EPILOGUE

Starsky's POV

It's been almost a year now. Mom went home not long just before they finally let me out of the hospital.

They didn't want to release me at first; said that until I could use stairs I should live in a one-story house. But I wasn't going to give up my tree house that easily. In the end they gave in. I guess my temper was a match for all of them.

Hutch wheeled me out of the hospital and the nurses lined up for a goodbye kiss. Hey there were more of them there than I recognized. I was flattered but I also wondered if someone who shall remain nameless but has blond hair and a ridiculously straggly mustache wasn't trying to boost my morale a little.

God know it needed it.

Four months earlier I had been a fit and healthy man in his early thirties. I could run a mile without thinking about it and without blowing my trumpet too loud I could keep a lady happy long into the night. My body was good; lean and muscular with a nice covering of hair on my chest, arms and legs and I had a permanent healthy tan. I weighed in at just under one seventy.

The day I left the hospital I was haggard and pale. I was down to one thirty and looked like a ghost. I had ugly scars on my chest and back and one of my arms. And I was in a wheelchair because I still couldn't walk more than three steps at a time.

Four months earlier I had been a cheerful confident young man with everything to look forward to – including dating a pretty stewardess I'd met at Huggy's place a couple of days earlier. Sure I could be moody but I flared and calmed down again. Nothing depressed me for long.

The day I left the hospital I'd had a one hour crying jag because I didn't want Hutch to have to carry me up the stairs. I'd hauled myself out of bed despite the pain that ripped through me every time I tried to stand without support. I'd managed to grab the crutches and I'd set out for the hallway determined to get up a few steps of the stairway over by the elevators. I fell before I got to the bedroom door. Pain, frustration and humiliation got the better of me. I threw the crutches at the door and lay there screaming for help.

Hutch found me; he gathered me up in his arms and eased me back to the bed, "hey Starsk still trying to run before you can walk?"

He wheeled me out to the car; my car, shiny and red looking like nothing had ever happened to it. That set me off again. My car had recovered but would I ever be able to drive it again?

Hutch put his arm round me and pulled my head onto his shoulder. "Get it out of your system buddy. I promise the next time you ride in this car you'll be driving."

He kept his word. Whenever we had to go to my appointments at the rehab center and the follow up clinic, we went in his car.

Hutch was my guardian angel. I teased him about getting him a costume like the one I had to wear when we went undercover to investigate death threats against a wrestler.

He nursed me and fed me and massaged me and cleaned me up and did everything he could to give me hope.

Little by little I learned to walk again..

…again! I'd been there before after all; the long struggle with crutches and then a cane until the wonderful day when baby takes his first unsupported steps again. But the last time my body was twelve years younger and there had been no internal damage.

I didn't just work on my body…I guess you could say I worked on my mind too.

Yes, Hutch was my golden angel.

My dark angel was there too. Watching and waiting, his wings folded across his chest ready to stretch out and envelop me and take me away from all this pain and misery.

He stepped forward once. Three weeks after they let me go home my lung collapsed again. The doc said I'd been trying too hard too soon. I got emphysema and I lay there trying not to drown while the tubes drained the fluid off my lungs cavity. I saw him step forward and smile. He opened his wings and smiled at me, encouraging me to take refuge in his embrace. I thought of the pain that I had gone through and the pain to come. I smiled back.

"Hey Starsk if you get out of here in time I'll take you to the Dodgers' opening game."

My golden angel won.

I shook my head and the dark one smiled and stepped back into his corner.

He folded his wings again and settled to wait his turn.

Today is an important day.

Last week I had my final follow-up appointment at the clinic. The doc was pleased to see me walk in almost like before. I still have to take painkillers now and then and the anti- inflammatory pills and the anti-depressants are still in the cupboard in my bathroom. Oh and Hutch takes my temperature every day to make sure I don't have an infection starting up someplace. I could do it myself but I think he doesn't trust me.

I'm in the bathroom now. My dress uniform is hanging on the door.

I looked at my body in the mirror as I stepped out of the shower. Most of the external scars are fading now and I'm doing my best to deal with the emotional ones.

I can hear Hutch pacing around out there.

"Come on Starsky, we'll be late!"

Ha! He's the one who has always been pathologically incapable of turning up on time and he's moaning at me!

I glance at my wristwatch on the washstand.

Plenty of time.

Plenty of time to decide what I want to do.

I pick up the razor and flip open the blade.

I can see him behind me, reflected in the mirror.

He outstretches his arms and for the first time I hear his voice. It is a low and reassuring voice. He speaks slowly and clearly.

Can you handle a year of desk work before they review you again? I can take you where you will never feel pain or frustration.

He spreads his wings and steps up behind me.

I lift the blade to my chin.

"Starsky will you get a move on."

Hutch opens the bathroom door and stares at me. Our eyes lock in the mirror and I see the horror on his face as he realizes that there is no lather on my skin.

I put down the blade and pick up my shaving brush and start to cover my stubble with the shaving cream.

The dark angel steps back again and fold his wings across his chest.

"Ladies and Gentleman; Chief of Police Ryan will now officially designate the new officers in the Bay City Police.

One by one each man steps out of ranks to be given his new grade. Lieutenant Second Class, Sergeant Second Class, Sergeant First Class….

Lieutenant First Class, Kenneth Hutchinson."

I watch out of the corner of my eye as Hutch steps forward to have his new insignia pinned on his uniform. We took the exam together; no-one doubted that he would pass.

Ryan calls the others forward.

"Ladies and Gentleman I feel I have to say a word about the next officer. A year ago it was possible that he would be wearing his dress uniform for the last time with his fellow officers surrounding his coffin. However David Starsky is not a man to give up a fight. It is with great pleasure that I call him forward now to receive the insignia of …."

I saw Hutch smile proudly.

"Lieutenant Second Class."

I step forward. I'm exactly the age my dad was when he was killed; and I'm still here.

Hutch comes over to me and hugs me. Dobey grins. "You make a habit of getting double promotions don't you Starsky."

We all laughed.

"Hey," Huggy asked, "do we call you First Lieutenant or Lieutenant First Class?" He was referring to the fact that although I passed the exams I got an extra promotion for bravery….just like I did in the Army.

"Starsky will do just fine I said."

I heard a rush of air and it seemed as if a shadow passed over the corner of the Academy parade ground where we standing.

I looked up and saw my dark angel fly away.