up in the hayloft now and he could hear them swearing when they found out that he wasn't there. He decided to risk it. Keeping low and trying to stick to the line of the trees he hobbled down to the yard in front of the house. He had to get from the trees to the shed without attracting attention; although he had no reason to expect hostility from the people who were in there, he didn't want them to be able to tell Gary and his friends anything either. He crouched against the trunk of a tree to take some of the weight off his throbbing ankle and judged the distance between his cover.
He didn't hear it coming. Something heavy made contact with the back of his head and he fell unconscious at Gary's feet.

"Promise me Davey; whatever happens, no matter how hard it is, you won't run away, not owning up is the same as running away, do you understand that?"
The little boy looked up at his father. Hiding in the closet hadn't saved him this time and he knew he was going to end up with a smarting butt.
"I promise." He whispered.
When it was over his father said "that was because you tried to run away. If you had faced up to it – I might not have been so angry." He smiled and ruffled his son's unruly black curls. "You might even have gotten away with it! Now go and tell your momma that you're sorry and we won't ever talk about it again."

And now I'm trying to run away. I'm trying to hide in a closet…in the dark…in my mind.

"Hey…I think someone saw us." The men were running down the alley; leaving behind the corpse that lay bleeding on the ground. He waited, trembling, his heart pounding, not daring to breathe. If they saw him, he knew that one day they would be back for him.
He heard his mother scream.

I couldn't stop it happening.

Starsky woke up with a start. His heart was thumping and he was trembling. He sat up and reached for the TV control. He flipped through the channels and stopped when he saw Christine's face fill the screen. She was standing on the steps of the precinct building

"I'm with Captain Harold Dobey of the Metro Police Division."
Dobey looked trapped; and he was. It was impossible for him to leave the building.
It looked to Starsky like maybe the Captain had been eating in his place. "He must have gained ten pounds since I last saw him."
"Captain Dobey; I believe that there have been some new developments in the investigation of the death of detective Meredith."
"I have no statement for you, Ms Phelps." He put a full emphasis on the word 'you'. As he spoke a patrol car arrived in front of the building and the camera crew had to make way for them to hustle their prisoner up the steps…Dobey took his chance and lumbered to his car before Christine could ask him anything else.
She didn't miss a beat but smiled at the camera. "I guess the Captain is too busy following up the latest leads." She smiled steadily at the camera before lowering the microphone to signal the end of the shoot.

The soundman was at her side with a headset. "Jess wants to talk to you." She held an earphone to her head. "He made it sound personal Chris; what's going on?" She hesitated. "I guess it has something to do with Hutch…" "Well find out and get on with your goddamn job; if there's a lead find out how to follow it. Hey isn't Hutch your cop boyfriend?"
"Yes."
"So why not find out more from him?"
Christine sighed before answering; "because I don't know where he is."

When Hutch came to the first thing he noticed was that his head was pounding. The second thing was that he was trussed up like a turkey ready for the Thanksgiving oven and the third was that he was in a very confined space – and that space seemed to be vibrating. It took his blurry mind a few more seconds to put all this together and realize that he was in the trunk of a car; judging from the stink of exhaust fumes he reckoned that it was his car.
The car was moving fast over uneven ground. Hutch braced himself against the floor trying to reduce the shock of each bump and bounce. He could feel the exhaust throbbing below him and made a mental note to get it fixed when he got out of this mess. If I get out of this mess.
Gary was driving; he wasn't sure where to. He intended to kill the cop and dump him somewhere far enough out of town for it to take a long while for anyone to notice the car.
He pulled off the track and drove carefully down a slope to the edge of a drop.
"Perfect." He said. "I can make it look like an accident." He pulled up to the edge and opened the door.

The trunk lid opened and Hutch was blinded by the sudden burst of light. Gary towered over him. "Out you come, cop!" He grabbed Hutch by the shoulders and dragged him out of the trunk. Hutch's legs felt stiff from being cramped into a confined space for so long. He staggered and almost knocked Gary off balance. "Whoa there; careful we don't want to fall over the edge."
Hutch blinked and saw that they were within feet of a cliff that dropped down to a dried-out river bed below. He calculated in his mind but he couldn't work out where they were.
"Come here." Gary pulled him by the arm to the side of the car. He shoved him against the door and started to untie his hands.
Get the chance when you can Hutchinson – or you might never get another one.
"Stay there."
Hutch turned and saw that Gary was holding a gun on him.
"Hey man; I though you guys were all into peace and love; where'd that thing come from?"
"As if you didn't know! I guess you could say it's the tool of the trade – my way of contributing to the commune's funds."
Hutch looked at him steadily. "So you are involved in the hold-ups; did you shoot the cop or was it one of the others?"
"Why ask? Where you're going you won't be able to do anything about it anyway."
"Because if you didn't shoot him you only have an armed robbery rap…"
"And if I did, killing another cop won't make any difference will it?"
Hutch stepped forward and Gary lifted the gun; he heard the click of the safety catch.
"Stay where you are." Gary sidestepped to close the trunk; as he turned to do so, Hutch took his chance. He stepped forward and with a high kick sent the gun flying to the other side of the car. Gary was caught off balance and started to recover when the passenger door opened. Hutch hadn't reckoned with there being someone else in the car – dazzled by the sunlight after the darkness of the trunk he hadn't seen anyone else as Gary pushed him against the side of the car. He straightened up now to find himself staring down the barrel of a sawn-off shotgun.
"Jay?"
"Surprised?"
Hutch nodded. "Does Moon know?
"Nope…and I guess there's nobody going to tell her either, is there? Not you that's for sure."

Jay turned to Gary. "Get your ass into gear and put him in the driver's seat."
With the shotgun aimed at his head Hutch had no choice but to cooperate. Gary pushed him into the driver's seat and leaned over to turn the key. The engine coughed into life and Hutch cursed his ornery car for starting so damn easily when he least needed it.
Jay leaned over and released the parking brake before closing the passenger door. The last thing Hutch remembered was a blow to the side of his head.

Gary shut the door and he and Jay went around the back of the car to give it the one good push it needed to send it hurtling down the steep drop. The watched as the car rolled and tumbled before coming to a halt at a crazy angle wedged between two rocks.

They walked back to the track where the camper was waiting for them.
"How long do you reckon before someone finds him?"
"It could be months. Come on, looks like a storm is heading this way – let's get back to the farm."

The storm broke a half hour later. Hutch was beginning to regain consciousness; he was stuck in the car and his head was throbbing and roaring. A flash of lightning brought him to his senses; and he realized that the roaring was not in his head, but the sound of thunder. The rain started. It poured down in a solid sheet of water making Hutch think of the time he'd stood under a waterfall when he was a kid at summer camp.
"I've got to get out of here." He said to himself, speaking aloud as if to emphasize the urgency of the situation in his mind. He tried the door and the handle came off in his hand. A vision of Starsky scowling at the window handle of the passenger door in his hand flashed across his mind.

The rain was crashing against the car and Hutch thought he could hear something else. He tried to listen but the thunder and the rattling on the roof of the car made it impossible. He concentrated on finding a way of forcing himself out of the car.
He reckoned that if he could manage to free his legs he could maybe climb out of the window. He started wriggling and pulling himself up.
The rain and the thunder stopped; and Hutch heard something new. A roaring and rushing that reminded him again of the waterfall. He glanced to his right and saw it. A wall of water; a flash flood and it was heading straight for the stranded car. All he could do now was sit tight and pray.

When Hutch hadn't checked in for over twenty four hours Dobey decided that it was time to go in. He set off for the farm.

Moon watched as the car pulled into the yard. The driver got out and came over to her.
"I'm Captain Dobey, Metro police; I'm looking for a missing officer."
She stared at him. "And you think he's run away to join the hippies?"
Dobey smiled. Something told her that this woman was as innocent as she appeared to be. "Well ma'am, the last I heard from him he was coming out this way. Are you the only person here?"
Moon seemed to be thinking about something. "Come inside; I'll make coffee and we can talk." Dobey followed her into the house.
"Why was a cop coming here Captain?"
"Who else lives here ma'am?"
"This is my farm; an uncle left it to me. I live here with my children; my partner and a couple of others."
"Does anyone here own a camper painted with flowers?"
"No…I mean yes…I…"
He looked at her. "Does it belong to you?"
"No. There's a barn up there, I let people who are passing through use it. The people in there now – they have a camper like that."
"What do you know about them?"
"I know their names and I know that they contribute to the commune by buying groceries and stuff. I don't really know much about them, I'm sorry. They keep to themselves, but I guess one of them is a rich kid running away from the Golden Ghetto because they always have plenty of money." She hesitated; "Why do you ask?"

"We have every reason to believe that their money comes from a series of hold-ups Miss uh…uh…"
"Call me Moon, everyone else does." She saw the confused look in his eye. "OK my name is Carla, Carla Longridge."
"Well Ms Longridge it's like this. There have been a number of hold-ups recently and each time there was a group of Hippies around the place; and they drove off in a camper painted with flowers. We're pretty sure that the Hippies are part of the gang – the cover to get away. The last time they held a place up an officer was killed."
Moon was pale. "Go on."
"An undercover officer thought that she had a lead and she was last seen dressed as a hippie and driving out this way."
Moon sipped her coffee. "Merry."
"Yes. Officer Meredith. She was found dead a couple of days later. She'd been raped and abused before she was killed."
Moon lowered her head and ran her hands through her long hair. "I wondered why she went away without taking her car."
"Is her car still here?"
"Yes…I think so…it's in the shed." She stood to lead Dobey to the old shed. He opened the door and they stared at the empty space where Hutch's car had been. The motorbike was still there.
"Who does that belong to?" Dobey asked.
"Ken. He arrived yesterday; he said he was on his way to Oregon or Washington or someplace."
"Where is he now?"
"I don't know. He decided to stay in the barn last night. He and Gary had a fight, but it was OK afterwards. Jay said it was a misunderstanding."
Dobey started to walk to his car; Moon followed him. "Captain, is Ken the Officer you came looking for?"
He nodded. "Tell me about Gary and Jay."
"Gary is one of the group using the barn. Jay is my old man. I think maybe he invited Gary and his friends here; they hang out a lot. Hey come to think of it, they took Merry's car out this morning."
"Did you see which way they were going?"
"Yes. I think they were all going to hike or something because the others took the camper. They went up to the north of here."
Dobey reached inside his car and pulled out the radio mike. "This is Dobey. I want a helicopter search of the area north of Devil's Canyon." He turned to Moon. "When did they leave?"
"About an hour ago."
He clicked the mike back on. "Make that an area within a fifty-mile radius of this farm. The Ventura County Sheriff's office will give you the exact location. Tell them to look out for a camper painted with flowers and Hutchinson's car."
The thunder rolled overhead and the two of them looked to the north; it looked like the storm had already broken over where the searchers were going.

Friedman sat by Starsky's bedside
"I want you to do the relaxation exercise I taught you the other day."
He watched as Starsky flexed and relaxed his body. When he was sure that his patient was relaxed he spoke again.
"Ok David, I'd like to try something new with you. It's a new therapy and I think it will be of help to you. Are you willing to try?"
"Yes."
Friedman handed him a legal pad. "I want you to go back to your room and write all the words that come into your mind when you think about your father."
Starsky looked at him; "that's therapy?"
"You'll see how it works tomorrow."
"OK; you're the doctor." He sketched a mock salute and went back to his room.

He wrote "dad" at the top of the page and started to think about his relationship with him. Remembering his dad was tough. He'd loved and admired his father. Like most kids he saw his dad as a cross between super-hero and friend. He heard the bullet and the thud of his father hitting the ground. He sniffed.

Get your act together Starsk. You can do it… you can do it.

It didn't take him long; he allowed his instinct to guide him He looked at the page.
Soon he had written a list of feelings and emotions.
"Dad": 'love', 'respect' 'fear', 'sad', 'laughing'…'security', 'lonely'.

He put the pad down and flicked the remote control to see what was on the TV. He finally found his idea of a comedy show - a police series; one of those fantasies where in the space of 40 minutes the hero fought off attackers and escaped injury (or had a miraculous recovery) and managed to solve the case with 30 seconds to spare. This was one of his favorites - set in San Francisco - the cops wore suits and ties and one of them even wore a hat! He fell asleep before the end. When the nurse came in, she removed the remote from his hand and tucked him up.

The next afternoon Starsky was in Friedman's office going over his grid.
Friedman listened carefully as Starsky spoke of his father. "You remember him fondly but you also wrote 'fear'. Why is that Dave?"
Starsky was silent for a second. "I guess because Dad was a cop we were always worried that he might get hurt." "Is that the real reason?"
"No, I could be a pain in the proverbial when I was a kid. I guess I learned to be little frightened of him when I was in for a spanking. But I respected him- I guess I knew he was doing what he thought was best - even if my butt smarted!"

"Lonely?"
"I miss him. I sometimes wish he was there to put his arm around me - I get scared out there doc. I spent most of my time in 'Nam either shit-scared or stoned out of my mind to stop myself from being scared. I wanted him to come out from behind some bamboo bush and tell me that is was all a bad dream - like he did when I had nightmares when I was little." Starsky wiped his finger across his nose and sniffed. His eyes were brimming with tears. "I wish… wish he could be here now to tell me what to do…to help me …."

Friedman said nothing and let Starsky weep.
"Could you tell me what happened to him, Dave? Is it too painful for you?"
"No, I've described it often enough. I was coming home from an errand my mom sent me on. Dad was coming along the alley by our apartment building. I saw these wise-guys coming up behind him and I…I…I froze. I couldn't call out to him…I c…c…couldn't w…w…warn him. If I'd have called out…he might have…they would have….They shot him in the back. I saw him go down and I stayed hidden until they went. I went over and I saw all that blood…" He wiped his eyes and nose again.
Friedman poured Starsky a glass of water. He waited while Starsky sipped and calmed down.

"Ok, let's try 'love'.
"I loved him…I think I could even say I kinda worshiped him. He was my hero. I wanted to please him…I guess that's why in the end I decided to be a cop."
"Fear, you wrote it twice."
"Like I said I could be the proverbial pain in the ass. So I guess when I knew it was gonna be a case of me and dad alone in my room and my butt burning I got a little scared. I used to hide in the hall closet. He always found me and he took me into my room and put me across his knee. He didn't whip me – he spanked me with a slipper; hard enough for it to smart. One time he said it was because I tried to run away from what I'd done…not for what I'd done. He wanted me to face up to things. He was always fair. I don't ever remember getting punished for something that wasn't my fault or that I didn't really mean to happen – you know what I mean?"
Friedman nodded. "Like breaking something by accident?"
""Yeah, except the time when I broke the cookie jar." Starsky grinned. "I'd been banned from cookies for a week – and my mom makes the best chocolate chip cookies in the world; she made whole batch and my brother was taunting me with his cookies. I waited 'til mom was out of the room and I climbed up on a chair and I pulled down the jar – and the whole lot fell down. Smashed cookie jar; smashed cookies the lot. Dad came in when he heard the noise – that time he took my pants down! But he spanked Nicky too – for teasing me! He was always fair. I respected that…I knew I could trust him."

"Laughing?"
We used to laugh 'til we couldn't breathe. We used to go to a movie house that showed Chaplin and all those guys. Our favorite was Buster Keaton. I remember being with my dad and laughing until we cried.
And when he had time he took me to the park to play softball. When we were tired we'd sit on a bench and make up silly stories about the people in the park. We'd give them funny names and stuff. Sometimes mom said she thought we were both a little crazy."

"Security?"
"He was my dad. He was there…when I was scared and…" His voice trailed off.
"Did you feel that he had deserted you when he died?"
"No! It wasn't his fault. Anyway, he's still there if I need him; I know he is."
"Has he been with you since you were shot?"
"Yeah…kind of…he was there when I was dying…he told me that the pain would stop if I went with him…but I knew that if I did it would be copping out – not fighting to stay alive…I had to say no to him…not trust him that time."
"And that was a hard thing for you to do, wasn't it David?"
There was a silence as Starsky reached for a Kleenex. He blew his nose and looked at Friedman. "Yes," he whispered," it was a very tough decision…but I know I did the right thing. I didn't run away. Hey maybe if I'd gone with him he'd have spanked me again…"
He laughed, but Friedman could tell that somewhere in Starsky's mind he wasn't really joking.

"Go back to your room and rest. We'll talk again tomorrow."
Starsky stood up. "Aren't you giving me any homework?"
"Yes. Write me a list of all the things that scare you."
"Whoooooo. You'd better give me another pad!"

Hutch watched in horror as the wall of water seemed to rush towards him. He was trapped and all he could do was hope that the water wouldn't get into the car. The torrent came closer and enveloped the car. He felt it dislodge from its precarious perch and he looked anxiously around him. Water came up and over the car and he felt like he was in one of those tanks at the aquarium where the people stood and watched the fish swimming around. The car shifted again. He peered over his shoulder; there was no sign of water inside the car. Another movement and he realized that the force of the water was carrying the car along with it. He sat tight and hoped for the best.
It seemed like the water swept the car along for hours – but he knew that in a flash flood it was really only a matter of minutes. Soon the rush of water subsided and the car began to float up to the surface. Hutch waited until he could see where he was before trying to open a window to get more air. He sat still and waited for the car to settle. His feet were wet! He looked down and saw that the water level was slowly rising inside the car. Starsky had been nagging him to do something about the rusted sills and now he wished he'd listened. The weight of the water inside the car began to drag it down again and before he could react the water level outside was back up to the windows, making it impossible to open them without flooding the car and drowning.
The water level inside was rising fast too. His jeans were soaked up to the knees and he could feel the cold lapping against his crotch.
Think…what is the right thing to do? I've got to get out of here. It's something to do with pressure. He started calculating in his head; that triggered off a distracting vision; that wasn't such a bad idea. They had been trapped in an airtight room and while Hutch sat calculating how much oxygen they had and how long it would last (although he never really understood where he thought that would get them), Starsky had loaded enough weight onto a trolley to bust the door open. The pressure explosion had thrown them together. "That's it!" he exclaimed out loud. "I have to open the door when the water level inside the car is the same as outside the car!"
He waited until the water came up to his chin and took a deep breath. He released it and took a second deeper one and as he floated out of the seat he turned to open the door. The world moved in slow motion under water. He pushed the door open with no difficulty now that the pressure was even either side of it. He pushed himself away with his feet and floated to the surface.

The Helicopter crew was in constant contact with the Sheriff's two deputies. One of them was riding a dirt bike; the other was on horseback so that he could cover the more difficult terrain.
"There's been a flash flood over to the north west sector."
The deputy on horseback signaled that he was on his way.
As the helicopter swung to retrace its flight path the observer spotted the camper as it drove back to the farm.
"Tell Dobey that the Hippies are on their way back. No sign of Hutch's car though."

His buddies called him Hoss after the character in the TV series. He had just about grown up in the saddle and he and his horse made a perfect unit. Hoss cantered gently towards the river; he didn't want to go too fast in case he missed something – but on the other hand the possibility of a flash flood meant that he needed to get there as quickly as possible. He rode on and stood up in the stirrups to see ahead.
It was an awesome sight even for someone who had spent all of his childhood around here and knew what nature could do. The river bed had been dry only a few hours earlier and now the lower part of the valley was filled with swift-running muddy water. If anyone had been caught up in that, they stood no chance at all as far as Hoss could tell. His radio crackled. "Yea?"
"I'm up on the ridge about two miles north of you…there's tire tracks – looks like a car went over the edge." It was Cal his fellow deputy who favored a dirt bike instead of a horse.
Hoss reined the horse in and started to scan the river below him. He picked up his radio. "Do we have any idea how long ago the flood happened?"
The reply came from the Sheriff's office. "Just had the weather people on the line – they reckon it would have hit where you are about fifteen minutes ago."
Hoss knew that this meant that anything that had been hit two miles upstream would be further downstream than where he was. He radioed to the chopper. "Can you guys see me?"
"Yes we have you."
"OK; you need to head another couple of miles downstream and see if there's anything. I'm on my way."
He turned his horse and walked him down to the river's edge. He rode slowly alongside the murky waters and scanned each inch as he went.
The car was almost invisible in the muddy water. Its grayish brown paintwork blended almost completely with the color of the river; but Hoss was a fisherman and he could spot a gray trout in waters like this long before any of his friends did. Something caught his eye. "Whoa." He reined the horse to a halt. "Let's go take a closer look eh boy?" The horse whinnied at he spurred it gently into the river. Hoss knew that for another ten yards or so there would be footing enough for his horse to stand. He edged him along pulling more on the right rein than the left – exerting more pressure with the left leg – and the horse sidled like a crab along the water's edge. Hoss craned forward and then turned his horse back to the bank. "There's a car down there; but I don't think there's anyone in it."
The chopper passed above his head as he spoke and he watched as it came down to a spot about a hundred yards further downstream. He kicked his horse's flanks gently and the galloped over to where the chopper was coming down. Hoss wasn't quick enough to come to a halt and the horse reared up in fear at the noise from the rotors that were whining to a stop. Hoss held on tight and leaned forward to reassure his panicking horse. "OK boy; whoa there; it's OK now." The horse returned all four feet to the ground and stood snorting and pawing the earth. Hoss slipped off its back and found a rock to weight the reins to stop the still wary animal from bolting. He made his way down to the riverside to join the crew from the chopper.
Hutch was still alive; he'd swallowed a bit of muddy water and was spewing it up; but he was alive.
The pilot and his observer helped Hutch to the chopper and as Hoss calmed his terrified horse they took off to get Hutch to the nearest hospital.

The chopper pilot radioed ahead to the county hospital to receive permission to land on its helipad. He waited until he had clearance before switching channels to bring Dobey up to date.
"We've found him. He's just about half drowned; but he's going to be OK."
Dobey turned to Moon. "I'm willing to believe that you are not implicated in this; but I need to know where to find Jay and Gary." Moon was sobbing into her hands.
The heard the unmistakable chinking rattle of a VW engine and looked up to see the camper making its way to the barn. Dobey waited until it had parked and called the Sheriff's office for reinforcements.

Gary had no intention of going quietly. Two cops were dead – and, probably, a third one too. He had nothing to lose in a shootout. He checked the shotgun and pulled a pistol out of a box on the floor of the barn. He tossed the pistol to Jay. "If they take me alive I'll be sent to death row." Jay threw it back. "I'm not going to use that thing…I'll take the other risk."
"Suit yourself," Gary retrieved the pistol and started for the door. "But they don't need to have too many witnesses…"
Moon heard the shot and felt cold fingers grip her heart. "Jay," she whispered as they watched Gary come out of the barn and run for the cover of the woods. The Sheriff's men got their range and the firing started. When there was no more return fire from the woods one of them ran over and shouted "Hold your fire…he's down!"

Starsky was watching the evening news. He'd written a page of reasons why he got scared.

Someone knocked on the door. Starsky sat up and slipped the legal pad under his pillow – that was between him and Friedman.
An orderly brought him his dinner. He picked at it reluctantly – after so many hunger strikes he had little appetite; but he had promised Friedman he would eat; and now that he was beginning to find ways of talking about what was troubling him he didn't need to pull away from the world any more. His arm itched where the cuts were healing and he rubbed them ruefully as he wondered what his dad would have said about that.

He switched on the TV

Christine appeared on the screen.
"We have reports of a shooting out on a farm on the limits of Ventura County. At least two people are dead. The police report that the two dead men were involved in a series of hold ups in and around this city in the past few weeks. We have reason to believe that the incident is also connected to the investigation into the murder of Detective Joan Meredith."
The screen was filled with a shot of the farm.
"We are also getting reports that a Police officer was rescued from his car that had been swept away by a flash flood earlier today." The screen cut to a shot of a helicopter coming in to land on a hospital roof. "Unconfirmed information is that the officer in Detective …" Christine's voice wavered. She shook her head and pulled herself together. "Detective Ken Hutchinson."
Starsky switched off the television and pushed away the tray.

Friedman saw the report too. He called Dobey immediately to find out exactly how Hutch was. Reassured by Hutch in person that there was nothing to worry about, he went to Starsky's room.

"David?"
Starsky was staring at the ceiling; he didn't respond.
"David! Don't run away from it! What would your father say?" Friedman tried to sound as angry as he could. Starsky turned towards him.
"I'm not running away…I'm figuring out how to run back to him."

"That's interesting," Friedman thought as he left the room.

Starsky had done his homework and Friedman was reading the list carefully.
"I didn't expect so many things."
"You said everything!"
"Yes; where do you want to start?"
"You tell me – go on doc; pick one at random."
Friedman hesitated before taking his pen and touching the page at random.
"Spiders."
"Yuk; I hate the way they move. They way they scuttle up to you and, I don't know…they just seem so menacing. I'm not too crazy about crabs either; I guess it's the same movement. But I don't mind eating crabs – I don't think anyone eats spiders."
He giggled. "Oh wait a minute; when I was a kid my mom used to sing us this song and she did all the funny mimes and stuff." He started to sing in a surprisingly firm mid-baritone voice: "I know an old lady who swallowed a fly, I dunno why she swallowed a fly – perhaps she'll die. I know an old lady who swallowed a spider it wriggled and jiggled and tickled inside her. She swallowed the spider to catch the fly but I dunno why…" He stopped and gagged. "I remember now it used to make me feel sick when I was a kid too!"

"Let's change the subject…this is a very interesting one. Losing my legs."
"I was in 'Nam."
"I saw in your file. You were a sharpshooter and you got the Purple Heart."
"Yeah…I'm not so proud of that – I mean I didn't even want to be there! I wasn't trying to be a hero – just wanted to come home alive."
"What happened?"
"Remember William Calley?"
Friedman nodded; how could anyone forget the terrible revelations of the My Lai massacre and the trial of the leader of the unit that had committed it – Lieutenant William Calley; he'd been court-martialed in 1970 and the wound on America's conscience had taken a long time to heal.

"He wasn't the only one…there were plenty more like him. Just like the Nazis. When I was a kid…"
"Yes."
"When I was a kid my father showed me two men who seemed so old – but they were the same age as he was; dad had been there when they found the camps – these guys had survived them. I remember my dad telling me about the things he'd seen as his unit worked its way through Germany and Poland…I couldn't believe people could do things like that to other human beings….then I went to 'Nam and found out that they still do.
My unit was assigned to clear the way for an attack. Like you said, I was a sharpshooter so I was in position and ready to cover the others. There was one little group who didn't fit in with the rest of us – I don't know; their lieutenant was kind of weird; he didn't like me or a couple of the others – I came to realize that it was because we were Jews. He had a small group of guys all blond-haired blue-eyed farm boy types."
Starsky grinned, "Remind you of someone? Hutch isn't like that, thank God."
Friedman noted something on his pad – in case he needed to prompt Starsky about what Stern had told him.

"So anyway; this guy was always going on about the only good red is a dead red and all that crap. I mean my family was definitely on the left – my dad thought Kennedy was too conservative but he voted for him because who else was there? So like I said this lieutenant…uh…uh…Brown or something like that – real bland name – he was a real bastard. He would congratulate me for "wiping out another gook." And I'd be feeling sick because any human being has a right to live. So this lieutenant and his unit went on ahead of us and we were given order to follow them about an hour later. We set out and got into position. We could hear firing so we reckoned that they were under attack. I got myself up in a kind of tree and saw what was going on. My buddies walked straight into it…I tried to call out to them but with all the firing and screaming they didn't hear anything until it was too late. Brown and his men were killing everyone in sight in this village. I got down from my perch and saw some kids running away from a flame thrower – I pushed them into a ditch and fell with them into some kind of personnel trap. I saved their lives. That's why I got the medal."
"What about the others?"
"We were told that it was 'friendly fire' – an accident. Only I knew it wasn't. Brown's men gunned them down so they wouldn't be able to give evidence. They must have reckoned I'd die of my injuries."
"But you didn't."
"No; I had bad injuries – nearly lost an eye; and my leg was bad enough for some of the medics to want to take it off there and then…I guess when I couldn't move my leg this time it kind of came back to haunt me. I have nightmares about it…I had one the other night – I'm begging them not to take it off – but they do, and I'm conscious all the time they're sawing at it…"
Starsky lowered his head and wept quietly. Friedman stood up and put a hand on his shoulder. "That's enough for now."
"No…I haven't finished. When the Calley case came up I wanted to tell someone about what had happened to my unit. I called the Army attorney's office and guess who I was passed to…. By now he was a Colonel; I decide to keep my mouth shut and stay alive."

Friedman said nothing. Starsky stood up, "you're right; that's enough for today."

Hutch walked out of the hospital as soon as the doctor had OK'd him to go. He waited long enough for Huggy to come by with some clean dry clothes and then went straight to headquarters to find out what had happened. Dobey was waiting for him.
"Feeling better, Hutch?" Dobey asked him as he sat down. He glanced at Pearson and replied. "Yes thanks Captain; I guess I was lucky."
"We have the whole gang – the man known as Gary is a wanted felon in six states." He handed Hutch the file. Hutch scanned the page.
"Armed robbery, rape, kidnapping, drug running...and now we can add murder one."
"And you and Meredith both went in there with no backup!"
Hutch looked at him steadily. "I know; it was dumb and I should have thought harder before I went in like that. I guess I'm just not operating on all my cylinders; my mind is on …"
"Friedman called. Starsky's talking and eating."
Hutch reached for the 'phone.
"Use your own 'phone Hutch – you still have a desk out there." Dobey nodded towards the squad room.
"I have a 'phone at home too Captain, and if you don't mind I think this call needs to be private."
"Go ahead."

Huggy was waiting patiently sitting on Starsky's desk. He was turning the Piggy Bank over and over in his hands.
"I guess you want me to drive you someplace else now…like to a used car lot maybe?"
"Take me home first Hug, then I'll work out what to do about a car. I need to call Friedman."
"Dobey told me the good news."
Hutch looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "You knew and you didn't tell me?"
Huggy said nothing. He knew that Friedman had asked Hutch to stay away.

"Dr Friedman, this is Ken Hutchinson. The Captain told me that Starsky is speaking and eating again. Does this mean I can see him?"
There was a silence at the other end of the line.
"Doc?"
"I'm sorry Ken but I can't let you visit him just yet. He saw the report about your accident and it set him back a little. I think that we are making real progress though; I'm sure it won't be long before you can see him again. I'll let you know as soon as I can."
Hutch turned the words over 'set him back a little'. "What do you mean 'set him back'; he hasn't hurt himself again?"
"No, nothing like that. But we are working through some very painful memories right now and I don't think David is ready to see anyone yet."
Hutch put down the 'phone.

"OK Huggy; let's go visit a used car lot."
"I thought you'd never ask. Hey why don't we go see Merle?"
"Huggy, I want a car not a sideshow!"
"Remind me to tell Starsky that his car is a sideshow."

"Tell me about Hutch."

"Hutch": 'friend', 'love', 'trust', 'protective'…the Blond Blintz!"
Friedman noted the words as Starsky said them.
"Is that what you call him?"
"Amongst other things - but that's our secret!"

"'Love', I don't need an explanation of that - I've never seen two friends so close…On the other hand…"
"No. I love him; he's a really great guy. But I have no desire to get into bed with him!"
"I didn't think you did; but I had to provoke you!"
"Consider me unprovoked!"
Friedman laughed.
"And do you still love him?"
"Yes…that's what makes it so hard."
Friedman noted his reply and decided to leave that one until later.

"Ok, what about 'protective'? Which way around do you mean?"

"Ooh; that's a tough one. I guess I feel protective of him. Like I told you he was real rookie in the jungle when we hit the streets. I know I'm physically stronger than he is. But I also know that he is protective of me. I guess that's where I put trust in.
He once told me that he's the brains and I'm the…" Starsky glanced down at his body with a wry smile. "…I'm the not inconsiderable brawn; I guess I'm not quite up to that right now. I let him think he's the brains."
He paused and then said: "we have to trust one another - there's no-one else."
He sat quietly in his chair as the tears ran down his face. "It's like a chain between us. We've built it up over the years; link by link. It's kinda like the marriage vow – 'In sickness and health.' We've mopped each other up more times than I can think of. We are there for one another – I don't have to call for him; he doesn't have to call me…we just know when the other one is in trouble. It always worked like that."
He stopped to catch his breath but he couldn't stop the sobs.
Friedman said nothing. He was beginning to understand what Starsky meant about it being hard.
He waited while Starsky fought to get control again.

"It's like we can read each other's minds – anticipate the next move. Sometimes we don't even have to finish what we are saying …the other one just understands. We've worked together like hand in glove for over six years now. We have this saying 'Me and Thee' – meaning if all else fails we know who we can trust. I trust him with my life and he trusts me with his. And then he broke a link in the chain…and I can't repair it!"
He was sobbing bitterly now. Friedman went over and put his hand on Starsky's shoulder. He helped him to his feet and led him gently back to his room. Starsky leaned on him and allowed himself to be guided while he covered his face with his hands and wept. Friedman helped him into the bed and called for the nurse to bring a sedative.

The dreams came back to haunt him.
Kira smiling and laughing.
He had her up on his shoulders and she was attaching her plate collection to the wall.
Kira in the clip joint, dancing with Hutch…dancing too close to Hutch.
Hutch tucking in his shirt and looking sheepish.

Kira's face faded into Merry's. He could feel her warm body in his bed…smell her lemony perfume…taste sweet salty mouth.
He saw Hutch in bed with Kira…no Merry…no, not that, not with her….

He sat up in bed and screamed her name. "Terri!"
The darkness beckoned. "I've come to talk with you again…"
This time he wasn't going to follow the shadow down the narrow streets. He had to stay in the light and deal with things before they destroyed him completely; before he threw himself into the deep well of silence.

He reached for the bell. "I had a nightmare. Can you give me something stronger to help me sleep?" The nurse nodded but as she went to the door he called her back.
"No, maybe I should try to sleep without help. I learned to walk without crutches – I have to learn to sleep without them too."
"It's up to you David."
"Stay by my side until I'm asleep…please."
She sat in the chair and touched his arm. Go to sleep, I'll watch over you all night if you need me."
As he slept he tossed and turned. Sometimes he whimpered and she stroked his cheek until he was calm again.

The next morning Friedman came to see how Starsky was feeling.
"I hear you had a bad night David; do you want to wait until this afternoon before we talk again?"
"No; I'm ready."

"Yesterday you said that Hutch had broken the link and…" Friedman checked his notes. "Yes here it is; you said 'we have to trust one another - there's no-one else.' You also said, 'he broke a link in the chain…and I can't repair it!' Can you explain that to me?"

"Sometimes when we're undercover we can't tell anyone else what's going on – we have to trust each other and that's it. I guess when it comes right down to it – he's the only one I can really rely on…and vice versa."
"And the chain? How did he break the chain?"
Starsky closed his eyes. "He betrayed me with Kira."
"Kira?"
"We were working with her – but I was dating her before the assignment. Hutch started to get too close. I told him I was in love with her and that I was serious; he said he understood. And then I went to her place and as I walked in through the front door he came out of her bedroom – he hadn't even finished dressing! I hit him. The chain broke. I knew that something was missing after that. We made up and we even kind of got our revenge on her – she was using us both and I fell straight into her trap.
But after that...I guess I would always ask myself if he would be there when I needed him – and would I react the old way or be angry and miss a beat."

"Did it happen like that?"

"I don't know. I mean all I remember is that we were on our way to the car; I just beat him at ping pong and he owed me a big meal. I heard him shout but he wasn't quick enough…I don't know if he wasn't as alert as he should have been…ever since our fight I'm pretty sure he'd been drinking a little too much…but then no-one could have seen it coming. I mean they were dressed as cops and they were in a black and white…but somehow…"
"Somehow you blame Hutch for your injuries."
"No…yes… I mean… I don't know. And until I can be sure that I can trust him again…"
"But you told me that you love him and you would trust with your life. Tell me David; if it had been the other way round with Kira – would you have been looking out for Hutch in the old way?"
"Yes."
"Then why do you think he let you down?"
"Because I'm the one who got three bullets and nearly died."
"Do you blame him for that?"
"No. No" Starsky's voice was whisper again.
"You don't know if you can trust Hutch…is that what is upsetting you?"
"Yes."
"And do you trust yourself…would you trust yourself enough to find out if you can trust Hutch. What I'm asking you David, is whether you want to really find out if you still trust him."
"Yes…I want to trust him…I want to be sure that I still can."
"I think I know the next step we have to take."
Friedman left the room and Starsky switched on the television. A cartoon cat chased a cartoon mouse across the screen and Starsky giggled like a kid.

Hutch called Chris and told her to meet him at The Pits. He and Huggy stopped off on the way to look at a car that Hutch spotted as they drove past a used car lot. It was perfect. A 1971 Chevrolet Impala with no extras. It was white on the outside and gray inside and as far as Hutch was concerned that was just fine. The clock showed five thousand miles and the dealer assured Hutch that it had been owned by "a sweet old lady who only used it to go shopping." Huggy rolled his eyes and Hutch swallowed the story. He left a down-payment and arranged to collect it the next day. "Explain to me how it is that you are such a good cop and such a dumb customer." Huggy said as he drove away from the lot.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that car has rolled one hell of a lot further than five thousand miles…didn't you see the tires man?"
"They were all there, weren't they?"
Huggy sighed. "All there, and as bald as the American Eagle!"
"I'll deal with that tomorrow when I collect it. I mean a new set of tires won't cost me much; I only need ordinary tires not like Starsky with his triple-plated steel wired whachamacallits!"
Huggy pulled into his reserved place behind The Pits and they went in through the back entrance.
As he walked down the stairs Hutch stepped aside to let a young blonde woman pass him on her way up. She stopped and smiled; "Hi." And she was gone.
Kira…what was she doing here? He hadn't seen her since the day he and Starsky had left her stranded at the bar. She had been transferred to another precinct at Dobey's request before she could do any more damage to his best team. He watched the young woman walk away and realized that it wasn't Kira after all. But why did he feel haunted by her?
He shook his head and went on down to find Chris.

"Trust is a very strong emotion David. We trust different people in our lives for different reasons. A child trusts its parents. A lover trusts his partner. Friendship is built on trust. Before we go any further I want you to make a list of all the people who have ever been important in your life; people you have trusted."

"All of them? I can't remember every name, doc."
"Not all of them…the ones that come immediately to your mind."

Starsky started jotting down names and crossing them out again. Friedman noticed this and smiled gently.
"Make it easier David…two columns; men and women; and limit it to three or four names in each. You'll see, the first names that come into your mind will be the important ones."

Starsky tore the page off the pad and screwed into a tight ball. He looked for the waste paper basket and spotted it over by the wall just to the left of Friedman's chair. He lobbed the paper ball expertly and it went straight into the basket.
"Good shot."
"I'm one of the best. I had the top score in training camp – so they made me an elite sharpshooter in the army. I always score high at the range. Natural talent I guess!"

Friedman thought for a second. "Are you better than Hutch?"
Starsky looked slightly embarrassed. "Yeah. In fact sometimes I aim off the center of the target to make him feel better."
"Would you say that you have saved his life more often than he's saved yours?"
Starsky stared at him. "I've never thought about it. I mean I don't keep score…"
He stopped and sat very still for a few seconds. Friedman feared that his patient was going to relapse into his silence again. Starsky drew a line straight down the center of the page in front of him. "No…we don't keep score."
He wrote his lists and handed the pad to Freidman without another word. The psychiatrist read what Starsky had written:
Women: Mom. Bubba Starsky. Eva. Terry. Edith. Kira
Men: Dad. John Blaine. You. Me and Thee. Me and Thee

"There are things I don't understand here David."
"Me neither. I thought I did but...but I don't anymore. I'm sorry doc; I want to go back to my room now. I don't feel like talking about it anymore."
"That's fine David. We need to take things at your pace; we'll meet again tomorrow."
Starsky stood up. "Oh and David, I'm here whenever you want me if you don't want to wait until tomorrow."
"I know; that's why you are on the list."

Starsky tried to keep the image out of his mind. He spent hours watching the television – using the Late Late Show as an excuse not to go to sleep; not to have to see it in his dreams. It didn't matter what he was dreaming about…nightmares or sweet dreams; they all ended up the same. Two totally unrelated incidents that had nothing to do with one another – but somewhere deep in his subconscious they were linked inseparably and they came to haunt him every night.
The lists he wrote had taken him by surprise; the names flowed from the pencil to the page as if his hand wasn't really involved. It reminded him of the clairvoyants who claimed to communicate with the dead by taking a dictation from the 'other side'. He'd busted enough flakes and con-artists to know that it was all hooey. At least he thought it was hooey. Suppose it isn't?
He flipped channels and settled down to watch a TV movie about Houdini. Starsky had always loved conjurers and magicians. When he was kid he happily spent his pocket money to go see a magic show. He thought back to his eighth birthday; his dad had prepared a big surprise for him. He'd taken his excited little boy for a ride in a patrol car to a mystery destination. When they arrived in front of a Broadway theater little David was bouncing in his seat with excitement. His father led him into the dark theater and they settled into their seats. When the curtain opened the Magician was already on the stage. Dressed in his long black cloak with its red satin lining and a top hat and waving his magic wand the magician held the audience's attention. When he called for a volunteer to come and check the box Davey nearly burst with pride to see his father hop up onto the stage. "What is your job sir?" "I'm a police officer."
The magician grinned broadly at the audience. "Well we can certainly trust you sir."
Mike Starsky checked the box and confirmed that there were no trap doors or trick panels. He went back to sit next to is son and they watched awe-struck as the magician locked his assistant into the box and ran six swords through it.
All the way home Davey asked his dad over and over again. "But how did he do it?"
Watching the film – even knowing that the actor had all the advantages of cuts in filming and trick photography; and with his own first-hand experience of strait-jackets, Starsky was willing to suspend his belief and echo the little boy's question. How did he do it?
After the film came another film – and old musical; followed by a re-run of a series about life in a squeaky clean suburb where there was a hint of infidelity in the air.
He watched it without interest; anything to keep him awake. He flipped channel, he'd seen this movie about fifty times, but Godzilla was better than nothing.
The nurse found him asleep with the TV still on. She switched it off before the monster roared loud enough to wake her patient.

The monster was already roaring in his head.

I love you and I want you to move in with me.
No, that sounds to direct…and she really loves her apartment.
I love you; I want to live with you.
No, she'll want me to quit my place – and my stuff wouldn't look right in her apartment.
Come to think of it I don't much like her décor.
Geez what is this guy doing doesn't he know how to make a left turn. Come on buddy – I wanna get to see my beautiful lady. Hope I'll find a spot near her place for a change.
Shit…what's he doing here? No spaces – I don't care. So she got a klaxon to go with the car – stuff it lady!
Hope she likes the gift…took me so long to choose it. It was easier finding something for Terri. I guess Rosie would have approved of this one – hope she finds a place to put it – she can't nail it the wall that's for sure!
Come on; open the door and let me in.
There's something wrong – her kiss wasn't all there.
What the?
Bastard! Lousy, double-crossing bastard. He doesn't even look like he's sorry.
I had to hit him…I had to hurt him like he hurt me.
Bastard!
Bitch!

He broke the link and the chain didn't hold…
The chain didn't hold and he wasn't quick enough…

He woke in a cold sweat and looked at the clock; it was only one thirty; he'd slept an hour maybe? He sighed and pressed the call button. The nurse was by his bed within seconds.
"Another nightmare?"
"Yes."
She handed him a pill and a goblet of water. He swallowed the pill and hoped that the night would pass without more misery.

"Shall we start with the list of women, David?"
"If you like."
Friedman shook his head; "it's not up to me; it's up to you."
"Ok, ladies first!"
"We'll start with your mom."
"All kids trust their mom. She's the one who kisses it better when you skin your knee and who's there at home when you come home from school. Mom's the one who makes things go smoothly – and who listens to all your nonsense the first time you think you are in love."
"Was there ever a time when you thought she let you down?"
"I'm the eldest – I guess I felt a bit let down when Eva and Nicky turned up – less time for me and all that. But no, come to think of it, she never let me down. Hey, she's a New York Yiddisher Momma; I can rely on her to cry at least once when I call her Fridays."
"When did you last call her, David?"
Silence. "'I should call her. Does she know I'm I here?"
"Yes. Hutch called her and gave her my number." Starsky gave him a look of mock sympathy. "So you've been fielding all that anguish!"
"I've reassured her as much as I can. I think your friend Rabbi Stern talks to her too."
"I'll call her ton….wait a minute, what day are we?"
"Wednesday."
"No, I'll call her on Friday – wouldn't want to worry by calling on the wrong day!" He laughed softly.

"OK what about bubba Starsky – your grandmother. Why not your mom's mother?"
"I don't know. I guess I spent more time with bubba Starsky. I was her first grandson…her first grandchild. Mom's mom already had my cousin Danny."
"You trusted her; how?"
"She could be relied on to find a way to explain things. And I knew that if I went to her house there would always be something good to eat! I guess she was the wise woman in the family. When dad…when he was killed…she told my mom to observe Shiva; I can still hear her. 'Get your mourning over and done with then give your children all the attention they need from you.' And she was there when I wanted to talk about my dad and I thought it would upset my mom."

"Eva?"
"My little sister. When I fought with Nicky, Eva was always the witness who made sure dad knew who started it! I guess in a way I trust her to keep Nicky out of trouble when I'm not around."

"Terri?"
"The love of my life. I trusted her with my heart. For the first time in my life I really felt safe loving someone. I was ready to marry her – I'd have given up my job for her; I'd have nursed her…"
"What happened to her? Why didn't you marry her?"
She died. She was shot by a nut who wanted his revenge on me. I was there when she died; I felt her slip away from me…" He fought back the tears and swallowed hard. "She said she would always be with me…and I trusted her. And you know what? She is with me when I need her. She gives me the strength to fight back. I saw her waiting for me…but I didn't want to die."

Friedman put down his pen. "What do you mean?"
"When I died…when my heart stopped… I knew I was dead because Terri and dad were there waiting to take me with them."
"You knew that you were dead? Can you tell me what happened?"
"Near death experience? OK. I started to feel cold and it felt like there was something really heavy on my chest. It got dark and I could see a light over in the distance and they were there, waiting for me. Dad told me it wasn't time yet…so I tried to get back. I felt this horrible pain; it felt like my whole body rattled…and then I heard the monitors beeping so I knew I'd won that time."
"Could you hear what was going on around you?"
"Yes…everything…I wanted to say I was there – but I couldn't hear my voice when I thought I was speaking. Like when I shouted a warning to the guys in the jungle – I heard my voice; but there was no sound when I shouted."
It looked to Friedman that Starsky had suddenly thought of something that distressed him. He said nothing and prompted the next response.

"Edith?"
"Captain Dobey's wife. She is kind of like a second mom to me and Hutch sometimes."

"The last name; why did you cross it out?"
"I didn't mean to even write it. I trusted her; I was in love with her. It could never have been like with Terri; but I wanted to live with her. We were working…all three of us on the same case. She played me and Hutch against each other. I think maybe she won. I crossed it out because nobody should trust a bitch like that."

Friedman decided not to pursue the subject – especially because Hutch was involved.
"Would you like some coffee before we go on?"
"I'd rather break for lunch."
Friedman grinned. "I heard you've got your appetite back." He looked at Starsky as the younger man left the room. He was beginning to regain a little weight and now that he had shaved he looked less cadaverous; and less lost. He knew that Starsky had started walking around the grounds every day and one of the orderlies had seen him break into a little jog now and then. Starsky was certainly on the mend physically; but Friedman couldn't be certain that his psychological healing was going as well. Starsky still had a capacity for long silences and he often spent the afternoon after his therapy session withdrawn and distant.

Starsky still preferred to eat in his room. Friedman had tried to encourage him to join the others in the dining room. "No! I'm not ready for other people!" Starsky had refused point blank. Friedman decided not to pursue the point.

He sat cross-legged on his bed and picked at the food on his plate. He managed to eat the chicken and some of the French fries but the dessert defeated him. He took an apple from his fruit bowl and started to eat that instead. He flipped on the TV and lost himself in the strange world of soap opera.

I'm going to have to tell him about it. He's going to want to know what it means and why I crossed it out. Me and thee…who can we trust when every one else is suspect? Me and Thee. But can I trust him any more. Will he be there when I get out of here? I guess I need to ask myself if I'll be there for him too. What if I can't go back to work, then who do I turn to? Where do you go when there's no place left to go? I could run to Terri and Dad…but that would be running away from the reality. Only trouble is I don't think that I want to face the reality. I guess that's what Friedman is there for. I guess I have to tell him the whole miserable story. This is a story of love and betrayal…Geez I sound like one of these dumb TV series!

Hutch couldn't stand it any longer. He called Dobey at home and asked to go and see him. Harold Dobey was about to go out to play golf; but he decided that Hutch was more important. "Edith says come to lunch."
Hutch arrived with a bouquet of flowers for his hostess; after kissing Rosie and giving Cal a hug he followed Dobey into the den.
"Have you heard anything about Starsky, Captain?"
Dobey sat down and motioned Hutch to do the same. "I talk with Friedman just about every day. It sounds like Dave is beginning to come back to normal; but he still has a long way to go according to the doctor."
"Have you seen him?"
"Yes. I didn't want to tell you that Hutch. I know that Friedman said you can't visit Starsky yet; but Edith and I went to see him yesterday. He is still kind of withdrawn; but he managed a big slice of chocolate cake; he's shaved and his put on a bit of weight; but I don't know, he still looks like a shadow of himself. It's in his eyes…"
"Did Freidman say anything about letting me see him?"
"No. I'm sorry Hutch. Edith started to talk about you and Starsky just turned away."
Hutch ran a hand over his face. "I wish he'd let me talk to him…to explain."
"Give him time. He'll let you in when he's ready."
"If he's ever ready."
Edith called them into lunch and Dobey and Hutch agreed not to mention Starsky in front of Rosie.

After lunch Hutch made his excuses and left as soon as he'd had his coffee. On his way home he went over to Starsky's apartment to water the plants. He sat on Starsky's sofa and fingered the edges of the Navajo rug that covered it. He looked around the room and saw for the umpteenth time what a complex character his best friend was. He went into the kitchen and hopped up onto the counter and started to dial Friedman's number.
The phone at the other end of the line rang four times before Friedman answered. Hutch could hear a familiar voice in the background.
"Am I disturbing something?"
"Yes."
"May I come and see you later?"
"Yes."
"When will it be OK to come?"
"After five thirty."
"Thanks," but Friedman had already cut the line.
Hutch replaced the handset on its hook and slid back down to the floor. He checked the apartment once more and locked the door carefully. He slipped the key in his pocket. He had decided not to leave it in its usual hiding place while Starsky was away for so long. He drove home with all the car windows open and let the warm evening air
blow through his hair. He let himself into his apartment and showered and went straight to bed. He lay awake for hours before finally falling asleep. He didn't dream.

"I don't think I need to ask you why you put your dad first on the list, do I."
Starsky looked at him steadily. "No, I guess not. I've said it all before, haven't I?"

So now we go to the next name…this is going to be interesting. For me too!

"Who is John Blaine?"
"Was. He was a cop who lived next door to my Aunt's place when I came out here after dad was killed. He caught me before I fell in with wrong kids; and he taught me to fight too. When I came back from 'Nam he had moved away. He'd been promoted and gone to live in a nice little house away from his beat. Funny that; Hutch and I spend a lot of our time on our patch even when we aren't working. Hutch even lives in the area. Anyway; I came back from 'Nam and I was kind of aimless. I got a job driving a cab and some of the old crowd I used to hang out with wanted me to join in their less than legal activities. I knew I couldn't let my dad down and so I called John and he told me how to apply for the Police Academy. A couple of years ago he was murdered; we found out that he was bisexual."
Friedman looked up. "Did that bother you?"
"Well you had to ask that, didn't you? Yeah I think at first, yes…I think I was kind of shocked and then I thought – it's up to him isn't it. Hutch tried to be all laid back about it – but I think it bugged him more than it did me. He must have thought about it 'cos one day he said that he'd calculated all the time we spent together and…"
"But you didn't let it worry you?"
"Nah. Some guys, you know, they think they are so attractive that if a gay man comes by he would have to jump 'em…and they feel threatened. I don't think about it. I mean I know what I like and that's all. So anyway; John Blaine was someone I'd always trusted. I think maybe for a while I felt kind of let down by him…you know; not the person I thought he was etc…but I guess I realized I was being silly and that I should remember him for all the good things."

"Why do you trust me?"
"Because you are going to help me get out of this mess."
Friedman said nothing.

"I don't understand the next thing you've written here."
"Me and Thee?"
"Yes; and why did you write it twice and cross out 'and Thee'?"

"Ok. It started way back when we were starting out together. We were in a tight corner and we weren't sure who to rely on. Hutch came out with this line that he said came from Shakespeare or something. 'It's me and thee against the world.' And it kind of stuck and became our little catch phrase. Every time one of us was up against it we just had to say 'me and thee' and things felt better. It sort of sums up the way we've always supported each other and been there for one another too."
"So it means that you trust Hutch."
Starsky said nothing. He stared out of the window and didn't seem to react. Friedman waited. "You do trust Hutch, don't you David?" Starsky didn't move; then his shoulders began to shake and he out his face in his hands and wept. Friedman said nothing; this was not the moment for his to intervene in any way; he had to let Starsky make the next move.
The next move caught him off guard. Starsky stood up and walked over to the window. He opened the sliding door and walked out of the room into the garden. He walked steadily and continued towards the lake in the middle of the grounds. Friedman followed and signaled to the orderly on duty in the garden to follow. Starsky walked on and came to the edge of the lake. He didn't stop but continued to walk until he was waist deep in the water. Friedman and the orderly started to run towards him. The orderly plunged into the water and arrived alongside Starsky just as the water began to lap at his chin. He didn't struggle or try to resist; he allowed the orderly to drag him back to the grass. He coughed and spat out muddy water and continued to lie on his back staring at the sky; he showed no reaction when Friedman spoke to him.
Friedman called Hutch and asked him not to come later that day as agreed. Hutch sounded disappointed but accepted.

This time the silence lasted a week. Starsky didn't react to anything around him; after he wet the bed Friedman had him cathetered and arranged for an IV feed. He remained apparently catatonic for the next few days.

On the Friday Friedman placed a call to Lily Starsky at the regular time.
"Mrs. Starsky, this is Doctor Friedman. No…please…I don't want you to be upset. I need you to help me…yes…If I could explain. David had a bad day a little while ago and he has been very withdrawn again." He avoided saying how bad it was. "I think if he heard your voice…yes he is conscious…no, nothing like that…he just relapsed a little that's all." He kept his voice as calm as possible and hope that Lily's maternal instincts wouldn't make her see through his words.
He held the 'phone by Starsky's ear.
"Davey, Davey darling it's momma. Speak to me sweetheart. Davey tell me you're OK; please baby…please sweetheart. My little Dov." Friedman heard her say a few words in Yiddish."
Starsky turned to the 'phone. "Momma will you stop fussing. And don't call me Dov!"
Friedman took the 'phone and promised that Starsky would call his mother again later.
"Welcome back!"
"She knows I hate it if she calls me that; only my grandmother was allowed to call me that."
"Why?"
"It was her father's name – they named him for me. He was a rabbi back in the old country." He looked around him. "How long have I been tubed up like this?"
"Ever since we last spoke – do you remember what happened."
"I prefer not to."
Friedman called a nurse to remove the IV and the catheter. "When you are ready, come and see me. But call your mother first!"

"Shall we try again? Why did you cross out 'and thee' the second time?"
"He broke the link."
"You said that before; I still don't know what you meant."
"Have you asked him?"
"No."
"Talk to him and then I'll tell you how I see it."
Starsky left Friedman to figure out what the hell this meant. He remembered that Hutch had called during that last fateful session; he found Hutch's number and dialed.

Hutch was sitting in the same chair in front of Friedman's desk.
"Before we start I want you to understand that I do not analyze, I help my patients to identify what is troubling them and I guide them to a solution. I do not read meaning into what they say; I simply help them to come to terms with their troubles. Do you understand the difference?"
Hutch nodded.
"OK; now if I'm going to help Starsky through his labyrinth I need to know about you and how you stand in relation to him. I know that he loves you, and that he has trusted you with his life more than once. I need to know how you feel about him. Without thinking about it, what is the first word that comes into your head when you think of Starsky?"
Hutch shook his head. "I guess it's too complicated for one word."
"That's much the same as he said." They both laughed.
"Now I'll tell you why I asked you to come here now. Something strange happened a few days ago. David and I had been talking for some time about trust. He drew up lists of people he trusted. We went through the list of women; he put one name and crossed it out. When I asked him why he was bitter; he called her a bitch and said that she played you off against one another." Hutch seemed to recoil slightly. Friedman ignored it and continued. "When David first came out of his silence he said 'he broke the link'. At first I didn't understand; but when he said what he did about this woman – Kira – I began to see that there might be a link. Our next discussion was about the men he had trusted. He told me about his friend John Blaine and his feelings about him. He even joked about his relationship with you. And then…no; I think it would be better if I show you this."
He handed Hutch the sheet of paper on which Starsky had written his second list. He watched Hutch's face as he read 'Me and Thee' and noted the shocked reaction.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Friedman was pouring two cups of coffee as he spoke. He handed a cup to Hutch and sat down again. He sipped and looked at Hutch over the rim of the cup.

Hutch drew his breath. He was still trying to understand it himself.

"You could start be explaining "Me and Thee"."
"Way back; when we were first working together…we were involved in a case and there was a possibility that a cop had been corrupted…
Starsky said "who can we trust then" and I quoted something I remembered from High School – I think it's Shakespeare but I'm not sure; anyway it went something like 'Me and Thee against all others' and we kind of made it our catch-phrase. "
"I see. That's more or less what David told me too."
Hutch looked up at him angrily, "then why did you ask?"
"Because I wanted to be sure you both saw it in the same way. I'd like you tell me about it a little more. What you might call the 'me and thee' moments in the past few years.
It took Hutch about an hour to tell Friedman about the different times that he or Starsky had been there for his partner.
"And now I have a very tough question to ask you Hutch."
"Go on."
"Starsky has used the same phrase twice now. 'He broke the link.' It seems to have something to do with trusting you…that's what we were talking about when he walked into the lake. I asked him if he still trusted you – and that was his reaction. It seems that Starsky feels that you let him down. Can you think of any time when he let you down? Has he ever broken the link?"

Hutch said nothing. He stared at Friedman and then stared at the floor. He felt like a kid hauled up in front of the principal and waiting to be paddled. Has he ever let me down? Was he ever not there when I needed him? Has he ever broken the link? He turned it over in his head but he couldn't really think of one time where Starsky had betrayed him. But he…he knew exactly when the link broke.

"No. No I don't think Starsky has ever betrayed me. He has never broken my trust. I thought he did once; but I was wrong – he acted out of love for me."
"Tell me about it."
"I was dating a woman called Gillian. I was totally in love with her. She told me that she was writer; but Starsky knew that it wasn't true. We'd had to go see someone about a call-girl racket and Starsky saw her at work – she wasn't writing. He didn't tell me and he tried to buy her off…he offered her money to leave town before I found out. She was murdered before she could escape and Starsky found her. He tried to protect me and I accused him of…of…I don't know what…but I hit him; we fought until I realized that he was only doing what he thought was the best."

"Have you ever let him down – betrayed him."
Hutch buried his face in his hands to hide his tears of shame. "Yes. Once, we were in an alley and trapped in a shootout; I got scared and didn't cover him. He found me cowering and unable to fire my gun. I put his life at risk and he didn't say a word. He wasn't angry at me…he just helped me up and said it would be OK."
"Would you say that you broke the link?"
"No; and in any case it was a long time ago, I can't see why it would hit him now."
"Something more recent then…a betrayal rather than letting him down."
"Kira."
"The woman that Starsky called a bitch?"
"How much has he told you about her?"
Friedman checked over his notes. "He told me that the three of you worked on a case together and that she 'played us off against each other' and he called her a bitch."

"It was the last case we had before…before he was shot. Someone was killing blonde dancers from clip-joint. Kira is blonde so she was the lure. Starsky and I were assigned to watch out for all the girls in the place. He had already dated her a few times and he was falling. He doesn't fall that deep as often as I do – he was serious about her. I told you before, when Starsky decides he wants to do something he commits himself. I kind of fancied her too; and she responded. Something about the way she came onto me, I thought that maybe Starsky had got the wrong idea about how she felt about him. He came round to her place and arrived just as I came out of her bedroom. He rammed me and hit me and then ran out. I thought he was never going to speak to me again. But Starsky doesn't hold a grudge for long and we talked and saw that she was playing us along. I thought that it was all over…I was wrong."

"Thank you Hutch. I think I'm finally getting the last pieces of this puzzle together. I'm going to see David again today; I'll call you tomorrow. Unless you want to talk to me a little more now."

Hutch shook his head. I'll be at home Doc. You have my number."

"I want to talk to you about Hutch."
Starsky sighed and rolled his eyes. "I'm listening."
It was Friedman's turn to sigh. "David, please. You have to confront this eventually."
"Ok. What do you want to hear? How he's my best friend; how I love him more that I love my kid brother – who can be pretty hard to love sometimes by the way. How I trusted him with my life and how I learned that I couldn't trust him anymore. And then I got shot! How I lay in that hospital bed with tubes in my nose and my cock and my ass and just about any other place they could find to put a fucking tube and how it hurt and how I was scared shitless – only of course there was tube to take care of that too. And all I could think of was that my best friend betrayed me and then this happened. There I was more dead than alive – wondering if I shouldn't take the total-blackness-it's-all-over option; and determined to fight back 'cos I kinda like life and I was thinking of spending a bit more of it before I went and wondering how come he didn't see it coming…"
He ran out of breath and stared at Friedman. He was shaking and fighting to keep control of his emotions; fear, anger and hurt all rolled into one.
"Is that what you want to hear?"
Friedman said nothing. He made a couple of notes and looked up again.
"The question is really 'is that what you want to tell me'?"
Starsky threw his hands up in disgust.
"Let me put it another way, David. In that tirade I detected anger but I also detected that you are hurt and upset and maybe more. Am I right?"
Starsky examined his fingernails and bit his lower lip in a quick movement. He raised his eyes to Friedman and the doctor saw that they were brimming with tears.
"Yes…and more…the more is that I'm frightened."
He turned away and his shoulders heaved as he sobbed silently. Friedman stood up and went over to the side of the chair. "Come with me David… it's time to explore those feeling a little more." He led Starsky to the other side of the room and drew aside a curtain. He gestured to the couch by the window. "Make yourself comfortable and we'll start when you are ready."
Starsky settled on the couch and unbidden started to go through the relaxation technique that Freidman had taught him.
"That helps you doesn't it?"
"More than you will ever know." Starsky sounded grim.
If only I could teach my mind to relax like this…if only I could stay calm when I think of it.

"Where do you want to start David? Which emotion comes to you first?"
"Anger."
"What makes you angry David?"
Good question…sloppy work; stupid questions; seeing yet another woman dead in a sordid apartment or hotel; seeing the results of mindless violence and squalid greed. My job!
"Lots of things…but I guess you mean what is making me feel anger right now. OK. I told you how it was when I was in the hospital. I was scared of dying – but it would have been an easy release from all that pain. I was angry too. Angry because I couldn't get through to them – tell them it hurt and that I could here what they were saying…wondering out loud if I'd be a vegetable. Angry because I thought Hutch had let me down – and angry because…"
"You thought Hutch let you down. How; do you think he should have seen the gunmen? Was there any reason to suspect that someone was going to try to kill you?"
"No…no reason. I guess part of me thought that we should always be alert and ready; but I guess I also knew that isn't possible. Part of me thought that after we fought over Kira he wasn't as alert – not just to me but to everything. He let something go. Don't ask me what because I don't know, OK?"
"You are angry with Hutch because of Kira and because you think that he should have been able to stop them shooting you; have I got that right?"
Starsky propped himself up on an elbow. "Put that past me again."
"You know what I said Starsky."
"Just testing, to see if you could." He chuckled. "Yes I guess that is part of it; but I'm angry with me too."
"Why?"
"Because I can't believe that I could think that about him. I mean if that's what I think, does it mean I don't trust him any more?"
"Do you?"
"I don't think I trust anyone anymore – not even me. And that makes me scared; which makes me angry and then I get to thinking about why I'm angry and 'here we go round the merry-go-round'. Stop the world I want to get off!"

"You said yesterday that you trust me. You trust me to help you get out of this mess – those were your words. Do you think you can trust me enough to help you?"
"Yes."
Friedman stood up. "Come with me – we can't do this here."
Starsky eased himself up from the couch and grinned "just when I was getting comfortable." He followed Friedman into the next room. The room was arranged for a group therapy session; there was a circle of chairs in the center. Friedman led Starsky to the center of the room and took a thin strip of cloth from his pocket. Starsky looked at him warily; "I'm not crazy about being blindfold doc." He sighed. "But I guess if you think it will help." He turned his back and allowed Friedman to tie the blindfold round his eyes. "Not too tight?" "Just fine thanks."
Friedman took Starsky by the shoulders and turned him around three or four times. Starsky swayed slightly. "Uh doc." "Yes" "I'm still facing the same way." Friedman tried to stifle his laugh; he had turned Starsky four times and yes, he'd taken him back to exactly the same position. He corrected his error and led Starsky a few steps at the same time to disorient him a little more. Silently he stepped outside the circle of chairs.
"Alright David. In this exercise you have to trust me to steer you to safety. I am standing on the outside of the circle of chairs and you are on the inside. If you follow my instructions you won't knock into a chair or hurt yourself. If you don't…you could fall and maybe hurt yourself."
"I played games like this when I was a kid….the prize was a pretty girl, not a shrink!"
"Take two steps forward." Starsky obeyed. "Now, two to your left." Again Starsky obeyed. He continued to follow Friedman's instructions until he felt something hard against his leg.
"You led me to a chair, right?"
"Do you trust me to get you out of the circle safely?"
"Yes."
Friedman gave Starsky the instructions he needed to arrive at his side. He touched Starsky's shoulder. "You can take the blindfold off now."
"What does that prove?"
"Tell me."
"I guess it proves I trusted you even when I thought you were going to make me fall over a chair."
"It also proves that you trusted yourself to follow my instructions."
Starsky sat on the nearest chair. "But where does it get me?"
"I takes you one step closer to learning to trust Hutch again."
"Why do I get the feeling you are going to set us up?"
"Only if you feel ready to see him again. He's had a tough time not being allowed to visit you."
"I thought he didn't want to visit me!"
"No; I had to ask him to stay away as long as you became distressed by his presence. Now I think you are ready to see him again."
"Tomorrow."
"It's a date."

Starsky looked out of the window. "I think I'll take a walk around the park. Don't worry, I promise not to go near the lake."
Freidman slid the door and Starsky walked out into the warm air. He walked for a while and Friedman saw him break into a trot as he rounded the edge of the rose beds.

Hutch was picking out a tune on his guitar. Christine was in San Diego covering a UFO story. The shrill ringing of the 'phone cut into his thoughts. He put down the guitar reluctantly and went to answer it. It was Friedman.
"Starsky is ready to see you. Can you be here tomorrow evening?"
Can I be there? What's wrong with right now?
"Why not today?"
Friedman explained that they had already worked enough for one day and that Starsky was unwinding. Tomorrow would be soon enough.

Hutch was in Friedman's office at six the next evening. Friedman explained some of what had happened in the past few days. "I don't usually keep the tapes of sessions once I've transcribed them – but I though you should hear this. Hutch listened to Starsky's voice as he spoke of the time when he was in the hospital after the shooting. He tried not to show his shame when his friend spoke of betrayal.
The tape ended and Hutch ran a hand over his face. "Can I see him now?"
Friedman opened the sliding window; "he's waiting for you in the rose garden."

Hutch stepped out through the window and marveled at the heavy scent of roses that filled the air. He was accustomed to ornamental rose beds in parks – full of showy flowers but no perfume. He took the path leading to a bench facing a small fish pond. Starsky was sitting straight backed and still; Hutch walked over to the bench.

"Old friends, sat in the park bench like bookends ..."

They seemed to sit in silence for hours. Hutch was beginning to feel the chill in the evening air as the sun disappeared over the horizon taking its heat out across the ocean.
He had his plaid jacket, but Starsky was only wearing jeans and a T-shirt
He touched his partner's arm gently.
"Hey buddy; feeling warm enough?"
Starsky remained silent for a moment and then turned to look at Hutch. For the first time since longer than he cared to remember Hutch realized that Starsky was looking straight into his eyes. His gaze was as intense as it used to be and Hutch could swear that the blue was even deeper.
"Help me get out of this, please."
"I'll do my best - but you have to help yourself too."
Hutch still had his eyes fixed on his friend's face. Starsky seemed to be thinking about what Hutch had just said; he smiled and reached out to touch Hutch's arm.
"Friedman played me the tapes."
"Tapes; I've never been to the White House!"
"Very funny."
"Glad you like it."
"Starsk…can we talk about it…really talk about it?"
"You want to go first or shall I?"
"I'm sorry."
Starsky shrugged his shoulders.
"Listen to me. I didn't realize at first. I knew you were hurt about Kira; I didn't think…I just let her lead me on. She said that you weren't really serious about her; I believed her. I'm sorry because I hurt you. I wanted to explain but you were so mad and you drove off before I had the chance to …"
"…zip up your pants. I noticed when I rammed you."
"Oh Starsk."
"Go on; I want to hear the rest of this."
"I ran out of the house in time to see your car disappear round the corner. I figured I should let you cool off a little; but I was worried that you were driving a little crazy – I called in that all units should keep an eye out for you."
Starsky laughed softly. "I went home and took the bike. I went up into the hills – you know up round Mulholland. I must have ridden for about an hour; then I reckoned that either you would come running with a lame excuse or I'd have to wait until we were at work the next day."
"I was almost scared of facing you the next day. I know you well enough to have been sure that you would have calmed down – but I was expecting another explosion. When you came up with that idea to call her bluff…."
Starsky grinned. "The look on her face when we left her in The Pits was priceless."
"I thought it was all over. That we'd made up and that was the end of it."
"So did I, Hutch…so did I."

"So what happened Starsky…what broke down?"
"I did! My mind snapped. I guess after all the things I've been through in my life it was likely to happen sooner or later. You know what I read in a magazine?"
Hutch was ready for this. Starsky had a capacity to believe any crap he read in the tabloids at the check out in a supermarket.
"I know what you're thinking…but it was a magazine in Friedman's office – serious psychological stuff. It said that each of us will know at least one person in our lives who needs some kind of psychiatric help – from being locked away in Cabrillo State to a little gentle therapy. I guess I'm that person in your life."
"Oh come on Starsk…Friedman calls it 'post-traumatic shock'; you haven't flipped…"
"No I know. My mind just ran for cover that's all."
"Because I broke the link?"
"The last straw…the drop that makes the cup overflow etc. etc. etc. Maybe. Or perhaps it was being shot yet again; or nearly dying or….shit Hutch I don't know. All I know is that I focused it all on you; instead of running to you for help I blocked you out and blamed you. I told myself I was mad at you; but I was really mad at myself for thinking this kind of thing."
"You really thought you couldn't trust me?"
"I'll take it slowly 'cos it confuses me too, OK. I got to thinking that I couldn't trust you…no, that I didn't know if I could trust you. And that made me feel bad because you are my best friend and I needed your friendship and support to get through all this, but I didn't know how to tell you. If I told you I didn't know if I could trust you it would be like saying that I didn't trust you…and I was scared of how you would react to that. Because if I told you that I wasn't sure that I could trust you…you might have gotten mad with me and not been there for me…and I was scared of that too. So I shut you out instead and got mad at myself and wanted to trust you but I wasn't sure if I could.
Aw shit…do you have any idea what I'm talking about?"
Hutch's head was spinning. "I feel like you just took me into the middle of a maze and left me there!"
"Now you know how I felt."
Starsky put his head on Hutch's shoulder. "I need you to be there for me until I'm really sure I can handle it out there."
Hutch put an arm around his partner's shoulders. "I'm here all the time it takes buddy."
The air was cooling and Starsky shivered. Hutch stood up and helped Starsky to his feet. "Come on, let's go find ourselves a couple of nurses to warm ourselves on."

They sat in Starsky's room and talked long into the evening. They talked about all the rough times that they had been through together – and some of the fun too.
Hutch knew he had to say it. "Starsky; Friedman showed me the list…you didn't put my name; but you wrote 'me and thee' and crossed out…"
"…and thee. I thought you had betrayed me and I didn't…oh shit don't let's start that one again. I thought I couldn't trust you anymore…and I was wrong."
"I know. Starsky I did betray you…and you know what hurts me the most about that? Friedman asked me if you had ever betrayed me."
"And what did you tell him?"
"The truth; that you have never betrayed me; not even when I was strung out. You never let me down."
"It doesn't matter."
"What?"
"I said it doesn't matter. It's over…water under the bridge. You did something that hurt me…something I don't think I could do to you. But it's OK now. I've come to terms with it. I guess I've forgiven you …and forgiven myself for getting so uptight about it too. Talking about it with you helped; talking about Friedman helped a lot too. It's over."

"What happens next?"
"What do you mean?"
"When do you get out of here?"
"When Friedman thinks I'm ready I guess. I still need to talk a few things through with him."
Hutch could understand this. "Oh I forgot; I brought you a present – I left it in the car. I'll be right back."
He returned and held out a perfectly gift-wrapped package. I got this for you a while back, but Friedman wouldn't let me see you.
Starsky sat cross-legged on the bed and carefully untied the ribbon. He pulled open the paper and looked at the box inside.
"Well open it." Hutch said impatiently. Starsky lifted the lid and Hutch was delighted to see the familiar lop-sided grin spread across his face as he saw the puzzle pieces in the box.
"Where did you get this?"
"I had it made. It's a long story…I'll tell you all about it another time – you might not be ready for all the story yet."
Starsky was already sorting out the straight edged pieces. Hutch left him happily piecing together a picture of his beloved car – needless to say he didn't need a photo to guide him.
"Hey, Hutch. Next time you come bring the real thing. I want to go home."

Friedman was satisfied with Starsky's recovery; but he put a condition on his release from the clinic. "I think you need to take a real break David. Go on vacation or go and visit with your mother; but don't stay at home brooding. I can't clear you psychologically to the Medical Board until I am sure that you are really over this. I'll give you an appointment to see me in three months…"
"…three months! That means I'll have been off work for almost a year. Doc, that puts my career in the toilet."
"No it doesn't – but a relapse on duty would. Three months…. You need it David; believe me you need it more than you realize."
Starsky knew he couldn't fight it – and his old instinct of butting against authority seemed to have deserted him anyhow. "OK; maybe I'll take mom on a trip somewhere. It would be good for both of us."
Friedman smiled at him. "I think your chauffeur is waiting outside."
Starsky grinned and stood up to shake Friedman's hand. "Thank you. You pulled me out of the deepest pit I've ever been in. I don't know if I'm going to need help in the future; but I know where to come…unless I go to Rabbi Stern that is."
"You could do worse."
"I know. I'll make my momma happy and be a good boy and maybe even find a nice Jewish lady doctor to marry; maybe not a shrink though, no offence meant."
"None" taken, David. I believe Rabbi Stern has a younger sister who works at Memorial."
"Aw shit you double as a Yenta already." Starsky did a perfect imitation of his mother in full flow; Friedman recognized it and laughed.
"Get out of here David, before I decide that you are mad."
Starsky started whistling as he left the room; Friedman listened and smiled as he recognized the song from Fiddler on The Roof. "Matchmaker, Matchmaker make me a match. Find me a find; catch me a catch…."

Hutch was leaning against the Torino. He was dangling the keys from the end of his finger as Starsky approached.
"Your limo awaits, sir!" He opened the door and bowed low as Starsky slid in behind the wheel. He sat with his hands on the wheel like a little boy who had been allowed to sit in a car in a show-room. Hutch sat beside him and handed him the keys. "Works better this way."
Starsky turned the ignition and revved the engine a few times; the Torino's growl echoed around the quiet grounds of the clinic. He flipped it into gear and floored the gas with perfect timing causing the tires to screech as the car flew forward.

"Hey Hutch."
"Yes?"
"It's good to be back."

Somehow Dobey managed to arrange for Starsky to be given paid medical leave until Friedman cleared him to go before a Medical Board again. Starsky arranged to take his mom on a cruise down to Mexico. When he returned he muttered something about maybe taking a trip to Israel with her. "But I need a few weeks recovery period first – two weeks on a cruise ship with my mom…"

He exercised diligently. Hutch dropped by one day and caught Starsky just as he was about to go out. Starsky was dressed in his cut-offs and a T-shirt and Hutch noted the excellent running shoes. "Caught me in the act." Starsky grinned. "You didn't really think I keep fit by eating candy bars and chasing bad guys did you?"
Hutch was wearing trainers and a jogging suit; Starsky looked him up and down. "Wanna join me; I was thinking of doing my short circuit today; think you can keep up with me?"
"What's the 'short circuit'?"
"Five miles."
"Starsky I jog five miles easily."
"I know you do…but I run them."
He was out of the door and skipping down the steps before Hutch could answer. It took Hutch two blocks to catch up with him.

Puffing and holding his side Hutch came to a halt at the bottom of Starsky's steps. Starsky was sitting watching him. "So much for Mr. Health Nut!" he teased. "Come on I'll make you coffee."

Hutch waited while Starsky showered and came back into the kitchen clad in a towel and little else.
"I really came to bring you something. I though you'd like it for when you need to take your mind off things."
Starsky spooned coffee into the filter and looked at his friend carefully.
"You think I will need to take my mind off things?"
"Yes; just like you always have. I thought of your sailing ship; and when I had the puzzle made I asked Merle to find me this." He handed Starsky a long cardboard tube.
Starsky took the cap of the end of the tube and peered into it. "I see no ships!" he muttered.
"Take out what's inside."
Starsky put a finger into the tube and felt a roll of paper; he slid it out and went over to the sofa to spread it on the table in front of him.
"WOW!"
"I didn't know where to get the materials – I figured that's part of the fun for you anyway – going to the model shop and buying everything you need." Hutch smiled as he spoke. Starsky seemed so happy and he wanted the moment to last.
"I'll go get dressed and then we'll go buy everything so I can start on it. Thanks Hutch. If I ever doubted that you loved me – I guess this is the proof that I was wrong." He stood up and planted a kiss firmly on his friend's cheek. "Don't get excited Blondie; that's all you get. Mom would never forgive me for marrying a shiksa!"

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