PART 40

"We're here." Starsky gave his sleeping partner a nudge as he pulled up outside the house he'd grown up in, and where his mother still lived – even now. They'd been travelling for days – deciding to turn the two thousand mile journey into a road trip – and sharing the driving between them. The last leg of their journey had been a three hour drive, and although the partners had agreed to share the load in the end Starsky had driven the whole way. Hutch's health had improved greatly throughout the course of the past few weeks – he was eating better, and consequently growing in strength – but he still hadn't felt up to flying and his spleen was still slightly enlarged. Despite this it had been decided that now that Starsky was well on the road to recovery and Hutch was a little stronger the best thing for both of them would be to get out of the city for a while, and Starsky's mother was still understandably anxious to have her son and Hutch stay with her for a while.

The conversation which had seen the two men agree to share the driving had mainly consisted of Hutch's insisting that he was well enough to manage a few days on the road, even if he wasn't yet up to facing five hours in an aeroplane, and Starsky nodding non-commitently to everything he'd said, but the sad truth was that, although undeniably stronger, Hutch was still far from alright.

His rundown partner had consequently struggled much more with the long journey than they'd initially considered, and he'd fallen asleep half an hour into the final leg of the drive. Starsky hadn't had the heart to wake him – even as they'd passed the agreed change over point. He'd found it a little anxiety provoking that Hutch had continued to sleep for the remainder of the three hour journey – not even stirring once – but he woke easily enough after a gentle nudge from Starsky.

"What, is it change over?" Hutch asked groggily as he opened his tired eyes – which still appeared slightly sunken and heavy – and wiped a small amount of drool from the side of his mouth.

"No, we're here!" The curly haired brunette reiterated with a smile – which became a gigantic lopsided grin as the front door flew open and the figure of Rachel Starsky hurried out to meet them. She was only a slight woman – which Hutch had always found quite surprising given the fact that Starsky never seemed to stop talking about his mother's cooking – but what she lacked in frame she certainly made up for in personality. Nobody could help but notice her when she walked into a room – she was a no nonsense lady with a quick wit, but a kind heart – and everybody loved her for it.

Hutch looked around – taking in the rundown neighbourhood in which Starsky had grown up – as Rachel Starsky approached.

"Hi mom." Starsky beamed as he climbed out of the driver's side door, and Hutch smiled as she threw her arms around her son. Starsky pulled her close to him and the two stood, wrapped in each other's embrace for a moment, before Hutch joined them.

"He's lost weight." Rachel Starsky observed sadly, once the initial reunion over – and Hutch too had received the obligatory hug of welcome – and her son nodded as together they watched Hutch make his way slowly up the path towards the front door. He was a little stronger now than he had been, but still quite weak, and whilst Starsky could see the enormous strides his best friend had made over the past few weeks, it was quite a shock to his mother to see Hutch struggling under the weight of the two suitcases he'd insisted on carrying. Starsky noticed him stumble, and instinctively took a step towards him, despite the fact that he was too far away from Hutch to be of much use if he tripped – but at that moment Nicky appeared at the front door to take one of the cases from him, and Hutch deposited the other in the hall. Starsky observed his stiff gait with a modicum of concern, and wondered if he was in pain or just simply tired. His brother smiled, greeting Hutch warmly as he shook him by the hand and clapped him gently on the shoulder. According to Rachel Starsky Nicky had finally managed to turn his life around and had kept himself out of trouble since returning home from his visit to Bay City. He'd managed to get himself a respectable job as a security guard, and had finally moved out of his childhood home and into a place of his own a few months ago. His apartment was small. There were apparently only three rooms to speak of – a bedroom, a bathroom, and a sitting room which doubled as a dining room, with a built in kitchen, but it was big enough for a single man, and was in a respectable enough neighbourhood.

"Well, I hope you're both hungry." She smiled. "You timed your arrival well, lunch is almost ready. There's homemade soup and fresh bread, and I've baked lemon meringue pie for afterwards."

"Well, you know me mom, I could eat a hungry horse." Starsky grinned, feeling the pangs of his empty stomach, and realising that he really was rather hungry. They'd made plans to leave the motel very early that morning to make a start on the remaining few hours drive ahead of them, but things hadn't panned out that way. Hutch had insisted on doing most of the driving the day before, and it had evidently taken it out of him as he'd clearly been exhausted by the time his head had hit the pillow the previous evening. Starsky hadn't had the heart to wake him that morning. The budget motel breakfast had left a lot to be desired, and he'd sat and eaten his food in silence as he'd let Hutch sleep in. Eventually he'd switched the television on quietly. The reception had been poor and the sound barely audible, but not wanting to disturb his sleeping partner he'd sat and starred at the silent pictures on the screen, until it had eventually dawned on him that Hutch wasn't showing any signs of waking up of his own accord, and he'd realised that he was going to have to be the one to wake him. He'd roused him gently and had made sure that he'd eaten some breakfast before they'd set off that morning. Hutch was both doing and feeling a lot better, and Doctor Mabrouk was very pleased with his progress. Even so Starsky understood better than anyone the importance that he didn't push himself too hard too soon, and he knew that there was a very real danger that as Hutch started to feel better he might easily overestimate what he was able to manage – the day before being a perfect example of this. They'd passed a number of rest stops along the way, but Starsky had wanted to let Hutch sleep, and hadn't wanted to risk disturbing him by stopping.

"I'm not sure about Hutch though." He explained to her. "He still doesn't have much of an appetite, but he's getting there slowly."

"How's he doing?" She asked him, indicating towards the open front doorway through which Hutch had disappeared.

"A bit better." Starsky told her. "The anti-biotics are still taking it out of him." He explained. "But the doctors are pleased with his progress."

"He's still on antibiotics?" Rachel Starsky asked her son, concerned.

"Low dose." Starsky nodded. "Apparently there's no obvious signs of infection but they're concerned that his white blood cell count is still elevated, and he's still getting intermittent low grade fevers." He explained. "They say he probably didn't recover completely from the first infection from the slash in his wrist. Doctors say that some of the bacteria probably spread to his blood. His lungs have always been a little weaker since his brush with the plague. Even though he made a full recovery he's had a few chest infections since."

"He's had it tough, hasn't he?" She sighed sadly, looking up at her son. Starsky nodded.

"Yeah, he has." He said, looking in the direction of the front door, through which Hutch had disappeared. He thought about the weeks and months his best friend had suffered through, alone, and wondered for how long he'd been ailing before anyone had noticed? It wasn't a subject they'd ever touched upon, although in hindsight the warning signs had been there. The first infection in his wrist had been bad. Although Starsky had still been too ill at the time to remember the incident he knew it had been enough to cause Marion and Doctor Mabrouk some concern, and he didn't think he would ever forget the night Huggy had set the sprinkler system off in his room – he'd been much stronger by then and more aware of his surroundings. Even so he felt as though he'd spent weeks in a drug induced haze, only to wake up one day and look at Hutch and realise how much weight he'd lost, and just how ill he looked.

"Well, we'll have to feed him up whilst he's here." Starsky's mom smiled warmly as she wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer to her. Starsky smiled back at her and returned her embrace, feeling as her arms tightened around him and his stomach muscles tensed to resist the anticipated squeeze. Physically he had made a near complete recovery, but the scar tissue he'd been left with from both the initial attack and the surgery was still tender and would take much longer to heal. The expected squeeze never came however, and his mother's hand came gently to rest upon his stomach where one of Gunther's bullets had ripped through him and torn through his liver. It lingered there for a just a moment, as she felt the warmth of her son's body beneath her palm, before she started to lead him towards the house. Starsky wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

The house wasn't very big – so small in fact that even now with Nicky gone there still wasn't enough space for her to rattle around inside of it on her own. It was much more suited to a single occupant than to a family – especially one with two young and boisterous boys – but to Starsky it had been home, and the only one he had ever known until his move to Bay City. It's small rooms were spread across two levels with an open plan sitting room and separate kitchen downstairs, and three small bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs. There was also a basement, and they'd been lucky as children because the house also had a back yard – which was longer than it was wide – with a patch of grass at the end of it. Not all houses in the neighbourhood had had one of these, and Starsky remembered that he and Nicky had used to mark out goal posts with jumpers either end, and play soccer or basketball most evenings after school. Starsky smiled at the memory. The truth was that his and Nicky's relationship hadn't always been strained, as children they had been as close as it was possible for two brothers to be, but their relationship had never been the same following their father's death and after their mother had sent Starsky away to live in Bay City. The night before he'd left for his first trip they'd sat together on Starsky's bed talking. They'd promised that no matter how far apart they may be they'd always be there for each other, just as brothers aught, and Starsky had made Nicky promise him that he would be good, and help their mother. With all the innocence of a small child who did not fully understand the situation, the little boy had responded by telling him that he would.

Starsky hadn't known it then, but those precious moments would be the last they spent together before things had soured between them. He'd been fifteen when their father had been killed, Nicky had only been seven. Initially they'd written to each other every day, and then several times a week, but this was a pace which could not be maintained, and the draw of Bay City and the excitement of everything it had to offer had been too much for a teenage Starsky. He'd neglected to respond to a few of his little brother's letters, and he'd known the next time he saw him that things between them had changed.

The last time Nicky had visited him, he'd told him that he'd never been there for him – and it pained Starsky to confess that there was indeed a truth in this statement, even if the accusation had been made in a burst of temper. Perhaps he was no more guilty than any other older sibling trying to make their way in the world, and in the process inadvertently leaving a younger brother or sister behind, but there was no getting away from the fact that as a big brother there had been a time when he'd let Nicky down.

He was glad that they'd managed to reconcile their differences in recent months, even if he'd had to accept that their relationship would never be what it once was.

When they entered they found Hutch sitting on the couch. Nicky could be heard in the kitchen, clattering around as he got the lunch ready and laid the table for all four of them – Starsky could tell how happy his mother was to have her two sons home again, and on much better terms than they had been the last time they'd met.

"You feeling alright?" Starsky asked Hutch, as he sat down beside his partner.

"Yeah. Just tired." Hutch nodded, and smiled – although the smile appeared to be somewhat forced, and Starsky noticed that his eyes appeared rather dark, and his cheeks somewhat flushed.

Starsky's mother cupped Hutch's cheek gently in her hand, smiling down at him affectionately.

"You've had it tough." She commented gently. "I can see it in your eyes."

"I'm alright Rachel." Hutch smiled, and she responded with a warm smile of her own. Her face lit up kindly, as she placed her one raised hand gently on his shoulder and he reached up to squeeze it tenderly. He then turned his smile towards Starsky beside him, who grinned back at him.

"You will be when you've got some lunch inside of you." She smiled. "We've got homemade soup and bread, so I hope that you're hungry."

"Actually Rachel," Hutch nodded, seemingly to his own surprise, "I am a bit."

This was music to Starsky's ears. He hadn't heard Hutch say that he was hungry for such a long time – and the thought occurred to him that this trip might just turn out to be exactly what they had both needed.

Hutch had been on the receiving end of Rachel Starsky's cooking many times before, and it hadn't felt disloyal to his own mother to give her the accolade of the best cook that he knew. It wasn't that she was a bad cook, but his own mother had never been one to tie herself to the kitchen, and growing up the meals she had prepared for her family had always been quick and simple. Rachel Starsky poured her heart and her soul and all of her love for her family into her cooking, and food in the Starsky household was a real social affair, with the kitchen at the heart of the house. In all the years he had known Starsky he didn't think his mother had ever prepared a dish that he hadn't liked, and it was hard not to feel the unfamiliar pangs of hunger return now as the smell of her cooking drifted in from the kitchen. Her soups were some of his favourites, and she baked the most delicious loaves of bread – in fact Hutch considered that she was just as good a baker as she was a cook.

"That's just what I like to hear." She said, her smile widening. "Lunch is almost ready. You can take a seat at the table if you like."

Perhaps it wouldn't be quite as hard to build him up as she'd expected she thought to herself as she watched Starsky help Hutch to his feet. He seemed to be having a little trouble of his own – probably tired himself after the long drive – and she made a move towards the two men to help, but at that moment Nicky popped his head around the door from the adjoining kitchen, and observing his older brother's struggle he made his way over, hooking an arm gently around the small of Hutch's back and helping him to stand. Starsky kept one hand on his friend's stomach and another on his back to help balance him, until he had steadied himself on his feet. Her son had given her a list of some of Hutch's favourite foods, and Rachel intended to feed him up whilst she had the chance.

She then watched as the blonde followed Nicky slowly into the kitchen, and reached up to kiss her eldest son gently on the cheek.

"I can't tell you how happy I am that you were both finally able to make this trip." She told him. "It's going to be so nice to have you here."

"I know mom." He smiled, bending down to peck her on the forehead in return. He knew how much their visit meant to her. It had been hard for her, to be so far away from him whilst he'd been in the hospital. She'd booked herself onto the first flight out of New York as soon as Captain Dobey had called to inform her of what had happened to her son, but it had been a couple of days before she'd been able to get to California. She'd told him later that she'd known as soon as she'd heard Dobey's voice on the other end of the phone that something serious had happened – because she knew that Hutch would have called her himself if he could. He had initially been too traumatised to speak to anyone – needing a lot of support from his friend's himself to get him through the difficult first twenty-four hours – and the Captain had thought it best and kindest that he handle speaking to Starsky's mother given the circumstances. By the time she had arrived at the hospital Starsky had already regained consciousness and Gunther had been safely behind bars. Hutch had clearly been exhausted, but true to form he had played the diligent host, not letting on how much he was hurting, and making sure that Rachel had everything she needed. The time she'd been allowed to spend with her son had been limited, and whilst Starsky's medical team had made an exception for Hutch being there outside of normal visiting hours, this wasn't a courtesy they'd extended to the rest of his friends or family. She had spent a few weeks in Bay City, staying in a hotel close to the hospital so that she could be close to her son and Hutch had picked her up every morning and dropped her back every day, but Starsky knew that being so far away had been hard for her once she had had to return home.

Starsky's hand reached up to lightly brush his ribs with his fingers – the muscle there was still very sore, but it was only when he overexerted himself nowadays that he felt it. It was easy to forget that his own body still hadn't completely healed, and he'd had to come to terms with the fact that it would probably never be the same as it had once been. He wouldn't be able to run quite as fast, and he'd always be a little physically weaker. His peace of mind had been shattered and he would always be more conscious about his safety – as would Hutch. He suspected that they would both probably spend more time looking over their shoulders from now on, but that didn't mean that they had to let it beat them. There was always a choice.

He followed his mother into the kitchen, where Hutch and Nicky were already seated at the dining table, and as the four of them ate their lunch there was a cacophony of conversation. Starsky wanted to know all about Nicky's new job, and arrangements were made for him to pay his younger brother a visit to check out his new apartment the following day. To Starsky's delight Hutch managed to polish off a whole bowl of soup and a slice of bread, although he politely declined his portion of the lemon meringue pie when it was offered to him. After lunch Nicky had to leave for work, but he helped to carry the two men's cases upstairs before he left, where his mother had already made up two beds – one for Hutch in her youngest son's old room, whilst Starsky found himself back in his own childhood bedroom. The sheets smelt enticingly fresh – Hutch was clearly still exhausted, and Starsky hadn't realised just how tired he was himself after spending two days on the road until his mother knowingly suggested that a nap might not be a bad idea after their long drive. He fell asleep almost immediately, as soon as his heat hit the pillow, and when he next awoke it was dark outside. Hutch was still sleeping peacefully, and he was quite happy to let him remain that way until dinner.

The next two weeks turned out to be just the break that the two men had needed, as with each new day they found that they talked and laughed more than they had done since before the shooting. Thanks to Rachel's excellent cooking Hutch found his appetite slowly returning, and he managed to eat more than Starsky had seen him eat in weeks. A few days into their stay Starsky went out with Nicky and a few of his friends for the afternoon, whilst Hutch, who said that he was feeling tired, opted to remain close to the house for the day. In truth he felt that it would be good for Starsky and his brother to spend some time together – the last time they had been left alone in the same room as each other had been during Nicky's stay in Bay City a couple of months before the shooting, and things between them at the time hadn't been particularly amicable. Hutch didn't mind, he enjoyed Rachel's company, her warmth was palpable, and he joined her on a walk around the neighbourhood where she took great joy in pointing out all of the landmarks from Starsky's childhood, and reminiscing about the past – his old school, the park where both of her boys had acquired no end of bruises and grazed knees. When they came to the street corner where Starsky's father had been fatally shot and killed Hutch stiffened as this particular memory still struck raw and a little too close to home. He had always known what had happened to his partner's father – Starsky had told him in the early days of their training, when they had been at the academy together, but he hadn't been privy to the finer details. It had been a particularly painful chapter in his friend's life, and even now he didn't like to talk much about the day his father had died. Even so Hutch had always assumed that it had happened in the city, and he hadn't realised that it had occurred in the suburbs, so close to home the man had shared with his wife and two sons. Rachel had looked like she had wanted to say more on the subject, but noticing Hutch's reaction she hadn't pursued the matter further, and the two of them had continued on in the direction of the local convenience store.

When they'd returned home they'd eaten a light lunch of sandwiches which Rachel had prepared whilst Hutch had put away the groceries they had brought.

"So tell me, how are you really doing now Ken?" She asked him kindly, as they both stood at the kitchen sink doing the washing up an hour later. Her hands, clad in brightly coloured marigold gloves, were submerged deep in the soapy water.

"Me?" He smiled up at her sadly, tea towel in one hand as he paused in the act of drying the plate in his other. "Oh, I'm alright." He told her. He hadn't banked on having this conversation now, and part of him hoped that she might be pacified enough with his response to drop the subject – but it seemed that she could not be fooled.

"Honestly Ken?" She pressed him gently, dripping water as she turned to look at him, and taking her gloves off and placing them down on the draining board as she held him in her scrutinizing gaze. "You still seem a little quiet." She commented knowingly, evidently not taken in by his pretence. "Come on, you know you don't have to hide in front of me, and Davey's going to be out for the rest of the day, if I know my boys. This is your time to talk now."

Hutch sighed, swallowing past the hard lump in his throat which still returned every time he tried to talk about what had happened. It was like trying to speak around a huge rock, which hurt and brought tears to his eyes – but Starsky's mother had a way about her, which could get anyone to open up to her and make them talk without them even realising. By the time it had occurred to them what they were saying they had already opened their heart to her, and Hutch had often considered that she would have made a good interrogator.

"Honestly Rachel, I still feel like I let him down." He confessed, with a slight shake of his head, her eyes boring warmly into his. "It doesn't seem to matter which way I look at it, it doesn't change the fact that I wasn't there for Starsky when he needed me."

"But you were Ken." She implored him, cupping his cheek gently in the palm of her hand. "I know you can't see it, but you've got to try and stop beating yourself up about something which wasn't your fault." She told him with a small smile, which was both disarming and full of love and understanding for the man in front of her as she carefully took the towel and plate from his hands and squeezed them gently in her own. She noticed how cold they were, and led him gently by the hand back into the sitting room, where she sat down on the couch and patted the seat next to her, inviting him to join her. Hutch did as she requested.

"The truth is that you can't be expected to be able to help someone when you are in need of help yourself." She said gently. "At least most people can't." She added as if in afterthought. "I know that you and my Davey are not like most people. I would go so far as to say that the friendship you both have is extraordinary, and I know that you don't realise it but you nearly killed yourself by trying to protect my son. That kind of loyalty Ken can't be brought with all the money in this world… but, in the end, something has to give."

She sighed sadly, and Hutch sat and listened to what she had to say as she continued – giving her the courtesy of his whole attention. "I remember the day David's father was killed on the streets – the pain, the gaping hole his loss left in my heart." She explained. "I tried to hold things together – I had two young boys to support – but I'd just lost my best friend, my soul mate. In the end I couldn't cope with both of them… I couldn't protect them both from the criminal element who had taken their father away from them. As the sons of a police officer they were even more vulnerable than the other kids on the street… that's when I made the painful decision to send Davey away to live with his aunt and uncle in Bay City.

"I felt so guilty, I felt as though I had failed him as a mother, and that feeling stayed with me for a very long time – at least until he enrolled in the police academy there. But I know now that I made the right decision, because it led him to you, and there isn't anyone I would trust more to keep my son safe out there on those streets." She said, gesticulating towards the street outside through the open sitting room window.

"When he was a boy, little more than ten years old, he watched his father get shot. He survived it that time, but it was after that that David decided that he wanted to become a police officer." She recalled. "He knew the risks, he knew that his father had been shot because he was a cop, but David decided that he wanted to stop what he called 'the bad guys' from hurting anymore innocent people. I blamed myself for a very long time after that. I knew how dangerous law enforcement was, and the last thing I wanted was for Davey to follow in his father's footsteps."

"Then what changed your mind?" Hutch asked her.

"You." She told him, smiling at the expression on Hutch's face.

"Me?" Hutch said – somewhat taken aback by the older woman's revelation. He looked at her astonished, and there was a vaguely puzzled frown creasing his forehead. She wiped away the tears which had welled in her eyes as she had relived the painful loss of her husband and recalled the story of how her son had decided that he wanted to become a police officer.

"Yes you Ken," she nodded, "because to hear the way my Davey spoke about you and to see the way you look out for him… the way you look out for each other. I knew that I had made the right decision to send him away to Bay City. If he had stayed… if he had enrolled with the force here, then he would never have met you…"

She smiled.

"None of us can know what the future holds, I can't stop happening to Davey what happened to his father. What happened with Gunther wasn't your fault Ken, but if anything does ever happen to my son I will always be sure of one thing – it won't be because of you. Just like I know that if it had been you who took Gunther's bullets that day instead of my son it wouldn't have been any easier on David seeing you lying in that hospital bed, and he would have died to save you had it been."

Hutch smiled meekly at this, thinking of Starsky, and of all the times they had been there for each other over the years. A few names sprang to mind – Monk, Forest, Joey Martin and Sammy Grovner, Vic Humphries, Professor Jennings, Vic Bellamy, Dianna Harmon, Thomas Callendar – the list seemed endless, and any one of them might have succeeded in ending the life of one of them, if each hadn't had the other looking out for them. Hutch knew that he wouldn't be alive today if it wasn't for Starsky – but none of these men and women had come as close to hurting them as much as James Gunther.

"Being a police officer is all my Davey has ever wanted to be – well, that and a train driver." She chuckled, thinking about her little boy playing with his train sets and dreaming of driving a real one someday. There had once been a time when she would have given anything for this childhood dream to have persisted into adulthood.

"I've seen how hard the two of you have worked over the years," she told him, "and I would hate to see you give that up because of one man!" She said, reaching over to take his hand gently within her own and giving it a warm squeeze.

When she looked up she noticed that he had tears in his eyes too. He didn't seem to know what to say to what she had just told him and as he slowly blinked liquid cascaded over his eyelids and trickled down his pale cheeks. There was a spasm in his chest and he bit down hard on his lip to try and stem the flow he could feel welling up inside of him – tasting a slight metallic tang as he bit down a little too hard on soft flesh and drew blood, which mixed with his saliva and flowed over his tongue. He was touched by her words, and opened his mouth to try and tell her as much, but when he tried to speak the only sound which escaped him was a strangled whimper – he swallowed hard, doing his best to compose himself. He didn't want to let himself break down, especially in front of her – if he did he didn't know if he was going to be able to piece himself back together again.

Realising that Hutch wasn't going to allow himself to cry in front of her Rachel Starsky pulled him into a disarming embrace – hugging him to her and holding him tight. She could feel his ragged breath tickle her neck as he struggled to contain his sorrow.

"It's OK." She whispered softly in his ear. "It's time to let it go Ken."

With these words she felt his chest hitch against hers, and his grip on her tightened as he squeezed her gently – gripping onto her as though she were a beacon in a rough and choppy sea. He was starting to lose his grip on his composure.

The first sob finally escaped him, followed by another and a succession of pain filled whimpers, until he was crying freely into her shoulder. Rachel rubbed his back soothingly as a mother might to try and soothe an inconsolable child, whispering comforting words into his ear.

"That's it." She reassured him, glad that he was finally releasing all of the pent-up pain of the past few weeks. He had been holding onto his sorrow for far too long.

"You just let it all out." Her word's echoed Starsky's to him on the night of Gillian's murder, and it made his heart clench even more. "It's going to be alright.".

Hutch only wished that he could believe her on that score, but he knew that he at least wanted to try.

The next morning when the two men awoke Starsky sensed that there was something different about his partner.

"How did you sleep?" He asked him as they sat down at the table in the kitchen together to eat their breakfast. Starsky's mother had left early that morning to run errands. Part of her secret to her great cooking was that she went out shopping almost every day to acquire fresh ingredients, and she had a chicken stew planned for their dinner that evening which warranted an early morning visit to the butchers and the vegetable market – but she had left blueberry pancakes for them both on the counter, covered by a gingham towel to keep them fresh. Starsky had arrived home late the previous evening, having accompanied Nicky and a few of his friends to their favourite bar – where he had initially met with some flack from the group of rowdy young men for not drinking alcohol, until his brother had put them in their place. By the time he had arrived home his mother had already retired to bed, and he could tell that Hutch had been too tired for talk. He had seemed quiet, but not unnervingly so.

"Good." Hutch told him – for the first time in a long time he looked genuinely refreshed as he tucked into the pancake on the plate Starsky handed to him.

"No bad dreams?" His best friend pressed him, not entirely convinced but relieved to see him at least looking a little more refreshed than he had done in weeks. There was a little more healthy colour to his cheeks and he didn't look quite as pale.

"No bad dreams." Hutch responded. He still had a long way to go, but there was no trace of the usual heaviness around his eyes which the curly haired brunette had come to associate with the weeks of bad dreams and broken sleep which his friend had had to endure – shouldering his burden alone.

"What changed?" Starsky asked curiously, piling pieces of pancake and syrup onto his own fork, as Hutch smiled.

"Well, something your mom said to me yesterday actually." The blonde confessed. "I finally figured you were right Starsk. I can't carry on the way I have been… if I do then Gunther really has won, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let that happen. Nobody knows what tomorrow holds, but I'm here today, and you're here, and that's all that really matters."

Starsky couldn't conceal his joy at hearing these words from his partner, and there were tears in his eyes as he smiled back at him across the kitchen table. He wasn't naive enough to believe that a few gentle words and a little kindness from his mother would be enough to put right all of the wrong that Gunther had done – the hurt ran far too deep for that – but whatever she had said seemed to have had the desired effect on Hutch, and for the first time in a long time Starsky could see in his eyes that he was starting to see a way through what had happened. He was proud of him – the way that Hutch had battled against his own demons and declining physical heath to ensure that he had given Starsky the very best of himself even when he had been struggling had been a truly selfless act, and even now when he had so little of himself left to give, he was continuing to fight. Neither man wanted to give Gunther the satisfaction of beating them – perhaps individually he might have had a chance, but their strength lay in each other.

The final week of their trip went by quickly. Hutch continued to take things easy, but with each new day Starsky sensed that he was growing in strength, and he too felt his bones reinvigorated with a renewed energy. The aches and pains which had plagued his broken body since the shooting didn't seem to bother him as much as they had done. There was a joy creeping back into their lives, and the next time Starsky went out with his brother Hutch had joined them. Rachel Starsky had fussed over and mothered her son, and taken full advantage of the time they had spent together.

Their final evening in New York came too quickly for both of them. The weather had been unusually pleasant for the time of year, and Nicky had joined the three of them for their first dinner – mirroring the lunch they had all shared together on the pair's first day. The encroaching evening had reduced the sky to a clear grey – perhaps reflecting the slight sadness in their hearts – but there was a mild breeze blowing and Rachel Starsky had opened the French windows facing out onto the back of the house so that they could enjoy the garden. Hutch especially appeared to appreciate this.

"I just wanted to thank you Rachel." He sighed as Starsky's mother approached and reached out a gentle hand to touch him reassuringly on the arm – he had made his way to the furthest point of the garden and had been standing on the small patch of grassy turf staring up at the starless sky. He turned to her with tears in his eyes, and she smiled. "The past two weeks have been… well… it's been good." He said, turning his head away – not wanting to let the woman see his tears as he failed to stem their fall. "I don't think I've seen Starsky look anywhere near so happy since the shooting." He said. "It's done him no end of good to be back home with you all again."

"And you?" She pressed him.

"Me?" Hutch turned to her, seemingly surprised by her question. But Rachel Starsky simply smiled, and nodded.

"Well…" He faltered, unsure how to respond to this unexpected turn the conversation had taken. "I… I don't think I realised how much I needed to get away from it all until now." He told her. "I tried… I tried once before, and look where it got me. But it was different then, I was alone, and I didn't have Starsky with me. I wanted to protect him. He was still recovering himself, he didn't need the added burden of looking after me, it should have been my job to take care of him. But in the end all I succeeded in doing was hurting us both even more. It's been nice to be able to forget what happened, if only for a little while. He's safe, and happy here… to be honest I don't really want to go back."

"Well Kenneth, you know that neither of you have to do anything that you don't really want to do." She told him. "You both have a choice, you don't have to go back. You could choose to call it a day, to end it all here, to leave the police force, and nobody would blame you for it after everything you've both been through, but I know my Davey. That's not what he wants, and deep down I know you don't really want that either Kenneth. I can see it in your eyes, you don't really want to leave everything you and Davey have worked for. You have a life back in Bay City, a life you once loved. You have to prove to them all out there that you're not beaten, that you're not afraid of their bullets anymore. But most important of all you have to prove it to yourself."

"But I am afraid." Hutch confessed to her. "I am afraid Rachel, but worst of all I just don't know if there'll ever come a time when I don't feel afraid anymore, and that alone scares me even more."

"You just have to take things one step at a time." She reassured him. "There's no shame in admitting that its difficult Ken, but there can be no substitute for just getting back out there."

"But what do you want Rachel?" Hutch asked her.

"Like any other mother I want what's best for my son." Rachel Starsky replied. "I want him to be safe, but I also want him to be happy, and I don't want to ever be the one to stand in the way of what he wants."

Hutch smiled, and looked back up the path – towards Starsky and his brother. They were sitting on the front porch together in the swinging seat. Nick had been something of a teenage tearaway in his younger days, but seemed to have sorted himself out now, and it was nice to see the two of them laughing together.

He sighed, and shook his head.

"I don't know Rachel," He said as he rubbed the back of his neck wearily, and tried to massage some of the tension out of his shoulders, "I don't know what's going to happen once we get back to Bay City tomorrow. At the moment I'm finding it hard to foresee a time when I will ever feel safe out on those streets again. Starsky and I have made too many enemies. Too many people want us dead, and it's bound to only be a matter of time before someone else tries something like this again. But I'll tell you something, it's been a huge weight off my mind to see Starsky do something other than worry about me these past couple of weeks."

"You should be kinder on yourself Ken." She told him softly. "You've been ill too, you mustn't forget that."

Hutch nodded sadly. He realised that his struggle wasn't over yet – neither was Starsky's. Nor would it be until after the trial and Gunther had been locked away for good. Their case was solid, the evidence conclusive, and the man was going to be charged for much more than the attempted murder of two Bay City police officers – even so Hutch was not looking forward to it. As soon as they got home they would both be expected to help wrap up the case – tie up any loose ends to ensure that the man didn't get off on any unforeseen technicalities. It scared him – but Captain Dobey had already reassured him that he had assigned someone else to take care of the witness reports and associated evidence related to Starsky's shooting, and the attempt on his life in the hospital parking lot. He'd been relieved by this, as he didn't think he could face having to read through the police reports and looking at the crime scene photographs from that day, he may have had a temporary reprieve the night of his conversation with Starsky's mother, but the nightmares had since returned – albeit a little less graphic than they had been before.

He didn't think he would ever be able to thank Rachel Starsky for everything she had done. He was really going to miss her – and he knew that it went without saying that Starsky would too.

The evening was drawing in and growing colder – there was a bitter chill developing in the air – and as Rachel turned to look back in the direction of the house she observed that her sons had disappeared. Turning back to him she noticed Hutch shiver.

"Come on." She said gently. "It's getting cold. Let's go and see what my two boys are getting up to."

He smiled sadly and nodded as he followed her back up the garden path towards the house – feeling every step as though someone had tied cinder blocks around his ankles. It was at that moment that he remembered something his own grandmother had used to say – being brave wasn't about having no fear. It was about being afraid but doing what you had to do in the face of it anyway. It was a fitting sentiment and one Hutch had done his best to live his life by. Nearly losing Starsky had almost changed all of that – it had broken him – and the thought of having to face the rest of his life without his best friend had been unthinkable, but as he made his way back into the house and saw his partner sitting on the couch next to his brother, laughing, he realised that he didn't have to. Starsky was still here, and so was he – Gunther hadn't succeeded in breaking them. Despite everything that had been stacked against them they had faced him, and won.

What happened on the next stage of this journey was up to them – and they would decide on that together.