Starsky Vs Hutch - A Rewrite

by ES Paddy

Starsky Vs. Hutch isn't one of my favorite episodes, so to speak. I just couldn't really buy it. So, I wrote a new story with same title. It's a different story, so you can view it as just another story, if you liked the real one. It was written in script form first, in order to get the length right, and rewritten in narrative form for posting here.

Starsky Vs. Hutch, v. 2

Narrative Format

On the dot at six in the morning, Starsky knocked at Hutch's door, and, not getting an answer, let himself in. "Hutch?" he called cheerfully. "Where are you?"

From his bedroom, Hutch groaned and rolled over, covering his head with the pillow. Starsky went to the open bedroom door, and grinned. "Hutch?" he called again. "Come on, Beautiful, it's six in the morning. We're burning daylight."

"Go without me, huh?" Hutch said from the depths of the pillow.

"Get up or I'll sit on your head," Starsky informed him. Not seeing any indication that Hutch had plans to obey, Starsky sneaked over to the other side of the bed, took the pillow, and whomped Hutch on the back with it.

"Hey! What's wrong with you?" objected Hutch, throwing off the pillow with an honest frown.

"Come on, we have an appointment," Starsky said, plopping himself crisscross on the bed. "You said you'd go running with me for the next couple of mornings."

"I know I did," Hutch said, letting his eyes shut. Then he opened them again, with purpose, and found the clock. He sighed. "Look, Starsk, I was up all night. I just got to sleep a little bit ago. Will you go on without me?"

"What were you doing all night?"

"Mostly throwing up," Hutch said, shutting his eyes again.

"What?"

"You heard me," Hutch said. "Will you get out of here?"

"You contagious?" Starsky asked suspiciously.

"No, ate something bad. I just want to get some sleep, that's all."

"Oh, okay. Sure," Starsky said, getting off the bed. "I'll just let myself out."

He left the bedroom door open, and was almost gone before Hutch managed to lift his head. "Hey!" Hutch called.

Starsky came back and stuck his head in the door. "Yeah?"

"You alright?" Hutch asked.

Starsky grinned half-heartedly. "Compared to you, yeah," he said. He shrugged. "She's just a girl. Girls dump guys every day. Hey, don't worry about calling in. I'll take care of it for you."

Hutch grinned. "Thanks, partner," he said.

Starsky made a move to go again. "Starsk, if I'm feeling better I might make it in this afternoon, alright?" Starsky nodded and winked, and left Hutch alone.

Hutch sighed, and lay back down, rolling his eyes. "I'm going to hell," he said to no one in particular.

Starsky was determined to have a good day at work, so he came in whistling, with a newspaper to read stuck under his arm. Before he did anything else, though, he had to tell the Captain about Hutch; he tossed the newspaper on his desk and went to Dobey's door, not even detouring for coffee. He knocked.

"What is it?" came the gruff reply. Starsky opened the door.

"Morning, Captain," he said, grinning cheerfully.

"Yes, it is," said the Captain. "What else?"

"Hutch is out today," Starsky said.

"Since when?"

"Since he was sick all night last night. Said he might be in later though."

"All right," said Dobey, business-like. "See what you can do with this one on your own, then." He held out a folder, which Starsky came over and took from him. As Starsky opened and read it, Dobey kept talking. "You know that the twelfth precinct has had a recent spike in gang activity. Last month or two?"

"Yeah?" Starsky didn't look up from the folder.

"Well, it looks like it finally spilled over into our territory. Couple of patrolmen found a body this morning while they were investigating the report of another one. Go check it out."

"'kay," Starsky said, nose still in the folder, and he wandered out of the room.

It seemed as if the uniform policemen had the crime scene pretty much under control by the time Starsky got there. He took a quick survey of the scene when he stepped out of the car, finding without trouble the uniform that seemed to be taking the lead on the case so far, and he approached him.

"Geary?" Starsky said by way of greeting. "What a rotten start to an otherwise terrible day. Got anything for me?"

The uniform shrugged. "White male, about 16, stabbed to death. No ID."

"Ah," Starsky grimaced. "Just a kid. Almost the same as the other one. Just one difference."

"What's that?" asked the uniform.

"Different jacket... different gang. You find any witnesses?"

"So far, just the lady that found the body." He pointed to a woman across the parking lot, talking to another officer. "She's over there."

Starsky nodded, walked over, and waited while she finished speaking to the other officer.

"Excuse me," he said. "I'm Detective Starsky with the ninth precinct. Can I ask you a few questions?"

"I've already said all I can," the woman said, "to him." She pointed at the other policeman.

"You mind telling me again?" Starsky asked with a friendly grin.

The woman was annoyed. "Well," she said, rolling her eyes and sighing, "I found the body this morning when I went to put out my trash."

"Did you see anything?"

"Yeah. The body," she said.

"Anything else?" Starsky was determined to maintain politeness.

"No," the woman said, almost as if she was daring him to make something of it.

"Hear anything?" Starsky suggested. "Maybe last night?"

"You kidding?" the woman asked. "You hear all the noise around here?"

Starsky paused a moment to listen, and realized that there was a constant dull roar of traffic and other noise, even past the noise being made by his colleagues and the sirens.

"It's always noisy like this," the woman said. "And there are always these gangs of kids out and around, doing who knows what and getting into whatever trouble they do. Don't pay attention any more. Maybe I heard some fighting last night, maybe I didn't. Don't know."

It wasn't like Starsky had actually expected to get something helpful. He'd been hoping, of course...

"All right," he said reassuringly. "Think of anything more, you give me a call, huh?"

He handed her his card, and she took it like it was a piece of trash. "Um-hm," she grunted sarcastically.

Starsky turned away and caught the eye of the other policeman, and he shrugged his eyebrows. Then he sighed, and looked around the area. He turned back to the uniform. "Why don't you poke around, ask a few neighbors about it, see if you can find anyone who can tell you anything, okay?"

The officer wasn't overjoyed. "Alright, Detective," he said, "but I think it's just going to be more of the same."

"There's gotta be someone here who still cares," Starsky said.

"I wouldn't lay odds on that," the uniform replied, on his way to get started.

"Let me know if anything turns up," Starsky said to his back.

Hutch dozed off after Starsky left. He didn't wake up until Shirley came back with the soda he'd asked for and set it down on the nightstand with a clunk.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked, keeping her distance.

"A little bit," Hutch said, reaching for a can.

"Has Dave been and gone?" Shirley asked.

"Um hm," Hutch said. "Why? I thought you said it didn't matter whether he saw you here or not."

"Look, you were the one that wanted me to leave," she said.

Hutch sighed. "Yeah," he said, opening and taking a drink from the can. "Oh, that does feel better."

"Glad I stayed?" Shirley asked, not moving any closer.

"Well, yeah, of course," Hutch said. "It's just that... the timing isn't the greatest. He still feels pretty badly about you calling it off with him."

"What difference does that make?"

"You were my best friend's girlfriend," Hutch said. "Just days ago."

"I'm not anyone's property just because I happen to have dated them," Shirley said, getting a hint of a ferocious look about her. "I called it off because I didn't want to be with him anymore. He doesn't have a say about who else I can see. True?"

"All true," Hutch said. "So why do I feel like such a heel?"

"I have no idea," Shirley said.

Hutch sighed again. "Well, my stomach feels better, at least. I think I'm going to eat something and go in to work." He started to climb out of bed.

"I'm going to take a shower," Shirley said. "You rushed me out of here so quickly earlier that I didn't get a chance, and I have that interview. I have to be perfect for it."

"Be my guest," Hutch said.

Shirley left the room, and Hutch managed to stand up and start to get dressed. He heard her shut the bathroom door behind her, and then he heard a door open. Hearing footsteps behind him, he started to speak.

"What do you -" he turned and looked at the doorway. "Starsky!" he exclaimed. "What the **** are you doing here?"

Starsky smirked, and dangled a six-pack of club soda off two fingers in front of him. "Brought you some club soda, dummy. It makes you feel better when you're sick. Right?"

Hutch grinned weakly.

As Starsky set the soda on the dresser near the door, they both heard the shower start. Starsky was amused. "Why, you devil," he teased. "You weren't alone last night, were you?"

"No," Hutch admitted, with his eyebrows raised. "Terrible night to have company – I really did throw up half the night."

"But she's still here. You didn't scare her away – she must be all right. Who is she?"

The shower went off again.

"Oh, just a girl," Hutch said lightly, trying to remember how to put on his shirt, while hoping fervently that she was just fiddling with the water temperature. "Starsk, why don't you..."

"Do I get to meet 'Just a Girl'?" Starsky interrupted him.

"Not today, Starsk..." Hutch began, but Shirley came around the corner, wrapped in a bath towel, and interrupted him.

"Hutch, where do you keep the..." She saw Starsky, and trailed off.

Hutch put his hands over his eyes, waiting for Starsky's reaction. Not hearing one, he peeked through his fingers.

Starsky was standing still and quiet, but appeared to be growing more and more livid with each passing moment. Finally he turned to Hutch, his jaw clenched and eyes wide with fury. "Not today, huh?" he said. "Were you ever going to tell me? How long has this been going on?"

Knowing that it looked even worse than it actually was, Hutch wanted to explain. "Starsk," he began, but Starsky cut him off.

"Never mind. I don't want to know. See you later, Benedict Arnold." He ducked past Shirley and stormed out of the apartment.

Flashing a bewildered look at Shirley, Hutch finished pulling his shirt on and ran after Starsky, not stopping to put on shoes. "Starsky! Wait!" he called.

He caught up to Starsky on the sidewalk, just as Starsky was about to get inside his tomato. He grabbed Starsky's arm from behind, and Starsky turned and shoved him off, and made for the car again.

"Starsky... let me explain," Hutch said.

Starsky turned again. "I don't see that there's anything to explain," he said. "After all the time we've known each other... everything we've been through together... I can't believe you're the kind of guy that would do this to a friend." He made a move to get in the car again.

"I'm not," Hutch said quickly. "You know me better than that. I didn't plan it. It just... happened."

"Sure," Starsky said, coming towards him again. "I suppose she came over just to talk."

"That's what she told me at first," Hutch said innocently.

That was adding insult to injury. "You must think I'll believe anything!" Starsky almost screeched, raising his voice for the first time. "Dumb old Starsky – he'll never figure it out. I'll just tell him it was an accident, and he's so stupid he'll believe it." He turned away again, both furious and deeply offended.

Hutch had known, when he woke up that morning, that Starsky was going to take it pretty hard, and he had wondered what he'd been thinking to let it happen at all. But he hadn't expected him to feel quite this way on being told the truth. And, Hutch realized, from Starsky's (mistaken) perspective, the whole thing was pretty **** terrible. He tried again, attempting to be gentle and apologetic. "Starsk..." He took Starsky by the arm, ready for him to try to pull away again.

Starsky was not about to be held back. When Hutch didn't immediately let go, he punched him once in the stomach and once in the face, hitting hard both times, and Hutch, not prepared for it, let go, reeled back, and whacked his head on the corner of the apartment's wall. He slumped to the ground, out cold.

Starsky brushed his hands off and went back to the car. He was almost angry enough to simply get in and drive away – but not quite. He hadn't meant to knock the jerk out, only to keep him away. In fact, he'd rather have been able to punch and yell at him a little more. He stopped before he opened the car door, rolled his eyes, and came trotting back towards Hutch, only be interrupted by the radio in his car. He stopped again and went back to the car, diving in the passenger-side window for the handpiece.

"Zebra Three, Zebra Three," it was calling plaintively. "Come in."

"This is Zebra Three; what is it?" he said shortly.

"Patch through from Captain Dobey," the radio said.

Without further delay Dobey's voice came over the radio. "Starsky?"

"Captain?"

"There's been another incident downtown," Dobey said. "This time there's a suspect. They've got him in custody. I want you in here right away."

"I can't come just now, Captain," Starsky began to explain. "I just... Hutch just hit his head."

"What are you, his nurse?" Dobey demanded. "Get in here."

Starsky sighed, not sure how that was going to work. "All right," he said, figuring he'd have to haul Hutch up the stairs over his shoulder. He was not looking forward to it.

As he was standing over Hutch, considering how to best move him, Shirley came down the stairs, dressed in her business suit. She looked defiantly at Starsky, and then noticed Hutch on the ground.

"What happened?" she exclaimed.

Starsky caught her by the arm. "Now, look here," he said. "I have to go – police business. I want you to stay with him until he comes around and you can tell he's okay. If it takes more than a couple of minutes, get an ambulance. Understand?"

Shirley was annoyed. "Dave, I..."

Swallowing hard, Starsky interrupted her. "You love him?" he asked with difficulty. "Take care of him." He was caught, in between feeling betrayed and insulted, and being worried for Hutch, and he couldn't hang around anymore; he ran for the car, jumped in, and drove away before Shirley had a chance to respond.

Shirley stood there for a moment with her mouth open. "But... but I have..." she said to no one.

The interview with the punk in custody didn't feel like it was going very much better than anything else had that day. The kid was trying to play it like it didn't matter, like it was a joke or a prank or something, and if he was going to continue that, there was nothing anyone, Starsky included, could do to keep it from affecting the whole rest of his life. This sort of thing was always so frustrating. Starsky was doing his best to try to scare the kid.

"Now, you look here, pal," he said shortly. "We've got you on this one. We have an eye-witness, that is willing to swear in court that they saw you kill that other boy. And it's only a matter of time before we figure out how to pin the other two on you too."

"I didn't kill any other two," said the teenager.

"But you did kill this one," Starsky said, "this..." He opened the file to look at the victim's name.

"Man, what a joke," sneered the teenager, shaking his head. "You don't even know the guy's name. Why do you even care?"

Starsky let a little bit of angry show. "Look, you're only 17. If you play your cards right, you might be able to get away without this ruining the whole rest of your life."

"Aw, man, how sweet. The tough old cop cares about an innocent little kid. You're gonna make me cry, man."

Starsky shook his head, and got up and left the room.

Outside in the hall, Starsky stopped, and sighed... and then he saw Hutch coming down the hall towards him. He turned to the candy machine, pretending that he was thinking about selecting a snack. Hutch came up and stood by awkwardly.

"You made it in finally," Starsky said after a moment, without looking up.

"No thanks to you," Hutch said.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Starsky demanded, looking up with narrowed eyes.

"Well, I came in as soon as I came around. Lying on the sidewalk. All alone. I could have been mugged, or killed, for all you knew."

"Alone?" Starsky asked, feeling a little better – Shirley maybe didn't like Hutch so much better than him after all, if she left him there like that.

"Yes, alone," Hutch said sharply.

"I didn't leave you alone," Starsky said, looking back at the candy machine, and making a choice.

"What were you doing – lurking in the shadows?" Hutch said sarcastically.

"Yeah, I have nothing better to do," Starsky said, sarcastic in turn. "Shirley was there. I told her not to leave you."

"Apparently she isn't listening to you any more."

"And you're no great attraction anymore, either," Starsky said sharply, eating the candy.

"She had a big interview to get to, remember?"

They glared at each other for a few moments, until Dobey approached.

"There you are, Hutch. Feeling better?" he asked.

"Yeah," Hutch said crossly, still glaring at Starsky.

"Well, don't blame it on me," Dobey said. "Starsky, how are you doing with the suspect?"

"He won't admit to anything," Starsky said, still glaring at Hutch, "but we've got him, and he knows it." He stuffed the empty candy wrapper into one of Hutch's shirt pockets. "It's only a matter of time."

"I was just going to go in there and take care of it," Hutch said, taking the wrapper out of his pocket and very firmly putting it back in Starsky's hand.

"Let him cool his heels for a while," Dobey said. "Hutch, are you up to speed on what's been happening?"

"I was just about to have a look at the file, Captain," Hutch said, reaching for the file that Starsky held out of his reach.

"You do that," said Dobey, motioning to Starsky to give it to him. "I want a plan from you two about how to keep these gang killings out of our territory. You have an hour. Be in my office by then." He turned and walked away.

"Suck-up," Starsky said under his breath, letting Hutch take the file.

"You're just jealous," Hutch said, opening the file.

"You want to fight or something? 'Cause I really don't mind laying you out again. Just say the word!"

"Starsky, settle down!" Hutch said critically. "Will you listen to me for a minute?"

"Give me one good reason," Starsky said.

"Because it didn't mean anything," Hutch said. "The way you tell it, I don't even matter enough to her to keep her with me when I'm passed out on the street!"

Starsky grudgingly accepted this – but he wasn't about to admit so. "We got work to do," he finally said, grumpily. He stalked away in the direction Dobey had gone, followed closely by Hutch, who, with his jaw set, started to take a look at the file as they walked.

Starsky went past the double doors that let to the squad room, and Hutch called after him. "Hey! Where are you going?" He waited, resting a hand on the door.

Starsky kept on going. "The cafeteria," he called back, still grumpily.

"I thought you said we had work to do," Hutch said, perhaps more snidely than he intended.

Starsky swept around, glaring. "Unlike some people," he said, his voice at its snippiest, "I've been at work all morning, and I'm hungry."

"Well, there goes the North American food supply," Hutch said, and shoved through the double doors, leaving Starsky to walk off with a dark look on his face.

Starsky was gone long enough for Hutch to read the file thoroughly and to start going over it a second time. When Starsky came back, he had a tray piled with all his favorites, and Hutch winced to himself – but he decided not to make anything of it. He turned his attention back to the report. Starsky sat down across from him, as usual, but he was quiet, and Hutch finally looked up to find Starsky looking at him.

"Look," he said, picking up a hot dog. "We both had a rotten night and a hard morning to go with it. Let's start over, huh?"

Hutch nodded slowly. "Yeah, okay."

"So, what do you think?" Starsky motioned at the file Hutch was holding with the hot dog.

"Speaking of rotten," Hutch said. "You got ideas? What do you want to do?"

"Well, we need to catch them red-handed somehow," Starsky said, and took a big bite.

"Oh, that's genius," said Hutch sarcastically. Starsky glared at him. "Look," Hutch continued, "the bodies were all found in the same generally area. We should be able to just stake it out and catch them at it that way."

"No, I don't think we ought to look at all like cops when we go in there. Too dangerous. Besides, it means we'd have to wait until they kill again to catch them. I'd like to preempt that if possible."

"What are you suggesting... that we go undercover?"

"Sure, we get jobs where we're just around the neighborhood – like at a little store, or a newsstand or something. We're gonna see things that way, hear things. Hopefully we get a line on them before they kill again."

"That could take days, or weeks!" Hutch objected. "And you're worried about them killing again before we can get to them doing it my way?"

"I don't think it's smart to go in without a cover. Advertising the fact that we're cops in that part of town is not going to get us a warm reception, if you know what I mean. Gangs may hate other gangs, but they hate cops worse."

"Dobey wants it taken care of fast. We're talking about nightly murders here, Starsky. Fast is more important."

"You get us killed and the murders don't stop at all."

Dobey came out of his office. "Good, you're working on it. Let's hear what you've come up with so far."

Hutch answered quickly. "Captain, I think we should stake out the area where they've been dumping the bodies. Chances are we'll catch them at it before too long."

"And I don't want to wait until after they kill again to catch them at it," Starsky jumped in. "I want to go live in the area undercover for a while and get a line on them that way.
"That'll take too long," Hutch repeated. "They'll definitely kill someone again before we catch them that way... maybe a lot of someones."

"We don't know that," Starsky said. "At least we won't be counting on it."

"Either way sounds fine to me," Dobey broke in, "as long as you take the right precautions. So pick a way and do that. But agree on it first, and don't leave until you do. And I want you out on the street before the next shift change, you understand me?"

Dobey left them sizing each other up.

"So what do you want to do?" Hutch finally asked.

"I told you what I want to do," Starsky said.

"I'm not going to go for that, partner," Hutch said.

"Don't 'partner' me," Starsky said. "You know, there's one way to settle which way's best."

"What's that?" Hutch said, imagining polling his colleagues or something dumb like that.

"You do it your way, and I'll do it mine, and we'll see who ends up getting 'em."

Hutch frowned. "I don't think the Captain'll go for it; he said we have to agree on the plan."

"We would be agreeing," Starsky suggested. "We'd be agreeing to do it our separate ways."

"Is that what you want to do?" Hutch asked.

Starsky shrugged. "Beats sitting around here arguing about it," he said.

Hutch looked down. "Okay, then," he said finally.

"Okay," said Starsky boldly. He turned and headed for the doors, and Hutch followed him. Hutch wasn't sure about their plan, but, as Starsky had pointed out, it was far better than arguing in circles until the next shift change, and it was definitely preferable to both of them wasting days or weeks with some complicated undercover op that wouldn't necessarily do any good at all.

Out in the hall, they were hailed by Captain Dobey, who had stopped to talk to an administrator that they both vaguely recognized.

"Starsky! Hutchinson! Come back here!" he called.

They looked at each other, and then went and stood obediently near him.

"I thought I told you to stay in that room until you'd come to an agreement about how to proceed," he said.

"We did, Captain," Starsky said.

"That's right; we have a plan," Hutch said.

"Oh!" Dobey exclaimed. He turned to the other person standing there. "That's why these are my best men, Johnson. They work together like clockwork. I can give them anything and they take care of it." He turned back to the two of them, who were wearing comparable embarrassed grins. "Good job, fellas. You can arrange whatever you need, and fill me in later, when I get back from this meeting." He turned away and said something to the other man about something else, effectively dismissing them.

Outside, about to go their separate ways to their respective cars, they paused awkwardly. They both were confident that Dobey would squash this 'plan' if he had the slightest inkling of any of the details, and they knew that they shared this knowledge, without talking about it. Starsky was starting to worry about it. He'd thought that Hutch would know better than to go alone undercover into that area, to deal on purpose with such a rough group. But they really had had very little interaction with gangs in their years on the force – just a mistake of the territory they'd been assigned. He supposed it came of Hutch's growing up in the suburbs. If he'd grown up on Starsky's street he'd know better, certainly.

"All right, then," Hutch said finally.

"All right, Starsky replied, and they both started to go to their cars. But he couldn't actually let Hutch go off like this. "Hey," he called.

Hutch was annoyed. "What is it now?"

"Be careful, huh?"

"Don't worry about me," Hutch said. "The only thing you have to worry about is that I'm going to write the report about how I catch these guys, and you won't even be mentioned in it."

"Oh, sure," Starsky agreed sarcastically.

"Unless, of course, you've changed your mind and want to do it my way."

"No, I'd rather work smart, thank you."

They both turned back to their cars. Starsky's conscience hit him hard. With two of them out there on stakeout, it wouldn't be nearly so dangerous. It wasn't the best way to do it, but with both of them there, it would probably turn out okay. He turned and opened his mouth to call Hutch back, but Hutch was already gone.

Hutch had some time to kill, so he went to the Pits. It was a pretty busy afternoon, and he didn't even see Huggy until he was almost ready to go. He was sitting at the bar, finishing a hamburger, when Huggy appeared.

"Hutch, how are you?" Huggy asked. "I haven't been ignoring you; just had to take care of something in the back. How goes it?"

"I'm on my way out," Hutch said.

"Where's your other half?"

"Trying to get himself a job, I believe," Hutch said smugly, standing up.

"Say it ain't so," Huggy said. "Did the department show him the door?"

"No, nothing like that," said Hutch. "He's going undercover for awhile, that's all."

"And you're not?"

Hutch shrugged. "The way he wanted it," he said. "See you around, Hug. Got somewhere to be myself, right about now."

Starsky, meanwhile, had located an optimum little shop in what he gauged to be a nearly perfect location, and popped inside. He presented himself to the proprietor, a short and frumpy, gray-haired and balding man.

"Hi!" Starsky said brightly. "I saw your 'help wanted' sign in the window."

The man behind the counter raised his eyes from the newspaper he was reading, and looked Starsky up and down.

"You can read," he said finally.

"Yes, sir," Starsky said, grinning.

"How's your math?"

"Oh, I don't know. Average, I guess."

"What was your last job?"

"Uh, I worked with this guy, Huggy Bear. He has a bar. 'S called 'The Pits.'"

"Fired?"

"Let go. Said I wasn't pretty enough; gave the job to a blond." Starsky made a mental note to call Huggy later.

"Huh," said the shopkeeper. He shuffled out from behind the counter and into the back room through a nearby door, and then back in a couple of seconds, holding a broom. "Sweep the floor, straighten the shelves. Then we'll see."

Starsky was still sweeping, not under particularly careful observation, when a woman carrying a baby came in. She came right up to him, and waited.

He stopped sweeping. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"Um..." she motioned to the shelf he was blocking.

"Oh!" he stepped gracefully out of the way. "Excuse me."

She smiled. "Thank you."

"Can I help you with anything?" he asked, noting that she was kind of pretty.
"Sure, now that you mention it," she said, pulling two boxes of mac and cheese off the shelf. "Take that to the counter for me? One handed, you know."

"Sure," Starsky said, taking the boxes. "You live around here?"

The woman sighed. "For seven years now. Since right after my little boy was born."

Starsky looked sideways at her – the baby in her arms was clearly younger than two. The woman noticed, and grinned. "Not this one. This is my other son. Freddy's around here somewhere."

"Oh, okay, I was wondering," Starsky grinned too. "And, uh, your husband? Is he here too?"

"No, I'm not married," the woman said, turning back to the shelves. While Starsky was taking her mac and cheese up to the counter, a small boy came running in and went right to the woman.

"Mom! Mom!" he cried. "Marco says I can hang out with the guys tonight! They're just going to be around his place. Can I? Can I please?"

"I don't like those boys you hang around with, Freddy," the woman said. "They look so rough."

Starsky's ears perked up as Freddy replied.

"They like me, Mom. They think I'm cool. I'm the littlest guy they let hang around with them."

Freddy's mother ruffled his hair with her free hand. "You are cool," she said. "But I don't want you spending time with them. Here, will you hold Joey for me?"

She handed the baby to his older brother and continued shopping.

"Hi, Joey," Freddy said, and kissed the baby on the side of his head.

Starsky wandered back over casually. "I'm new in this part of town, myself," he said.

"Are you? the woman asked. They she looked up. "Why? I mean, why here? People move out of here; they don't move in."

Starsky shrugged. "Times are rough," he said.

"Oh," the woman said. "Well, you'll fit right in."

"I'm, well, I'm a little nervous about being an all-night attendant," Starsky admitted. "I hear the gangs around here can be pretty rough."

The woman glanced at her older son meaningfully, and then turned back to Starsky. "They can be," she said. "You have to watch where you go after dark. But they probably won't bother you here."

"That's good to know," Starsky grinned gratefully.

She walked up to the counter and put the rest of her things on it, then turned to Starsky expectantly. "Would you mind ringing me up?" she asked, when he didn't move.

"Not at all," Starsky replied. "What's your number?"

"I mean the groceries," she replied with funny look.

"Oh!" Starsky exclaimed. "Sorry, I... new to this business."

He went around the counter, rang up the woman's purchases slowly but correctly, and put the things in a paper bag. "There," he said, accomplishment in his voice. "It was nice to meet you, Ms..." he trailed off expectantly.

"Kathy," said the woman.

"Kathy," Starsky repeated. "I'm Dave. Be seeing you around?"

"I'm sure," Kathy replied. "Come on, Freddy."

The night was long and uneventful. Starsky went back to the department at five forty-five in the morning, sat down to start working on a report, and promptly fell asleep. Hutch came in at six thirty, also looking a little ragged, and, on seeing Starsky, smirked. But he got two cups of coffee from the coffeemaker and set them on his desk, then picked up a handy file folder and whacked Starsky on the back of the head with it.

"Morning, Sunshine," he said, sitting at his desk.

"Where?" Starsky groused. "Turn it off."

"Here," Hutch said, shoving one of the cups across the desk, "drink this, Sleepyhead." He waited until Starsky had lifted the cup and started to take a sip. "So, how'd it go?"

"I got a job, perfect place, a shop right on a street corner near one of the places a body was left. All night gig. Didn't see anything yet. But I met this woman."

"Oh!" Hutch laughed. "Oh, that's... see, I thought you meant something else when you said you were going undercover. Now I understand."

"Understand what?"

"Why you didn't want me along."

Starsky gave him a withering look. "For your information," he said shortly, "the woman I met has a son, whom I have reason to believe may know one or more of the gangs. He's little, but I think he's a hanger-on of some of the older boys." Hutch shrugged dismissively. "You got anything better?" Starsky asked.

Hutch shrugged his eyebrows. "Zero," he said. "I didn't see anything. But there are no reports of anything anywhere. It sounds like they took the night off."

Starsky snapped his fingers. "See, that's what this kid said! He said they were going to be at someone's house all night... what was the name... I don't remember. I think it'll be worth it to get to know that kid."

"Maybe," Hutch said noncommittally.

"You coming with me?" Starsky asked hopefully.

"It sounds like you can handle all the action going on there, Starsk."

Noisily, Dobey entered the squad room for the morning, and he came right over. "How's that case coming?" he asked without preamble.

"We're just in from a night on the street, Captain," Hutch said. "Going home to get some shut-eye."

"Anything happen?"

"Not too much," Starsky said, standing up. "But that might count as a good thing – no bodies turned up, either."

Dobey nodded. "Well, keep at it," he said. Hutch saluted with two fingers, and Starsky started to say something, but he yawned instead, and Dobey went into his office and shut the door.

Starsky was back at work promptly at four-thirty in the afternoon. He swept up and straightened the shelves first thing, and then found himself with nothing really to do, so he stood behind the counter and read a newspaper. His first customer was Freddy.

"Oh! Hi, Freddy," he said, as the boy entered.

Freddy grinned. "Hi," he said. He picked one thing off a shelf and brought it up to the counter. "My mom needs it for dinner," he said.

Starsky rang it up, a little more quickly than he had the day before. "Your mom seems like a pretty special lady."

Freddy shrugged. "She's alright, I guess. She doesn't like my friends."

"Who are your friends?" Starsky asked, putting Freddy's purchase in a bag and shoving it across the counter into Freddy's waiting hands.

"They're just some guys. They hang around together, do stuff. I guess sometimes they get into trouble. But I'm not allowed to be around when they rumble anyway."

"Says who?" Starsky asked.

"Says them. They're 'protecting' me 'cause I'm kinda young."

Starsky handed him the receipt. "Here ya go," he said.

Freddy took it. "But I don't mind. I guess I wouldn't want Joey around if I was going to rumble. See you later, Dave," he said, on his way out.

"Hey, Freddy?" Starsky asked.

"Yeah?" Freddy stopped and turned around.

"These, uh, guys you're hanging with – they ever get very close to home here?"

"Whaddya mean?"

"Well, second day on the job – would hate to have anything go wrong here."

"Oh," Freddy grinned. "Not usually very close. But, if I hear of anything they're gonna do and it's gonna be close around here, I'll let you know, or something."

"You're tops," Starsky said. "Thanks!"

"Sure," Freddy said, and left.

"So, there, Officer Hutchinson," Starsky said under his breath.

About an hour later Starsky noticed Freddy run past the shop on the sidewalk. He hurried to the door and stuck his head out. "Hey, Fred!" he called.

Freddy stopped and turned. "Yeah, what is it?"

"You off somewhere in a hurry?"

"Kinda, yeah. Why?

"Okay, never mind," Starsky said thoughtfully, and waved him on. He watched to see which direction Freddy was going, and had half a mind to follow him. But the kid had promised to keep him posted on what his friends were doing, and what would he do anyway, once he saw where Freddy had gone? Knock on the door and try to talk to them? That would be asking for it.

Hutch found a likely spot to park, near three different places where bodies had been found, and took out a newspaper, observing quickly that there was a small group of teenagers gathered under a basketball hoop in the lot to his right. He settled down to pretend to read, checked in with the department, careful to keep the radio's handpiece out of sight behind the newspaper, and noted while he did that the teenagers left the basketball court and moved off down the street. He kept an eye on them until they went around a corner. A little boy ran past and went around the same corner just a few moments later.

Freddy ran up to the abandoned house and knocked on the door, careful to avoid stepping in the holes on the porch. Marco himself answered the door, and Freddy grinned. "Hey, Marco," he said.

Marco held the door open wide. "Hi, Fred," he said. "Come on in. We're not going out quite yet." When Freddy stepped through, Marco let the door bang shut.

The house was in its perpetual state – a dirty mess. It was a hangout, not a home, after all – a headquarters. It was comfortable.

Marco leaned a hand on Freddy's shoulder. "Fred, did you notice a car kitty corner from here – the brown one that didn't belong?"

"What about it?"

"Was there a guy sitting in it?"

"I think so. Want me to go have a look?"

"Marco!" one of the others called breathlessly, coming tromping down the staircase. "I saw him, Marco! Talking into some kind of thing!"

"I knew it!" Marco exclaimed. "I knew it! I can smell 'em!" He turned to the group at large, most of whom were lounging around the sitting room. "Hey!" he called, and waited until most of them were looking at him. "We got ourselves a little action tonight. There's a cop on our tail. We're going to take care of him – no cop is going to be spying on us and get away with it."

Someone spoke up with a question. "How are we going to keep him from calling more cops? Shouldn't we just sit tight and wait 'til he gets bored and goes away?"

"You kidding me?" Marco said. "No, I got a plan. Stacey and Gina, come here. I'll tell you what to do. And four of you guys."

Hutch had been sitting with the newspaper for over an hour when he noticed two girls walking on the sidewalk. He kept his eye on them, and when they caught his eye and giggled to each other, he nodded to them, smiling. They giggled to each other some more, and walked slowly down the street.

They walked past a gap in the fence, and suddenly they were grabbed, both of them, by what appeared to be a couple of guys, though Hutch didn't have a good view of them. The girls screamed for help, quickly, before they were muffled by their attackers. Hutch flew out of the car; if the girls were halfway helpful, he thought he could take on two guys, if they weren't expecting him.

The trouble was, they were expecting him, and there were four of them. He didn't last very long.

The four guys dragged the unconscious Hutch across the lot, and then the street, and then up the stairs to the abandoned house where the rest of the gang was waiting, watching from the windows. Someone opened the door for them, and they dumped Hutch unceremoniously in the entryway, and shut the door behind them.

"Where's Marco?" one of them wondered.

"He went to get everybody – he's calling a council. He doesn't want to kill the cop here – he says the warehouse on Madison."

"Can we wait until the cop comes around to move him?" said another. "I don't want to drag him all the way there."

One of the girls spoke up. "We could use the cop's car," she pointed out, to general approval.

"Are we sure the dude's actually a cop?" yet another asked.

The boy who'd asked about Marco bent down and searched through Hutch's clothes, pulling out his gun first, and then his wallet, and he flashed the badge so everyone could see it. "Alright, let's get moving," he said. "Fred, where are you?"

Freddy squeezed in between people to get to the center of the group. "I'm here," he said.

"Looks like it's time for you to clear out," he said. He took the badge off of the wallet, and stuffed the wallet in one of his own pockets. "Here; souvenir." He tossed Hutch's badge to Freddy.

Nobody was in the store shopping; everything had been straightened and swept, and Starsky finally had a chance to settle in behind the counter. He was not going to be sorry to be done with this gig; working as a shopkeeper was starting to be a little bit mindnumbing, in the day-to-day.

He had got several paragraphs into an article about one of the elephants in the zoo when Freddy ran into the store.

"Hey, Dave!" he said.

"Hey," Starsky replied, looking up from the paper. "You're back early."

"Yeah," said Freddy, "the guys got something goin' down tonight."

"Do they?" Starsky asked, eyeing Freddy carefully.

"Yeah," he said, "but it's okay. Not anywhere near here. Look what they gave me!" He gestured at Starsky with the badge.

"Where'd you get that? Hand that here for a minute," Starsky said, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Freddy did, and Starsky took it, not hardly needing to look at it to know exactly what it was. "Where'd you get this?" he asked, suddenly deadly serious.

Freddy was frightened by his sudden change in tone. "The guys," he said. "Like I told you. You don't have to worry about them tonight. They caught a cop following them around; they're gonna take care of him."

Starsky grabbed Freddy by the arm and then lunged for the phone. With one hand, he dialed a number furiously.

"This is Starsky," he said quickly the minute someone picked up. "I need backup RIGHT NOW. "I'm downtown, corner of Braddock and 14th. Make it FAST!"

"You're a cop!" Freddy gasped.

"Yeah, I'm a cop. Where do they have him?"

"The cop?" Freddy asked. Starsky started to react, and Freddy said hurridly, "No way, man, the guys are my friends."

"People are going to die, Freddy," Starsky warned.

"Only the bad guys," said Freddy.

"You get to decide who that is?" Starsky asked. "Come on, Freddy. Where'd they take the cop?"

"No! You let go of me."

"Freddy, that cop... he's my partner. Tell me where they took him, Freddy." Freddy shook his head 'no'. Starsky got down on his knees to talk right into his face. "Listen to me. Your little brother, Freddy. You love him, don't you?"

"Well, sure I do."

"You get annoyed at him sometimes, but you love him and you take care of him, right?" Freddy nodded. "That's the way it is with me and my partner. He's like my little brother. I love him like you love your little brother. Now, I promise that I will do everything I can to make sure your friends don't get hurt, but you have to tell me where they've taken him. Please. And, look, holding out on me isn't doing them any good either. They kill a cop and the whole city's coming down on them, then there ain't nobody gonna be able to help them at all." He looked intently at the 8-year-old that held Hutch's life in his youthful and unknowing hands.

But Freddy knew somehow that Starsky was being straight-up with him. He looked down at the ground. "It's an old building no one uses anymore," he said reluctantly. "Three blocks that way and five blocks that way," he motioned.

"Thank you," Starsky sighed, as a black-and-white pulled up curbside. He ruffled Freddy's hair gently. "I owe you one, kid."

He hurried outside, Freddy close behind him, and opened the car door to jump inside, when Freddy grabbed his arm.

"Dave! Can I come too?" Freddy asked.

"You got to be kidding," Starsky said, sitting down.

"I'm going anyway; they're my friends. Wouldn't you rather know exactly were I am? Keep me safe and all that?" Freddy smiled coyly.

Starsky slammed the car door, sighing. "Make it quick," he said, and Freddy eagerly obeyed. "But you gotta promise me, you stay in the car." He turned to the uniform driving the car. "Madison and Ninth," he said, and the car peeled away as Starsky picked up the radio.

"This is Zebra Three. I need all available units around here to meet me at Madison and Ninth." He clicked off the radio, and half-turned to Freddy. "You know, I bet you're the kind of kid that makes his mother stay up late crying 'cause she doesn't know where he is."

"Takes one to know one, I bet," Freddy said slyly.

"None of your business, kid," said Starsky.

Hutch came around during the drive to the warehouse, but the gang had taken the precaution of tying his hands. It took five of the gang's members to drag him out of the car and into the warehouse where Marco was holding a council of war, and they forced him down on his knees right in the middle of them all. One of them stepped forward and handed Hutch's gun to Marco.

"You're right; he's a cop," he said.

"I knew it," Marco said. He pointed the gun at Hutch. "Hey, cop," he addressed him. "You were spying on my family, huh? You know what they do to spies, right?"

"You're gonna shoot me, you shoot me," Hutch said. "You're not going to impress me with any speeches." Marco pulled back the firing pin. "But I'll tell you this, as a favor. Up 'til now it's only been other gangs – people from other gangs. You kill a cop, you'll have more cops all over you before you can blink twice. And then that's gonna be the end of your happy little family, pal."

Marco smirked. "Brave words, Mister Cop," he said. He released the firing pin. "I'm not going to shoot you." He paused. "I don't need guns. You cops think you can keep your hands clean if you use guns to do your dirty work. I don't live in some fantasy like that; I live in the real world. I don't mind the reality. I don't need a gun to kill you."

He watched a flicker of dread pass over Hutch's face and be pushed away, and he laughed quietly. Showman-like, he turned to the gathered group of kids. "Come on, boys," he said. "Guns down, if you've got them. Put 'em over along the wall, just to make sure no one cheats."

As everyone in the gang obeyed, Marco leaned down so that he could speak very quietly to his prisoner. "You're gonna die nice and slow," he grinned. "So you can think about how you were gonna wreck all our lives, and how we ain't gonna let you."

When all the kids had gathered around again, Marco stood up, and kicked Hutch in the stomach as hard as he could. "Alright!" he announced. "Who wants next turn?"

Starsky and the uniform he was riding with were met by three other black-and-white units just before they found Hutch's car parked sloppily outside of the warehouse, and everyone jumped out of their cars.

"They're around here somewhere close," he announced. "Go find them!"

He poked his head back in the black-and-white briefly. "You stay here," he said to Freddy. "I mean it. You could get hurt very badly."

The policemen fanned out a little, but Starsky went to the door nearest Hutch's car and pulled it open just a crack, and they heard the commotion. "Hey!" Starsky hissed to the other cops, pulling his gun. "Cover the other exits – now!"

Several of the uniforms ran around the building to obey; Starsky, leading two others, rushed in through the door, going for cover. Seeing what was happening, Starsky immediately fired a warning shot, and rushed towards the fight.

"Police! Hold it!" Starsky shouted, although the shot had stopped the action already. Most of the kids didn't hang around; they made for other exits, and were caught by the policemen waiting.

Marco didn't run; he didn't try to fight either.

"Get him!" Starsky yelled to his companions, pointing at Marco, as he was running to Hutch.

Hutch was bruised, bleeding, and limp, and one arm at least was very obviously badly broken. Hurriedly Starsky knelt beside Hutch, calling his name, and feeling sick.

He got no response, and swore, carefully slipping a hand under Hutch's neck so he could hold his head still while he felt for a pulse.

The uniform that had driven Starsky there came over and squatted next to him. "I think we got most of them," he reported. He looked at Hutch. "Is he alright?"

"I don't know," Starsky said without looking up. "Get on the radio and get an ambulance here, right away."

He waited there for what seemed a long time, holding Hutch's neck still, watching him, and waiting for whatever was going to happen, conscious of a terrible stomachache but not really much else. Hutch was bleeding from the nose and the mouth, and a bad cut on the side of his face, and bruises and lumps were forming all over. Finally he seemed to wince, and his eyes opened a little.

"Hey," Starsky said, dry-mouthed.

Hutch mouthed Starsky's name. He gathered energy and spoke, so softly that Starsky had to lean down close to hear.

"Starsk... about... about the girl, and..."

"No," Starsky interrupted him, shaking his head. "No, not now. Not now. It's not important. I'm here. I've got you. That's all that matters. Okay?" He tried to grin. "Hey, we got them. You were right about how to get them. You were right."

With difficulty, Hutch tried to look up at him, afraid. "Hurts so bad," he said, still barely audibly.

"I'm so sorry, Hutch," Starsky breathed.

"Starsk..." Hutch trailed off.

"I'm right here," Starsky told him. "Right here. You're gonna be okay."

Captain Dobey only found out about it the next morning, and he hurried over to the hospital, finding Starsky in the waiting room, staring into space.

"Starsky!" he called, coming over to him, startling him.

Starsky acknowledged Dobey with his eyebrows.

"What happened?" Dobey said. "I got in this morning, to a report on my desk, written by Cowley, in uniform, of all people, informing me that the ring-leader of the worst of the gangs is in custody, but Hutch is here!"

"Yeah, I put Cowley in charge," Starsky said, putting his head in hands and combing his fingers backwards through his hair, "I told Hutch I'd stay with him."

"How is he?" Dobey asked.

"Same," Starsky swallowed. "Every hour, the same. We got here just after nine-thrirty last night." He looked up at the clock. "Oh! It's nine-thirty now. ****. We've been here for twelve hours. He's still in surgery, and they still can't tell me whether he's gonna be okay or not."

"I read Cowley's report," said Dobey. "It said that, best they can tell, these punks sneaked up on Hutch, and grabbed him."

"That's how I figure it," Starsky nodded.

"I have one question for you," Dobey said. "Why aren't you in it, until the end? Where were you?"

Starsky looked at the Captain. "I wasn't there," he said.

"What'd you mean, you weren't there?"

"I was at the store, doing the undercover gig, like I wanted, and he staked them out like he wanted. I wasn't there."

"You did exactly what I told you NOT to do?" Dobey exclaimed. "So help me, Starsky, if Hutch..." he trailed off.

"If Hutch dies?" Starsky said breathlessly, blinking. "What are you gonna do? He's my best friend – and he's dying – and I put him there! How're you gonna make that worse? I'd like to see you try." He buried his head in his hands.

Dobey sighed and sat down a couple of chairs away. "We all make mistakes, Starsky," he said after a few long moments.

Starsky twitched a shoulder in reply.

Dobey got up slowly, and walked up to the nurse's station. "Excuse me," he asked the nurse, "I'd like to inquire after a patient."

"Hutchinson?" she asked.

"How do you know that?" Dobey was surprised.

"You were talking to him," the nurse motioned to Starsky. "He asks every hour, on the hour, since about 11 last night, the nurse from the last shift told me. Nothing's changed – the patient is still in surgery, still in critical condition... will you tell him that we will let him know as soon as there's a change?" Dobey nodded. "Are you his friend?" the nurse asked.

"Supervisor," Dobey suggested.

"You should tell him to go home and take care of himself," she said. "He hasn't moved, since I've been here at least, except to come up here to ask."

"He's a big boy," Dobey said drily. He took out a business card. "I'd appreciate a call when you know about Hutchinson," he said.

"I'll do my best," the nurse said, taking the card.

Starsky didn't see the nurse until she was standing next to him and saying his name; he was staring through the floor, not really thinking exactly, but just waiting. He was getting really good at just waiting.

"Mr. Starsky?" the nurse said a second time.

He looked up quickly.

"Your friend is out of surgery."

"And?" Starsky asked breathlessly.

She shrugged a little. "They moved him to the ICU," she said.

"Oh," Starsky said lightly.

"You can see him there," she said.

He stood up instantly. "Where?" he asked. "How do I get there?"

Hutch looked like a battleground in a war between bandages and tubes, and it wasn't clear which side had won. The only part of him that wasn't covered in one or the other was his forehead. Starsky had expected at least to be able to hold his hand, but both were bandaged. Hutch was on a respirator – at least his heart was working on its own. Starsky stood a moment to take it all in, and then he leaned over and touched his forehead to Hutch's. "I'm still here, partner," he whispered.

It was another couple of days before Hutch woke up, and then another several hours before the doctors got done doing whatever they had to do to him, while Starsky waited out in the waiting room again. But finally Hutch was moved back into an ordinary room, minus the respirator, was left alone, and Starsky could see him.

He opened the door and stood in the doorway a moment. "Hey," he finally said, grinning widely.

Hutch, flat on his back, moved his head the little bit he could. "Starsk?" he croaked.

"Who else?" said Starsky, coming into the room and standing where Hutch could see him without turning his head. "How are you?"

"You tell me," Hutch said. "Can hardly move and everything hurts. Y' give me a piece of ice? What happened?"

As he gave Hutch an ice cube to suck on, Starsky told him what had happened, as far as he knew. Hutch didn't say anything when he finished.

"You tired, Hutch? Do you want me to come back?"

"No!" Hutch said quickly, around the ice. "I mean, you don't have to go."

"'K," Starsky said quietly.

"Starsk..."

"Yeah?"

"I want to explain," Hutch said.

"No, not yet," Starsky said. "You listen to me first."

Hutch didn't like it, but he didn't feel as if he was in position to argue. He nodded.

Starsky came a little closer. "I had a lot of time to think about what happened," he said. "Fourteen hours, where they couldn't tell me if I was even going to get to talk to you again... another couple of days waiting for you to heal enough for them to bring you around... Hutch..." he shook his head. "Anyway, here's what I got figured out. When it comes down to it, it's really not any of my business who you decide to sleep with..." Hutch tried to interrupt him, but he shook his head. "But it's fundamentally my business what you do at work, and I blew it on both counts." He sighed. "And I'm really just so **** lucky that I got a chance to tell you so in person. I never should have let you go off alone on a stakeout like that, never mind suggesting it. Hutch, I almost got you killed," Starsky nearly whispered.

"Yeah, well, I went along with it, didn't I?" Hutch asked, almost glowing with relief that Starsky wasn't still angry.

"You were hurt really bad. And, we don't... they can't even tell me for sure that you're going to walk again, Hutch."

"Really?" Hutch frowned a little. "I can feel everything." He wiggled his feet, and cried out in pain. "Yeah," he gasped, "especially the ankle!"

"That's just a sprain," Starsky informed him. "It's not broken."

"Thank heaven for small mercies," Hutch said ruefully when the pain had subsided a little. He looked up at Starsky. "You going to listen to me now?"

Starsky nodded, and Hutch sighed. "Look, what I told you before about how it happened, it's the truth. She called and said she wanted to talk about you and her, and I believed her – I thought... I thought I was going to fix it for you." Hutch laughed sarcastically. "Well, she came over, and she didn't want to talk. And I knew the minute I thought about it how you'd feel... I just didn't think about it until later. I was an idiot. And then, you were standing there, you'd just brought me the soda, and I... what was I going to tell you, Starsk? There was no plan to sneak around behind your back or anything – there was no plan at all. I just – couldn't say it. That's all, I promise, Starsk."

"I know," Starsky said quietly.

"And I don't think you're stupid," Hutch added. "Stupid is the last... no, normal is the last thing I think you are, but stupid comes right after it. I count on you being able to figure things. I'd be dead several times over if you couldn't."

"I know," Starsky repeated, grinning.

Hutch half-laughed, and then sighed. "So, here we are," he said.

"Yeah, here we are," Starsky said, still smiling. "Me and thee. Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to stay a little while and make sure you're settled, but then I have to get back to the station. And you're going to get better. But word to the wise, Hutch: if Captain Dobey comes in here?"

"Hmm?" Hutch asked.

"Well, he knows about our arrangement," Starsky said, lifting his eyebrows. "And he wasn't exactly happy about it. I was able to sidestep a lecture myself, but, uh..."

"How'd you do that?"

"Gave it to myself for him," Starsky said. "But the conditions were right. If I were you I'd make sure it hurts when he's in here... real bad." He gave Hutch a knowing look, and a wink.

Hutch didn't particularly mind that he needed to be fed by nurses. There were some very pleasant nurses, and eating wasn't such a bother once he was capable of sitting up in bed for minutes at a time. He did mind the lousy food, though, and one day Starsky took pity on him and went out to get a hamburger to sneak in.

While he was gone, a nurse came in. She was a nice nurse, but not one of Hutch's favorites.

"Hi, there," she said cheerfully, carrying in a tray full of repulsive-looking stuff. "It's time for lunch!"

Hutch frowned. "Where's Starsky?" he asked.

"Is he that curly-headed guy that's always hanging around?" she asked.

"Curly-brained is more like it," Hutch said, grinning at his own joke.

"Ahem," came Starsky's voice from the doorway. Hutch turned stiffly towards him, as far as he could at least.

"Oh. There you are," he said.

"Yep."

"Lurking in the doorway."

"Yep."

"No one lurks in a doorway quite like you, Starsk," Hutch said.

"Hm," Starsky replied. He walked over to the nurse, who was still preparing to feed Hutch from the tray. "I can do that," he said.

"Sure?" the nurse looked up.

"Sure," Starsky gave her a friendly grin.

"Alright, then," she said, "I do have plenty of other things to do." She hurried out of the room.

"Bye, now," Hutch called after her, and then turned to Starsky, who was setting the tray aside. "Boy, am I glad to see you," he said.

"Curly brains and all?" Starsky asked, with a smug smile.

"I was just agreeing with her, Starsk," Hutch said.

"Sure you were," Starsky said, reaching into his coat for a brown paper bag, that already had grease spots showing through. "Let's see..." he opened it and pulled out a hamburger wrapped in foil, a stray french fry or two falling back into the bag.

"Oh, that looks so good," Hutch said.

"Grilled onions and bleu cheese, just the way you like," Starsky said. He sat on the edge of the bed and began to unwrap it.

"Starsk, you are an angel of mercy."

"Speaking of angels," Starsky said, opening the burger up and arranging the toppings, "how about that one nurse?"

"Which one?" Hutch murmured, eyes on the hamburger.

"Oh, haven't you seen her?" Starsky asked.

"Um..." Hutch began.

"What?"

"How do I put this – you did bring that for me, right?"

Starsky grinned, and put the top bun back on the burger. "Okay, here you are," he said, and he held it up so Hutch could take a bite.

"Oh, so much better," Hutch said through a mouthful.

"Look!" Starsky exclaimed, still holding the burger up, but looking out into the hallway. "There she is!" He turned so he could get a better view, and, probably not on purpose, smashed the burger into Hutch's face.