Playing God

Starsky slowed the Torino to a halt on the opposite side of the cemetery, away from the cars of the mourners. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, his hands twisting on the steering wheel. He was tense and the evasive dance he just had with his partner in order to be here alone had made him even tenser. Letting out another breath, Starsky slowly got out of the car, shut the door quietly and walked toward the grave, stopping just far enough away as to not be noticed.

He could hear the drone of the priest's voice but could not make out the words. His eyes surveyed the mourners, stopping on an older woman. Dressed all in black including a pill box hat with a half veil, she dabbed at her nose with a lace handkerchief. Starsky was glad her eyes were hidden. He didn't want to see the pain in those eyes. The pain of a mother who lost her son in a violent and ugly way.

Next to the mother was a young woman, most likely a sister to the decedent. Decedent. It was a cold and clinical term one would find in a police report or medical examiner's files. A word used in place of the man's name, Raymond Lee…the man whose life was ended by Starsky's own hand.

Starsky saw everyone bow their heads and he took a step back as the prayer began. He turned away and flinched as he looked into a somewhat familiar face.

"What are you doing here?" The man asked. Even the voice sounded similar.

"I…I'm sorry," Starsky began, not sure how he would explain his presence to the brother of the man he'd killed in self-defense not five days earlier. "I shouldn't have come. I don't want to disturb your family at a time like this." Starsky stepped around the man and headed toward his car.

Turning, the man asked again, "But what are you doing here?"

Starsky stopped, keeping his back toward the brother and looked down at the dry brown grass at his feet. It was a legitimate question but he wasn't sure himself why he did this, why he came to see the people buried that he had taken off this earth. Slowly turning, he looked up to face the angry eyes. But instead of anger or pain, Starsky saw something else. What he did see, he wasn't sure.

"I shouldn't be here, I know. But…" his eyes sunk down toward the ground again.

"Don't blame yourself."

Starsky looked up, surprised. He saw the brown eyes across from him soften. "Excuse me?"

The man took a step toward him. "I know who you are."

Starsky felt his face flush with shame that he knew he shouldn't be feeling. His partner, his captain, the department shrink and even his own common sense told him he shouldn't feel shame. But he felt it all the same. "I'm sorry." This time it wasn't 'I'm sorry for intruding.' This time it was 'I'm sorry I took your brother's life.'

"Ray was a nasty, horrible person, Sergeant Starsky. I read the paper; I spoke to your police captain." Starsky's eyes widened at that news. "He hurt too many people and he would have killed you in cold blood if you didn't take him out first."

Starsky was taken aback by the coldness of this man talking about his own flesh and blood.

"How are you?"

Starsky took in a sharp breath. He never expected that question. He reached up and fingered the bandage on his cheek where the fragments of fence had lodged after being splintered off from the bullet Lee had fired at him. He remembered Hutch's face when he realized just how close he came to losing his partner. Starsky's stomach lurched. "I'm fine. Just a scratch." Starsky heard the sound of the Galaxie 500's motor coming up behind him as if the thought of Hutch conjured him into reality. Shit, he's onto me. The thought flicked through Starsky's mind before refocusing on the man in front of him.

Lee's brother took another step closer, his eyes softening even more. "No, I mean how are you?"

Starsky's attention was split between trying to figure out how to answer the question and the footsteps slowly approaching, coming to a stop not too close behind him. Good ol' Hutch. Keeping an eye out but not intruding. "I…I'll be okay. Thank you." Starsky's mind reeled at the absurdity of this encounter and he almost laughed outright when Lee extended his hand toward him.

"I'm Brian."

Starsky reached out and took the man's hand and shook it. "Dave," he said simply, then, "and that guy behind me is my partner, Ken Hutchinson." Brian looked over Starsky's shoulder and nodded.

"I should get back. I just wanted to let you know…" the statement went unfinished but was not unappreciated by the dark-haired police detective.

"Thank you." Starsky's voice was strained but he smiled warmly.

Brian Lee turned to rejoin his family as the graveside service came to a close. Starsky watched as he went to his mother's side and put a supportive arm around her, turning her toward the waiting limo.

"You okay?" Hutch's concerned voice came from behind him.

Starsky smiled slightly but it faded quickly. He turned around to face his best friend. "How'd you know?"

"Come on, Starsk. I know."

And he did know, Starsky thought. His partner knew no matter how logical and by-the-book and needed these things were, Starsky couldn't help but feel he had once again played god.

"If it wasn't him, it would have been you," Hutch repeated a phrase they'd both said to each other countless times.

"Yeah," Starsky answered.

Hutch squinted into the sun as he surveyed his friend's face. "Doesn't make it any easier."

"No."

The End