I tried to finish all the storylines, but if you still have questions, please feel free to email me.
Enjoy!
Chapter 28
"Well, I should have known you were here." Huggy dropped down onto a chair opposite the brunet's bed, and put his feet up. "Starsky, d' you know half of the nursing staff is looking for you?"
The bartender had paid a brief visit to the room where Starsky was supposed to be recuperating - two floors up – and just in time had spotted the head nurse talking irately to her staff in the middle of the empty room. She was demanding to know how a patient of theirs could have disappeared overnight. Huggy had backed off quietly as he had a hunch where Starsky might have gone.
"Sorry," Starsky said softly, "but I decided to move my sleeping accommodations down here, until he wakes up."
"The nurses won't be happy about that, my man." His eyes locked onto the still form on the second bed.
"Yeah, well, I'm not leavin'."
Huggy watched his tired friend trying to sit up, and wondered how he had managed to drag himself two floors down in the first place. "Where did you get the bed?"
Starsky showed a wry little grin. "I kinda took it with me."
Shaking his head, the bartender wisely decided not to delve into that statement too much. He smiled inwardly; no wonder the head nurse had been livid.
"Hug," Starsky said gratefully, "I owe you, we both do, big time."
Huggy just shrugged, "Happy to oblige."
After the police had been informed about the murder at Helen's place, and learned the identity of the possible suspect, Dobey had sent his man out to look for Hutch at once. However, the local news had thrown the entire investigation in a downward spiral, as Metro had become swamped with phone calls from anxious citizens who were demanding to know why the police were covering up for one of their detectives. "You should've seen Dobey when that female reporter appeared on his doorstep," the bartender had said, grinning at the thought. "For a moment I thought he was gonna throttle her right then, and there."
The point was that Dobey and his men were constantly running behind facts. By the time they appeared on the scene at the diner, where the first mob scene had taken place, Hutch had been long gone. They never would have found the guys in time if Huggy hadn't got wind of this so called 'search party' Karl had put together. An unknown tipster had given the bartender the farm's address, and he'd immediately alerted Dobey.
"How's he doing?" Huggy asked with certain trepidation in his voice.
Starsky gave a slight shake of his head. "I don't know… Doc says he should be waking up soon, but so far he's just… lying there."
The bartender could see the worry etched into the brunet's face. "Hey, don't worry. From what I've heard his injuries aren't too severe: a couple of bruises, a few bumps in the head and two broken ribs. He'll come out of it."
"Yeah," Starsky said unconvinced. Huggy frowned, looking over to the blond. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Starsky had prevented a far worse outcome of events by protecting Hutch in the way that he had. The brunet showed some bruises of his own, but it was nothing compared to Hutch's visible injuries, whose left side of his face was black and blue as he lay unmoving in the hospital bend, still unconscious.
"What if he doesn't want to?"
That question sent a chill up Huggy's spine. He had been there when Starsky had carried his partner over to the waiting ambulance. It was a scene he wasn't liable to forget any time soon. While Dobey and his man were rounding up as much of the crowd as possible, Huggy learned from a first hand witness what had happened. He still shuddered at the thought of what he and Dobey would have found if they had arrived five minutes later.
"He'll be all right, bro," Huggy tried to soothe the man. Part of him was relieved that the brunet had moved in with Hutch, for the bartender had known the two long enough to realise that right now Starsky's presence was what the blond needed the most. "Look, I gotta go. Don't want to rile up the nursing staff anymore than they already are. Want me to let them know where you are?"
"Go ahead, they'll find out eventually, anyway."
"'Kay, just call the Bear if you need anything, you hear?"
"Sure, thanks Hug."
Casting one last look on the still blond features, Huggy quietly left the room.
It had been three days. And Hutch was still unconscious. Sitting at his bedside, the brunet stroked his partner's hand. The worry was now edged into Starsky's face. Come on, buddy, and wake up.
Until the results of the drug test came in, Starsky had been ordered to stay hospitalised. Only when the test concluded that enough of the drug had left his system, was he allowed to go home.
Home.
How long had it been since he'd thought of his place at Ridgeway Avenue as home? It was a miracle the place was still his to rent. However unlikely it sounded, the Feds had kept the rent going on it, as well as on Venice place. His mouth had dropped to the floor at that bit of information, but as Dobey had said: "The FBI doesn't like loose ends."
He sighed; that much was true. After Starsky had made his statement, the police had contacted the Federal Bureau, who, of course, stated that they had never heard of an agent Donalds or Michaels. If those men did exist, they certainly weren't working for the government. They were probably Forest's men. And that was that. Karl got the blame for the entire operation.
But Karl had escaped.
There was an APB out on him. After all, he was wanted for the kidnapping and torture of two police officers and these were just two of the many charges. But he wasn't wanted for murder. Starsky's testimony wasn't enough to convict him for the murders on all those kids Karl had used as test subjects, especially since his memory wasn't a full hundred percent yet. Dobey had his men search the old factory, but every trace of the drug had disappeared. Courtesy of the FBI, Starsky thought bitterly.
The police had Helen and her three brothers in custody, but they refused to talk about their connection to the Forests. They were convinced Hutch had killed Tommy, and stuck to that story. Dobey needed Hutch's testimony to set things straight. Like Starsky, he sincerely believed in the blond's innocence.
He stared at his partner again. Huggy was right, the bruises and broken bones would heal. But something didn't feel right. Something made his stomach clench in worry every time he looked at the still form in the bed beside him. It was an almost tangible fear caused by the fact that he didn't know what Karl had done to the blond. The few facts he was aware of, were only adding to Starsky's tension, making him feel frustrated and angry, for his need to stop six months worth of torture fell on useless grounds, as it had already happened. Why the hell doesn't he wake up?
There was no movement whatsoever.
It frightened him.
Quietly he shook his head as the helpless anger turned into grief. He missed Bell. It ached, it hurt, and it was confusing. Because six months had been stolen from him. He felt as though he'd just woken up from a long daydream, to find that his worst fears had come true. And finding Hutch in the state he was in nearly broke him apart. But on the other hand, there was Belinda. How could he ever be sorry for those six months away from it all? She had been a continuing support, and he loved her. He truly loved her. If he'd known in advance that her death was the price he had to pay for getting his old life back, would he still have done it? Would he have gone after Hutch?
He watched the man lying quietly underneath the sheets, and brushed the blond strands of hair out of his face. God, I need you, Hutch. I can't loose you both. "You would have liked her, buddy." He said out loud, "She was… well, she wasn't Terry. But she had her own… special way about her. She was-"
He shook his head, closing his eyes, momentarily loosing his composure as grief overwhelmed him. There was no one around to see him. It was late, and nightshift at the hospital had already started. After three days of holding himself together, of fighting back the tears he felt the moment he'd seen Belinda fall, he finally broke down, burying himself into the white sheets. One hand still held his partner's, while the other pulled on Hutch's body beneath him. He clenched it in silent sobs, for Belinda, for Hutch, for what had happened to them…
He needed his partner, desperately, but the blond just lay still, there was no reaction at all.
The screams were terrifying. The hands of so many people were groping for him as he ran through endless empty corridors, searching for a light, for a way out. Loneliness covered him like a thick black blanket, choking him, pushing him down, and forcing him to his knees.
With a soundless gasp, Hutch woke up.
The dark was everywhere. Confused his eyes searched for something familiar. He didn't recognise anything. He froze, frightened. He didn't have a clue where he was, or how he got here. The icy grip of fear was still very much a part of him.
Clenching the sheets with both hands, he slowly recalled the surreal run, the people, and the madness. Then Starsky had been there, in his dream. God he'd been there.
Inwardly Hutch sobbed, moaning a loss, which he knew, would kill him eventually.
He pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers, fighting down the dread, and then turned his head. In the shadows someone else was lying in a bed next to him. He stared at it for a long time; unable to figure out whether it was real or not.
With an effort he let go of his paralysing fear and pulled back the blankets. Almost instantly a stabbing pain originating from his chest area almost made him cry out. Mixing up the agony of his body with the pain resonating from his soul, a disoriented Hutch desperately tried to force the pain down, not wanting to let Karl know how much the devastation inside him still hurt.
Biting his lip, he managed to get up.
Hutch put his bare feet on the cold floor, then let go of the bed. Taking small careful footsteps, he walked over to his neighbor, his eyes and mind focused on the form lying in the large bed. Recognising the shape, he blinked a couple of times, before slowly reaching out to touch the sleeping man. A small whisper escaped his throat, "Starsky?"
His tortured soul rejected the reality in front of him.
This had to be another one of Karl's sick little games. It was all a lie, for there was nothing left for him in the real world, just death and pain. Hutch wishfully closed a hand around the brunet's arm. The heavily sedated man did not wake up. The blond sighed as a tear ran freely down his face. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real.
God, if only it was real.
Starsky woke up out of a deep slumber. Whatever the nurse, who'd found him sitting at his partner's bedside, had given him last night, it sure had done the trick. He'd been out like a light. He took in a sharp breath as the pain originating from numerous bruises announced its presence again.
His eyes suddenly snapped open as he realised something heavy was pressing down on his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe. Wide awake in an instant, he desperately tried to get rid of the offending object, only to freeze halfway through the motion when he noticed Hutch lying next to him, his arm draped across his chest, and he was sleeping soundly.
Starsky frowned in utter surprise. How the hell did he get over here? When did this happen? He was unconscious last night!
Relaxing, the brunet lay back down into the soft pillow again, staring at the white plaster of the ceiling. "Damn," he whispered, and closed his left hand's fingers gently around Hutch's wrist to hold it tight. For he was all too aware of how utterly messed up his once independent strong partner must be for moving over to him and crawling into bed with him like a frightened child, with two broken ribs no less.
He swallowed away the now aching worry threatening to close his throat, and grabbed the wrist a bit tighter in a trembling grip. One hundred and eighty days. That's how long Karl had you all to himself, he thought angry, and that never should have happened.
"Starsk?"
Opening his eyes again, he found his partner staring at him.
The blond pulled back his arm, obviously confused as to how he got here.
"Hey," Starsky said softly. "Welcome back, partner."
"You're real?"
"You tell me. You almost squashed me to death with that arm of yours."
Hutch watched him. There was no funny retort as he lay there watching the brunet; there was just the face of a broken man. "You're here. You came back?"
Starsky nodded.
"Y…you remembered?"
"You're kinda hard to forget, Blintz."
To Starsky's shock, tears started to appear in the blond's eyes, and the blues in front of him started to look… empty. Trying to soothe that emptiness, he reached out to gently wipe the drops away with one of his fingers. Just the fact that he was allowed to do so, sent his concern into overdrive. Hutch wasn't the kind of person to cry easily. The whole world had to come crashing down around him, before the man would shed a tear. But the blond in front of him, wasn't the same one he'd left in the hands of Karl Forest. This was the broken one from his dreams.
Suddenly self-conscious Hutch pulled away and tried to sit up. With a yell of pain he fell back again.
"Hutch, you fool. You've got two broken ribs, so don't move. I'll get to the other bed." Not feeling too well, Starsky paused to sit very still on the bedside for a moment. As the doctor's had said, his system still wasn't fully clear of the drug; the headache and nausea were still there, albeit to a lesser degree. At certain times he felt himself drifting back to that blissful state of forgetfulness.
Everything had happened so fast. Just a week ago his whole world had consisted of Burnaby and the small restaurant his wife had owned. He lowered his eyes with grief. He hadn't even been able to make it to Belinda's funeral. She'd been taken back to Canada, to be buried on the small town's local graveyard, today.
He missed her.
During all the time the drug had taken effect on him, she'd been the one who had kept him from going crazy. She had taken his dreams seriously, and she had gone with him, even though she didn't agree wholeheartedly with his actions. If it weren't for her, he doubted he would have found Hutch in time.
He suddenly realised he was still sitting on the bedside, and turned at the movement behind him.
Shivers were shooting through his partner's body.
"Hutch, Hey," Startled, Starsky considered pressing the button to call the nurse. "Hutch, I'm here, I'm not going anywhere." He stated, putting a hand on the blond's shoulder.
"You're not," Hutch whispered, staring into the air above him.
"What?"
"You're not here. It's gone, empty… God it feels so empty, Starsk… and it hurts. It hurts."
Starsky put his other hand on top of his arm, but Hutch rejected him, wiping away the hands from his body. His eyes locked onto his partner, but they held no warmth as he asked, "Give me a moment, huh? Please?"
Starsky pulled back, "Yeah, sure."
God, what's happened to you out there? He thought. For a fleeting moment the look in his partner's eyes scared him to bits, and for a second he doubted if they were able to regain what they'd lost.
Feeling defeated, he maneuvred himself to Hutch's previous bed where he lay down quietly.
Tired, he noticed his partner had fallen asleep again.
Chapter 29
It was strange, but Starsky's image, gliding in and out of his dreams, sometimes seemed so vivid that Hutch nearly cried. Afraid to loose what sanity he had left, the blond desperately tried to keep the hallucination away from him. And it seemed to work. He pretended to listen to it, to bear with whatever this dreamlike partner was whispering in his ears, but he never let it in. It wasn't the real Starsky; so he didn't allow his feelings to connect with this ghost from the past.
"Come on, Hutch. You gotta eat."
With closed eyes, the blond tried to ignore him, but the man went on, "You used to love all this health food. Doc says it's good for you."
"I don't want it, you eat it if you like it so much," he said, hoping that would silence the voice. He pried open one eye to see the image watching the plate with a distasteful look on his face.
"Now if this were a burrito… with onions…" the image contemplated.
Hutch froze. This started to sound far too much like the real Starsky.
The ghostly image looked up. "Are you all right?"
Mesmerised Hutch could feel himself being pulled out of the safe haven he had created. Realising his loss of control he snapped out of it and quickly looked away. Don't answer it, just don't answer it, he recited
The blond suddenly felt a hand on his arm. Startled, he roughly flung it off of him, knocking over the plate in the process, and sending the food flying through the room. The plate clattered onto the floor. "I told you I don't want it, now leave me alone!" Hutch said fiercely, focusing two angry eyes at the hallucination.
The image stood there, looking shocked.
Something inside the blond stirred, wanting to reach out, to comfort the brunet in front of him, but he squashed it, causing pain to well up inside. He closed his eyes. "Just go away," He whispered.
Without another word the image obeyed.
Hutch's wounds slowly healed, and gradually he started to accept the current reality he was in, recovering enough to give a statement to the police. To Dobey's satisfaction, the blond's revelation that Karl had been the one who'd killed Tommy didn't miss its effect on Helen and her three brothers. They caved and spilled the beans on Forest and his entire operation. Hutch's name was officially cleared, and Karl was now wanted for murder one.
Starsky didn't feel too well. The doctors had cautioned him to take it easy if he didn't want to have a relapse, but he hadn't exactly obeyed, and after a shouting match with the chief surgeon in charge of his partner, the brunet had lain down quietly – fully clothed - on his bed. He had thrown the doc's recommendations back into his face, announcing that as soon as Hutch was feeling better, he would take him home, and not, as the man pushed him to do, to the psychological ward.
Although he was long since released from the hospital, Starsky stubbornly remained at his partner's side. This didn't go down to well with the doctors either. Finally, Dobey had to step in, and ordered the staff to allow Starsky to guard Hutch, since Karl was still at large.
The brunet felt as if he'd swallowed a fistful of stones every time Hutch looked at him. The man was cold, distant. There was none of the old Hutch left in those eyes. There wasn't a shred of comfort, a shred of compassion, a shred of love. Shivering, Starsky wondered if the doctors had been right. That Hutch needed to be admitted. No. He's been locked up enough to last him a lifetime. He doesn't need any more people messing with his mind.
Although he had acted pretty much like himself, Hutch hadn't said much to either Huggy or Dobey, that day. He just answered their questions politely and even put in a joke or two. On the outside, all seemed well. But all parties present knew it was a whole different ballgame on the inside.
It was late in the evening, and after one of his failed efforts to try getting the blond to show some feeling, any feeling it all, Starsky had given up. Lying down his bed, he looked over into the shadows. You're here, but at the same time, you're not. Although he knew that Hutch would never ignore him consciously, the blond's behaviour kept rubbing his guilt in, guilt on the one hand for not being there when his partner had needed him the most, but on the other for not feeling truly sorry for his six months with Belinda. God Bell, I'm so sorry that you had to-" He closed his eyes, forcing down grief.
Finally he drifted away into an uneasy slumber.
"Starsk?"
The lone voice sounding small in the dark room awoke the brunet at once.
Starsky turned his head to face his partner. "Yeah," he spoke softly, "What is it?"
No answer came forth.
He turned on the overhead lights, which instantly bathed the room in a soft yellow glow, to find his partner staring at the ceiling, and trembling beneath the sheets. "Hutch?" He jumped out of bed to move over.
"Tell me," Hutch's voice quivered as he spoke. Fear filled blue eyes focussed onto the brunet. A pain whirled deep within them as Hutch apparently tried to wake up from this terrible nightmare, "Tell me it was all a bad dream."
His voice sounded like the blond Starsky knew, a small and terrified voice, which had trouble finding its way out. Hutch reached out a hand. It felt cold in Starsky's palm, and instinctively he started to rub it with his thumb, "Hutch, it's over… you made it… you're out."
The blond shook his head, his eyes unfocussed, seemingly to watch straight through Starsky. "I can't… see you anymore, all I see… is Karl…and Tommy. Starsk…" he stopped, gasping and clenching his eyes shut in a wave of pain that had nothing to do with his physical state.
Starsky felt the fist beneath his touch clench, so he grabbed onto it with both hands. The contact seemed to ease the trembles somewhat.
Hutch continued in a whispered hoarse voice, "I don't want that anymore… I want it… to stop… Can you make it stop?"
Starsky had to bite his lip to quell the rising anger forming inside and held the fist down against Hutch's chest. "Shhhh, I'm here… I'm right here. Karl's gone."
"He is?
"Yeah."
"He left me?"
What? Starsky thought confused. "Hutch," he said with an angry bite to it, pinching the hand for a second to get the blond focussed on him again. "You're in the hospital. The dream's over, buddy."
Hutch turned to look at him, recognition flowing back into his features. Then he pulled his hand back and turned away to lie on his side. "I know," he said softly.
Stubbornly trying to maintain the contact, Starsky jumped onto the bed. "Hey, I called your parents, yesterday."
"Yeah?"
Though he couldn't see his face, Starsky couldn't help but notice the hint of coldness in the blond's voice. "Yeah, it was the first time I've ever heard your mother cry."
Silence answered that statement.
Starsky had the feeling that his partner needed to hear this and went on, "They never stopped looking. Did you know that?" Hutch's breathing started to sound shallow, and the brunet knew his partner was trying to keep in suppressed emotions, so he purposefully added, "Dobey told me your father even has a lawsuit running against the department."
Despite the agony it must have caused to his broken ribs, Hutch crawled in on himself.
Starsky put a hand on the blond's shoulder in an attempt to soothe the impact his story seemed to have on him. Trying very hard to ignore his partner's misery, at the same time, Starsky continued cheerfully, "They wanna come see ya."
Hutch carefully turned to lie on his back with a pain filled expression on his face, staring at the ceiling. "What…" he swallowed away a tear. "What about your mother?"
"Well, you know how she hates flying," he replied, carefully checking to see if Hutch's bandages hadn't loosened, "So I promised her we'll pay her a visit as soon as you're well enough."
That wasn't exactly true. His mother had wanted to fly overright aftershe'd heard his voice, and said as much.This was seconds after she'd yelled at him through her tears to not ever do something like this to her again. He had held her off, gently, just as he'd told Hutch's parents not to come immediately, for he knew both he and his partner needed to heal first.
"I can't… I can't see them… not yet."
"Don't worry. It won't happen until I give the green light."
"Thanks," Hutch relaxed a bit.
"Do you think you can manage to catch some sleep, buddy?"
Hutch closed his eyes and nodded.
After giving a gently squeeze in his partner's arm, Starsky moved back to his own bed. It bothered him that Hutch had never really looked at him once.
The next day Hutch was back to his cold self. It started to affect Starsky physically. He was getting more tired each day, but patiently kept trying to reach out, always pulling back when Hutch wanted him to, never acting angrily at his partner's rejections.
Then sometimes at night, and only at night, the old Hutch was back. A broken, pain filled man, who latched on to Starsky, but never quite seemed to gain the strength to climb out of the pit he'd fallen into. At those times, Starsky just held him, told him it was all right, that he was here, and that he would never leave him again.
It didn't help much.
After one such particularly bad night, in which Starsky had nearly exhausted himself trying to soothe the quivering blond, and believed he finally managed to establish some form of permanent contact, the brunet had woken up, to find Hutch staring at him with cold, empty eyes again.
It all became too much.
The look Hutch shot him was one of utter contempt, apparently at finding the brunet to be still there. Starsky got dressed and moved away before the blond could throw his bitter words at him. He left the room, as an angry rage, filled with frustration and unchecked emotion, threatened to spill out.
He marched over to the vending machine and hit it hard with his fist. Forcing down the tears that had momentarily glazed his eyes, he caught his breath and calmed down somewhat.
"Starsky, are you all right?" The gruff voice of his captain sounded hesitantly through the hallway.
Heaving, Starsky whipped around, trying to keep his feelings from Dobey, but knowing he might as well not bother, for the man looked at him the way a father would, with a frown on his face, and sympathy hidden underneath. For a moment the brunet was at a loss for words.
Dobey seemed to notice and said, "It might do you some good to know that we've got Karl in custody."
Starsky looked his captain straight in the eye, "When?"
"He was brought in this morning. The FBI tipped us on his whereabouts."
"Guess he's going to take the fall for them, isn't he? Is he talking?"
Dobey shook his head in a negative, then added quickly as he seemed to notice the look in the brunet's eyes, "No, and I don't think you harassing him is going to do any good!"
"He's mine, Captain," Starsky said in a voice as cold as Hutch's. "I need to know what happened to my partner. And he's gonna tell me."
"Yeah, well…" Dobey said soberly, "just promise me that you'll leave the furniture intact this time."
Starsky nodded grimly.
"Come on, I'll give you a ride to the station." They walked to the exit. "By the way, we got your car there too, so you can get back here on your own."
"Thanks, Cap." Starsky said, distracted.
"And wear this," Dobey handed him a holster, Beretta and shield. "I can't have you marching through the station without it. And try not to loose them next time. Do you know how expensive these are?"
Starsky couldn't help but smile softly at his Captain's casual berating. It felt good. It felt normal. And God, he needed a bit of normalcy right now. But then the smile faded as he thought of the job ahead of him. Karl. He honestly couldn't tell how he would react to facing that man again.
Dobey seemed to read his mind, "Starsky?" When the brunet didn't respond he stated more demandingly, "Starsky!"
The brunet looked at him.
"You're still a cop, remember that."
Starsky nodded silently.
"Do you really want me to tell you what happened to him?" Karl said in a voice bereft of all warmth as he sat at the small wooden table in one of Metro's interrogation rooms. "For one thing, he killed Tommy."
Starsky threateningly moved in closer towards him, until he could smell the cold evil breath the man released. "You're going down for murder One, Karl. Both Helen and Hutch's testimonies will make sure of that. It makes no difference what you claim to be true, so you might as well spill it."
The man shrugged, and then spoke monotonously, "I broke him."
There was a brief silence in which Starsky stood up to face the wall behind him. He refused to believe it was that bad. There was always hope. But as he continued to listen, his thoughts halted at the scenes the man was so vividly describing. Scenes that slowly but steadily chopped away at Hutch's walls.
He didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to hear how bit by agonising bit Karl had managed to tear the blond apart. Because listening to it, he knew Karl had succeeded. He clenched his fist so tight he almost broke his own fingers as the description went on and on.
When Karl started to tell how he'd used Tommy to break through Hutch's last barrier, Starsky shivered. For he knew Hutch, he knew exactly what this would do to him. The brunet's eyes turned cold as Karl apparently started to relive the whole scene, and happily described what they had said to Hutch, that it was the blond's own fault that his partner had left him. How he had screamed in the end.
Starsky drew his gun.
Oblivious to the danger he was in, Karl Forest blatantly went on, only to stop mid-sentence when he found the brunet aiming the muzzle of the Beretta at his chest. Karl froze.
Starsky stood stock still, he didn't move a muscle, didn't even quiver.
For a second, real fear surfaced in Karl's eyes as he noticed the hot blue fire raging beneath brown curls in a face devoid of any feeling.
"Murder one, Detective," Karl gulped in a small voice, "Murder one."
The brunet wanted nothing more than to shoot a hole through the man who had made Hutch what he was now, cold. A lot of his partner's actions started to make sense. The only thing stopping him from pulling the trigger was the fact that Karl was right. He would be no better than the man sitting in front of him, if he were to kill him right now. The partner Hutch had tried so desperately to protect and had thrown out of that warehouse so many months ago, the husband that Belinda had loved so much. That man would be gone.
Starsky lifted his gun with a jerk, and angrily marched towards the door to roughly pull it open. He walked out, leaving behind a quivering Karl, who breathed a sigh of relief.
The brunet's stomach threatened to rebel and spill out its entire contents, causing him to stagger into the adjoining observation room. His always present guilt took over, becoming a writhing, living thing, now forcing its way out. Why hadn't he been there? How could he have just lived this happy life, oblivious of his partner's trials? How could he have let this happen? How could anyone have let this happen?
A deep powerful anger rose up out of the depths of his very being, making him storm out of the observation room in blinding fury.
The squad room occupants all fell silent as Starsky burst in and walked straight through to the captain's office. Before Dobey had a chance to berate his Detective on his disrespectful entry, the brunet was already all over him, "Where the hell were you? Huh? How could you've let this happen? Six months, and you couldn't find him? SIX GODDAMN MONTHS! What have you been doing all that time?
"Starsky, we've-"
But the brunet was far too worked up to stop now as the events were catching up with him right then and there. "NO! You should've figured out where they kept him! You shouldn't have just left him there!"
"STARSKY!" His Captain yelled, standing up abruptly.
The brunet fell silent.
"Don't you think we've tried? We turned over every stone in this town! I had everyone looking for you two, both on and off duty. We got nothing. And if we did get something, the Feds cut us off at the pass! When they ordered me to drop the investigation, God, help me I did. What the hell was I supposed to do? Go vigilante with the whole department?
"Well, you shouldn't have listened to them! You shoulda kept lookin'! You shoulda…!" Starsky suddenly realised the words he shouted were manifestations of his own feelings. Guilt started to consume him and he stopped, turning around as his eyes wetted around the rim. He bit his lip and just stood there.
Dobey sat in silence for a while as he let Starsky pull himself together. The brunet was grateful for that. Then his captain walked around the desk to sit down on it. "I did, son. I never stopped, and neither did Huggy. He found out what Karl was up to way before the police did. That's how we were able to arrive at that farm in time, the way we did."
"You were too late," Starsky said, staring at the wall.
"You're both alive, that's what counts."
Starsky ran a hand across his face, unable to hide his despair any longer. "He's not. Not really, he's all broken up inside."
"He'll get well, just give him time."
Starsky turned towards him, his face a mixture of anger and grief. "You don't get it do you? I can't fix it… I can't reach him… it's too deep… I just… can't."
Dobey frowned. "Did Karl tell you what happened?"
The brunet took a deep sigh, before speaking up, "They destroyed him, captain." He walked over to the door as Dobey had fallen silent. "Plain and simple."
Then he left, closing the door behind him with a loud bang.
Chapter 30
The anger just wouldn't leave him. The adrenaline made him speed all the way back to the hospital where he marched back to Hutch's room, only to walk up and down the isle, because in his present state he didn't want to face his partner.
"Is everything all right, Detective?"
Starsky stopped dead in his tracks as he looked up to find Delilah standing a few feet away with a sympathetic smile on her face. Caught off guard he just nodded, "Yeah, 'm fine."
Delilah walked over to him. "Huggy told me what happened. I came to see how you were doing."
Starsky glanced over his shoulder to his partner's room. He needed a bit more time to cool off and didn't want to take Delilah in there just yet. "Well, I was just about to head for the cafeteria to get me something to eat." He gave her a grin, "How 'bout you join me?"
Delilah answered it with a widening smile. "Now that's an offer I can't refuse, Detective."
A few minutes later they had settled down at a table not too far from the counter. The cantina was reasonably filled with all kinds of people. Though Delilah dutifully drank all of her coffee and ate a sandwich, Starsky kept prying into his food with his fork, not feeling hungry at all.
"It's hard, isn't it?"
"Hmmm? What?" Starsky looked up in surprise, momentarily mystified as to what she was talking about.
"It's hard, trying to regain what you've lost."
Hesitating for a second, Starsky sat back, giving up his efforts to try and eat something and dropping his fork on the plate. "Yeah, well… at least I got my memory back."
"So, what's wrong?"
Starsky shrugged. "It's Hutch, half the time he doesn't even know I'm there, and when he does, he goes out of his way to ignore me."
Her face fell in sympathy. "These things are very complicated, Detective. But you can believe me when I say that, although it may not look like it, you're the one who's keeping him together. Don't give up hope, David."
Starsky sighed, "Who's giving up?" After a brief silence he continued, "So, this is what you meant when you told me that his future felt very lonely? You know, back when we first met?"
"It's a consequence." Delilah stated.
"Just as Belinda was," he said bitterly, "Just a consequence."
"You feel guilty," Delilah stated.
"Yeah."
"What d 'you think your partner would say if you could tell him about Belinda? About your love for her? About your dilemma?
Starsky gave a quick shake of his head, "He won't hold it against me. More likely he understands it, goes out and buys me an Italian diner." The thought somehow lightened his heart.
Then he turned gloomy again. "He's not always this way you know." Starsky said, referring to Hutch's cold demeanor. He explained how he'd suddenly found Hutch lying next to him in his bed, how the blond sometimes did reach out for him in the middle of the night.
A soft sad smile graced Delilah's features. "Yes, another consequence. The close contact is the soul's way of healing itself. A lot has been 'broken' between you two. Your bond is like a broken bone, it needs to be put close together to knit properly. Distance will not help the healing process, only closeness and minimal friction. Hutch may not want to acknowledge your presence, but his soul does. It knows you're here and acts on it when his guard is down."
"Like at night… or when he first woke up?"
She nodded.
"Will he ever… you know… heal?"
Delilah looked at him for a moment, taking slightly too long to reply.
Starsky could read the answer in her eyes. She didn't believe Hutch would ever be the man he once was, that part of him would always stay cold, and lost forever. She'd probably never seen anyone fully recover from this, and believed that it would take a miracle for Hutch to ever be able to reach out to anyone ever again.
She lowered her head as she had no answer for him.
Starsky noddedin grim defiance. She doesn't know you, Hutch. You're strong. Whatever it takes to get you to bounce back onto your feet again, I'll handle. After all, it's what Bell died for. Besides, I don't have a choice, buddy. I can't live without 'me and thee.'
Following Lilly's advice, Starsky determinedly stayed at the hospital, refusing to budge an inch until the blond had been released, much to Hutch's chagrin. Starsky's fear that Delilah was right made him anxious and tense, causing him to walk out on the blond on more than one occasion.
Hutch's continuing coldness started to affect him deeply.
The blond's distant, bitter behavior became daily routine, and the times in which Hutch did open up simply vanished after while. Seeing Hutch this way, knowing that his partner was once capable of so much care, and so much love that he would even stop to give a small sad stranger- a kid- some money to cheer the boy up, made the brunet turn ever more quiet.
It also kept his body from healing the way it should have been. He started to feel sick; a nagging inconvenience at first, but it gradually increased as he kept ignoring the doctor's warning against a possible relapse and didn't take the time to rest and recuperate.
Finally, the blond was allowed to go home.
Hutch stared at the brunet in undisguised anger, who stood frozen just inside the door, as the blond spoke harshly, "Ever since I've been home, you've practically been living on my doorstep! Well I don't like it!"
Venice Place had felt… odd to him at first. He kept waking up, thinking he was still in that basement. No matter that he was out, the deep dark pit, which he had been thrown into, still kept his soul a prisoner. A part of him had never left that cellar; a part was still in there.
On occasion, he would turn around, while standing in the kitchen for instance, positive that Karl was watching him and was about to give an order that would mean another two hours of hell for Hutch. The blond knew it was over, that Karl was in custody and that he was back living his own life, but somehow he just couldn't muster the strength to release the terror still inside him.
He did notice Starsky's increasing quietness, the tired rim around his eyes and the brunet's paling features. He watched from a distance as though he was watching someone on television, watched, as the brunet started to walk around more and more like a zombie. And on those times he tried to reach out, fought to raise a hand, and always lost. His attempts waning at the realisation that he just couldn't do it.
Sometimes, at night, when he'd seen Starsky exhausting himself during the day, when he realised this was killing him, he cried out in his sleep as he'd desperately tried to crawl up the steep walls of his inner confines, leaving his mind's fingers raw and bleeding. The pain increasing unbearably as he fell back into darkness again.
He'd been home for a couple of days now, and Starsky was always there, forcing him to think, to feel, to reach out. But the rupture of their bond still bled inside Hutch, he just couldn't quell it, so the brunet's presence only caused the pain to slowly become unbearable, making the blond wanting to scream at his partner to just go away, much as he'd once screamed at Karl, "This is all you're going to get, Starsky! There isn't anymore! The Hutch you knew is gone! Can't you get that through your head?"
Starsky didn't speak.
Hutch knew the words hit him hard, but he was unable to care about that. "If you can't accept that, than get out! Give me some space, for crying out loud! You're not my mother! GET OUT!"
The brunet lowered his head, then without a word he turned and left.
Hutch fell silent at the soft click of the door, his own words echoing through his head, get … out!
He took a step back as a pain-filled feeling stirred inside him, get… get out. He sank down on the couch in shock; his eyes stinging at the sudden memory, as he saw himself throw Starsky out of that warehouse…feeling the sudden wave of love that had made him do it.
I couldn't let Karl…
I couldn't…
He felt something inside him break free at the recollection of his compassion and sacrifice to save his partner. Taking a few deep breaths he managed to control his feelings. He still couldn't believe Karl was gone, didn't dare to believe it and closed his eyes.
Trembling from head to toe Starsky had stepped into the parked Torino in front of Venice Place and tried to recover enough strength to either start it up, or to go upstairs and face Hutch again, who he knew, would either ignore him, or throw him out.
The damn nausea was back again as remnants of the drugs took the opportunity to hit him hard. He felt sick and had to lower his head and arms on the steering wheel for a while.
Lately, remnants of the drug more and more often seemed to take control over his mind and body. Feelings of vertigo would happen for no reason at all and his hold on reality would slip, just for a few seconds, making him unable to fathom whom he was, and what he was doing in this city. But despite these occasional set backs, he had managed to hold on and physically he was getting better.
However, Hutch's last outburst had blown his unstable control to smithereens. At that moment in that living room he'd suddenly become aware of the emptiness between them, of the stranger now filling Hutch's shoes. The blond's continuous rejections had already chipped away the last of his reserves. It was all too much. He needed his partner. He needed to know they were going to get through this, the both of them. But it just wasn't there anymore.
He had lost; they both had lost.
Starsky bit his lip as his body recoiled with the pain of loss. Belinda's death… Hutch… It all caught up with him. The nausea intensified, the familiar headache appeared and all Starsky could do was sit there, falling apart as his control over the drug slipped.
He sat silent for a few minutes, until the world finally stopped spinning, and with a heavy heart he decided to head up again. Starsky knew Hutch would probably nail him to the wall for showing up at his doorstep again, but he didn't have much of a choice. He was in no condition to drive and at the very least needed the blond's phone to call a cab.
He knocked the door out of sheer politeness. When there was no answer he let himself in. "Hutch?"
His partner was sitting on the couch, head in his hands and eyes closed. Without looking up he said bitterly, "What are you doing here? Didn't I tell you to… get … out?" Hutch opened his eyes to look at him.
There was a pain there, which Starsky had only seen one time before, an image engraved in his mind as he'd backed off out of the storage facility. Also, he didn't miss the hesitatingly spoken last two words. Ignoring the question, the tired brunet sat himself down opposite the blond on the table, Hutch's contemptuous look following his every move. "Hutch, why did you throw me out of that factory? Do you remember? Why did you do that if you don't care?"
"I told you to leave it alone, Starsk." Hutch said quietly, standing up to walk away from the brunet once again.
No, buddy. Not this time, Starsky thought. Groggy but determined Starsky staggered after him and grabbed him by the shoulders.
"Let me go," Hutch's demand sounded firm, yet at the same time Starsky could sense his hidden confusion.
"No."
Hutch tried to shrug him loose, but having anticipated this, the brunet tightened his grip and forcefully turned him his way. "Hutch I am here! I'm real, look at me! LOOK AT ME!"
He saw the panic rising in the blond's eyes, just a fraction of a second before it made the man lash out, flinging Starsky against the piano.
The brunet sank down, momentarily stunned at his partner's actions. But he didn't give up… he couldn't. "Hutch… you just gotta… remember." Slowly, he sat up, to rest his head against the wood of the instrument. To his horror, the agony deep within his soul started to intensify again, and he was starting to feel that same state of awful forgetfulness he'd felt right after Karl had injected him. Unable to stop it from happening, Starsky knew he had a relapse. He spoke in soft despair, "I know you're in there…"
Hutch restlessly paced the room, and then walked up to the window to bang his fist against the sill. "Starsky, I… I can't… I…"
"Can't what… partner?" the brunet asked softly, forcing the words out.
Hutch looked out the window, watching the pale blue sky, "I know that I … I threw you out… out of that warehouse I mean… b… but I can't… I can't get out. It just doesn't work that way."
"Hutch, it's over. Karl's gone. You're out. And the reason I know … is cos… cos I carried ya, all…all the way over the… threshold." Starsky gave a weak grin, "And you're not even my type."
The blond turned. Starsky could see his eyes starting to shimmer as he desperately tried to cover the necessary few feet that would bring him to his partner's side. The dilemma was clear on his face. But he didn't move.
"Hey Hush," the brunet said, feeling the darkness closing in. It was so damned hard to keep awake. "It isn't so bad not remembering anything," he whispered, closing his eyes. "You're… right. It's a whole… lot… easier… this… way." The familiar numbness was taking over, relentlessly spreading through his system.
Suddenly he heard determined footsteps. For a second he was afraid that Hutch was about to pick him up to throw him roughly out of the house. He flinched, trying to move away from his partner. But then warm arms wrapped themselves around him, and a body pulled the brunet into a trembling embrace.
The touch was electrifying.
Surprised, Starsky looked up to find Hutch holding him, eyes clenched shut and shaking like a leaf. Miraculously, the brunet felt the life starting to flow back into him. Using the warmth coursing through his partner's touch, Starsky managed to clear his head a bit. Ever so slowly the effect the remnants of the drug were having started to wear off and after a short while, Starsky felt well enough to sit up a bit.
He placed a hand on the cheek of his partner, who just shook his head as the brunet's touch caused wave after wave of tension and terror to finally release itself. Starsky held his hand steady, letting the trembles beneath his hand wash over into him. Deep inside, he could almost feel a soft click, a connection re-establishing itself, and the warmth intensified.
Hutch opened his eyes. They looked at each other, a wet film started to glaze the blond's eyes, as shivers of both fear and relief still shot up his body and he smiled.
Starsky smiled back, swallowing away a lump in his throat he said hoarsely "Hey, welcome back, Blintz."
His partner started to look down, unable to speak. Starsky pulled him in, buffering the silent trembles and soft sobs, until they finally subsided.
The brunet sat slightly back to hold a slack Hutch at arm's length. Starsky's wide grin answered the soft smile. "Knew you were in there somewhere… I was right; you're tougher than you look."
"You all right?" Hutch asked hoarsely, in a voice Starsky had desperately missed.
"Yeah, I think I'm ready to hit the streets in a second," Starsky joked softly. God, the bantering felt good.
Hutch smiled. "Sure… just let me get my jacket."
Somehow that struck Starsky as incredibly funny and he started to laugh, but then grew serious. "I'm sorry… for… for leaving you… If I'd been there…"
"Starsk," Hutch took a moment to pull himself together before speaking again. "If you'd stayed…we'd both be dead. I'm not sorry for what I did. I couldn't let Karl…" he stopped, and took a deep sigh.
"Hey." When Hutch didn't listen, he repeated, "HEY."
The blond shot him a glance.
"Karl told me what happened," Starsky gently grabbed his partner's shoulder to make sure Hutch was listening. "And whatever he told you, about you, or me, or your family, it ain't true, you hear me? None of it's true. And just so you know, I won't be going anywhere for awhile."
"That's cos you feel nauseous and dizzy Starsk." Hutch said casually.
For a second the brunet was stunned at his partner's insightful statement, because that was exactly how he felt. "Well, it's not too bad," he shrugged. "I'm just gonna have to wait until your living room gets tired of all this spinning, that's all."
"Don't give me that crap, Starsky. You had a relapse, didn't you?"
Starsky's face fell. "Well, yeah… maybe."
"Starsky," the blond said impatiently. Anger at what happened suddenly flashed the blond's eyes a bit brighter. Then it disappeared, leaving a spent Hutch behind.
The brunet couldn't help but release a relieved sigh. Suddenly, he felt queasy again.
Hutch seemed to sense it and put his arm around him.
Starsky leaned in and spoke gratefully, "Glad to have you back partner, glad to have you back."
"Hutchinson! HUTCHINSON!"
Hutch turned to see his Captain trying to meet up with him. The sweat on his brow, which he was now wiping away with a handkerchief, told him Dobey had probably spotted him entering the prison and had run after him. "Cap, what are you doing here?"
"Oh, you know, the usual business." Dobey frowned. "Are you all right? You look… different."
"Well, let's just say I've been cured."
The stern commander released some of his grim posture as a genuine smile lid his face. "Hey, that's good, that is… really good."
"Yeah," Hutch stated, always feeling a bit awkward when his Captain started to get mushy.
"Where's Starsky?" Dobey asked warily.
The confused look on the Captain's face was almost amusing. Hutch reassured him, "Captain, I'm fine. A bit shaky, but fine. Starsky's at home, he needs the rest, besides there's something I need to do alone."
"D' you think that's wise?"
Hutch nodded. It was just as he thought. The moment Dobey had seen him; the man had known exactly what he was up to.
"Captain, with all due respect, you're not gonna stop me. He is here isn't he?"
Dobey sighed, apparently coming to the conclusion that if Starsky hadn't stopped him, then who was he to argue. "Yeah, he's locked up, awaiting trial. In the mean time we've been trying to get him to confess to Tommy's murder, nothing so far."
"He knows he's a dead man if he admits he's done it, Cap."
The man nodded in agreement. "Well? What are you waiting for? Go on," Dobey ordered, brusquely. Hutch gave him a small salute and walked away.
Hutch stood quietly for a while, hands over the doorknob, before opening the door and stepping inside the small room to which Karl had been transferred. "Give me five minutes," he said to the guard standing outside the door.
The guard nodded.
Karl sat boringly at a small wooden table. On Hutch's orders the guards had removed his handcuffs, and the man could move freely through the room if he wanted to. It would have been a lot easier for the blond to talk to a restrained man, but Hutch didn't want that. He needed to know if he could do this, if he was still the cop he once was; one who wouldn't let himself be intimidated by a man like Karl, whether the crime boss was handcuffed or not.
Karl's face was a mixture of anger and frustration as he spoke, "What's this all about? I told you a thousand times all ready. I didn't do it! God, my lawyer is going to have a field day with you people. You can't just keep…" He stopped when he recognised the blond. An evil grin darkened his features, "Well, well, well, look who has come to join the party. I guessed you've missed our little sessions together, didn't you?"
Hutch closed the door behind him, and then slowly walked over to the table, his posture stiff with barely concealed anger. Biting his lip he forced himself to keep his voice calm, "We're going to put you away for a long, long time, Karl." He leaned in a bit closer and sneered, "Be happy pal, because I'm gonna make sure you're going to the same place your brother's being held."
Karl paled visibly. "You wouldn't."
"Try me," Hutch said mercilessly.
"He won't hold me responsible for Tommy! Y… you did it."
"Karl, I don't think Ben's fellow inmates will agree." Hutch stated, and stood up straight. As the man started to shake, Hutch added, "You won't make it through the first day."
"All right, all right! It… it was an accident! You were there! You saw it! You gotta… tell 'em that it was an accident! Yes, I shot him. But I didn't plan it! He was my brother's son for God's sake. What kind of a brother would do something like that on purpose! I could never… I couldn't!" The man was snivelling now, terrified at the prospect of having to face Ben Forest who would probably kill him for what he had done. "I … he's my brother! You know what that's like! He's family! And so was Tommy!"
Hutch's finger shot out as a bitter anger forced its way up his throat. "You don't know what it's like to have a brother."
Karl took a deep breath, obviously realising that all was lost anyway. He visibly calmed down and said, "And I suppose you do, huh?"
Hutch moved away to stand over by the door. Karl stood up and went to stand behind him. He whispered evilly in his ear, "I may have killed Tommy… and thus signed my own death warrant, but at least I got the satisfaction that at some point, I had you, Hutchinson."
Hutch froze.
"The pain is still there? Isn't it? Deep down inside? Come on, you can tell me. I'll always be there, you know, in your sleep and in your dreams. The pain will never go away, because I broke you once, and someday, partner, I will do it again."
Hutch felt Karl putting a hand on his shoulder.
The blond turned in one swift motion, and his fist connecting hard with the man's jaw. He actually felt the jawbone shatter beneath the impact. Karl flew backwards over the table, where he came to a skidding halt at an awkward position, knocked out cold.
"I already have a partner." Hutch spoke fiercly to the man now draped unconsciously across the tabletop.
God, that felt good, he thought. The blond took a deep breath, and let the bitterness flow from his body. Something he hadn't been able to do for a long time. Suddenly, he felt whole again, strong, and ready to take on the world. He wasn't alone; and slowly began to realise that he had never been alone. Starsky had been right. As long as this connection they seemed to be having was there, nothing could really get to them.
With that knowledge tucked away deeply in his heart, Hutch quietly left the room.
Epilogue
Starsky dropped down against the bark of huge beech tree. He watched his partner squatting at Tommy's grave to place a bouquet of daisies on top of it. The graveyard was lying peacefully in the warm evening sun, with only a few people visiting it.
They'd both just returned from Burnaby. There Starsky had held his own memorial service at Belinda's grave. Hutch had stayed in the background, ready to pick up the pieces afterwards. After that they'd gone to visit the restaurant. It was his now, but Starsky had decided to sell it to Bell's aunt. Although Belinda's relatives and friends had only been told that Bell had been murdered during her honeymoon, and that Starsky had taken quite a beating himself, the brunet just didn't feel comfortable enough to keep the establishment. He didn't belong here, and felt incredible sorry for the grief he had caused these people. They hadn't stayed long. For one thing they were both still quite shaky from their whole ordeal and tired easily. So, after taking care of the necessary paperwork they'd headed back.
Starsky closed his eyes for a second to breathe in the grassy scent of the evening air.
He sighed. It felt good to be back in Bay City again.
He opened his eyes to look at his partner who was now walking up to him. They had talked about what had happened, but hadn't taken the time yet to acknowledge the nature of their bond. Truth to be told, Starsky didn't want to delve too deeply into it. The whole thing kind of freaked him out. Luckily Delilah seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth. Another one of her premonitions and he was sure he would flatten her, lady or not, though he had to admit that she had helped them… a lot.
"Hey, partner. Ready to go?"
Starsky looked up to find Hutch leaning with one hand against the tree. "It's a nice evening, Hutch. Enjoy it for a while."
Hutch raised his eyebrows in surprise and teased. "That's usually my line. Could Burnaby really have changed you that much?"
The brunet grinned, "Let's just say I learned to appreciate the simple things of life a bit more."
Resigning to the situation, Hutch went to sit beside him. "If you hadn't come back… I don't know what would've happened. I really thought you had forgotten me…"
Starsky shook his head. "I did, I had… but… I dunno… I kept havin' these dreams, it was really weird. Because I couldn't remember you, I just kept having these… feelings, and sometimes pain. And I knew … deep inside… you know. Something felt wrong. I never truly forgot you, partner. Never."
"Yeah," Hutch said and looked away. "Deep inside… "
A brief silence followed as both men tried to come to terms with what had happened.
"Starsk, you told me we had this connection, right?"
"Yeah," Starsky said carefully, "I felt it snap, just after…" He paused, not wanting to dwell on how Karl had injected him. "Jeez, it hurt. You know, in hindsight, It was fortunate that the drug took over, cos I don't know what I would have done if it hadn't. The pain was awful."
"I know." Hutch said softly.
It took a full five seconds for Starsky to realise what Hutch was saying.
His eyes grew wide, snapping his head sideways he spoke, "Hutch, you're sayin'…" Suddenly Hutch's words came back to him when he'd first woken up. The blond had told him Starsky was gone, and that it hurt like hell.
Hutch let his head, rest back against the tree with a deep sigh. It took him a moment to speak up. "I didn't understand it at first, Starsk. "I've never felt anything like it. It made the bullet wounds feel ticklish in comparison." He paused slightly, before adding, "It took me a couple of days to figure it out."
Starsky watched him, silently. Having experienced some of that pain himself he was unable to fathom what it must've been like if you experienced it for days on end. No wonder Hutch had felt so lost. "Did it subside? After a while?" He spoke far calmer than he felt.
Hutch nodded sadly, "Yeah, but by then Karl had all ready…"
"Uhuh."
Hutch sighed again and shrugged. "In the end I just gave up."
Taking a deep breath, Starsky retorted, "With what you've been through, I think you were entitled to."
"Starsk, I never give up. You know that," Hutch muttered softly.
Inwardly Starsky had to smile at the blond's ability to remember his own strengths and weaknesses again. "So, you're only human. Welcome to the club, buddy."
Hutch turned towards him. "It's gone now."
Starsky raised an eyebrow.
"The pain, the emptiness, it's gone."
"That's cos I'm here."
"Either that or it's the chilly breakfast you force-fed me this morning."
Starsky grinned, spotting the weariness in the blond's eyes. The last few days had been tiresome and they could both use a good sleep. "Come on, beautiful… I'll take ya home."
And with a gentle nudge, Starsky steered both him and his partner away from the graveyard, and back into life."
Over in the distance Delilah saw them go. She smiled as she watched the two friends leave, arms around each others shoulders. She observed the bright light now surrounding the both of them, noticing the silver sparks joyously dancing around in it.
Her smile widened.
They would make it, they were strong again, and would be able to keep on fighting Bay City's darker side.
She looked down at her husband's grave. "When you died, you said I couldn't join you just yet. You said that there were still people around who needed me and that this was more important than my feelings for you… I didn't believe you."
She stared in the distance once again, watching the two men disappear beneath a large overhang of trees.
"I do now," she said with contentment, "I do now, my love."
The End.
