Summary: Hutch feeling guilty after SR, with some memories of other episodes and some normal-life. I know SR's been done before, but I just had to add my own thoughts too.

Disclaimer: I don't own S&H

What if...? Starsky had been in one of his confusing-conversation moods one morning, and he'd wondered what could have happened if certain things had been different. What if my parents had never met, or if my name had been Anderson instead of Hutchinson, he'd asked me. But I got some better questions. What if he'd parked the Torino the other way round? What if he'd got the door open quicker? What if I'd won the ping pong game? What if it'd been my car? What if I'd seen the gunman sooner, warned him sooner? What if he'd got down like I said instead of trying to reach for his gun? There were any number of those questions I could ask, and I'd drive myself mad thinking that way.

***

He'd tried to shout my name when he went down, but the first part was all that made it out of his mouth. I'll never get that out of my head. I was firing after the guys in the cop car, and there was no answering fire from Starsky. I shouted his name and heard nothing in response, so I knew something was terribly wrong. When I ran round the car and saw him, I thought he was gone. And all the bullet holes in the side of his beloved car.I couldn't move, even as other people started running up to see what had happened.

Back in the early days of our working together as detectives at BCPD, there'd been a hit out on him, and when the other red Torino was towed in with all the bullet holes in the window, I couldn't help but wonder, what if it had been him? But I didn't say anything like that to Starsky.

***

I remember sitting on that chair outside the window of his hospital room, staring at him, and being so sure he wasn't going to make it. Every time before when he'd been in danger, I'd been able to do something, and I'd never really believed he was going to die. This time there was not a thing I could do. It was as though we were waiting for him to die. When I first went into his room I was scared to even touch him in case I did more damage. I think that's why later I went off to find out who was responsible instead of staying with him; because I had to feel that I was doing something, and helping, like I had done at other times. But what if he'd died while I wasn't there? The sound of the ping-pong ball kept echoing in my head like a heartbeat. Starsky had been there with me just that morning, yet it felt like a lifetime ago.

When he'd been shot in that Italian restaurant I could still make a plan to get the better of the bad guys, and I could still help him. I remember his hand reaching for mine, but I was too busy worrying about him and the other innocent people to take it.

***

When I called the hospital to see how he was doing, I'd had the strangest feeling that something was wrong, and that I had to call. Maybe it wasn't so strange. When Dobey told me to get down there, I dropped the receiver in a second and ran. I found out that they'd been about to give up on him, but Starsky came back just as I burst in.

What if I'd been too late? What if I'd lost him forever?

When those old people had that bomb in the back of their car, Starsky was the one that drove the car away, to somewhere where nobody would get hurt. I trusted in his driving ability completely, although I'd never have told him that, and didn't doubt that he'd get out of it alive, but now I wish I'd shown a bit more feeling when he came back alright, because I really was glad he wasn't hurt.

***

I wonder though, if all this would have happened if the prize of our latest bet had been different? Starsk loves his food, and he was taking his time getting into the car because he was busy thinking of what ridiculously expensive dinner he could get me to buy him. We should have bet on something else.

A couple of months ago, he was sat across from me at the dinner table, giving me that big grin everyone loves so much.

"What are you so happy for?" I grumbled - I seemed to have been doing that a lot lately.

"Well, it might have been a not-so-good day... but this is a good night." Starsky lifted his glass. "You're my pal, Hutch."

Then, as now, memories came to me, triggered by that simple statement, and much of the bad mood I had been feeling evaporated. "Starsk...I love ya too, man."

***

As well as food, Starsky loves his clothes. I couldn't forget that leather jacket with the holes through it.

"Hold these as well Hutch."

We had gone clothes shopping together, just a couple of weeks ago, at Starsky's insistence, with our friendship better than ever after the long talks we had had after the 'Kira incident'.

I took the next pair of jeans Starsky threw towards me, and followed my animated partner through the store.

I patiently waited, my arms full of clothes, as Starsky disappeared into a changing cubicle. After nearly 10 minutes of listening to struggling and cursing, I cautiously stuck my head through the curtain to see what was taking my partner so long, only to find Starsky fighting a losing battle with a pair of tight jeans.

Just at that moment, Starsky lost his balance, nearly falling out through the curtain and saved only by the fact that he landed against me. We stood looking at each other for a second, and then we both dissolved into helpless giggles.

"Starsk, you better finish getting dressed. What if someone comes to see what's going on here?" I managed to say through the laughter.

Too late, as a salesman did come to investigate. "Everything okay in here sirs?" he asked, seeming not to notice the strange scene in front of him.

"Yeah, fine. Sorry about my partner here – he's not exactly a jean-ius." The terrible pun set us both off laughing again, and the salesman disappeared, looking confused.

Eventually I was able to speak again. "C'mon, Starsk, pick some clothes and let's get out of here."

He gave me that big grin again. "Ok, ok, I'm doing it."

We had to wait another 10 minutes as Starsky figured out how to get out of the jeans he was trapped in, but eventually he made it. "You know, Hutch," he said as we left the store, "I knew you'd come in useful if I brought you. What if I'd landed on my face?"

"I wouldn't have let you – what are partners for?"

***

So when I snuck into his hospital room late one night, I was a little drunk. I was so happy that my pal was going to make it, that I started celebrating a little early. It was worth getting soaked afterwards, just to have those few minutes where I could be so close to my best friend and everything seemed almost normal. I did continue to wonder, though, if the whole thing could have been prevented, and I was sure I could have done something differently to stop it.

Starsky shook his head in amusement at the methodical almost-list he'd just read, even as his eyes filled with tears. The last line was blurred, as if moisture had dropped onto it, and he thought of Hutch. He'd found this little book stuffed down the side of the couch in Hutch's apartment, and out of curiosity opened it up and begun reading. He'd been out of the hospital for a week, and was staying with Hutch for the time being.

Hutch had mentioned some times when maybe he hadn't been as nice as he could have been. But Starsky could remember times when he himself hadn't exactly been nice, and lots of times when Hutch had.

"Starsky? What are you doing with that? That's mine, you shouldn't be looking at it."

Starsky slammed the book shut guiltily and looked up to see Hutch standing in the doorway – but the blond man didn't look angry, he looked...sorry.

"I'm sorry, I just opened it up to see what it was and once I started reading... well, I couldn't stop. Sorry, Hutch."

Starsky sounded like a guilty little boy, caught doing something he shouldn't be.

Hutch could never be angry with his partner for long, but he could definitely be angry at himself.

"But Hutch", Starsk continued, "you're my best friend, but what you've written in here, you make it sound like you've done nothing for me. I think you're forgetting some things." He was starting to feel annoyed, Hutch could feel guilty about anything, and in this case there was no reason for it in his opinion.

"Yeah?" Hutch couldn't meet Starsky's eyes. "Well it seems to me that it's pretty accurate partner. There's a lot of things I didn't do, that now I wish I did do..."

"Hutch. Hey. Plenty of times you've been there to look out for me, and you know it."

Hutch calmed a little, and listened more closely. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Remember when you pulled my arm outta that vending machine I was stuck in?" Starsky asked with a perfectly straight face but a twinkle in his eye.

Hutch snorted with laughter in spite of himself. "Buddy, that's not really what I had in mind."

"Yeah" said Starsky softly. "But seriously, I haven't always been that nice to you either, but you've always been there. When Bellamy poisoned me, you were there, and you didn't hang up when I called you – I thought you might. When I drank all that moonshine, you let me sleep on your arm. And you got me all the coffee. Yeah, you nearly ran me over with the bike, but that wasn't your fault really." Starsky smirked, then continued. "When I was in the coma after the shooting, I knew you were there. I heard you talking to me. And you're here now, aren't you?"

Hutch nodded uncertainly, and Starsky tried one more time to make his point.

"Babe, I'd sell my Torino for you. And I'm sure you'd sell that tin can you call a car for me."

Hutch had to smile at that; Starsky always seemed to know what to say to make things better. One thing was still bothering him though. "Starsk, what if you hadn't been here? I might never have got to tell you..."

"I know. But I am here."

"You nearly weren't. Can you forgive me?"

"Nothin' to forgive babe," said Starsky, gesturing for his friend to come nearer. "Me and Thee, remember?"