Implosion

by Zebra 3 and Me

Huggy's was abuzz with the music and conversation of the noontime crowd when he carried Starsky and Hutch's orders over to them: Starsky a plate of ravioli; Hutch a bowl of clam chowder.

"What to drink?" Huggy asked them.

"Cherry cola," Starsky answered.

"Cream soda," Hutch replied.

Starsky looked around Huggy's shoulder, toward a strawberry blonde waitress who was picking up a loaded tray.

"Who's the new one?"

"Bettina."

"She available?"

"Why don't you ask her?"

"I think I will."

Huggy turned to get the drinks, when a little boy about seven wearing a pick in his hair ran in through the back door, an expression of alarm on his face.

"Huggy!" he yelled in a pant, pointing toward the back door. "I think there's a bomb out there!"

Even before Huggy yelled "Everybody out!" a confusion of bodies erupted as customers ran for the front door in a panic, some yelling, some shoving, some crying.

The kid turned and ran toward the back door again; Starsky chasing after him.

"Benny, don't!"

Hutch grabbed after the back of his partner's jacket-"Wait! Call the bomb squad!"-but the leather slipped through his fingers.

Starsky was out the door after the boy.

"Starsky!"

Hutch started after him, but Huggy hopped over the bar and struggled to hold back the adrenaline-charged blond.

"Hutch, no!"

The blast outside turned Hutch to stone for an instant in Huggy's grip; then both of them ran toward the back door, Huggy yelling, "Diane! Call for help!" over his shoulder.

The back door and frame were blown away, as was part of the building and the concrete steps at the back door across the alley.

When they ran outside, they found Starsky lying unconscious on his side amongst the concrete rubble, broken crates, dented dumpster, and tiny fragments of the bomb. His face was burned and littered with small cuts; parts of his clothing singed.

Benny was huddled at the entrance of the alley, arms over his head.

"Starsk," Hutch whispered as he took his jacket off and crouched down to cover him with trembling hands.

A small crowd, some from the restaurant, some from nearby shops and residences, started to gather at the entrance of the alley where Benny still huddled.

Huggy squeezed Hutch's shoulder, then trotted down to the boy, picked him up, and carried him back to where Hutch was still crouched next to Starsky with fingers staying on the pulse in his throat.

Face white, Hutch looked around for the possibility of a second bomb.

The boy hid his face in Huggy's shoulder, his voice strained with tears and emotion.

"He pushed me out of the way, Huggy. I'm sorry. I don't want to get in trouble."

Huggy patted Benny's back.

"You didn't do nothing wrong, boy. Don't worry about it."

The sound of an ambulance filled the air as Hutch looked up at the boy.

"Did you see anyone leaving the alley?"

The boy took a quivering breath, then nodded.

"Yeah. I saw a man set the bomb down. Then he left on a motorcycle."

Benny was checked out at the curb by the paramedics and it was determined that he was shaken but okay.

Hutch rode with Starsky to the hospital, and had Dobey arrange for Benny to talk to a sketch artist and look at some mug books when his aunt brought him to the squad room.

The boy described a white man wearing "army clothes and boots".

By the time the ambulance reached Memorial's emergency room, three more bombs had been set off, all outside or inside businesses owned by African Americans in the same neighborhood.

Captain Dobey arrived at the hospital to find Hutch pacing the hall just outside the emergency room.

Starsky wasn't the only bombing victim being tended to. Four others were also here.

"What do the doctors say, Hutch?"

Hutch couldn't speak. He could only move his head back and forth in a negative gesture.

"Homemade bombs," Dobey told him. "All of them. The boy gave a description and looked at the mug books, but so far nothing has turned up. We're trying to work it through the motorcycle and DMV now, and we're putting his sketch on the air. No record that we can find. This guy was obviously clean until this. Military or demolition experience, clearly."

Hands on his hips, Hutch blinked down at the floor with teary eyes.

Dobey went on.

"Five dead so far today. Racially motivated, and people are panicking. I've got every available man on it, so you stay here. ATF and Explosives is involved, and we have plenty of people to cover it. I'll keep you informed. Let me know when you hear word about him."

Hutch nodded, still looking down.

Dobey gave his shoulder a brief squeeze, then walked out of the hospital.

Huggy reached Hutch just as Dr. Turner was coming to talk to him about Starsky.

"He's very lucky," the doctor said to Hutch, who stood with his back against the wall, hands in his pockets. "No internal injuries, and he will survive. But the damage to his eyes, well…it's too early to say whether that will be permanent or not."

Hutch's voice was hauntingly quiet.

"When can I see him?"

"He's sedated. Pain medication. Perhaps in the morning. Unless you just want to look in on him…"

Hutch nodded that he did.

"Fine," Dr. Turner said. "A nurse will let you know when we move him to his own room."

Hutch nodded, but took the doctor's arm as he turned to go back to the emergency room.

"How are the others?"

Dr. Turner looked from Huggy to Hutch.

"They didn't make it."

As the doctor turned and left them, Huggy put a hand on Hutch's shoulder.

"Come on. Let's get some coffee."

They walked down the hall, Hutch shoving a medical cart into the wall as he made his way.

Hutch stood at Starsky's hospital bed and looked down at him; Huggy standing next to him.

An IV was attached to him, face scuffed with fine cuts; cheeks reddish from mild burns; bandages covering his eyes. A second bandage covered a burn on his right forearm; a

third was wrapped around his left hand.

"We're here, Starsk," Hutch whispered as he stroked the inside of his left arm.

"Benny's okay," Huggy added. "You saved him."

Even though Starsky was asleep and couldn't hear him, Hutch said, "We'll be here in the morning too."

They stood a while longer in the silent room, then Huggy took Hutch's arm to lead him toward the door.

"Why don't you go to the waiting room and take it easy? He's gonna to be all right."

"I can't, Hug. He'll need me when he wakes up."

Huggy looked at Starsky again.

"Yeah. I can dig that."

Hutch saw a chair next to the window and pulled it close to the bed, where he sat down and leaned forward.

"Hey, man," Huggy offered. "Sorry this happened."

"It's not your fault a crazy bomber's out to hurt you."

"My head tells me that. But my heart…"

"I think you should stay at my place until this guy's caught. He may decide to hit you again."

"No, man. I got to go take care of business. And by that I mean my place. Or I'll have vandals runnin' in and out my back door and takin' everything I own. Angie's takin' care of some of it, but I need to be there. Plus I got a few contacts I can call, see if they know anything."

"Okay, but be careful. You have a gun?"

"I do now. But I sure don't know the fine artistry of bomb defusin'."

Hutch nodded; leaning his forehead against the bed rail.

Huggy turned to leave, reaching up to turn the TV on as he did so, so that Hutch could catch the "If you see a man fitting this description" news bulletin Dobey was going to put

on the air.

One of the night duty nurses came in to check on Starsky during the night, and when she did, she saw that Hutch was dozing with his head resting atop his folded arm on the edge of the mattress.

The night was quiet, with no additional bombings, but there was still anxiety in Bay City as some black business owners evacuated their shops, while others who had never owned a gun before went out and purchased one, while still others were flooding the phone lines to the local authorities and media outlets with demands for action and apprehension of the bomber.

In the morning Hutch was awakened by a repeat of the news bulletin Dobey had put on the air.

As he sat and looked at the sketch of the suspect, he heard Starsky's soft moan as he began to awaken, saw his hands come up to feel the bandages around his eyes; the slight rise of his chest as fear rose.

Hutch put a hand on his forearm. "Hey, Ollie."

"Hutch?" he asked weakly. "What happened?"

"Bomb in Huggy's alley, remember?"

Starsky tried to raise his head.

"What's goin' on?"

Hutch put a gentle hand across his forehead to keep him down.

"Don't try to get up, okay? Your eyes are bandaged, you have a couple of burns, but you're going to be just fine."

"How long am I gonna be like this?"

"Doctor Turner doesn't know yet."

The fingers of Starsky's right hand gripped at the edge of the bed. Hutch gave him his hand to hold on to.

"I know you're scared. But it's too early to know anything. We'll hope for the best."

"Yeah, but what if…"

"You'll be okay. We'll take it one step at a time. I'll be right here with you."

"Did…is the kid okay?"

"He's fine. It looks like we're dealing with a serial bomber. Not just Huggy's place. Three other black businesses were hit. They have a description circulating, but there's not much else to go on. It looks like he's had a clean record until now. Did you see anything?"

"If I did I don't remember it."

The room grew quiet. And then the silence was punctured by Starsky's half-laugh, half-sob.

"What was I thinkin'? That I could stop a bomb? I've made some pretty big foul-ups in my day but…"

"You were thinking about Benny. You saved his life."

Starsky's hand went to the bandages again. Testing; feeling.

"I gotta take this off."

"You can't. Now if I have to go tell a nurse…"

Hutch's words died out, because his partner turned onto his side away from him, his hand on the other bed guard.

"Starsk…I'm scared too."

"I know. I'm glad you're here. It's just…"

Hutch rose from the chair.

"Eat something for breakfast, buddy," he said as he squeezed his friend's shoulder. "I'm going to check in with Dobey for an update, but I'll be back."

"Okay."

Hutch started to leave his bedside just as Huggy came in.

"Top of the mornin'," he said brightly. "How's our boy?"

Starsky didn't respond, and Hutch could find nothing at the moment to be so cheery about, until Huggy slipped a scrap of paper into his hand.

"Little birdie told me," he said with a crooked smile.

"Told you what?" Starsky asked.

"I'll keep an eye on him," Huggy said to Hutch.

"Thanks, Hug."

"What's goin' on?" Starsky asked.

"Oh, nothing," Hutch replied. "Our friendly neighborhood bomber's about to go down."

Starsky turned onto his back and grabbed for his shirtsleeve before he could leave the bed.

"Hutch, no."

Hutch's smile was oddly lethal as he covered Starsky's hand.

"I have to."

"Hey. No private parties. Give it to Dobey. Hug, come on. Help me."

Hutch uncurled his partner's fingers and clasped his hand. "Who said anything about a private party?"

"Hutch. Don't do anything crazy. I'll need you with me."

Hutch smiled at Huggy. "Would I do anything crazy?" "Who, you? Not too crazy."

Hutch gave Starsky's arm a final pat before leaving.

"Take it easy, Starsk. I'll be back."

After he left the room, Huggy sat down in the chair next to the hospital bed. "What say we get some breakfast up here for you?"

"Hug…"

"Don't worry about Blondie. He won't do anything to jeopardize the case. At least, I hope

he won't."

"Police!"

Gun drawn, Hutch kicked Russ Bartley's door open and pointed it at the man who sat calmly on his sofa holding a framed photograph to his chest.

Photos of Bartley with his marine buddies were on the wall. Family pictures on the end table. Rifles standing upright in a glass gun cabinet. An enlarged aerial photograph of Bay City, a cluster of pushpins marking several businesses, one of them Huggy's.

"You killed a lot of people," Hutch said to the man in the camouflage clothes, military boots, and burr haircut. "And you hurt my partner."

"Operation Payback," the man said with a light smile. "A gang raped and killed my wife last year. Have to send a message. Authorities didn't do anything. I begged the cops and the mayor, even the governor to do something. Nothing happened. They didn't do a thing."

Hutch walked closer to Bartley, aiming at his head.

"The people you hurt and killed were not in a gang."

"Neither was my wife."

Hutch moved even closer, gun at Bartley's temple.

(Don't do anything crazy. I'll need you with me)

"Come on, cop. What are you waiting for?"

(Hutch, no)

"Stand up," Hutch said taking handcuffs from his hip pocket. "You're under arrest."

Dobey was in his office talking to some of the ATF and Explosives agents when the phone on his desk rang.

"Hello?"

He listened for a moment, face still grim.

"Hutchinson? You did what?"

Starsky was straining against the hands of Huggy and a nurse when Hutch walked into his hospital room.

"Hey," Hutch said picking up his pace toward the bed. "What's going on?"

Panting from effort and weakness, Starsky stopped moving at the sound of his voice.

"Wanted to get out of here and find you."

Because the patient was no longer trying to get out of bed, the nurse and Huggy loosened their hold on him.

Hutch put a hand on his friend's shoulder and sat down in the chair he'd sat in before.

"Take it easy. I told you I'd be back."

Starsky's head fell back against the pillow, giving a sigh of relief and fatigue.

"I arrested him," Hutch said.

"No guillotine?" Starsky tried for a joke.

"Not today."

Huggy allowed himself a smile.

The nurse looked at Hutch with something between a smile and a scowl. "He's very stubborn."

"He's just the half of it," Huggy said. "You're lookin' at the white knight and the dark angel. The Terrible Two."

"That's a little dramatic," the blond smiled with a slight roll of his eyes.

As the case came to a close and Starsky continued to heal during the next few days, Hutch found himself feeling sad inside rather than satisfied. Yes, the bomber was caught and there would be no further bombing deaths. At least at the hands of this particular psycho. And yes, Starsky had survived the blast. But watching him grapple with the uncertainty of

his situation was frustrating; for his partner tried hard to present a brave exterior. He talked about the kinds of work he would do if he lost his place on the force. He talked of all of the things he would still be able to do. He talked of how fortunate he was compared to the other bombing victims.

But in the quiet moments of the night, when he thought Hutch was asleep in the chair next to the bed but was really watching him, he slipped out of bed and moved his hands over the items on his bedside table, and around the hospital room, as if to familiarize himself; orient himself, believe the reality.

Hutch knew all about the sensitivity and intelligence in his hands; the ones that understood the world of a camera, directed a tennis racket; prepared a meal, painted pottery, commanded a gun, built clipper ships, and delicately touched him when he needed comfort.

Hutch allowed his friend's private moment to go unmentioned; wished he had never opened his eyes and seen his secret thoughts; because he reasoned that a man was entitled to a few solitary moments that were solely his own.

It was Starsky who let him into it.

When Starsky finally made his way to the chair Hutch slouched in, without stumble or hesitation, his fingers lightly touched his hair, cheekbone, sideburn, then his shirt collar, then the zipper ring on his pullover shirt.

"Just wondered what you were wearin' today," he said quietly. "You okay?"

When Hutch didn't answer, Starsky's fingertips brushed against his eyelashes, feeling wetness.

"Two weeks," Starsky said as he sat in the passenger seat of Hutch's car on the drive home from the hospital. "Doc says he'll take the bandages off then."

"Yeah." Hutch tried to keep his voice light. With sight, Starsky always had a way of reading emotions on his face or in his body language. Without it, he was almost psychic in the way he interpreted his voice, his words, his silences. "That's what they said."

Hutch knew he should be grateful that the changes in their friendship would only be window dressing, and that the inner workings would remain untouched. But it still unnerved him that Starsky had to change in any way at all, and that he himself could do nothing to prevent it or undo it. It reminded him of how helpless he had felt watching the cruelty of the professor's compound travel through his best friend.

There was no bullet to remove this time. No compound to track. No cult leader to beg.

I was so close, Starsk. I had my hand on your jacket.

"Your place or mine?" Hutch asked him.

"Mine. But I want to stop in and see how Huggy's doin' on the way."

"Yeah, he said to bring you around."

"Good seein' you again, sweetheart," Diane said as she came around the bar to give Starsky a gentle hug.

"Same here."

Huggy came from the kitchen carrying a cake under a glass dome.

"Hold your hands out, Starsk. Got a surprise for you."

He held his hands out to receive it.

"Made a welcome home cake just for you, but you got to share it with Blondie."

"What kind is it?"

"Chocolate carrot."

Huggy looked at Hutch, seeing an expression that suggested he would rather be anywhere else doing anything else. Reality was setting in, and it showed on his face. Starsky was no longer in the secure environment of a hospital room, and Hutch had lost control of whatever elements in his life, and Starsky's life, that he thought he controlled.

Starsky was already moving his head to catch all of the sounds in the bar that he could from all directions that he could. The way he had done in the cafeteria at the hospital; in the gift shop; the lobby; outside on the grounds. Hutch offered his arm without a word, and Starsky seemed to know where his arm was at all times.

"Chocolate for me," Starsky said. "Carrots for Bugs."

"Hope everything works out when you go back to the doctor," Huggy said.

"Me too," Starsky replied. "Hey. How you doin'? Hutch said the back of your place took a pretty good hit."

"Yeah," Huggy said with a wry smile. "'bout like you did. Don't worry about it. Workers already came and left. Looks good as new back there."

"Good to hear it. Hey…your new waitress still here?"

"Bettina? Her day off. But she did say you were cute."

Starsky grinned. "Hear that, Hutch? She thinks I'm cute. Well…catch you guys later, huh? Come and see me."

"We will," Diane said. "Be careful."

She and Huggy watched them leave, Huggy noting that Starsky had lost the spontaneity in his body; the freedom of movement. He was now careful and slow, and Huggy could only hope that some of his physical energy and ease would return.

Diane waited until they were well out the door, then she turned into Huggy's shoulder and sniffed.

"I know," he said quietly as he put an arm around her and led her to the kitchen. "I know."

Once inside Starsky's house, Starsky carried the cake to the kitchen, but Hutch hurried ahead, moving a basket of folded laundry his partner had left in the floor, then pushed a stool back against the counter and closed a cabinet door.

"I can do that," Starsky told him.

"I can too."

Starsky set the cake on the counter. "Man, this is weird."

"What's weird?"

"Being in my house but not being able to see it. It's familiar, but not familiar."

"Yeah. I guess you'll have to adjust to a lot of things."

"Maybe not. Maybe when these bandages come off, everything will be okay." He smiled a little. "Seems like you're ready for the worst, and I'm ready for the best."

"I'm just being realistic."

"And I'm not?"

"I don't know. I think it's all…very stunning right now. There will be changes. I'll be out working through the day, so we won't get to pal around as much. I'll have a new partner. You won't be able to do some of the things you used to do. You won't have your job, your car…"

"Yeah, all of that's true, but I'll still have my best friend, and nothin' can change that fact."

Hutch nodded, then said, "Yeah. As a matter of fact, I have to get going. Dobey needs to talk to me about something."

"You're not leaving until we have a piece of this cake. Now get the milk."

Starsky was on his second piece of cake and listening to a quiz show on TV when his phone rang.

He turned the TV down and answered it.

"Yeah?"

"Dave Starsky?"

"Last time I checked."

"It's…we haven't met. I'm Bettina. Huggy's new waitress."

"Oh. Hey. Hi. Nice to meet you."

"Yeah. I'm glad you're okay. That bomb going off…scared the hell out of me. I know the bomber's in jail, but now I worry that it could happen again at any time. Since this is my day off…and Huggy said you were home from the hospital, I thought, well…maybe we could do something. Huggy gave me your number, and I'm kinda bored."

"Hmm. Well, I feel kind of cooped up myself. That hospital room was beginning to feel like a jail. So…sure…but I must warn you…I'll need a little help…"

"Oh sure, I understand."

"You up for a burger for lunch?"

"Sure. I know this neat little place near the park that's got really spicy burgers. Even the fries are spicy. I'll come by and pick you up."

"Hope you don't mind my car," Bettina said as she pushed paperback books and makeup bags and articles of clothing from the passenger seat and into the floorboard as she helped guide him into her VW bug. "It's a little messy."

"I'm used to it," he said as he got in.

Starsky and Bettina sat at a picnic table in the park across from The Burger Joint. As he listened to her talk about the new romance book she was reading, he couldn't help but notice the other sounds around him that came to his ears, like kids laughing and playing, the sound of skateboards gliding on concrete, a bird chirping in the tree above them, a radio playing in the window of the burger stand, a motorcycle down the street; a jackhammer in the distance; a bumblebee buzzing around a flowerbed behind them.

"So did they get back together?" he asked as he sipped soda through his straw.

"I don't know. I haven't read that far."

"Are there any steamy scenes in it?"

"A few."

"What have I been missing?"

"BETTY!"

Starsky's head turned. "Does that mean you?" he asked her.

"Jeff," she said as if she hadn't heard his question, "I told you it was over."

The sound of panting came to their picnic table as a guy raked all of their food off into the grass.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked as he took her arm and pulled her to her feet.

"Ow! You're hurting me!"

Starsky grabbed Jeff's arm. "Leave her alone."

Jeff released her arm, clutched the front of Starsky's shirt, and pulled him up from the picnic table.

"What are you gonna do about it?"

Starsky swung at the sound of Jeff's panting, but the man ducked and came back with a punch to his mouth.

Starsky reeled backward and tripped over the flowerbed.

Jeff reached down and grabbed his shirt again.

"Stop it!" Bettina cried. "He just got out of the hospital!"

"Well enough to fuck you!" Jeff said as he drew his fist back again.

Starsky shoved his knee up into Jeff's groin, then when Jeff was doubled over, rammed his knee up into his face.

Jeff dropped to the ground with a moan.

The sound of a siren split the air as Bettina, breathless and frightened, helped Starsky toward the VW.

"Let's get out of here while we can, Dave. He carries a knife."

He stumbled halfway to the bug just as Jeff was climbing to his feet again and bulldozing toward them, his face twisted pain, spewing epithets.

As Jeff gained on them, a uniformed police officer, Bernie Glassman, ran across the park and pulled his weapon.

"Police! Stop right there!"

Jeff stopped, hands in the air, allowing Bettina and Starsky to reach the VW, where she clung to his neck and shook.

"The burger stand owner saw what was going on and called for help," Hutch said as he leaned Starsky back against the VW and applied pressure to his bloody lip with a handkerchief. "Are you okay?"

Starsky pushed his hand away and applied the pressure himself.

"Yeah."

Hutch looked at Bettina. "Are you?"

"I am now."

"Some boyfriend you have."

"Had. I left him when I left my old job as a dancer to go work for Huggy. He thinks he owns me."

Hutch looked around.

"What are you doing out here, Starsk?"

"Having a date. What are you doing out here?"

"Bernie radioed me. That nut could have killed you."

"No kidding."

"You shouldn't go places alone."

"I'm not exactly alone. What you mean is I shouldn't go places without you."

"Maybe you shouldn't."

"Are you kidding? I have to go out, and sometimes you're not gonna be around. Am I supposed to live around your schedule? I took care of myself."

"Barely. If the burger master hadn't called the cops…"

"I'd have taken care of it."

Officer Glassman approached them after having put Jeff in the backseat of his black and white.

He pulled Bettina aside to talk to her.

"Come on," Hutch told Starsky as he took his arm. "I'll take you home."

Starsky shrugged away from his hand. "I came with Bettina."

Hutch watched him lean over the VW and press the handkerchief to his mouth again, and when he did, was certain that he saw a tremble in his partner's hand.

The next morning when Hutch stopped at Starsky's house to have some cake for breakfast before going to the precinct, he discovered that he wasn't home.

Figuring he had spent the night with Bettina, Hutch shrugged and wrapped a piece of cake in some tin foil to take with him.

On the way to the police station, Hutch stopped at Vinnie's Gym to pay his bill, and that's where he saw Starsky in the back working out with a punching bag in gray sweatpants and black T-shirt.

Vinnie came over to the counter and took Hutch's money, putting it in the cash register.

"How long has he been here?" Hutch asked.

"Since I opened this morning."

Hutch walked back to the punching bag.

"Morning, Starsk."

Starsky didn't stop his jabbing.

"Morning."

Hutch made a second note of the cut on his mouth.

"How'd you get here?"

"Torino."

Hutch rolled his eyes.

"That was a joke," Starsky said.

"I know."

"Called a cab, what else?"

"I thought maybe Bettina brought you."

"She offered, but I didn't want her to be late for work."

Hutch watched him work at the bag.

"I think you're a little scared."

"Kiddin' me?"

"You got lucky yesterday."

"That hurts my feelings. I thought I did pretty good when I cracked his nuts and busted his nose."

Hutch took the bag in his hands and moved it, making him miss and stumble forward a step.

Starsky righted himself and stood with his arms down at his sides, panting, sweat trickling beneath the bandage.

"Teach me then," he said quietly. "Show me what I should do."

When the weekend came, Hutch dropped by Starsky's to visit.

"Where's Bettina?" he asked as he looked around the house, seeing a blouse she had hung over the bedroom door.

Starsky was busy poising himself in the middle of the living room floor, practicing balance movements, breathing techniques, and fighting/self-defense maneuvers that Hutch was teaching him. That he hadn't learned in the military, at the police academy, in his old neighborhood, or on the job. That involved a fair amount of body contact and unorthodox strategies.

"Huggy's this weekend."

Hutch grinned as he came up behind his partner and grabbed him from behind. Starsky bent forward and flipped him onto his back.

"Any cake left?" Hutch asked from the floor.

"You and that cake," Starsky said as he gave him a hand and pulled him up. "There's about half left. Let's get some coffee."

When they were eating a piece of cake with coffee, Starsky asked, "So Captain Dobey give you a new partner yet?"

"Not yet. Been working with different ones. I think he has someone in the wings, but he said he wouldn't assign one until next week."

"Want me to go in with you?" Hutch asked as he and Starsky stopped just outside the ophthalmologist's examination room.

"No, I got it."

The door opened and an assistant smiled at them.

"Mr. Starsky, we're ready for you."

He reached for her elbow, and said over his shoulder to Hutch, "Now I have a good excuse to touch all the ladies I want."

Hutch patted his shoulder, then when the door closed, began to pace in the hallway, his heart wildly pounding.

That morning he had done something he hadn't done in a long time, and it was pray. For his partner to be whole again, and for himself to be strong enough should he not be.

At the end of a hall was a resource table full of books and pamphlets. It wasn't the first time he was tempted to pick something like these up and read them, but he thought maybe he should wait until they knew for sure. Somehow reading them would seem like…giving in. And not reading them was a gesture of hope.

He saw a man with a cane going into another examination room, and tried not to see his partner in him, but he did. The tilt of his head to catch sounds. The way he minded his personal space. The radar-like way his body stopped when sensing something in front of him. The way his fingertips had replaced seeing.

I don't want this for him. I don't want this to be his life. But if it has to be…there has to be a way for it to become okay.

The sound of the door opening at the other end of the hall drew his attention away from the table of literature, and when he saw Starsky step out and look for him, point to him, and smile, Hutch let out a yell and ran down the hall, picking him up and swinging him around.

"Hey!" Starsky said as he squeezed him tight. "I gotta go back in there. I'm not finished yet. I just wanted you to know."

Hutch pushed him back a step and held his shoulders to look at him.

There was a slight pink scar at the corner of his eye, but that was the only visible sign that his eyes had been damaged at all.

"Beautiful," Hutch said with wet eyes, then pushed him back into the examining room.

Hutch was like a happy teenager showing off a new car as he followed Starsky into Huggy's that afternoon.

Bettina saw him and squealed with delight as she ran to hug him, and Huggy and Diane weren't far behind.

"You don't know how happy we are," Diane said as they took turns hugging and patting him.

"I'm happy too," Starsky said. "Longest two weeks of my life."

"You guys hungry?" Bettina asked them.

"Sure," Hutch said. "I feel like soup and sandwich. Starsk?"

"Bowl of chili if you got one," Starsky said as he led the way to two stools at the bar. He looked around the restaurant. "Almost like seein' it for the first time." Huggy poured a couple of beers and set them down in front of them.

"Another visitor comes to call, gentlemen."

The detectives looked toward the door to see Captain Dobey walking in with Benny.

"You're looking well," he said with a rare smile.

Starsky shook his hand. "Thanks."

"I have a boy here who said he'd like to see you."

Starsky shook Benny's hand too. "Hiya, Benny."

"Hiya, Starsky. I'm glad you're okay."

"Me too."

End