(A/N: Hello readers. I am back in the states where I have hot, clean water and WiFi! This chapter was actually much longer and somewhere at 40,000 feet with pen and paper I realized that in order to have chapter length consistency I had to break it at some point. Thanks for the patience during my two-week hiatus. ~SD)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The knock on Starsky's door was firm and purposeful.

"Starsky, open the door. Open it or so help me I'll get a battering ram and take it down myself."

"It's open."

Captain Dobey walked into a darkened apartment to find his detective sitting on the floor cross legged, back against the wall, drinking a beer.

"Anything left of that six-pack?" Dobey asked as he leaned against the door frame next to Starsky.

Starsky reached into the paper grocery bag at his feet and pulled another can out tossing it to his visitor without saying a word.

"Just came from the hospital."

Starsky never looked up preferring to keep his words and thoughts to himself only relenting when he thought back to the last time he saw Hutch – in the bed, mouth open in shock reaching out to his father fallen on the floor of the hospital room. "He okay?"

"Mr. Hutchinson is fine." Dobey knew that's not who Starsky was asking about, but preferred to get that out of the way first. "Apparently he was overwhelmed from his cancer treatment and everything he, ya know, heard. It was a shock. Passed out."

"Hutch?"

Dobey sighed and tilted his head as he opened the beer and took a swallow. "Put back his homecoming a bit."

"What do you mean?"

"Seems after you were dragged out of the room and removed from the hospital as a result of backing Simonetti into a wall and threatening to kill him," he said with a tinge of frustrated anger, "Hutch tried to reach his father on the floor and had some sort of breathing emergency with his trach undone. He hadn't been suctioned yet, or somesuch…"

Starsky's hand was shaking as he put the half can of warm beer on the floor then rubbed his sweating palms back and forth on his blue jean covered thighs. "What… I don't know… Um… how is he?"

"He should be fine. They sedated him, took him back up to the ICU and on the vent until he's stable. Few more days he'll get home. But once again, Starsky, your impulsive actions have consequences. You have to control these outbursts through this process."

Starsky nodded in agreement, then wiped his face from top to bottom and took a deep breath while itemizing plans out loud. "I… ah… have to get over to his place. Finish getting it ready. Buy some groceries. I figure if I…"

"You can't, son."

"What do you mean I can't?"

Dobey reached behind him and took out a packet of tri-folded papers. "Judge issued an emergency restraining order…"

Starsky furrowed his brow and grimaced. "You serving me, Cap?"

"Officially, yes. I didn't want you getting this from someone else."

"Hutch petitioned the court for this? He doesn't want to see me?"

"I don't know what he wants, Starsky. It was requested by Hutch's parents."

"He's a grown man, Cap. They can't just do that.

"They can and they did. It was granted based on Hutch's current mental and physical condition." When Starsky didn't take the papers, Dobey dropped them into his lap. Serving the papers, confronting his detective about the charges – all a dirty, nasty side to his job. "And…and the evidence presented to him alleging that a sexual assault took place." Again, Starsky didn't look up and almost acted as though he hadn't heard what Dobey said. "They're saying rape, Dave."

"I know. I heard it from the motherfucker IA pricks myself. Simonetti oughta get an award for that act."

"You know I have to ask." Dirty, dirty job.

"Really? Really, Cap?" Starsky pushed his legs out straight but maintained his downward stare. "Then ask. Might as well. Let me hear it from you too."

The air thickened between them as Dobey shuffled his weight from one foot to the other in contemplative hope – hope that Starsky wouldn't force the question, but the silence forced the issue. He sighed and swallowed hard before finally asking what needed to be asked for the record. "Did you rape him?"

Starsky finished the beer with a few large gulps, crushed the can with one hand and threw it across the room to a nonexistent trash can. "I didn't rape my partner. But that's not enough for you, is it?"

"Dave, I saw the file," the investigator in Dobey pushed, needing Starsky to address the evidence in real time. "I saw the report from forensics. The lab results, medical findings…. Photos."

"Yeah? So, guilty until proven innocent? Is that how it works for me?" But Dobey had no answers for the defensive snarkiness. "How about the victim's statement, huh? You always say a case isn't worth going before the judge without a cut and dry victim's statement."

"Clearly, after what happened today… and the medication… Look, Simonetti and Schrader said Hutch didn't deny it and once his breathing was compromised he wasn't able to talk. When I got to the hospital he was out of it."

As Dobey put his empty can back in the paper bag he took the time to pat Starsky's shoulder as a sign of… a sign of…. he didn't know. Understanding? Support? Fatherly compassion? Whatever it was he needed, Dobey couldn't give it to him. But he needed to prepare Starsky for the inquisition that would be coming his way.

"You think I raped my partner?" Starsky asked with a not so subtle hint of bitterness. "Huh? Do you, Cap?"

"I know that when I found you, you were stoned out of your mind. All you had on were your pants and you were half out of them."

"You know everything then?"

"Starsky, clearly I don't and you well know that." He still was getting nothing concrete out of his detective. Nothing but attitude. "Do you have anything you want to tell me?"

"It doesn't matter what I say. Your minds are made up…"

"Don't paint me with the same brush as IA, Starsky. I'm just here to…"

"You haven't said you believe me. Given that, I'd say the brush fits."

One hot poker shoved up his ass. The Captain felt completely defeated. "Dave…"

"You should leave. The door is behind you."

"As the main suspect in a felony of… in this case, don't leave the county. No going to the hospital, his place or anywhere he may be." He had to say it. He had to go down the list. "No calling him. No contacting him through a third party or mail…"

"But Cap we'll never find out who did this if we can't work together. And you know…"

"This is not your case. You don't have any cases. You're suspended and an order of protection has been issues against you. You know the drill."

"I know the drill."

"Starsky, I have the best detectives on this. The best."

"Used to be your best was us."

He was right and the Captain knew it. His best detectives were suspended. One barely recovering from life threatening injuries and the other charged with inflicting those injuries as well as other horrific atrocities. "Don't interfere, Starsky. Please. You'll just make it worse for the both of you. And I don't think it's safe for you to be anywhere near the station. The guys… they know."

Starsky snorted as he opened his next can. "Yeah, I'm sure minds have been made up there too. Simonetti must have a perpetual hard-on over this." He laughed as he wiped an errant dribble of beer from his chin and sensed his Captain's unease at the joke. "What... too soon?"

"I can't tell you how serious this is."

Starsky stood up and pointed his finger accusingly at his Captain's large chest. "You don't think I know? You don't think that being kept from my…" He stopped abruptly and kicked the now empty grocery bag away from him. "Apparently only the great Detective Hutchinson can clear me and it seems unlikely, doesn't it?"

"Give him time."

"Time," he snorted. "I have a feeling time is in the hands of his father."

"What do you mean?"

"Doesn't matter. Nothing matters. I don't matter. Hutch doesn't matter. We don't matter." He put his weight into his back as he slid down the wall and back to the floor. "Good night, Captain. Give my regards to Edith and the kids."

"Dave, I'll do what I can. You know that."

"Do I?"

"I hope so, son."

Dobey didn't say another word as he exited the apartment. The door was closed with such care that the latch barely made a noise. Once again Starsky was sitting alone in his darkened apartment, only now his hope of Hutch calling or walking through the door was utterly and painfully gone.

He knew that Hutch remembered most of that night. They'd talked about it in the hospital garden the few times they had a few minutes to themselves. Although they were both missing pieces, once together they were good at putting the puzzle together.

"You should leave."

Those words had cut through Starsky's soul.

"You should leave."

They were meant as a warning… as concern for Starsky's safety, but at this point in rewinding to that night, he only felt misplaced rejection.

"I didn't leave," he said out loud to no one. "Couldn't leave. Can't leave you, Hutch."

"But you paid Helene's nephew, Tony, to watch the place while you've been out all week, right?"

Hutch nodded. "Place hasn't been empty for a minute."

"Did a sweep for bugs?"

"Yep. Nothing."

"See… stop the Worry Train and hop off, babe."

Hutch laughed out loud. "Okay Huggy Bear." He reached out and let the fingertips of his hand barely touch Starsky's elbow as a silent affirmation of understanding. "Tony said he did see a car do slow passes a few times. Basic black four-door sedan. Was out on my run this morning and think I saw the same one. Got a partial on the plate."

"Did you run it?"

"Not yet. Figured I'd wait until tomorrow when Dobey is brought in on this whole thing. Wrote it down though. Pretty sure I'm being watched. That's why I didn't want you coming around."

"Don't worry. I parked around the corner behind that old closed up laundromat."

Hutch took a deep breath, let it out and shoved his hands in his pockets. "You know when we came up with this plan I didn't think it would go this far. Didn't think we were this close to finding out who's taking the drugs from lock-up. It's a lot hotter than we predicted." Hutch nervously shifted his feet back and forth then looked around finally letting his eyes find their way back to his partner. "I said some pretty shitty things to you yesterday."

"It was an act, Hutch. I didn't take it as anything but."

"I just kept digging and digging. Even used your mother…"

"Stop. Just stop." Starsky shook his head and smiled to ease the tension. "You always do this with us. You don't need to take on the guilt. We had to say those things to make people believe we hated each other. I just didn't think we'd get suspended without pay. Guess we threw out too many F-Bombs. Dobey really hates that."

"Yeah, no shit. I've got a car payment due next week."

Starsky snorted as he laughed. "You're… do NOT tell me you took a loan out for that junker."

"Don't start."

"Okay," he relented leaving the jokes for another time. "Look, Hutch, I know we've put our personal life on hold until we get through this case, but I stopped by Renaldo's today and picked these up." Pulling a box out of his pocket, Starsky paused to gauge Hutch's surprised look. "I didn't want to wait and, frankly, I got nothing else to do."

He held out the black box and when Hutch didn't reach for it Starsky opened it himself and took out the two gold ID bracelets.

"The engraving is done?" Hutch asked taking the one with an 'H' on top.

"Yep. Just like we asked. Look." Turning the one over in Hutch's hand he read the inscription out loud. "Love does not delight in evil…."

Hutch took the other gold bracelet topped with an 'S' from the box and turned it over placing it side by side with the other one. "…but rejoices with the truth."

They both kept their heads down mesmerized by the personalized sentiment they had chosen for each other.

"Rejoices with the truth," Starsky repeated. "Seems like the more serious we get, the deeper we hide the truth."

"Don't look at me like that, Starsk. You say it like I'm the only one hiding who we are."

"No. That's not true. The minute the department gets a whiff, we're unemployed. But, ya know, we could tell a select few. At least our families."

Hutch shook his head at the gist of the discussion that had taken place time and time again. "Don't give me that. You haven't told your mother."

"Not yet. I've come close though. And if she asked I wouldn't hide it. You, on the other hand, have been getting more and more creative with the lies to your folks. I'm in the room when you're on the phone with them."

"My dad needs time, you know that. What purpose would it serve to come right out and tell my parents? Mom, Dad," Hutch mocked, "I am so happy to tell you that I am fucking my partner up the ass on a regular basis. Mom, enjoy bridge club. Oh, and die happy, Dad."

"Hutch… don't start." Starsky brought his hand up and gently palmed the side of the blonde's face. "I've missed you all week. Hate staying away from you. I hated pretending to fight with you. I hate that we have to hide US from the world." Dropping the bracelets back in the box and putting it on the bookcase shelf, he took Hutch's face in both hands and gently brought their foreheads together. "And I hate that you are carrying a hundred pounds of guilt in your heart over something that wasn't real."

Hutch felt Starsky's warm breath as it poured onto his cheek followed by a sweep of lips. "I know. I know. I just… I don't want to hurt you."

"You didn't. You haven't, babe."

Hutch's sad eyes finally focused forward and connected with his partner's sky blue orbs. He nodded. Whether Starsky believed the implied understanding was certainly debatable.

"So," Starsky said with a twinkle, "should I call you Mindy or Mandy?"

xXxXxXxX

"He's just not up to seeing anyone, Captain Dobey. I'm sorry you wasted a trip," Richard Hutchinson said as they stood outside on the sidewalk. "Please understand. He's had a shock. He refuses to be in a rehab. Won't let us take him home…"

"With all due respect, Mr. Hutchinson, this is his home."

"Yes, he's said that. But it has become painfully obvious that he has very few friends here. No family."

"I'm here. His fellow officers all care."

"His work colleagues. Yes, that's true, but with the most recent, ah, sensitive information that has come to light, you're the only one to stop by or call. And Mr. Starsky, well, we don't even mention his name. Ken barely talks as it is and if we bring him up he completely shuts down. So we just avoid it."

"He's been home a full week now," Dobey said while still trying to make headway. "The assistant D.A. will want to talk to him soon."

"He won't."

"He'll be ordered by a judge. I'd rather the interview take place with his cooperation and not under force." Dobey took his card out and tried to give it to Richard. "Please call me so we can set something up here or at my office. Or even my home if it would be more comfortable." The card was ignored and returned to the pocket it came from. "Talk to him."

"We've tried, Captain. He just becomes mute. The doctors finally threatened him with a feeding tube if he didn't start eating. Thank God we haven't had to resort to that."

"And tell him… tell him that Starsky is asking about him." Dobey knew this would be treading in deep water, but it needed to be said. "Richard, please tell him. Things don't add up. Starsky would never hurt your son. Being kept from Hutch is killing him."

The elder Hutchinson stood still and looked passed the Captain, almost as though willing this part of the conversation to evaporate.

Captain Dobey had a sudden feeling that something was missing. "Richard, does your son know about the restraining order against David?" Still, the man avoided the topic. "Richard…?"

"We have chosen not to broach the subject with him at this time. He's fragile. Still recovering from his brain injury. The news about the… the evidence … with his lapse in memory some things are just too disturbing for him right now. He can't afford a setback. As far as he knows the suspect in his… his… his attack has no more use for him."

Dobey cringed and pinched the bridge of his nose at the words thrown at Starsky by way of Hutch's overprotective, arrogant father. "I don't think he's as incapacitated as you want him to be." He'd said his piece and it wasn't pretty. Nor was it accepted.

It was a slap in the face. An insult and insinuation of misplaced parenting of which Richard Hutchinson would not admit or concede to. "I'm sorry that keeping my son safe is inconvenient to the animal who raped…" A red faced Richard took a deep breath and tamped down his anger for the moment.

Dobey knew when to back out of a burning building and this one was a 4-alarm fire. But he wasn't going to leave without trying. "Let him know. Please. Tell him that Starsky desperately wants this to end so he can see Ken again."

Richard put his hands behind his back and resumed a proud, if not weary, posture. "Duly noted," he said with about as much worth as a pile of sun dried dog shit.

"Alright then. Please tell him that Edith and I are thinking of him. And," he added as he walked back to his car, "I will keep stopping by until he sees me."

Richard stood on the sidewalk, the reflected heat of the early morning sun rising up to uncomfortably warm his legs, and watched Dobey drive off. All the way back up the stairs to Hutch's apartment he contemplated the now predictable plot of the day. They would suction and clean their son's trach site after his shower. His wife would attempt to get him to eat some sort of breakfast and then be happy with toast and juice. Morning medications. Hutch would nap until lunch when he would watch his parents eat while he picked at the food and eat just enough to ward off criticism. The argument about going to therapy would start off with gentle prodding and end with doors slamming, ice cold glares and no therapy.

They would read the papers – Hutch would pretend to – then the pacing would start. He would wander around the apartment, stop to putter about the plants in the greenhouse where a hospital bed had been placed for him, afternoon meds, then following a nap, he'd start the pacing again until dinner. Another round of Marilyn begging him to eat, evening meds and trach care, then bed. All in silence. Richard figured that his son had shrunk two inches from continuous moped stooping.

"Who was that?" Marilyn asked tightening the sash around her bathrobe. "It's awful early for visitors."

Before Richard could tell her about his conversation with the Captain, Hutch came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

"Was that Starsky?" Hutch asked as he towel dried his hair with his right hand. "Did Starsky stop by?" His left remained at his side, his half useless, ignored hand in an involuntary loose fist.

"Ken, no." Richard sat down on the sofa with his back to his son and pretended to read a book. It was easier to lie that way. "That ship has sailed, son. You need to stop concerning yourself with him. He's not going to call. He won't be stopping by just like every other day since you got back here."

Marilyn walked over to the sofa and shooed Richard's feet off the coffee table. "Who were you talking to out there, dear?"

"Just someone selling magazines."

"They're relentless out here. At least back home no means no. Kenny, let me check the scars on your head. They still look tender."

Hutch waved his mother's hands off as she attempted to part his newly grown back hair and look at the pink scars on his scalp. A dirty look, snap of the head and he was off to get dressed.

"Hurry up dear. It's time to clean your trach. Maybe I can make you a pie today. Would you like that? A pie?"

Pie.

Hutch stood stock still at the entrance to the kitchen, his back to his doting mother and closed his eyes.

Pie.

Starsky said something about pie.

Starsky. He hadn't come over. Hadn't called. It's like he had fallen off the face of the earth or, worse, completely erased Hutch from his life. With everything that had happened – the name calling and secrets – he couldn't blame him.

Pie.

Somehow they had made it to the bed that night. How, Hutch couldn't recall. But he vividly remembered Starsky's face as the curly haired brunette smiled wide and said, "I thought you wanted to play Monopoly, Blintz."

"I suppose I could arrange that. We haven't played in at least a week."

"Been a long, lonely week. I'll play and even take it easy on you."

"Want you to be the Banker, remember?" Hutch said as he nodded to affirm his request. "And I don't want you to take it easy on me."

Joking was put aside as Starsky backed away from his lover and sat cross legged on the bed. "Babe, I don't mind you being Banker. In fact, I love when you take control of… of the currency."

Hutch reached out and took hold of both of Starsky's hands turning them over and stroking the palms with his thumbs. "What does it feel like when I'm inside of you?"

"Feels like… like it's the closest you can ever get to me. I love you so much that sometimes I feel like we're one person. When you're in me we're one." Starsky chuckled. "Sounds corny, but it's true."

"I want to feel that."

Starsky tilted his head and stroked his own thumbs over Hutch's. "Remember when we tried that before? Didn't go well."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't ready. I was scared to death. I'm not now. I want you Starsk. I want you in me. I want you to leave part of yourself inside of me."

Starsky sat motionless staring down at their hands. He was excited about the prospect of turning the tables but hesitant. Very hesitant. "Hutch, I hurt you last time and stopped, really, before we got anywhere. It's still gonna hurt, at least at first."

"I know that. But it's you. I want you inside me."

"Yeah, well not that I'm bragging, mind you, but I'm kind of bigger than you."

"Been measuring in centimeters again?"

Starsky gave a half smile for the joke, then pulled back to serious. "You sure, Hutch? I don't want to hurt you."

"Starsky, you know how you're always telling me I talk too much?"

"Yeah."

"Shut up."

"Hutch, at work you're motivated and driven," Starsky said as he tried to make his case. "Strong when you need to be strong. Convincing, coercive, fast, authoritative. And, God help me, heavy handed and damn near deadly when situations call for it. But when we are… when we make love you are gentle and soft. Slow and caring."

"What's your point, Gordo? I know you have a fantasy. You told me, ya dope."

"Yeah, but…"

Hutch pushed his face into Starsky's space and lowered his voice to a near growl. "You want to take me hard. You want to be in charge and make me almost beg you to stop. Your words."

"Yeah. You forgot the part about us being on a deserted island and tying you between two palm trees. It's a fantasy, babe. Just a fantasy. I don't want to hurt you."

"You keep saying that. Maybe I have a fantasy too."

"It ain't broke, Hutch. What are you trying to fix? I just want to love you. Are you saying that isn't enough for you?"

"No. NO." Hutch grabbed both of Starsky's wrists and held them rather tightly. "I just… Look, after this week, after everything… and, I don't know. I guess I want something different. Need it."

"You need to be treated like that? Aren't you worth more?"

"Okay, Mother Theresa," Hutch said waving Starsky off in surrender, "I'm tired. Gonna take a shower and hit the sack. You can stay or go. Doesn't matter to me."

Hutch looked back at the bed his parents had commandeered – the soft, luscious, cozy of warmth that used to be that which had enveloped him and his private lover in moments of pure, raw and undeniable passion – and saw only… an empty bed.