This story was posted on BCL on Feb 2006. For some reason today I felt compelled to re-work it and re-post it.

I guess I'm a bothie writer—but Hutch definitely is my inspiration and my beloved when it comes to Starsky and Hutch.

Hutch isn't represented much in S&H fanfic these days. I just wanted to put something up that honors Ken Hutchinson. I'm smitten with the guy—BIGTIME! This has been on my mind for some time and I feel compelled to do something about it.

I hope to post regularly more Hutch- inspired stories. There's so much Starsky fic out there and I just feel there's gotta be some folks out there waving a banner for Ken Hutchinson, too. No offense to those Starsky gals out there. You guys are doin' your thing. Very prolific bunch !!

So Hutch & bothie fans… I am gonna re-focus my attention from other stuff for awhile to try and keep it goin'

-I'm finishing up a 150+ pager – a sequel to Sonora which I hope to start posting in October

-and I'm gonna re-work and re-post another story I have over at BCL

-I also have 3-4 Hutch inspired WIP's in the works. I'll try to finish one of the smaller works and post it real soon.

I hope there are some other writers out there-- -- who will jump on the bandwagon!! H/c Hutch writers, bothie writers who have much love for Hutch, Hutch fans!!-- come out of the shadows!!

Let's celebrate the very interesting, complex, endearing, loyal, clumsy, and some times quite intimidating character that DS created.--

Detective Sergeant Kenneth Hutchinson…Hutch.

Hey, a new movement has gotta start somewhere, huh?

Now it starts.

Disclaimer:

This is an original storyline based on the episode " A Body Worth Guarding." Although the direction taken in this story is original the well-loved characters are not. They don't belong to me and I don't make any money by continuing to tell their stories.

Thanks again to the wonderful beta Donna Engle. Her diligent work of carefully editing this story is much appreciated.

I made a lot of changes to this story after editing simply because I found the story needed a bit more meat to fill it out so…any errors in this story should be attributed to my hard-headed muse.

(not a death fic.)

News At 11

From where Starsky stood it looked like both Anna and Hutch were down.

He tackled the shooter; roughly cuffing him and turning him over to a uniform cop, never taking his eyes off of Anna and Hutch's fallen bodies. There had not been any movement from them since the shots were fired.

Starsky, his heart pounding ferociously in his chest, made his way to them through the mish mosh of people caught up in the panicked and confused activity that follow acts of random violence. The dead weight of Hutch's body was sprawled face down over Anna's body. The panic, lights, and people running had reporters and cameramen already on the scene scrambling over the police barriers to get to the story they had come for.

Starsky was thinking how he did not want this to end up as one of those "A Love Story Ends in Tragedy- Tonight at 11" stories.

Hutch was down. Anna was down… Dead?

Finally slipping through the masses to get to them, he found Anna now was sitting up, her white fur coat saturated with blood and Hutch's light colored jacket shared in the eerie bright red banner that punctuated the tragedy before him.

Who's hit? Who's hit?

Starsky's mind was speeding in all directions, overloaded with the onslaught of information that triggers a cop's brain into action, and he couldn't process clearly the information he so desperately wanted to understand at this moment.

Hutch?

He knelt next to Anna who held Hutch's limp body in her hands, her eyes slightly closed.

"Anna?" Starsky managed to squeeze out.

She seemed to understand what he was asking, shaking her head as the tears streamed down her face, falling on to Hutch. Her eyes dropped to Hutch and back up to Starsky. "No…not me."

The pounding in his heart intensified. Almost blinding him, as it ignited a roar of distress in each and every nerve ending, confirming what he had already known the moment he had heard the shots. Hutch was hit.

The night started out badly…threats to the Russian ballerina's life had brought uneasiness to Starsky. Why hadn't he heeded the instinctive warning and insist that they not attempt to move the dancer, he and Hutch were supposed to be protecting, through the crowd of protestors and fans?

Starsky knew that Hutch would protect her with his life if anything went down…but he had allowed himself to be distracted by the amusing romantic vibes between Hutch and Anna. Everyone around them seemed to be caught up in it. It was puppy love, very cutesy. It had been a major mistake.

But nothing could have prepared him for what was coming their way.

Didn't know tonight would be the night Hutch would die in his arms.

Surprised he was able to speak, "Let--let me see him," he told Ana. Resting a hand on Hutch's chest, he was shocked by the pale ghostly coloring of Hutch's face. Totally contrasted by the crimson that was creeping a wide stain over his fallen partner's upper body. The colors scared the crap out of Starsky and he yelled to a terrified rookie cop who stood over them, the look of complete shock covering his youthful expression, "GET AN AMBULANCE HERE, NOW!" Starsky roared at him. "Ambulance!" The plea was tipped with enough anger to get legs and people moving fast.

Starsky's reach was hesitant, but he gently peeled back the material to peek under the shirt and the wound in Hutch's chest that was rapidly pumping out his blood. Ana, moving like a slow motion movie clip, carefully passed over Hutch's body to him. The exchange was a sacred moment and Starsky gasped when the dead weight of his partner slid onto his lap.

"Buddy," he whispered, pulling Hutch closer. Any one who had eyes could see Hutch's condition was going down quickly.

To his utter amazement, Hutch's eyes suddenly opened, staring blankly into Starsky's face.

"H-Hutch?" Starsky stuttered.

Hutch gasped for air as if he were a man who had been held under--forcing his face above the water, desperately taking in that first life saving breath. His arms possessed by wild movement as he tried to push himself out of Starsky's arms and off the ground.

Starsky knew what was happening. He'd seen it before. Cops, criminals or victims severely wounded --propelled into a blind battle to live. As if moving from the place where they had fallen would change the outcome for them. Scared and desperate to save their lives but not clear- headed enough to put their thoughts together-- they would run. Some would hide. How many times had him and Hutch had to follow a trail of blood to find the injured person crawled up in a corner somewhere or collapsed and dead on the front lawn of a friend or relative?

Hutch tried to fight his way out of Starsky's tight hold. Hutch was trying to stand up. From the look on his face, Starsky knew that if he released him, Hutch might take off running.

"No. S'alright. Part'nr. D-don't, huh?" Starsky barely choked out.

Hutch didn't seem to know where he was, or what had happened. Didn't know Starsky was holding on to him with all his strength.. He was fighting for his life. In that place between this world and the next. Fighting to keep a hold on all that he knew and loved. Fighting to live. His adrenaline fueling him for this last battle.

Starsky held on, pulling him to his chest and wrapping his arms around him. "No, Hutch! No, buddy!"

Hutch couldn't hear him. His body shuddered violently in Starsky's arms as he let out a mournful soul-wrenching groan.

"No! No! No! Hutch! Don't do this! You're not doing this!" Starsky cried.

Starsky searched Anna's face for help but her horrified expression told him what he did not want to know.

Hutch was dying in his arms. His blood seeping out between their bodies and on to the dirty street.

Starsky, shaking in despair, felt the life leave him…left Hutch…left both of them as Hutch's body slumped against him.

The world, after that loss, was a blur..

People were roughly handling him, pulling Hutch's body away. Paramedic's'hands flying at rapid speed working on his partner. There was a muffled roar of pressure in his ears… and hands tugging at him. Separating them. Separating the living …him, and the dead…Hutch. All he could see was his best friend's ashen face, Hutch' slightly opened eyes held on to Starsky with an empty gaze. Fallen warrior. Gone forever…separated by life and death.

Every cop's fear for his partner and himself…a bullet.

A news story for the public but the very crushing of his heart and soul.

The thought of the evening's leading news story flashed in Starsky's head. Cop stories were always human interest fodder.

'Officer killed in the line of duty. News at 11' would be the headline.

The weight of his grief was destroying him on the inside.

Hutch was gone.

Had died in his arms…and Starsky could still feel his essence all around him. Hutch's scent and blood all over him.

No No NO No NO NO, no NO NO… Starsky's whole being cried out and he wasn't sure if he was saying it out loud or yelling it at the top of his lungs. But Anna was screaming. All he could hear was her and the squealing siren of the ambulance as it passed by him. And when he looked down, Hutch's body was gone...driven away. Anna's arms were crushing him and her tears were hot on his neck. He couldn't breath. Hutch was dead. His partner and best friend slaughtered in the street. Gone, just like that – his body on route to the city's morgue.

"David! David."

Hutch had died.

"…hospital. David?"

Hutch gone.

"David!"

He blinked away tears and found Dobey was giving him a two handed shake.

Starsky pulled away from him, his stomach turning. He stumbled a few feet, vomiting violently against the red brick wall he tried to use to support himself on.

His Captain stood next to him, speaking softly, "…get you to the hospital." was all Starsky heard.

"Wha--don't need a hospital. Hutch—he's gone, Cap'n," Starsky answered weakly.

"No. They took Hutch to Memorial."

Starsky shook his head in confusion and despair. He wasn't sure what was happening anymore and he didn't care. Not now. Hutch was dead and he couldn't fight with Dobey about logistics. Morgue or hospital? Didn't matter. Hutch was dead. Nothing else mattered.

"Yeah. Okay. Hutch's body's at Memorial." Starsky said. He staggered forward, Dobey's supportive big hand on his back.

Wherever they were going, Stasky needed to see him one more time. See Hutch--tell him that he would be all right--somehow. Tell him he loved him, how much he'd miss him, and that he'd keep fighting, too, to the very end…just like Hutch had.

Promise Hutch one day they'd be together again.

That was all there was left to do.

View his partner's body and make the funeral arrangements.

CHAPT 2

"Detective, his condition is grave." The doctor said. "Frankly, I don't think he'll make it to morning. Very sorry if that sounds blunt, but I don't want to give you any false hope. We're getting some blood in him – trying to stabilize Sergeant Hutchinson as best we can and get him up to surgery. There's a lot of damage. We should probably wait but--we need to repair that artery and stop that bleeding ASAP. We don't have a lot of choices here – he's forcing our hand."

"Wait, wait…wait a minute… He died. I-I felt... I don't understand…" Starsky mumbled like a man high on drugs.

Dobey, well aware that Starsky was in a traumatized state, looked to the surgeon, Doctor Riche, for help with his distraught detective. It was obvious that, at the moment, Starsky was out of touch with the present reality.

"Sit down, Dave," Dobey ordered, pushing Starsky into a nearby chair.

"Detective?" the doctor inquired about the name of the officer he was going to try again to explain to what was going on with the man who had been brought into the ER just under an hour ago.

"Starsky," Dobey clarified, "He's Hutchinson's partner—Dave Starsky."

The doctor continued in a sympathetic authoritative voice. "Detective Starsky--your partner was dead when the paramedics arrived at the scene. We've got a great medical rescue team. They did their job and they got Detective Hutchinson's vitals back up. Quite miraculous with his injuries...he lost a lot of blood, too much blood. It's amazing how much damage a single bullet can do. But right now, he's got a heart beat and I'm going to try and help him."

Starsky and Dobey nodded sadly.

"Doctor Riche, he's on his way up to surgery!" a nurse yelled in their direction with urgency in her voice as she rushed to retrieve the elevator.

Starsky stood. Clutching the doctor's arm, he said. "Help him, please."

The doctor spoke to Dobey and a devastated looking Starsky, who was nervously rocking in his stance. He put a hand on Starsky's shoulder to soften the blow of what he was about to say. "I'm going to do everything I can for him, but you have to be prepared, detective…your friend may not make it out of surgery. I'm very sorry."

Starsky's gave him a weak nod.

Doctor Riche allowed his 'let's get down to business voice to return', "Now, I promise, I'll get back to you both as soon as he's out of surgery." He delivered the words rapidly as he rushed for the elevator the nurse held for him.

-oo-

He was so grateful Hutch was alive but shock had pinned down any joy he should be feeling as he kept playing back Hutch's death. Wasn't able to let go of it, couldn't shake it off and deal with what was going on right now. A shot fired in the night and just like that, Hutch was gone. While Starsky was holding on to him, Hutch's spirit had floated away. His blood on Starsky's shirt- exhibit A.

The doctor said even though Hutch was in surgery, he was expected to live.

Did any of the doctors efforts matter.

Hutch had to know he had died. Wherever his mind, spirit, or soul was, it had to know his last moments were of him fighting for his life as his blood flowed out from the wound in his chest, settling into puddles on the cold ground beneath him. Remembered that he had severed his connection to the living. Starsky anguished over what Hutch's last thoughts were…feelings of pain and dying filling his last breaths.

How could Hutch ever find his way back to living again?

-oo-

After surgery the doctor surprisingly had arranged for Starsky to be with Hutch in ICU.

The doctor had said it was a miracle the paramedics got Hutch's heart beating again. It was a miracle he was alive after all the blood he had lost. Miracle he had made it out of surgery, they had lost him once on the table, but he had survived.

What are the chances of a guy dying twice in one night Starsky thought bitterly.

When Starsky had asked the doctor what Hutch's odds were, Dr. Riche had sadly commented, "As far as Detective Hutchinson is concerned, I think we are out of miracles, doesn't look good." He squeezed Starsky's shoulder sympathetically as he left him alone in the empty hospital corridor. That's why Starsky believed the they had let him be with Hutch when he came out of surgery.

To be with him when Hutch made his final exit. Starsky wondered how he could live through it a second time? Watch Hutch die again. Why had God chosen to be so cruel to them? There was no more hope. There never was. The single bullet that had burrowed through his best friend had been the end of all the hope there ever was.

How could he ever find something else as good as Hutch to live for? Or believe in?

So Starsky sat in a room full of machines that were keeping his friend alive and watched Hutch breathe. And waited for death to come again.

Starsky couldn't take his eyes off of his friend. He listened to the machines and watched Hutch's chest rise and dip. Not knowing when the last fall would come.

Starsky wasn't sure how long he sat there. People kept trying to talk to him. Someone had tried to give him two little yellow pills and he brushed them aside. Why couldn't they leave him alone? He wasn't going anywhere. He was mourning. He held Hutch's hand, ran a pleading hand up and down his arm, a palm to his face constantly checking for any telltale sign of fever or coldness of death.

Dobey talked to him in a stern voice but it didn't matter what he was saying.

"Uh –uhh," Starsky said dismissing him. Dobey stormed out of the room cursing "Damn it! He won't listen to me, either," to someone else out in the hallway.

As he waited, he studied Hutch closely, recording every detail of his friend to memory. Didn't want to forget anything about him. A small scar on the back of his left hand right near his thumb, rounded fingernails. Fixing in his mind Hutch's features as if he could ever forget them.

Love you, buddy.

Starsky's eyes stung with the tears one dare not shed. The kind of tears that are shed for the lost loved ones, the kind of tears we shed for the dead. He refused to let them fall, afraid that if there was any chance at all – it could tip the fragile balance of the scale Hutch's life hung on to by a thread.

By the second day Starsky was too tired to fight off Dobey, who physically removed him from Hutch's side. Tossed him into his car and then into the shower at Dobey's home. Sat him down at the kitchen table and Edith filled his stomach with a large hot breakfast.

Starsky felt like a zombie. The walking dead—in limbo. Just like Hutch. They were always so inexplicably intertwined. And now was no different. Linked in life and in death was his cyncial conclusion.

Edith pushed him down into the large bed in their guestroom.

Edith sat on the edge of the bed. "We all are praying for him. Don't give up on your prayers, David. God can still work a miracle for us."

"You believe that?" his voice was harsh with exhaustion. "I think God is mad at us. Why? Why Edith?"

"God ain't mad at you boys, David. He's making a miracle here, you just can't see it yet, dear."

Starsky frowned and cruelly spat out, "All I've seen is blood and death. Hutch don't deserve that and neither do I. You're asking me to believe in the impossible."

"No…David. Nothin's impossible. You believe in somethin', things can get turned around."

Picking up his hand in both of hers, she spoke words to encourage him, "David, you have to know there's something very special about you two. You boys are so connected. I'm sure Ken knows exactly what you're going through, and I bet he's depending on you to not give up on him." Probing his eyes with hers as she made her declaration, " Now, Harold told me what the doctor said, but they don't know everything. You keep talking to God and we'll keep praying. Don't ever give up on Ken. Let's just see what happens. OK?"

"I can't feel him anymore, Edith. It's like he's gone already."

"Let's just see what happens," she repeated with a warm smile.

She closed the door behind her when she left. Starsky figured it wasn't locked but visualized the cop Dobey probably had sitting on the other side of the door served the same purpose. There would be no escape and he was too exhausted to attempt one anyway.

He wanted to close his eyes but thought about what Edith had said and tried to keep his eyes open. Talked to God. Put his heart into it. Made the kind of promises one could only make with God and hoped it would help keep Hutch on this earth.

Lying on his back he locked his eyes onto the white ceiling, hoping it would keep him from dreaming. Expected there would be nothing but blood and nightmares. But the freshly laundered smell of the crisp linen seduced him, taking him into a deep sleep.

He was comforted. Didn't know if had been the hot shower, the big breakfast, Edith's words or maybe it was because he had talked to God. It could have been because for the first time since the shooting, he felt Hutch's presence. Heard that voice and Hutch's laugh. There in the room with him-- comforting him and pressing him firmly into a peaceful rest.

Maybe his prayers had been answered.

-oo-

It felt good to be back where he should be, sitting next to Hutch and waiting. The Dobeys had taken good care of him and he appreciated their friendship, felt a little stronger.

Starsky continued to wait, to watch, to believe and, to everyone's surprise, Hutch's heart continued to beat.

Doctor Riche began to look at Starsky with a curious glance whenever he entered the room. One day he told Starsky he was taking Hutch off the respirator.

"He's gonna be all right, huh?"

"Things are definitely turning around. It's really quite amazing. Sometimes…things are working around in the background… and…I don't know how all this…"

No longer listening to the doctor Starsky remembered what Edith had said… "things get turned around."

And Starsky was there the next day when Hutch's consciousness…his spirit…returned to the world just as it had left it. A loud deep gasp for air came from him, fear and pain in his eyes, and Starsky's strong hold on him.

Starsky huddled close to Hutch, gently squeezing his arm as he whispered to him, "You're ok, babe. Still with us. Still with us."

Hutch was too weak to turn to him. The drugs, closing his eyes, returned him to temporary hibernation.

Starsky, overwhelmed with emotion, sat there crying for a long while before he rang for the nurses to give them the good news.

(tbc)