Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just play with them.
Feedback: Yes, please.
My Best Friend
I hardly noticed that Starsky's shoulder was hurting, the one that took a bullet in that restaurant. He said it happens every few years after bowling, but I know that's just a line so I won't worry.
I didn't cover him in the alley.
I hit him after he told me Gillian worked for Grossman. I hit him and sent him tumbling to the floor. He told me I was his best friend in the whole world, then held me as I cried.
He took out the projector with one shot so I wouldn't have to see Gillian in that...movie.
We got Grossman. Starsky took care of the report. He took care of everything. Now he's taking care of me. He doesn't know how I feel. He doesn't pretend to. He's just trying to pick up the pieces. He's in the kitchen, his brow furrowed as he fixes a batch of "butterfly bones" for me. I don't deserve him as a friend, but I thank God he IS my friend.
I pray he never feels grief like I'm feeling right now. But if he does, I'll be there to pick up the pieces. After all, he's my best friend.