"Starsk? Hey, Starsk, you awake?"

Hutch crossed quietly to peer down at the pale, thin face on the pillow. It always cost him a pang these days to catch Starsky asleep like this. Asleep, the hardened street cop vanished, allowing the new vulnerability of the wounded man to shine through.

Hutch stood regarding his friend for a long time, relishing the sight of the rise and fall of his chest, savoring the signs of a life he'd thought violently extinguished. Starsky looked so peaceful lying there amid the blankets, safe - alive! God, it felt so good just to know Starsky was going to live!

It had been two weeks now since Starsky had been shot down in the police parking lot, but the terrible injuries he'd suffered in the incident had left him healing slowly and still in considerable pain. Consequently, the doctors kept him lightly drugged nearly all the time, a regular series of pain-killers, sedatives, antibiotics and more, administered over the course of the day - every day.

Hutch looked around for a chair, prepared to await his partner's return to awareness, but the long lashes fluttered once and opened. Blue eyes peered blankly, unfocused. "Hmmph?" he muttered.

Hardly scintillating conversation, but with all the drugs being pumped through his system, Starsky was fortunate to be able to manage that much most of the time. Of course. Hutch wasn't at this particular bedside to be amused, any way.

"Hey, buddy," he said, giving his friend's shoulder a reassuring pat. "How're you feeling?"

He could tell that the painkillers at least were beginning to wear off. Still, the blue eyes met his own directly enough and the lips curved upward into a thin smile. "M'kay." The voice was a hoarse croak, damaged lungs straining to draw breath for speech as well as life. God, Starsk, Hutch thought sadly. What they did to you. His mind rejected the thought as too painful to contemplate even now. He did have to think about it soon, however - it was time to consider options, both his own and Starsky's. But not now. He was too tired and Starsky was going to need him to be strong for a while - a long while. The doctors had made it clear that there was going to be long months of rest and therapy if he ever hoped to regain even a measure of the health he'd once enjoyed. It would probably not be enough to qualify him with the medical review board; they'd been honest enough about that; he might never be a street cop again. And a Starsky chained behind a desk would be a very miserable Starsky indeed.

Dobey was already attempting to prepare Hutch for that eventuality by teaming him with Sean O' Brian so soon after the shooting. It was a good choice. Hutch had to admit. O'Brian was a good cop, possessing a placid serenity about life that Hutch was beginning to envy more and more.

Yeah, O'Brian was a good cop - even on his way to being a good friend - but the 'Dynamic Duet* required one David M. Starsky in the equation. Without him, there was no sparkle, no triumph, no balance. No team. "Hey, Hutch?"

Hutchinson focused on the pale face, aware that he had let his thoughts drift. So tired.. "Yeah, buddy. Right here." He pasted on a smile, not fooling his friend one bit.

"You look awful." Starsky *s lips twitched again. "How're you feelin'?"

Hutch sank down on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes wearily. "Just a little tired." He glanced down into concerned eyes, then reached out to gently enfold his friend's hand in his own, feeling a need for some form of physical contact. He's alive... "It's the case I'm working on." The half- lie wouldn't fool Starsky, but Starsky wouldn't push the matter either. Not yet anyway.

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Someone's killing wino's on the strip again."

The dark head came up at that, eyes narrowed into slits. "Winos? Like that case we worked on 'couple years back? You're... not going undercover, are you?" he asked anxiously.

Hutch squeezed the hand he still gripped; the weak return squeeze provided more comfort than anything else could ever have done. Alive..

"No, partner, it won't be me going undercover. You'n me, we're too well- known in that area for me to pull it off. We borrowed Carter from Vice for the undercover work. We brought 'em Tommy LaBeck last night and they're returning the favor."

Starsky snorted and dropped his head back to the heavily fluffed pillow. "LaBeck? That turkey? Where 'd you get him?"

"We cornered him in some dive called, believe it or not. The Cosmic Equation." "Over on McGee Street?"

"That's the one. We just waltzed in and picked him up." Hutch laughed at the memory of LaBeck dangling from O 'Brian's grip. "Literally."

"Yeah? Good." Starsky relaxed fractionally. "Can't have you workin' under without proper back-up. Without me." He shifted slightly in the hospital bed and grimaced as a spasm of pain shot through him.

Hutch bent forward anxiously. "Starsk? Hang on, buddy, I'll get the nurse + "

He made to disengage his hand from the weak grip, but the fingers tightened around his own, giving him pause.

"M 'okay, I said."

"No, you're not, you idiot," Hutch said affectionately. "I can tell you're hurting. Pretty bad, too, isn't it? Let me get some help."

But Starsky shook his head, his hold tenacious. "No, Hutch, I... not yet, 'kay? I've been drugged up so long... hate it. Just... a little while longer, okay? Please?"

The pleading voice would have been hard to resist even had Hutch had any resistance left. He settled back down on the bed, tightening his grip on Starsky's hand. "All right, but just a while, then I'm getting a nurse, understand?"

Starsky nodded. Even a few minutes of relatively clear thought were precious of late. "Tell me about this new case," he begged.

Hutch chatted on several minutes, describing the pertinent facts of his newest assignment. Maybe it would give Starsky something to think about for a while besides the four hospital walls and drugged lethargy that filled his time here.

"... so Sean and I requested Carter to do a bit of snooping for us; see what he turns up."

"Sean... your new partner." The words were sad, a little wistful, and Hutch felt the now familiar pain flare up inside him. Very little chance of him returning to the force... very little chance.... The echoed litany replayed itself with monotonous regularity until Hutch brutally extinguished it.

"O'Brian's a good cop, Starsk." The blond waited until his friend hesitantly met his eyes. "But he's not my partner. You are." Starsky tried to avert his face; Hutch took a handful of curly dark hair, forcing the man's face back up. "Do you understand me?"

Starsky met the crystalline gaze for several seconds before closing his eyes. Hutch's hand released his hair, then rested gently against the soft curls. "Hey, Starsk? Easy... easy. I'll get the nurse."

"Wait!" The pain-filled eyes flew open again, meeting his partner's concerned look squarely. "Hutch, I... I was talkin' to the doctors today." The blond stiffened, bracing himself. "He said chances are I'll never qualify for the streets again. "

Hutch's expression froze over, his lips a thin line. "'Chances are' doesn't mean a lot, buddy." "

Hutch, we... have to face facts, man. I.. don't think--. I'll be able to come back to the department." He sighed dispiritedly- "I can't face driving a desk the rest of my life and--." He gasped on a deep, wrenching pain that was as much emotional as physical, "...and you need someone who isn't gonna let you down out there." He turned away as a tear slipped down his cheek and then another, the hand still encased in Hutch's beginning to tremble.

Hutch stared, dismayed. He'd known - how could he not know? - the thin emotional line Starsky had been walking since the shooting- But to see his tough, street cop of a partner break down like this, stripped of any barriers and all control was disconcerting to say the least. "Hey, buddy, easy. "

Carefully, ever mindful of the terrible injuries on the slowly healing body, Hutch gathered the other man close, wrapping him in a protective embrace. "Easy... shh." The dark head settled against his shoulder, blindly seeking comfort and refuge. I'm here, Starsk."

He had said those words to his hurting friend before, offered himself then as now, and felt every bit as helpless then as now.

Starsky swallowed a sob, bringing his free hand - the one not hampered with an IV - up to cling to the front of Hutches shirt. He hung on with a desperate intensity and Hutch held on to him, murmuring little reassurances into the dark reality. "l'm not going to let you go, Starsk. I' m here."

The two men clung together, riding the tidal wave of emotion - love and support waging battle with pain and hopeless despair. Hutch could feel his friend trembling with the effort at regaining control of himself; could sense his shame for breaking down. With a jolt the blond realized his own face was wet, but refused to relinquish his hold on the other to wipe away the tears. They didn't matter anyway. Nothing mattered except the fact that Starsky was hurting.

After a long time the tears slowed, the gasping breath of the injured man barely heard over the low hum of the hospital equipment. The dark head finally lay quiet against Hutch's shoulder but neither man made a move to separate; they simply sat, needing the touch, drawing warmth and comfort from each other.

Hutch closed his eyes tightly, laying his cheek against the bowed head. There were no words left - none needed. The touch was enough. He raised one hand and gently stroked the soft curls once, twice. "You all right?" He got an unconvincing nod, barely felt against his cheek. The blond drew the other man closer against his chest - friend, partner, brother, firm foundation - supporting him gently. "Don' t hurt so much, Starsky," he whispered, voice full of emotion. "I can't stand to see you hurt anymore."

The hand entangled in the front of Hutch's shirt gently disengaged, slipping around Hutch's waist and hugging him with more determination than strength. "Hutch..."

"Quiet." Hutch returned the hug, then allowed Starsky to draw away, settling him back against the pillows.

"l'm sorry."

Hutch made a shushing noise and Starsky subsided. He suffered Hutch to untangle the IV lines, then to wipe his face with a cloth, only then noticing the wet streaks on Hutches own face.

"Hey..-" He touched the other's cheek gently, "I'm really sorry, It's just that ...."

Hutch sniffed and swiped at his face with a rueful grin. "No need to apologize, partner. Guess we're both a little down today. "

"Yeah." Starsky heaved a deep sigh. "It* s just finding out.... Oh, man, I feel so... useless."

"Starsky." There was a new determination in Hutch's voice that caused the other man to peer at him curiously. "Things will work out. I don't know how yet," he raised a hand forestalling the automatic inquiry on the other's lips, "but it will. I promise. "

A heartbeat passed before that slow, crooked grin lighted the other's thin face. "Guess that's good enough for me. When ol' Ken Hutchinson speaks--"

"People listen!" they finished together with a laugh. It felt good to laugh. And it would work out. Somehow. Because no matter what happened, they'd still be together. Down whatever path the future would lead them, they'd walk it together... as partners.

Hutch sagged deeper into the chair across from Dobey's desk with a weary sigh. Three weeks! So glad that case was over.

The case was finished - successfully. Why was there no feeling of satisfaction? Sure, he and O'Brian had captured the wino murderer, but the elation he usually felt at the successful completion of a case was missing and Hutchinson knew why: Starsky wasn't here to share the success with him.

He sighed. Seven years ago, who would have thought that having someone at his back could make such a difference in his life? But difference he had made, and without Starsky there was no sparkle left to this job. Without mulling the possibilities one more second. Hutch raised his head and began to talk. "Captain?"

"Hmmm?" came the distracted reply. "What is it?"

"I'm resigning. Captain, and so is Starsky." This took a finite amount of time to register, while Hutch braced himself for the inevitable explosion. It never came.

Dobey regarded him with eyes uncharacteristically soft. "I've been expecting this, Ken. Wondered how long it was going to take you to make up your mind."

The surprise, it seemed, was all on Hutchinson's side. "Captain, how could you have known when I didn't?"

Dobey walked around to perch precariously on the edge of his desk- From this vantage point, he could stare down into the younger man's face, could see all too clearly the lines etched into the smooth skin, the weariness which marked his soul even deeper. "I've told you about Elmo Jackson?"

Hutch scrubbed his face wearily, his fingers rasping on the growth of blond beard along his jaw. "He was your partner back when you were a street cop. We put his murderer away two years ago. "

"I told you that much but I didn't really tell you about Elmo, did I?" Hutch shook his head in the negative and, after a moment, Dobey went on, "Elmo and I went through the Academy together and managed to get assigned as a team when we made plainclothes. He was a good man, fine cop. Honest, brave as they come - too brave, maybe. You know that old saying, where angels fear to tread? That was Elmo. If there was action going down, you could be sure Elmo was right in the middle of it. I remember once.,.." He broke off, oddly introspective. Hutch had the impression Dobey wasn't so much as aware of his presence at this point; he was elsewhere, elsewhen, back with his best friend. Dobey shook himself after a bit, returning to the present and to Hutch. "Anyway, we worked together a lot of years. And then he was killed."

Mirror-image pain flickered across dissimilar features, each reliving what had been the worst experience of their lives. Dobey, with the buffer of time gone by, recovered first, focusing on the younger man's face, brown eyes boring into blue with a strange mixture of empathy and a wistful envy. "If Elmo had lived, I don't know what we would have done, but I don't think I'd have wanted to risk him on the streets again. He was my best friend and I loved him. Losing him was the worst thing that ever happened to me, and if it had been me given a second chance, I know what I would have done with it.

"You were given a second chance. Ken," he went on after a pause, "and I know you're not going to waste it, either." Shared knowledge flashed between the two, leaving a rare, sympathetic resonance singing in the air. Hutch released a pent-up breath, unaware that he had been holding it, and relaxed a bit into the chair.

The relief of the decision being made and the sympathy from his superior officer was a soothing balm to shattered nerve. He smiled up at Dobey. "You do understand then." It was not a question. "God, I'm tired." Hutch rubbed bloodshot eyes before meeting that brown gaze again. "You've heard that the chances are he'll never qualify for street work again?" Dobey nodded. "There was so much damage, he...." He licked dry lips, tried again. "He's going to try to qualify with the Review Board. You know Starsky." Dobey did. "Stubborn idiot won't give up until he does. He'll kill himself trying. Or we'll end up right back on the streets facing the same stuff over and over."

"I don't think you're going to have to worry about that, Ken. I saw the medical reports, too."

Hutch shot him a startled look but had to grudgingly concede the point. The damage to his partner's chest and abdomen was extensive - muscles held together by wire, damage to the heart and lungs. Prognosis was excellent that he would regain his health, but Starsky would never enjoy either the strength or athletic prowess he d once had. In short, there was very little chance the man would ever pass a medical board review. He would be condemned to driving a desk for the rest of his career - anathema to an active street cop, slow death for a man like Starsky.

Hutch refocused with a start, only now becoming aware that Dobey was speaking again. "Huh? What did you say. Cap?"

"I asked," Dobey repeated patiently, "if you'd made any plans yet? Have any idea what you're going to do?"

Hutch nodded slowly. "Oddly enough, I do have an idea. I've got a cousin who lives in a small town called Langston, Oregon. Her husband is the Chief of Police. "

"Langston, where?"

"Langston, Oregon." Hutch laughed shortly. "It's a small town high up in the Cascades. Tourism mostly. You know the kind - hunting during the fall, skiing in the winter, quiet all year 'round."

Dobey gaped. "What do you plan to do in a place like Langston, Oregon?"

Hutch laughed again, a lighter sound as the weights dropped away one by one. And they were dropping away - decision made, a plan of action taking form and... Starsky was alive! All at once the world was almost worth living in again.

"My cousin's husband, Neil, is police chief. Last time I talked with him, he was looking to expand his department, and he asked if I was interested in a position with him. Suddenly, I think I am."

He smiled a bright, golden smile, and it was as if a shaft of sunlight had lighted the room from within. "Don't you see, Cap? A small town with a low crime rate - you keep a few tourists in line, petty thefts, that sort of thing. A small town like that won't be so strict with their medical requirements - nothing I can't talk Neil around, anyway. It'll be a place for Starsky to regain his health - fresh air, trees and grass. He can even be a cop again."

And be safe. Safe and alive.

Dobey chuckled indulgently at the other's unbridled enthusiasm, but felt compelled to bring up one small, if important, point. "You're forgetting one thing. Ken."

"What's that?"

"Starsky. What if he doesn't want to move to... uh... Oregon? Starsky's a city boy - always has been. You're askin' him to make a pretty big change. You sure he'll do it?" "He'll do it." Hutch spoke with an assurance born of seven years as partner, friend, and brother to David Starsky. "He'll go because l am. We're partners."

Once again that wistful envy flickered in Dobey's eyes and was gone. "Yeah, he'll go." A beat. "Well, what are you sitting on your butt for? You've got some arrangements to make, don't you?"

The sunshine smile lit again. "Yeah. Biggest one is figuring out how to tell Starsk he just went country!"

***