Sweet Emotion

by Startisparticus2017

"Seein' we're partners they concern ya, kinda like Marshal Dillon and Chester or Roy Rogers and Trigger." This is not a death fiction, but does contain sensitive emotional matters. I want to thank Maryellen and Sandy for their continued support and beta reading. **Story is complete**

Sweet Emotion

Written by Startisparticus2017

September 11, 2016 - Beta Read November 2018

For entertainment purposes only. I do not own the characters. I do not receive compensation.

Chapter 1

The blond casually slumped in the driver's seat. On a stakeout they sat in Hutch's heap, endearingly nicknamed by his partner. Starsky leaned forward in the passenger seat with his head bowed. His right hand and fingers tips lightly caressed his forehead. They were parked near a jewelry store in a direction to cover both the front and back.

Hutch glanced over at his partner. "These stakeouts stink!" The irritation radiated in his words. He sighed and hesitantly continued his sideway glare at the nonresponsive quiet counterpart. "You know something Starsk, night three on this stakeout and nothing, NOTHING! The kicker is Perry and Lanowitz may have blown our cover during their early morning stakeout." He paused and received no reaction from the figure next to him. A sudden surge of irritation formed within. "No bad guys and silence from you. What's eating you?" His voice raised and trickled with exasperation.

Starsky took a deep breath and leaned back into the car seat and headrest and closed his eyes temporarily. The leather crackled with his movements. "Yeah, well, you're always complainin' I talk too much, Hutch." The brunet responded with a trace of a dark, brooding mood.

Hutch was caught off guard and annoyed by Starsky's comment. The steely ice blue eyes glared from the driver's side and squinted in disbelief. "What? Oh come on, Starsky!" Hutch repositioned himself in the seat.

Starsky opened his eyes and looked in the direction of the jewelry store. "I'm sorry. I didn't get much sleep last night." He continued to look at the store; his voice was low and weak. A slight edge of exhaustion spilled into the words.

Hutch was confused; he didn't know how to respond. The man he called his partner and usually a bundle of energy was not himself and hadn't been for the past week. Hutch sat up straight, his gut was littered with anxiety. "Listen, Buddy. You've been Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. That's usually my role!"

Starsky grabbed the handle of the car and opened the door vigorously. Hutch briskly grabbed his arm. "Starsky! What the hell are you doing?" The blond questioned with raw emotion.

A flicker of light came from within the store. The blond caught a glimpse of it; Starsky exited the car and removed his gun from his holster. He looked at the store and back to Hutch, who was exiting the vehicle. The brunet's eyes pierced toward the stunned driver, he removed the safety and cocked his handgun. "I'm doin' my job, partner; I'll take the back. Okay?" He raised his eyebrows, smirked, and nodded.

Hutch paused briefly, his mind raced with unanswered questions. He acknowledged by returning the nod. What the hell was going on with his partner? Without further hesitation he reached in and called in for backup, then followed. Starsky sprinted toward the rear of the building; he placed his hand against the wall. Dizziness overtook him. He leaned against the building. His head pounded. Hutch stood near the front window of the building and leaned his back against the wall. Cautiously he turned and peaked in through the window and saw two men inside with flashlights. He slid to the edge of the building to signal his partner. Hutch held up two fingers. The brunet blinked several time, he raised his hand to indicate he understood even though he was having difficulty seeing. Starsky went around the corner of the building to find the back door open and damaged. He approached the door slowly and scanned the area and peaked inside the building. He crouched forward with his feet apart and looked both ways. He entered and hollered. "Freeze, Police!" His gun perched before him with both hands grasped. He pointed right to left.

The two men dashed from a nook area where a large gray safe sat. Two shots were fired toward the brunet. Starsky dove behind a jewelry case and fired a shot hitting one of the men. The taller black masked man fell to the floor. The bullet proved to be fatal. The other assailant dashed toward the front door, unlocked it to escape, and encountered the tall blond partner. Hutch grabbed him as he stepped through the door, pressing his colt against the man's side. "Police! Drop your weapon!"

The assailant's gun dropped to the ground. Hutch spun him around and pinned his masked face against the glass and hand cuffed the man. He removed the wool mask from the man's face to expose Pike Donovan. His eyes were wide and panicked. "Your partner shot, Babbit! He murdered him in cold blood, Hutchinson." Hutch pushed the man to the side and looked inside the store where a man laid motionless on his stomach. There was no sign of the cranky individual that looked like his partner. Hutch escorted the man inside the store. "I suppose the two of you were here for tea and cookies too." He growled sarcastically. Starsky?" His voice loud with a presence of urgency.

Pushing the man, he scoped the surroundings of glass encasings that would normally house jewelry. The handcuffed man halted startled by the body. "Move it, Donovan!" Hutch shouted.

Starsky sat on the floor where he had landed. His arms folded and draped over his bent knees in front of him. His forehead pressed against his forearm. His weapon dangled from his shaking hand and fell to the floor. He lost all sensation in his extremities. Desperate, he wiggled his fingers and formed a fist to regain feeling. Hutch shuffled the man in towards the back of the store and made his way to the opened back door. The sound of the fallen gun alerted him. He shoved the man against the wall and noticed his partner sitting behind the glass case on the floor. "Starsk, you okay?"

Starsky took a deep breath and gathered himself and rose to his feet, although unsteady, he managed to lean against the glass display case. He bent down and grasped his gun awkwardly with his right hand. Hutch finally exhaled not realizing he stopped breathing out of pure fear. Starsky attempted to put his gun in his holster. He missed it twice and walked out, but didn't look at Hutch. Somewhat preoccupied the lack of coordination on his partner's behalf didn't go unnoticed to the blond detective. The sound of sirens, and backup had arrived. Hutch watched his partner walk away as he handed the burglar off to two approaching uniformed officers. "This is Pike Donovan. Read him his rights." Hutch picked up his gate and followed his partner. "There's another inside, last name Babbit. Call a coroner!" The blond hollered to another approaching officer.

Starsky sat in the passenger seat, with his head down. He took a deep breath and widened his eyes. Hutch walked over to the passenger side and leaned putting his hands on the top of the car. Hutch took a deep breath. "Well, we got them. Why didn't you answer me? I thought you were shot! " Hutch bowed his head; the emotions behind the words strangled his high pitched shouting voice.

Starsky shifted himself and sat upright. He cleared his throat. "I'm okay! I'm not a rookie, partner! Let's go, we got a report to file." His response was abrupt. He glanced at his watch. His shoulders were rigid. He pressed his lips together.

Hutch pushed himself away from the car in a huff. "Why don't you tell me something I don't know already? Maybe you can clue me in on what the hell crawled up your butt." He raised his hands in exasperated with his partner's response. The dejected blond walked over and climbed into his car, and slammed the door. He grabbed the microphone. "This is Zebra three suspects apprehended and scene secured."

The trip to the department remained silent and tense. Hutch sat at his desk and typed his part of the report. Starsky completed his report. He signed it and handed it to his partner. The dark curly-headed detective grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and headed for the exit.

Captain Dobey's office door swung open abruptly. The stout brown suited man called out to his two-star detectives. "Good job, gentlemen." Captain Dobey quantitively looked at Hutch and over at Starsky heading for the door. "Starsky where the hell do you think you're going?"

Starsky stopped and placed his hand on the door. He felt a sudden rush of dizziness. He turned away and blinked several times to refocus. "I'm out of here, Cap'n. My report is done."

Captain Dobey looked at Hutch who was still holding the report his partner just handed him in his hand, with a bewildered look on his face. He extended the paper to his Captain. "Report is done, Captain." The cranky large man ripped the report from his detective's hand. Starsky was gone; Hutch put his hands to his face wiping away cobwebs named 'frustration.'

Captain Dobey looked at Hutch, back at the door. "In my office, Hutchinson!"

Hutch sighed, stood, and followed his Captain into the office closing the door gently. The tall exasperated figure sat in the leather chair to the left. Captain Dobey pulled out a bottle of aspirin and placed it on the desk in front of Hutch.

"I'm all set, Captain!" He shifted in the leather chair leaned to the side and rubbed his temple as he slumped.

Dobey sighed and sat back. "I'm not offering you an aspirin, Hutch. This is what remains after your partner asked me for aspirin in the past week." He said urgently in a husky groan.

Hutch looked at the bottle and to his superior with a questioning and shocked gaze. The open mouth and wide eyes gave the Captain a clear message he was caught off guard. The Captain sat staring at the bottle and back up to Hutch. "What's going on with your partner?" The question was asked in concern.

Hutch stood, shook his head and began to pace. The tall blond stopped then leaned on the Captain's desk with both hands firmly pressed. He held the look of someone who had been blindsided. "Your guess is as good as mine!"

The Captain shrugged his shoulders and grunted. "Talk to him, or I will!"

Hutch looked at his Captain who seems to be authentically concerned. He started to pace again, rubbing his hands together. "Starsky's been like this for a week. He hasn't been himself since that heist at the bank."

Captain Dobey looked over at the calendar on the wall. "That was a little over a week ago." Concern painted the dark stern features. He looked at Hutch who was deep in thought. The pacing stopped, he sat back down with his hands combing through his hair.

Hutch reviewed the events of the heist through his mind. Starsky was involved in a tussle with Durango and two of his men. He recalled pinning one of the suspects and Starsky handcuffing the others. Starsky seemed himself, joked and poked fun like he always had done. He complained he was sore from the fight and complained his neck, and head hurt. The past week the blond recalled a few instances where his partner wasn't himself. His behavior exhibited shortness of temper, moody and at times disconnected.

"I'll talk to him in the morning, Captain." Hutch rose to his feet, rubbed the back of his neck and went to the door then exited. The blond wore a drawn expression as he entered the squad room area; he stopped at Starsky's desk and opened the middle drawer to find an empty bottle of aspirin. As he closed the drawer, he looked around the room awestruck. A mottled whisper escaped. "Time we had a talk, Starsk?" He grabbed his jacket from the chair and walked out.

Chapter 2

The next morning Starsky arrived at work early; a few files were scattered before him on the desk. A piece of paper was engaged in the typewriter. He looked exhausted and seemed far away in thought. The whispers and chatter from co-workers went unheard; a few other detectives sat at their desks and cautiously watched the figure presumed to be Detective David Starsky.

One of the older detectives, a burly man with a salt and pepper buzz cut, walked over, and tapped the wayward dark-haired figure on the shoulder. Starsky jumped and hollered. "Jeepers Starsky what's gotcha so skittish?"

Starsky forced a grin and turned away and continued to stare at the sheet of paper in the typewriter. "The site of your ugly face will do that to a man, Lanowitz. Now would ya kindly remove it from my sight?" The response bit the air with sarcasm laced with unease. The other's in the room laughed.

Hutch had walked in and witnessed the tail end of the startle. The tall blond put his jacket on the chair, looked at the form of casualty that looked like his partner and smiled. "Mornin!"

Starsky met his partner's tentative gaze and grinned, but not the Starsky 'light up the room' grin. Hutch went over and poured a cup of coffee and took a sip. He placed the cup of coffee on his partner's desk. "Looks like you could use this, partner." He walked around and pulled his chair out and sat.

Starsky smiled and sighed. "Thanks. I'm sorry 'bout…yesterday." He raised his eyes to meet his partner's. The authenticity of the apology emanated from the brunet's tired glossy eyes.

The older detective walked over to Hutch, tapped his arm using the back of his hand playfully. "Your partner here is as wired as a squirrel on an acorn hunt. He just about come out of his skin."

Hutch smirked but saw no reaction from the dazed man that sat across of him. Starsky appeared to be interrogating the paper in front of him with his eyes.

The older detective grabbed a stack of folders at the end of the table to the left of Hutch. He walked around the table and slammed the pile of folder onto the desk. Starsky jumped and squawked loudly. He bowed his head then closed his eyes in barely contained anger, but more so from the pain that radiated in his head. The room of detectives and staff laughed including Hutch.

Starsky catapulted to his feet, shoved his chair back, and grabbed his jacket. Blue dejected pools of rage scanned the room. "You can all go to hell!" The brunet barked then headed for the door losing his balance and slammed his shoulder into the second half of the double doors. It caused him to step back; he regained his balance and exited.

Hutch noted the tension in his partner's posture and witnessed the collision. He immediately stopped laughing. The room followed suit and went silent. Hutch sprung into action and ran toward the door and followed his partner. "Starsk, it was just a joke. Hey?" Hutch touched the caged lion that resembled his partner.

The response was met with hostility as he pulled away violently. Starsky was angry; he raised his left arm and pointed a trembling finger at the worried blond. "I'm always the butt of everyone's joke! It's wearin' thin. You're all laughin' behind my back." He growled.

Hutch looked at his partner's rigid aggressive stance. He was concerned; this is not a typical David Starsky reaction. His partner wasn't allowing him to touch him. The brunet's response and reaction uncharacteristic. He would usually have laughed or shrugged it off. Starsky felt the crushing pain from his head he turned and walked away. Bystanders watched with guilt-ridden faces and concerned glances. Hutch raced back into the squad room and grabbed his jacket. He rushed out the door to locate his estranged and unpredictable partner.

Starsky reached the car and removed his keys from his pocket when Simonetti approached from behind. Simonetti was a repulsive predator, not a Starsky and Hutch fan. The man, a fellow detective, made it his life's career to put the screws to the dynamic duo team. Hutch stood on the other side of the well-manicured candy apple red car as he watched Simonetti approach his volatile partner. The man was thin, dark-haired and reeked arrogance. He cocked his head and chewed his gum like a cow chewed cud. "I heard about the jewelry store takedown last night, Starsky." A statement that stung with the taste of a pending wisecrack. Starsky took a deep breath and turned slightly to catch a glimpse of him. Muscles corded as he continued to unlock the car door.

Simonetti moved in closer, like a wild dog in for the kill. "Seems there's always a casualty during your arrests, Starsky."

Starsky turned and glared at him, his eyes squinted no longer the vibrant blue orbs. "What's that suppose to mean?"

Simonetti smirked. He rubbed his chins. "A little sensitive, Starsky? That time of the month?"

Starsky opened the door to his car, placed his hand on the roofs edge, his face stern. "Only a bitch like you, Simonetti, would understand." Starsky turned to enter the car.

Simonetti looked at Hutch who was irritated with the sleazy detective's remarks. "Hutchinson, good thing he has you as a partner; someone has to carry the weight. The White Knight saves his trigger happy damsel in distress." The man lifted his heels arrogantly to make his point.

Starsky spun around and grabbed Simonetti by the shirt. The vision of two tightly gripped fists clasped and shoved him into the concrete wall of the BCPD garage.

Hutch ran around the car and cautiously touched Starsky's arm. He gently wrapped his fingers over his forearm. Hutch was surprised the brunet didn't pull away and looked at Simonetti. "If I were you, I'd quit while I was ahead. My partner here is short fused today. Come to think of it, so am I. My tolerance for sleazy, intolerable, egotistical, jerks has me a little cranky as well." He winked and smirked. "What I'm trying to say is he's not the one you need to worry about, Simonetti." The threat and sarcasm spilled through his words. The smirk disappeared and his jaw tightened. "Come on, Starsk!"

Starsky released his grip roughly. A note of mischievousness overtook as he delicately straightened Simonetti's tie. "There ya go…all nice and neat, Tinkerbelle. Have a nice day." His eyes engaged and jaw rigid he then turned and entered the car. Hutch glared wide eyed at Simonetti. He backed away slowly then walked to the passenger side; his partner started the car. Simonetti straightened his shirt and walked away.

Starsky sat lost in thought. Simonetti's voice echoed along with the constant drumming in his head. Hutch noticed his partner's trembling hands. He raised his eyes to scan his partner's sweat soaked blanched face. The pit of the blond's stomach spun with anxiety. His heart felt as though it would leap from his chest from concern. He gently placed a hand on Starsky's arm. "Starsk, your hands are shaking."

Starsky placed his hands on the steering wheel, then put the car in gear and accelerated, causing the tires to spin and smoke as they exited the garage area.

The drive was unsettlingly quiet; Hutch weighed his options and felt it was best to say nothing or change the subject. He glanced at Starsky occasionally and fidgeted a little which caused the leather seat to crackle. "Say, Christine is back tomorrow. What do you say we go bowling?"

Starsky focused ahead. "I'm gonna lay low."

Hutch casually looked at him, then back out the window.

Starsky sighed. "Thought she was due in on Thursday?"

Hutch looked back at him. "Yeah, that's tomorrow."

Starsky frowned, confusion settle on his face. "Today's Tuesday!"

Hutch raised his eyebrows. "Today is Wednesday, Gordo!" Hutch became more concerned. He ran his hand through his hair. "Starsk?"

"What?" Starsky still confused, answered abruptly.

Hutch just continued to glance at him. "You okay?"

Starsky seemed agitated by the question and snapped at his partner. "So I get the days messed up, come on, Hutch, back off will ya. Everyone's on my case."

Hutch raised his hands in the air in disbelief. "Have it your way, Peter Pan." He groaned sarcastically.

Starsky continued to glare forward. They arrive at Huggy's, exited the car, and walked in. Huggy sat on a stool at the bar with a glass in his hand; Hutch walked over and sat next to Huggy. Starsky leaned against the bar. Huggy looked at Starsky, then back at Hutch. "Well if it ain't tweedle dee and tweedle dumb. What will it be gentlemen, coffee or tea?"

Hutch smiled. "Nothing for me, thanks."

The thin black man looked over at Starsky, shook his head and peered at him with one eye squinted. "You in a better frame of mind, Curly?"

Glances were exchanged amongst the three men. Starsky pulled a chair near the bar and spun it around and straddled it. "What are you talking about?" He responded with a trace of puzzlement.

Huggy sat back and sighed. "Last night's outburst cost me a waitress."

Perplexed, Starsky looked at him as though he were crazy. His face cringed. "Last night?" He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah, last night you strolled in at closing pissed off at the world." Huggy's voice held frustration.

Starsky frowned. "You okay, Hug?" A bewildered and confused tone came from the brunet as he rubbed his stomach. "Listen, enough with the jokes and the head games. I'm hungry!" The dark-haired man jumped to his feet and went over to order a sandwich from one of the waitresses.

Hutch looked at the stunned barkeeper and quietly whispered. "This isn't a joke?"

Huggy rolled his eyes. "No! Is he playin me?"

Hutch cupped and rubbed his face, the uneasiness settling on his features. "No Hug, something is really off here."

"You're tellin' me." Huggy leaned forward. "Buzz on the street about the jewelry heist, there's a third man they call him Niemo, he wasn't at last night's heist." He glared at the clueless expression on the blond detective's face. "Didn't Curly tell you?" Huggy asked with an elevated voice.

"No, he didn't. Thanks." Hutch padded the barkeep's shoulder and rose to his feet and followed his partner as he exited with a brown paper bag.

Hutch stood outside the car and watched as his partner's hands tremble. The chili cheese burger he attempted to eat spilled onto his lap. Starsky grabbed the food and tossed it out the window. "Son-of-a- bitch!"

Hutch entered the car as his partner unraveled.

Starsky started the car and slammed it into gear. "Need to go home and change. Dammit!"

Chapter 3

At the apartment, Starsky excused himself and went into the bathroom. Hutch paced and snapped his fingers. He stopped abruptly then grabbed the phone and dialed, he looked back to make sure Starsky was still in the bathroom. "Captain Dobey, yeah." He pressed the palm of his hand over one eye and rubbed. "Captain have you read Starsky's report from last night yet?"

Captain Dobey grabbed the report from a folder; he scrutinized it. "Read yours! Hold on a second."

Hutch rubbed his face. He felt his heart racing. "I'm looking for anything unusual?" The blond was momentarily distracted with the sound of vomiting that came from the bathroom.

Captain Dobey's face frowned. "This is your partner's report, Hutch. Unusual in normal, remember?" He responded sarcastically. "He has Monday's date; his details don't match yours, Hutch! The time is off, and his signature's scribbled, can't even read it." The Captain shook his head and grunted. "Hutch, what the hell is going on?"

Hutch ran his hand through his hair. "I'll fill you in as soon as I know, by the way, there's a third suspect that wasn't in on the heist, a guy named Niemo. Thanks, Captain." Hutch held the receiver in his right hand for a moment, and then placed it in the cradle of the phone. He went to the kitchen cupboard and found an empty aspirin bottle. Hutch turned to see Starsky standing half dressed; he didn't look well. His face a sheen of ash and perspiration. The jacket and tennis shoes were missing. His shirt water stained.

"I'll be just a minute. Oh, my stomach." The unraveled figure stood before the blond as though he were a lost sick child. "Oh yeah, some guy Niemo didn't make the heist last night. I guess maybe I was at The Pits!" Starsky looked at the clock; back at Hutch, his expression was that of confusion.

Hutch made his way over to his partner, as though he were walking on egg shells with each step. "Starsk, why are you taking aspirin?"

Starsky grabbed a blue long sleeve shirt that hung on the door handle of the bathroom and put it on very slowly and sighed. "A headache, why else do you take aspirin?" Starsky replied with sarcasm. The brunet's fingers clumsily attempted to button his shirt. The buttons were mismatched. He blinked and rubbed his temple lightly with his right hand. "My heads poundin'!"

Hutch took a few steps closer and put his hand on his partner's stomach lightly. "Why don't you lay down for a bit?"

Starsky grinned, his vision blurred. He felt oddly off balance. A goofy grin formed. "From the look on your face, I must be a mess." The response was slurred.

Hutch grabbed his partner's arm gently to steady him. The tall blond wasted no time and escorted the unstable man to the bedroom and retreated. He picked up the phone and called the precinct. "Captain Dobey, yes, I'll hold." Hutch ran his hands through his hair and paced anxiously. "Captain can you check with O'Reilly and Lee? I need to know if Starsky may have been injured at the bank heist during the scuffle. Yeah, I'll wait." Hutch removed his jacket and tossed it over the back of the couch. He paced intensely as he waited.

"Hutch, O'Reilly reports that Starsky hit his head on a marble column, he was surprised he didn't get checked out." The Captain responded with concern.

Hutch closed his eyes, from his brief attendance in med school; he knew this wasn't a good thing. He let out a deep breath. "I'm at Starsky's. He's in bed. Captain, if my memory serves me from med school we might be dealing with a form of head trauma."

Captain Dobey sighed and rubbed his face. "Well, that explains the aspirin, get him to the ER. Keep me posted."

Hutch placed the handset on the cradle of the phone then took a deep breath. He went to Starsky's room. Starsky was lying on his back, his color pale and his breathing slightly labored. Hutch reached and touched his partner's arm, then kneeled beside the bed. "Hey Buddy, are you awake?" The question left the blond's lips softly.

Starsky opened his eyes and focused on Hutch's face. Hutch smiled faintly, his voice soft. "Starsk, listen, I think we need to get you to the hospital."

Starsky turned his head side to side and closed his eyes. "No hospitals, just a headache. Stomach bug or somethin'."

Hutch placed his right hand, allowing his fingers to squeeze his partner's arm very lightly. "Come on, Starsk?"

Starsky opened his eyes again. His vision was blurred. "Just a headache."

Hutch could feel his partner's body quivering and noticed Starsky was not able to focus. "Where did you hit your head? Did you injure yourself at the bank heist?"

The brunet's trembling left hand guided his partner to the side of his head. Hutch carefully examined with his fingers, he touched and located a lump. "Hey that's one hell of a goose egg you have their, Buddy. We need to get you checked out. I'm not taking no for an answer." He carefully lifted Starsky who waivered from side to side. The dazed brunet sat and took a deep breath; he touched Hutch gently on the chest and looked at him. "I'm sorry, Blintz."

Hutch looked at his friend; he looked like a sick little boy and touched his shoulder to comfort. "For what?"

Starsky seemed entirely disconnected; he smirked and shrugged as he wobbled back a fourth. Hutch smiled and looked at him. "Don't worry about it. Let's go!"

Chapter 4

Meanwhile, downtown in an abandoned warehouse location stood a man with a crew cut, smoking a cigarette as he exited a warehouse side door. He looked around and went to a phone booth near the entrance, the phone rang. "Yeah, Babbit is dead, the cops made us!"

The voice of the man at the other end of the phone was eerie and very creepy. "Donovan will be sprung, meet him tomorrow at noon, I notified Thistle that his services are needed."

The man looked around, puffed his cigarette, and snickered. "Thistle? A hit man, Mr. Thore?"

The man on the phone looked at the newspaper and opened it to a headline regarding the heist bust. His grayed hair was well cared for and caked with gel. His eyes were dark and features wore a sinister expression filled with hatred. "Exactly Niemo, Detective Starsky has been a thorn in my side for years. I want him eliminated!" Thore hung up the phone and laughed.

At the hospital, Hutch paced the hallway near the ER. The area was busy, nurses raced through the stark white double doors leading to the examining room area. Hutch went to the nearest vending machine and inserted a coin, pressed the appropriate number for a coffee. He sat on the shiny wood oak bench holding the cup in one hand and rubbed the back of his neck with the other. The week's events played in his mind; he was feeling a sense of guilt for not noticing the signs.

Hutch, deep in thought, didn't notice a woman standing in front of him; he looked up and rose to his feet immediately. Dr. Quo, the same physician that took care of Terry, Starsky's fiancé. She died at the hands of George Prudholm.

Hutch stumbled as he stood. "Dr. Quo?"

She extended her hand out and smiled. She was a petite woman, Asian descent. "Detective Hutchinson, a pleasure." She directed Hutch to sit as she sat next to him. She smiled. "David is resting."

Hutch looked with intense worried eyes. "How is he?"

Dr. Quo looked down and back at Hutch again. "David has sustained a mild concussion. We have completed a CAT scan and have begun testing and treatment."

Hutch looked at her. His face posed questions. "Treatment?"

Dr. Quo touched Hutch's arm. "The concussion is the least of our concern. We have located a tumor, which explains the headaches, confusion and dazed reaction you described to the attending physician."

Hutch's face grew long; his eyes didn't blink he reached for his face with his hand. He stood and began to pace. "Tumor, w-wait, how?"

Dr. Quo stood and placed herself in front of Hutch and looked at him very sternly. "The size is manageable, treatable; I will be sending the test results and the scan to Dr. Mishode in New York. For now, David needs rest."

Hutch continued to look at her. He was afraid to ask any more questions. Dr. Quo touched his arm. Hutch looked at her. "W-what?" The stammer present. Hutch tried to compose himself.

Dr. Quo sighed; she placed her hands into her lab coat pockets. "David will be released shortly and given medication for the headaches. A complete list of symptoms that may occur will be given to you. He may experience dizziness, loss of coordination and confusion. Along with blurred vision and possible loss of sight. We cannot rule out hearing loss, personality and behavioral changes, seizures. He may also experience gradual loss of sensation in his arms and legs. The positioning of the tumor is near the occipital lobe or temporal lobe of the cerebrum."

Hutch closed his eyes and swallowed; he looked at the floor. "The tumor…is it?"

Dr. Quo bowed her head momentarily and raised her eyes to meet worried blue ones. "Is the tumor benign or malignant? We will only know this if a biopsy is performed. I will know more once the results return. David must rest."

Hutch turned away and nodded with a halted breath.

Dr. Quo smiled. "David is waiting for you. He has decisions to make, and he asked that you be with him." Dr. Quo directed Hutch to the second room on the left down the hall.

Hutch composed himself and dropped the cup of coffee into the trash. He took a deep breath and entered the room to see Starsky sitting up on the bed dressed. He looked a little better but seemed to be lost in thought. Hutch walked over and placed his hand on his friend's shoulder, then sat in front of him.

Starsky grinned slightly. "Instincts were correct, Blintz. Good call." His voice soft but contained appreciation.

Hutch saw this was hurting his partner deeply. He leaned forward with his hands clasped. He rubbed them nervously. "How are you doing?"

Starsky stared at the floor, fidgeting with his hands. "Need to make some decisions, Hutch. Seein' we're partners they concern ya, kinda like Marshal Dillon and Chester or Roy Rogers and Trigger."

Hutch suddenly became very uncomfortable as this brought him back to Terry's situation. A decision she had to make to lay in a bed and live longer or get out of bed and die sooner. Hutch looked at his partner who refused to make eye contact which caused the blond to worry more.

Starsky took a deep breath, pulled his chin in and pursed his lips. "This is all depending on New York Doc's prognosis, surgery or no surgery, treatments if it's the 'C' word."

Hutch closed his eyes, took a deep breath. "Starsk, I can't decide for you, Buddy!"

Starsky finally gathered the courage to look at his partner and grinned. "Yeah, I know, but given the psychic vibes we share, I thought you might just process this with me like we do a hold up."

Hutch smiled and chuckled. "Like a hold up?"

Starsky snorted and looked back at his friend. "I'm askin a lot, need ya to support my decision, that's all. Let's keep this between us, no Ma or Nicky, just not yet, okay? I know Dobey's got his suspicions, guess we have to clue him in and Huggy."

Hutch nodded, his stomach did somersaults. "You got it, Buddy!" He frowned. "Roy Rogers and Trigger?"

Starsky took a deep breath. The chemistry between the two men needed no words. Hutch knew that his friend was scared and didn't know what to say or do, yet he sensed that Starsky was attempting to comfort him. A nurse came in with paperwork and a wheelchair and escorted the two men out.

Chapter 5

Leaving the ER, and standing to the side, Niemo smoked a cigarette. Donovan exited the emergency room supporting a bandaged hand. Donovan glanced over and pushed Niemo into the bushes near the path by the entrance. "Hey look, it's those cops!"

Niemo looked over to see Starsky being wheeled out and Hutch running across the lot to get his car. Donovan began to panic. Niemo punched his arm. "Calm down; you didn't tell me Starsky was injured." Donovan gasped for a air, his eyes focused.

Donovan still wired for sound responded. "He wasn't hurt!"

Both men watched as Hutch pulled his car around and assisted Starsky into the car. Niemo looked at his watch. "We need the skinny on this, Mr. Thore would want a full report. Get that little nurse that was eye'n you to talk." Niemo stood there and watched and puffed his cigarette.

Hutch dropped Starsky off to rest. He headed to his apartment to shower, and packed an overnight bag, then went to the Pits to see Huggy, to get a take out. The tall thin barkeep placed items into a bag; Hutch made his way over and sat. He rubbed his face with both hands. Huggy brought the bag over to him. "Soup de jour and a Starsky special." Hutch smiled and sighed, the lines of worry and fatigue dulled the usual radiant features.

"Thanks, Hug." Hutch pulled out some cash.

Huggy pushed it away. "Money's no good here. I should've known something was wrong with, Curly. A quiet Starsky is a dark-storm brewin'."

Hutch put his head down. "You and me both, Hug, thanks."

Huggy leaned forward and slipped Hutch a note. "Be seein you!"

Huggy walked away, Hutch grabbed the sizeable brown sack full of food and walked out to his car. Once settled in, he looked around and opened the note which read, "Word on the street, Thistle is in town to waste a cop named Starsky."

Hutch wasted no time starting the car and accelerated in a rapid motion. The cop instincts kicked in and he grabbed the microphone. "This is zebra three copy; patch me through to Captain Dobey." Hutch anxiously turned the corner and accelerated, as he waited.

"Dobey."

Hutch kept his voice calm, but to the point. "Captain, we've got a problem; Thistle is in town to waste a cop. Starsky's been named as the target!"

Captain Dobey's face exhumed anger and concerned. "Damn!"

Hutch took a deep breath as he maneuvered the car one-handed. "Captain, send a black, and white to Starsky's place, I'm in route." He dropped the microphone and concentrated on driving.

Captain Dobey pressed the hook switch and dialed.

Hutch raced through the streets to make it to Starsky's. A black and white arrived as Hutch pulled in, he motioned to them and ran up the stairs. He entered the house with his key, food, and overnight bag in hand. He opened the door cautiously and saw Starsky sitting on the couch staring at the wall. The curly haired pale figure didn't react as his partner entered. Hutch placed the food on the table and his overnight bag on the floor. He closed the door quietly. "Hey, Buddy!"

Starsky turned to greet him with a goofy sick half grin. "Dobey called, says he was just checkin' in to make sure I was okay." Starsky raised his questioning eyes to meet the worried ones. "What's going on, Hutch?"

Hutch took his coat off and ran his hand through his hair and smirked. He sat on the coffee table in front of Starsky. "Thistle is in town, and you're his target!"

Starsky exhaled, closed his eyes, opened them, and looked at the floor. "Smells like Thore." Starsky rubbed his face, shook his head. "Terrific."

Hutch walked to the window to verify the black and white was across the street. He rolled the sleeves of his shirt. "If Thistle is involved, Thore called the hit, but why?"

Starsky sat back and began to rub his temples and forehead. "Thore and I go way back, Hutch. I put his nephew, stepson, and his brother in the slammer. Branigan, the one I shot at the jewelry store is his sister's kid, ya can say eye for an eye. We suspected Thore was involved in the burglaries. Ya know Pike Donovan is owned by Thore." Starsky's words began to slur a little, Hutch returned to the coffee table and sat in front. Starsky's head throbbed, his vision blurred and he felt the room spinning. He placed his hands over his face and gasped.

Hutch watched and extended his hand out. "Starsk?"

Starsky closed his eye and took a deep breath as he slid his hands down. "Let me know when the merry-go-round stops?"

Hutch tapped his partner's knee and grinned.

Later that evening, Starsky laid on the couch with a pillow propped beneath his head. He appeared to be asleep and at peace. Hutch sat on the other side reading with his partner's feet draped over his lap. He tapped the sleeping man's feet to indicate he needed the feet moved so he could stand.

Hutch grabbed his overnight bag and went into the bathroom to take a shower. The phone rang, Starsky was startled. Slowly he sat up and reached for the phone behind him, put the receiver to his ear. "Hello!" His eyes opened widely as he tried to fight the haze of sleep and medications. "Who is this?" The phone went to a dial tone. Starsky placed the phone down, then slowly got to his feet and made his way to the window, where a black and white car sat.

The phone rang again fifteen minutes later, Starsky reached for it from his location near the couch. "Hello!" His face grew tense. "Who is this? HELLO?" He slammed the handset onto the receiver. The action caused his head to hurt, his vision blurred; he attempted to return to the couch when something crashed through the kitchen window. Starsky went to the floor and huddled near the couch.

Hutch had just towel dried himself and put his sweatpants on, and a T-shirt when he heard the loud crashing noise. He bolted out of the bathroom and saw the shattered window and glass on the floor in the kitchen. In the middle of the room sat a stone, he scanned the area and saw Starsky on the floor near the couch. "Starsk?"

Starsky had rolled on the floor behind the couch holding his head. Hutch shortened the distance and made it over to his partner; he reached down to help his friend up. "You okay?"

Starsky gasped, holding his head again as he stood. "The phone rang, the window, my head, oh my head."

Hutch helped Starsky up, and onto the couch. He grabbed the hand set and dialed frantically. His cop instincts kicked in and he walked over then picked up the rock to examine it thoroughly. A message in red ink or blood neatly displayed for his view. "You're dead cop!" Hutch's jaw rigid as his eyes scanned the broken window and shattered glass scattered on the floor. "Detective Hutchinson, 2480 Ridgeway, yes Starsky's place, we need assistance and forensics team, yes." Hutch slammed the handset onto the receiver of the phone. All in one motion, Hutch slid his shoes onto his feet, retrieved his gun hanging on the coat rack and went out the front door. He signaled the officers in the squad car to go around back. He went scanned the front of the house in search of clues, but found nothing. He spoke to the officers and went back to the apartment, closed the door.

As he entered the phone rang, he went directly to the phone and grabbed the hand set abruptly. "Hello…HELLO!"

A very sinister voice spoke. "Tumor or a bullet, which will it, be?" The telephone line went to a dial tone, and Hutch slammed the handset in the cradle. Anger and fear stung his ice blue eyes.

Starsky sat with his knees tucked, his arms crossed and propped, hands holding is head up. "Let me guess, my fan club?"

Hutch sat next to Starsky, his anger elevated. "Well, definitely wasn't your mother. Let's get you some meds and into bed before the Cavalry gets here."

Starsky's place was swarmed with police. Captain Dobey looked around the apartment. Hutch signed some paperwork, and the officers left. The Captain sat at the kitchen table. Hutch walked over and sat. He placed his hand on his face and took a deep breath. Hutch then slammed his fist on the table. "Rest and relax, damn this isn't helping."

Captain Dobey sighed. "I've got everyone I can spare on this, Hutch."

Starsky exited the bedroom. He glanced at his Captain and Hutch then slowly made his way to the table and sat next to Hutch. "What's with the sour faces, beginning to take this personally."

Dobey took his hanky from his pocket, patted his forehead and chin. "Starsky, the department is behind you."

The paled brunet rubbed his eyes, sighed. "Thanks, Cap'n." Unsteadily, he stood and went into the kitchen. Trembling hands rinsed a glass from the counter and retrieve some water. He offered Dobey and Hutch a drink, but they declined. He took a sip of water. "What's our next step?"

Hutch turned to look at him with a somewhat surprised expression. "Our next step? You aren't doing a damn thing, Starsky! Doctor's order."

Captain Dobey stood, put his hanky away, and walked across the room toward the door. "Hutch is right; you need to rest and let us do the work." Starsky made his way toward the Captain. He was a little off balance, his vision blurred. Something flashed from the living room window and caught his attention. Fear consumed him and no time for an explanation he shoved Captain Dobey abruptly. A gunshot rang out. The living room window shattered. Hutch dove onto the floor. Starsky dropped and landed on top of Captain Dobey as they hit the floor. Hutch crawled to the two men, gun in hand and looked around. Starsky rolled off of the stout black man and fell to the floor in a fetal position, grasping his head. "Sorry, Cap'n." The brunet gasped.

Captian Dobey pulled himself up and sat against the wall. He pulled a radio from his pocket. "Shot fired, shot fired!"

Hutch rose to his knees extended the gun ahead of him and made his way toward the window. "We're sitting ducks!" His eyes searched.

The area was surrounded by police officers once again. Hutch gave Captain Dobey a hand up. Starsky had managed to sit up. "It's me they want." The brunet shouted.

Hutch walked over to Starsky. "Yeah, well, to want is one thing to get is another."

Captain Dobey cleared his throat and wiped his face again, and looked at Starsky. "You saved my life, Starsky. I won't forget that."

Starsky grinned, closed his eyes, and opened them again. "That's my job, Cap'n!" He smirked and snorted. Hutch smirked, and reached his hand out to Starsky and helped him up.

Chapter 6

Hutch switched off all the lights, leaving a lamp on in the living room. Starsky sat in a wicker peacock chair away from the window. His arms crossed over his chest. He looked exhausted, disconnected. Hutch grabbed a cup filled with black coffee that sat on the table and made his way over to a bench near the wayward mind wanderer. Hutch sipped the coffee and glanced at Starsky. "Talk to me, Buddy."

Starsky kept staring into the darkness. His features were that of defeat, he sighed. "Never signed ya on for this Hutch, my nurse, and bodyguard."

Hutch put his head down and looked at Starsky and smiled. "Only doing what you would do for me."

Starsky chuckled, raised his left hand to scratch his forehead. "You wish! Huh, you're right." His smile went away, he pulled his shirt and fidgeted. "Ya know I would."

Hutch sipped his coffee once again; he played with the handle with his thumb. Starsky rubbed his face and looked into the darkness. "I'm sorry, Hutch."

Hutch surprised, looked over at his friend. "Sorry? What are you sorry for, Gordo?"

Starsky sighed, his eye wandered over to his partner. "The past week, it's all a fog."

Hutch closed his eyes briefly, rubbed his chin. Guilt ridden eyes looked at his friend. "I'm sorry for not doing something sooner."

Starsky fumbled with his fingers, he grinned. "Huh, not your fault, Blondie. Ya know I wouldn't have listened." He continued to fumble with his fingers and sighed. "Expected a car wreck, being shot, hell a hypo-never a tumor."

Hutch placed his hand on Starsky's knee and gently squeezed, his eyes met his partner's. "Yeah."

Starsky crossed his arms over his chest; he fought back fear and anger. He pursed his lips. "It's like a time bomb inside, and part of me says, Davey, if the bad guy gets ya first no worries. If he doesn't, he could hurt your best friend, couldn't live with that."

Hutch's face spoke a thousand words, his eyes pierced. "Talk like that will get us nowhere, Starsk; I couldn't live with that either." Hutch snapped. His eyes held sentiment.

Starsky took a deep breath, he rubbed his face and crossed his arms over his chest again. "You mean the world to me."

Hutch put his head down, he bit his lower lip, raised his eyes momentarily. "Starsk, a…huh."

Starsky swallowed hard; he smiled faintly. "Me and Thee, pal."

Hutch nodded, he didn't dare look at his partner as he felt his emotions rise and a lump formed in his throat. He merely looked at his coffee cup.

"What if it is cancer?" Starsky's voice trembled as he fought tears. Hutch put the coffee cup down and knelt down next to his friend and squeezed his shoulder. The emotions ready to burst like a volcano, tears stung his blinking eyes lids. "Buddy we're going to get through this one way or the other. No what ifs."

Hutch heard something, Starsky was alert as well; they both sprung into action. Hutch switched the lamp off and pulled his gun from his holster. Starsky made his way over to his gun hanging in the closet and stood near the bathroom. Hutch hid behind the couch. Outside stood three men, Donovan, Niemo, and Thistle. Thistle was a smaller stocky man, holding what looked like a sawed-off shotgun. Behind them in the background, two police officers lay motionless on the ground near the squad car.

Donovan went toward the back; Niemo went toward the front window. Thistle cocked the gun, shot through the door. The door flew open, Hutch waited patiently. Starsky noticed Donovan in the back window pointing the weapon toward Hutch.

"Hutch, kitchen window!" Starsky drew the Baretta and fired a shot hitting Donovan, he cried out in pain and fell back. Hutch watched as Starsky swung his gun toward the front window. Another weapon was pointed at Hutch, and he fired once again hitting his target. Niemo grabbed his chest, then dropped the gun and fell down the embankment near the steps. Thistle was in the doorway with a gun in readied firing position pointed toward Starsky. The brunet reached with his right hand and touched his head that felt as though it would explode causing his vision to blur.

Hutch jumped to his feet. "Freeze!" Thistle swung around and pointed the gun at him. Starsky, blinked several times and aimed his pistol and fired and missed.

Thistle laughed. "Say goodbye to your partner, Starsky!" Starsky leaped into the air and lunged himself onto Thistle and knocked him to the floor. The gun went off. Hutch jumped out of the way, and spun around to see Starsky on the floor. Thistle appeared dazed. Hutch shortened the distance and grabbed the rifle and tossed it. Quickly he turned Thistle onto his stomach and placed his knee in the center of his back, he pulled his right arm and yanked the left and cuffed him.

The blond went to his partner who was on the floor in a fetal position holding his head. He touched his head gently. "You okay?"

Starsky cringed. "Thought he got you."

Hutch laughed and looked around. "No, my partner had my back." Hutch reached over and turned the light on, took a deep breath and grabbed the phone and called in the incident. Starsky lay on his back with his hands to his head. "Hutch, can ya turn the lights on!"

Hutch paused, his partial smile slowly faded, and total panic crossed his facial features. "Detective Hutchinson, 2480 Ridgeway, dispatch an ambulance, coroner, and chrime lab team. Yeah suspects apprehended." Hutch hung up the handset missing it several times and walked over to Starsky and waved his hand in front. Starsky couldn't see. Hutch closed his eyes and put his head down. Starsky attempted to sit up. "Come on, Hutch? The light!"

Hutch put his hand on his shoulder and kneeled before him. "Buddy, the lights are on."

Starsky's face went blank.

Thistle rustled on the floor. "A blind cop, an instant death sentence!"

Hutch's face paled, he snapped. "Shut up!"

Starsky still had his gun in his hand; his hands began to shake. Hutch gently retrieved his partner's gun. He turned his head to gain his composure and helped his partner up, he wobbled a little. Starsky felt his way toward the bedroom; Hutch attempted to help him, but the brunet pulled away.

Within minutes Starsky's place swarmed with cops. Hutch sat at the table when Captain Dobey walked in and looked around. The stressed black man took his hanky out and dabbed his chin and forehead. "They didn't waste any time? So this is the end of the story?"

Hutch sat on the coffee table and leaned forward his head propped onto his hand, he sighed. "No, it's just the beginning."

Captain Dobey looked at Hutch with a concerned look. "Where's your partner?"

Hutch looked up, and toward the bedroom, he turned back and rubbed his eyes. "Lying down, he can't s...see." Hutch looked away briefly and sighed.

Captain Dobey's facial features faded to complete sadness; he pulled the chair and sat down almost in defeat.

"I contacted Dr. Quo. He's shut down. He saved my life, Captain. I don't know how to fix this!" The blond's voice trickled with fear.

Captain Dobey, took a deep breath. "Is this permanent?"

Hutch sat back and put his hands up, ran his hand through his hair. "No one knows, it could come back and lose it again."

Captain Dobey put his head down. "Should he be in the hospital?"

Hutch looked toward the bedroom door, and back to the floor. "The EMTs checked him out, they reported to Dr. Quo, he refused to go." Defeat and sadness covered his features.

Captain Dobey stood, put his hands behind his back. "Do you want me to speak to him?"

Hutch shook his head no, both men felt lost and didn't know what to do.

A few hours later, Hutch cleaned the apartment and managed to patch the door temporarily. The window was also repaired with cardboard. It was 10 pm, and Hutch was exhausted. He sat in the wicker peacock chair and took a deep breath. The events from earlier played in his head with Starsky saving his Captain, and then saving his life. Hutch closed his eyes, fighting the shadows of anxiety.

Hutch weighed heavily in his mind fond memories of his partner's charm, aggressive actions and tender moments. His mind ventured to the strength and tenacity that the curly-headed man empowered. His own Captain Marvel helped him during the situation when Forester had injected him with heroin. The pillar of strength never gave up on him. The time Starsky found Gillian, and he slugged him, his friend took it. Hutch remembered the conversation with Dr. Quo and her face when she mentioned the tumor. The blond raised both hands to his face, inhaled and let it out. He looked at the door to Starsky's room. "You aren't shutting me out."

Hutch rose to his feet and walked to the bedroom and placed his hand on the knob, tried to turn it but it was locked. He knocked gently; Starsky's responded. "Go away!"

Hutch leaned against the door with his shoulder nudged his forehead lightly. "Starsk, you need to take your meds." Hutch pleaded, there was no response. He pulled his head away, rubbed his face, stood there. "Starsk!"

Starsky sat on his bed with his knees bent and his arms wrapped around. His eyes displayed mere slits of indigo blue and no expression. "Go away, Hutch."

Hutch felt emotions rising, and slammed the door with his fist. "Open the damn door, Starsky!"

Starsky flinched at the sound, and he reached over on the nightstand. There sat a bottle of JD with the contents more than halfway gone along with his Smith and Wesson backup gun next to it. Starsky grabbed the bottle and drank, placing the container back, hitting the lamp. The brunet reached for the gun and held it near his chest; tears rolled down his face. He pulled his bottom lip inward fighting his heartache and pain.

Hutch closed his eyes placing his hand on the door as he spoke softly. "Let me in, please? Don't shut me out. We have always done things together."

Starsky removed the safety on his gun; it made a very distinctive noise which caught Hutch's attention, his eyes widened. Hutch went to the closet where Starsky's backup gun was nowhere to be found. The tall blond's face riddled with terror and panic, he lunged back to the bedroom door. "Buddy, let me in!" He tried to keep his tone calm, but the words came out shaky and as a demand.

Starsky held his knees with his right arm. The gun in his left; he was drunk, depressed and felt hopeless. His head hurt and he wasn't thinking clearly. Starsky wasn't himself and in a dangerous situation. Everything seemed magnified and more intense. His mind replayed the evening's events, Hutch almost killed, and the words that Thistle sputtered. "A blind cop, an instant death sentence." Starsky knew he had a lot of enemies and that if the word got out, it would be instant death to him and for Hutch who would try to protect him. The scene at the hospital with the tumor, the pain, and the C word…cancer, blindness all adding heaviness. Starsky squeezed his eyes shut.

Hutch was panicking at the door; he leaned in to listen. "Talk to me! Starsky talk to me!"

Starsky played with the gun and opened his eyes. "Too many unknowns, Blintz: tumor, cancer, blindness a sure death sentence for you and me both." Starsky blinked, his chin quivered. "I'd be an anchor. Hutch, people have left me, and some have died because of me!"

Hutch closed his eyes, opened them again. "Starsk, listen to me, please open the door? You're not thinking clear right now. Please open the door?" Hutch put both hands on the door and leaned; he pressed his forehead against the door. His heart felt as though it were going to thump out of his chest. "Starsk, you're all I've got." The blond's voice quivered with emotion. Starsky put his head down as Hutch spoke. The gun lay on his chest. Hutch choked a whispered sob, inhaled and exhaled. "You, you make me laugh, you piss me off. You challenge me, Buddy. We're yin and yang, Mutt and Jeff."

Starsky rocked himself back and forth. He cocked the gun. Hutch heard it. His heart felt as though it stopped. "STARSKY, open the fucking door!" His voice was loud.

Starsky's face was almost stone blank. "I love ya, Buddy, I'm sorry." His speech slurred and drawn.

Hutch backed up and lunged sideways into the door. The door blew open as Starsky raised the gun under his chin. The blond jumped hands forward, ripping the gun out from his partner's hand and landed on the bed. Starsky pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around then bowed his head.

Hutch lay on the bed on his stomach, put the safety back and rolled over. He pulled the clip from the chamber of the gun. The blond released a long overdue breath and put the gun down on the floor. Hutch pushed himself up off the bed, then spun around and grabbed the bottle of dark amber liquid and flung it across the room in anger. He put his hands on his face, rubbed and tried to come to grips with what just almost occurred.

Starsky just rocked, he raised his head enough to speak. "WHY, why…WHYYYY?" The anger poured out of his voice.

Hutch turned, looked at him with a desperate look in his eyes. "You're too good a cop, Starsky, to take the coward's way out!"

Starsky catapulted up out of bed, his hand in front trying to locate Hutch. The enraged curly-headed man grabbed his arm, his face exploded with unexpected anger, eyes watery. "NO, no…no!" Starsky swung violently as Hutch allowed the blows, his eyes wide and displayed a pallid face.

"You want to kill yourself, fine…here's my gun, go ahead, GO AHEAD, pull that trigger and you are killing both of us, Detective Starsky, Buddy, Old Pal!" Hutch grabbed his partner's left hand and placed the gun in it, Starksy stood there swaying, and Hutch grabbed his shoulders, his face twitched with emotional trauma. "Go ahead; you'd expect this from me. Hell, I've been there, done that, Buddy. Here, let me put the gun to my head, go ahead, pull the trigger." His eyes were glassy and panicked, his voice held conviction.

Starsky bowed his head and dropped the gun; he pulled away from Hutch gently, backed up reaching to locate the bed, and sat. Hutch stood there, trying to regain his composure. Starsky clenched his fists, and his breathing was rapid. "Just go Hutch, GO, just…go!"

Hutch went around and retrieved the guns on the floor, he hesitated and walked toward the door and into the living room. He placed the guns in the closet then removed his holster. He leaned against the closet door frame and bowed his head. The anxiety and floodgate of tears came out automatically. He put his hands on his face and sobbed, the sound caught Starsky's attention.

The anger released, reality set in along with guilt. Starsky sobered quickly. He realized he'd hurt Hutch and it burned inside; he just sat and looked side to side as though to focus but he still couldn't see. Starsky rose to his feet and put his hand out in front of him to locate the doorway. The low sobs could be heard, he followed the sound, his hand touched Hutch's arm, and he put his head down on the stern shuddering shoulder. "Oh God, I'm sorry, Hutch. Don't go, please. I'm sorry, m-so sorry. Everythin's a mess in my head." His chin quivered as he blinked.

Hutch took a deep breath and turned and embraced Starsky who began to cry uncontrollably. Their embrace locked, Hutch squeezed. "I'm not going anywhere, Buddy. Me and Thee! I'm here…I'm here."

Chapter 7

The next day Hutch sat in the hallway at the hospital. He looked up and down the hall to see any familiar faces. He looked at the clock as he had so many times before. Hutch looked back to see Dr. Quo motioning him into the room. In the room, Starsky sat on the bed. He looked up as now his vision was restored and smiled. Hutch looked at him. "Hey, you can see me?"

Starsky smiled and nodded. Dr. Quo touched Hutch's hand. "The specialist confirmed that the excessive physical exertion caused the swelling which enhanced the loss of sight, he must rest."

Starsky grinned. "Life in a day of a cop!"

Hutch chuckled. He looked at Dr. Quo and back at Starsky who didn't want to make eye contact with him. "Dr. Quo here says that the alcohol and swelling mixed with medications caused my meltdown."

Dr. Quo smiled. "David is fine now." Dr. Quo motioned Hutch to sit. "We must talk."

Hutch sat, she sat next to him, and silence fell upon the room. Dr. Quo looked at Starsky who grinned partially. "New York confirms tumor, and they feel that they can remove it and do a biopsy."

Hutch looked at Dr. Quo and back at Starsky, Dr. Quo smiled. "David also has been given a choice to remain on the medication to attempt to reduce the size of the tumor, then a biopsy."

Hutch looked at his partner. "If you go with the medication you risk growth and blindness. What if you remove?"

Dr. Quo looked at Starsky he nodded. "The risks are possible damage as with any surgery, blindness, paralysis, memory loss, but he would know if it is cancer."

Starsky looked at the floor. "What the Doc is sayin is, if I do meds I can't return to work, Hutch. They wouldn't clear me for duty. If I do the surgery pending no cancer and risks, I could be cleared back for duty in a month or maybe a little more."

Hutch stood, and walked toward the window. "Decisions!"

Dr. Quo stood. "I will let you talk." She left the room.

Hutch made his way back to the chair; he played with his fingers and sighed. "Details, Ollie?"

Starsky rubbed his face. "The specialist is arriving in an hour and surgery within three to four hours. The brunet raised his head and glanced to see Hutch's reaction, searching for any indication of what he should do. "Last night's display wasn't me, Hutch. I think we can both agree we don't want a repeat. I want this thing gone. I need to know. Risk is what we do and live." Hutch put his head down to his hands and cupped his face, then sighed.

Starsky fumbled with his hands. "I'm seein it this way, I'm not runnin; besides someone's gotta watch your back. That's my job!" He smirked with an as-a-matter-of-fact expression.

Hutch looked up, smiled, but inside his stomach was turning, and his heart was beating like crazy. "Ain't that the truth!" Hutch sighed and looked at his partner. "I'm here, Starsk, either way." Hutch stood and made his way over to Starsky, put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

Dr. Quo walked in. Starsky looked at her. "Let's get this thing out of me!"

Hutch made some phone calls to Captain Dobey and Huggy. He updated both men. Both men arrived in record time. They stood outside the hallway pacing. Starsky was placed on a transport gurney and wheeled into the hallway, his eyes locked onto Hutch; he looked at Captain Dobey and then Huggy. The nurse stopped the bed and excused herself for a moment. Starsky laid his head back on the pillow. "Things I gotta do for attention."

Hutch chuckled, Captain Dobey, put his head down.

Huggy shook his head. "Hang loose my man, see ya on the flip side." He winked and pointed at him.

Captain Dobey extended his hand and shook Starsky's hand. "Praying for you, son." Huggy and Captain Dobey walked away.

Starsky sighed, looked at Hutch, and grinned. "I've had my quota of soapy scenes, Blondie!" Hutch shook his head. His eyes glanced to meet Starsky's. Two sets of blue brilliance locked. No words just intuitive acknowledgement of encouragement and support. Time stood still as they nodded and smiled. Their hands grasped tightly. The nurse returned. The two locked hands slowly released as the nurse began to push. "I'll take good care of him."

The blond followed briefly then turned to the waiting area where Huggy and Captain Dobey sat. He went to the window. Huggy leaned onto his knees. "Gut tells me our man is going to be fine."

Hutch just stared out the window. "I hope you're right, Hug."

Hours passed, Hutch was asleep on the lounge chair, Captain Dobey sat reading a magazine, Huggy walked in with coffees. Hutch startled awake and accepted a coffee. Dr. Quo appeared in the doorway, she smiled. Hutch jumped to attention and greeted her. Dr. Quo took his hand. "David is in recovery; it's too soon to know, the tumor upon sight does not appear to be cancerous." Everyone in the room started breathing a sigh of relief; Huggy slapped his knee.

Hutch squeezed Dr. Quo's hand gently. "When can I see him?"

Dr. Quo smiled. "In a few hours, he is still in recovery; once he awakes, we will know the rest."

Hutch entered a private room; he was surprised to see that Starsky still had hair and there was a significant patch of white gauze around his forehead. He had an oxygen mask, and the monitors beeped steadily. Hutch removed his jacket, pulled the chair and sat. He extended his hand to touch Starsky's, and it was surprisingly warm. Hutch leaned placing his arms on the edge of the bed and laid his head on his arms. He closed his eyes. "God, if you hear me, he's lost too much." Hutch let out a sigh; it felt as though he'd been holding it for a long time. "Meant what I said Starsk, yin and yang."

Starsky was awake; he heard what Hutch had said. The slightly disoriented brunet attempted to focus and recall where he was, Hutch's eyes shimmered with moisture.

"Loyalty, unconditional love, and friendship, that's you, David Michael Starsky." Starksy smiled, he slowly lifted his hand and touched Hutch's hair. The blond froze, he slowly raised his head to see crystal indigo blue eyes gleaming at him reddened with moisture. Starsky raised his hand and lightly brushed the wetness away and closed his eyes.

Hutch stood aside, and watched Dr. Quo and the surgeon from New York examine his partner as the oxygen mask was removed. They moved to the end of the bed, Dr. Quo looked at Starsky, then back to Hutch. "David is showing favorable signs, memory is intact, equal strength in arms and legs, and speech is good."

The surgeon smiled and placed his hand on Starsky's foot. "David this doesn't mean you can leap out of this bed today or tomorrow. You need rest and to allow that head of yours to heal."

Hutch smiled, Starsky looked at Hutch and back to the physicians. "Well, you see, Doc, my partner here needs me to watch his back. I was also hoping to get a double feature in, Bogey." Hutch gave him a look and shook his head, Starsky sighed. "I hear ya, Doc."

The surgeon saw the chemistry between the two men and admired it. "From what I can see, you're both in good hands, rest!" Both physicians left. Hutch sat back in the chair, Starsky closed his eyes, took a deep breath.

Starsky was deep in thought. He glanced at Hutch. "What ya said, same back at ya."

Hutch looked at him with a puzzled face. "What?"

Starsky smirked, cleared his throat, and gestured with his left hand. "Loyalty, unconditional love, and friendship, right back at ya!"

Hutch's face blushed, and at the same time, he was annoyed. "How long were you awake?"

Starsky formed the most prominent grin that he could possibly paint. "If you are goin' to talk to God, be careful what ya ask for, Blondie. Now get me a burrito, I'm starvin'!"

Hutch's eyes widened as he grabbed the pillow on the table next to him and threw it at his partner.

Onto the next adventure...to hell with The End.