Residual

December 2020-January 9, 2021 By Startisparticus2017

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the original characters. The stories are meant as entertainment. I do not receive compensation.

Description: Takes place after The Plague. Starsky ran around like a mad man to find Thomas Callendar to save Hutch. Starsky didn't leave Hutch's side once the antidote was given and runs himself down.

Chapter 1

The lighthearted banter echoed through the airport as they made their way to the exit. It was with sweet sorrow that Dr. Judith Kaufman departed as the beautiful doctor had a soft spot for the blond detective. Hutch, although thinner and still holding a fragment of the fatigued-drawn look, was happy to be among the living, thanks to his determined partner.

Finding Thomas Callendar was one thing, bringing him in alive was another. Doctor Meredith and Judith made it clear that Callendar held the antibodies to create the antidote and cure for Hutch. The only problem was Callendar was a well-known assassin out to kill Roper, the disreputable crime boss. Lieutenant Jake Donner had lost his life to the plague, and an innocent boy hung in the balance of life or death. Perhaps labeling Starsky as 'determined' wasn't exactly the correct word; he could be more easily classified as a freight train without brakes.

They had reached the Torino, Hutch waited as his partner unlocked the car. The smile on his face glowed and then slowly dissipated as he watched his friend. Starsky appeared to be having difficulty navigating the chore of unlocking the car door. The clumsy almost lethargic movements suddenly became the focus of his mesmerized blond partner.

There was something different about his normally vibrant, dark-haired, partner. The shoulders appeared slack, as though something tremendously heavy pushed them down. Starsky appeared to be amused with the lack of coordination at the task at hand. The key word was 'appeared'. Underlying the amusement was evidence of a cover-up only known by someone close, like a partner, who notice the corners of his mouth were constrained. An unnatural smile that was lined with impatience. The efforts to laugh it off had become strained and complicated.

The tall blond bit his bottom lip and inhaled through his nasal passages. "Need some help, Starsk?" He emphasized his question with raise eyebrows.

Starsky shrugged his shoulders as the key had entered the door lock and turned it. "I got it." The reply was short, not just in wording, but dismissive. A wink followed as he pulled the door open and swooped into the driver's seat, a second later the car was started.

Hutch thought to himself, 'Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, did I miss something'? The click of the passenger side door being unlocked brought him out of his thoughts. Perplexed he opened the car door and entered.

Starsky shifted the car into gear then maneuvered the vehicle, and focused on the path ahead. Deafening silence hung in the air. The only sounds to be heard were the engine, and occasional directional light clicking. The familiar comfort of their partnership and friendship was still there, but Hutch felt alienated, no…not that, perhaps estranged. Deep in his own thoughts, he leaned his elbow on the window frame and rubbed his forehead occasionally peering over at the driver.

"If ya want to remain immortal and live one hundred forty-eight years, stop worryin' about me. Got it?" Although spoken calmly, the statement had been followed with a question that held a slight threat. The fixated glare ahead was momentarily interrupted with a sideways glance and muted smile. "Cap'n's been more than patient, I'll drop you off at your place and head in to finish some paperwork." A yawn was stifled. "Ya need your beauty sleep, Blondie." A half mischievous grin appeared.

Hutch pondered over the mood change from mildly hostile to tongue-in-cheek sarcasm. "Are you telling me I'm ugly, Buddy? If so, you could use the shut-eye to enhance your appearance. We both know that between the two of us, you're the ugly, neanderthal looking one." A friendly retort was followed by a wide, playful smile.

"Bite me!" With a shrug and slight toss of his head the brunet continued to drive.

Once again there were only ticking moments of quietness. Quickly, and discreetly, Hutch glanced at his partner feeling troubled.

Chapter 2

At Venice Place, Starsky had scaled the stairway carrying a duffle bag. Hutch followed him more slowly, but still with agility. Starsky dropped the bag in the bedroom and came out to greet his friend. "Rest, and that's an order, Detective. Hey, foods in the fridge." His eyes were wide, his voice held a trace of amusement. "I'll be back as soon as I can." He patted his partner's arm affectionately, but avoided eye contact and headed out the door.

In amazement, Hutch looked around the apartment which was organized, and smelled sterile clean. Everything was dusted. The floors were glossy and where there was carpet, it was vacuumed to perfection. Covering his mouth momentarily, Hutch went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator which was chock-full of vegetables, containers of soup and miscellaneous health food containers, along with goats' milk from his favorite natural food market. Closing the door, he went to the next task at hand, checking the cupboards which he found were also supplied with non-perishables, cereal, and supplements.

Shock was present as he closed the cabinet doors. He scanned the kitchen, then looked onto the parlor. "What the hell is going on?" Sheer amazement consumed him. "I've been in the hospital a week. Starsky's been at the office, hospital, every day and night since Callendar's been found." As though startled from his thoughts, he went to his plants sitting on the window sill of the kitchen. He took one of the little newly started plants and examined it. "Replanted, and watered." Unconsciously he placed the pot back as his eyes scanned around.

The blond quickly went to his home desk and found all his mail sorted and a small pile of bills. Each piece of paper noted a date, check number and amount paid. Placing them back onto the desk, Hutch retrieved his checkbook and the register showed deposits, and payments deducted. Raising his hand to his face, he placed the book back into the drawer. "When…how?"

Spontaneously, he went to retrieve the luggage that his partner had placed in the bedroom. The tall blond tossed it onto the bed and unzipped the top. The contents were clean, and folded neatly. Hutch sat on the bed slowly. In his hand was a pair of socks, and a shirt. His mouth was gaped open with surprise. "I've obviously missed something along the way…is he my partner or my maid? What is this pristine house attempt all about?"

Chapter 3

Starsky sat at his desk. Three empty cups of coffee were neatly set the right side of the table. He held a pencil in his mouth. His hair was wild and disheveled. Stacks of papers and file folders were scattered about between Hutch's side of the desk and his own. Captain Dobey entered through the double doors and stopped momentarily, the hardness of his features almost melting as he looked at his detective. He took a long deep breath. "Starsky, what the hell are you doing here?" There was no harshness to his voice, just compassion.

Startled, Starsky removed the pencil from his mouth and tossed it onto the desk in exasperation. He rubbed his eyes aggressively and pulled his hands down his face. "Last report, Cap. Hutch and I are all caught up till he comes back Monday." A smile raised the corners of his mouth, but it appeared almost painful to produce.

The Captain stared. He raised his large hand and pointed to his office door. "I'd like to see you in my office." The large man's hand fell to his side as he walked toward the open entrance.

The hung head, and guttural groan, were an indication that Starsky wasn't in the mood for a lecture. He stood, almost knocking the chair to the floor. He grasped his leather jacket and slid his arm in forcefully. He followed his Captain in and kicked the door with his foot causing it to slam. The Captain sat in his chair and simply watched his detective power-ass the chair and slump. "Starsky, I'll disregard the door this time. I want you to understand there won't be a next time. Understood, Detective?" The voice was low and gravely.

Starsky noted the tone and appeared to relax and push himself upright in the chair. "Sorry, Cap." A long sigh followed as he rubbed his eyes with his fingers from his left hand.

The Captain leaned forward and placed his elbow on the desk and perched his cheek onto his fisted hand. "Starsky, you're exhausted. Why don't you go home and get some rest, I'll see you here on Monday with your partner?" His eyebrows arched to emphasize his words. "You got Callendar, Hutch is on the mend. You busted your hump and saved a lot of people. Now go home and rest. That is an order!" The large man sat back in his chair, his dark chocolate eyes never leaving the figure sitting before him.

Slowly Starsky rose to his feet and nodded as he turned and exited the office quietly closing the door. The Captain watched. This wasn't the Dave Starsky he knew. The uneasiness that was beginning to stir in his gut left him completely unsettled. "Who and what just left my office?"

Chapter 4

The door to Hutch's apartment was opened slowly and quietly by Huggy, holding a large paper bag. The door was delicately closed. He sauntered toward the kitchen. Hutch catapulted from the couch where he had fallen asleep. His t-shirt was twisted and jogging pants were pulled up like high risers. "Starsky?"

The brown paper sack was placed onto the counter. "Sorry to disappoint you my tall, blond, friend. It's only me, The Bear." He tugged on his denim jacket and pulled the yellow neckerchief. "Curly called, said he'd be late and asked me to check in on ya. If I say so myself, and I do, you're lookin' good." He returned his attention to the unpacking of the bag.

Hutch adjusted his shirt and realigned his pants. He glanced at the clock that read 11:45 pm. "I was asleep for over eight hours." He rubbed at his eyes and yawned. "I appreciate you checking in on me, but it wasn't necessary. I am disappointed, but not at seeing you." A stretch and roll of the shoulders, his long legs carried him into the kitchen. "Why would Starsky be working at this time of night?" The Hutchinson 'I am worried' crease formed between his eyebrows.

Huggy pulled a wrapped sandwich and extended it to Hutch. "Anita's Aunt Gianna, made some lentil soup, and I made you a cheese sandwich. This is Greek lemon chicken and rice soup, compliments of Gianna." The container was opened for the tall blond to sniff.

Hutch took the pint container and began to sip it. The soup was gone in a matter of a minute. Another container was handed to him. To Huggy, the glow of color on Hutch's face was a welcome sign.

"This is really good, thanks Hug, thank Aunt Gianna for me." He saluted the tall thin black man with the carton in hand. "You didn't answer my question." Inquiring blue eyes observed Huggy as he sipped.

Huggy folded the brown paper bag and shook his head. "Observant…your guess is as good as mine, Sherlock. He's been one side of a disappearing act since he nearly ripped my shirt off in the parking lot a week ago." It was a tight-lipped response, followed with wide eyes.

Placing a lid on the soup bowl, Hutch's eyes wandered back to meet Huggy's. "What are you talking about?" A perplexed expression weighed his mouth open.

Huggy leaned onto the counter. "That highly, excitable, clump of curls you call a partner was wired and ready to pounce on anything and everything. I happen to be on the receiving end." He paused and noticed that Hutch was unaware of what happened. "The boy was spooked, and out for blood, Brother. I've seen him heated my-man, but this was…this was raw desperation." The long thin fingers rubbed his brow delicately. "You were in that hospital bed, but he…was livin' your pain."

Hutch bowed his head. "What else happened? My partner's been as quiet as a curator at a library." His hand cupped the back of his neck as he eyed Huggy. "It's either you spill it or I drive to Metro and check out the reports myself." The blue pools were clear and direct.

Huggy hesitated, then grinned. "You didn't hear it from me, ya dig?" A raise of one eyebrow followed his statement. "Donny the Duke spilled his guts after a few libations." The dark eyes widened. "Seems, Starsky, paid Roper a visit."

Hutch's eyes wandered from the counter to Huggy. Confusion and worry covered his features. "He what?" The elevation in his voice stunned The Bear.

Bowing his head, Huggy hesitated then looked back up at the blond. "Your partner laid it all out with Roper, he wanted Callendar alive…or else. Donny was there to do some business; he was in the next room. He heard it all. Claims Starsky was in no mood to bargain. Heated words were exchanged. Our man looked like a ferocious lion." A side smile formed. "I witnessed it, don't care to see that again, my man."

Alarmed, Hutch closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Let me guess, Roper took it personally and my partner was also on the hit list along with Callendar." A deep sigh was released. "He was reckless, impulsive, and careless." A hint of frustration clung to his words. "He could have gotten himself killed."

The tall thin man leaned forward and glared directly into the blond detective's eyes. "You were dying. The cat had no other choice. Hell, said he'd hock his car if it would save you," Huggy interjected with raised brows.

Hutch slowly turned and went to the kitchen table. He pulled out a chair and sat as he cupped his hand over his mouth. The hand slid upward and his fingers ran through his hair. "The very same thing I would of have done for him…have done."

Huggy had busied himself making coffee and poured two cups and casually sauntered to the table. He placed one coffee up in front of Hutch and sat sipping on his. "This stays between you and me, compadre. I about lost it when I saw him on the tube. The Yeager kid, and you…he 'bout begged for help. There wasn't a dry eye in the bar." He played with his coffee cup. "Anita, she said if she had someone that dug her as much as he digs you, she'd never let'm go."

A storm of mixed emotions flowed through Hutch as he chewed his bottom lip for a long moment. He tried to summon a smile through watery eyes. "My partner and soapy scenes." His voice was strangled. "He'll avoid it like the plague, no pun intended, but he really knows how to pour it on when push comes to shove." He pinched his lips together demonstrating a moment of angst mixed with admiration.

Chapter 5

Morning came and went as Hutch paced his apartment. He went to the phone and dialed the same number he had dialed numerous times that day. The handset slipped down the side of his face and into his hand which then guided it onto the cradle slamming it a little harder than he intended. "Starsky where the hell are you?"

A knock on the door startled Hutch. His long legs carried him there quickly. He opened the door briskly. Captain Dobey stood there with a basket of fruit. "You're looking good, Hutch."

Disappointed, the blond forced a smile and stepped back to allow the Captain in. The Captain placed the basket onto the kitchen table. "The frown on your face leads me to believe you were expecting someone else." His thick fingers tore the wrapping off the gift and extracted a pear. "Starsky called me and asked me to check in on you." The pear was raised to his mouth and followed by a snapping bite sound. The Captain looked around the apartment and raised his eyebrows. "I see Captain Clean was here."

Hutch crossed his arms over his chest. "If he shows up in a maid uniform, I'm having him committed." Worried blue eyes met the captain's dark glare. "From the look on your face, Captain, is there something going on here that I should be concerned with?" His eyebrows were drawn tight with concern.

The Captain chewed. His eyes averted momentarily, then looked back at Hutch. "Three cups of coffee, reports completed accurately…I threw him out last night. Whoever he was…I didn't recognize him." The Captain hesitated before taking another bite. "He's running on empty. Your desk, along with his was cleaned, and organized. Even the pencils were sharpened."

Hutch sat on the arm of the couch and covered his face with his hands and drew down with a heavy sigh. "He sent Huggy last night, now you. He's not answering his phone. What the hell is going on with him, Captain?" A shimmer of raw emotion coated his eyes as he looked at the large man.

Heaviness weighed on the Captain's features. He lost his appetite as he toyed with the half-eaten fruit. "You are what happened, Hutch. Starsky was clear out of his mind. It was all that Dr. Meredith and Dr. Kaufman could do to keep him out of your room. I don't think he's slept since you were diagnosed." The Captain pulled a chair and sat. "There was a foot search for Callendar. Your partner took charge of the search, from what I was told, it was intense. The officers really felt for him." The pear went from one hand to the other. "Something along the lines…a good partner is hard to find." A clearing of the throat followed this statement.

The Captain stood and made his way to the trash can and dumped the fruit. He turned to look at Hutch and shifted his shoulders back and straightened his posture. "I'm glad you are doing well, Hutch. I wouldn't worry too much; he's probably home sleeping it off." An attempt at encouragement was infused into his words. "Keep me posted, if you need more time off, let me know."

Cupping the back of his neck, Hutch nodded. "Thanks, Captain." He followed his superior to the door and watched as he left. A pair of shoes that sat near the closet met a doomed fate as Hutch kicked them across the room. "Why are you avoiding me? I'll give you a little more time, partner…but not too long."

Chapter 6

It was 10:00 pm. Hutch sat on the lounge chair reading a book, or at least attempting to read a book. He leaned his head onto the back of the lounger and closed the book and tossed it onto the side table. Slowly the tall blond rose to his feet and glanced at the wall clock. "He's a grown man Hutchinson, if he needs his space…he needs his space. Then again the only time Starsky needs his space is when he is in trouble." The phone startled the tall blond, he grabbed the handset to answer it. "Hello." A welcoming smile encompassed his face. "No…no it's not too late, Mrs…Mom."

Starsky's mother a shorter, darker haired version of her son played with the telephone cord. "I apologize for calling you this late, but I have not heard from David." Her voice faltered with worry." I thought perhaps you had taken a turn for the worse, Dear."

The expression on Hutch's face was of affection for this sweet woman. "I am doing well. David…has been catching up on work." The softness in his tone was meant to soothe the obviously concerned woman. "Is there something else bothering you?" Genuine concern enveloped the question.

Mrs. Starsky covered her mouth briefly with a tissue and pulled it away. "Ken, I am very worried. I know my son. Mothers know these things and my old gut is telling me he is in trouble. When he was a boy, especially after his father's death he…he would go for days without sleep. He would be wound up like a joker in the box." The tremble in her voice was evident.

Hutch closed his eyes as a brief smile formed at her analogy. The amusement dissipated and he tried to maintain a level of calm. "You mean a Jack in the box."

A faint chuckle escaped. She dabbed the corner of her eyes. "You mean the world to him, Ken. My son would be furious if he knew I mentioned this to you." A muted sob escaped. "My Davey is a man, but there is also a very…very scared little boy who lost his father. A witness to something no child should have had to endure. The boy returned when you entered his life. It was so nice to have my son happy again. Do you understand what I mean, Ken?" The question lingered in the air as a plea for help.

Bowing his head, Hutch rubbed the back of his neck. "I think I do. Don't worry, I'll talk to him. This will stay between you and me." He pulled his head back and dropped his arm to his side. A moment of silence hung as he nodded. "I love you too. Don't worry, I'm fine and your son will be too. Sleep well." A long sigh followed as he placed the handset onto the cradle of the phone, then walked toward the bathroom and closed the door.

Chapter 7

The apartment door opened slowly and soundlessly. Starsky stuck his head in and looked around. "Hutch?" The brunet entered at a snail's pace and cautiously; his eyes wandered around nervously. The sound of the shower running caught his attention. An expression of relief shadowed his tired features. He took a deep breath, then closed the door.

As he took his leather jacket off along with his holster and hung it near the door, he scanned the apartment again. Starsky sighed with a hint of amusement dangling around the corners of his mouth. He began the task of fluffing the pillows on the couch. Shaking his head, he took the half empty coffee cup from the side table, then placed the book onto the shelf near the chair. Dumping the coffee into the sink in the kitchen, the brunet continued the chores of cleaning. A dirty bowl and plate along with utensils were removed from the table.

In the bathroom, Hutch turned the faucet off and heard the soft clanking of dishes. He paused and listened as he wiped his face with a dry cloth. A pullover shirt was adjusted around his waist. Gently he turned the knob and opened the door and stepped out. Hutch stopped where he was, dumbstruck. His mouth gaped open as he watched. There was his partner, washing dishes. The stunned blue eyes slowly glanced over the apartment. Everything was clean and neat once again. Although he was appreciative, Hutch was also extremely concerned. He closed his eyes for a moment, then upon opening them stepped forward toward the kitchen. "Do you know what the going rate is for a housekeeper and the proper tip?"

Starsky was startled and dropped the coffee cup which shattered upon hitting the floor. "What'd you have to do that for, Hutch? Ya scared the heck outta me." All at once he pulled out a small broom and dust pan and began to clean up the debris. "Go and rest will ya. Hey how 'bout I make ya some scrambled eggs?" Starsky talked as he continued the task at hand.

Hutch leaned against the counter with his lips pressed together and released the breath he'd been holding. "Starsky, stop!" The request was soft yet demanding. "Starsk, STOP." The glare of wide blue eyes met his partner's upon the much louder request.

Starsky dumped the shards of the cup into the trash, then replaced the dustpan and broom under the sink. The brief eye contact ended with him turning his back on Hutch and wiping the counter. "Sorry 'bout the cup. I'll get ya a new one." The voice matched the body language of fatigue.

Hutch noted the slouched shoulders and the paleness of what he could see of David Starsky's face. The slight moment of a view of exhaustion with dull sunken eye sockets. "I don't care about the cup. However, I do care about you, Buddy."

The dish towel was folded and hung on the side of the sink. Starsky turned avoiding any eye contact and walked by his partner. "A fair tip would be three to five bucks…minus a buck for the broken cup." Deflecting Hutch's concern, he tried to conjure up some energy and continued to fuss with the plants on the end table. After a brief glance at his friend, Starsky headed toward the door and grabbed his coat and holstered gun hastily. "I'll stop by in the mornin'." He reached for the door knob and felt a presence near him and then one large Hutchinson hand on his wrist. The grip was gentle, but the intention was loud and clear with no need for spoken words.

Removing the hold he had the worried blond took the jacket and Starsky's weapon and hung them up. He turned and placed his hand on his friend's shoulder and guided him to the couch. The brunet held his head low and almost fell onto the couch. Hutch sat on the coffee table in front of him. The pallid skin, darkness beneath the eyes and thin face gave the detective all the clues he needed. Bowing his head momentarily, he sighed, then raised his head to focus on the worn-out individual before him.

"Starsk, I'm here…I'm okay. But you're running on empty."

Starsky's eyes were closed, he sucked his top lip inward as he played with his pinky ring. The fingers trembled. "It was all too real. What…what if I hadn't found Callendar?" A slight raise of the head and emotionally charged cobalt blue eyes made an appearance, then disappeared as he bowed.

A deep breath was drawn in then released as Hutch cupped the back of his own neck. Tenderly, the blond's knee lightly nudged his partner's. "I thought we decided to let go of the 'what ifs." The reserved soft-spoken voice held its weight in the moment. "I'm no expert, Buddy, but I've been in your shoes. You're scared, your best friend might…almost died." Raw sentiment colored each word. He took a deep breath. "Either way you look at this, Starsk…the adrenalin of it all, the what ifs, they are the residual of one big bad moment. This wasn't our first, probably won't be our last, Gordo." Sitting upright, Hutch cupped his face with both hands and drew then them downward.

Starsky's expression softened. Quivering fingers released the pinky rings and move so that his arms were crossed over his chest. "Cold hard truth, Blondie. When ya put it that way it makes sense. In my head, not so much." Starsky jumped to his feet. "It's not about me…you need your rest, Hutch." The abruptness caused him to sway and ride a wave of dizziness. He closed his eyes feeling a sense of calm and stability and the touch and comfort of two hands holding him. Upon reopening his closed lids, he was met with two very worried bright blue orbs. The room began to spin then everything went to darkness.

Chapter 8

Two uniformed EMTs exited with their equipment and an empty gurney. Hutch was on the telephone holding the base with one hand and the handset to his ear. "They just left; Judith are you certain he's going to be alright?" Stopping in his tracks, the concerned blond looked into his bedroom where his partner lay on the bed.

On the other end of the line was Doctor Kaufman, she rubbed her neck. "Ken, from what you've told me and what I witnessed, David is wiped out. I know this isn't the best suited medical terminology." Empathy trailed through her words. "If the EMT's checked all his vitals, and there is no temperature…he just needs rest."

Hutch sat on the arm of the couch. "Thanks, Judith." Defeat encompassed his words.

Judith took a deep breath. "When he asked me for my lipstick, I thought he was crazy…then I saw it and how it comforted you. Ken, if it meant climbing Mount Everest, he would have done it. Partners, friends…no obstacle would have stopped him. He almost lost his world." She smiled. "Take care of yourself, call me tomorrow."

A hitch in his voice, Hutch formed a faint smile. "Yeah, I'll keep you posted." He placed the telephone base onto the side table and put the handset on it. A tear dripped down his face. Raising his arm, he wiped the wetness and turned the lights off in the apartment, then made his way to the bedroom.

As he approached the bed, the moon light shone through the window. Starsky was on his side with his back to the entrance. The adidas shoes were on the floor near the bed. Hutch pulled a blanket from the closet and unraveled it, and covered his partner.

The tall frame slowly melted into the arm chair a few feet from the bed, and he laid his head back. His breath caught from the lump in his throat. The floodgate of feelings, worry and admiration for the man he called a partner overwhelmed him. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, thanks, Buddy." The whispered words escaped his lips.

Starsky was awake and sensed his partner in the room. His eyes sparkled with liquid emotion as he processed what his friend had just said. "You're welcome. You okay, Hutch?" Conspicuously, he wiped his face. "I, ah…I guess my glass half full theory didn't work so well this time. Sorry for worryin'ya." The bed moved and he felt his partner's presence.

Hutch sat on the bed near his friend's legs and leaned forward with his elbows propped onto his knees. "I'm fine, Starsk. Don't ever change, half full or half empty, you are who you are. Don't apologize, you saved my life along with a lot of people." Silence hung between them. Turning his head slightly, Hutch asked. "What's going on, Starsk?"

Staring at the wall at nothing in particular, the brunet pressed his lips together tightly. "If I stay awake…I stop the nightmares." A stream of wetness ran from the inner corner of his eye and over his nose onto the blanket. "After Pop died, I couldn't sleep, eat…all I wanted to do is…huh, doesn't matter. I'm not a kid." His voice faltered to a whisper.

Hutch bowed his head and cupped his face and took in a deep breath and dropped his hands. He clasped them in front of him. "It's always tougher on the ones left behind." A brief smile formed. "Not just in death. Our worlds collided, you…me, we are two halves of a whole. When one is down the other fights, forges on for the both of us. The battle is real in the moment, but sometimes it's the aftermath. When it all comes to a screeching halt. It leaves you to think of what almost happened? I call it residual. It hits you like a stick of dynamite. The on switch is stuck. It won't budge." Understanding coated each word.

Starsky formed a partial grin. "Maybe we should replace that broken switch." A faint chuckled left his lips. "Ma called ya didn't she?"

Hutch sat up and patted his partner's thigh lightly. "I've been sworn to secrecy." He raised his eyebrows. "I'm kind of fond of that broken light-switch, I'd like to keep it. A few minor adjustments, it will be good as new."

Starsky closed his eyes and took a long deep breath. "Yeah, it goes both ways, Pal." He smiled widely. "Hey, would ya get a mop and a bucket so I can clean up this soapy scene!"

Hutch stood abruptly and pointed the long Hutchinson finger. "Oh, no you don't! The only thing you are going to do, Starsky, is sleep." His voice was higher than usual, but the partial smile on his face filled in the craving for light-hearted banter.

Starsky turned to make the long overdue eye contact and grinned widely. "Good night, Hutch. Get your rest, Boy." He rolled off the bed with the blanket draped over his shoulder. In passing, he softly patted his partner's stomach playfully and headed to the couch.

Chapter 9

Hutch put the finishing touches on combing his hair. Steam rolled from the shower area of the locker room. Starsky strolled in with a towel draping his waist. His appearance was much improved. A lopsided grin formed. "The end to a long, satisfying day, Partner."

Hutch finished clasping the last button on his shirt as he glanced over. "It's always a good day when you get the bad guy, Starsk." He smiled widely. "I feel like celebrating! What do you say?"

Starsky stood near his locker briskly running his fingers through his hair. "What are we celebrating?" He gazed inquisitively at his partner.

Shrugging and tugging at his shirt, Hutch raised his eyebrows. "A long life, Partner…a long life." He sat on the bench between them. "Oh, and your new job." He bent over and pulled his socks on.

Starsky stopped short of opening his locker and turned curiously. "My new job?"

Pulling the other sock on, and slipping his shoes on, Hutch stood to make eye contact. "Starsky, you are a man of many talents." The smile faded like a slide projection in slow motion as he looked at his extremely confused partner and friend.

Starsky reached and opened the metal locker door. His eyes widened as he reached in and pulled out a black and white maid uniform. The skirt was short, very short. "What is this?" Annoyance etched every fraction of his facial features. His eyes scanned the inside of the locker. "Where are my clothes?"

Several officers came from behind their cubbyholes. They all were smiling as one young officer approached and handed Starsky a business card. "Detective Clean, dust is a crime."

Starsky's body tensed as he dropped the petite garment onto the floor. He whisked the business card from young Handley's grip and crumpled it. Cocking his head slightly a partial smile formed and disappeared very quickly. "Where are my clothes?" The tone had grown more sinister and held a vibrating growl.

The echoing room cleared very quickly of its occupants as Starsky stepped forward. Hutch immediately stopped laughing as he stepped back. "It was just a joke, B…buddy." The Hutchinson finger made an appearance. The tall blond's eyes were wide as he tilted his head slightly. "Ah…ah, temper…temper." There was nowhere for him to go, his back was pressed against his locker. A nervous smile formed.

Eyes wide, jaw rigid and nostrils flared, Starsky crossed his arms over his chest. "Where…are my clothes, Hutch?" The question was asked in a very soft, yet threatening tone." Hutch watched as indigo blue eyes focused on him. The rapid color change in those once vibrant pools and protruding veins on the side of the neck area from the dark-haired man were clear signs, he wasn't amused.

Hutch's finger retracted slowly. His arm came down to his side. A playful chuckle escaped as he reached out and tapped his partner's muscle inflamed forearm. "I…I'll get them for you." Without warning he lunged to get around his partner toward the exit.

Starsky went after him and stubbed his toe. He stopped and jumped up and down in pain. As he limped and tried to continue the chase, he lost the towel, and screamed his friend's name. "H-U-T-C-H!"

The End.

Author's note: I had to imagine the aftermath of what transpired after Hutch's near-death experience. Our loved ones may hang in the balance of near death, but as the person on the sideline we also linger, overcompensate, do whatever it takes. When things calm down, that's when it hits you the hardest, your world begins to spiral and sometimes you are hit with the cold hard truth. Your body and mind dances the tango of balance.

Note: This story is Version 1. I have an alternate version for those who enjoy hurt/comfort and longer story. To be posted in the near future.